#cw: brief mention of grooming

[osamucide]

nsfw alphabet - osamu dazai . . . .ᐟ

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 2.1k

cw: gn!reader - no explicit anatomy mentioned, switch leaning sub!dazai, nicknames “pretty,” “honey,” and “babe” for reader, one instance of “daddy,” brief mentions of choking/spitting/slapping/marking/collaring/edging/dacryphilia, graphic mentions of cum, cum eating, CUM, degenerate!dazai my beloved

reid: no one asked for this i just be thinking uwu enjoy

. . . .ᐟ

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

it’s dazai - he’s lazy and kind of a princess. unless cleaning up is absolutely necessary (read: you both and the sheets are drenched in sweat and/or cum) he will just want to stay where you are and cuddle and be loved on

usually chatty afterward. loves to chit chat. if you’re too sleepy to hold a conversation, he’ll play with your hair and you can listen to him talk about the fall of the byzantine empire

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

dazai is aware that he has attractive hands. there isn’t a single part of himself he’s not at least a little conscious of, but he knows his hands are both pretty and skilled, so he might as well try to be proud of them!

can’t pick a favorite body part on his partner. it changes by the day. one day it’s your waist, the next it’s your hair, wednesday it’s your thighs, most fridays he prefers your hands, sometimes it’s your stomach, other days it’s your ass. . .

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

i know it tastes like sulfuric acid

cums so much. like an obscene amount.

he definitely has a thing for seeing you covered in his cum - whether it’s on your chest, face, back. . .

filthy nasty when it comes to cleanup. you made a mess on his fingers? he made a mess in your hands? your hole is dripping with his cum and yours? his mouth is on it. shameless

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

less dirty and more just embarrassing for him - he usually cries after make-up sex.

if you argue and then fuck it out, tears will be rolling down his face while he cums - he loves you so much! he doesn’t want a petty argument to ever make you rethink your relationship with him

if you notice this, no you don’t. to him it’s a fucking secret okay

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

while i do think he probably hoed around toward the end of/after his mafia days, i don’t think he’s as experienced as anyone expects him to be.

liked the feeling but hated the vulnerability. it was a tradeoff he wasn’t willing to make anymore at some point. eventually realized he needs to build up a level of trust with potential sexual partners

once that trust is built up though. hooo boy

that genius brain of his isn’t just for detective work

he’s intuitive and a quick learner. absolutely knows what he’s doing.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

spoons.

lazy man loves to wrap one arm around your neck and play with you with his free hand while he thrusts into you from behind <3

really partial to any position that lets him bite your neck and kiss your face and groan in your ear (hopes you do the same to him)

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

can’t help the occasional one liner. he’s a natural comedian

dazai rather enjoys more playful sex where you both can laugh and talk throughout - sometimes it feels more intimate than serious, stone-faced sex

takes on a more serious air if he’s feeling jealous or insecure

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

will adhere pretty firmly to whatever your preference is!

if you have no preference, he just trims when he’s unruly - maybe once every two weeks or so

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

physically extremely sensual and aware of your body - little touches and breaths on your skin, lingering eyes, things that would get glossed over by anyone who isn’t a romantic at heart

tries (and succeeds) to swoon you verbally, too.

“need to feel you, please.”

“fuck- we fit s’ well together, don’t you think so?”

“‘m all yours, honey.”

“c’mon, pretty, fuck me like you own me.”

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

pillow humper.

he’s lazy! don’t get the idea that he’s above stroking himself because he’s not, but sometimes he just doesn’t feel like it

just imagine him in the first light of the morning waking up before his alarm with an unforgiving hard on. . .he was probably dreaming about you! and if you’re not there, what else is he supposed to do other than fold a pillow between his legs and grind on it until he cums in his boxers?

nnnnhhnmnmghshdhd pillow humper dazai <3

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

choke. this. man.

whether he’s topping bottoming subbing domming whatever he cums 10x harder when your hands are anywhere near his neck

likes fingers in his mouth uwu since he’s confident in his hands, he’s definitely into you sucking on his fingers too

pry his jaw open and spit on his tongue. he will gladly return the favor, if you wish

slap him if you’re comfortable. he’s down for it. he usually hates pain, but if it’s supplemental to pleasure?

big fan of biting and scratching too, both ways if you’ll indulge him.

likes having matching marks <3

leash and collar this man while he’s on his knees and tell him it’s where he belongs. he’ll agree!

edges the hell out of you when he doms. maybe likes to see you cry a little bit <3

on the softer side, he adores being praised - bonus points if you can mix in some subtle and tasteful degradation. loves being told how good he feels, how good he’s letting you use him, how good of a boy he is. . .

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

he prefers the privacy of your bedroom so he can completely let go of his reservations

buuuuuut also gets excited about car sex uwu something about how the windows fog up, and how desperate and feral it can feel. . .

at the end of the day, he’s never met a flat surface he couldn’t fuck on. if he wants you, he’ll find somewhere to have you

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

when you get intense about anything. discussing something you’re very passionate about? someone or something is visibly pissing you off? you’re road raging? dazai’s ready to drop ‘em

oh lord about to get the works cited page going. next bullet point references this post by user cqthqrtic (not tagging as to not surprise them with random nsfw content in their notifs, however if you see this, legend, and want tagged do let me know!), who pioneered my favorite degenerate!dazai and i think about him OFTEN

so with that, on a less wholesome note than the first one, i fully agree that calling him names like sicko, perv, freak, etc. gets him going like you would not fucking believe. he lives for your half-disgusted little reactions when he whispers filth in your ear in public or proposes some depraved shit like eating his own cum out of you. god forgive me

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

heavy, intense degradation. he’s already hyper-convinced that he’s a piece of shit. keep it to the classics; he likes being your dumb slut, your fucktoy, your brat, etc. and mix it up with praise. he does not like being called useless, bad, good for nothing else, etc.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

a real eater. a proud munch. so fucking smug about it too

his mouth + his hands? you’re seeing god

cannot however deny how much he loves your mouth on his cock. he’ll almost never ask for it, but he’ll also never say no to it.

might get carried away and fuck your throat a little - don’t worry, he’ll compensate you. ride his face til he can’t breathe

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

almost always wants to take his time with you! he’s got a lot of self control and he uses that to his advantage

he can’t get over how tender it feels to bury his face in your neck, wrap his arms around you, and feel your nails in his back while he’s fucking you deep and unhurriedly

he loves slow, sleepy, lazy sex where his hands can just roam every inch of your body.

don’t get it twisted - dazai will absolutely fuck you fast and rough if you just say the word

want him to go faster and harder? give his hair a good tug <3

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

not his favorite methodology, last letter considered.

won’t decline if it’s to get out of work <3 bring him lunch at the office and he might just bend you over the bathroom sink

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’ll try just about anything once.

this man spent his most formative years in a front row seat to observe humanity at its filthiest - anything that happens with mutual consent and good intent between you two in the bedroom can’t be that horrible.

besides, he loves discovering new kinks of his with you <3

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

only one or two rounds, maybe three on a good day, but he manages his time well.

spends anywhere from 15-30 minutes on foreplay on the first go around

will let you rest between rounds but continue kissing on you and teasing you lightly so it all just feels like one dreamy and continuous round

with his insane self control he could easily drag a couple rounds of sex out for hours. many hours.

however, he won’t usually keep you longer than three or so hours; on the flip side, he rarely spends less than 45 minutes on you.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

not opposed to you bringing toys to the table, but no, he doesn’t own any.

he can makeshift some handcuffs out of a belt so quick - what would he need to buy them for?

not a fan of having toys used on him, but he’ll go to town on you if you want <3

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh brother

will hold off on cumming himself just so he can draw your orgasm out longer. sensing a theme here? when i tell you his self control is insane.

beg him all you want - he goes into it knowing exactly how long he’s going to edge you for <3

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he can hold himself back and be quiet. . .does not like to, though!

high quality triple x this-shit-rated-porn ass moans, sighs, grunts, and whines coming out of him regardless of his position. he was meant to be LOUD. he likes to let you know how good you make him feel!

cusses so much.

whatever he’s babbling gets so breathy and growly when he’s close

“thank you thank you thank you fuck thank you” while he cums <3

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

wanna make him bust on the spot? call him daddy while he’s in you <3

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

average thickness but god he’s long

we’re talkin pushing eight inches

no curve, very few veins, blushy pink tip

sticks straight up and twitches when he’s hard <3

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

contrary to popular (?) belief, i think his sex drive is average if not a little lower

mostly just up for it whenever you are! you bring it up? sure, he’s game <3

about who initiates sex: 60/40, you/him respectively.

if he’s not in the mood will say some really lame and uncomfortably silly shit like “i think mr. pinky’s asleep right now babe” 👎

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

no he wants. to. CHAT

has enough trouble sleeping at night as it is! kind of just wants to go back to snuggling and hanging out when you’re done

again if it’s bedtime and you’re sleepy, he’ll just talk softly about whatever until he hears you snoring.

might pick up a book for an hour or so before joining you in the dream world <3

always smooches you goodnight whether you’re awake or not.

[mypearlsareclutched]

Loving You Is Hard

High By The Beach | Chapter One

Modern!Aemond x Original Female Character

To be loved, is to be known. Time passes so quickly when you are happy, and for the first time, Mila Stark seems to know true happiness. But when you fall in love with someone, and your walls come crashing down, your weak points are bared for all to see. Be careful who you trust your heart to...

Chapter one, babygirls. What seems like a blissful relationship in front of the cameras, is actually a leaning tower readying to fall. The heart is a fickle thing, once broken, can it be mended? This chapter is VERY Back to Black (Amy Winehouse) coded, I am warning you.

Song inspiration | High By The Beach, Lana Del Rey

CW//TW: Sexual Content (MDNI, 18+), SERIOUS drug use, alcohol consumption, Targaryen daddy issues, smoking, romantical shagging, brief allusions to grooming, mentions of parent death, ANGST, infidelity, overdosing and almost dying.

Word Count | 5.3k

previous chapter // next chapter

Isn't it crazy how a year can pass in the blink of an eye?

For Mila, It feels like only yesterday she met Aemond Targaryen, the straight-backed second son of a business mogul. Only yesterday when he gave her his lighter, then she fucked him in the bathroom, subsequently offering him her number with a smirk.

But a year has passed since that night. He called her the next morning, talking to her in his deep, soft-spoken way, inviting her somewhere nice. Their first date was perfect, they sat together and spoke easily, his attention never wavering from her. They walked hand in hand back to her flat. Then he broke her bed.

Many months had passed with this being a regular occurance. Once Otto Hightower found out that Aemond and Mila were seeing one another, he was eager for their relationship to be public. All of sudden, Mila traded her candid shots of her walking out of a club shitfaced and bleary eyed, for staged shots of her walking hand in hand with the second heir to the Targaryen fortune.

Cregan had been shocked. He was uncomfortable with such an imposing and threatening looking man dating his sister, coming from such a formidable family no less. Aemond listened to Cregan's thinly veiled complaints, merely shrugging off his concerns. Even a year after their first meeting, Cregan remained uncertain about Aemond and his intentions.

Their surrogate family was even less happy. Rhaenyra and Aemond are half-siblings, sharing a father in Viserys Targaryen. Eighteen years difference between them, sure, but the fact that Mina is dating one of the sons from the family that replaced Rhaenyra stung. But Rhaenyra's hostility was not aimed at Mila. She, Jace, Luke, Laenor, even Qarl were against the relationship. An intervention was held at one point, but the eery familiarity to that night in her past made Mila run, falling into the arms of Aemond as she panicked.

Aemond's family had welcomed her. The first time Mila walked into the Targaryen mansion as Aemond's girlfriend, she had been celebrated as if she were royalty. Alicent had hugged her upon arrival, and she seemed genuinely ecstatic to get to know her. Halaena introduced her to Dreamfyre, and all of her critters. Daeron, Aemond's younger brother, talked her head off and showed her his footy skills. He went feral when she did a rainbow flick in heels, courtesy of having Cregan Stark as her brother. She did not meet Viserys that day, he was too sick to welcome visitors. As Mila was welcomed into the family, Otto watched with a small smile, his eyes sharp like a snakes.

The night she met his family, he showed her his hidden eye. An accident in his youth left him scarred, his one eye lost and replaced by a sapphire. He leans into her touch as she kisses his scar, telling him he is beautiful.

A year of public appearances, a year of hostility between family members, a year of sharing meals and moments with the illustrious Targaryens. A year of falling in love with Aemond Targaryen.

How was she to know this was the calm before the storm?

She and Aemond lay in her bed, his head resting on her chest. A vicious family argument had sent him into her arms, wound tight and on the verge of breaking something. He had fucked her hard and rough, making her scream loud enough to wake her neighbors, her headboard creating an intent in her wall. After making her cum four times, he laid down beside her, his own pleasure forgotten as he accepted her loving embrace.

"What happened, baby?" Mila finally asks, running her fingers through his soft hair. He hesitates, before releasing a sigh.

"My father brought our family together to talk about his will." Aemond murmurs, staring at the wall, "He still wants Rhaenyra as his heir, despite her insistence that she has to focus on her own career. Father wants Rhaenyra. He won't allow her to give up her inheritance... because of Aegon."

Aegon. Aemond's older brother was a difficult topic of conversation for them. The first born son of Viserys Targaryen was currently in rehab, some fancy facility. Aemond never spoke about his brother in a good light, though Mila heard plenty of kinder words from Halaena and Daeron, sometimes Alicent if she had had a few glasses of wine.

Halaena had said he had a kind heart, Daeron had said that he was funny, Alicent had said that he was trying to be better. Otto refused to speak about him, Rhaenyra said he was troubled, Jace said he was a bully. Viserys' forgot his name once.

The closest Mila had gotten to interacting with him was when he escaped from rehab. Aemond had received a call in the middle of the night. He spoke in a hushed voice to Criston Cole, the Targaryen head of security, and then rushed off into the night. When he did not return, Mila went to the mansion, and found a clusterfuck of chaos. The entire security team was trying to get Aeon out from the pool, but he was as high as a kite and refusing. Mila had watched as Aemond dragged him out by his collar, throwing him in Cole's car to be sent back to the facility. As it drove past, a pair of big blue eyes looked out at her, and Mila felt the urge to wave at him. When she did, he waved back.

"He won't even consider you?" Mila asks Aemond, feeling him tense against her.

"No." He bites, voice hard, "Otto has tried to make him see reason; Rhaenyra has had no involvement in the company since she married and left to start her own business. All my life I have worked for this. And yet the old man is still blinded."

"I'm so sorry, my love." Mila murmurs, unsure of what to say, "I'm sure your father will see sense soon-"

"Enough. I don't want to talk about it." Aemond sits up, shoulders hunched. His hair surrounds him like a curtain, shielding his face from her, "You don't know what it's like to feel like you're not enough."

Mila shudders, closing her eyes. Memories fill her mind, taking her to a dark place.

While the media only knew about her recreational drug use and partying ways, they never knew about her vicious affair with the needle. Heroin had been her escape when her parents passed away, and it was all on her brothers shoulders to get her help. When he was at his breaking point, Rhaenyra and Laenor took her back in, letting her detox and keeping her warm, fed, safe and loved. Even when she screamed, thrashed, and spat cruel words, they never lost hope in her.

Her brother and her surrogate family never thought less of her, but she thought less of herself. When she remembers who she was, how deep she was in her addiction, she hates herself. More than she has ever hated anything.

"Mila?" A warm hand presses to her shoulder, and Mila snaps back to reality, Aemond watches her with a worried eye, his sapphire gleaming in the low light, "What happened? You look pale."

Aemond cups her face, stroking a thumb over her cheekbone. Smiling weakly, she rests her hand over his own, leaning in to his touch.

"I... I know what it feels like to feel like a disappointment, to feel like you aren't capable." She whispers, "You're amazing, Aemond. But it's never enough for your family. My family believes in me, but I don't know if I deserve it."

He listens as she breaks down, confessing her sins through tears, recounting her addiction, her grief, her self hatred. By the end of her rant, Aemond holds her close, lay side by side as he soothes her.

"None of that is your fault." He murmurs, kissing her knuckles, "Your family know you are worth more than you think, and I know that to."

"Aemond..." I love you, is what she wants to say, "Thank you."

"No. sweet girl, thank you." Aemond leans forwards, kissing along her cheeks, soothing the skin that was stained with tears. His hands covered her body, warmth spreading through her, soothing her tremors. Familiar need coursed through her, and she leaned into him, kissing him deeply.

"Need you." Mila murmurs against his lips, and he smiles softly.

"I've got you." Aemond promises.

He pushes her back, climbing on top of her. Mila spreads her legs willingly, and Aemond fits snugly against her. He presses hungry kissing along her neck as his cock presses into her, hot and hard. She gasps as she spreads her legs further apart, accommodating his lean body.

As Aemond fills her, Mila whines, pleading for more as he sets a slow, passionate pace. Their hips clap together, their staggered breaths mingling as they kiss messily. The room is hot, sweaty. Aemond's pace increases, desire for release coursing through him, his intensity leaving Mila a whimpering mess beneath him, looking up at him with adoring eyes until he could bare it no more, pressing his face into the crook of her neck.

"I've got you, I've got you..." Aemond breathes against her, lost in his own pleasure as he thrusts inside her, fucking her harder and deeper as they both tried to wash away their pain...

Today is Viserys Targaryen's sixtieth birthday. Probably the last one he will ever have, and thus, the celebrations are spectacular.

The once feared and revered CEO of Targaryen LTD walks out into the foyer of his pristine mansion with a cane, face half hidden with a masquerade mask as to not showcase his deformities. Otto was the one to suggest the theme, a masquerade party to add a touch of class. Definitely not to have an excuse to hide the rotting side of Viserys' face, taken by the inoperable tumour in his head.

As Viserys was cheered and greeted by his friends and colleagues, Mila stood by Aemond's side, a red mask across her eyes, matching the read, satin dress she wore. Aemond wore a green mask, covering his patched eye, and a deep green suit. His hand held her waist softly, keeping her close by as he watched his father with distaste.

"Do you want a drink, Aem?" Mila asks, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He does not answer, his eye trained on his father's hunched form, weaving his way through the crowd, "Aemond?"

"Yes?" He responds, looking down at her, his eye softening, "What did you say, love?"

"Do you want a drink?"

"No, thank you." Aemond presses a kiss to her forehead, and she beams up at him. The crowd around them mill about, the attention focused on Viserys and therefore letting the two of them idly talk and enjoy each other's company.

Mila raves on about a new song Rhaena was composing, eagerly spouting out facts and answering questions Aemond would occasionally ask. For the most part, he remained silent, content to listen to her and observe her with a soft look in his eyes.

A whirl of black hair catches the Targaryen's attention, and his eye flickers to look over Mila's shoulder. His face drops, eye widening as his grip on the Stark girl loosens, body going slack.

Mila stops talking, eyebrows furrowing as she takes in Aemond's harrowed look, "Baby, what's wrong?"

Aemond is unmoving, eye wide as he stares. Mila follows his line of sight, spotting a tall, slender woman watching the pair across the room. She is dressed in black, a veil over her mask. Her dark hair surrounds her like a blanket. Under the veil, Mila can clearly see a smirk. Ice grips her, as she huddles closer to her boyfriend.

A broad, bearded man walks over to Aemond, and he shakes out of his trance, offering the man his hand to shake, "Borros, thank you for coming."

"A wonderful event, Aemond." Borros nods, his eyes moving over to Mila, his eyebrow raising in judgment. Mila stiffens, feeling scrutinised and unsure.

Aemond clears his throat, extracting his arm from around her, "Mila, could you get me a drink, please?"

"...Sure." Mila says, clenching her jaw as she walks off. Behind her, she can hear Borros Baratheon mutter something about Aemond 'taming the She-Wolf', causing Aemond to chuckle softly and respond with quieter words. Suddenly, Mila feels sick.

Walking across the crowded hall, Mila finds herself at the bar, gripping onto the edge as she bites back tears threatening to spill.

"Woah, woah, that's expensive dark oak, kid." Daeron jokes as he joins her side, smile faltering as he sees her saddened eyes, "Hey, what's up?"

"Nothing, Dare. I'm fine, just, uh, I need a drink."

"Okay... do you want me to get Hel?" He asks, clearly deeply concerned.

Mila manages a weak smile, "I'll go and talk to her if things get worse, thanks, kid."

"No worries, kid." Daeron elbows her gently, giving her another worried look before he joins his father's side. Mila shakes her head, catching her bearings as she orders Aemond two fingers of whiskey.

Grasping the drink in shaky hands, she weaves her way back around the crowd, saying the occasional greeting to people she knew. Walking past an alcove, she spots Otto Hightower's fuming form.

"What the hell is she doing here?!" Otto demands, as poor Criston Cole stands in front of him. Criston defends himself, saying that he had no idea how she managed to get in, it must have been the mask. When they notice her watching, they stop talking, Cold offering her a courteous nod. She reciprocates, but feels unwelcome at this event, suddenly.

Borros Baratheon bellows out a laugh, talking to three women instead of Aemond. With a furrowed brow, Mila searches around, palm warming the glass of whiskey she held.

She stops in her tracks, going cold as she lays eyes on Aemond and the person he is speaking to. The veiled woman from before rests a slender hand on his arm. Aemond stares down at her, making no move to remove her hand. The woman takes a step further, close enough to kiss him if she leant a breath closer.

Swallowing thickly, Mila abandons the drink, turning on her heel in search of Halaena.

It is often easy to find Halaena Targaryen. Just go wherever there will be bugs.

In the Targaryen gardens, a silvery head looks down in the bushes, the sleeves of her blue gown bunched up as she searches amongst the flowers.

"What have you found, lovely?" Mila calls, her rage dissipating as she joins the side of her friend. Halaena beams, her curls surrounding her face as she victoriously gasps, pulling out her closed fist.

Opening her hand, Mila smiles at the sight of a bright green caterpillar. It slinks across Halaena's pale palm, sniffing her out.

"Look at him." Mila murmurs.

"Her." Halaena corrects, "She's a girl."

"And a very gorgeous one at that." Mila follows Halaena as she brings the caterpillar over to one of her glass enclosures, putting him in it gently.

"Tessarion will eat him, I know he likes to play in these bushes." Halaena was right, Daeron's tabby cat Tessarion would definitely have the caterpillar as a snack.

"You're very kind, Hel."

Halaena smiles again, closing the enclosure and walking over to the open doors of the hall. The pair observe the celebrations, standing in calm silence before Mila realises Helaena is staring at her instead.

"Everything okay?" She asks, taking in the Targaryens suddenly grim face.

Without a word, Halaena takes her hands in her own, blinking rapidly as she tries to make sense of her own thoughts. "Love will make you sick." Halaena murmurs, looking somberly into Mila's eyes, "And love will heal you again."

"What do you mean, bug?" Mila asks softly, the blonde's strange way of speaking no longer startled her, only made her grow even fonder.

"The Stranger will try to take you too soon. But you can't go yet, you haven't met him."

With that, Halaena sighs, bringing Mila's hands up to lay a small peck on her knuckles, then wandering back out into the crowd. Mila took great pride in the fact that Halaena would only touch people she truly trusted, but something about that interaction made Mila worried.

The crowd was alive as people grew drunker. Mila watched as Viserys was lead back upstairs, presumably tired out by the evening. Waltzing in and out of conversation, the She-Wolf tried to find Aemond, wanting nothing more than to curl up into his side.

However, it seemed like that would not be in the cards.

Aemond stands beside Alys, the pair talking with a small group of partygoers. A laugh erupts at something Alys says, and she leans against Aemond with a smile.

Seeing red, Mila makes her way over. Aemond stiffens as she approaches, and the group quietens down. Alys remains smirking, looking the younger woman up and down. The Targaryen at her side makes no effort to move.

"Where've you been?" Mila asks, uncaring of those watching.

"What do you mean?" Aemond raises an eyebrow.

"I've been looking for you."

Aemond shrugs, looking around the surrounding area like it was obvious. A few guests chuckle, causing Mila's cheeks to heat up.

"With her?" Mila bites, nodding to Alys.

"My name's Alys." The woman says, unhelpful in her lulling voice.

"I don't remember asking."

"I thought you would want a name."

"Perhaps he would." Mila glares at Aemond, who looks to the floor, jaw tense.

"We've known each other a while." Alys purses her lips, a mischievous glint in her eye, "We're well introduced."

The mocking nature of her tone and words makes Mila feel small, her humiliation increasing with the beady eyes of the surrounding guests.

"What is going on here?"

Like meerkats, the groups heads turn collectively as Alicent appears. With Criston Cole at her side, the Targaryen matriarch's face contorts into a confused frown as she looks at Mila's downturned eyes.

With a look to Aemond and Alys, she turns to Cole.

"Remove her."

Mila looks up, eyes wide as she looks at Alicent. But when she does, she finds the red-haired woman looking at Alys, a sneer on her lips. Criston offers Mila a nod, stepping towards Alys, who holds up a dismissive hand.

"No need. I was just leaving." She purrs, turning her head to Aemond. Leaning towards him, she whispers something, before turning and leaving.

Aemond watches her go, until she is swallowed up by the crowd. Mila cannot break her gaze from him, her heart ripping itself apart by the longing look in her eyes.

"See she is truly off the premises, Criston." Alicent says, and Cole follows Alys. As he disappears, Aemond looks at his mother, who gives him a stern, icy glare. A silent conversation is had, which no one dares interrupt. As Aemond finally breaks eye contact, Alicent nods.

Taking Mila's hand, the Targaryen matriarch walks away.

Mila storms into Aemond's apartment, shucking off her coat as she seethes. Aemond follows wordlessly, face stony as he watches her outburst. Pacing, Mila gnaws on her lip, breath coming out in quick pants as she tries to reign in her rage.

The car trip back had been awkward. Mila had been silent, her knuckles white as she gripped her steering wheel, and Aemond was motionless beside her. After Alicent had taken Mila away, the two women had sat together outside, not speaking, merely sitting alone, together. It was peaceful, and Mila so grateful for Alicent, but the second she saw her son again, she grew enraged.

The only thing Alicent said to her was: "I know what it feels like, to live in another woman's shadow."

"Why are you so upset?" Aemond breaks the silence.

Halting, Mila slowly turns to her boyfriend, the air in his apartment alight with tension, "Why am I so upset?"

"Yes, that is what I asked."

"I am upset because you spent half the evening playing cat and mouse with your senior citizen ex-girlfriend, and then you humiliated me in front of your family and friends! Your mother had to come and defend me, Aemond. She had to save me from your embarrassment!"

"Please." Aemond scoffs, tutting as he walks over to his bar, grabbing a bottle of scotch from the counter to pour himself a drink, "You embarrassed yourself."

"By doing what?" Mila questioned, voice rising with her growing rage, "By trying to remind you that I am your girlfriend, not her? By trying to divert your fucking attention for five minutes?"

"You have nothing to worry about." Aemond says, his back still turned, "I didn't realise your insecurity would breed jealousy."

"Excuse me?" Mila demands, her voice taking an icy tone. Sensing her growing anger, Aemond turns to look at her.

"You're behaving irrationally." The silver-hair man insists, eyeing her with his singular eye.

"Oh, am I?" She laughs bitterly, astounded by the audacity.

"This is no way for you to be acting." Aemond sighs, looking disappointed, "Have you drank too much?"

Tensions were rising. They didn't often fight like this, but Mila was embarrassed now, as well as angry, "What? You think you're better than me? Huh?"

"I have a reputation to uphold, Mila." Aemond bit, shaking his head dismissively.

"Right. My apologies, oh great Aemond, for being a dumb, ditsy, drunken slag who you are forced to stand around with at events!"

"I don't think that-"

"Don't you?" Mila snaps, fists clenching, "I see how you look at me sometimes, when you think I'm not looking. When we're alone, you act like I hung the stars, but whenever you have to be in public with me, you sneer like I'm an embarrassment!"

"You behave like an embarrassment! Drinking, talking too loud, biting at the bit for the opportunity to get high again. Gods, my family don't need to be around that after everything with Aegon!"

"Why are you bringing him up again?" Mila groans, rubbing her hands over her face, "He's in rehab. He's been gone for months. He's trying, but you still see him as this big ,grey cloud over the family!"

"It's my responsibility to take care of the family." He insists.

"Because you're the second eldest son?" Mila scoffs, and Aemond's face turns stormy, his eyes dangerous.

"Because I will be taking this company over when my father passes."

"You think?" Mila laughs cruelly, the buzz of alcohol making her next words fall out of her lips before she thinks, "Even with your brother gone, they're never going to let you take over the company! You're always going to be the second son-"

Aemond slams his glass on the counter, storming over to her to point in her face. "And you will always be stupid junkie whore!" He yells, "Immune to responsibility, unwilling to grow up and move on from her pathetic vices! At least I have something I am working towards, something I want. You spend your days aching for the needle to make you feel something other than the emptiness inside of you!"

His words send a wave of ice through her, her mouth snapping shut and her anger dissipating and turning into a sharp stab in her chest, grief and anguish and betrayal flowing through her. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. She turned her back on him, shaking.

Aemond regretted the words the second they came out.

He didn't mean them, not at all. Mila had told him about her past in confidence. The guilt at putting her through her addiction, the shame at feeling weak, the urge that still lingered in her soul... it was something she only told the people she trusted.

And Aemond knew it would hurt her.

His own shame filled him, and his stomach churned as he took a shuddering breath, running his hand through his hair.

"Baby... I'm so sorry. I- I didn't mean that." He whispers, swallowing as his mouth goes dry.

"Shut up." Mila sobbed, her hands shaking as she held them up to her mouth in an effort to stop herself screaming.

"Mila, please, I'm so sorry." Aemond pleaded, placing a hand on her arm, leaning into her to press his forehead to the crown of her head, "I swear, I don't think that. I have never thought that. My sweet girl, I am so sorry..."

Aemond clutched onto her, holding her close as she continued to cry, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. She turned and pushed him away, shuddering as if she were cold. Aemond felt sick, watching with his heart broken and tears filling his eye as she grabbed her coat and left, slamming the door in her wake.

In her haste to leave, all Mila had on her was her phone. Her purse was left at Aemond's, along with her house keys and her car key. Looking at her black Range Rover, she releases a sob, turning on her heel and stomping down the path, too eager to be away from Aemond to think things through.

She needs space, she needs air, she needs to think.

Aemond, the one man she allowed herself to trust, to fall in love with, hurt her worse than anyone ever has. The policewoman who told her that her parents were involved in a car wreck, the doctor who broke the news that they had both passed... they had destroyed her with their words. But they hadn't meant to.

Aemond Targaryen tried to hurt her.

Clearly, he succeeded. Now she wandered in the streets, too angry to go back and get her keys, too proud to call someone to come and get her, too lost to know what to do next.

Little did she know, Aemond was hurting as well.

He sat in his chair, head held in his hands as he cursed himself over and over again. Cursed himself for his cruel words, cursed himself for betraying Mila's trust, cursed himself for falling into Alys' clutches, cursed himself for being deformed, cursed himself for being a second son.

A tear fell down from his singular eye, another cruel reminder that everything he does will only be worth half. He couldn't even cry like a normal person.

A brisk knock on the door startles him, and he whipped his head up in a flurry of silver before rising and rushing to the door. Flinging it open, he expected to see Mila... but his shoulders slumped and his heart dropped when he met the ice toned eyes of his all too familiar visitor.

"Hello, my darling." Alys greets, smirking.

The Targaryen stands still, staring down at her with what he hopes is a venomous look. It does not deter her, however.

"Well? Are you going to let me in?" Alys asks, though she knows the answer.

Despite it all. He will let her in. He will kiss her, he will fuck her, he will hold her through the night, as he always has. As he probably always will. Not so long ago, he would have done this and felt nothing, as he always has.

But now, as he lies on rumpled sheets, bare skin covered in goosebumps and a layer of sweat, he feels guilt, and he feels shame, and he feels so, achingly alone. His heart is bleeding out inside him, the woman lying next to him, sated and asleep, is not the woman he loves.

He wants her. He wants Mila. And he's the reason why she's not here.

The devil works hard, but the paparazzi works harder.

Just an hour after Mila left, mindlessly walking around Flea Bottom as she caught her bearings, her phone buzzed. An unknown number sent her a message, and she foolishly opened it.

Trouble in paradise? -LS

Larys Strong. The Perez Hilton of Kings Landing. Mila rolled her eyes, about to turn her phone off and ignore his bait. But then she got another notification, a picture...

It was of Aemond's flat. The photo was pointed up, focusing on the living room window, the lights dimmed but two figures could be seen. Aemond was leant over a woman, her hair the colour of a midnight sky, and a tattoo of an owl was wrapped around her bare shoulder.

Alys. He was kissing down her neck, her hand had disappeared down his trousers.

No fucking way... Mila clutched her phone, her stomach turning and her heart racing. It's got to be an old photo- But in the photo, she could clearly see her own car parked right outside the complex, where she had left it this evening.

Gods, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much, clawing at her throat and pressing down on her lungs. It felt so similar to how she did when she was told her parents were never coming back. They were gone, so far out of reach. Like how Aemond was. How he probably had always been. A sickening feeling was in her heart. A need, a deep desire to feel something else.

Mila had no desire to be sober anymore.

The night air nipped at her skin through her coat, biting and clawing at her as tears fell down her cheeks. A man wolf-whistled at her, but a sharp look his way shut him up.

That's right, bitch. I'm the motherfucking She-Wolf.

But she never felt weaker as she found herself in front of a familiar alleyway. Walking down it, deeper and deeper into the belly of the beast, her body hummed with the anticipation of what was to come. She makes her way to a rusty, metal door practically hanging off its hinges, and kicks it hard enough it shakes and groans like thunder.

A burly man opens the door, sneering down at her with blackened teeth, "What do you want, little thing?"

"Tell the Lion the She-Wolf needs a hit."

With a sigh, he turns and shuffles away, leaving Mila to shiver in the doorway. He does not reappear. Instead, a lanky, blonde-haired man saunters forwards.

"Mila?" Jason Lannister narrows his eyes, looking at her through thin blonde lashes surrounded by red. A smile erupts on his face as she steps closer, "Mila fucking Stark. Can't believe you're here."

"Enough of that, Jason." Mila sighs, wrapping her arms around herself, "Do you still sell dope?"

Jason's smile widens, patting his pockets before he finds what he's looking for, pulling out a small plastic bag, the white powder shimmering in the moonlight, "Free, for my favourite girl."

Mila eyes the baggie, chewing on her lower lip as she hesitates. But after Jason shakes it slightly, throwing her a wink. She takes it, stuffing it into her jacket before nodding.

"Thanks."

"Anytime, sweetness." Jason leers, looking her up and down, "Am I going to get an unpleasant call from an angry Targaryen?"

"Unlikely."

With a look over her shoulder, Mila disappears down the alley, heading to her flat. When she gets there, her vision is tunnelled, her mind only focused on getting high. Working on automatic, she uses her spare key to get in, finding it hidden under a flower pot. She doesn't even remove her coat as she storms to the bathroom. Underneath a bathroom tile, she finds her old stash of medical needles, her spoon, her cotton and her dad's belt.

Everything happened in a blur. Bag opening, lighter flickering, the tight belt around her arm, the needle... then she was lay back across the ceramic, euphoria taking over as she stared blearily at the ceiling-

But something was wrong.

Her vision flew in and out, her body unfeeling and her mind elsewhere. A voice could be heard shouting, doors were slamming, a distant siren... someone was lifting her up, someone else was holding her hand, telling her that everything would be alright.

Why wouldn't everything be alright? Was her last thought, as she succumbed to the fog within her mind.

AN// Well that was hella morbid, my apologies. I decided to write angst and so I wrote ANGST. Trust, things will get better, babygirl Mila is just going through it. See you soon!

Lula x

[lavenderslabyrinth]

A Sacrificial Game 2

King!Dragon x Reader

Masterlist

p.t 1

pt. 3

Welcome to part two! I'm a very slow writer so you may notice that I posted these parts somewhat consecutively. That's bc I wrote part one last year;;; I know, I know, but I got a new keyboard and I'm obsessed with the way it feels so hopefully it will get me back into writing again! Does anyone even read these...? Gah whatever. Enjoy!

CW: ♢ Abduction ♢ Blood/Injury ♢ Mention of Forced Stripping (Brief, not done by love interest) ♢

The next time your eyes opened back up to the dreary world, a groan was involuntarily passing through your lips. Pain. Fuck. Every breath felt like you were splitting open, and as a result, moving was not a very appealing option. Your ribs, whether fractured or broken, you didn't know. But, oh, it was undeniable something was wrong.

The pain had you sweating despite the night's air being blisteringly cold-- colder than it should have been for this time of year, and the more you got your bearings, the more you were able to process what was around you.

A single, dingy lantern hung from the wooden ceiling above you. It swung wildly with every bump and jostle, the flame within it threatening to flicker out each time. The room you were in was moving, no, no room, you were in a carriage. You tried to push through the pain to get yourself up but found your movements restrained-- expensive looking silk ropes curling around your body and a simple white gown you hadn't been wearing before was now draped over your figure. Though pretty, and far more expensive than anything you'd ever owned before, it did little to ease the painful shivers that wracked through you.

You'd been washed, groomed, and redressed with care, but hot rage filled your chest nonetheless. You'd had little to nothing to your own name-- living still with your family and no claim to a spouse, child, or land.

They've stripped you of those things. Taken away your chance at a normal life, and now, too, they've taken your dignity.

A particularly rough bump in the road sent your body up and off the ground for just a moment before slamming you back into the rough wood of the floor. By the Damned... The pain left you winded as a stabbing sensation shot through your entire body.

"Are you alright?" A meek voice spoke up from above you. There, on one of the benches, a meek priest looked down at you with sad eyes full of pity. Was he also Chosen? Were you both about to meet your end? No... His hands were not bound behind his back as yours were-- instead, they freely laid folded in his lap.

Your gaze hardened and, seemingly unable to stand it, he looked away in shame. “Why are you doing this?” You asked coldly--you knew... but hope was still pushing back the dread that was steadily gathering in your gut. He didn’t answer at first, instead he simply shrunk into himself more, as if somehow he would be able to curl around himself and hide away from your accusatory eyes. “Where are we going?”

It took time for him to give you an answer. Time you, whether willingly or not, gave. The air thick with the silence between you two, only broken periodically by the groan of wheels or the creaking of the lantern above, but with your stubborn, uninterrupted glaring, he broke.

"The border that separates man from beast... you've been Chosen."

Bastards. Those bastards! What were the chances?! Did they even actually draw?!

It kind of dawned on you that... they may not have. You questioned authority often, butting heads against those who supported this horrific tradition-- many of the higher officials found your outspoken presence to be a nuisance, and with their own unmarried children to look out for..... Was it really that far of a stretch to say you'd been sacrificed in more ways than one?

"...Let me go." You demanded, and when you were met with resistance, your rage bubbled over. "Let me go this instant! Now!" Shouting hurt, but the fear and adrenaline eased your pain into fuel for your rage.

“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Harder than it has t- was he fucking kidding?

“You cruel bastard! Damn you and damn that Temple as well!”

As though the carriage had also had enough of your behavior, the jostling movement stopped. With an eerie croak, the doors swung open to reveal the drenched silhouette of gruff looking man in temple garb. If it would have been a stranger you saw, it would still have been equally terrifying, but perhaps it would have hurt a bit less.

You immediately recognized the man as Father Kyron, and a cold weight settled in your gut. The Father had watched you grow and mature since before you could walk-- often taking the time out of his day to play ball or sneak treats to the other children after services had ended. He'd always been such a warm pillar of the community, someone everyone could feel safe with. But those kind eyes that had always looked on at you before were now completely vacant of that gentle affection.

A monster was all that was left.

The rain pelted down on his leather-clad shoulders, cold droplets splattering onto you from the force of their impact. Whether or not he was a holy man of the temple, he looked nothing short of a demon in this moment.

Your screams went ignored as you fought not to be dragged out by your hair; body being dumped unceremoniously into the ground's painful embrace.

Kyron didn't spare you another glance as he once more took ahold of the reins. The priest did the same, shutting the wooden doors with a slam, snuffing out the little light the lantern within had to offer you.

The raging tides of emotions slowly simmered away as the carriage finally moved out of view, and now, instead of anger, hopelessness began to ease it's way into your veins. What could you do? You'd been abandoned. Left to lie in the dirt with only the echoing throbs in your side to keep you company.

Your screams turned to wails, then to sobs, and then to silence. And for a few moments you sat there, unable to process the shock of it all.

There's a funny thing about shock that no one tells you about. When there are plenty of important things for your mind to race through-- whether that be the betrayal of a beloved mentor figure, what would happen to your family, if your father was alright, who would tell Alikar... your mind often defaults to something insignificant; something harmless. And all you could think about were those damn peaches that had been laid together so carefully in your mother's wicker basket by Alikar's careful hand.

Had they all been trampled into the ground? Or would your family be able to salvage the last things you touched into something good and safe and warm for themselves...

Your eyes fixated on watching the way the rain thinned your blood and how it trailed down your skin to mix with the mud beneath you. The colors sickeningly seeped into the once pure white satin of your dress like the branching of a tree. The fabric feeling like it took root to your skin as it clung uncomfortably to your figure. It was a suffocating feeling and, surprisingly, was enough to bring a grimace to your face and give your mind enough clarity to realize footsteps were fast approaching where you sat.

"Here! Over here!"

"Damn it all, I knew I heard something!"

"Get the towels, the poor things soaked!"

Unknown voices made their approach accompanied by the warm, softened glow of lantern light. Though vaguely, you could make out the figures of a small group of armor-clad individuals.

Perhaps it was a bit of a cliche. The knights in shining armor coming to the maiden in distress-- but you could afford little to focus on the irony of it all. All you knew was that whomever held that lantern would be a fate far kinder than hungry animals or a slow fall to the elements.

Saved.

You were saved.

"H-Help me" Was all you could muster, the relief allowing exhaustion and weakness to finally take root in your body. Lead weights settling in your limbs and a quiver in your voice.

The closer they came, the clearer you could see them. They were guards, no doubt patrolmen assigned to protect the border, but very obviously not those of the human kingdom.

Otherfolk

Primarily shifters from what you could tell because, despite their mostly human appearances, their natural, beastly features still shown through. Large rabbit ears, a long flowing tail, wings stuck to their backs, or faces that just weren't quite arranged in the typical human fashion.

To some it would have an been off putting sight, but frankly after all the interaction you'd had with humans for the day... an inhuman face was a welcome sight.

"We've got ya, we're here to help, don't be scared." The rabbit shifter cooed, her gentle paw-like hands cupping your face sweetly as the bat's nimble fingers worked away at your bindings.

Her palms were soft and warm, the sleeves of her tunic smelling like the herbs and incense your mother often used at home. Your eyes closed as you couldn't help but lean into her comforting touch. For a moment, just a moment, the thumb swiping away your tears was not that of a stranger, but your mother. And for a moment... just a moment. You weren't shivering in the cold rain of an unknown land, but instead simply sat at the kitchen table at home waiting for peach pie on your birthday...

---

---

---

Ah. Was this death? If it was... it was peaceful. Never before had the space around you felt so soft and warm, and, faintly, there was the gentle scent of citrus in the air.... but was death supposed to be this painful?

Inhaling deeply, you winced, eyes cracking open as you moved blearily to try and sit up only to experience probably one of the most excruciating pains you'd ever felt.

"Easy! Oh, easy, my lady!" A familiar voice fretted, those same gentle hands from before supporting your weight with surprising strength against your shoulders. Carefully, she eased you back in place. "Lie down, the doctor gave strict orders for you to rest as much as possible until the healer can arrive. They aren't broken, but whomever you put up a fight against did one hell of a job on your ribs."

Your gaze fixated on the rabbit as she began to visually check you over once more with her large, rounded black eyes. She wasn't very tall, a bit below average at most, and held a very lithe figure. But despite that, she was donned with heavy, metal plated armor kept a sword neatly sheathed at her hip.

"Who.. are you?" You cringed as your voice was much rougher than expected, but who could blame you? After a night of screaming into the cold like your life depended on it, because it most certainly had, anyone's voice would have been a bit spent.

Without missing a beat, the rabbit shifter handed you a warm glass of water, which you greedily gulped down as she spoke.

"My name is Eve. I am a member of the king's guard here at the palace. I've been assigned as your personal guard, my lady." She bowed at the waist with a practiced precision, her fluffy ears tilting back so as to not land in your lap. "May I know the name of the lady I serve?"

"Hey, pause. Palace?" You full-stopped your assault on the glass of water and took your first good look at your surroundings. Sure enough, it was far from your typical healers hut or hostel.

The sheer size of the bed alone was the first thing you noticed. It was definitely made for something, or rather someone, that was far larger than you as the length of it easily extended another three or four feet past where your own legs ended. The tall, expertly carved banisters loomed over your head, supporting a canopy of heavy silks that seemed to trickle to the floor like water.

And the room

What a room it was. It was as massive as the bed with pristine, marble cut floors and high arching windows. Beautifully intricate moldings were placed all around, masterfully crafted to perfectly mirror one another. It was a chamber fit for a lady, no, a princess-- both of which you were not.

"I... don't think I'm supposed to be here." You murmured, eyes still trailing over the details of the walls that practically dripped with luxury.

Eve's ears tilted back once more, this time nervously as her tiny mouth curved into a frown. "Is the room not to your liking, my lady? I can ask to have you moved to something bigger--"

"No! Goodness no! This is more than enough! Too much, actually." You stumbled over yourself in your haste to not be fussed over to such a grand extent, which made Eve's expression falter from one of concern to confusion. "I'm not a noble," you clarified. "My name is (y/n), just (y/n)." Back home, impersonating a noble was enough to lose a limb if you were lucky-- your head if you weren't. Hopefully, if you cleared up the confusion quick enough, whoever misunderstood and brought you here would be more lenient with their anger.

"How could I dare call the future queen by her name?"

"......Pardon?" Surely you hadn't heard that right. "The what?" Was it.. the shock? Yes, the shock. It must have not worn off yet, that was all.

"The future Queen. I'm afraid it isn't my place to elaborate any further, lady (y/n), but I assure you once his Highness' meeting finishes up he will be here to speak with you himself."

So it wasn't the shock... and the king of beasts himself would be coming here, to you, like.. this?

You didn't need a mirror to know you were ill prepared to be meeting royalty. Your hair and skin still felt dirty and strange from your previous night's rather rough introduction to the ground, and your clothes... well, perhaps more accurately described as the lack thereof...

You felt your cheeks heat in a bit of embarrassment as you gently lifted the warm blankets to peer below. You still wore the underwear you'd had on before, identifiable by the stains of blood and dirt which had settled permanently in the crevices of the fabric, but what covered the rest of your torso and legs were bandages and dressings. Your cuts and bruises had been treated, rather professionally at that if the skill and quality of the supplies had anything to say about it.

But still, it was far from a dignified look.

As if reading your mind, your rabbit knight chimed in once more. "Don't worry, my lady, his Highness is an understanding and gentle ruler. He won't judge you for something like being wounded."

While it was sweet Eve was attempting to comfort you, you were less worried about appearing weak and more focused on the fact you were damn near naked-- though that was probably an idea that mattered a lot less to someone completely covered in fur... You didn't have the heart to tell her that though. Not when she was so eager to please and had that hopeful look in her eyes.

Not that you would have had the chance to anyway as, without so much as a knock, the two heavy doors to the room swung open.

Your hands moved in a flurry to gather the thick comforter up over your chest, your startled eyes locking with another's, and for a moment, the both of you paused.

He was tall, taller than any man you'd ever known, with shoulders just as broad that laid draped in a dark-stained cloak. It was still wet with rain and what you could guess was blood based off the thicker, red pigment that dripped from the bottom hem. Heavy, leathery wings sat poised behind him like two elegant, massive shields as his spear-like tail swung languidly between them. It was evident why everything here was the size it was now. He was massive. He was imposing. And he was horrifically attractive in a way no boy from your village could ever hope to compare.

He didn't need the crown or fine clothing to be identified. You could feel the authority he held in the air the moment he entered the room, and immediately upon seeing him, you understood the stories of your kingdom's best soldiers turning tail the second his taloned foot stepped onto the battle field.

Dipping your head as best you could, you quickly averted your flustered gaze and blushing face. "I greet the King of Beasts."

You'd expected a plethora of reactions. A gentle acceptance of your greeting, a roar of anger as to why someone as lowly as you laid within his palace, or even silence as he ignored you completely

What you hadn't expected was laughter. It was a deep rumble that could have shaken the cores of mountains if he'd leaned close enough.

"Is that what they call me nowadays? 'King of Beasts?' Of all things... you humans and your silly imaginations never fail to entertain."

You only felt your cheeks darken in humiliation as you lifted your head to stare at him with complete bafflement. Was that the wrong thing to say? Instead of answering your wordless query, he instead pulled up one of the oversized chairs to your beside.

"Eve," he called to your rabbit companion with a far calmer and level tone. "You're dismissed." Your guard, whom you'd momentarily forgotten in the chaos of it all, quickly scampered out and very suddenly it was just you and him left alone in the room together.

"Forgive my intrusion, this won't take long." His tone didn't flow like an apology, but more like an order or expectation that you would forgive him. It left a sour taste in your mouth and evidently an equally sour look on your face.

His eyes narrowed.

"Unless there's something you'd care to object?"

For a moment, a primal instinct surged in your gut beneath his gaze: Fear. He was the descendant of a long lived, powerful bloodline known for having the power to snuff out thousands of lives like yours. You were comparable to a meager speck of dust in his eyes, surely-- but an emotion that overtook your momentary fear was... anger.

No, it was rage. To be ripped from your home, stripped of your dignity-- your identity, thrown to the wolves, all to be mocked and disrespected and then be told to forgive them? Forgive him?

How far must you bow your head in order to save it? How much more humiliation did you have to endure for the sake some man deeming you worthy of survival?

Men in power had stripped enough away from you today, you'd be damned if you allowed this one to make you watch the last shred of self respect you had trickle through your fingers.

"I do actually. Quite a few actually."

The beast's narrowed eyes didn't ease, but he made no move to stop you.

"Well? Go on."

You took a breath, steeling the nerves that were pleading with you not to go through with what you were about to do. It was far too late to back down now. Instead, you hold his gaze.

"You laughed at my greeting, yet failed to introduce yourself. You came in without so much of a knock, not having a shred of thought towards my decency. You sent away the only person I knew, leaving yourself, a man, alone in a room with me, a woman, which shows you also have no concern for my dignity. Not to mention you're absolutely filthy covered in... who knows what. And to top it all off you don't ask me for forgive you but tell me to." You begin to falter, slowing your ramble as his slitted pupils begin to round out. "I think you're rude, and inconsiderate and..."

"And?" He urged, leaning forward a bit which only had you pressing further back into the plush pillows that had propped you up.

"And scary."

"Scary?"

At that, the towering dragon leaned back, the sturdy wood of the chair beneath him creaking with the shift in weight. "You look me in the eye, tell me what I can and can't do within my own home, in my own country, tell me all your objections about me... all while you think I'm scary?"

Unsure where this is going, you nod a bit lamely. What else could you have said?

"I see. Well. I suppose, in my haste, I have treated you a bit roughly for a lady."

"You...have." You affirmed hesitantly, your death grip on the blankets over your collarbones easing slightly.

"Then, for that, I extend you my sincerest apologies and ask that you find it in that fiery little heart to forgive me." You weren't sure if his tone was playful, mocking, or both... but it was a start.

"I'll think about forgiving you then."

"Then I'll put forth the effort to earn it. But for now, let's start from the beginning. I am King Jarkah Drak'in, ruler of the Etherian Empire. And you are?"

You had pondered giving him a false name before, but at this point there seemed little reason to it. "(Y/n). My name is (y/n)."

"(Y/n)." He repeated back to you, the gentle rumble in his voice almost bringing back that warmth to your cheeks. "I rarely hear human names so sweet on the tongue."

You tried and failed to formulate a reply to the compliment, your thoughts stuttering over themselves.

Seemingly able to see your internal struggle, Jarkah stood back up, signaling the end to your little exchange.

"As much as I'd prefer to talk further, I realize I should take your fragile circumstances into consideration, I'll postpone our conversation until I hear word that you've recovered." Was he... still mocking you? Or was that genuine consideration? It was difficult to read his reptilian features, and even more so when his back was turned to you. "Goodnight, (y/n)."

You floundered for a response but all you managed was a meager "Goodnight" as the door clicked shut softly behind him.

[tornoleander]

Jay’s been through it

CW: Sexual assault Implications brief discussion of sexual predators + lotta swearing

(Please let me know if I missed any content warnings and Check if you are ok to hear this theory before reading. This type content has potential to help or hurt you depending on who you are as is the nature of problematic themes. Safety over curiosity.)

This is cannon compliment. Uhh kids show?! Yeah I know shouldn’t really have these themes but they’re there hear me out. Spoilers for season 6/8 I guess.

I’m bothered by this scene and how It connect to certain events so I’ll cautiously share

Sons of Garmadon Episode 7:

Here is the clip

Kelo asks “Where’s the green Ninja”

WHAT THE FUCK! Dude the double take I had when first watching this.

So he looked at Kelo’s… lower half and basically said ‘Cole shut up that man’s crotch is too close’. And not in Jay joking tone, he’s like dead serious and stressed. (The scene just cuts away after)

Jay you ok? Why is it implied some guy might have tried something?! Why else would he say that?! Who the FUCK touched my boi? What even is this scene?!

The fact it’s Jay that said it out of everyone is bad because it’s been implied to him before.

So let’s talk about the darkest Ninjago theory that’s been quietly circulating for a while in fan content. For simplicity I’ll call it captains quarters theory, If you’re unfamiliar I’ll explain.

Basically some speculation happened because of a certain villain that displayed subtle ongoing predatory behavior. And a part when Jay was his prisoner that caused people to worry what happened before the scene started.

As some of you have caught on It’s the scene where Cole rescues Jay from Misfortunes Keep.

He didn’t find Jay in his cell where he should have.

Cole found him beaten as ninjago has ever depicted except when literally dying.

Alone

no explanation given.

In the corner of Captains Quarters.

Nadakhan’s room.

Dude :(

And his concern afterwards.

And thinking he didn’t deserve saving.

“Thank you for trying to save me,-

It’s Just a lot.

Doing awful things to make Jay wish it all away is terrifyingly in Nadakhan’s character. Not just the sadistic torture part.

Nadakhan has many behaviors similar to a sexual predator. I’ll go over it briefly but see my last post for a detailed analysis.

He Seeks out vulnerable people for victims. The Ninja are teens and he waits till or makes them emotionally vulnerable. The way he talks about gifting his wishes and giving his victims anything they desire can be read as grooming behavior. His secrecy in getting all the ninja alone and doesn’t even talk to his crew about his plans. Manipulative and Controlling obviously.

And the most glaring issues he’s WAY tooo fucking touchy all the time. Like watch his body language during Skybound and see how uncomfortable it is

“Too slow junkyard boy”

Not to mention how explicitly he doesn’t care about consent….

And “If you don’t come willingly Nya, I will take you regardless” followed by a forced marriage.

Side note he doesn’t refers to Jay with his name and the things he calls him…uggh “What lies is our little canary whistling now, hmm?”

So… It’s cannon compliant that something was attempted or happened to Jay. Bruh wtf.

Well if you feel like you resonate with this or it may help there a few great fanworks that explore this I can recommend if interested. Mmm comfort angst.

(Note don’t bother anyone for enjoying Nadakhan as a character. It’s fiction and it hurts no one)

[magpod-confessions]

cw// mentions of abuse, addiction, and brief mention of suicidal ideation

the way the magnus archives explores themes of abuse and manipulation is one of its strongest apsects especially in regards to elias and jon

i feel like the fandom doesn’t really take the abuse/grooming aspect seriously when it comes to jon, which is a shame because i think its executed really well…one of the reasons i love jon so much as a character is because a lot about his story can be so real and applicable to real life situations ! i think he’s a good portrayal of how addiction can destroy someone’s relationships and how being an addict and a victim of abuse can affect someone because of the guilt, shame, and suicidality that comes with it

i also like how the show emphasizes how jon IS smart and emotionally intelligent and is capable of recognizing manipulation when its happening to other people, but still ends up falling victim to it in numerous ways without knowing because it can really happen to anyone

(i also think jon and elias’ dynamic could resemble parental abuse specifically but thats a whole other conversation)

these aspects of his character i think are done really well and i wish it was more analyzed in the fandom

.

[elliewithcellie]

Long Cool Woman - Chapter 3

chapter summary: It's Day One of pageant practice, and someone has their eye on you.

wc: 4.2k

cw: awkward reader lmao, two brief implications of sex life, mention of a condom ha, i think that's it. Dean plays older brother, Jealous Sam? who knows

a/n: Find the rest of the story here

As the car rolled to a stop, you realized you had dozed off. It had been a long day. You all grabbed shopping bags and staggered through the hotel and into your room. The boys looked as exhausted as you felt, and it was only 9:30. You looked at the two beds with the desire to have one to yourself. You looked at the boys, sure they were thinking the same thing.

You sighed. You claimed a bed while the boys battled it out with rock-paper-scissors. Dean won, a smile joining his features. Sam’s eyes widened, the color draining from his face. They argued silently in front of you, their unspoken words still an enigma to you, a foreign language that held context clues at bay.

Sam’s face grew rosy as he walked toward your bed, his feet dragging in defeat. The closer he got, the more doubtful you were about the situation. Your mind told you that you were an adult and that you could handle sharing a bed with a man, but your body could not be convinced.

“You know what?” you said scrambling out of bed. “It’s ok, Sam. You can have it.”

You grabbed a pillow and pulled the comforter off the bed.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“I’m gonna sleep in the bathtub. You both have a long day, so I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding,” Sam said.

“It’s ok, really. I’d fit in here better than you guys would.” You forced a laugh. “Goodnight.”

You dragged the blanket into the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

“Sweet. Win-win,” you heard Dean say, his voice muffled by the door.

As far as bathtubs go, this was the nicest tub you’d seen. You laid the comforter down to form a padding, pleased with your quick thinking. But you felt stupid. The urge to fix it and act like an adult grew larger, the embarrassment rattling in your head like a pinball machine. But that ship had sailed. You had sealed your fate. You tossed and turned in the tub until your mind settled into sleep.

A muffled alarm through the bathroom door woke you from your pained slumber. As nice and spacious as the bathtub was, it was still a bathtub: cold and solid. No matter how padded, the comforter’s efforts remained in vain. You stretched your aching back, not quite finding the relief you sought.

You stepped out of the tub, careful not to slip. The mirror served as an unpleasant reminder of your lack of sleep. Dark bags hung under your eyes, and your hair shot in every direction. Your shorts had twisted halfway around your waist, and only one sock remained on your feet. You tried to groom yourself slightly before opening the door, hoping to signal an invitation to the others.

You had just finished brushing your teeth when Sam entered the bathroom. Juxtaposing his large frame, he shrank himself down, almost a mixture of shyness and guilt as he approached you.

You decided to beat him to the punch. “I’m sorry for ditching last night. We’re adults. It shouldn’t have been a big deal.”

“No, no,” Sam said, his eyes wide, frantic to reassure you. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I should be apologizing to you. I’m sorry we made you sleep in here.”

“You didn’t. It was my choice.”

“You wouldn’t have made the choice if we didn’t push you to. We should have gotten another room for you. We weren’t thinking,” he said, his posture straightening with his assertion.

He towered over you, closing some distance, but his demeanor remained soft and sincere. Heat radiated off of him, his warmth a welcome change from the cool porcelain of last night. Still, chills ran down your spine.

“I—I’m not here to make anyone uncomfortable. I’ve just –”

“You’re not.”

“—never done that kind of thing, but we’re all adults here. I can pull it together and act like one.”

“Done what?” Dean asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Been in bed with a guy,” you said, your quick confession taking you by surprise. You covered your eyes with your hand, a meager attempt at hiding your embarrassment.

Dean’s eyebrows raised in surprise as he squeezed between you and Sam to find his toothbrush. “Bobby didn’t let you out much, huh?”

“Dean,” Sam warned.

“Nothing in high school, though? Never ditched class for a boy?”

“What? No, not at all,” you said. “Some small little innocent crushes and school dances, but nothing serious. What are we talking about right now?”

“This is on us, ok?” Sam said, pulling your attention as he gathered your pillow and comforter from the tub. “We should have gotten you a separate room. I’ll go see if they have any others.”

“No, it’s fine. Really,” you said. “I’m fine with it if you guys are fine with it. I just can’t sleep in that bathtub again.”

“Deal,” Sam said, returning your things to the bed. “Taking the comforter, though, now that’s unforgivable.” A smirk rose on his face, watching for your reaction.

You chuckled and smiled back, and he resumed making the bed.

“Ok, out, Dean,” you shooed him. “I gotta get ready.”

“Wait, just two minutes.”

“Fine, but I really have to get going. Shoot. Is there a dress code for this? Sam, Where’s the itinerary?” You left the bathroom and rummaged through your duffle bag, the door closing swiftly behind you.

“Here,” Sam said holding the paper up. “It says, ‘Welcome to Day One. Meet the rest of the contestants for breakfast before we begin our first rehearsal. Come as you wish to present yourself (The judges do not score until Day Three).’ So, it sounds like you can wear whatever you want.”

“Thank god,” you exhaled.

Dean exited the bathroom, and you entered, closing the door behind you.

As you showered, your body teetered on the line of anxiety. You were an imposter. You knew that the other girls would practically smell it on you. Your looks and lack of experience could be enough to be caught in this lie. You wanted to back out altogether. But lives were at stake here. You had to remember that. Miss Vermont was found dead. You could not afford any more casualties. You exited the bathroom, Sam taking your place. You returned to your bag and practiced what you learned yesterday, in hopes of elevating your look just enough to blend in with the contestants.

Sam returned to the room as you finished up. “You gotta get going. Here, we’ll walk you out.”

You nodded and slipped on your shoes. The closer to the lobby the three of you got, the quicker your heart started racing.

“You’re going to be fine,” Sam said. “Just remember to keep your eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Try to get people talking and keep your phone handy just in case.”

“And use this when you have any free time,” Dean said as he handed you his EMF detector. “Any information is helpful.”

You all entered the lobby littered with beautiful women. Chatter and laughter bounced off the walls, all but singeing your skin in overwhelm.

“I’ll see you guys soon, right?” you asked.

“Like we never even left. Now, go make some friends. Ooh, especially with her,” Dean said pointing over at one of the contestants.

“Shut up,” you said. Still, you laughed.

“Hey,” Sam said, his eyes serious and concerned. “Be safe, ok?”

You nodded. “You, too.”

Without another word, the boys left the hotel and left you to truly fend for yourself.

******

Clink, clink, clink.

“Alright, ladies. Please take your seats in the chair with your state labeled accordingly.” You looked up to find an older woman on the stage, holding a glass in one hand and a fork in the other. She sounded too chipper for the time of morning, and her smile seemed sewn to her face by three cups of coffee. She struck you as presidential: matching tweed blazer and pencil skirt with a shirt the same shade and pointed shoes two sizes too small.

You found your seat and slumped down, hoping to avoid unwanted attention. Pastries lined the center of the table. You scanned the others. No one attempted to take one, so you didn’t either. You tried to focus on the speaker, but your stomach rumbled silently.

“Now that we are all settled, welcome and congratulations for making it to the Miss America pageant. I’m Nancy Roshambo, the event coordinator for the next three days. These are my fellow producers, Tod Larkins and James Mathesby.” Nancy gestured to her right revealing a frail, older man and a younger, fit, attractive man. You sucked in a breath at the sight of James. It may have been your first time meeting someone who took your breath away. Embarrassment struck you, desperate to avert your eyes from him.

Nancy continued. “While the stage crew sets up the stage for rehearsal this afternoon, we decided you all should get to know each other!” Small cheers from the crowd of women erupted in the room. They all seemed so excited as they turned to their peers and giggled. You only settled into your nerves, taking a deep breath through the commotion. The girls collected themselves as soon as Nancy resumed speaking.

“We have generated a few games for you ladies to play for the next few hours, so by the time we are ready to rehearse, you all will be each other’s best friends!”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You were sure these girls were lovely, but Nancy was coming on a little strong. Still, the overall consensus remained positive. Nancy announced the first game, and everyone shuffled around accordingly. Through the transition, you grabbed one of the frosted donuts that sat perfectly at the center of the table. The rest of the table settled in around you. As you ate, you felt their eyes searing into your skin.

“That’s impressive,” one of the girls said.

“Am I not allowed to eat right now?” you asked, putting your donut back on the table.

“No, go on ahead,” she said. “It’s just so courageous for you to eat sweets just days before that show. I’m Tanya by the way.”

You cursed to yourself. By simply eating, these girls were on to you. You introduced yourself sheepishly.

To your surprise, Tanya shrugged and grabbed a donut of her own. Another girl couldn’t remove the disdain from her expression.

“What, Kari? I’ve been inspired,” Tanya said.

“Could someone tell me what we’re supposed to be doing?” you asked.

“We are supposed to be playing Two Truths and a Lie,” Miss California said, irritation evident in her tone.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we got to know each other by, like, asking regular questions?” you asked.

“Yeah, these games are stupid!” Tanya said. “We don’t even know each other well enough to make a guess. You guys play your game. Me and Y/N, here, are going to actually get to know each other.”

The rest of the girls at the table commenced their game as Tanya shifted her chair toward you. “Alright. Are you going to share first, or should I?”

Because of your unique situation, you let her do the talking. The conversation went smoothly for hours. It was exciting to get to know someone your age so easily. The boys, as kind and hospitable as they grew to be, were reserved. There wasn’t much information to gather unless you dug for it, a risk you weren’t quite willing to endure yet. But Tanya was an open book. She discussed the experiences she had growing up in Georgia. But it wasn’t until she mentioned she was engaged that you found yourself holding onto every word she had to offer. You longed for the experience of a partner, even though you knew you could never have one. The normalcy of her life left you evaluating your own, how strange it became, and how much you’ve missed out on. Still, a girl could dream.

“Alright. Enough about me. What about you?”

Before you could begin, Nancy tapped her glass with her fork, a hush falling on the crowd.

“Alright, ladies. We’re going to take a little break while the crew finishes their last-minute details. Feel free to use the restroom to freshen up!”

“You’re off the hook this time, but you will tell me more about you later.” Tanya winked, and in a mad dash, headed for the restroom.

This was your opportunity to investigate, you quickly realized. You pulled out the EMF detector and scanned the perimeter of the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You rounded a corner where a window was left slightly ajar. On the windowsill sat a small pile of yellow dirt or maybe sawdust. Before you could examine it, you felt someone approach you from behind.

“What are you doing?”

You turned around and found James Mathesby towering over you, his arms folded at his chest. You scrambled for something, anything that could cover your tracks. But experiencing him up close had you short-circuiting.

“I—I, uh, it’s stuffy in here, isn’t it? Can’t hardly breathe in here.” You fanned yourself as your temperature rose. In truth, you couldn’t breathe, but it wasn’t the air causing you to swoon.

“Oh shit. I mean, shit. Let me take you outside.” His hand found residence on your lower back as he ushered you through the lobby doors. His hand left a fire in its wake as the heat traveled through you. To say you were touch-starved would be a gross understatement. You let out a deep exhale in hopes of pulling yourself together.

“Is that better?” he asked.

“Yeah, it is. Thank you,” you said, allowing the breeze to ground yourself. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

He smiled and extended his hand. “I’m James.”

You shook his hand. Even the simple exchange of hands was enough to send you over the edge. The butterflies in your stomach twisted into knots. You were careful not to shake it for too long.

“So, what is it you do, here?”

“I’m in charge of run time. We have a tight schedule, and Nancy tends to go overboard with everything, so I keep her in check. I am also in charge of the videography of the event, telling which camera to cut to and when to pan to a wide angle or a close-up shot.”

“Oh, so you’re basically the director,” you said.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” James said, a slight rouge warming his cheeks.

You didn’t want the conversation to end. His big mysterious eyes pulled you into every word he said. You found yourself staring. You didn’t mean to. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen a built body before, but his called to you, begging you to come closer. There was something about him you couldn’t resist, and you wanted to find out more.

“Ah, shit, er, crap. Sorry, I’m trying to be better about that.” James sighed. “We’re past time already. I better go. It was a pleasure meeting you. Get some water, and hopefully, I’ll catch you later.”

James left you alone. You heard the mutterings of Nancy over the microphone, but you found yourself too flustered amongst your own thoughts to comprehend her words. His fingertips had branded your back, the memory all too much to handle. You had never felt this way before. You were sure it was chemistry. You were determined to see where this feeling would take you.

 As you entered the lobby, the other contestants shuffled through double doors into another room. You stepped in line with the others and followed them into the ballroom. The production level completed in the hours you’d been present astounded you. Within the room stood a two-level stage with a spiral staircase on either side. American flags and giant glimmering stars hung on the back of the stage and from the ceiling. A sea of folding chairs sat evenly distributed across the floor. The sudden image of possibly thousands of people sitting in those chairs made you nauseous. You pushed it to the back of your mind as Nancy explained the situation.

“Now for the moment we’ve all been waiting for: the pageant routine!” Nancy directed the women to their various positions. It seemed easy enough. Step and pause and step and pause. Still, the walk took six attempts before no mistakes were made. As you approached your final position, you found James off-stage. You made eye contact for only a split second before returning your focus to the stage. You felt flustered, then embarrassed over the effect that he was having on you. You had to keep it together.

“Ok, ladies! Let’s move on to the next section of the show!” Nancy announced. More walking, this time from a different approach for section two of the event. Nancy continued to add to the routine, and you continued to sneak peeks at James. You couldn’t sway your delusion; almost sure he watched you more than the other women.

After six hours of standing, walking, looking at James, and listening to Nancy say “Alright, ladies” for the millionth time, you were finally off the hook for the day. As all the contestants shuffled out of the ballroom, Tanya found her way to you.

“Hey! Day One is over, and it’s only 5:30.”

“Thank god, right?” you said, relaxing your posture for the first time today.

“So, if I were you, I’d go walk on over to James and see what he’s up to tonight.”

“What? How did you—”

She laughed. “I saw you guys talking when I came back from the bathroom. I noticed how you were checking him out. And he was totally staring at you throughout the whole rehearsal.” She nudged your arm with her elbow.

“Shut up. Don’t mess with me right now.”

“I’m not!” Tanya said. “You need to go for it.”

You sighed. “Oh, I don’t know. I mean my—my family might be doing something tonight.”

“Please, you’ve worked so hard to get here! Go have some fun! When was the last time you did anything for yourself?”

She raised a good point. He was too intoxicating to pass up. And what harm could another conversation cause?

“Fine,” you said. “Next time I see him, I’ll talk to him. What are you up to tonight?”

“Oh, a couple of the girls are getting drinks, so I better get going! I’ll see you tomorrow. You have to tell me everything.” She gave you a quick hug before running off.

Your fear kept you rooted to the floor beneath you. You sighed. There was no way you were going to go through with it. The boys would freak out, and this wasn’t a vacation. You were working. You turned around to head to your room in defeat. Your spin on the hardwood floor broke your balance, and you slipped backward. Yet, you never hit the ground, two arms catching your fall.

“You know, when I said, ‘catch you later,’ this isn’t what I meant.” James chuckled as he lifted you back to your feet.

You were mortified. You so suddenly ran hot across every inch of you. His hands never left your body, keeping you close.

“This is the second time, now, that you’ve helped me. I’m so embarrassed,” you said candidly.

“Don’t be,” he said, still holding you close.

You felt your pulse rise with each of his breaths. His eyes bore into yours, and even if the moment only lasted for two whole seconds, the weight of it lasted a lifetime.

“Forgive me if this is too forward,” James continued, “but what are you doing tonight?”

You, you thought uncharacteristically. Your mind was melting before your eyes. The desperation to come up with something quick swelled beneath your skin. “Umm, not much. It should be a relaxing night.”

“What if you joined me for dinner? I’ll buy. I’d hate myself if I didn’t try to ask you out.”

You were careful not to shudder in his grasp. Nothing could have prepared you for this moment. You did everything you could to conjure a nod. “What time were you thinking?”

“Meet me in the lobby at seven?” he asked.

“I—I can do that.”

James smiled. “Then I’ll see you at seven.”

The two of you parted ways, your head dizzy with excitement. Your emotions stirred in your head as you headed to your room. Before you opened the door, you took a deep inhale. You pled that the boys were still out investigating. Writing a note would be easier than facing them, you decided. You exhaled as you unlocked the door.

To your disappointment, the boys sat on their respective beds, Sam with his laptop and Dean sharpening his knife.

“Oh hey,” Sam said smiling up at you. “How’d it go?”

A pang of guilt struck just beneath your lungs, though you didn’t know what you could feel guilty for.

“Oh, you know, it was good, a lot of standing and stepping.” You released a breath, nervous to break the news. “And I made a friend or two.”

“Oh, sweet,” Sam said. “We knew you’d have no trouble with this.”

“Yeah, it was good. How’s the research going?”

“Coming up dry,” Dean said. “Nothing’s out of the norm here. No angry dead Miss America contestants or anything like that.”

“You didn’t get any readings, did you?” Sam asked.

“No. I tested the lobby and ballroom. Nothing. So, what are we thinking, now?”

Dean stood up. “Well, I say we take a break. How about we get some food before we return to square one?”

“Mmm, about that,” you said. “You guys go without me. I sorta made plans.”

“Plans?” both boys said.

You winced at their surprise. “It’s no big deal. One of the friends I made asked me to go out, so I said yes.”

You sucked in your lip as the boys exchanged a look of disbelief. “It’s not a big deal,” you said again, not quite sure if you were reassuring them or yourself.

“So,” Dean said finally, “what are you and this ‘friend’ gonna be up to?”

“Just a dinner. It doesn’t have to be long. I meet him at 7, so—”

“Him? So, it’s a date. Sam, it’s a date.”

“I heard,” Sam said, his voice dry.

“Guys,” you said, exasperated. “Fine. Maybe it’s a date.”

“I’m not sure I like this,” Dean said. “You don’t know this guy.”

“I thought that’s what the dinner was for.”

Dean looked to Sam, who had turned away as if to hide the thoughts running through his head. Dean huffed. “Listen. I want you back by ten. No later. I want a text every time you stop at a different location.”

You nodded.

“Now, are you… prepared?”

“Well, I’d like to take a few minutes to get ready. I mean—”

“No, no.” Dean sighed again. His cheeks turned a tinge of red before rummaging through his duffle bag.

“Dean, what are you—”

He pulled out a small square wrapper from his bag.

“You can’t be serious.” Sam forced a dry laugh from his throat.

“Can’t ever be too careful,” Dean said trying to hand the condom to you.

“Woah!” You backed up completely flustered. “That’s—it’s not like that! I mean, I don’t think—”

“It’s always good to keep it in your back pocket. Sometimes the heat of the moment sneaks up on you.”

You were speechless, your jaw on the floor and your cheeks set ablaze. You dared to look at Sam in hopes that he would defend you. His eyes burned a hole in his computer, his whole face flushed, his eyebrows furrowed.

You snatched the wrapper from Dean’s hand and shoved it in your pocket. “Anything else you need from me? Need me to give you the play-by-play when I come back?”

“No!” Both boys yelled. You jumped at the urgency.

“No,” Dean said calmer. “But I do want to walk you out, so we know who to kill if he fucks up.”

“You’re joking. No. No way.”

“I’ll come with you,” Sam said, standing at full height.

Two against one. Before today, you would have folded in embarrassment, opting to stay inside for good. But the boys didn’t understand that this would be your first night of freedom in years. Your first night of freedom in your whole adult life. You weren’t going to allow this opportunity to pass you up.

“Fine,” you said finally.

You took the time to refresh yourself, the ticking clock a rude instigator of anticipation. It was finally time to go, and as you left the room, the boys followed close behind.

James had beat you down to the lobby. He stood at the sight of you, a smile wide on his face, only for it to taper as he took in the Winchesters behind you.

“Hey,” you said. “I’m ready to go if you are.” You grabbed his arm to pull him toward the exit.

“Who are they?” James asked.

You rolled your eyes. “My guard dogs apparently. Let’s get out of here.”

“After you.” He opened the lobby door for you, and the two of you headed to his car before the boys could say a word.

chapter 4

[lucagray813]

Shadow - Chapter 7

Title: Moving Together

Rating: M (M rated section is marked with the line break --M-- and can be skipped)

Word Count: ~10,000

Characters: Wukong, Macaque

Minor Characters: MK, DBK, PIF, Bǎi Hé, Red Son, Mei

Relationships: Macaque/Wukong

Minor Relationships: DBK/PIF

Summary: Macaque fears not being enough, Wukong fears being selfish. But between addressing those fears, they find time to dance.

Additional Tags: Developing Relationship, Acquired Disability, Slice of Life, DBK is called Niú, PIF is called Gōngzhǔ

CW: brief mentions of alcohol, struggling with an acquired disability, abandonment issues, social anxiety, sex talk, impotence

Link to AO3 Version

Chapter Navigation: First | Prev | Next

----

It was the next day when Wukong discovered the leftover bottle of wine in the fridge and holding it up to the light revealed roughly enough left for about two glasses. Well, waste not, want not. A glass of wine with dinner sounded fine by him.

He held it up as he called over to Macaque, "You want a glass of wine to go with dinner?"

He patiently waited for a response as Macaque nodded along to the gossiping monkeys perched on the arm of the couch beside him. Macaque only gave him half his attention for a split second to say no before turning back to them, apparently quite invested in the most recent troupe drama.

Wukong just shrugged and poured himself a glass before putting the bottle away. He supposed one glass of wine was sort of wasted on Macaque - he couldn't taste it and he was unlikely to even feel the effects of the alcohol with that amount.

When he finally made his way over to join Macaque, the gossiping seemed to have given away to idle one sided chatter as one monkey curled up on his lap while the other sat on the backrest to groom Macaque's fur. It was amusing to see Macaque play keep away after he was handed his bowl but eventually he had shooed them both away so he could eat in peace.

Macaque shook his head, "We've got to start locking up anything with a screen - if it can play a soap opera they'll find a way to watch it and it's warping their little brains. Did you hear what they were saying?"

He ate absentmindedly, bizarrely invested in the story Macaque was re-telling. He interjected every once in a while to question what on earth they were watching that they knew what half of this even was but for as ludicrous as the plot was it was so strangely engaging. No wonder Macaque hadn't been able to pull himself away.

By the time the story was finished he felt like he'd marathoned a full telenovela season, he was almost speechless, "Wow."

Macaque was equally incredulous about the whole thing, "Right?"

"Honestly, I'm sort of torn on whether I don't want them watching any more TV or not. That was something else."

"No, c'mon, you know what they're like. This only escalates until someone gets hurt. I wouldn't be surprised if they're already pretending to get into car accidents."

He had a point and between them they agreed not to leave anything lying around a monkey could get more drama material from. It was at about this point he finished his wine and he silently cursed himself for not just bringing the rest of the bottle over to finish. He held up his glass, "Hey, would you mind-? Ah, thanks."

He held the glass steady as the shadows poured the remainder of the wine before disappearing the empty bottle. He took a sip before commenting, "Sorry, you missed out the other day by the way. Next time I'll be the designated driver."

Macaque snorted, "That'll be a first but don't worry about it. I think it's best I do it, I'm not sure I should be drinking anyway."

"How come?"

Macaque looked a little uncomfortable as he tried to explain, "Being totally honest, I was always planning to be pretty sober but I wasn't planning to be that sober. Something was just really not starting to feel right after that second drink."

He frowned, "What do you mean? This a shadow thing?"

Macaque nodded, "I think it might be. I remember what it used to be like to get tipsy and it definitely didn't feel like that. And I'm really not keen to figure out what it would be like if I was actually drunk."

"Can you describe it?"

"Not really? I just... I didn't feel right. A touch too shadow. Like I was in the Void."

He didn't like the sound of that, "Alright, no alcohol it is then! We don't need to drink to have fun with friends."

Macaque looked at him strangely, "We? What are you talking about? You can still drink."

"Nah, it's no fun being the only sober person at a party. I'll keep you company!"

Macaque's tail gave an irritated flick, but his voice remained level, "I had plenty of fun the other day. Just because I can't do something doesn't mean you need to miss out."

He waved his hand dismissively, "It's no skin off my nose. I'll have a great time either way. Maybe even better sober since I'll be able to remember it all."

Something about this really seemed to displease Macaque, "If you don't want to drink then fine but if you're doing it because you think I need or want you to then you need to get a grip."

Ok, he'd clearly touched some sort of nerve but he wasn't quite sure where this was coming from, "What's the problem here? I just thought it would be nice, a bit of solidarity, y'know?"

A little too sharply, Macaque responded, "It's not nice, it's idiotic. Don't just give things up for me when you don't need to."

"You're making this out to be much a much bigger deal than it is - not drinking is really not a hardship. But if it makes you feel better, fine, I'll drink next time too. Happy?"

He snapped, "Ecstatic."

"Ok, seriously, what's this actually about?"

"Nothing."

"It's clearly not nothing. Wh-! Hey, where are you going?"

Macaque stopped on his way to the door to bite out, "For a walk."

Wukong let him go but as soon as he was out of sight he made an aggrieved noise and glared at his glass of wine, "This is all your fault."

It obviously wasn't but it made him feel slightly better to say it. As annoyed as he was by Macaque's oh-so mature handling of the situation, he realised it'd been awhile since they'd had something that remotely bordered on a proper argument. But he was cautiously optimistic Macaque would return with a cooler head and a willingness to talk about it. He might even get an apology.

Sure enough about thirty minutes later Macaque returned and sat heavily on his side of the couch before offering a gruff sorry. Wukong just watched him warily as he asked, "You ready to tell me what that was about?"

He exercised patience as Macaque sighed before glaring at his own hands. Eventually he said, "It's just one more thing I can't do. One more normal thing that I used to be able to do and now I can't."

He waited with bated breath for him to continue. This had to be the first time that Macaque had ever really acknowledged that he was at all upset about the situation he was in. Frustrations had made themselves known occasionally but it was usually aimed at a specific difficulty in the present rather than a comparison to the past.

"And it's stupid. So what if I can't drink? It's not like I was a big drinker before, not like I need it to have a good time. But it's just... It's just such a normal thing people can just do and I can't." He took a breath to steady himself before addressing Wukong, "But you can and I don't want this to be another thing that you have to do for me."

He frowned, "Another thing? You make it sound as if it's difficult having you around. And that couldn't be further from the truth."

Clearly getting a little worked up, Macaque exclaimed, "We can never just do things, Wukong. There's always something. Oh, you want to go for a walk? Oh,wait, sorry it's mid day - the sun's too bright for me to be out in it. You want to go see this show? Sorry but if I don't go to the Void now I'm going to stop being able to see in colour."

He kept going before Wukong could respond, "And if it's not something like that, it's that you've found something you want to do but you pass it up because I won't be able to experience it properly. Art? Food? Wasted on me, right? And it's not like I could ever just want to do something with you for you. No, it's always about me and what I can't do."

This had to have been brewing for quite a while and he cursed himself for not somehow realising. "Hold on, let's slow down a minute - there's a lot to unpack there. First of all, I want to make it one hundred percent clear that I'd be missing out on way more without you than I ever could with you. I was literally doing nothing until you came back into my life."

And while that confession made him want to cringe it wasn't much of an exaggeration. Especially not when you compared it to now, there had been days before Macaque's return when all he had looked forward to was going to bed at night - sleep the only place he could escape the reality of his eternity.

As ever, Macaque was not easily convinced, "So you needed a good kick in the tail to get moving but now you've got a taste for life again why would you be satisfied with less? How long until you get bored of someone that can't keep up?"

Incredulous he responded, "Bored? Of you? You can't be serious? You really think that's possible?"

Macaque held himself tightly as he looked away, "You did before."

His breath caught and for a moment all he could do was stare as remorse consumed him. Macaque looked so small all of a sudden, so vulnerable, and almost unthinkingly reached a hand out, "Macaque..."

He dropped it when the other only seemed to turn himself further away. He hesitated before trying to find the words, "I... That's... That's not what happened. I was never bored of you. I just..."

He looked down as he tried to explain, "I was thoughtless. Selfish. I never stopped to think about how what I was doing affected you. I never stopped to think about anything. I just kept moving forward, doing whatever I pleased. And I..." He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he admitted, "I liked that no-one was beside me. That no-one could keep up with me. But I still expected to be able to look back and see you waiting for me."

He couldn't bring himself to look up to see Macaque's reaction as he continued, "There was no future I envisioned that didn't have you in it but it wasn't like this. We weren't... We weren't equals. I was always the king. Your king."

He swallowed, "Macaque, I'm not proud of who I used to be, I'm especially not proud of how I used to treat you. But I promise I'm not that person anymore. Please, you have to believe me when I say there's nothing I want more now than to stand by your side as equals - no titles, no rank... Just us, however that looks."

When they had first reconciled, Macaque's feelings about being left behind had been made abundantly clear but Wukong hadn't realised that he'd feared that time would repeat itself and it would happen again. It hurt but how could he blame him?

The last few years together had been amazing but compared to their long lives it was like a blink of an eye. They'd lived together for centuries before he had set his sights on ever greater heights.

He felt Macaque's tail tentatively wrap around his and it was almost enough to reduce him to tears. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve this second chance. And yet he couldn't stop himself from intertwining his tail with Macaque's.

Macaque almost sounded slightly wistful as he said, "Deep down, I always knew that you never felt the same way about me as I did about you. You used to look at me like I was yours and I let myself believe I was something special. That it wasn't just the same look you gave everything you felt belonged to you."

He forced himself to look over at Macaque, to see a small sad smile on his face, "I would have my doubts but then you would give me a moment where all your attention was on me and it would be enough that I could keep fooling myself into thinking that I mattered to you. That once your newest ambition was achieved then you'd be by my side for good."

He fought back the knee jerk reaction to tell him that he had mattered to him, he had always mattered, and waited for Macaque to continue.

"That didn't mean I was content just to wait. But there was nothing I could do that kept you with me for long enough and then your adventures took you places I couldn't go..." He sighed and looked over at him, "I know that you're not the same person. Neither am I. But there's a part of me that just refuses to believe it. And it tells me if I wasn't enough then how could I possibly be enough now?"

Wukong turned to face him and took hold of one of his hands in both of his, "Macaque, there is no part of me that thinks you are any less than you were before. You're different there's no denying that but that hasn't stopped you living life to the fullest. If anything I think you're doing a better job of that now than ever."

He squeezed his hand for a moment before continuing, "I can't imagine how frustrating it must be sometimes to not have the same capabilities as before but it's not a burden to me to help you or work around that. You don't need to "keep up", I want to meet you where you are."

Macaque's eyes looked a little wet as he responded, "Don't feed me lines, Wukong."

"I'm not. I promise. I know I've got a long way to go to prove that. But Macaque, I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it - I love being with you exactly as you are now."

He didn't know what to make of the emotion he could see in Macaque's eyes but when Macaque brought up his free hand to gently guide his forehead to rest against his he was powerless but to close his own eyes and go with the motion.

Macaque pulled back to place a light kiss on his forehead before pulling back properly and scoffing a little wetly, "Yeah, I guess you're alright too."

He huffed a laugh, unable to stop himself from feeling fond as he dragged Macaque over to his side to hold him closely, "Why are you like this?"

Macaque rested his head on his shoulder as he responded, "I can only handle so much soppiness at once."

He hummed, "Well, that's unfortunate because I've still got at least one more soppy thing to say."

"Just one? I should count myself lucky. You're becoming real soft in your old age, y'know?"

He squeezed him in retaliation before letting a more serious mood settle again, "You never talk about how you feel about what you can't do anymore..."

Macaque sighed, "You worry about what I can't do too much as is."

He frowned, "That's not a good reason not to talk to me about it. I want to know if you're upset. And I worry about it way less than I used to. I get you've got new ways of experiencing things."

Macaque said nothing for a moment before a little defeatedly saying, "You still work on those artefacts."

He was a little taken aback, "Hardly! You weren't subtle, I know you're not interested in them. I just like messing around with the seals. Did you seriously think I was still trying to work on it behind your back?"

"Well, you were!"

"No, I-! Ok, y'know what? I was working on them when you weren't around but only because that's the only time I could mess about with them without you trying to distract me, not because I didn't want you to know about it. And can I just say, at no point did you actually use your words and tell me you wanted me to stop. Which, y'know, would have been the best way to get me to actually stop."

He couldn't help but feel a little exasperated. Had he been stressing out about this and was just not going to talk to him about it?

Macaque seemed to curl into himself slightly, probably embarrassed at being called out for causing unnecessary stress for himself. They had gotten a lot better at talking to each other but given the conversation they'd just had he thought he could understand why this might have been something Macaque had been reluctant to talk about. For that reason he decided not to labour the point about communication.

Macaque sounded a little embarrassed as he tried to explain, "Look, I... It wasn't just that I thought you were going to ditch me, or whatever, if I didn't work right. I..." He brought a hand to his face and groaned, "I want to do things for you. I wanted to be able to give you what you wanted. You wanted me to be able to feel things properly and I couldn't bring myself not to try. But then I really started to get the hang of feeling with magic and I thought that it might be enough to make up for what I was lacking and I just... I dunno. What I can't do doesn't bother me so much when I'm just thinking about myself but when I think about how it affects you and us - I get a little messed up over it."

He frowned and jostled Macaque slightly, "You need to tell me when things are messing you up, especially things that involve me and us. I can't do anything if I don't know. I had no idea you'd been stressing out so much about what I thought or what you "bring to the table", or whatever."

"I'm not stressing out about it. I just... I just want this to work."

"And you think I don't? C'mon we've been over this - we work way better when we talk to each other. I want to know if I'm doing something that's seriously upsetting you and I want to know what's going on in your head. I'm not a mind-reader you know."

He felt Macaque sag against him, "I know. It's just one of those things where logic and feelings refuse to see eye to eye. Logically, I know everything is fine but every once in a while my brain decides it doesn't give a damn about what's logical."

He huffed, "Yeah, trust me, I know the feeling. Just... Talk to me, alright?"

Macaque just nodded, "I'll try."

He kissed the side of Macaque's head, "That's all I can ask for. Also, just for absolute clarity - do you want me to stop messing around with those artefacts? Even if I'm not actually trying to workshop them into an accessibility aid for you?"

"Nah, it's fine. What have you been using them for then?"

"Oh, well one of the pairs of glasses has this really obscure character in the middle of the seal and it's honestly been driving me crazy figuring out what it does. Like, it's personal now. I need to know."

A shadow-y pencil materialized in the air in front of him, "Draw it for me?"

He knew the damned thing forwards and backwards at this point and he let himself fall into seals researcher mode as he caught Macaque up to speed.

----

He looked up from setting up the tablet to play music as per Macaque's request to question him, "Remind me why we're doing this again? Doesn't this sort of defeat the whole point of going to dance lessons?"

Macaque continued to stretch as he responded, "You really want to show up and have Niú and Gōngzhǔ tear you to shreds for not knowing how to dance?"

"Surely they don't know how to dance either? That's the whole point of this practice session, isn't it?"

Macaque shook his head, "Nah, they've been going to classes together for a few months. I join them every once in a while - it's good fun. This session they've got planned is to make sure everyone else attending the ball doesn't embarrass them."

Well, that explained how Macaque apparently knew western ballroom dancing. He asked, "Why are they having a ball again?"

"Long story short, they're trying to get in the good books of some neighbouring demon lord who apparently goes nuts for this kind of thing."

Wukong, thankfully, wasn't actually invited to the ball itself, he'd only been invited to come to the dance practice session. And while puzzled by this, he wasn't necessarily against it - MK would be there and Macaque seemed pretty convinced it could be a lot of fun.

"Ok, that all checks out but why am I going to the practice session?"

Macaque rolled his eyes, "Because Niú and Gōngzhǔ invited you and you don't have a good enough reason not to go."

"No, see this is the tripping point - Gōngzhǔ wants me to be there? Really? Are you sure I'm not being set up?"

Actually, if he was, it wouldn't surprise him if Macaque was in on it.

"If you were, why would I be offering to dance with you now?"

"To lure me into a false sense of security?"

Apparently done with this conversation Macaque just dragged him towards the space they had cleared for this exercise and positioned them so Wukong was in the lead position. That didn't surprise him at all - the follow position was often the exciting one and Macaque loved to have all eyes on him.

He felt the need to point out, "Also, you know I could pick this up in, like, two minutes. There isn't actually any need to practice beforehand."

"Wukong, shut up and dance with me."

He grinned, "Ah, so that's what this is about, huh?"

As it would transpire, Macaque wanting to dance with him had in fact been a tactical move on his part. This wasn't about romance or being close or anything remotely sweet, this was about getting the need to make everything a competition out of their system before they had to behave in front of a crowd.

At least half of their attempts to dance had ended in, what he personally thought, were much more exciting fight sequences - they even managed to time it to the music for the most part! And at least another quarter of the dances had felt more like a battle of wits as they tried to psych each other out.

They were sweating by the time they finally called it quits and he had to admit he wouldn't mind doing this again sometime. Just the two of them that was. If they had to dance properly the whole time he wouldn't have been able to stand it and as such he couldn't say he was super excited about this upcoming practice session.

But it was only for a couple of hours and MK would be there so he'd live. He also had his suspicions that perhaps this invite had actually been Macaque's doing and that he just really wanted him to come with.

He said as much, "You know you could have just asked me yourself if you wanted me to be your dance partner at this thing."

Macaque laughed, "I know you don't believe me but this genuinely wasn't my idea. Niú and Gōngzhǔ invited you, I swear. Although if I had to guess I'm going to say Niú was the instigator - I think he really wants to build upon the success of our get together a few weeks back."

He was perhaps a little too pleased by this revelation, as he preened, "Really?"

Macaque laughed at him, "Yeah, really. He had a good time and, though she won't admit it, so did Gōngzhǔ. I think he likes the idea of having some friends without any politics attached."

He felt embarrassingly giddy - his party had been an indisputable success and Niú wanted to be friends? Wow, this day had already been going well but he felt like he was practically glowing now.

Macaque just shook his head fondly.

----

The day of the event saw him in a large hall filled with close to a hundred people and he wasn't at all stressed out about it. Nope. Not even when people he didn't know gawked or pointed in his direction. He was totally cool and collected.

He sort of wished he hadn't let Macaque convince him not to wear his official Monkey King get up though. Obviously people recognised him without it and if he was going to have to be the Monkey King, then he wanted to be the Monkey King.

Safe behind his armour.

He tried to focus on the people right in front of him, the people he knew, MK and his friends, but he'd feel a lot better if Macaque would hurry up and get back here.

They had developed a system a while back for social events to help him with his anxiety. Invisible to everyone, that didn't have golden vision or something similar, was a thin layer of Macaque's magic over his hand - all he had to do was flex it a particular way or make a certain gesture and Macaque would respond accordingly.

He'd come stand by his side, or help him escape from a conversation or from the whole event if he really needed it. For the most part however it just gave him a little more confidence by letting him feel as if he was holding his hand, Macaque had gotten pretty good at manipulating the pressure so it really felt like he was holding on to him.

Wukong closed his hand slightly and he felt Macaque squeeze it lightly in reassurance. He'd be back soon, he just had to go get Bǎi Hé and then he'd be back. Just focus on MK and what he was saying - something about their outfits for the ball?

Thankfully, it only took another few minutes before a shadow portal opened beside Mei and Macaque and Bǎi Hé stepped out. He hoped his relief wasn't obvious but just being able to see Macaque did so much for his nerves.

Macaque had warned him he wasn't going to be able to be by his side throughout the entire event. He wasn't the only one who might occasionally look to Macaque for a bit of reassurance after all. Bǎi Hé had come on leaps and bounds since her time as the Lady Bone Demon's host but this sort of thing could be a bit much for anyone.

It probably didn't help that Wukong was here. She no longer seemed to be outright terrified of him but she always seemed at least a little uncomfortable around him. Which is no doubt why Macaque had opened the portal a decent distance away from him with a number of people in between.

She was greeted with enthusiasm by MK and the others and he didn't doubt they would all be keeping an eye out for her while she was here. She was the youngest person here by a good ten years at least. Macaque gave her shoulder a squeeze and then left her talking to Red Son and Mei to head over to him.

He resisted the urge to reach for him and instead lowered his voice so that only Macaque would hear him, "Everything alright?"

He nodded, and equally quietly explained, "Some last minute nerves was all. You holding up ok?"

He'd barely gotten out a "Yeah. I'm-" before Gōngzhǔ's authoritative voice was carried throughout the hall with a gust of wind as she started to explain the proceedings for the day. While Macaque had turned in order to appear to be paying her attention, he still kept an eye on him waiting for a response. Wukong tried to communicate silently that he was fine and after half a second of scrutiny he felt Macaque's magic squeeze his hand before they both gave Gōngzhǔ their full attention.

Wukong was not afraid of Gōngzhǔ but he could easily understand why at least half those gathered here clearly were. She didn't mince words when she promised there would be no swift end for those that did not perform as expected at this ball. And knowing her, it was no idle threat.

But in short order, they had been split off into smaller groups, each with their own instructors and he couldn't be more grateful to finally have his hands on Macaque. It also helped that their little group consisted largely of MK and his friends and while there was an amusing disparity in skill, it was Macaque's running commentary on everything in the room that helped put him most at ease.

It got to the point where he even felt comfortable bantering occasionally with some of the other dancers from time to time. If he just focused on his immediate surroundings he found he was beginning to enjoy himself.

Macaque suddenly snorted and Wukong grinned, "What is it?"

"Mei and MK are trying to figure out how Niú and Gōngzhǔ dance together."

Niú and Gōngzhǔ were observing the procedures and so were not dancing themselves, and currently Niú was towering over their group and assessing their performance. He could easily understand the confusion - Niú was a giant of a man. Dancing with someone their height was no easy task.

Macaque had a mischievous look on his face as he asked, "You mind if I show 'em how it's done?"

"What am I supposed to do in the meantime without a partner?"

Macaque grinned and quite deliberately steered them towards MK and Mei who were quite honestly terrible dance partners - they couldn't seem to stop laughing every time they so much as looked at each other. With some fancy turns, and a little bit of shadow magic, he suddenly found himself in Mei's place in front of MK.

A quick glance around revealed a number of couples had been swapped around while a rather relieved looking demon stood on the outskirts, clearly grateful for the chance to have a break and grab a drink. Much to Mei's delight and Red Son's consternation, the two of them were now partnered up.

MK, long since used to such antics, just looked pleased to see him, and Wukong felt equally happy to spend some time with him, "Hey, kid. You having a good time?"

MK beamed, "A great time! Although I don't think I've actually managed to learn anything yet but maybe with you here I'll finally get it! You up for teaching me one more lesson?"

Wukong laughed, "For you? Always!"

"You want to lead?"

"Nah. You lead, I'll follow. I've been leading all day - Macaque always wants the flashy role."

MK eyed up where Macaque was talking to Niú, "Don't I know it. Is he going to...?"

He looked over to see Macaque put on an overly formal act to ask Niú to dance which, to the apparent shock of a number of people present, Niú accepted equally formally.

The floor tripped over itself to clear a space for them. They bowed to one another and then almost immediately they were identifiable as the most graceful partners in the room.

He and MK were jostled as Mei deliberately bumped into them with Red Son and she hissed at MK, "How are they doing that? That's not possible."

Red Son scoffed at her as MK, equally curious, investigated with his golden vision, "Ah! I think it's like a mix of DBK stooping down a bit, Mac lifting himself with his shadows and a glamour to make it all look natural?"

He looked to him for confirmation and he happily obliged, "You got it, kid. There's loads of different ways to do it but this way, if you don't think too hard about it, looks the most natural, like you said."

MK looked around clearly trying to spot anyone else using this trick, "Oh hey, yeah now that I'm looking there's a couple of different spells at play around the room. Some shapeshifting, some glamours... Are they wearing stilts under their dress? Wow! That's actually super impressive!"

It was then his eyes seemed to catch on where they were holding hands and he could see how MK was going to unthinkingly expose him. He quickly drew his attention by tripping him slightly and when he had MK's eyes he shook his head minutely, desperately trying to communicate with him not to say anything.

Thankfully he got the hint, and even better the whole interaction seemed to have been missed by anyone else. Still focused on Niú and Macaque. Mei grinned slyly all of a sudden, and she aimed it at both him and Red Son, "Hey, those two are looking awful cosy, don't you think? A bit more than is proper I would say."

They were certainly toe-ing the line as to what would be considered appropriate in terms of closeness and demeanour. Niú tended to have quite a stoic expression when he was expected to embody his title as King but his facade was clearly cracking under whatever jokes or comments Macaque was making.

If Mei thought he was remotely bothered by their closeness however she was going to be sorely disappointed. They were monkeys - close physical contact with your friends was the done thing. They didn't have nearly the same hangups as humans did.

Red Son however was silently seething, although he could imagine it was less to do with the sight before him and everything to do with the fact that Mei would dare imply there was something going on.

Red Son kept it together remarkably well as he shoved Mei's face away from him and rather smoothly cut in between him and MK to steal the latter away as his new partner. Undeterred, Mei just followed along, trying to fit herself into a dance for two. MK shouted out an apology to him but he clearly wasn't getting out of this easily.

Welp, he was down a partner. Standing on the sidelines it was then. He'd only been there long enough to see Macaque now chatting with a very amused Gōngzhǔ before Niú came and stood beside him, "Wukong."

He smiled cheekily, "You here to ask me for a dance?"

A sharp gust of wind almost knocked him over as Niú laughed quietly before shooting a fond look over at his wife, "I think that would have dire consequences for us both."

He huffed as he straightened out his clothes and hair, before conversationally he commented, "Mac was telling me you and Gōngzhǔ have been at this whole dancing shtick for a while?"

"Cháng'é had a crossover episode with a professional ballroom dancer. We thought it looked entertaining enough to be a worthwhile endeavour."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of Cooking with Cháng'é - he really didn't see the appeal. Although admittedly he had gotten a bit more into cooking himself in the past few years, so maybe it was worth giving it another shot? It could be something to bond with Niú over too. He'd think about it.

He gestured to the room, "I'll say. Now you're using it for some lucrative networking. Bet you didn't see that coming."

All he got was a short, "Hm." Before Niú changed the subject, "I see Macaque prepared you for today."

"What? Nah, I'm just a naturally talented dancer."

Niú raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, "So talented you know all the steps before you've been instructed."

"Yup. It's a gift."

Niú rolled his eyes before he postured, "Clearly not that gifted, if Macaque left you to dance with me at the first opportunity."

He was being baited but he found himself powerless not to engage with a bit of friendly ribbing, "That's just because you were looking all sad and broody and tall all by yourself, he just felt sorry for you."

Niú huffed in amusement, "Believe what you will but what is indisputable is that he enjoyed our dance more."

He gaped in offense, "No, he didn't! We were in perfect sync - every move was flawless!"

"We had all that and more. We commanded the room - he loves nothing more than a captive audience. I am clearly the superior dance partner."

His rebuttal was cut off by a familiar voice, "Not to contradict you, your majesty. But I think you might find you're both wrong." They both looked over to see Mián pointing into the crowd and following their directions - they could see a very fond looking Macaque dancing with Bǎi Hé.

It was admittedly a very sweet sight and Niú huffed before standing tall, "A fine adversary to come in second to."

He nodded, "Yeah, I can accept- Hey! Wait! You're not second! I am!"

Their silly argument was interrupted again by the appearance of Chóu, who cooed, "Oh, what a lovely little lady. And just look at Macaque - what a wonderful father he would make!"

Mián was incredulous enough for the three of them, "Macaque!?"

Wukong had long since suspected that Chóu was delusional but he was absolutely sure of it now. Had she seen how he behaved around literally anyone that wasn't Bǎi Hé? He was an actual terror.

She simply nodded blithely, "Oh yes, I can see it. And in this unprecedented time of peace? Why, there's no greater time to start a family. So what are you two waiting for?"

"What are we...? We're not having kids, Chóu!"

Niú was beside himself, his booming laughter drawing far too many eyes for his liking. But he still couldn't get over the horror such an idea instilled in him.

She frowned, "Why not? Children are a blessing."

He looked at her a little helplessly, not even sure where to begin. He was sure she would find a way to counter anything he said - the impossibility of them having children? Where there's a will there's a way! We already have an island of monkeys to take care of? Oh, well you'll have plenty of company for the little ones then. We would be the worst parents imaginable? Nonsense, you'll have Auntie Chóu to keep you right!

Thankfully Mián answered for him, looking a little annoyed, "Chóu, we've been over this - not everyone wants to get married and have kids. You need to stop telling couples to "get a move on"."

Chóu huffed clearly getting wound up and Mián just physically turned her and started pushing her towards the exit, "Oh, would you look at the time? Sorry to have to leave so soon but ball gowns don't make themselves, you know? Ta-ta!"

That demon was worth their weight in gold. He'd have to find a way to properly thank them for saving him from that hellish conversation. He griped at Niú, "It wasn't that funny! C'mon, knock it off!"

Niú was wiping actual tears from his eyes and Wukong felt his own eye twitch as his tail flicked irritably. He glanced over at Macaque to gauge his reaction and saw an amused grin staring back at him for only a moment before he focused back on Bǎi Hé. Ugh, great. He couldn't wait for this to become a running gag.

After a truly unbecoming amount of time Niú calmed down and gave him a hearty pat on the back before going back to his duties. His parting words about how funny he was not at all a boost to his ego, not when he was being laughed at, not with.

This unfortunately left him on his own and a few brave souls looked like they wanted to take the chance of coming over and speaking to him and he silently begged Macaque to come back already. He didn't want to pull him away from Bǎi Hé but he would really prefer not to make small talk with strangers.

He was saved by MK coming over to see him, finally freed from Mei and Red Son's clutches - the pair of whom seemed to be having some sort of competition that involved innocent bystanders.

He questioned MK, "What are they...?"

MK shook his head, "I don't know and I don't want to know but either way I need a break. You want to go grab a drink?"

"Lead the way."

It was too much to expect MK to have forgotten about Macaque's magic on his person and his impish expression suggested he thought he already had the answer as he asked, "So, what's with your hand?"

He decided to play it cool, "Oh that? Just a little system Macaque and I came up with to communicate with each other in case things go sideways. Not to be a downer but this crowd is just a magnet for trouble. We're just being cautious."

MK clearly didn't believe him, "Uh-huh. Right. And not at all because you just want to hold Macaque's hand?"

"Pfft. As if. We're responsible immortals, not love-struck teenagers!"

He would just have to accept that his reputation had long been besmirched in his student's eyes, "Hm-mm. Don't worry, Wukong. Your secret is safe with me." The wink really wasn't necessary but at least the conversation could move on to less embarrassing topics.

It was nice having a moment to catch up with MK, it didn't last long enough for his liking but once Gōngzhǔ had straightened out the troublemakers the look she sent their way told them they better get back on the floor or suffer unimaginable hardship. MK couldn't scamper fast enough but Wukong refused to let himself be hurried and while he did make his way back, it was at a lax pace that had Gōngzhǔ narrowing her eyes.

It really was a lose-lose with her - if he'd scrambled to obey her she would have been equally unhappy by the show of "cowardliness" that she no doubt thought unbecoming of Macaque's chosen partner.

He was slightly worried as to who he was going to dance with but he was delighted to have Macaque meet him there. Wukong teased, "Just can't resist me, huh?"

"Thought I'd give you a chance to prove yourself my second favourite dance partner."

"I don't need to prove it! It's a fact!"

Macaque hummed, "My second favourite would rise to the challenge..."

If he'd said that on the island, Wukong would have taken the bait and pulled out all the stops to rise to the occasion but here? If he did anything remotely flashy they'd have every pair of eyes on them. Which honestly made him want to throw up but... Well, he knew Macaque would love it.

He fought with himself for a moment before trying to push down his fear as far as it would go in order to propose a deal, "Alright, I will prove it! But only if you promise that as soon as the dance is finished you get us out of here. Like immediately. Deal?"

He withstood Macaque's scrutiny for a long moment and he'd be lying if he said that the excited grin that slowly spread over Macaque's face didn't make his heart beat faster, "Deal. But I need to sort out one or two things first. I was Bǎi Hé's ride home."

"Ah, shoot. I forgot about that. You can't just ditch her... Just get me out of here then."

Macaque shook his head and took a step away, leaving a shadow clone in his place, "Oh no. You keep your end of the bargain and I already know I won't want to take my hands off you. Just give me a second."

He danced with the clone unthinkingly as he watched Macaque interrupt Bǎi Hé's dance in order to speak to her. Macaque wasn't going to tell her they were leaving because of him, right? He really would not like to move any further down the list of her not so favourite people.

But she didn't look upset - instead she looked quite excited and somehow that didn't make him feel better.

He thought he should be using this opportunity to figure out what he was going to do to impress Macaque but he knew if he started to think about it he would start to overthink it. He'd be fine. He was great at improvising - better to be in the moment.

He was slightly alarmed to watch Bǎi Hé take off in the opposite direction but Macaque wasn't at all concerned as he made his way back, dispelling the clone as he stepped into it, "Alright, Wukong. Last chance to back out. You ready?"

He took a deep breath. Just focus on the two of them. He was the master of focus - he could do this. He looked into Macaque's eyes and saw nothing but love and excitement and he stood tall as he postured, "As if I'd back down from a challenge. How do you feel about a costume change?"

Macaque's tail swayed happily behind him, "What do you have in mind?"

He had just enough time to fill him in on what outfits to grab with his shadows when Bǎi Hé's role in this became apparent. She had been sent to commandeer the music so that the next song that played was one that was definitely not on Gōngzhǔ's approved list but it was one Wukong knew well and was just a touch livelier to allow for him to really dazzle.

He pulled Macaque closer to them as shadows transformed their clothes. He sent up a silent prayer that Gōngzhǔ wouldn't be too mad and then he didn't give a second thought to anything other than Macaque.

--M--

As promised, barely a second after the song had ended, and an uproar of applause had started, he had felt the welcome swooping of falling through a shadow portal. His heart was pounding as his feet landed on solid ground but he was undeniably pleased with his performance, "Ha! How was that? I told you-!"

He was cut off as Macaque pulled him into an enthusiastic and passionate kiss and he was powerless not to respond in kind. The adrenaline still pumping through him urging him on and he just couldn't pull Macaque close enough to him.

He almost wasn't aware of the fact Macaque had started to walk him backwards until the back of his knees hit the couch and at Macaque's firm push he sat gracelessly but he was given no time to dwell on it when Macaque was suddenly in his lap and had picked up right from where they left off.

He was immensely pleased that he'd done such a good job that Macaque intended to kiss him senseless as a reward and he couldn't help but break the kiss briefly to preen, "That good, huh?"

Macaque's hands came to either side of his face, and all he got was a painfully fond, "That good." Before he was swept back up in a toe curling kiss. Damn, no sarcastic comment or quip? He really had impressed. Oh, he was going to relish in this victory for days to come.

He couldn't recall Macaque ever being quite this handsy anytime they'd made out before, not that he was complaining, but when his hands found his way under his shirt and all but groped him he broke off their kiss once more intending to ask where the fire was. However, this only prompted Macaque to duck his head and lavish his neck with attention, surprising a sharp gasp from him.

Admittedly, a little distracted by Macaque's hands and lips, it took him a moment to find his words again. For as much as he was enjoying the attention, this was unfamiliar territory and he was honestly a little unsure how to reciprocate. Did he just copy Macaque? He obviously couldn't kiss him like this, was he supposed to wait his turn or something?

"Mac...?"

Macaque hummed in response, not stopping in his ministrations, so he tried again, "Mac? Can we, uh, have a time out?"

Thankfully Macaque did sit up, albeit looking a little amused, "A time out?"

A little awkwardly, he explained, "Uh, yeah. Just to, y'know, check in?"

Still somewhat bemused by this, Macaque removed his hands from under his shirt to loosely wrap his arms around Wukong's shoulders, "Alright. How you doing then?"

He cleared his throat, "I'm great! Peachy, even! I'm just, er, maybe not a hundred percent sure on what the plan is here?"

Macaque grinned, kissing his cheek before answering, "The plan is you sit back and reap the reward for that spectacular performance."

"And that sounds awesome but just so we're on the same page here... What exactly are you planning to do?"

Because he had his suspicions things were going in a direction that he had been pretty confident they were never going to go in - seeing as Macaque couldn't fully participate - and as such he really wasn't sure what to make of it.

Macaque chuckled lowly, and there really was no mistaking that suggestive tone, "What would you like me to do?"

Nervously, he asked, "Go back to kissing me? Er, just kissing me?"

"You do realise I'm offering to do a lot more than kiss you, right?"

"No, yeah, I was picking up on that but, y'know, maybe I just want to kiss you?"

Macaque leaned back slightly and looked at him oddly, "There a reason for that?"

"I just like kissing you?"

He almost winced at how unsure that had sounded and Macaque just couldn't seem to comprehend what was wrong with him until it seemed to click, "Wait. Are you nervous?"

Immediately he refuted, "No! I mean, it's just that I- We haven't- You can't-"

Macaque was looking far too pleased with this turn of events, "Isn't this just precious? You want me to walk you through what I was planning to do to you? Do a Q&A to help put those first time jitters to rest?"

He could already feel his face getting warm, "No, you ass! I'm not nervous! That's not the problem!"

Ok, he was a little nervous but that wasn't the real issue here. Macaque clearly didn't believe him if that smug grin was anything to go by but still he said, "Let's hear it then. What is the problem?"

He faltered on how to elegantly word it, and his fingers started tapping nervously where they lay on Macaque's hips, "You can't... I mean, I can't return the favour?"

He was sure Macaque understood what he had meant but chose to deliberately avoid the issue, "You don't need to "return the favour" this is about me showing my appreciation, you've already done your part."

"Well, I think you've already done that - that make out session has more than shown how much you appreciated it."

Macaque leaned back and crossed his arms, an annoyed expression on his face, "Are you seriously turning me down just because I can't get it up? We talked about this - me not being able to do something doesn't mean you need to miss out."

"This is so not the same as not being able to drink!"

"How?"

"Because it's not fair! You won't get anything out of it!"

Macaque tsked, "You really think I won't get anything out of it? I want to do this. It feels good to make you feel good. And not just through our magic, I like doing things for you."

He crossed his own arms and glared up at him, "Doing things like using artefacts that made you feel bad?"

He would be lying if he said thoughts of their conversation about Macaque's concerns over Wukong growing bored of him weren't echoing in his head. This was absolutely not something he was going to allow Macaque to do if that was a factor.

"That's not the same!"

"How?"

"At what point did I seem like I wasn't enjoying what I was doing?"

Well... He had him there. Macaque had never been enthusiastic about the artefacts but he had seemed very much in his element before Wukong had interrupted him for this conversation.

Petulantly he responded, "Well, you're supposed to be the actor here, you could be faking it."

Macaque wasn't impressed, "You really think that's what I was doing?"

Reluctantly he replied, "No..."

He hadn't believed it even as he had said it. Macaque asked, "So what's the problem here?"

"It just... Doesn't feel right."

Him being the only one getting off reeked of the sort of selfishness he had tried to put well behind him. He didn't want a repeat of what sex between them used to be like when they were younger.

After a long moment, Macaque sighed and he looked a little more understanding, "Alright, look, it's fair to say your experience of what sex can be is pretty limited, right? So let me let you in on something - you don't always have to get off to have a good time. It's like fishing - you don't have to have caught a fish to have enjoyed it."

He mulled this over, he did understand the logic but still, "It's one thing to go fishing and not catch anything but why would you go fishing if you knew there was no fish to be caught?"

"Now, you're just being obtuse. In this example, it's all about the company. Although, you really are making me doubt my choice in company."

He lowered his arms and rested his hands on Macaque's thighs as he thought it over. No denying the company made all the difference, sex with someone else had never been a consideration but at the same time when he had imagined sleeping with Macaque it hadn't looked like this.

He couldn't quite meet Macaque's eyes as he tried to explain, "Even if I can wrap my head around that. I... I don't want sex just about getting off, or whatever, I..." He could feel his face growing steadily redder as he admitted, "I want it to mean something, for it to be... Special, I guess."

Macaque brought a hand to his cheek and directed his face up in order to give him quite possibly the most breathtaking kiss he'd ever received. It lacked the urgency of their earlier kissing but it somehow felt more intense.

It didn't last nearly long enough and when Macaque pulled back he felt dazed, although he was sure his expression was something awed and adoring. Macaque's face was close to his when he all but whispered, "Special enough for you?"

He swallowed thickly and nodded mutely. Macaque started to place a trail of gentle kisses along his cheek towards his ear, using them to punctuate his sentences, "I can make this special. I can be gentle. Tender. Loving. Let me show you. Let me worship every inch of you."

Worship...?

Such an ugly word was enough to snap him out of the haziness he had been falling prey to. He didn't want this one-sided devotion that Macaque was offering him. It evoked this awful image of a king being lavished by his subject. He didn't want to be Macaque's king, he wanted to be his equal.

He brought his hand up to take hold of Macaque's and bring it down to his lap, he looked down as he quietly admitted, "I can't. I'm sorry."

He felt no small amount of relief as he watched Macaque take hold of his hand properly, before he asked, "What's going on?"

He cringed shamefully, as he tried to explain, "I just can't get over how selfish it feels. I want to do everything for you that you want to do for me. I don't- I don't want to be worshipped, not if I can't do the same. I just... I'm sorry. I know you want to do this but I just..."

Macaque was quiet for a moment before he let out a gentle sigh, and kissed his forehead, "It's ok. If you don't want to do this then that's all there is to it."

He looked up a little wary, "You're not upset or mad?" Then slightly more panicked he asked, "You're not going to be all messed up over this, right? Fuck, I know you stress out about our relationship and then I went and... It's not your fault. I'm not upset we can't do this, I mean, I am upset I can't do this for you but I'm- I-"

Macaque hushed him, "Alright. Calm down. You're fine. We're fine. I'm fine. Stop freaking out. Just give me a minute to think..."

He pulled Wukong close to him as he did so and Wukong held him close as he focused on trying to breathe.

Slowly Macaque tried to put his thoughts into words, "Ok, if this isn't a thing that can ever happen then that's fine... But your problem is not being able to reciprocate, right? Well, what if you could? It wouldn't be the same but, I don't know, maybe it's something we can work on."

He looked up at him, "What do you mean?"

Macaque admitted a little awkwardly, "If I'm being honest, the thought of you touching me and me not responding to it sort of stresses me out. Maybe that's something to explore first? Like, I really, really don't want you touching my dick but that doesn't mean there aren't other things we can try. Maybe a slightly more handsy make out session is a good starting point? Figure out how my magic and everything responds? I think we could still make this work if we can work on both our hang ups."

Handsy make out sessions definitely felt within their wheelhouse and he felt a bit more optimistic about this whole thing if the plan was to take their time with it.

He nodded, "I think I can get behind that." He stared at Macaque searchingly for a moment before stating, "You really wanted this, didn't you?"

Macaque sighed heavily, "Yeah, I guess I did. I just... I know this is something I can still do, and that it could be good. That we could both get something out of, even if it's not the same thing... But we'll figure it out. We always do. Besides, what's the rush? We've got time, right?"

Enamoured, Wukong wrapped his arms around him, "All the time in the world."

----

It was several hours later, as he was doing the dishes, that a much less important detail from today came to mind and he paused and looked over at Macaque, "Er, by the way, about what Chóu-"

"No, I don't want kids."

"Oh, thank god." Despite being almost a hundred percent sure that would be his answer, he couldn't deny the relief he felt. He shook his head, "Can you honestly believe she thought we'd make good parents?"

Macaque grimaced, "I don't like to think of the ways we would mess up a kid. Also, imagine if they had powers like we have? I think we have an obligation to the world to never find a way to reproduce."

He whole heartedly agreed.

--Chapter End--

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LMK Fanfic Masterlist

[syncopein3d]

The Warm One Part 2: Stay

Part 1

CW/relevant tropes (I'm a bit new to this format, so let me know if I miss any): living weapon, lady whump, magic whump, traumatic restraints, implied past injury, off-screen whumper, servant caretaker, other species caretaker (Orc), brief mention of pedestrian nudity.

"Tonight the Master of Sorceries comes to take me to supper with Their Divine Majesties, may they live forever," the weapon says. She sits at the vanity in a silver brocade gown as her thin brown hair is aggressively twisted and pinned in an elaborate arrangement of little curls and loops. The maid isn't cruel on purpose. She is afraid, in a hurry to be gone. Another paints the weapon's face dead white to cover her dark, baggy eyes as she looks up into the mirror's reflection.

"Yes, Milady," says the Orc there. He stands with his hands at his sides, watching.

"The Master likes them to see how much control he has before the campaign begins. So I may be late. You can go to bed if you get tired. Yours is behind the curtain."

"Yes, Milady." They haven't put him into corsets, thank goodness, so she can still see his belly hanging over his belt in his velvet tunic. He towers over the maids, looking awkward with his black hair hair newly cut short. The eyes that regard her curiously are yellow and slit-pupiled sideways, like a frog. He is sort of an olive color, also like a frog. The weapon likes that.

"They'll bring you food, as much as you want. Is there anyone you need to tell?"

"No, Milady. My parents are with the gods. My daughter is in the army."

"Her mother?" the weapon asks.

"She was at the delaying action at Kalthanos," the Orc says. "Some ten years now." The weapon nods, producing a worried cluck from the maid.

"Yes. The Master was waiting for me to recover so he could use me again. I remember. I am sorry that I caused her death."

"You didn't cause her death," the Orc says. "A Kalthan archer did. I was there. That's why I was carrying wood. I get lame if I try to run now. Can't keep up with the horses."

This is the most he has so far said in one go. Through the fog of pain and weakness the weapon looks at him with something Iike surprise. It is a new idea that something might not be her fault. He looks back without any suggestion of fear or anger or artifice, only simple curiosity. This, too, is new.

There is a knock at the door. The weapon rises, tightly bound by corsetry and pins, her gorgeous golden bracers heavy on her wrists and a golden comb heavy atop the confection of hair. She has never scarred so much that she can't feel the twin needles in her wrist veins.

The Master of Sorceries is waiting in the hallway as sunset stripes the carpets with gold. He is older than the weapon, but he looks younger. He is handsome, perfectly groomed, broad-shouldered and athletic and well-rested. His body is nearly perfect and his eyes are so very blue. The weapon looks back at her orc, huge, a little fat, the colors of a frog. And she smiles very slightly as she turns to go.

"Something amuses you?" The Master of Sorceries asks, his silken tone a warning.

"I am only pleased with your gift, Master. Thank you."

"So you will behave tonight, then?" he asks.

"Yes. I will be very well-behaved, Master."

When she returns, night has fallen. Maids hustle her inside to peel her out of her expensive garments and hang them up, smoothing them anxiously. The Orc is there poking up the fire. He turns away politely. The chemical wash to get the makeup layer burns a little as another maid works on her face.

"I don't care if you see," she says. "On campaign you will probably have to help. I'm sorry," she adds wearily.

"Don't be sorry, Milady." He turns back in time to see the shift come off over her head. The layers of stiffened fabric are meant to support more bosom than she has, oddly stuffed with rags, as if it was made for someone a little heavier. Her body is thin and wasted, every rib able to be counted. A spreading nest of scars covers the front of her body from collarbones to the thin fuzz of the pubic mound. It looks red and angry against the very pale skin, a seam and many branches. "What happened?" he asks, staring at it.

"The shift is tulle," the weapon says, absently misunderstanding the question. "It scratches." The scars vanish under a woolen robe, the maids push slippers onto her feet, and then they yank the pins out of her hair and flee, pushing the brush into her hand. She looks at it blankly, swaying as her support vanishes. What does she usually do at this point? Right. She usually falls over. Her knees are starting to buckle when suddenly, the world goes past slightly downwards and now she is surrounded by warmth. The Orc carries her over to the chair by the fire and sets her there, a little sideways. A huge hand appears around her shoulder, holding the brush. She looks at it blankly for a long moment before she nods.

"Very good, Milady." She expects him to be rougher with her hair than the maids are, but she is too limp to brace herself. So it comes as a surprise when his fingers begin carefully teasing the knots out. The weapon sits quietly, bathed in unexpected comfort, struggling to stay awake.

"What's your name?" she asks eventually, words a little slurred.

"Aldo, Milady."

"Just Aldo?"

"Just Aldo. Does Milady have a name?"

"No," she says. "I am the Wrath of the King. There was one before me. There will be another when I'm gone."

He is quiet as he works on her hair for a while. Now she can feel the bristles of the brush, but carefully, never scraping hard against her scalp.

"You've done this before," she says. Her voice is very small now. She hardly knows what she said. The pain in her wrists is constant, but this feels good. Nothing has felt good in this small, safe way in a long, long time. It washes over her in somnolent, gentle waves.

"My daughter had fine hair when she was small." For a moment his hand cups her skull and the back of her neck, gently turning her, and the wash of sheer overwhelming warmth fades the world completely away. She isn't sorry to see it go as her head grows heavy in his hand.

When next she knows anything, she is being laid down on the mattress, bare feet tucked in between cold silk sheets. She shivers, blindly groping without opening her eyes. One hand tangles in warm velvet, the hem of the Orc's tunic.

"Stay," she says. "Please. You can keep all your clothes on, just - stay."

"Yes," he says. There's no 'Milady' this time. She hears him pushing off his indoor boots and unbuckling his hard belt, and then the huge mattress indents beside her, rolling her down a small slope. His hands check her at shoulder and hip as he settles on his side. Heat begins to build under the covers immediately. The weapon presses herself weakly against the big soft belly. A heavy arm slides around her. Later she will remember that he doesn't feel stiff, tense. The muscle under the fat lies slack.

"I might make noises," she says. "Bad ones. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you, Aldo."

"I'm not afraid." Now she can feel the basso rumble of his voice through his body. "You can sleep. It's all right."

"You'll be here?" she is fighting it, even though she can't open her eyes.

"I'll be here. Shhhh, shh."

She doesn't know if it's true or not, but she wants it to be badly enough to let go. The world slides away down a dark tunnel.

There will be nightmares. There always are. But this time Aldo will be there to rub her back just a little, quietly, and tell her they're not real. And for a little while it will be all right.

Part 3

[ms0milk]

kishibe's nsfw alphabet

just wanna be kishibe's unbreakable toy [cw] uuh, he's a little fucked up actually. mentions of predator/prey, creampie, dom/sub dynamics, subspace-kinda, dacryphilia, overstim. descriptions of dubcon, throat fucking, sadism MDNI.

✎  ༘⋆alphabet masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

mm it takes him a while to graduate from: lighting a cigarette and leaving, to: not stopping you when you invite yourself to join him in the shower.

As you become more and more a part of each other’s lives, he takes time to spread balm on your bruises or bandage the places where his nails dug into your body from gripping too tight. He’s got focus like a mechanic, more than a doctor, as he dabs alcohol on bite marks along your shoulder. He won’t admit it he doesn’t actually realize, but he so, so badly does not want you to break.

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Kishibe is 1000% a thigh man. Size doesn’t matter, length doesn’t matter, color, hair, muscle, fat, he doesn’t fucking care. He just wants to mark them up, and then watch them buckle underneath of you as he fucks you to your limit over the kitchen counter. Thighs never lie.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I don’t think this man has much interest in cum past the methods necessary to get his cum into you. Kishibe loves how tidily you swallow every drop, he loves how much easier it makes his life and he loves that you can take it.

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

How do I explain to you that this man is insane. He is clinically deranged, can you fathom a sexual secret of his so terrible that he hasn’t told a soul????

imo, any sexual secret he’s keeping isn’t ‘being kept’ so much as ‘he doesn’t have anyone to tell bc they all died before he could make a single friend.’ Who’s he gonna tell that he wears a buttplug in the field just to feel something? God? You. That’s all he has. It takes shame to keep a secret, which is a burden he does not bear.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Uhh yeah, it’s common knowledge that Kishibe is the office slut and has held the title for like 25+ years. First he was the prettyboy recruit, then the lonewolf bachelor, and now he’s the seemingly immortal dilf that brushes his stubbly cheek against yours from behind when he drops paperwork off at your desk.

Kishibe will fuck anything with a proper pulse, but most living things can’t survive him (this is literal only very rarely). So he has plenty of sexual experience, but the only real experience he has truly letting loose is in a fist fight to the death. You’re new.

F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying)

From behind, from behind, from behind– he wants to shove you into every surface, he wants to pull your hair and grab your ass, he wants sneak up behind you in the kitchen with a hand over your mouth and sink inside as deep as you’ll let him

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Kishibe is not a silly gentleman, and as predictable as this sounds I just cannot milk a more creative answer out of me. However! you can make him smile.

When you call him the name he's only ever told you (as he softens with age), he’ll do it, the corners of his lips will curve up even slightly. Even if it’s only to himself and even if it’s hours– days later– when he’s alone somewhere, you’re still the one that’s making him do it over a bowl of cold noodles in a piece of shit udon stall somewhere.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s trimmed, but not much thought past the monthly clean-up goes into his grooming routine. Kishibe likes to be tidy, but he’s not getting creative and he’s not too concerned about your preferences on the matter. He has the smallest little happy trail that threatens over the top of his briefs, which often makes you smile :)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sue me, I just think Kishibe is a soft sentimental man. Not physically soft, but I think he can be very romantic in his own way. His face will never change, worry, joy, or sadness, but he’s not a demon. He feels. As a matter of fact he’s actually quite surprised with how much time he spends thinking about you and all the different faces you make for him throughout the day. Sexual or not.

If you’ve had a difficult day he’ll spend hours upon hours working you up into a weepy wet mess in his lap and you know it’s to comfort you even if you’re so sensitive it hurts. My favorite thing about him is that no matter how rough he’s being, or how badly he’s marking you up, if you hold his face and kiss him he will always cup your cheeks and kiss you back.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

He masturbates a normal amount for a man who works full time, maybe a few times a week outside the bedroom, but it’s almost always to satisfy some monkey-brain urge and not because he’s actually horny. If he were, he’d simply stuff you full at the office or bring you home with him after work.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lord forgive me, this man could be game for anything at any moment. Kishibe loves catching you off guard, he loves to hunt you, he loves giving you whispered orders, he loves to tie you up, he loves the ownership that comes with cumming inside you– he will never cum anywhere else. He wants to make you cry. He loves fucking you in public, and he then loves getting caught. More than anything he wants your heart to race with anticipation and just a little fear.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

A bed or couch will do just fine, but since meeting you he’s become a bit of an exhibitionist. He likes to use you on the balcony, against your bedroom window, in the office bathroom, in alleys, even on your desk after hours. Someone watching him doesn’t really get him off, but Kishibe quite likes the way you react when a coworker walks past the stall he's teasing you in. Or when you see a neighbor on their balcony across the street and clutch his biceps to slow down as he fucks you into his lap.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He’s not fully aware of it, but domesticity is so rare in his line of work that it’s almost taboo and it turns him on so goddamn much. Watching you try to work the blood out of his clothes with your stupid little stain remover pen 😶 Realizing he’s nodding off as you read a mission report out loud beside him 😧 When he spends the night and you pack him a lunch too, before you both head out for work 😳

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Kishibe does not want to damage you. He wants to push you, mark you, he’ll hurt you, but for the first time in his life he doesn’t truly want to test the warranty of his unbreakable toy.

He’ll tell himself how good it feels to use his full strength when he cracks his belt against your ass to hear you cry and feel you tighten around him, but tbh, he'll always stop short of letting loose. Even if you ask him to, he’ll give you enough to fuck you unconscious but will never truly give 100%. He’s afraid. He also doesn’t realize this.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers receiving, and more than that he loves to choke you with his cum 🤠

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s a polite, straightforward and stoic man but he is so, so rough with you. He’ll grip your waist hard enough to bruise and practically lift you off the ground to bounce you on his cock as fast as he wants it. There is no mercy when he backs you against a wall. He pinches your mouth open with a rough hand and fucks your throat deep enough it stifles any choked sounds you might be making.

He only moves slowly, a light touch of his tongue or fingers, when he wants you to join him at the brink of legitimate insanity

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickie king yessir, Kishibe knows how to maximize the amount of time you have between missions or on your paltry lunch breaks, although a quickie with Kishibe means he’s going to be selfish and there’s no way around it. Sometimes being selfish looks like using any hole of his choosing to release some pent-up energy and leave you gasping, and sometimes it looks like going down on you on the bathroom counter with his arms locked so tightly around your thighs you can’t escape.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

What would he even consider risky? Fucking above a vat of acid? He’s game. A new kink? What, you wanna drink his blood? Sure. He’s creative, he’s got time, and he’s all in for you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You are precious to Kishibe, regardless of whether he admits it, realizes it, tells you, tells himself, or does anything about it. No matter what he does, you don’t break. You’re a miracle. He’s fucked your body into a shape perfectly molded for him alone. He can exhaust himself with you and will attempt exhaustion every time.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Unfortunately for you yes, Kishibe does own toys and he very much likes watching you use them. “Use” is a strong word, more, he likes watching you break under them, r.i.p friend. His penchant for overstimulation translates directly to vibrators, ropes, and plugs of all sizes. But don’t worry! he’s not trying to legitimately hurt you, he just likes to push you to your limit, every. single. time

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

I would say he likes it too much, if tease was the right word. Again, he likes to test your physical limits, and if being teased or edged gets a reaction out of you, ofc he’s gonna see just how much you can handle before you’re a stupid, limp puddle in his arms.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not making a pleasured peep past grunting or sighing, but his expressions say it all! Every clench of his jaw, or furrow of his brow that breaks his calm demeanor is the thing feral dreams are made of i SWEAR. Sometimes his placid eyes blink to life the second he realizes your legs are giving out and he’s one step closer to breaking that soft mind of yours for the night.

W = Wild Card (a random headcanon for the character)

Kishibe's a little playful ☠️ He likes to sneak up on you, especially if he’s had a slow day at work, at the worst possible times just because he knows it’ll make your heart race even faster if you think he’s a devil. He’ll catch papers you drop at work by throwing a letter opener across the office and nailing them to the wall. His skill as a hunter is sexy, but he plays too much fr

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I know he’s 50, I know he’s an emotionally withered husk that survives on cigarettes and liquor, but he put two grown humans in a head lock, lifted them off the ground, and then broke both their necks with his forearms. I just think he’s built like a tank, liquid diet be damned, I think his body is one of those hauntingly beautiful abandoned catholic churches where you go to try and fuck the devil.

Kishibe has scars over every inch of his body, most of them pointing to injuries no one could have survived, and some that look like he carved them himself out of boredom. He’s lean but absolutely solid– no rippling abs or swollen pecs– just full soft edges that promise power. His dick is a perfectly normal length, with a perfectly sweet upward curve, and a perfectly evil girth that makes your jaw sore to look at and makes your brain soup when he stretches you around it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Kishibe isn’t very lustful. He’s horny and he’s hot and has accepted every many a hookup request from coworkers, civilians, and devils. But if he never had sex again, he’d be completely fine. You’re only the second person he’s ever actively felt attracted to in his life and it’s because you’re so goddamn durable. It just so happens your durability is in the bedroom and not a sparring ring, so he entertains himself with you there. Believe me, he doesn’t leave you wanting for much in the sexual satisfaction department.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Staying up late with Kishibe is sweet peace. Sex doesn’t put him to sleep, but neither does anything else, so sometimes when you have the energy you stay up late, you join the devil hunter in sitting on your balcony and watching the stars. It’s a funny thing watching the man of immortal apathy light up a cigarette beside you as dawn tickles the sky

When you inevitably fall asleep, Kishibe pinches his cig in his lips and pulls your blanket up to your chin, or watches you from the corner of his eye to make sure nothing changes in the rhythm of your breathing. He puts his cigarette out if the wind blows in your direction. He loves you very much.

which character do you want next? send a request!

[atornpageold]

i’ve been rewatching way too much game of thrones and my mind did a thing. i don’t even know what half of this is.

1.1k mess of words (cw: brief mentions of sex as negotiating i guess?)

"Now, my dear prince, I am sure we can come to some sort of agreement." 

Obi-Wan liked to believe that he possessed some charm that would help Prince Skywalker see that an alliance between their two kingdoms was mutually beneficial for all parties, especially if Skywalker were to commit his men to the cause. In the Force, he could feel the swirl of emotions coming from the other side of the table; temptation and indecision at war. He understood that the choice he had put the young man in was not easy—it had been the very same choice he had needed to make months ago. There were many moments of self-doubt in the time that followed, but Obi-Wan believed that he was doing what was best for his people. He needed to believe that, or perhaps the cause would be lost. 

The man on the other side shifted, sitting taller in his chair and looking as regal as true royalty should. For a moment, Obi-Wan wondered if his ancestors had once looked the same before the King who Knelt. He knew he certainly didn't; he had been raised as lord, ready to lead his ancestral home and land, but never with the title of king attached to his name. No, that had been a surprise all its own. 

"I assume you want our army," Prince Skywalker said, blue eyes meeting blue. The color of his eyes was stark against his tan skin and dark curly blonde hair. 

Tatooine's army had been a brief and passing thought, but it was tempting now that the prince had brought it up. Obi-Wan's army wasn't small, but he knew the enemy forces were significant. Outmaneuvering them had been and would continue to be the main focus. But if the prince was offering...

"More men would, of course, be welcomed."

The prince raised a brow at that. "Anything else besides my soldiers and my safety?" 

That had been the original request—the safe passage of Obi-Wan's forces through Tatooine lands. For days after becoming king, he had painstakingly looked at every angle and kingdom to find the best advantage to surround the capital city. The safest choice was sending half his army to the south, to Tatooine, and then marching north. The path to victory would be a bloody one. 

But the crown needed to answer for their injustice. 

That was why he was here, sitting in this tent with two of his most trusted advisers and looking across at the prince of the desert kingdom. 

"That's more than I could hope for."

The prince sat back, the fingers of his right hand tapping against the arm of the chair in some pattern. For a flashing moment, Obi-Wan wanted to still that movement, wrap those fingers up in his own. The prince was by no means unattractive; he was confident the other man had suitors lining up from all walks of life just for a chance at a conversation. Perhaps, if he was desperate enough, that option could be on the table—he wasn't above using his body as a form of persuasion. Not if it got him the results he wanted, and it certainly wouldn't be a hardship to kriff the handsome prince. But that could come later, much later, and only if words and other methods failed horribly. 

One of the prince's advisers leaned down to whisper in his ear, her montrals brushing against his shoulder. The prince nodded, and the adviser moved away, studying Obi-Wan with intelligent and calculating eyes. 

"And how do I know you wouldn't betray me? Send your army here and take my kingdom?" 

Obi-Wan returned his gaze to the prince, his most charming smile gracing his lips. "Is my word not enough?"

"You're asking me to betray the king of the Sith and all its kingdoms. You can understand why we would want something a little more solid."

It wasn't an unreasonable request. Had he been in Skywalker's position, he probably would have asked for the same thing. This was where his true talent lay, the negotiating table. All those years of being groomed in diplomacy were perhaps finally ready to pay off. 

"What would you suggest?"

The prince and his adviser exchanged a brief glance before she stepped forward again.

"We would like to propose a temporary Force-bond," her voice was confident and firm, unafraid to speak even though she couldn't have been more than twenty summers. 

"I'm sorry?" Quinlan Vos, one of his advisers (mainly because the second Obi-Wan had decided to march south, he was already gathering the men but also because he had been his friend for as long as he could remember), asked in surprise.

"A temporary Force-bond," she repeated slowly.  

Obi-Wan wanted to roll his eyes because, yes, they had understood that part. It was the fact that they were suggesting the bond in the first place that was the surprise. While temporary Force-bonds were convenient in terms of an alliance such as this, they were also rare, as most people didn't want someone else in their head. They also tended to have... unique side effects. But still, the idea that you could feel your bonded's emotions through the link made the act of betrayal difficult. 

"And if we were to agree," Obi-Wan began, eyeing the pair across the table with curious eyes, "what guarantees do we have that you won't try to take advantage of our bond?"

Skywalker scoffed. "Unlike you, I don't have a stake in this. This is personal for you," he paused, his gaze turning sympathetic. "I am sorry for your loss. I don't believe it was said yet." 

Obi-Wan nodded firmly in acknowledgment. 

"Tatooine has primarily been outside Sith control for over a hundred years, living outside the fold. However, it would be gratifying to be our own kingdom again," Anakin smiled. "That we have in common."

Obi-Wan nodded, even as Vos began arguing again about the temporary Force-bond. In the Force, he could feel his guide pacing anxiously outside the tent, and he wondered what that image looked like; a sizeable gray loth-wolf, two humans tall, pacing back and forth in front of the cloth. Around him, the volume of the voices grew.

"I'll do it," he answered loudly, and Vos turned his head, his left eye twitching. 

"Are you mad?" His adviser shouted.

"We both have the same goal; to be our own kingdoms again," he nodded to the prince. "I don't see why this alliance can't achieve that." With both armies fighting for their freedom, there were better chances they would win.

"And besides," Obi-Wan continued, "it's only a temporary bond."

[starfall-spirit]

The Silver-Tongued Bride

STB Masterlist

CW: Mention/implication of sex. Very brief UtM flashback. Nothing too serious. I mean, you’re here for dark!rhys, right?

Word Count: 1285

Chapter IV: Wife or Weapon?

Feyre

Rhysand let things be when it was Thesan and Helion keeping her company, but things were a bit more tense when the seasonal lords began approaching. Despite the impressive distance Feyre had put between herself and her groom, Kallias had hardly taken three steps towards her before Rhysand was back at her side. "Pardon us, Kallias. Feyre darling." She scowled as he ushered her away from the others, his burnt hands already glamoured.

"Convinced I'm going to start a coup, Rhysand?"

He snarled as if it had crossed his mind a time or two. "Rhys." I raised a brow. "Only my enemies call me Rhysand."

"You're correcting me, why?"

“One’s husband shouldn’t be considered their enemy, darling.” She rolled her eyes, once again shoving against him and moving inside, ignoring the split second of concern on the guards' faces.

So much for the fancy mating reception every female dreamed of. Despite their history Under the Mountain, her stomach tightened with nerves as Rhysand shoved her into his room. Though she had thought her fear was hidden quickly, he took one look at her face and scoffed. "Feyre, I've never bed an unwilling female and I'm not going to start with you."

Relief flooded in, though this time she did well in masking it. "Why am I here, if not for consummation? I was in my own private room earlier, was I not?"

"Indeed. And if you're so against sleeping beside your husband, you may return. But not yet."

"Oh?"

"First—” He let the glamour fall from his injured hands, though the shine of the burns had already faded to tender pink patches. "—you're going to show me a few parlor tricks. Tell me, Feyre, what else transferred?" She held her tongue. "You're terribly lucky Beron didn't come sniffing when I flinched up there. Likely expected you were putting those nails to use rather than his fire."

Beron. The High Lord of Autumn would kill her sooner than Rhysand ever thought to, should he discover the power she possessed, untrained as it was. "Why do you think I've kept it so quiet, Rhysand? If you weren't hunting me, one of the others would come knocking any day."

He hummed, draping his jacket over a nearby chair and dropping his shoes in his large wardrobe before reclining in his downturned bed. “Well, darling. Dazzle me.”

She was suddenly tense for an entirely different reason. Under Azriel’s guidance Feyre had mastered the gifts she used day by day. Honestly, she was afraid of what she could do with the power the High Lords bestowed individually. Even with her shields in place, Rhysand—Rhys—saw that immediately.

“I can sense it, now that I’m searching. You’re radiating potential, Feyre. You—”

“Am I here as your wife or weapon, Rhysand?”

He chuckled. “Can’t you be both, love?”

“Don’t you ‘love’ me, ass.”

Summoning a filled rocks glass to his nightstand, he pushed up on his elbows, his eyes losing their cocky humor. “Come here,” he ordered.

It brought her back to a very different time and place. A place where she was a broken girl who saw a distraction in the High Lord before her.

“Come here, Feyre.”

He winnowed then from that terrible party to his own bedroom which Feyre had only seen when she had been put to the task of picking lentils from the fireplace. Before she could set myself straight he was guiding her by the hips, her disorientation only worsened by the feeling of his lips on hers.

She moaned. There was no use pretending there was only hatred between them these days

“Delectable creature. It’s a crime that it’s taken me this long to get a taste of you. You dance for me but I barely get my mouth on you at those parties.”

“Rhysand—”

“Hush, Feyre darling. I think both of us want this distraction, don’t we?” She whimpered as he tongued over a swirl of paint on her neck, still hating the heat and need that was so obviously coming from her. That she wanted him. “Feyre.”

“Yes,” she murmured, shuttering as his body rolled over hers, pinning her down on his dark sheets, fingertips ghosting up her leg—taunting, gentle—until she instinctively parted for him. “Rhysand.”

He placed a kiss on either thigh, one after the other. “My pretty pet.” Grinning like a fiend, the Night Lord sank to his knees before her.

Feyre swallowed, turning her back on the insufferable male giving me orders. She could almost feel the smirk slipping back onto his face. As horrible as that place was, there had been moments she felt… she still wasn’t sure what she had felt down there, other than gratitude at the reprieve from her cell.

Still, her pride was worth more to her than a few nights of sex. “Good night, Rhys,” she huffed, hoping that using his preferred name would be enough for him to stop pestering her about that fire.

"Feyre, it's been three years. It's a miracle you're still sane, keeping that power untrained."

"You're so set on killing me now, why bother digging into my gifts? I can siphon it off as I need to. Trust me. Good night."

Without another word she marched out the door and down the hall, ignoring the few staff members eyeing her. The Cursebreaker Bride. Just before Feyre shut the door adjacent to his, she caught sight of someone rather unexpected. Perhaps she shouldn't be so surprised Cassian was milling about. A guard nearby looked ready to interfere when she jerked her head, signaling for the general to join her.

"Go bark to your master. See what the bastard has to say about it."

"Feyre." Cassian frowned, trailing her into the room. "Why didn't you request a pardon?"

"I doubt his two week bargain had much to do with Death Dawn periods. I can get past the wards as a Wraith. Keep reporting to Az while protecting other girls."

"Rhys plays games. He doesn't let other people play him,” he reminded her. “As amusing as he may find you currently—"

"Is this only a matter of amusement if he wants to train and weaponize the power inherited from the High Lords, Cassian? Or is he smart enough to know he needs something special, going against Hybern?"

His eyes were wary. "He knows about your other gifts? He got past your shields?"

She chuckled. "I burned the bastard while saying I'd stand at his side until my death. He was positively delighted I'd gained a little fire power, no pun intended. Starting asking why I hadn't trained the second we got to his bedroom."

Feyre turned back to the Illyrian behind her, waiting to hear his council on the matter. Scattered as her time with him may have been, she trusted him as much as Azriel and her sister spies. "I think Hybern is powerful, Feyre. I think you can do more in this war than report numbers and movements."

"You think I should let him make me that weapon."

He cocked his head. "I think that you're perfectly entitled to your hatred. But I think you owe Rhys the respect he's due as both High Lord and soldier. He's powerful, Feyre. He could teach you, if that's his goal. If he isn't going to kill you. Don’t be so proud you hurt yourself in the process."

“Cassian—”

“Training in your village would have been dangerous, yes. But now that you’re under Rhys’ protection it isn’t such a bad idea.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve seen fae stronger than you go insane, fighting their power. Thinking themselves noble for not utilizing it. Don’t make the same mistake. Trust Rhys with this much.”

~~~~~

AN: I think I tagged all of my Feysand people, but my phone was being a little finicky about tagging. Like I said, no laptop, so I’m sorry if I missed you.

Tag List: Reach out to be added or removed.

@goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @darling-archeron // @elentiya-whitethorn // @s-uppertime // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips //@jealousveronya //

[foxymacchiato]

Attack on Titan OC - Joanna Elytis🪻💪🧡

♡. ToyHou.se | Instagram | AO3

{CW: Brief mentions of homophobia, burn injuries, spoilers for Attack on Titan}

~

Name: Joanna Elytis

Meaning: Joanna- God is gracious; Elytis- Odysseus

Nickname(s): Jo (by her friends), Joker (by most of the veterans) 

Alias (if any): N/A

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Nationality: Eldian (Hebrew descent)

Birthday: December 10th, 832

Birthplace: Karanes District, Wall Rose

Current Residence: Scout Regiment Headquarters (location varies)

Sexual Orientation: Lesbian

Relationship Status: Taken, later married

Language(s) spoken: Eldian

Life-Long Dream: To marry the love of her life and have a family with her

Goal(s): To gain her mother’s respect, to make her family proud, to make Levi laugh, to bring Mel and Ymir back home safe

Like(s): Cooking, children, long strolls in the city, riding and grooming horses, coffee, making her friends laugh, arm-wrestling, messing with Levi, Bethany, big dogs, giving out nicknames for her friends

Dislike(s): Being woken up early, mornings, arrogant people, stupid drama, her mother, Minister Nick

Bad Habit(s): She tends to goof off a lot, she's very confrontational and tends to punch first and ask questions later, she talks back to authority and this has led to her getting in trouble by her superior officers, when she’s sad she buries her real feelings rather than open up about how she really feels and preferably hides behind humor, oversleeps

Hobbies: Cooking, fitness training, horseback riding, arm-wrestling

Fear(s): Abandonment, her friends splitting apart up, never getting her mother’s respect

Personality: Bubbly, confident, caring, helpful, humorous, loyal, dedicated, hard-headed 

Favorites(not necessary)-

Food(s): Peach cobbler, coffee, chocolate 

Color(s): Purple

Season(s): Summer

Activities: Cooking

Time of Day: Midday

Extras: Animals- Grizzly bears; Literature- Romance, nonfiction; Flower- Lilac

Appearance-

Height: 6'1” (186 cm)

Weight: 165 lbs. (75 kg)

Hair style: Long hair tied back into a ponytail, bangs on the left side of her face

Hair Color: Brunette

Eye Color: Chocolate brown 

Skin Tone: Olive

Body Shape/Build: Muscular, tall, full thighs, wide hips

Birthmarks: N/A 

Scar(s): N/A

Other: She has cute dimples 

Health-

Memory: Average. She's very observant and is great at remembering small details, which is useful when she’s out on expedition or even when it comes to their friends.

Sight (do you need glasses?): Normal

Mental: Anger issues, quick tempered

Physical: Fit, she loves exercising and making sure she keeps her body fit and muscular

Sleep patterns (how you sleep and how much rest do you get?): While she has a decent sleep schedule, she has a habit of oversleeping and is very cranky in the mornings. She needs to be forced out of bed and often times it became screaming matches between her and the commandant

Allergies/Other: N/A

Abilities/Statistics (1- lowly skilled, 10- highly skilled and tell why)-

3D Maneuvering Gear: 9/10 

Intelligence: 4/10

Martial Arts: 9.5/10

Battle Skill: 7/10

Agility: 7.5/10

Strategy: 5/10

Teamwork: 6.5/10 

Passion: 8.5/10

Affiliation: Scout Regiment

Former Affiliation: 103rd Cadet Corps 

Grad. Rank: 12th

Status (Alive, Missing, etc.): Deceased

Relationships-

Parent(s): Filip Elytis (father), Leah Elytis (mother)

Sibling(s): N/A

Other Relative(s): Diesel (pet dog), Bethany Sawyer (wife)

Love Interest: Bethany Sawyer

Best Friend(s): Taylor Schuyler, Melody Oglethorpe

Friend(s): Petra Ral, Nifa, Hange Zoë, Reiner Braun, Connie Springer, Sasha Blouse, Jean Kirsten, Eren Yeager

Enemy(ies): Reiner Braun, Bertholt Hoover

Hero(es): Hange Zoë

Rival(s): Levi Ackerman

Quote(s):

“None of the scouts are saints, I would know. But at least we weren’t cowards hiding behind the walls and lying to the people while you sit around on your asses as your same people are dying! We ventured out there because we know there is more out there than what’s here!”

“It's gotta really suck living a lie your whole life. That's just not me. I'm happy being who I am instead of trying so hard to please others.”

“Sorry! I told you I don't hold back!”

History/Life: Joanna Elytis is the daughter of retired Garrison soldier Filip Elytis and housewife Leah Elytis of Karanes District. She was a very energetic child with a friendly yet hot-headed personality and always put her friends’ needs over her own. Despite her friendly nature and her willingness to welcome others with open arms, throughout her childhood she was frequently harassed by the other children in her town because of her open attraction to girls rather than boys. Many of her friends turned against her, and even most adults saw her as a troublesome girl and kept their children from having anything to do with her. Fearing that someone would tell her family and what they might do, she worked up the courage to do something she was terrified to do, and decided to tell her family—to her surprise, Filip assured her that whoever she loved would not change the fact that he will always love her and she will be his daughter no matter what; Leah, on the other hand, was disgusted by the revelation and declared her as an embarrassment to their family. This put a lot of tension between Leah and Filip's marriage, and Joanna always thought she was to blame for it. This didn't stop the harassment amongst the children, either. Joanna tried to laugh it off at first as a means to not let it get her down, but when she was shamed by her own mother, it shattered her in a way that made her feel like she was worthless. Eventually she snapped, and decided that she wasn't going to be pushed around anymore. Her being much bigger for her age, she fought back and made sure anyone who dared mess with her would leave her alone for good.  

The only ones Joanna felt were truly there for her throughout her life was Filip—he always stood up for her when Leah tried to shame her, reminding her that she was still their daughter—and a street dancer and her eventual lover Bethany Sawyer. She always admired Bethany from afar, and they would end up meeting after Joanna left home after having a screaming match with Leah. The both of them immediately became close, and Joanna ended up staying out with her the whole night exploring the town and getting to know each other. It wouldn't be long after that night that a romantic relationship between them blossomed. It was then decided that Joanna would enlist in the military and prove to her mother that she was deserving of respect. Originally, she had intended to follow in her father’s footsteps in the Garrison Brigade, and she had plans to move her and Bethany into a small village where they would be married and have a family of their own. Although it was hard saying goodbye, Bethany supported Joanna’s choice to join the military as she wanted her to be happy, and promised her that she would wait for her. They would write letters every night to each other in the three years they were apart.

Of all the cadets in the 103rd Cadet Corps, Joanna was one of the few physically strongest recruits in her corps. Commandant Shadis saw potential in her strength, however what held her back were a number of factors: Her biggest weaknesses were her sleeping in during the wake-up calls and getting into screaming matches with higher ups when she was forced out of bed, and her having a tendency to joke around or talk back to her higher ups with an attitude, thus earning her the nickname "Joker." She got herself into trouble on multiple occasions. Joanna was often punished by being sent to kitchen duty, which wasn't really a negative for her as cooking was her passion, so Shadis had to think of other means as punishment such as loss of food privileges. She would mature in her three years of training and began to grow a bigger respect towards the authorities, especially to her commandant. 

Joanna settled with joining the scouts after she thought about how her life would be in the Garrison, and it wasn't until hearing about the fall of Shinganshina that she felt motivated to make more of an effort to help others. She enlisted into the Scout Regiment, and formed a close bond with many of the veterans, especially Hange Zoë, and became best friends with rookies Tay Schuyler and Mel Oglethorpe. Joanna formed so close of a bond with them that she considered them as sisters. When Mel is captured by the Armored Titan, Joanna blamed herself for not being able to turn back, and made a vow to help bring her home and take revenge on the traitors. Joanna was one of the many scouts arrested when the government began to turn against the scouts, and she was very vocal about the cruelty the MPs endured to them as Bethany protested for the scouts release. She was pardoned of her scout activities thanks to the new rightful queen of the walls. Realizing that she was just one step away from death's door, Joanna made the choice to marry Bethany and have a grand ceremony, two months prior to the mission to take back Wall Maria.

Joanna was killed in the recovery operation of Wall Maria after she sacrificed herself to save Tay from the Colossal Titan's intense heat. Her body was practically charred, and she was left buried under debris as she held on tight to her best friend.

Joanna had high hopes for her future. Even in her last moments in life, she believed that she lived. But she still would have one regret, and that would never fulfill her promise to come home to have a future with her dearest Bethany. She had hoped that her mother would be proud of the sacrifice she made. But later in life, she learned to accept that she was surrounded by others who cared about her the most, and it would be enough for her to live a happy life.

Bonus Facts

-Her voice: Japanese- Sayaka Kinoshita (Mirko, My Hero Academia); English- Amanda Céline Miller (Makoto Kino/Sailor Jupiter, Sailor Moon)

-Joanna loves to challenge her comrades to arm-wrestling challenges. Her favorite opponent was Reiner. The only one who's managed to beat her was Mikasa and Reiner (a few times).

-She is a Sagittarius.

-She has a jasmine scent.

-Her alignment is chaotic-good.

-Joanna is one of my first gay characters that I’ve ever created. I made her during a time I was figuring out my own identity (I’m a demi-sexual lesbian), and she means a lot to me in that regard. 

-The ship name between Joanna and Bethany is called AnnaBeth.

-In much older drafts, she was going to be paired with Tay and heavily hinted at having feelings for each other until she was killed off. I’ve since decided to change their relationship to have a more sisterly bond and give Joanna a partner of her own.

-Back in the day as a cadet, her comrades got really excited when she was on kitchen duty since she was one of the best cooks they’ve ever had, even with what she was limited with. Even Shadis took a liking to her food although he will not admit it out loud. In the scouts, she’s put in charge of kitchen duty and even works alongside Mel to come up with some new recipes for their comrades.

-The only ones she had not beat in arm-wrestling are Levi and Mikasa.

-One time when Oluo tried to wake her up for their next mission, without thinking she had punched him in the face and caused him to accidentally bite his tongue. She would say sorry to him at least once or twice a day, but since then it was Levi’s job to get her ass out of bed. 

-Filip taught her how to cook, and had she not joined the scouts, she would’ve worked in a restaurant in Karanes.

-In a modern AU, she would be working in a restaurant as a line cook. As stressful as the job could be, it is something she loves and is very passionate about even if it's not a fine-dining restaurant.

-Her spirit animal is a bear.

~

OC Profile Credit- AliceCantBeStopped; Divider- cinnamonghostcrunch

[anger-and-red-flames]

omw of analyzing the chapter "oh, to watch love bloom" from my fanfic Take your pretty smile, tell them everything's fine, (breaking all my bones to sharpen your knife) especially with a focus on the depiction of Jhin and Hwei's relationship and the question if Hwei is able to consent (he is not).

(cw, discussion of pseudoincest, abuse, grooming, child abuse, incest (brief yasuyone mention), child neglect, depiction of those topics... ehhh)

The chapter is (as attentive readers might know) the first time that Hwei and Jhin actually have sex, and in his "short" analysis I want to get especially into the question whether Hwei is able to consent - and point to the way I depicted the relationship between him and Jhin in this chapter specifically.

So the first thing I noticed during a reread is that Hwei imitates Jhin in his relationship with Kayn - just how Jhin postponed having sex with Hwei to give him the space to reconsider, Hwei gives Kayn the space to think the scythe branding through.

This, in combination with their later conversation about highlights the power and influence Jhin has on Hwei. He is in control of him on so many levels, controls how he spends his time, where he spends it, but also how he interacts in relationships.

And to be fair, teaching Hwei that its important to give people space before important decisions is a good value in of itself, but it's also creates nothing but a simulacrum of consent. Because while Jhin does give Hwei space to think it through, and Hwei gives Kayn space to consider his options, that doesn't negate the obvious power imbalance between Jhin and Hwei, and Hwei and Kayn

Can Hwei (/Kayn) consent when their life depend on the approval of Jhin (/Hwei)?

And that gets even clearer (in the first part) where Hwei says (about the scarifications he has gotten from Jhin): "I also had no say in the matter. And when I was offered a choice, I was already addicted to the pain."

This makes clear how much Jhin actually groomed him - because while Hwei now thinks that he makes choices, he has been taught very specific patterns of thinking and interacting with the world. Scarring Kayn and putting his mark on his skin is one of the only ways he can think of to show his love and dedication, just how Jhin taught him to think about relationships and love.

And thats where I think using Yone's POV really made sense, because Hwei and Kayn are incredibly unreliable narrators, and ofc so is Yone to a degree, but Yone is in a place to actually point out how young Hwei, and how gruesome and horrible everything is. And while he tries to push it aside, we still get the following line (which is me speaking through yone lol):

"(He) desperately tried to not think about what he had heard. Or about scars under his fingertips, hard ridges on velvety skin and on a boy that was barely of legal age."

I think it's really easy to forget how young Hwei and Kayn actually are, mostly because they view themselves with the typical teenage hubris, "we're basically adults", and because they had to learn how to fend for themselves and carry burdens too heavy for their actual age.

But Yone is in his early twenties, he has a little brother their age who he tries to protect and shield from the horrors, and I think the contrast between "Yasuo is a teenager, he should worry about school and computer games and I adore him and will protect him" and "Kayn wakes up from nightmares about SA and murder" and "Hwei carries scars cut into his skin by his fatherfigure when he was barely more than a child and never learned that he can love someone without hurting them" is staggering and hammers home just how cruel their world is.

But on the other hand Yasuo and Yone, victims of severe emotional neglect, envy the closeness between Jhin and Hwei, which reminds us how desperate children are for any kind of love and affection.

We know that Jhin is incredibly abusive, but when Yasuo says: “‘S so cool how close you are, don’t think my ma ever even hugged me.” it highlights that Hwei still gets something from Jhin that is so much more important to him than his physical and mental safety.

To Hwei Jhin is the only person who ever provided him with a sense of belonging, made him feel seen and loved and understood, he fulfills Hwei's physical and emotional needs, and that outweighs the damage he does to him otherwise. So Hwei romanticizes and justifies the abuse, because his literal life depends on pleasing Jhin.

And Jhin is by no means nothing but a horrible monster - ok, sure, he is an abusive, grooming serial killer, but I try to show that to Hwei he is much more than this, which is why the grooming works.

As an example a bit later Hwei asks Jhin if they can leave the breakfast table, and they retreat to Jhin's bedroom where he tells Hwei about their plans for the upcoming weeks, asks him how Kayn is doing with his nightmares (indicating that they regularly talk about everything that's going on in Hwei's life). Hwei also feels save enough to say that he wants to cuddle (articulating an emotional need), and later Jhin is giving him the space to sleep on his lap, which in my opinion is showing how deep their emotional relationship goes, and how much Hwei depends on Jhin in every area of his life.

The scene is wholesome and sweet, it's appears like a rather normal situation between family members, so when Hwei wakes up eye to eye with Jhin's (clothed) erection and we learn that Jhin has casually drawn porn of (17 yr old) Hwei it just hits so much harder. And in my opinion what's worse is that Hwei doesn't seem to mind, he is treating this as a normal occurrence, looks at the porn his father figure drew off him before initiating a blowjob.

And sure, Jhin apologises, but it seems to be more about the fact that Hwei knows and not about what he did. And when Jhin says "You don't have to", Hwei says "let me, please" and Jhin responds with “Of course, take whatever you want, my Rehlein.” it is again imitating consent, placing the responsibility on the shoulders of teenage Hwei instead of on the only adult in the room.

But with all we've seen throughout the entire chapter (and even more over the rest of the story) it's clear that Hwei is a child doing what he has to in order to survive and for his needs to be fulfilled. Jhin's love for him is tied to his body in various ways, to his skills and how well he can match his expectations. There is no unconditional love, and while that doesn't mean that Jhin is aware just how much he fucks Hwei up, it still leaves him a traumatized boy who never learned that he has intrinsic value.

As some of you know Hwei and Jhin had sexual interactions before this scene, but this is the first interaction between them which actually includes an orgasm.

I was very uncertain how I wanted to write their "first time", because I pride myself on writing their relationship as rather complex and I wanted this to be reflected in their sex as well. I especially didn't want to write it as nothing but porn - it would not have fitted with the tone of the fic, but also would've forced me to ignore some of the larger issues with their relationship.

So I settled for a chapter that's like 95% character exploration, plot and dialogue, and 5% smut. And while it's certainly not the hottest smut I ever wrote I think I prefer that over a chapter where the smut was more elaborate but undermined the complexity of their relationship. I really wanted to make sure that nobody comes away from this chapter with the wrong idea, Jhin might think that he is loving Hwei and that Hwei consents to everything sexual, but Hwei is in no place to do so.

The dynamic between them is based on an incredible power imbalance, a core aspect of (17 yr old) Hwei as a character is that he has no control over his life, that he is trapped in an invisible golden cage. He doesn't even know that there is a world beyond the gates, can not imagine a life where he has even a modest degree of autonomy.

And sure, he can chose if and how he wants to have sex with Kayn, Yasuo and Yone, but again, Jhin encouraged him to go out with Kayn, and Hwei still sought his approval before the foursome.

Aldo, on that note, do you remember the two times where Hwei went to Jhin with bitemarks that his boyfriend left on him simply to make sure that Jhin allowed someone else to mark his body 😭😭😭 and then worried that his literal adoptive father didn't love him anymore because Jhin didn't freak out (beyond carving fun little cuts into his breast the first time 😭😭😭)

[mugzymiik]

vent/rant

cw for mention of grooming + brief emetophobia

im going to fucking maul somebody i swear to GOD /neg. i shouldn't even be THINKING about going back to him, he fucking groomed somebody. sent a FUCKING 14 YEAR OLD shit that shouldn't EVER be sent to a 14 YEAR OLD, PERIOD. caused their mental health to deteriorate, my god there's so much. i feel like i'm going to fucking vomit.

i get so anxious even just THINKING about him. he knows EVERYTHING about me. my full name, my age, hell even my general living area. ive sent him my face once or twice. he could doxx me if he really wanted to.

he's used a different twitter account, hell possibly even MULTIPLE, to look at the posts of the person he GROOMED. HE REPLIED TO ONE OF MY TWITTER POSTS USING A FUCKING ALT ACCOUNT. IM TAKING A BIG FUCKING RISK EVEN POSTING THIS HERE. HE COULD SEE THIS. IM FUCKING TERRIFIED.

I FUCKING HATE HIM. WE WERE IN A CO-DEPENDENT RELATIONSHIP, I FELT PHYSICAL FEAR WHENEVER I EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT HIM AROUND THE END.

I SHOULDN'T BE THINKING ABOUT TRYING TO BE HIS FRIEND AGAIN, EVER. IM A CLINGY FUCKER. HE'S PROBABLY EXPECTING ME TO TRY TO COME BACK. I SHARED SO FUCKING MUCH WITH HIM IM FUCKING TERRIFIED.

IT WAS TO THE POINT WHERE I WAS SHAKING AND TRYING TO LEAVE EVERY SERVER I SHARED WITH HIM AND UNFRIEND ALL OF OUR MUTUAL FRIENDS AS FAST AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE WHEN I BLOCKED HIM. MY HEART WAS FUCKING RACING.

I HATE HIM. I FUCKING HATE HIM. I SAW HIM AS THE OLDER BROTHER I NEVER HAD.

[autisticempathydaemon]

Redacted-tober 2023 Day Eighteen

Prompt: Camelopardalis & Memory

Pairing: none

cw: memory modification, mentions of grooming and canonical Marcus shenanigans

Summary: What if Cam was daemon who modified Marcus’s memory after that infamous confrontation video?

Read on AO3 soon!

<- Previous Day | Next Day ->

Despite all the years he has lived, despite all the things he has seen, Elegy always manages to find a way to surprise Camelopardalis and put him in new situations.

“And he found out about the Meridian and Dahlia… how?” Cam asks quietly, warily, peering suspiciously down at the baby-faced man strapped to the chair. His cheeks are still ruddy and streaked with tears from the raucous sobbing that Cam had to put a stop to with a magically charged hand on top of his head.

“Marcus went into their hard drive and decrypted that data to check whether anyone of authority suspected him,” James responds in a calm, neutral tone that the serenity daemon can see right through to the restrained anger and disappointment and implications underneath.

“Your technician not only groomed a person under your care but forcefully invaded their subconscious to cover his tracks,” Cam translates, marginally satisfied when he tastes a hint of sour shame from the telepath. “We’re doing a memory modification today? It will be impossible for the Department to prosecute.”

“That is the course of action the Asset decided. They want a clean cut and blank slate, so to speak,” James says, and Cam sighs. From the cold, austere misery of this place, the briefing he’d received, and the rank flavor of desperation and remorseless greed he’d tasted from the sleeping man, Cam knew he’d end the day with an empty stomach and a new, sad story to tell his therapist.

[chiefyakousdilftits]

PLEAAASE share about your raincode oc!! the design is so cute id love to know more on em and yakou

AAAAAH, THIS IS SUCH A SWEET ASK, YOU HAVE ME OUT HERE LIKE

ANYWAYS !! OC Talk under the cut !! 💕 ( CW ; Brief Mentions Of Child Ab*se And Gr**ming, Spoilers For Rain Code, Anxiety Mentions, Large But Legal Age Gaps !! )

So this is my babygirl, Yui Velveteen ( 21, she / her, cisfemale, panromantic, pansexual ). She’s a Master Detective with the Forte of Empathetic Touch ; the way her forte works is that she can feel exactly how a person feels simply by touching them, though this doesn’t mean that she can read minds, just experience the emotion, and her limit is that she can only feel so many emotions or so much of one emotion before she feels overstimulated and verging meltdown / burnout.

If any of you guys are neurospicy or familiar with neurodivergent terms, you’ll notice I said “overstimulated” and “meltdown”, and that is because Yui is autistic, as well as having a rather traumatic childhood ( emotionally absent father, abusive in all sorts of ways mother, groomed by a superior when she was a detective in training ), paired with severe anxiety ( specifically GAD, Social Anxiety, and Panic Disorder ).

She’s from a small farm town, called Ninjin Meadows, where she lives in a small cottage with a lot of pet rabbits, and is very close with her cousin who acts as an older sister to her, Gina Neuroprism, another Master Detective, who helped Yui get in with the WDO. Kanai Ward is Yui’s first big case, outside of finding lost pets or stolen pies, so she was quite excited to be dispatched to Kanai Ward, even though she knew it could be pretty dangerous.

Danger snuck up on her fast, however, since she was the only survivor on her train to Kanai Ward. She managed to escape by a hair, hiding behind the train while the peacekeepers swarmed. Poor girl has the Freeze Response to trauma and stressful events, but luckily, Yakou came just in time to whisk her out of there before she was caught by the peacekeepers.

Yakou was quite possibly the first person she wasn’t related to that showed her honest kindness and human decency, and being rather . . . naive to the world in the romance aspect, she does fall rather quickly, though he doesn’t really return her feelings ( those who have played Chapter Four absolutely understand why ) at least to an extreme extent, but given that Yui is rarely off on her own cases, since her forte is much better at the interrogation aspect of a case rather than the cool fieldwork. They spend a lot of time together and it’s shown that they really care about eachother. He understands her limitations and wanted to have her around due to the fact she’s good at the interrogation aspect of cases, though, given that Yuma and Shinigami reap the souls of the culprits, it’s hard for her to use her forte, leading to her and a few other detectives believing she’s useless to the Kanai Ward case.

She really proves useful in Chapter Two, where she helps Yuma and Desuhiko infiltrate Kurumi’s academy, Yui chatting backstage with Yoshiko, Waruna, and Kurane about Aiko, trying to experience the emotions and hypothesize about potential reasons they may feel the way they do during the case, and enters the Mystery Labyrinth with Yuma and Desuhiko. Shinigami’s abrasiveness is enough to make her cry though, and Desuhiko’s remarks do stress her out quite a bit, so she’s shown to know quite a few grounding techniques to try and keep her calm, and Yuma is pretty understanding of her as well, despite her being his superior.

Halara is the detective that Yui butts heads with the most, because of their opposing work views, though it is mainly work technique they disagree on, and not a deep rooted hatred of eachother. Y’know, like they’re work rivals ?

She’s the agency’s mom friend, because she truly enjoys caring for others, she’s constantly bringing by baked goods she makes from scratch and making sure they eat something that isn’t a meat bun every once in awhile ( on top of that, she’s a vegetarian, because she could not imagine harming animals, since she grew up in a farm town and knows what goes into butchering and meat consumption ).

She and Yakou are similar in quite a few ways, homebodies that are conflict avoidant, but most of their romance struggles come from his past trauma and their age gap, for awhile, he doesn’t view Yui as someone he’d even consider a romantic partner, and it comes up that their age gap is definitely noticeable, in some of their conversations, that he still views her as very kind hearted and loving, but like still a girl. Though given the amount of time they spend together and how warm and caring Yui is, it’s inevitable that he develops ✨ feelings ✨, and he knows he does too, however, he never gives himself the opportunity to act upon them, given that he’s her superior, and the age gap is there. He knows that him changing his mind about her could mess with her head, and he cares about her, so being in a romantic relationship within the canon timeline, it’s not in the cards, no matter how badly she wants it to be. They’re a “ What Could Have Been “ type of a relationship, a poorly timed relationship.

( CHAPTER FOUR SPOILERS AHEAD )

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Anyways, Yui comforting Yakou in his last moments and he pulls her in close to tell her “ I loved you too “. I’m going to v*mit.