#he implies when you first meet that he knows of you and your past exploits. he knows of the chosen and how they stole the crown

[thecityofdoors]

if raphael had the sense to offer me Emperor Gossip Hour whenever i wanted then maybe i would have taken his deal

[kestisvrse]

bad for business

pairing ⋆ anthony lockwood x gn!reader. fluff with a bit of angst. fake dating.

synopsis ⋆ the three times you found yourself fake dating anthony lockwood.

warnings ⋆ swearing, reader is implied to be shorter than lockwood, being followed, kissing (written by someone without their first kiss send help). | wc: 1.4k

♫ - bad for business by sabrina carpenter

1. a walk home

“ladies first.” you snort at lockwoods comment as he holds the door for you to exit arif’s, a box of donuts secured in your hands.

“wow what a gentleman.” you joke making lockwood laugh a little as you begin your walk towards home, a comfortable silence falling between you two, a minute or so passes.

“someone’s following us.” lockwood says nonchalantly, you furrow your eyebrows looking at him, “he was standing outside arif’s when we went in, he was staring at you the whole time and now he is getting closer.” lockwood says looking over his shoulder, shuffling slightly closer towards you.

“well what do we do?” you ask slightly panicked.

“hold my hand.”

“i’m sorry?” you say, he failed to answer as he grabs the box of donuts out of your hands, using his free hand to intertwine your fingers.

“just trust me okay? maybe if he thinks we are together he will leave us alone.” lockwood clarified.

“o-okay, i guess” you mutter, a light blush painting your cheeks at the feeling of his thumb lightly rubbing your hand.

you were nearing portland row, you and lockwood standing closer together, you freeze up as he places a kiss on the top of your head to nonchalantly glance behind you two, “i see him, he is walking away. just… keeping holding on until we get home… just incase.” you nod, silently agreeing with him.

he didn’t let go of your hand until he placed the box of donuts on the kitchen table.

2. too close for comfort

lockwood had convinced you, lucy and george to go to this ‘ball’, you honestly didn’t know what to call it. it was a fancy building filled with agents dressed up and the adults that exploit their talents for money, celebrating nothing in particular and somehow, lockwood and co. got invites.

lockwood looked like he was at home, while george uncomfortably tugged at the collar of his button up and wandered off with lucy, leaving you and lockwood, standing in the middle of the ballroom.

“why are we here, lockwood?” you pried.

“why not? every agent in london is here.” he responds.

“that doesn’t mean we have to be.” you shot back, annoyed by a man who pushed past you, causing you to knock shoulders with anthony.

“it’s a good opportunity, to meet new people and get our name out there.”

“with our competition? yeah alright. i need something to drink.” you wandered off.

some time had passed, it included you leaning against the wall observing everyone that passed by, you had found george and lucy at one point where george had gave up and went home while lucy decided to investigate around for god knows what. you decided it was time to find lockwood again.

wandering around aimlessly you spotted him in the sea of tuxes, talking to a blonde girl, in a blue 90s like prom dress, inching closer and closer to lockwood.

you rolled your eyes at the sight, lockwoods charming smile seemingly working again, but it didn’t look like he used it on purpose this time.

“there you are, i’ve been looking for you everywhere!” you smoothly entered the conversation, linking your arm with his and his whole face seemed to light up.

“oh.” the blonde commented, squinting her eyes, “who’s this?”

“i’m-“ he cut you off, taking the lead.

“this is my partner.” lockwood replied, you smiled at the girl as she realized she misread the situation, quickly saying goodbyes and walking off.

“i couldn’t tell if you needed saving or not.” you explained, a hidden apology heard beneath your words just incase he was enjoying the girls company.

“no i did, thank you.” he said, making eye contact, “maybe we should head home now?”

“let’s find lucy first.” you suggested, and he sent you a grin.

that damn grin.

3. distraction

you had warned him.

you had told him there had to be a better way to get information that didn’t involve breaking and entering. but as per usual he used his charisma and webbed you into the whole plan.

and now, you two were running down alleyways, after being caught. ‘i told you so’ repeating over and over again in your head as you focused on running, and of course you reached another problem.

“shit!” you whispered, lockwood dragging you back behind a wall, your only escape had multiple body guards roaming the area.

“how the hell did they even get there.” lockwood said to himself.

“what do we do?? there are two other body guards about to block off the way we came from!” you panted out, catching your breath from running.

“i have a crazy idea.” lockwood made eye contact with you, he seemed nervous as he ran his hand through his hair.

“all your ideas are crazy, anthony.” you countered.

“just listen okay?” he whispers, you slowly nod, “if we can make it seem like, we have no idea what’s going on around us and that we accidentally stumbled up here maybe they won’t think it’s us.” you gave him a blank stare.

“what are you even suggesting right now lockwood?!” you grumbled, faintly you heard footsteps approaching.

“we do not have time for this, do you trust me?”

“do i have a choice?” you quipped, but suddenly the conversation was over as he cupped your cheeks and suddenly his lips were on yours. you froze up, you expected his plan to be anything but this, but then you heard the footsteps turn the corner and you needed to act just like him, quickly kissing back.

his lips were chapped, rough against your soft ones. as you brought your hands up to his face, his hands moved down to your waist, pulling you closer. it felt eager, like you had been waiting to do this forever, and it felt right.

“HEY!” you two snapped apart from the loud yell, breathless as you stare at the taller man infront of you “this is private property, you kids can’t be here.” his tone was threatening, making you tense up.

“we are so sorry sir.” you replied sweetly, “we didn’t know, we will leave right away!” you grab lockwood’s hand and hurried towards the exit before the man could question you anymore.

you held hands all the way home, but didn’t mutter a word to each other.

4. overdue confession

it had been around a week since lockwood had kissed you. you hadn’t spoken. the house having an awkward atmosphere as you avoided lockwood like the plague.

you couldn’t avoid the knock on your door, unfortunately.

“come in.” you called out from your spot on the bed, expecting lucy to walk in but were met with lockwood.

he was wearing his usual suit but he looked disheveled, his tie loose, his hair slightly messy and he looked so tired, even more tired than usual, he was a mess.

“hey.” he spoke just above a whisper, scared any louder you would run away from him again.

“oh. hi.” you sat up in your bed, suddenly looking anywhere but him, fiddling with your hands.

“i want to apologize, i shouldn’t have kissed yo-“ he began.

“we wouldn’t have gotten out of there if you hadn’t, it’s okay.” you stated, sniffling slightly. your bed dipped as he sat down.

“then why won’t you talk to me?” you looked up to his eyes, “please talk to me.” he begged, you looked into each others eyes for a moment.

“i was avoiding you because of the fact that i.. i didn’t want the kiss to end.” you confessed, “i like you, lockwood, and i didn’t want to ruin anything so i thought avoiding you would be better..” you trailed off, the air was tense as he stared at you.

“oh thank god.” he laughed out.

“what?” your anxiety kicked in, as you stared at him.

“i was scared to confess, i’m glad you did first.” your eyebrows furrow at his response, “i really like you, i have since i met you. i didn’t want the kiss to end either.”

your eyes widened slightly, studying his voice for any sound of sarcasm.

“can i kiss you again?” he whispered, scared of your rejection, you just slowly nodded looking down at his lips, he lent in.

his lips weren’t chapped this time, they were soft and you took notice of just how well they fit against yours. this kiss was softer than the first, it washed your anxiety away, and the tense air disappeared. he pulled away and laid his forehead against yours.

“i thought i was being dreadfully obvious about my feelings.”

“you were not.” you laughed at him

“oh no i was, you are just oblivious.” he responded

“shut up.” you said, and he did as his lips met yours yet again.

[sionisjaune]

George/Alex sex shop meet cute, ft. George's questionable customer service skills and unquestionable knowledge of inventory:

Alex finds himself in the sex shop because he has decided, after great deliberation, to face up to the fact that he is a bisexual man, and his occasional hookups require more equipment than he has in his flat. 

He tugs open the door which boasts a cheery little welcome sign that is quite possibly adorned with an anthropomorphized, ejaculating penis, and tries not to flinch when his eyes meet row upon row of phallic objects in glossy packaging. The bell on the door jingles as it swings shut, and Alex crams his hands in his pockets, surveying the aisles. 

Choosing to get the job done quickly, Alex rocks up to the first aisle and strolls past the shelves decisively. He chooses a dildo at random and pulls the box off the rack to examine it. The packaging reads EXTRA LARGE HOG in graffiti letters with a grinning devil waving a pitchfork underneath the logo. The dildo itself is grossly fleshy in a shade that would imply that the phallus’s owner (if it had one) was suffering from jaundice. 

Alex flings the dildo back on the rack, repulsed. God, maybe his own cock will have to do. He doesn’t know if he has the stomach to stay in the shop for long enough to make a purchase.

He’ll call Lily, he considers, backing away from the shelves. He’ll ask her where she bought her cute little rose thing and then order online with a hand covering his face, peeking through the cracks between his fingers. People have told him he’s good in bed, right? He wouldn’t get any less ass if his nightstand drawer remained empty of dildos and cock rings and butt plugs and whatever other horrifying—

While Alex spirals about the state of his sex life, someone down the aisle coughs. 

Alex’s heart skips a beat, and he nearly springs backwards, his trainers squeaking on the floor while he regains his balance. 

“You really shouldn’t buy that one,” says a pale, pinched, and actually rather fit employee standing two metres away from Alex. His hair is floppy and a rather ordinary brown, and his collared shirt is buttoned to the throat. His name tag reads George. 

“Beg your pardon?” says Alex, and nearly chokes swallowing his own saliva. 

“I said you really shouldn’t buy that one,” says George, sweeping a hand through his hair and frowning. “If you’re shopping for a missus, studies have shown that thermoplastic elastomers can disrupt reproductive health.”

“Missus,” says Alex, rolling the word over on his tongue. “Thermoplastic elastomer.” 

George blinks owlishly. “Yes. And if you’re shopping for a mister, TPE is porous, so it’s very difficult to properly sanitize,” he explains.

Alex shakes his head. He glances at the wall of dildos in their gaudy packaging and then back at George. His lanyard seems to be patterned with the same little walking, grinning pensises that the welcome sign bore. 

“What’s TPE?” says Alex, for lack of anything better to do with his mouth.

“Thermoplastic elastomers,” says George. “I just said.” 

“And those are?” says Alex. 

George runs a hand through his hair again and sucks in a breath. He steps towards Alex—which causes shivers to course down Alex’s spine, for some reason—and points towards the EXTRA LARGE HOG box. 

“Look,” he says, pointing to the corner of the box which bears writing so small Alex can barely read it. “TPE. Not body-safe.” 

“So,” says Alex, information whirling in his head. The fluorescent lighting is giving him a headache. The glare glancing off all the clear plastic packaging gives the sex shop a dream-like quality, like any second Alex will wake up erect and sweating through his covers. “So, why would it be on sale if it’s… not body-safe?”

“You see,” says George, his eyes lighting up. “Since sexual enhancers are classified as novelty items rather than therapeutic medical devices, manufacturers are able to exploit a gaping loophole and produce products for cheap using unsafe materials. For example, our top-selling Starbright Bangers—” George gestures to a display of pale, jellylike dildos of increasing length and girth. “—contain phthalates which have been shown in male animals to precipitate a greater risk of malformed penises, and—” George’s jaw snaps shut. 

Alex inhales, his hands balled in his pockets, staring straight into George’s giant eyes. “You can keep going,” says Alex. 

“No, I—” says George. “No. I’m done.” 

“So,” says Alex. He pulls his fists from his pockets and forces his hands to hang limply at his sides. “So I’m looking for a dildo.” 

“Ah,” says George, blinking again. “What kind of dildo?” 

Alex swallows. “Any kind? I’m not exactly an… experienced buyer?” 

“Okay,” says George, tilting his head back and forth. “Alright. Do you know what you like?” 

“It’s not for me,” says Alex, quickly. “It’s just that I want to… spice things up, in the bedroom.” 

“Ah,” says George, again. “So we’re looking for something versatile.” He spins to face the aisle, scanning the wall of dildos. He glances towards Alex, his dark brows furrowing. He really is rather pretty, Alex thinks. Pretty in that prim, poncy way that boarding school fantasies are supposed to be. Not that Alex has ever had any of those. 

“You never did tell me whether you’re looking for a missus or mister,” says George. 

“Either. Both,” says Alex, throat dry. 

George hums, tapping his foot. He squats to the floor, tugging a box off the lowest shelf. “Try this,” he says, handing it up to Alex. 

Alex turns the box around and squints at it meaningfully. The packaging is rather nondescript, offering a photo of the product (slim, blue, rechargeable) and the product name (SKINNY SATISFIER). 

“Great,” says Alex, pinning it under his arm. “Perfect. I’ll get this. Thanks for your help.”

George unfolds from his squat, rising to a height that’s maybe just a millimetre shorter than Alex. “You don’t want anything else?” says George, making his big owl eyes again. 

“I’ll just be on my way,” says Alex, stuffing his hands in his pockets again. “Thanks a bunch.” 

George’s mouth opens and then closes, a bit like a fish. Then it opens again. “You should probably get an anal plug,” says George. “Very popular. And you can get them without rhinestones on the bottom, if you're worried. We have all sorts. Hold on a second.” 

George dashes down the aisle while Alex remains frozen, dildo under his arm. When George returns, he’s carrying an armful of boxes. “Here,” he says. “Pick the one you like.” 

Alex eyes the mountain of boxes and the product images he can see. Some of them are rather feminine. He supposes he could use them on a girl. Or on a boy of a particular persuasion.

“They’re all… body-safe?” says Alex. 

George rolls his eyes. “Stainless steel. So, obviously.” He makes meaningful eyes at the heap of boxes in his arms. 

“Great,” says Alex, plucking one at random off the top. 

George lets out a breath and dumps the remainder on a shelf strewn with bottles of novelty lube. “I can ring you up over there, if you like.” 

“Oookay,” says Alex, fisting his dildo in one hand and his butt plug in the other. He follows George up to the cash where a scary-looking girl with teased hair and a lip piercing is ringing up a complicated leather harness. 

“Here you go,” says George, when he’s finished scanning Alex’s items and has presented Alex with a (thank God) plain paper shopping bag to carry them in. George plunges his hand into a jar beside the register, pulls out a handful of foil packets and drops them in Alex’s bag. “Every customer gets a free scoop of lemon sherbet flavoured prophylactics with a purchase of thirty pounds or more,” George explains. 

“Brilliant,” says Alex, wondering when he’ll wake up. 

George waves, his lanyard swinging against his shirt. “Shop again soon!” 

[eydi-andrius]

Corporate Hell (Vox X Reader)

Synopsis: You met your old boss in hell.

Warnings: 🚨 18+ 🚨 If you're a minor, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT! Non-Con, drugs, cursing, implied murder, nudity, mentions of polyamory relationship, uploaded right after I finished writing, and probably more.

a/n: Vox has been on my mind lately. This is probably not good but I have to get him off my mind. The brainrot I had for this capitalist, sadistic, bottom, sub, bi, television set augh!

💼

When you woke up and realized you're in hell, you kind of accepted it right away.

Yes, in your past life, you were just working for someone and it wasn't really your fault the exploitation of the workers happened.

However, being a bystander and complacent to his demands without doing anything is a different side of the same coin kind of evil.

You did try, you know.

To change your fate.

Do the most illegal shit to survive.

It was fun..

At first….

Until it wasn't.

Maybe being in the corporate for years, fucked you up so much that at this moment you wished you’re just working a normal office job.

You thought that it was better than being on the street 24/7. Barely sleeping because you're afraid to wake up surrounded by actual evil denizens, or else, dead again.

So with that decision in mind, you applied as an assistant in VoxTex Enterprises since this work was closer and almost the same as your old job.

A good coincidence if you’ve asked.

Weird. But a good coincidence is a good one, so even if it was kind of sus, you shrugged it off and applied.

You’re not even fully out of the building, when someone comes out rushing, and calling your name, yelling you're hired.

You were delighted and thanked him profusely, but then, you swear you’ve heard someone yelling from the top floor and fell to death just now.

Well, just like you always do, you shrugged it off.

It was a normal day in hell, so it wasn't that big of a deal.

With that in mind, you hoppingly went home.

Finally! A job you're comfortable doing.

💼

On your first day, you met Papermint, the big boss’s secretary.

You were confused at first because you thought you applied for a simple assistant job. Not wanting the same mistake you did when you were still alive. Working as a secretary of a tyrant and exploiter businessman.

Yet, like always, you shrugged it off, since your work is merely the president’s secretary assistant, so it's not that bad.

And if you're lucky, and the owner is a prick, you won't see him often.

Most rich people look down on the poor, anyway.

So silently you prayed that he was the same type, who only wants to meet his secretary and no one else.

💼

There are moments in your life wherein you wish the floor opens up and swallows you whole.

At the moment, you wished that a miracle happened and the floor did just that.

It seems like your luck must have run out since you came from hell because right now, in front of you, was your old boss, who died from a freak accident when a jumbotron fell on him while he was hosting an event.

Fuck.

His look may have been different but the vibe and aura was still the same old him. Sporting an LED screen as a head this time, but still wearing the same pattern of tux and same exploiter grin he had when he was still alive.

“Don't you think it must have been fate? Imagine that there's a lot of rings in hell you can be thrown into but somehow you fell in the same place I was put in.” He grinned, elbows placed atop of his table, hands intertwined together, as his head rested above it.

He looks happy, glad even, that he was able to meet someone he knows. His old secretary nonetheless. How lucky an old boss could be.

The urge to punch him straight on his screened face was strong but you were able to put up that “always professional” smile.

“A good coincidence, I may say.” You agreed, although, in gritted teeth.

It was obvious that he sensed your dissatisfaction in your situation and you watched him guffaw at your probably constipated look.

Papermint looked between you and Vox, but mostly at you, confused and kind of scared. And you don't blame him.

You made a mental note to clear up the misunderstanding and to assure him that you don't plan on taking away his job later. He can marry his position and you care less about it.

You just needed a safe job.

Now, you realized why the offer seems too good to be true. A free apartment, a good bonus, even better than what you have when you're alive.

For the first time in your life, you prayed, but it was filled with curses so you're not sure if heaven approved of it.

💼

You were convinced that Vox made sure to make Papermint so busy that he had no choice but to force you to stand in for him.

The way he looks so dissatisfied whenever his secretary came back done and perfected whatever he asked. He was so mad that he ordered the poor secretary to monitor a new technology that wasn't even thought about yet. Announcing it live on television even. You swore you heard him crying before the door from his office was closed.

The event he wants you to attend with him is Val’s new bar opening. This guy knows you don't drink. He must have had something in mind to force you to come in with him.

At this point, you’re already aware of his relationship with Valentino and Velvette. They're in polyamory relationships, in both personal and in business.

You just rolled your eyes at it. Knowing him in real life, you're not that surprised. The only reason why he was stopping himself to do it in the mortal realm was his fear of ruining his image. Being gay and in a relationship with more than one partner was frowned upon, no matter how powerful you were. So him living his dream here in hell, is probably a dream come true.

Standing in the corner, you looked around and watched the bunch of people doing the most heinous and lustful act that will get you canceled. If you can gouge your eyes out and put holy water on it, you would have done it. Just to clean them and at least, keep the little innocence you still have.

As if sensing eyes boring on you, you looked for it and on your right, you stared at Vox and Valentino, who were both staring at you. Val was whispering something in Vox’s ear. A mischievous grin was plastered on his face, and your boss nodded in whatever that was. Val then picked up a glass of, probably alcohol with pink hue and glittery swirls, and handed it to Vox.

Vox, whose eyes were already on you, nodded, a silent order for you to come closer.

With a deep sigh, you trudged your way towards him. If you have a choice, you’ll be out of this place. This wasn't your scene and you thought, Vox feels the same too. Yes, he drinks often but you were sure that he barely visits bars, unless Val was there, or he misses Val’s touch.

You stepped back when Vox handed you the glass, with the weird looking alcohol inside. You grimaced at it, now that it was closer for you to see, it looks so suspicious.

“I’m sorry, I don't drink.” Gulping, you denied the offer. You said to yourself that you’ll deal with the consequences of your denial after.

Sensing Vox moving closer to you, you flinched and closed your eyes, waiting for a slap or a punch from denying him. However, instead, you felt his hot breath on your ear as he whispered, the smell of bourbon and his perfume mixed with the sickly sweet smell in the air.

“I know you don't but Val wants you too. I don't want to handle one of his tantrums right now. I had a long day, so please, just drink this. Just a glass to keep him satisfied. He doesn't like seeing someone sober in his bar. A bad reputation for him.” He begged, although on gritted teeth.

Unsure, you looked behind him, and even when his eyes were covered by sunglasses, you squeaked in the mixture of surprise and fear when you caught Val looking at you. He is expecting you to drink whatever he gave Vox and he obviously is not expecting you to say no.

Damn...for once..you kind of agree with Vox. No one wants to deal with Val’s tantrums. It was way worse than Vox’s and Velvette. At least those two were reasonable. Val is just evil. Period.

With no choice left, you pick up the glass out of Vox’s hand, raise it for Val to see and mouthed congratulations, before drinking it straight up, no stopping.

Whatever that drink was, it was weird. It has no taste but it feels awfully cold as it goes down your throat, then, once it settles down in your stomach, it turns warm, almost bothersome. Slowly, you felt something slithering in your veins. It was so subtle, but for someone who's already tuned in to whatever was in their body, you felt the way it moved.

Valentino’s grin only widens, before he turns his attention back to the harem he has on his shoulders and lap. Completely ignoring your descent to madness in whatever you drank just now.

Feeling unwell, you excused yourself and rushed to the nearby restroom.

When you got in there, the line was so long, some girls and ladies were even standing in line. And you felt bad asking to use the room first, you’d rather vomit and ruin on the marble floor.

Your mind is already on haywire, scared that you’ll do something you will regret when you realize that you have in your purse Vox’s VIP room’s keycard in this bar. He wouldn't mind if you use his restroom for a bit right?

With no choice left, and with dwindling dignity about your situation, you rushed over to where his room was. You don't even remember how you got in there, but you collapsed on the tiled floor, and vomited everything you had that day.

Face covering the whole toilet seat, you clutched the rim for support.

It was odd.

No matter how much you puke, it seems like the heat coursing inside you worsens. In fact, when you vomited, the heat in your stomach tightened its hold on you.

It feels like whatever you digested was heightened when removed from someone’s system.

You were sweating. Eyes unfocused as you drink the water from the faucet. Not caring if it was clean or whatever. You just want the heat inside you gone. It is uncomfortable, borderline painful.

Looking at your reflection in the mirror and seeing your disheveled appearance, you concluded that Valentino drugged you.

That piece of shit!

You screamed bloody murder as you released the frustration. Normally, you can handle it, and forget it right after work, but with your situation, you could barely think.

You wanted to hurt someone. Punch somebody. Bite a person’s limb. God! Whatever you could do to feel better.

Removing your pumps from your feet, unbuttoning your shirt, zipping out your skirt and throwing them all on the side. You sighed a bit in relief when you’re all in your underwear. The heavy feeling of your corporate attire removed from your being.

Looking around, you find the room’s shower, and it was one of those rich people showers, where the water comes from all sides. Thinking it would be a good idea to get rid of this heat permanently by having a cold shower, you stepped in, removed your remaining clothing, and completely forgot that this wasn't your room.

You sighed with relief when the cold water cascaded all over your body. It was so welcoming and it helps with clearing up the fog in your mind that came from whatever drug Val put in your drink.

You thought the hell was already over until you felt warmth pooling in your core. Your middle vibrates with want and need.

Of course. He will not drug you with just any normal drugs. With his history, using a love drug is probably common. You screamed in annoyance and thanked the cascading water for drowning the sound of your pain. The more you try to not focus on the feeling, the more it tugs in your middle, and you want nothing but to end it.

You already weighed your option. It is most unlikely that Vox will stay here tonight. He seems busy with his networking with some rich folks and you probably don't need a lot of time to get off. Just a bit of time to release the knot and feel better.

You slowly put your hand on your center, and shuddered at the feel of your fingers when it brushed your clit. It was already engorged and sensitive. Whatever that substance, it was potent and strong. The result was fast and effective.

Using your left arm, you bite your hand, trying to stop your moans, as you slowly play with your folds, circling on your bud, making sure your fingers are wet enough before putting them inside of you. You shuddered when you felt your core, squeezing your fore and middle finger as you slowly pumped it, in and out of you.

You sighed in relief when it reached the part you’re most sensitive and responsive to.

A moaning mess, you closed your eyes from the heavenly feeling, you made sure to pump your fingers faster, hitting your g-spot repeatedly, and barely keeping it in as your legs shake from want and anticipation of your impending orgasm.

It was all fun until you heard a static voice, moaning, and ordering you to move your fingers faster. Calling you a good girl. And almost like a whisper begging you to bend more so he can see you clearer.

You may be horny but whatever that was made you stop, and you immediately whip your head back from the direction of that voice, and from what you’ve seen, all color left your body.

The whole room is transparent. In fact, the walls were made of clear glass. You have sworn that when you entered, it didn't look this way.

Panic sinked in, you instantly cover your boobs, using both of your arms. Leaving your core, free, and all for him to see.

You heard him tsk in annoyance. He grunted in disapproval and removed his hand from stroking his dick. He is naked, all of his clothes were thrown to the side. He was sitting on his bed, and a remote was near his hand.

You concluded that whatever happened to you must have been a set up.

“You monster!” You yelled and accused him, you tried to step back and move away from his eyes, but you just watched him follow your movement and smile whenever your boobs jiggle when you move.

What a fucking pervert!

“You set me up!” You tried to look around but there is no towel in sight to cover yourself. It was as if the place was barren. So you sat down, and you saw how his face turned crestfallen when he was denied a free view of your pussy.

“You fucking psycho! What do you think you're doing to your own employee, you sick fuck!” You continued yelling profanities at him and you just watched him sniff in disapproval, and shake his head.

“I did not. In fact, I didn't know that whatever Val gave you was laced in drugs.” He came clean, raising his hands in surrender.

Although, you don't want to agree with him. Vox is not the type to use drugs as underhanded tactics. He loves his reputation way too much to be doing something so low. It must have been Val.

“He must have been jealous of you.” He admitted after some thought, and you shuddered in fear when you realized how scary being the subject of Val’s ire.

“I am only your secretary’s assistant!”

“Doesn’t matter. Once he sets his eye on you, he will do something about you.” He looked bored as he put his hands on the side, and relaxed a bit. His upright dick wobbled at the slight movement of him, the tip was still red and swollen from not having its release.

You didn't realize that your eyes were glued on it, until you heard Vox chuckling in amusement, and your eyes instantly went back up to his.

“What exactly did I do to get his attention?” You asked, confused and scared.

“I’m not sure. He isn't the pickiest demon I know, you know.” He replied with a purr. You don't even have to look down to see that his hand already went back on stroking his dick. Your blatant stare turned him on again.

“Come on, sweetheart! Let me help you out.” The moment he stood up, even though you're sitting on the tiled floor, you did your best to move back away, without losing sight of him.

He is grinning. And you know well enough that he enjoys whatever it was you're doing to keep him away from you.

The moment he was in front of the glass door of the shower, you stood up and boxed up. You don't care anymore if your boobs are hanging out. Your swollen folds cold from the air.

No. Actually, it wasn't. The feeling of painful heat was back again, and your core involuntarily squeezed nothing from anticipation.

Seeing the naked Vox in front of you, the feeling worsens, as if it is clawing out of you to be released.

“Knowing Val’s moods. He probably gave you something strong.” He explained.

“Let me eat you out.” He followed, looking like he was salivating.

“Are you insane? Did having that LED screen head make you stupid? No! I will not have sex with you.” Trying your best to insult him away, you cursed at him, yelled at him, even spit at his feet. But all his focus was only on you. Like a predator, already locked in on his prey.

You tried to fight it, you really do, but when you felt something dripping down your legs, wetness was visible in your core. You know you already lost.

You didn't even fight back, when Vox stepped forward, and cupped your breasts. His hand is molding in the shape of your mound, as he massages and plays with your nipples. He tugged at it, and he shuddered at the sound of your moan.

He is enjoying it, and you can feel how his manhood is poking on your hips.

“Alright, sweetheart. This is what’s going to happen.” He suddenly let go of your breast, his hand cupped your face and forced you to look up at him. You felt your eyes water, and at this point, the fog in your head is back. Your mind is blank, body working on instinct.

“I will eat you out, fuck whatever drugs was in your system, and you’ll stay quiet about this incident, okay?” Your body seems to be moving on autopilot as you nodded, not really understanding what he said. Realizing that you're already lost in the sedative in your system, Vox cursed at Val for whatever he did tonight.

You let Vox carry you like a princess to the bed, you even circled your hands around his, looking at him like he is the most wonderful thing you ever saw in hell. You stretch the moment your back hits the satin sheet and relinquish the cold feeling of the fabric on your skin.

Not giving you time to move away, Vox set himself between your legs, head already in your core and mouthing your folds like it was his.

Your moan echoed in the room. You shivered at the feel of his mouth, and cried when his tongue finally graced your walls. It was long, and weird. You know he is a demon, but having this tongue on you right now is the evilest thing he ever did in his time in hell.

His grip on your leg tightened, when he felt you shimmying away from his face. You felt the familiar tug in you and cried out when your orgasm hit you like whiplash. You felt how his moan vibrated in your insides and rode his face until the feeling of your end made you feel like a jell-o.

It was only a brief moment of relief, you closed your eyes, still high from your orgasm, when you felt him crawling above you, and kissed your cheeks with affection, you thought he was incapable of.

Opening your eyes, you gave him a toothy grin, and put your arms around his neck.

You felt him cupping your core for a moment, and holding his dick in front of your entrance, before dipping in and your back was raised from euphoria.

He was relentless as he moved. It was primal, as if, for someone who could have sex with anyone, he seems like he doesn't know what he is doing and only moves by pure instinct.

You were too out of it, when you placed your hand on his cheek, and kissed his lips softly. He was staring at the way he hides inside of you. How he fits perfectly. Fascinated on how you accepted him right away for someone who was so adamant on saying no.

“Don't neglect me.” You begged, with a pout. As you pulled his face to come look at you.

His assault stopped for a moment. He was just staring at you, eyes wide, and mouth agape. Until, something flashed on those pupils and he moved his face closer to you.

“I do not care if it was only the drugs talking but after this, don't expect that you’ll be back on your normal life in hell. You are now mine. Everything about you is mine. Mine to protect, mine to take care of, and mine to destroy. No matter how much you begged for me to leave you alone, I won't do that. You already sold yourself to me. And this may be the reason why out of all the people I know of it was you who found me again.” His eyes were intense and voiced laced with dark promise.

“Alright. I am yours, Vox.” Not really understanding what he said, you responded.

That night, everything was a blur. You don't remember how many times he bent you over, how much you soiled the sheets, or how many times you marked each other like there is no tomorrow.

It was wild, uncaring and fast. You’re probably going to regret it the moment you’re back to yourself and realize the damage you have done.

But tonight, you cannot deny that you enjoyed the attention. His attention.

[kirk-spock-fics]

hello! I'm looking for a fic that I read but have since been unable to find. It's sort of an arranged marriage fic. Spock needs to marry Jim to stay on board the enterprise for some reason, but the thing I remember most is Spock taking his marital duties very seriously and he would give Jim a flower each day (or often). I would really appreciate any help in finding this fic, it's so good! Thanks!

Hello!

The only fic I could find that matched your description of Spock bringing Jim flowers often is

Vulcan's Most Eligible Bachelor by museaway

mature aos, kirk/spock, kirk/spock prime victorian vulcans, courtship, language of flowers, love letters, marriage proposals words: 30,146 'Jim wasn't the one who saved Vulcan, but he's the one on a transport right now for a month-long stay as an honored guest. What he doesn't realize is they're all going to try and court him…including his first officer.'

It's not quite an arranged marriage or fake marriage fic but it's the closest I could find that included the part about flowers.

If anyone knows which fic this is, please share it in the comments or in an ask/submission!

Here are some other fics where Jim and Spock have to fake a marriage/relationship so they can stay together on the Enterprise:

My Love Is Bigger Than Your Love by gunstreet

explicit tos, kirk/spock fake marriage, marriage of convenience, jealous kirk, love confessions, first kiss, slash words: 29,065 'When Spock's mother sends him a message with a list of suitors he must choose from in short order lest he be barred from returning to his homeworld, his only alternative is to bring his own chosen spouse to Vulcan for his parents to meet for themselves. Spock not actually having a spouse is hardly a problem in Jim's mind. However, his brilliant plan has the potential to backfire in ways Jim could easily have predicted… and ways he could not have.'

Verisimilitude by CateAdams

explicit CW: graphic depictions of violence tos, mirror!kirk/mirror!spock, mirror universe marriage of convenience, action/adventure, romance, slash words: 15,527 'A new directive from the Imperial Fleet requires all officers of command rank to enter into legal marriage. On the ISS Enterprise, the order’s purpose is obvious: to allow political operatives to gain influence within the lucrative exploits of the flagship and divert more profits and power to the Admiralty. As the deadline approaches, the captain and first officer of the Enterprise devise an unlikely solution that forces a deeply personal reckoning.'

a sequence that you never learned by annataylor

explicit TW: implied childhood sexual abuse aos, kirk/spock kid fic, fake marriage, getting together, first time words: 64,624 'When Jim gets it in his head to adopt an eight year old Vulcan, Spock presents a logical solution to the issue of Jim's humanity: marriage to a Vulcan citizen.'

the warp and weft of your being by tardigradeschool

teen CW: past implied abuse aos, kirk/spock fake marriage, sharing a bed, hurt/comfort, crew as family, mutual pining words: 7,701 'When getting legally married to Spock is the only way to keep him on the ship, Jim is more than willing to do so. (In fact, upon reflection, it turns out that there are very few things he wouldn't do for Spock.)'

You Could Call It Love by lurikko

mature tos, kirk/spock, post-canon getting together, fake/pretend marriage, slow burn, unresolved sexual tension words: 45,791 'If marrying Spock is what it’s going to take to get them both back on Enterprise for another five-year mission, then Jim Kirk damn well is going to marry Spock.'

Nature of the Bond by jadztone

explicit tos movies, kirk/spock fake/pretend relationship, temporary amnesia, misunderstandings, mutual pining, sharing a bed, friends to lovers, old married spirk, pon farr, slash words: 32,429 'Just before they are to head back to Earth after the fal-tor-pan, Spock detects that he has a bond with Jim. Still having gaps in his memory, he attempts to analyze the nature of the bond. Spock concludes that he and Jim are bondmates, and says as much in front of Starfleet brass. Jim is shocked, but goes along with it out of fear that Starfleet would declare Spock unfit for duty. After telling Spock the truth, they agree to continue letting Starfleet believe that their bond is romantic in nature, while both privately wish that it was.'

[naminethewriter]

How It All Began

Chapter Four: A New Deal

Masterpost | First | Previous | Next | Ao3

Story Summary: Remus, son of a simple fisherman, had worked hard to become the captain of his own pirate ship. And in his humble opinion, it was going great! His crew was small but reliable and they had just stolen something that could them some nice cash from a military vessel they happened to cross on the open sea. They just needed to hide it somewhere until it was safe to sell. How lucky for them that they come across a nice, uninhabited island.

Little did Remus know just who he would find on that little piece of land and how it would change his life entirely.

Content Warning: Clay Construct that fails to emulate human anatomy, References to past Abuse, Riddles

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan was quite nervous. Janus had returned a few days after their last conversation to inform him that his patron wanted to speak to him in person about the request he made for Remus. She would arrive on the island the next day when the sun was at its apex to speak to him. It was just about time and Logan was pacing up and down his campsite. He was confident in Remus’ sincerity when making the request, he was unsure of whether he could properly convey as much to his patron.

Yes, he had talked with Lady Ala many times before but that still didn’t change her intimidating presence when he did. She was on the Council of Elemental Spirits for Nature’s sake! He could never meet her completely relaxed.

A rumble shook him out of his thoughts. No more time for worrying. She was here.

The ground under him vibrated as a mound of earth formed on the other side of the fire pit. It grew taller and taller, about seven feet before it formed humanoid features, a head with long hair and kind eyes on a slender body, smooth as the clay it was formed from. The limbs were just a bit too long and didn’t bend quite right which, along with the sheer height, made for an unsettling sight.

“Logan,” a melodic voice spilled past freshly formed lips that moved but didn’t have a mouth to conceal. “I hope you have been well.” Logan shook himself from his stupor and bowed. He had seen this process a few times before already, but it never failed to stun him.

“Yes, Your Grace. I haven’t been lacking.”

“Good. Good.” She smiled, her lips stretching too far along her face to seem human. “I am pleased to hear you make a request of us. I am always willing to hear you out, you know?”

“Yes, of course.” Logan did know that. Lady Ala had made it clear early on in their partnership that she wanted him to be comfortable in his new life since he had proven himself worthy of it. Still, Logan struggled with asking for more than the bare minimum he needed. His moss bed was something he had only been comfortable asking for after around fifty years of serving her.

“Though, this request isn’t technically for you, correct?”

“Indeed. It is for a… friend of mine.”

“You do not sound sure of using that title for him.” Her voice was as serene as before, but Logan felt like there was an edge to it. It must just be his nerves talking.

“We only briefly met but I do believe he is sincere. He spent a lot of time asking me questions about my… situation and was very forthcoming with personal information.”

“You spend such brief time together and yet he asked something so important of you?”

“It was a rare opportunity. There are few like me out there and there was no guarantee that we would meet again.”

“Is that what he told you or what you simple believe to be truth?”

Logan faltered. “He… did not tell me so outright but he implied as much before. And I do believe his intentions to be sincere. He does not wish to exploit you.”

“How are you so sure, my dear Logan? In such short time it is hard to find a person’s true character.”

“With all due respect, Lady Ala, but I am well acquainted with the sort of man who would seek you out solely to satisfy their greed.” Logan looked up at the clay construct that his patron had chosen to speak through. “I spent three years as their prisoner, unable to leave their ship. I know their eyes, the words they speak, the way they twist their words to present themselves in a better light. I know the ones that try to act like they pity me, that try to fool me into trusting them to get what they want. I spend three long years suffering under their hands. Remus is not like them. He is honest in his curiosity. He does not hide his blemishes. He has embraced who he is and forges his own path no matter what others say. He does not wish you harm or seek to exploit you. He is simply curious.”

Lady Ala was silent for a long moment, watching him from her high vantage point but Logan didn’t shrink under her gaze.

“You speak very highly of this person.”

“Yes, he is one of the most impressive people I have ever met. I think he deserves a chance to prove himself to you as well.”

“Very well. I will grant him a chance.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“How could I not be intrigued by a man that you chose to put your trust into, my dear Logan? I was worried you were growing lonely recently.” She watched him attentively. Logan knew she saw him as one of her ‘children’ and that she cared about him more than his research, even if not everyone on the Council shared that sentiment. But he couldn’t see her in that light at all. She was superior to him, a being higher than himself, he couldn’t familiarize himself with her in that way. And she respected that, thankfully.

“I am very satisfied with my living conditions here, Your Grace. Janus and Virgil are companionship enough for me.”

“If you say so, I shall believe it.” She nodded her head and straightened her posture, towing at her full height over him. “Now then. In regard to the trial the human you call Remus shall face, along with those he travels with, I will leave it to Janus to deliver the quest. He will be his last judge. You will relocate as planned. You are not to provide aid to this human.”

“How could I aid him if I am away from here? I will be gone before he returns.”

“Indeed. However, I shall share with you the details of his quest. You are not to leave aid for him here when you leave.”

Logan frowned slightly but nodded. “Understood.”

“Good. Then listen.”

~~~

Two hours later, Logan walked across the island, following along the creek upstream. From what Lady Ala had told him, the trial Remus had to overcome to prove his worth wasn’t all that complicated, even if he knew that the instructions themselves would be presented in a riddle. Still, Remus was an intelligent man, Logan had no doubt that he would be able to figure out what he was meant to do. But there was one part of the trial that he supposed Remus could use some advice on. Lady Ala had forbidden him from aiding Remus in his quest, but Logan was sure he could leave a simple book recommendation behind for the pirate to find, right? He arrived at a familiar cliff and stuffed a ripped page from his notebook into his pocket and started climbing.

Once he returned to camp it was time to start packing. His time here was up. He just hoped he would encounter Remus again on another island somewhere out there.

~~~

Almost half a year. Remus hated that it took them almost half a year to return to Logan’s island. The damned navy wouldn’t give up controlling ships entering harbors in order to find the seal until last month. Being a pirate in general during those months had kinda been a pain, but they managed just fine. And now the whole thing had passed, and they should be able to smuggle the seal to a good buyer without much problem. Not that Remus cared that much about it anymore, he just wanted to see Logan again. The man had been haunting his dreams and maybe not just because he was an Immortal.

Maybe Remus just thought his eyes were pretty.

He was gay, fucking sue him.

Anyway, they were approaching their destination at a steady pace and should arrive there before noon the next day. Remus was so excited he considered not sleeping for the whole night. Which was a stupid plan, especially since he had already been sleeping less these past few days due to being too excited. He suspected that his crew knew they weren’t only returning to grab the seal but none of them had asked him any questions. He and Patton hadn’t told them anything about Logan so far and Remus didn’t want to share with them more until he was sure they would actually get the chance to prove themselves to the Elemental Spirits themselves.

A knock on his door pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Come in!”

His door opened but a crack before Patton’s voice floated over to him, “You’re decent, right, Captain?”

Remus snorted. “Yes, Pat. I got all my clothes on, don’t worry.” The cook peeked inside, only stepping across the threshold when he saw that Remus hadn’t lied.

“We’ll be at our destination about two hours after sunrise according to Corbin,” Patton reported with a small smile.

“Good.”

“The others are wondering how long we’re going to be docking there this time.”

“I have no idea, Pat. I guess it depends on what Logan’s got for us. If it’s just a straight up ‘no’ then I guess we would stay for like a day or two to chat, maybe introduce him to the rest of the crew if he’s chill with it. If it’s a ‘yes’ though… Well, then there’s no telling where it will lead us. As Logan said, we’ll have to prove ourselves worthy to meet the Council and whatever we have to do to do so? We’ll do it.”

“I understand. So, I’m telling the others to be ready to take off again whenever?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, got it.” Patton nodded while fiddling with his sleeves. “Are you really sure about this, Remus?” He asked quietly, almost too quiet for Remus to hear. He knew Patton had his doubts – well, he still had his doubts about their whole profession, but this was another other level of danger. Him using his name instead of his title just stressed how much it was on his mind.

“I’m super certain, Pat. If you don’t want to come along then I understand, of course. We’ll set you off at a good harbor.”

Immediately, Patton shook his head. “No, I promised I would stick with you, no matter what and I meant it! You saved my life, I’m staying.”

“Patton, I…”

“No, I know. You don’t see it as a debt and neither do I, I just want to help you.”

Remus sighed. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want you to force yourself into danger for my sake.”

“I’m not. I want to meet the Spirits, too. I’m just worried what will happen if things go wrong.”

“Oh, I’m sure they will!” Remus laughed, winking at Patton. “But whatever happens, I’m sure we can handle it. We always managed before, haven’t we?”

“I wish I had your confidence,” Patton chuckled weakly. “But okay, I’ll give your orders to the crew. Try to sleep, Captain. Tomorrow is going to be a lot.”

“Yeah, I know. I promise, I’ll try to sleep. Goodnight, Pat.”

“Goodnight, Captain.”

~~~

True to Corbin’s word, they anchored by Logan’s island a little over two hours after sunrise. Remus and Patton were the only ones to set off towards land this time and the captain was determined to meet Logan on his own for now. Patton respected his choice and waited on the beach. Remus entered the jungle alone and thankfully he had a good memory and a trusty compass that guided him in the right direction towards Logan’s camp quickly.

He found the path he had traversed with Logan back then, but it was different than before. More overgrown. As if nobody had walked along it for a while. A bad feeling spread through Remus’ chest and he quickened his steps. Maybe he was just imagining it. Maybe Logan just hadn’t had a reason to come this way recently. Yeah, he was sure the nerd was fine. He had to be.

Still, the sense of dread wouldn’t leave him alone the entire way to Logan’s camp. His eyes flitted around without rest, hyperaware of every movement around him, though it was mostly leaves being swayed by the rather strong winds of the day. Remus tried to take deep breaths to calm himself down but that was kinda hard to do while powerwalking along an uneven path.

Ten minutes later he broke through the line of trees into the clearing that contained Logan’s camp.

And his heart sank.

There was nothing there.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The indent of the fireplace was still there but it was empty. As was the space under the stone awning that had previously held Logan’s bed and belongings.

No trace of the Immortal was left.

Remus gripped the locket on his chest through his shirt as his heartbeat picked up.

He panicked.

He began to run, calling out Logan’s name in the hopes that he was mistaken. He had to be on the island somewhere, right? Maybe he had just moved his camp for some reason. That was the only explanation Remus could think of.

Well, that wasn’t true, but it was the only positive explanation he could think of.

He forced himself to not think about the possibility that his request could have led to Logan suffering the consequences. That the Council had rescinded their blessing because he had been too greedy.

Remus ran, calling and calling, but he didn’t receive an answer.

He ran around like a headless chicken for about ten minutes until he broke through the tree line again onto a beach. Not the beach where Patton was waiting with the rowboat but a small bay that was quite hidden between two cliffsides. There, Remus stopped, gasping for breath. He leaned on his knees, staring at the sand beneath him as he tried to force air back into his lungs.

“You’re quite a loud one,” a voice commented. It wasn’t one Remus had heard before, but he was sure it was just in his head, after all, no one else but him and Patton were here. And Logan. Hopefully.

“I gotta…” He heaved for air. “I gotta find him.” Why was he talking to a voice in his head? Because he needed to sort his thoughts and talking out loud helped him with that.

“Why?”

“Because I told him I’d come back.”

“Well, he’s not here.”

“He has to be. If he’s not here then… where is he?”

“If this is about your meeting with the Council, I am here to speak with you about that.” Remus head snapped up. Maybe this wasn’t a voice in his head after all.

His green eyes met gleaming gold. A Siren sat on a stone jutting out of the sea in front of him, the tail disappearing under the waves lapping at the rock. The sun caused his scales to sparkle, and his long hair flowed in the wind like some sort of goddess paintings he had seen in the few temples he had visited.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Remus breathed. Apparently loud enough for the siren to hear because he raised a brow. “Sorry, you caught me off guard.”

“Yes, I noticed. So, the deal.” The siren opened his mouth to continue but Remus cut him off.

“Wait, what about Logan?”

“Why do you care? I’ll give you your task, that’s what you want, right?” His voice was cold, and Remus remembered Logan mentioning that both of the siren’s he made regular contact with weren’t fond of humans. This was probably one of them.

“I mean, I can’t say I don’t want it but I also wanna know if Logie’s okay. He’s my friend and if my asking him for an audience with the Council got him in trouble, I don’t want to meet them.” The siren looked at him skeptically, taking his time deliberating his words.

He seemed to deem him sincere after a few moments because he reassured him, “Logan’s fine. He just moved to another isle.”

“Why? Did I do something?” Again, the siren looked surprised.

“No. His relocation was decided long before you came here. It just happened to coincide with your appearance and request.”

“So I can go see him then? Wherever he is now? You know, right?”

“I do. But I’m not going to tell you.” The siren said it with a grin, showing off his sharp teeth. Remus scowled.

“Why not?”

“Because it would make this thing rather pointless, wouldn’t it?” From behind his back, the mer pulled a glass bottle into view. From the distance Remus could see it contained a role of paper. “This holds your instructions to prove yourself worthy of being considered for an audience, as you call it.” Remus watched as he played with the bottle, suspicious of the siren’s intentions.

“What’s the catch? And what does it have to do with me meeting Logan again?”

“If you do this correctly, then it will lead you to Logan’s new home and if you make it there in one piece, you will be allowed to take on the real tests to prove your honest intentions towards the Council. A trial run, I believe you humans call it.”

“Then give it here.” Remus held out his hand, ready to catch the bottle if thrown but the siren just smiled coyly and placed it back behind him.

“Not yet, I think.”

“Why?” The pirate grit his teeth in irritation. The mer was burning daylight, he wanted to get going, to figure out where Logan went.

“Because I’m not willing to acknowledge you as a candidate yet. Logan says he trusts you, but I don’t buy it. You two met three times and one of those you killed him. And yet he wants to give you a chance to meet the entities he has sworn to protect and serve? It doesn’t add up.” The siren stared at him with piercing eyes full of mistrust. Fine, he wanted to play this game? Remus would oblige.

“What do you want me to do then? To earn your trust?”

“I have questions for you. Answer them and I might give you the bottle. And don’t try to lie to me, I can tell when you do.”

With a sign, Remus let himself fall on his butt in the sand. “Shoot.”

~~~

Remus let himself be interrogated for hours. He answered the siren’s questions, no matter how private. At least the ones about himself. The mer also tried to get detail about his crew but Remus refused to offer up their information without their consent. He figured he did the right thing there when the siren didn’t push him further. Eventually the questions stopped and they simply stared at each other for a while. Remus didn’t speak up, daring the siren to continue badgering him.

“Fine. I have to admit, Logan’s seems like a better judge of character than I thought,” the mer sighed and threw the bottle in Remus’ direction. It landed a few feet to his left with a dull thud. Remus didn’t reach for it right away, watching the siren. “What are you waiting for, pirate?”

“What’s your name?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I just want to know. Logan told me about two sirens that visit him and I think I know which one you are.”

“Oh, really?” the other asked, brows raised again. “Enlighten me then.”

“Janus, right?”

“Correct.” The siren looked like he had bit into something bitter as his name left Remus’ lips. “You have quite the memory.”

“I tend to remember things I find interesting. And I’ve always wanted to meet a siren.”

“You didn’t look so happy to meet me a few hours ago.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I was worried about Logan more. You promise he’s alright?”

“Yes. He is fine and doing his research like he’s supposed to.” Remus glanced at the bottle before meeting Janus’ gaze again.

“And if I manage to clear your trial, I can see him again.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Remus got up, shaking the sand off his pants before finally going over to grab the glass container and looking inside. It indeed was a rolled-up piece of paper. He put the bottle in his satchel to look at when he was back on the ship. “Thank you,” he said to the siren that looked surprised at his words.

“Why thank me? I kept you here and made you humor me.”

“Yeah, and that was kinda a dick move, but you also gave me a way to meet my friend again, so I’ll take it.”

“You’re strange, human.”

“So I’ve heard. Can I go now?” The siren waved his arm as if to shoo him off and with an eye roll, Remus walked back into the jungle. Behind him he heard the splash of Janus diving back into the water. He really hoped that one day he could bombard the siren with his own questions, but for now he had a seal to collect, a crew to return to and a piece of paper to pull out of a bottle and decipher. He pulled out his compass. Time to find his way back to the creek.

~~~

Around two hours later, Remus pulled Patton into his quarters. He had told his crew to set sail towards the harbor where he hoped to sell the seal. Meanwhile, he and Patton would see what was given to them by Janus.

“And you’re sure Logan’s fine?” Patton asked for the third time after Remus pulled the door shut behind him.

“I think we can trust the siren’s words, yeah.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Me neither, but there’s nothing else we can do. This—“ He held up the glass bottle. “—is the only clue we have, so let’s concentrate on that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just worry,” Patton sighed, sitting down in a chair in front of Remus’ desk while the captain sat behind it.

“I know, Pat. Let’s get you distracted.” With a grin, Remus held up the bottle, fully intending to smash it against the desk to break it open.

“STOP!” Patton all but screamed, eyes wide. “Captain, that’s a horrible idea! The shards would be everywhere. They will hit us!”

“Oh, right. Oops?” The other glared at Remus but didn’t say more. Instead, he took the bottle from Remus and inspected the neck and contents.

“I think the paper is wrapped tightly enough that it will just slip out if we pull the cork.”

“Boring!”

“Want me to get Emile so he can lecture you about safety procedures again?”

“Don’t threaten me, Pat, this is my fucking ship.” Despite his words, Remus’ tone was more akin to a whine than actual annoyance.

“Then don’t put yourself in harm’s way over a stupid message in a bottle.” Patton pulled out a corkscrew out of his pocket – he really carried that around with him? – and gently shook the paper out. It fell into his hands, and he handed it over to Remus who eagerly pulled away the piece of twine keeping it rolled up. It wasn’t very big and only a few lines were written on it. He read it out:

“To find where you need to go, visit the roaring mountain lying between the Mouth of the Ocean and the Ever-Frozen Isle. Offer your precious to the heart of the temple standing on the mountain’s side and then the stars shall guide you to your destiny.”

Both of them were quiet for a moment, trying to process the words. Remus read the note over and over while Patton stared at the ceiling in thought.

“I think I know what they mean by ‘Ever-Frozen Isle’,” Remus muttered, squinting at the paper in his hand, “but what the hell is a ‘roaring mountain’ supposed to be?”

“Couldn’t that mean a volcano?” Patton questioned. “I don’t know a lot about sea legends apart from what you told me since they weren’t common where I come from, but we did have some about volcano outbreaks. And in those there would be verses like ‘the mountains roared and the flames followed’ or something along those lines.”

“Hm, makes sense, I guess,” Remus hummed. “Then what is the ‘Mouth of the Ocean’?”

“I never heard of it. What do you think the ‘Ever-Frozen Isle’ is?”

“It’s a common legend about an Island in the south seas where it’s always winter. It’s supposed to be super beautiful but getting there requires sailing through quite a few hazards, not to mention that you need to be prepared for the freezing temperatures once there, so there aren’t many records about it.”

“Fascinating!” Patton was on the edge of his seat listening to Remus. “I would love to see it; I’ve never even seen snow!”

Remus laughed. “Maybe someday we’ll go there if we can find some stuff to protect us from the cold.” The other beamed. “Anyway, this will require research, I think. We’ll ask the others if they can think what any of this means but even if they do, we’ll likely need more precise coordinates and maps.” They’d most likely need to visit a library. Remus hated places that forced quietness. Patton looked at him empathetically.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad. Let’s see what the others think first? How much are we telling them anyway?”

“Just that we got something interesting going on and that they’ll get the details later. I don’t want to get their hopes up.”

“I understand,” Patton smiled weakly. He didn’t like secrets, but those were his captain’s orders, so he would stay quiet on the subject. He was about to stand and make his way to the door to gather the crew but suddenly stopped short. “Did you get the seal?”

Oh right. Over all of Patton’s worrying over Logan, he had forgotten to check the box he had retrieved from the hiding place the Immortal had shown them. He pulled the wooden container out of the satchel and placed it on the desk in front of him. Patton leaned closer to peek inside. Remus opened the lid to find the seal where he had left it, as well as a piece of paper that hadn’t been there before. He pulled it out, unfolded it and began to read.

Dear Remus (and Patton),

I apologize that I am not there to greet you, but I must to continue my research elsewhere.

This has been planned for a while and I cannot stall it any longer, nor do I truly want to.

If you are serious about your request, I am sure we will meet again soon.

Speaking of which, I was told not to aid you and I shall refrain from doing so, however, I wanted to share with you a rumor I heard while still at court before my time with the Spirits.

Back then there was talk of a book, written by a rather well-known researcher on the subject of Sirens and their culture. The man, Frederick van Woodsworth was his name, I believe, had been believed to been lost at sea for many years before he miraculously returned one day. He spoke of having been saved by a siren and living alongside them for a long period of time. Of course, he was deemed insane for his claims, after all, it was widely believed back then that Sirens are nothing but bloodthirsty creatures out to kill humans. Woodsworth was ridiculed and cast out.

He wrote his experiences down in a book and attempted to publish it but was detained for treason. The copies of his book should still exist, however. I heard of one of them being kept in the library of Marblerock Port, not far from here. It’s probably not accessible to the public, however.

I hope you find use in this tale.

Until we meet again,

Logan

Remus stared at the letter with a raised brow.

“What the fuck is he trying to say with this?!”

“I’m not sure,” Patton hummed, suddenly standing behind him and reading over his shoulder. “Maybe he just thought you might find it interesting since you told him you’d like to meet a siren one day?”

“I don’t know. I feel like he’s trying to tell me something, but I have no clue what.” Remus squinted at the letters, trying to will them to reveal their secrets to him. Nothing happened, sadly. “I don’t have the patience for riddles! And now I have two!” he groaned. Patton pat him on the shoulder.

“Let’s look on the bright side! You and I already have some leads on two parts of the riddle and I’m sure the others have something to contribute, too. And if we need to do some research anyway, going to this specific library works just as well as going to any other, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. Let’s see if the others can prove to me that it’s beneficial to keep them around.”

“That’s not nice!” Patton protested, but Remus was already moving past him.

“Relax, Pat. It’s just a joke. They could all break a leg tomorrow and I would let them stay, you know that. Hell, they can haunt me if they want, I still wouldn’t want to get rid of them.”

“Yes, I know,” Patton giggled, following his captain out of the room and up on deck.

“Okay, chucklefucks!” Remus called out loudly. “I’ve got a riddle for you and if you can help me figure it out, we can go on the adventure of our lifetime!”

[aryasage]

go and save yourself

so.

liv and i were Talking. as is often the case. and, let's just say…i had some Ideas about how ltfite could have gone differently.

some warnings beforehand!

this is not canon, okay?

this is not, in fact, what happens in ltfite nor what happens after. obviously.

viego will not ever use this tactic for the following reasons.

viego canonically does Not Understand Relationships. he does not actually love isolde. he loves the idea of her. he wants her and he would create the entire ruination to get her back but if he could make her live again in exchange for his own life he would not do so because he doesn't care about her. he cares about having her. so him exploiting relationships like this would not make sense.

even if it did make sense, if viego did this, he would pretty much be undefeatable. that's no fun for the story. and we all know how incapable ppau is of having unhappy endings. i can safely say having literally everyone get ruined and viego possess everyone is not a happy ending.

this is Dark. ppau is Not This Dark. no, viper does not count. and besides, liv isn't the one who wrote the Actually Dark part. temporary character death is fun and all but this scene is Not Cheery at All.

(even not counting the viego stuff parts of this are not entirely canon-compliant for…Reasons.)

however! Darkness aside, it does make for some good angst, and the brainrot is quite powerful. so if you're not fazed by any of that, keep reading for a little snippety bit of what i had some Random Thoughts about :)

(mild blood and. uh. Threats, possession, if that wasn't obvious, implied temporary character death)

“Faker. I know you’re still here,” the Ruined King taunts in his shadowy voice of mist. Faker stops breathing. There should be no way of seeing him, cloaked in shadows, but the Ruined King doesn’t seem to care all that much for the laws of physics. “I know you’re watching me. Watching them. You care about them, don’t you?”

Faker couldn’t care more about the four teammates standing by the side of the Ruined King, misty green crowns hovering over their heads, eyes swirling with green shadows. Not after all they’ve been through. Not after he failed them so recently, and the Ruined King seems to know this all too well. “You would not stay here if you did not, after all. Little demon king, you will bow to me yet. Your kingdom will fall regardless. Show yourself, and those you love will not be harmed. Stay hidden, however, and you will watch them suffer one by one for your stubbornness.”

Faker’s blood runs cold, and he can do nothing but stand there, frozen as he watches the Ruined King lazily glance around, waiting for Faker to reveal himself. When Faker doesn’t respond after a minute, the Ruined King sighs. “So be it. Why not start with your weak little support, then? So loyal to me. So willing.”

Faker can only look on in horror as misty water forms in Keria’s empty palm, freezing into a wicked dagger of ice. All of his teammates look wrong, but Keria especially so, the green glow of the misty crown above his head casting a sickly light over his face, causing him to look even smaller than he usually does. Keria’s eyes are watery, tears threatening to spill over, and his arm violently trembles, but then it stops, moving unnaturally smoothly instead, slowly raising the blade to his neck. 

As it meets his throat, Keria’s eyes suddenly unfog, sending a clear message combined with the slightest shake of his head that causes beads of blood to well up. Don’t give in, Keria’s begging, but Faker can’t see past the sheer terror in his eyes, and as the mist clouds them over again, the pure fear is still all Faker can see.

As Keria’s hand presses harder, causing those first few drops of blood to spill over and drip down his neck, the tears in his eyes do the same, streaming down his face, and Faker snaps, forcing the shadows concealing him as far away as he can and revealing himself to the rest of them.

“There! That wasn’t so hard, was it?” the Ruined King asks, a smug smile on his face, but Keria doesn’t lower the dagger, the implicit threat still hanging over Faker’s head. 

“I surrender,” Faker whispers, and he immediately hears four muffled noises of protest. I’m sorry, he thinks. But I’m not letting any of you die for me. I already failed you enough. “But you have to let them go.”

“You are in no position to argue, little demon king,” The ruined king scoffs. “And yet, I admire your spirit. So I shall acquiesce. Once I have you, I shall let the others go.”

Faker nods. Steeling his nerves, he pulls his chestplate off in one fluid motion and braces himself for the impact. Still, nothing prepares him for the sheer agony as the Ruined King’s sword stabs straight through his chest. White-hot pain courses through him, so overwhelming that he nearly forgets everything else. Somehow, though, he manages to look up at the Ruined King in determination even as his body freezes up. 

“Now,” he grits out. “Free…them.”

The Ruined King lets out a laugh, a sharp, merciless bark. “No,” he says. “They will be useful, after all.”

[devintrinidad]

Veneweek2k22 DAY 2: DISPUTE/CUISINE

Warnings: All of the prompts will be displayed in a mostly linear narrative where there will be various ocs; discussion of existentialism, the nature of Nations, mentioned/implied infidelity, unrequited love, etc.; and the character of Veneziano will be portrayed in a very human light. (This means that he won’t always be in the right or be considered “good”, but rather a multifaceted character that I want to explore with this week’s prompts).

Summary: Niccolo confronts the past while Veneziano acts more or less nonchalant about it.

.

.

.

It was midmorning now, the perfect time for a late breakfast with friends. Niccolo wished that he could spend breakfast in the dining room with his family just like when he was still a spry, young man, but unfortunately, old age was not so easily overcome. Instead, his granddaughter had taken it upon herself to accompany him for his first meal of the day.

Over the last few years, when his health began to decline exponentially, his family would take turns to dine with Niccolo because his room wasn't big enough to house all the members. Furthermore, it simply wasn't practical to haul all the dishes up and down the stairs. Too many mishaps could happen and no one wanted to be the reason they accidentally burned Nonno Niccolo.

Sometimes, his son and his wife would share their breakfast with him, the stories of their children's exploits and the news of the world outside. Often, they were warm and engaging, but Niccolo's daughter-in-law often scolded him for being picky about his food.

Other times, Niccolo's younger sister would bring her homemade bread and her special wine that she had cultivated from her vineyards. They would share a laugh, reminisce about the old days, and talk about their respective families.

Today, Niccolo's granddaughter from his eldest daughter had decided to take breakfast with him. She was young and beautiful, a bright young scholar who was two years into university. She was interested in the arts... which had surprised and pleased the visitor who had also come for breakfast.

"And why do you look so surprised, signor?" Vera teased as she sipped her coffee.

Veneziano, who had long since made himself at home in Niccolo's bedroom and had endeared himself to Vera with a wink and a smile, gave Niccolo a smirk that Niccolo vowed he would get back at him for. Eyes twinkling and with enough charm that could land him any desired person he wanted, Veneziano said:

"When your grandfather was younger, he had aspirations to be an architect, but had become an engineer instead." He shook his head, eyes awash in the clouds of a memory. As he hummed a tune known only to him, the young man tapped a finger against the full flesh of his lips and smiled sweetly at the both of them. "I asked about his designs and well..."

Niccolo had half a mind to jab his spoon at his seemingly young guest. "You speak as if my career ended then and there."

Veneziano laughed. "The way you acted back then... it might as well have been."

Between the two of them, Vera could clearly see that there was a history that spanned longer than what she had at first inferred from meeting Veneziano. The young man had informed her that he had been a former student of her grandfather and had attended many seminars before Niccolo's health began to decline just over three and a half years ago. His backstory seemed to check out, but something tickled at the back of her brain.

There was no ill will or malice from the young man, but she was curious. 

It didn’t take an artist’s keen eye to see the easy chemistry, the years that lined and punctuated their every movement and back and forth banter between them. 

"And how long have you known each other? You speak as if you have known him since he was very young, Nonno."

Vera didn't know what to expect, but the sight of her beloved grandfather and the visitor sharing an indistinguishable look before laughing uproariously was somewhat ingratiating, yet expected in a way. By the Blessed Virgin, they were just as noisy as the drunkards at the local bar!

"Dear Vera," Niccolo managed to rasp between bursts of laughter, "do you mind getting more of the biscotti? I fear our guest hasn't eaten enough..."

And just like a child who had been told to rehearse lines for a play, the visitor continued their charade. "I hate to be a bother, but..."

How could such a man barely older than herself look so childish and innocent? Despite knowing that she wasn't privy to their conversation, she acquiesced without a grudge.

The men, one so old and the other so young, watched as the young woman made her way out of the cramped room. As her footsteps gradually descended down the steps and into the kitchen, both of them sobered. Their stances, while seated, had become rather tense. 

"You better watch yourself, Veneziano," Niccolo lowly murmured, "my family could barely handle one heartbreak from you; I dare say we would all shatter if Vera were to get involved with you."

"You turned out just fine." Veneziano pouted. He leaned back in his chair and pointed at Niccolo, his gaze unwavering with a past that both of them took care to remember, but never quite say out loud. "And it's not like I do that on purpose."

Niccolo wished he could sit up straight and ream into Veneziano like he deserved. Unfortunately, the support from the pillows and the blankets that nestled him proved far too much of a benefit to discard. Instead, he spared himself the physical effort and went for the killing blow instead.

"Don't think I dind't see you smile and compliment her eyes and tell her that one stupid joke about the Germans and the Austrians—those were the same things that you used on me back when I was scarcely older than her."

Veneziano blinked.

Niccolo rarely, if ever, talked about the past like that. Even when they were communicating mostly through letter and email, he always took care to address Veneziano in a friendly manner, as opposed to the exploits they initiated during Niccolo’s youth. 

"Harmless flirting is only that. I'll stop if she tells me to or if she looks uncomfortable." Veneziano made a dismissive gesture that would have surely placated Niccolo at any other time, but only served to anger the old man. When the silence began to grow too much for Veneziano to bear, he averted his gaze and clasped both hands down onto his lap. 

"I know that what we had could have been—"

"And that's the problem isn't it? With what you are, it shouldn't have happened at all." 

Once upon a time, Niccolo was able to speak with a low baritone. It would carry across large classrooms, had ended debates, and guided others to seeking and obtaining knowledge. Nowadays, however, his voice was weak, hoarse. What used to be a lilting melody had become scratchy and breathy as the years went by. 

But still. 

There was passion. And where there was passion, came power. 

Weary now and fatigued from raising his voice, Niccolo slumped back against his bed and turned his head away. The sun shined merrily outside with an intensity that would have instantly warmed him down to his bone. He would have to ask Francesca, his daughter-in-law, to move him closer to the sunlight.

When Niccolo opened his eyes again, he refused to deign Veneziano with the intensity of his dark green eyes.

"I'm truly glad that you found me again, Veneziano. After years of letters and emails, it is nice to hear your voice, to feel your skin against mine. It brings back..." His eyes began to burn; the back of his throat, scratchy. His fingers, once so sure of themselves and stolid, rubbed the thin cloth of the blanket that had been draped over him. It did little to calm him, but he did gather the strength to speak once more. "I want you here, I do. I don't have long left and I don't want to fight and cry when I'm about to die. I'm not asking you to apologize, but I need you to leave. Now."

The past had long since been dealt with, yes, but something in Niccolo had snapped. A part of him wanted to right past wrongs. 

He wanted to make sure that the problems of the past would never be grown into fruition in the present—especially if it would affect the health and sanity of his granddaughter.

Niccolo sighed, content to nap now that breakfast had finished, but found his breath catching when he felt Veneziano caress his cheek with a gentle, but searing kiss.

"Just so you know," Veneziano whispered, his words dancing on Niccolo's skin, "you are still the most captivating person in this room."

Niccolo couldn't help it.

He smiled.

"Go away, you stupid man." He whacked Veneziano on the arm—a parody of a hit, really. "We all know that's a lie."

Another kiss, this time on Niccolo's forehead—less of a goodbye and more of a promise of good things to come.

@veneweek2k22

[justmenoworries]

Yo, okay, totally bonkers theory here, but! What if Macaque’s and MK’s first meeting was a pure coincidence?

What if Macaque genuinely didn’t expect MK to be there, but once he was, Mac just kinda... rolled with it, because he saw his chance to get back at Wukong?

Ramblings and theorizing under the read more!

So, what their first meeting initially looks like seems like a classic con-artist set-up: Macaque creates the giant shadow-creature from his own shadow “defeats” it, gains the admiration of MK and we know how it went from there.

But upon several re-watches, I kinda noticed that, if that was in fact the plan from the very beginning, then some of Macaque’s actions and expressions don’t really add up?

Like right here, when he beats his shadow-giant for the first time.

That’s a rather odd expression for someone who presumably just won the equivalent of a mock-fight.

It looks rather calculating and even a bit critical, for lack of a better word. Like he’s trying to gauge something.

So, I thought: What if he wasn’t actually trying to attract MK? What if he was training? That move he whipped out seconds before sure looked fancy and complicated. What if he was using the shadow-giant as a training-dummy, to test his own strength?

We know Macaque does train. He has his own dojo after all.

And let’s be real: Macaque would totally be selfish and reckless enough to practice a dangerous move on a just as dangerous target in the middle of a city.

Then there’s his reaction to meeting MK.

When MK first calls out to him, he seems genuinely surprised. He even assumes a fighting stance.

When MK falls, he tries to walk away, with a  facial expression that  says: “Huh. That was weird.”

Then when MK gets all up in his face the very next second, he startles and leans back.

If Macaque was already expecting MK to show up, why react like this?

In fact, MK losing his grip on the roof would have been the perfect opportunity for Macaque to win his trust. He could have caught him, made a good-natured joke about MK needing to be more careful, then pretended he just realized this is the famous Monkie Kid he’s talking to.

Instead, he seems like he honestly didn’t know who MK was at first and also didn’t expect him to show up.

By the time MK gets all close and personal, it definitely clicked for Macaque who he was talking to.

And I know what you’re thinking: “But if he wasn’t planning on luring in MK, how did he know exactly who MK was?”

Good question!

Mk asks it too, and Macaque gives a pretty convincing answer.

Macaque: “Monkie Kid, right?

MK: “*gasp* How did you-?”

Macaque: “Your staff kinda gives you away, dude. Not just anyone can wield that thing.”

Which, you know. Fair enough. By this point MK is kind of the unofficial super-hero of his hometown. It’s entirely plausible that stories about the boy who can lift and wield the Monkey King’s staff would have come around to Macaque.

And yeah, it’s entirely possible that the plan was to lure in MK from the beginning and I’m just overthinking things.

But again, if Macaque wanted to manipulate MK into swapping teachers, here’s another prime opportunity he seemingly just lets go to waste.

His target has arrived, he’s obviously impressed by what Macaque just did (even if he did think he was watching Monkey King at first) and he’s in a prime position to make a non-chalant offer of mentorship to.

What does Macaque do?

He says: “See you around, MK.” And, once again, tries to leave.

Now this is the point where I think Macaque truly began to see MK as an opportunity to get back at Wukong.

MK isn’t exactly being subtle with his dissatsifaction with Monkey King’s teachings and his desire to learn cool new stuff.

Macaque, being quick on his feet, immediately puts two and two together and here’s where the con starts.

Macaque intentionally plays on MK’s insecurity about Wukong as a teacher and his own talent as a fighter.

First by subtly implying that Wukong wants to hold him back by not teaching him stuff.

Macaque: “Buut, you can never have too many teachers! I’m sure Monkey King would agree. It’s not like he’d wanna hold you back.”

(Side note: That is an interesting thing to just bring up here. I wonder if Macaque was going through something similar in the past, where he felt like Wukong was intentionally holding him back, maybe so he himself could shine brighter as a hero. Whether or not he’s correct in that assumption is up in the air, since we still haven’t heard Wukong’s side of the story in “Shadow Play”. Long story short, I think there’s a bit of projection going on here. And by a bit, I mean a lot.)

Then by negging Mk about not quite living up to his own legend when he defeats him in a sparring match later on.

Macaque: ”Not bad. Don’t get me wrong, but I was kind of expecting a little more from someone with your power.”

MK: “H-hey, I’ve got more! I can give way more than that! I can do better.”

Macaque: “Kay. Maybe show me next time.”

And after this is where he teaches MK dangerously extreme techniques and slowly gets him into a position where he can steal Monkey King’s power from him.

I’d like to think that Macaque did develop at least some genuine fondness for Mk when they trained together. His advice about how Mk should “stop trying to be nice” sounds like something he might have wished someone said to him way back when, when he was still trying to be Wukong’s faithful partner and friend.

But in the end, that small bit of attachment just couldn’t measure up to the years of resentment and rage towards Wukong.

TL; DR: Macaque met MK by pure coincidence, recognized a situation he could easily exploit for his own benefit and then promptly did so. It wasn’t actually planned, at least not at first.

P.S

I feaking love how Macaque’s image on MK actually gets smug when MK chooses Macaque’s teachings over Wukong’s. Macaque must have felt so reluctantly proud and triumphant in that moment.

Also, Macaque’s wide smile when he talks about teaching MK. Happy evil dad.

[rosycheekedandsmilin]

Here Comes the Sun

Here Comes the Sun

Luke Patterson Imagine

Summary: Luke sees you at one of the boys’ practice sessions.

Warnings: just fluff with a hint of angst, I think. There is a mention of a pregnancy rumor and implied bullying, but not extensively

(A/N: I’m soooo sorry this took so long. Things have been hectic. Also, this would be before they died back in 1995. Plus, I’m new to all this so any recommendations, comments, tips, etc would be appreciated)

You had told your friend, Dianne, that you had homework to do, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. The boys of Sunset Curve were rising quickly on the LA scene and your friend was just one of the many to join their legions of female fans. It also helped that they happened to go to school with you. You couldn’t deny that they were all pretty cute, but you sided with many when you decided you had a preference for the front man: Luke Patterson.

You both used to be close your freshman year, but after he joined Sunset Curve your sophomore year, you both went your separate ways. You’d actually seen him several times in the hallways this year when he wasn’t surrounded by girls. He would be stepping in time with some imaginary beat, his fingers plucking on the old messenger bag hanging from his shoulder. He was always looking up, ever the optimist, looking at the horizon like only good things could ever come his way. His bottom lip caught in his teeth through a beaming smile, his hair brushing along his long eyelashes-

Whew. He was gorgeous.

And trigonometry homework could wait for you to see that gorgeous again up close.

The boys would sometimes hold open practice for a few fans to come watch and hang out, but it was starting to become exclusive as more people began to show up than they had room for.

Thus, your friend lept at the opportunity when she cornered Reggie alone in World History. You giggled at his adorable smile as your friend twirled her hair and flirted his socks off. Before you knew it, she was running back to you with a grin and the promise to see the band practice that coming Thursday after school.

You dressed in some simple mom jeans and a graphic tshirt tied at the waist, hopefully to flatter your figure. Dianne guaranteed you looked “smokin’ hot”, in her words. 4:10 struck and you both got in her car to head that way. The practice started at 4:00, but Dianne told you repeatedly that being fashionably late would set you both apart from the crowd.

On the way to the studio garage, you found yourself extremely nervous. You didn’t even fully know why; it was just a band, just a boy. It wasn’t a date or you throwing yourself at him, but you couldn’t help the fluttering feeling in your stomach at the thought of seeing Luke Patterson perform before a selected crowd, you being one of them.

Meanwhile, the boys were starting to warm up when Reggie started rambling.

“Isn’t it weird that no one comes on Thursdays?”

Bobby snickered. Alex and Luke shared a look before Alex turned to Reggie.

“Dude, that’s because the school has lacrosse games on Thursdays. No one wants to be here when our team is on a winning streak.”

Reggie thought a moment before laughing at himself.

“Oh yeah! I completely forgot. Then Dianne must have forgot too.”

Luke, Alex and Bobby all turned back to Reggie.

Luke spoke up this time.

“Dianne as in Dianne Parker?”

Reggie nodded. Luke’s eyes widened.

“Dianne Parker, as in friends with-“

Reggie smiled. “Yep. Y/n y/l/n.”

Bobby turned to Luke.

“Isn’t that the girl you’ve liked since-“

“-freshman year. Yeah,” Luke sighed.

He turned to Alex, but Alex waved him off.

“Even I have to admit the puppy dog eyes you used to get around her.”

Luke smiled softly, falling back into a memory.

You and he had been lab partners in Chemistry your freshman year, as well as shared a homeroom together. This was back before he was introduced to the music that saved his life, so he was still a shy little kid. He hadn’t found the passion that spurred him to connect to people. You, on the other hand, were everything he wished he could be: kind, smart, and courageous.

You weren’t quite an extrovert, but you always made sure others felt included and valued. When someone fell quiet during group discussion, you encouraged them to speak up and always made sure they knew you valued their input. When he would inevitably get an answer wrong in class, you would quietly show him the correct answer and explain it to him in a way that he didn’t feel stupid. And you would regularly invite people eating alone to join your small group of friends.

There came a point where Luke’s parents pushed him to get a tutor because of his failing grades, and you offered immediately after hearing about it. Every Tuesday and Thursday, you both would meet in the public library after school. As time went on, Luke grew to enjoy your time together and even grew a crush, but he never thought you would like the little shy kid that couldn’t speak up for himself. Then his sophomore year, his parents gifted him with his first guitar and it changed him forever. He connected with people in a way he never had before. By the time he worked up the courage to tell you how he really felt, you were in your first relationship with Danny Fenton, the star quarterback.

Luke just had to watch as you walked with him everyday and cheered him on the loudest on Friday night football games. Then, you had a messy break up. Not even a week later, a rumor spread that it was because you had cheated and were pregnant. It was a nasty, false rumor, but enough people believed it that you moved away your junior year.

In the meantime, Luke had already formed a band and was rising through the social ranks. When he learned you had moved back your senior year, he flipped. Still, he could never find the nerve to talk to you again, and you kept your head low to avoid the social radar.

That all changed today. The boys cornered Reggie.

“Is she coming today?” Luke asked.

Reggie gulped, his eyes darting between the three faces in front of him.

“I-I don’t know! Dianne just stopped me in world history and started asking about the band and Luke and-“

“She asked about me?”

“Well, yeah and she was twirling her hair and you know I have a thing about hair-“

“Did she mention anything about y/n?” Alex piped in.

“Well, she said that she and a friend wanted to watch practice today-“

“A friend? I’m sure it’s her,” Luke spoke to himself, running his fingers through the scruff on the back of his neck.

“Dude, are you gonna be okay?” Bobby asked, the three other boys staring nervously at Luke’s retreated figure.

He turned slowly, his deep hazel eyes wide in uncertainty.

“Well,” he said, taking in a breath, his shoulders dropping in finality, “it’s now or never.”

•••••

“We’re here!” Dianne cheered as her mom’s van screeched to a halt in the drive of the studio garage.

Forget the butterflies, hornets filled your stomach now. And they were angrily looking for a way out.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked weerily, holding your stomach.

“Absolutely!” Dianne beamed, turning to you from the front seat.

Your eyes finally caught the obvious problem outside your window.

“Um, Di?”

“Hmm?”

You blanched.

“Where is everyone?”

“Oh. My. Gosh. Well, what do you know! I must have completely forgot that everyone goes to the lacrosse games on Thursdays! Looks like we’re the only ones to watch today!”

It took all the zen you had not to throttle her little neck.

“Why do you hate me?” You cried out.

She giggled. “‘S all love, darling.”

“Dianne,” you begged, “you know our history.”

“And I know your chemistry too.”

You let out a small wail and looked out the tinted window at the studio garage. The doors were closed, but you could hear the muffled sound of guitars and drums warming up still.

Dianne had already stepped out of the van.

“Y/n, c’mon. We’re already late.”

“That was your idea!”

She held out her hand, giving you a pleading look.

“Di, I don’t know if I’m ready to face him again. So much had happened since-“

“Since you realized you liked him? And Danny got jealous and started that rumor?”

You nodded.

“Darling, that is the past. This is the now.”

“But what if-“

“Can I let you in on a little secret?”

You took a deep breath.

“Yeah?”

A small smile made its way onto her face.

“Reggie told me that Luke still has it bad for you.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You’re lying.”

She shook her head, smiling.

“I’m completely serious. That’s one of the reasons that Reggie was so excited to have us come today.”

You rolled your eyes.

“And what was the other reason?”

Dianne blushed.

“I may have told him that I would make out with him under the bleachers tomorrow at lunch.”

You smiled softly at her.

You were still a scarlet letter when you came back to school, so you couldn’t find anyone willing to be seen with your reputation. That was until you met Dianne, who was known as a serial home-wrecker. That wasn’t true, of course, but a bended truth of a spited ex-girlfriend. Still, she’d had more romantic exploits than you could count on your fingers and toes.

“C’mon, (y/n). Prince Charming is waitin’ for ya.”

You blushed as you made your way out.

•••••

There was a knock on the studio doors and three heads snapped up.

Alex, Reggie and Bobby all looked to each other and Luke.

Luke was facing a nook in the back, his headphones playing from a Walkman. He was still trying to see if he could learn the riff from Wonderwall by Oasis before you came in, but none of the boys wanted to be the one to nudge him with the way he was practically vibrating in his seat.

They shared a silent look before Reggie nodded knowingly.

“Rock, paper, scissors, boys.”

Alex turned to him, blinking.

“Reggie, there’s three of us. That’s not gonna- ok.”

Alex walked up to the door and opened it to reveal you and Dianne, both smiling nervously.

“Hellooo, Dianne,” Reggie crooned as Dianne waved at him, a suave smile painting his features. Dianne giggled beside you and you found yourself bristling with nerves. 

“Uh, hey, y/n,” Alex greeted you warmly, nudging Bobby forward as well to greet you. 

You pressed your lips in an awkward smile and forced your hand up into a wave. Your mind began to get caught in a cycle.

I should not have come I should not have come I should not have come-

“Hey, y/n, welcome to our practice. Because you both made the wonderful choice to come watch today, we have decided to gift you with free merch!” Reggie grinned, winking at Dianne. 

“Reggie, all our merch is free-” Alex started, but Reggie pressed a finger to his lips, pressing them to the side as Alex glared at him. Bobby laughed and you quickly joined in, eager to rid yourself of your nerves. You all began to fall into comfortable banter and the boys were hilarious. Dianne was flirtingly feeling up Reggie’s bicep, asking him about his workout schedule. 

“Oh, yeah,” Reggie said, his voice jokingly low and gruff. He flexed his arm. “I have quite a regime.” 

Alex scoffed. “What regime? Your type of workout is chasing down the ice cream truck and lifting meatball subs to your mouth.”

“Hey,” Reggie said, turning to Alex with a look of betrayal on his face, “it is an intense regime none the less!”

Suddenly, there was a creaking sound from the back corner.

You stiffened.

The boys had forgotten about the tense guitarist behind them, who had been blocked from your and Dianne’s view by their figures.

A footstep. Another. Then another.

The boys parted and your heart stopped.

Two perfectly sparkling hazel eyes looked up at you through brown tasseled hair. And there it was, that beaming smile that warmed every inch of your body.

You were thrown back three years to the vision of that shy boy with a nervous bounce asking you for help with number three.

That same boy stood before you now, gazing at you like you were a triple-chocolate sundae surprise, a brand new guitar, an open stage, a raging crowd, and every answer he would ever need, all wrapped up in one person.

 “Hello there, Sunshine,” he said, at last.

[bloededhoine]

I notice a lot of fans don't really bring up how Roche uses Ves for her "feminine qualities (for lack of a better word)." I hate that in Witcher 2 he sends her to Loredo dressed as a prostitute and it is implied she does this sort of thing regularly? I do know that Roche cares for her but sometimes his behavior needs a reprimand. Do you have any thoughts on this?

i absolutely love questions like this because they really make me think. plus, this is one of the rare posts that's a system special! give @claire-verlaine your love. she's simply amazing.

first things first, spoiler warning for chapter 2 of roche's path in w2 and big trigger warning for discussions of sex work, sex trafficking, rape, war, unequal power dynamics, and brief mentions of underage prostitution. also this is really fucking long. sorry.

let's start with the geekiness: prostitution as a cover for espionage has a long and awesome, albeit poorly documented, history. it was really big with the confederacy (read: racists) during american civil war, and while their motives were undoubtedly awful, these spies were simply amazing. rose o'neal greenhow was recognized by the confederate president for her role in their victory at the first battle of bull run. belle boyd seduced a union (read: racists but more covert) general, found out the date and location of the next war council, drilled a hole in the floor in the meeting room, and sat in the crawl space and took notes of the entire thing.

although there were many successful female union spies, most of them didn't use sex. there's no clear consensus on why this was, but it's entirely possible that such enlightened progressives figured sex work to be demeaning. clearly, union men were avid consumers, but also thought women didn't know any better and needed to be protected from men who would exploit them. meanwhile, these awful southern racists had no problem with "exploiting" women, but inadvertently granted them a shit ton of political agency and prestige!

this all brings us to our next point, which is that nothing is inherently wrong with sex work, although it does put workers in incredibly vulnerable positions. for every spy that successfully used prostitution as a cover, there were likely many others that failed. without even considering the consequences of being discovered as an enemy spy, sex trafficking was (and continues to be) a very real risk for anyone in that situation*.

nearly the whole history of sex work legislation shows how little people, especially upper class men, understand it. the spies in the civil war were both lucky and unlucky in that they operated quite independently. they didn't need to take orders from someone who was entirely unqualified to give them, but they also had no safety net in case something went wrong. if belle boyd so much as sneezed while eavesdropping, there would be almost no chance she'd get back home alive.

however dangerous this job was, most lady spies during the civil war began spying before they were even recruited by the army. these women weren't doing it on anyone's orders, they were doing it because they had the skills and believed in the cause (remember that in this case that belief was not an admirable quality).

rose o'neal's (possible) handler, thomas jordan, had a huge network of spies, and all evidence points to him giving her way more independence than usual. thomas jordan wasn't who rose went to for orders, he was who she submitted her reports to. in my opinion, the sex she had to obtain this information was consensual.

ves' scenario is obviously different in regard to her chain of command. she is going into sexual situations under the direct orders of a (male) commanding officer. just writing this has the alarm bells going off in my head. what good is having someone to get you out of a dangerous situation when they were the one to put you in that situation in the first place? but this is where we get to what's special about roche. he is, as they say, not like other girls.

it's no secret how much roche loves his team. when the blue stripes are killed he says that everything he loved died. if ves dies in an eye for an eye he is absolutely devastated. the blue stripes aren't just roche's subordinates, they're his family. when you see the stripes outside of battle the camaraderie is even clearer: they fist fight their commander and each other to blow off steam, they play games, have contests, etc. ves' knowledge of roche's dark and troubled past is more proof that the trust goes both ways.

roche would never put his family in an unnecessarily dangerous situation, nor would he have them do something he personally wouldn't do. even if it's just from a morality perspective (like double crossing radovid for the man that had foltest killed), roche goes it alone.

so, we know roche is a (compratively) good guy. but we also know that intention, often, doesn't mean shit. i mentioned earlier how most of the people making decisions for sex workers have little to no idea of what they are doing. it doesn't help that their intentions are all about controlling (mostly) women and getting rich in the process, but even the best meaning legislator could unknowingly do a lot of damage. roche is way more involved in ves' missions than thomas jordan was in rose o'neal's, but i think that's a good thing.

as i'm sure you lovely witcher connoisseurs know, roche is a literal whoreson. he is very aware of what goes on in brothels, and, depending on how you read into his relationship with foltest, what it's like to not really be able to say no. if anything, roche's involvement here is a good thing, since he has years of first hand experience with exactly what ves is going through, but without the safety net of an elite team that loves him and are frighteningly good soldiers.

plus, ves is far more capable than your average soldier, even in a blue stripes-calibre group. she's an absolute badass. most women who used prostitution as a cover for spying went into it with no combat or espionage training whatsoever. they knew how to be personable, how to be seductive, and how to use men's biases to get them to spill all their secrets. clearly, this knowledge served them well, but what about the occasions when it didn't? they were not fighters. at all. ves has both the "feminine charms" and the terrifying combat skills. of course, these scenarios usually have her acting as a spy, not an assassin, so those skills are more of a failsafe, but it's still very important to her own safety and the morality of the whole situation.

TL;DR

to sum up, anon, i do agree with (what i assume to be) your reasoning, but not the conclusion you came to. if someone told me an older male superior was having a younger female subordinate act as a prostitute to gain intel during a time of war, i'd be ready to start cutting off dicks.

but that's not the whole story. the older male superior has a personal background in (possibly) coerced and underaged sex work. the younger female subordinate is a highly skilled soldier, and second in command of an elite unit. both of them have a very close familial relationship developed over several years. a similar relationship exists between the the other members of the unit in their command. personally, i think those factors make this a completely new situation.

that being said, i'm certain that my beliefs aren't the only ones out there. as long as we can all agree that the base scenario is unequivocally wrong, there should be absolutely no reason to (civilly) not discuss whether or not the special circumstances make it okay.

* i'll take this as an opportunity to say that the enforcement of anti-sex work laws force sex workers to be either a criminal, a victim, or dead. these laws are the problem, not the solution. the solution would be supporting unions for sex workers, giving them the same legal protections given to any other worker, and treating them like humans, not statistics.

[cybernaght]

Guardian rewatch: episode 4

While patrolling at night in civvies, Shen Wei gets caught by Zhao Yunlan and his merry band of misfits. You’d think that he would maybe quickly morph into his black-cloaked persona, because we know that the can just transform into Hei Pao Shi, magical girl style. Instead of summoning that disguise however, he dons his glasses (a very different kind of mask, but a mask nonetheless), and turns around, bracing himself for what’s to come. 

This is going to be fun. 

(Spoilers for the future episodes)

Let’s look at the situation from Zhao Yunlan’s perspective. What does he really know about Shen Wei? The man is polite, but strangely intense. He is undeniably intelligent, both learned and perceptive, but he is also way too knowledgable on the topic of alien-mutant-demihuman/supernatural for a civilian. He also, as far as Zhao Yunlan knows, walked away unscathed from at least three fights, two of which should have definitely been lethal. He could fall off the roof, and not even look disheveled afterwards. After being connected with two cases, he has now been lurking at a different crime scene entirely. And with all that, Shen Wei is also courageous, kind, compassionate, and understanding. He pushes back when Yunlan gets into his space. I don’t think there is a single moment, not even in this, very soft, episode, when Zhao Yunlan does not know that there is more to Shen Wei than meets the eye. He just doesn’t want professor Shen to be the big bad, and thinking he might be one is making chief Zhao worried and confused. 

Back at the SID interrogation room, Shen Wei is preparing to evade enough so that he does not have to lie too much. Thankfully, he is good at this sort of thing.

Part 1. Zhu Hong.

Zhu Hong is the first to interrogate Shen Wei, and her approach is by the book. She is impassive, but not unfriendly. She asks reasonable questions, such as “why were you so far away from your place of work and your abode in the middle of a night?” and “aren’t you a little bit too composed in face of death and spooky things for a professor?” Those are technically right things to ask. It’s exactly what should he asked in this scenario. Shen Wei, being much more of a sly bastard than he was letting on, turns it around completely and instead of answering anything plainly, talks about the Snake Tribe, implying that Zhu Hong must be a disappointment to her people. 

Zhu Hong storms off. Instead of being concerned, this time Zhao Yunlan is... endeared at the power move of cosmic proportions. It’s almost like he enjoys this man’s ability to use people’s weaknesses against them.

Part 2: Chu Shuzhi

Lao Chu approached the problem of Shen Wei by trying to scare him: he brings in his brother/puppet, and pretty much ignores the man. For Shen Wei this is an easy one, which is extremely unfair. He knows Chu Shuzhi and his past, which means does not need to find an opening; he just pounces right away, commenting on how Chu’s puppet seems alive, even trying to grab at it. His willingness to exploit his knowledge of his colleague’s dark past is kind of eerie.

“You confidence and composure remind me of someone I know”, comments Chu Shuzhi. And now, now Shen Wei purses his lips. He thinks, as do the viewers, that he must be speaking of Hei Pao Shi. But then Chu Shuzhi states that that other man is much more worthy than Shen Wei, we are to understand that he is talking is about Zhao Yunlan. Shen Wei stares at the chief through the mirrored glass, noting that whoever that person is, they must be truly righteous. 

Lao Chu very rarely speaks highly of his chief, so it’s nice to see some of that admiration here. If you squint, his comment could even be read as protective: he is neither deaf, nor stupid, and Zhao Yunlan must talk about Shen Wei a lot. 

Part 3: Zhao Yunlan

Zhao Yunlan does not try to intimidate, pressure, or follow any reasonable protocol. Instead, he just asks Shen Wei to be honest with him, and say whether there is a connection between him and the cases. Shen Wei startles at this, his eyes going big and vulnerable, and does, in fact, tell him the truth. Well. Sort of the truth. It’s closer to the truth than it is to a lie. It’s complicated. 

It’s hard to say for sure whether this perfect kicked puppy expression is an act. I, for one, choose to believe that he just sometimes cannot control his face when he’s in the vicinity of the man who will become his Kunlun. 

Zhao Yunlan counts his eyelashes, and lets him go. Just like that. No surveillance, no further questions. Shen Wei is just free to leave. 

The following day marks Guo Changcheng and Chu Shizhu being on the case together for the first time. 

It’s not remarkable, apart from being the first very tiny step from the least likely working duo to the most important people in each other’s lives. They would not get along for a while, however. It will take time for Guo Changcheng to find resilience through his weaknesses, and for Chu Shizhu to start admiring this young man’s ability to throw himself into danger he cannot possible handle. 

As this happens, we get to meet a righteous youth which is Lin Yusen. He lost the girl he likes to the face snatcher, and is prepared to do a lot of stupid things to avenge her. He’s noble, brave, extremely reckless, and a bit of an idiot, all of which are characteristics which should actually make him very suitable for the SID. I believe Zhao Yunlan when he agrees to take the boy on board after graduation. It’s a shame that he needed to die to create a plot device. 

Zhao Yunlan and Lin Yusen run into Shen Wei. Or rather, Shen Wei plants himself right next to SID, in order to calmly ask to tag along. He does not actually have a good reason to do so, I don’t think. It makes more sense to get involved as Hei Pao Shi than as Shen Wei, especially if he wants to keep pretending that he is a normal human. 

What Zhao Yunlan should so is keep the man he arrested the night before very far away from the case. What Zhao Yunlan does do is express vague concern for Shen Wei’s well-being, and then agree for him to join in, because, apparently, when Shen Wei is determined, there is no way to refuse him. Yunlan’s got it really really bad for this man, and it shows. He is rewarded with one of Shen Wei’s little secret smiles. 

Okay, now, can we talk about how they are literally touching as they walk by each other? 

I thought maybe this was a forced perspective thing, but no, they walk perfectly side by side, and so close their arms are rubbing together as they do so. It’s been a very long time since I have walked with anyone closely side by side (2021 feels), but I’m pretty certain you can’t achieve this accidentally. 

They find the victim who is not the victim, and Shen Wei is jumped by the perpetrator who is not the victim’s boyfriend, getting scratched hard enough to draw blood. Unfortunately, by the time Zhao Yunlan shows up, his skin has already repaired itself, leaving Shen Wei to pretend like the blood, crusting over what clearly used to be scratches, is not his. 

You’d think that while spending several decades pretending to be human you would learn to not accidentally heal yourself. 

The perfect “what the hell are you?” face. 

Instead of addressing it, Zhao Yunlan moves to shout his head off at Lin Yusen for getting involved, even though he was not the one who got attacked. I love the double standards at play. Shen Wei, in his mild, compassionate way, references the youth of his own name, reminding him to rely on other people for strength. I am sure this is a literary reference, incomprehensible to a foreign viewer; it sounds insightful and beautiful. 

As with many things, Shen Wei will learn a wrong lesson from this in the end, hyper focusing on his name, rather than remembering that going at it alone can get you killed. Shen Wei’s special power is learning, apart from when he is learning the wrong thing.*

As the two men proceed to interrogate the woman, and Zhao Yunlan figures out that the victim is not the victim via the misogyny: he does not think that a young woman could fend off an attack, or that she would be comfortable strolling around the day after. He makes his conclusions in front of slender Shen Wei, who has been attacked by things and people seemingly stronger than him and shook them off with ease. 

The thing is, Zhao Yunlan is not an idiot, he remembers that Shen Wei should have died on him at least twice, and is staring intently at where blood should definitely be soaking Shen Wei’s jumper. He is not really letting him off the hook for this. But he must see as plainly as we do that they work well together, and he makes a clear, deliberate decision to trust the man either way. He proceeds to discuss the case with Shen Wei, who also concludes that the victim is not the victim.

It’s lovely to see SID squad in action, staking out the perpetrators. Zhu Hong is set up as bait, with Da Qing and Chu Shuzhi having her back, and Lin Jing being their eye in the sky. There is a strange anti-yashou thing happening with the team however, which I find quite hard to understand. Lin Jing is giggling at her applying makeup, Da Qing saying that he is excited to see her pretending to be a lady. Come on now, guys, I know she is probably eating raw meet in her spare time, but she is also a beautiful, elegant young woman. I mean, look at her! 

While the team is staking out the Undergrounder perpetrator, their boss is having a lovely evening stroll through the park with Shen Wei, talking about merits of intimate friendship. We can assume that they spent the rest of the day together.

“Does Wei in your name have a deeper meaning?”

“It does. Someone very important gave me that name.”

I assume Zhao Yunlan hears the same thing in this as every sane person would: “my parents gave this name to me when I was born”, as opposed to “the love of my life who looks like you, sounds like you, acts like you, and has a thing for candy, gave me this name ten thousand years ago”. So, Yunlan starts talking about his family, makes a comment that his mom would have loved Shen Wei. The conversation is quiet and honest. There is some flirting, naturally, but there is no digging and no games; just the two men getting to know each other. 

Zhu Jiu ruins their stroll, and at the same time the face stealer and her boyfriend, Jia Hui, walk around the surveillance, capturing Zhu Hong. The team then does not call their Chief, presumably because they don’t want to disrupt his date. 

Shen Wei’s solution to throwing Zhao Yunlan off his scent is pretending to be hurt once more: this time drawing blood by prickling his finger on one of Lin Yusen’s trap. While it will not work in the long run, Shen Wei breathes a sigh of relief at Yunlan’s overreaction, and agrees to go to A&E with him to get a tetanus shot, as if it’s a thing people do every time they have a minor cut. 

We then meet Wang Xianyang pre-evil, and his pregnant wife pre-dead. Good times.

Guardian’s insistence on making Zhu Hong a damsel in distress is slightly grating. She should not need help to be rescued: she is not a human, and she shown to have a number of powers in this very episode. I almost wish her reliance one Zhao Yunlan could be read as an excuse to be close: I would prefer that to her being side-lined because she happens to be a woman.

If those recaps continue, I will start focusing more on fight sequences when they happen, because one of my jobs is in stage violence. This episode, we only get one fight, however, and it’s only four moves long. It’s more of a capture, really: Chu Shuzhi blocks a left hook and puts Jia Hui’s arm in a lock, then does the same thing on the other side. We are to understand that Jia Hui never stood a chance here. This lock would have looked better and more vicious if the elbow was more bent, putting the hand higher on the back. Also, continuity, what continuity? 

Shen Wei, who probably teleported out of the A&E, goes back to patrol the streets against Zhu Jiu, still in civvies, because being caught once was not enough for him. After a brief stand-off, he fails to capture the baby goth villain, who taunts Shen Wei with his only visible weakness: Zhao Yunlan.

Being distracted thus, Hei Pao Shi does not arrive in time to save Lin Yunsen, who runs in to save the SID team from the face stealer about to take them all out. On top of that, Hei Pao Shi also informs Zhao Yunlan that he’s taking the young man’s body away with the perpetrators, citing the peace treaty violation on his part. Needless to say, Yunlan is actually incredibly angry and upset at this turn of events, even though he probably could have summoned Hei Pao Shi if he wanted to; and must know that the Envoy is just doing his literal job. As he is storming off, Shen Wei stares at his back with naked longing. 

Zhao Yunlan does not know that Shen Wei took Lin Yunsen away to spare his feelings as the young man was forcefully turned into a mixed-energy bomb. This episode is when we discover that being mixing dark and light energies together leads to adverse effects for the carrier, resulting in a spectacular explosion. Shen Wei will use this knowledge in the future in ways I don’t care to remind myself of. That said, I do like is well-structured narratives, with a decent amount of foreshadowing, and elements are set-up in good time, so it’s satisfying - in an abstract, detached, sort of way -  to see that that particular plot device is already present in the story. 

At the end, we are treated to another sneak preview of the past: this time with the naming scene. Shen Wei vouches to keep his promise he once gave Kunlun to bravely march onwards, despite everything, and chooses to step aside. For now. 

(By which I mean while he will temporarily stop inviting himself along to solve cases with Zhao Yunlan, he will still get an apartment across the hall from the other man to better stalk him.)

I would also like to note with a hint of sadness that the first onslaught of dubbing glitches happens this episode. I thought those would not start until later in the show. 

Next up, Episode 5: The Butler Did Not Do It

*I don’t actually remember if his special power being learning is something explicitly stated in the show canon, or if I have just absorbed this through fandom osmosis. 

[justatiredpotato]

Set Me Free | Chapter 4

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 5,000~  Total: 40,000~

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, implied abuse and sexual exploitation

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: In this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji

You woke up the next morning delightfully warm. You shifted to tuck your nose back under the edge of the blanket, but found you were curling into someone’s back instead. Startled, you pushed yourself up on one elbow and blinked at the figure tucked against you. Your arm was wrapped around Yoongi’s waist, legs tangled together. You blushed and quickly detached yourself from him. He let out an almost childlike whimper and turned to try and pull you close again, but you tucked the blankets around him and moved out of his reach. How could you invade his space like that? You must’ve drank too much.

The air was cold even through your sweats as you climbed out of bed. It was still early morning. You never slept soundly when you drank. Figuring you wouldn’t be getting much more rest if you tried to go back to sleep, you started getting ready for the day. You quietly pulled out a simple fitted black dress and a baggy cardigan, creeping into the bathroom to slip them on over a pair of knit tights. After grabbing your work shoes you exited the bedroom, closing the door as quietly as you could so as not to wake a still sleeping Yoongi. The shop opened in about two hours, so you figured you could get some of the office work done before then.

You settled on the couch with your laptop and a notebook that held your accounts information, spending about a half hour making sure everything was balanced properly. You decided to spend the rest of the time reviewing your inventory and preparing the order for your supplier that month. As you stood to move to the kitchen, the bedroom door creaked open. A bleary-eyed Yoongi emerged, hair sticking up in all directions, partially obscuring his ears.

“Where’d you go?” he croaked, voice hoarse from crying the evening before. “Why didn’t you stay?” His eyes widened as he took you in, already in your work attire.

“Am I late?” he asked, suddenly awake.

“No! No, you’re off today.”

“Really? Why? I can work,” he said, almost sounding hurt.

“I have Jimin coming in today, don’t worry. Why don’t you work on your music today?”

He nodded, pondering. He seemed to acknowledge that it would be nice having some time to himself after yesterday's incident. You didn’t mention the fact that you were trying to hold off a bit longer before introducing him to the other boys. They were a bit energetic for Yoongi at the moment. You feared that Jimin’s affectionate nature would stress him out.

“Okay, well call me if it gets crowded. I can get ready and come out,” he eventually said.

“Thanks.” You smiled, walking over to ruffle his hair. “But don’t worry, this is my job.”

He mumbled some kind of acknowledgement, ducking his head but also pushing into your hand so you scratched his ears some more. 

“Are you coming back here for lunch?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ll eat with you. I usually go at two, can you wait that long?” He nodded. “Alright, I’ll be back then.” You turned and headed out front as he grabbed his bag and the bundle of papers you’d salvaged.

“Ah!” you exclaimed, turning on your heel. He jumped, looking at you questioningly. You hurried over to the bookshelf and pulled a notebook off of it. “Use this,” you offered, holding it out to Yoongi.

“Thanks,” he said, flipping through it and giving you a gummy grin. You suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to curl up next to him and ask him about his music. It felt like an actual tug at your heart, wanting to know the thoughts and feelings that he’d put to paper. You pushed the thought away, pulling your laptop closer to your chest.

“You’re welcome,” you said, turning to continue your way out front.

You went over inventory, finishing up about a half hour before opening. The order could be written up that night or the next morning so it could go out on Friday. You put your laptop aside and went out to the counter, making your regular coffee and Yoongi’s. You also made breakfast for the two of you.

He glanced up when you entered the room. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He flashed a smile, pulling one side of his headphones off his ear.

“Thanks!” he said, already going for a sip of his coffee.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you at lunch,” you said, already turning to leave.

“You aren’t staying for breakfast?” he asked a little sadly.

“I have to go let Jimin in and open,” you answered over your shoulder. “But it’ll be lunchtime soon. And maybe you can show me some of your music after I finish up tonight?” you asked hopefully.

“Sure,” he replied, running a hand through his hair and smoothing over his ears.

Jimin was already waiting outside when you returned to the cafe. He waved cheerfully as you jogged to unlock the door for him.

“Noona!” He tumbled into your arms as soon as the door was open. You laughed, squeezing him tight and rocking side-to-side with the hug.

“How’s my Chim Chim this morning?” you asked, burying your face in his hair as he held you. To anyone else you might’ve looked like a couple, but Jimin just really liked holding people and being held, always had. It seemed to help him heal when he first arrived at Jin’s shelter, and you had been one of the first people he grew close to.

“I’m good, I missed you though!” he answered, finally pulling away a little. “You spent the whole weekend with your new kitty friend!” he pouted.

“We had a few things to do so he could settle in.” You laughed at his obvious jealousy. As excited as he was about another cat hybrid in the family, you knew he’d be jealous too.

“Is that why you smell like him? Because it smells like you’ve been all over each other,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you. You chuckled awkwardly pushing him away and rolling your eyes.

“We’re staying in the same tiny two room apartment. And I gave him my bed the first day, so that’s probably why.”

Jimin nodded dubiously, slipping past you and inside. He headed to the kitchen to put his backpack away while you locked the door so you could finish preparing for the day. Jimin took down the chairs and straightened the tables while you made him a coffee.

“You hungry?” you asked as you put the finishing touch on his mocha.

“Nah, I ate with Tae before I left.” He came back to the counter, accepted the beverage gratefully and took a sip.

“How’s he doing at the shelter?” you asked as you straightened cups and checked the register.

“He seems to like it. There are… hard parts of the job. But I can tell he feels good about helping people like he is there.” A sad smile flickered over his face. “He’s really strong, you know? Staying there, seeing all those things.”

You put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “You know there’s nothing wrong with you choosing to do something else? Not everyone is suited to a job like that,” you said gently. “I don’t think I could do it.”

“But you are doing it!” he said confidently. “With your new kitty friend. You’re totally helping him!”

You laughed, releasing him to go unlock the door. “He’s not ‘my new kitty friend.’ His name is Yoongi. Yoongi-hyung, to you,” you scolded. There was no real firmness in your tone though.

“Another hyung?” Jimin whined. “Man, I wanted someone to boss aro- I mean take care of.” He seemed pleased with his joke.

“Chim,” you turned your best older-sister-look on him. “Play nice.”

He pouted again. “I’m always nice!” he argued, but you could hear the barely-suppressed giggle in his voice. “When can I meet him?”

“I’m not sure yet. Whenever he’s ready, I guess.”

Jimin nodded understandingly. 

The morning passed relatively slowly. The festival only made things slightly more busy than any other Wednesday. Around one, you ran back to your house to make Jimin lunch and brought it back out front for him. You made him eat in the kitchen. He complained, but you explained that Yoongi was working back in your apartment and you didn’t want to interrupt him.

You slipped away for your own lunch a little after two. Jimin was clearly miffed that you were allowed to disrupt Yoongi’s work. But the sulking you’d have to endure was all worth it when Yoongi’s face lit up at your arrival. He already had stuff out to make sandwiches, slicing up tomatoes and cheese.

“I’m not a great cook, but I figured I could make this for you,” he said sheepishly, gesturing to the sandwich that was already made on the counter next to him. You grinned, running over to wrap him in a side-hug. Once he finished his sandwich you settled at the table to eat. Your break seemed to be gone in a blink as you chatted about what Yoongi had been working on (he said it was a secret), and you told him about your latest dumb customer (this Karen who’d come in demanding a fat-free breve, claiming she got one at Barstucks all the time). His laugh gave you this fluttering in your stomach, leaving a warm and cozy feeling that you chose not to read into. 

You glanced up at the clock, cursing under your breath. You stood quickly, the chair scraping a bit on the floor. You’d taken an extra 15 minutes.

“I’ve gotta go, Yoongi,” you said, already heading for the door. He hurried after you, catching your sleeve and wrapping you in a quick hug, so light you barely processed it had happened.

“I’ll show you some of my lyrics tonight,” he said. He waved you off as if you weren’t just going out to the front part of the building. You waved back, chuckling at the silliness of it.

When you returned to the front counter, Jimin fixed you with a questioning look, eyes sharp.

“Yeah, he’s totally not glued to you,” he said with a sniff. He rolled his eyes, laughing as he no doubt smelled Yoongi on your sweater from the hug a moment before. “You’re so whipped.”

You grumbled but didn’t argue, knowing he would only take a stronger denial as confirmation. You weren’t trying to have him give the other boys the wrong idea. You would never take advantage of Yoongi by trying anything with him. A customer mercifully pulled you from your ethical quandaries about relationships with dependent hybrids.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

By the time the last customer left and you and Jimin started cleaning up, you were eager to go check on Yoongi.

“You can go, Noona. I’ll finish up here,” Jimin offered.

“What? Why? I can help you finish up.”

“Just go see him. I’m sure he’s been waiting for you since the second you left anyway.” He snickered, eyes scrunching up with his smile.

You blushed, cursing hybrid noses and their ability to see right through people. You turned your back on him, energetically scrubbing at the counter. “Don’t be silly. If anything he’s waiting for dinner.”

“Well then you better not keep him waiting. Jin-hyung said he’s way skinny,” Jimin said.

You turned back to him, brows raised. “Jin told you about Yoongi?”

“Just a little. He said we should all help you so he can get better.” Jimin was already at your back, gently guiding you toward the kitchen. He pushed you through the door, toward your apartment. “Go take care of your boyfriend. I’ll lock up before I go.”

The kitchen door thudded shut behind you as he went back to cleaning up. If your face wasn’t red before it certainly was now. You took a second, hoping the embarrassment would fade along with the color in your cheeks, before continuing into the apartment. You were certainly surprised by what greeted you.

“Yoongi…?” you called, noting the set table with a couple dishes of food already on it. You started toward the kitchen just as Yoongi’s head popped up from behind the island, making you jump.

“You’re back!” He smiled nervously at you, a couple of glasses in his hand.

“What’s all this?” You reached the table and looked over the spread: spaghetti with meatballs, garlic bread, and a shockingly pretty salad.

“Ah, this?” he said, as if you might be talking about something else. “I just figured that since you were working all day I could do something around the house. I cleaned a bit, but I thought it might be nice if you didn’t have to make dinner. I hope that’s okay.”

“Okay? This is amazing!” You passed the table in favor of going and wrapping Yoongi in a tight hug. “I haven’t had someone make dinner for me in a long time! If I ever let Namjoon cook he’d burn down the house.” You felt Yoongi’s chuckle rumble in his chest, a faint rumble of a purr already starting as well.

“Well, I didn’t burn anything. I just hope it tastes alright.” He pulled away and led you over to the table. “I tried to do it just like the video, so I think it isn’t bad.”

“I’m sure it’s delicious!” You took your seat and watched as Yoongi returned to the kitchen for the glasses he’d been getting.

“The guy on Viewtube said wine goes with this. Does that sound good?”

“Sure! Whatever the chef recommends.” You eyed the food, and noted that Yoongi had even put on music in the background. Soft piano music played from his laptop on the counter. Yoongi grabbed the bottle of wine out of the fridge—which happened to be the only wine you had—and joined you at the table. He removed the cork and poured you each a glass, which you smiled and took.

You weren’t a big wine fan in all honesty. The bottle was just the remainder of a bottle Jimin had brought over a while ago. But you took a sip anyway, wanting to cooperate with what he’d prepared. Yoongi took the plate in front of you and started to serve the food, but you reached out to stop him.

“You don’t have to, I can get it myself,” you said.

“It’s okay, I want to do it.” His gummy smile made you sit back down. You smiled as he spun the pasta, something he must’ve picked up from the Viewtube tutorial. He set your plate in front of you with a hint of a proud smile, then made a plate for himself. 

You glanced at him to find he was watching expectantly, clearly wanting to see your reaction. So you spun your noodles and took a bite. Your eyebrows rose as you looked at him, chewing for a moment.

“Edible?” he asked.

“Very edible. Delicious actually!”

He beamed at the praise, taking a bit himself. He gave a thoughtful hum, considering for a moment. “Not bad. I think the sauce should be thicker though? The guy in the video’s sauce was definitely thicker.”

“Maybe you can tweak the recipe a bit to get it just how you like it.” You smiled at him encouragingly. “I think you have real talent for this, Yoon.”

“Thanks, noona. Maybe I’ll try something new my next day off.”

“That sounds great. I appreciate this so much, truly.” You ate in pleasant silence for a moment before a thought struck you. “Did you get to work on your music today? I hope you didn’t just do housework.”

“Yeah, I got some stuff done. I can show you some tracks I’ve made after dinner, if you’re interested.”

“I would love that!”

“Actually… This is something I made.”

You blinked at him, not quite getting it. “This?”

“Yeah, the piano music. It’s all my stuff.” He nodded towards his beat up laptop, still playing soft melodies from the counter.

“All these songs have been yours?” 

He nodded, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah. I mean, none of them are finished or anything. I don’t really have the tools I need to make a polished track. These ones don’t even have lyrics yet. And I don’t know any vocalists to do the melody. But I thought they would be good enough for backgr-”

“Yoongi.” You interrupted his ramble. “They’re beautiful. All of them. I had no idea you wrote stuff like this.”

The way you looked at him, truly amazed, made him shift in his seat. He didn’t know what to do with a compliment to his work, which was so dear to him. He cleared his throat before he spoke, not wanting to sound too... He didn’t even know what. “Thanks,” he finally said before quickly returning to his meal. 

Once you’d both finished dinner you helped him clear the table and do the dishes. As you put the last plate in the cupboard you glanced at him expectantly. He snorted, grabbing his laptop and heading to the living room. You smiled and hurried after him. He opened his laptop, and seemed to steel himself, before turning to you.

“Now remember, these aren’t finished or polished or anything. I don’t have the tools or the skill to really make these good so don’t-”

“Yoongi,” you whined. “Stop selling yourself short. I’ve heard you perform. You’re really talented. And the songs you played during dinner? Amazing. So stop dissing yourself!”

Yoongi’s serious expression turned into a smirk. “Dissing myself?” The smirk turned into a grin, and you couldn’t help but start laughing. Any nerves he felt about showing you his work faded into the background as he laughed with you. Once you caught your breath, he played the first song he wanted to show you. You bopped along to a high energy club beat, then an intense diss track. Yoongi could spit rap so fast you almost couldn’t keep up, yet every word was clear. You glanced up at him as he focused on the computer screen, realizing how truly talented he was. A slightly slower tune with a driving beat behind it came on, something in the realm of a sexy slow-jam. Your eyebrows shot up, face heating along with the whole room as you listened. You weren’t expecting his lyrics to be so… bold.

The song ended and Yoongi clicked around a bit, glancing at you and noting your expression. “What did you think?” He was clearly nervous, but also proud of his work.

You smiled at him, trying to school your expression. If he noticed your flustered state, he was kind enough not to comment. “I would definitely dance to that. Or buy tickets to that concert.”

He grinned a gummy smile, a laugh escaping him. “I don’t think we’re anywhere near that yet. But I appreciate the thought.” He looked back at the screen, queuing up something else. “Okay, this one is a bit different than the other stuff. It’s not as… up as the other stuff. But I wanted to try writing something real. I don’t know if it’s any good, so tell me what you think.” He pressed play.

A soft piano melody began, and you quickly recognized it as something he’d played at dinner. But it quickly became clear this was a newer version of the piece as a base synth came in. After a moment of piano, Yoongi’s lyrics began. His voice was more familiar as the Yoongi you knew, not the cocky club persona from the other songs. 

As you listened you felt your heart clench with every word. This wasn’t a song, it was a story. His story. He told you about moments, flashes of love and joy, broken and torn away by loss and violence. His voice strained, trying not to break as he told of greed and hate and finally, emptiness. When so much pain builds up that you are hollow. With nothing left to push you forward, you only need the tiniest push to send you over the edge and into oblivion.

You sat for a moment, looking at the coffee table in front of you but your mind was far away. Yoongi wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you looked up at him. His eyes were wide with worry.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, scanning your face before wiping at it with the sleeve of his sweater. You hadn’t realized you were crying. You didn’t answer him, instead you pulled him into a tight hug. He seemed to understand because he didn’t press you further. The two of you stayed like that for quite a while.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

It was just you and Jimin again on Thursday. Business was picking up as the weekend approached, so you were kept busy with customers almost constantly throughout the day. At noon you ran back to check on Yoongi, but you didn’t even have time to take a real lunch.

Mid-afternoon there was a bit of a lull. You had just slipped back into the kitchen to take a breath and drink the coffee you’d made yourself when a customer out front caught your attention.

“Is your owner here?” the man asked. His voice wasn’t very deep, but his tone was imposing, almost threatening.

“I beg your pardon?” Jimin responded politely.

“Your owner. I want to speak to them.”

“You mean the shop owner?” The man must’ve nodded because Jimin called for you a second later. You came out of the kitchen and looked over the man in question.

He was average height, but stocky. The suit he wore was probably expensive, and you could see a fine gold chain peeking out of the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. You glanced up to meet his eye and were surprised to find a generally handsome face. A tattoo crept out from under his collar, under his jaw, and up behind his ear. He looked you over in return, mouth curving into a smile, but it had no warmth behind it. Actually, it almost sent a shudder through you.

“Are you the owner?” he asked.

“I am. How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a lost hybrid. A client of mine mentioned she saw him here?”

You frowned, glancing at Jimin but making sure your unease didn’t cross your face. “A hybrid? I can’t think who you’d be talking about. Maybe he came in with a customer?”

“No, she said he was working here.” The man dug in his pocket and pulled out his phone. “This one, a cat. Name’s Suga, but he calls himself Yoongi sometimes,” he said, turning the phone to show you. The image you saw made your stomach drop. The photo was dimly lit by pink and purple neon lights, but you still easily recognized the boy in the photo. It was Yoongi, curled up on the floor against a couch. He was in just a thin t-shirt and underwear, obviously trying to avoid the camera. You schooled your expression before meeting the man's eyes again, feeling nauseous.

“I can’t say I’ve seen him. My friend here is a cat hybrid, so maybe she mistook him for this guy?” You glanced at Jimin, who nodded. He looked uncomfortable, probably sensing your anxiety.

The man sneered. “Believe me, she wouldn’t mistake this kid for any other kitty.”

You cringed internally but put on a polite, apologetic smile. “Well, I’m sorry we can’t be of more help.”

“Oh don’t worry. I’ll check in with the local patrol station. You know how the police have been cracking down on strays. When they find him they’ll get him right back to me.” You nodded tightly at him, still trying to keep a smile. “Let me know if you see him,” he said, pushing a business card across the counter to you. The name on it was Kwon Hyunjoong. You nodded and the man bid you farewell, You watched until he exited the shop and the door settled shut behind him. 

You turned to Jimin. “Call Jin and Namjoon,” you said, already moving back to the apartment. You burst through the door, startling Yoongi from his place at the kitchen table. He pulled his headphones off and stood, walking to meet you by the door.

“Hey, what’s going on?” His brows were furrowed as he looked you over. “What’s wrong?” He placed his hands on your shoulders and that was when you realized you were shaking. You looked at him, panic in your eyes.

“There was a guy looking for you,” you blurted. You took a deep breath, but it ended up more of a sob. You couldn’t seem to catch your breath. “He had a picture of you. And he’s going to the police. He said they’ll find you and take you back to him and I said I hadn’t seen you but…”

Yoongi stopped you from saying any more, pulling you into his chest and stroking your hair.

“Woah, woah. Slow down,” he said. He was trying to sooth you but you could feel how he’d begun shaking as well, muscles tense as you clutched his shirt. “He doesn’t know I’m here right? And you said you hadn’t seen me.”

“That woman. That disgusting b**** told them she saw you. That you were working here. Yoongi, do they have papers? Can they take you? Oh god, even if they don’t I’m not sure what I can do. What if I can’t protect you? I promised I’d keep you safe and now I- I-” You dissolved into gasping sobs, imagining the police coming and dragging Yoongi out of your home. If they had evidence that they ‘owned’ him, or even had in the past, there’d be nothing you could do. Most of the police didn’t care, and you had no legal right to protect him. “I have to protect you,” you cried. You held him so tightly he winced a little, but he just held you closer.

Your sobs had quieted a bit and you were catching your breath when a knock came on the apartment door. Yoongi carefully disengaged from your arms and had you sit on the couch while he went to get the door. He glanced through the peep-hole before opening it to reveal Jin and Namjoon, along with Jungkook. Namjoon surveyed the older man, who was shaking, eyes puffy and watery. Then he glanced over Yoongi’s shoulder and spotted you curled up on the couch, trembling. He hurried past Yoongi and over to you, the others trailing behind him. You looked up at him as he crouched in front of you.

“Joon…” you whimpered weakly. He pulled you into his arms without a word. You started crying again, sobs renewed when you glanced up to see Jungkook with his arm around a terrified Yoongi. “You have to help me Joon. We have to keep him safe. We can’t let them take him.”

Namjoon glanced up at Jin, before gently pulling away from you. “Can you tell us what’s going on? Jimin only explained a little on the phone.” You nodded, sniffling and taking a shaky breath.

“Jungkook, why don’t you go help Jimin out front?” Jin said. The younger boy nodded, giving Yoongi’s shoulder one last squeeze before hurrying out to the cafe. 

Yoongi came to join you and Namjoon on the couch, leaning close to you. Namjoon glanced at him and removed his arm from your shoulders, taking your hand instead. Yoongi quickly wrapped you in his arms, nuzzling into your neck in an attempt to soothe you. Jin sat in the armchair across from you. They waited patiently for you to gather yourself before you started talking. You told them the whole story.

“I don’t know how to keep him safe. Legally, I can’t do anything for you, Yoongi.” Your free hand came up to clutch at his arm, still wrapped tightly around you. “I can’t protect you without legal guardianship. You know how the police have been about so-called ‘strays’. Without papers, they’ll take you to a shelter and notify your previous owners. They’ll take you and I won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.” You released Namjoon’s hand, tears returning as you turned into Yoongi’s chest again and held him tightly.

“Well the easy solution would be to have her adopt you,” Jin said. He looked at Yoongi expectantly. That was the obvious solution, but you knew how Yoongi would feel about it. You felt him stiffen in your arms and you cried harder.

“Yoon, I know you don’t want an owner. And I don’t want to own you. But I can’t lose you. Please, please, I just want to keep you safe.” The room was silent as your pleas hung in the air for a moment.

Yoongi let out a shaky sigh. “Okay.” You froze, suddenly quiet except for the occasional hiccuping breath. “I trust you, noona,” he affirmed. “I… want you to adopt me.”

You pulled away to look him in the eye, scanning for hesitation. But as hard as those words must’ve been for him to say, you couldn’t see a trace of doubt on his face. He smiled softly at you and you smiled back, tears still falling.

“Thank you,” you choked out and he held you close again, burying his face in your hair. You turned to look at Jin. “When can I sign?”

“You got a computer and a printer?” he asked, already standing from his chair. Less than an hour later you were all seated at the table, papers printed and pens in hand. Jin had been able to pull up Yoongi’s records from the database online. Luckily, his former owners hadn’t bothered to keep the papers up-to-date since they first ‘acquired’ him years ago, so nothing was preventing you from adopting him. You signed, and Yoongi placed his fingerprint on the document.

“I’m going to run these to the registration office before they close. I’m signing as a reference, so luckily we can forego a background check or interviews as a first time owner,” Jin said, already standing and heading for the door. “Unfortunately, they’ll want you to have tags. But you only have to have them when you go out. They make earrings now too.”

“That’s what Jungkook and Tae have,” Namjoon added. “They’re actually pretty cool looking, for what it is.”

Yoongi nodded, clearly not thrilled with the idea of wearing a tag again. But when he saw the remorseful look on your face he smiled at you. “It’s okay, noona. Look, my ears are already pierced anyway.”

You looked and sure enough, he already had earrings: three on one side, two on the other. “We’ll get whichever one you want. Maybe we can find one that just looks like a regular earring,” you suggested hopefully.

[yandere-daydreams]

Ok so we’ve discussed a Yandere obsessing over psychiatrist darling but what if it was the other way around?? What if a psychiatrist is Yandere for their patient? Like they already know all of their dealings secrets and insecurities and they know all of the correct things to say to gaslight and manipulate them. Not to mention how infuriatingly patient and calm they would be. Idk I just feel like this is an interesting concept and you’d have e some ideas about it

This violates so many ethical codes, but I don’t think rules are what I’m most worried about getting violated, right now. The environment is just so sterile, and everything always feels so alien... it’s hard to resist wanting to exploit such a professional relationship.

TW: Abuse of Proffessional Power, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Heavy Themes of Stalking, and Implied Kidnapping. 

~

He said you were too stressed, the first time you met him.

You’d had other therapists before, therapists with more qualifications and experience and successfully departed clients, but there was something about him you liked. It could’ve been that smile, warm but never over-done, or how little he depended on your file, but you just… trusted him, genuinely trusted him. It was like you’d met him before, like you saw him somewhere you liked and automatically associated him with that feeling of homey bliss. The candles littered across his desk didn’t hurt, filling the room with such a sweet smoke, and the snacks were nice, too. He always seemed to have your favorites on-hand.

You gutted yourself as soon as he gave you permission to do so, telling him about your latest period of paranoia. You said it felt like someone had been following you, recently, and that you never really thought of yourself as ‘alone’ anymore. You told him your last therapist was no help, she was always so cold and distant and critical, you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her, towards the end. He smiled, nodded, wrote something down and asked if you could work from home.

You could. He said that less exposure to ‘overwhelming stimuli’ would help you regain the sense of individuality you needed. You weren’t sure what he meant, but you agreed, checked if his candles were scented, and asked if a bi-weekly schedule would work for him

He gave you something to help you sleep, on your third appointment.

You’d been keeping to yourself more, with his insistence, but that made you restless, jittery, insomniatic. You’d gotten into the habit of staying up, waking in the middle of the night, making excuses to delay finally closing your eyes until you couldn’t keep them open, any longer. Your paranoia hadn’t improved, either. You still felt stifled, contained, watched and examined wherever you went. It wasn’t bad, most of the time, but it was always there. You wondered aloud if it was possible that there was a camera in your apartment you didn’t know about, something the last tenant had left and neglected to mention. He politely shot that idea down, of course.

It was an excuse, he said, in a way that managed to make the accusation sound less accusatory than it should’ve. It happened all the time. People would begin feeling guilty, for whatever reason, then they’d start to imagine a plight to debilitate themselves with. An illness, an enemy, or in your case, a stalker. He mused that taking time for yourself had exaggerated this, and advised you to ignore it. You brought up your issue sleeping again, and he wrote you a prescription.

He chuckled, under his breath, then winked playfully. He said an earthquake wouldn’t be able to wake you up, as long as you took two capsules every day. He gave you one of his candles, unburnt but not unopened, and told you to try burning it if you couldn’t seem to relax. You accepted it gladly.

He noticed you hadn’t been biting your nails, by the sixth time he saw you.

It was a nervous tick, something you’d picked up from an unknown source and carried with for too long to keep track. While your sleeping habits had improved, you’d begun to feel sluggish, constantly in a state between awareness and paralysis. You didn’t feel the need to check your locks before bed, anymore, and it was hard to rationalize why you should look into the strange noises that always seemed to come from the other side of a closed door. ‘Apathy’ wasn’t a fitting term, but you couldn’t say your devotion to your anxiety was anything remarkable, either. You used to pace and pull at your own hair whenever something was out of place, but now, it was hard to do so much as worry about the missing items in your closet, or fret just because a strange man spent an hour or two standing outside your building.

That was the first time he touched you. He asked to see your hands, and without thinking, you complied. You couldn’t remember his smile ever being so bright, not before he was looking over your healed cuticles and regrown nails, but the moment ended too quickly for you to be sure. His professionalism never wavered, not as he told you how proud he was of your progress or how wonderful getting to see you so often was. He said something else, too, but you couldn’t seem to process it. Remembering things had been difficult since you’d started taking that medication, but a constant haze was a small price to pay for how minor everything was beginning to seem.

He was more enthusiastic than he usually was, for the rest of that appointment, the topic of conversation quickly straying from your fears and anxieties. He asked about your personal life, unprompted, and you couldn’t find a problem with spilling every little detail you could think of. You couldn’t find a problem with a lot of things, these days.

He said he’d suggested home visits, during your tenth appointment.

He promised you’d given him your address, that you’d eagerly taken up his offer when he hinted at having your little meetings in a more intimate setting. You didn’t remember that, but you hardly remembered anything from your tenth appointment, or your ninth or your eight or the past month. You mumbled something about your sight being blurry, about not being able to feel your legs, and he nodded. He was still smiling, but it didn’t seem professional, anymore.

You were the one to blame the pills, this time. What kind of therapist would want to make house-calls, much less make them so late? He confirmed your suspicions seamlessly, sitting on the edge of your bed as you fought to stay conscious and told him about how hard doing anything had gotten, how exhausted you were all the time. He mentioned your stalker, and you said you didn’t know what he was talking about. He brought up names of family and friends, and you struggled to recall the last time you’d spoken with them. You’d started to cry, sometime during your appointment, but he was so nice, wiping away your tears and offering to take you in for personal counseling. He listed off the benefits it’d entail, but you were convinced in a matter of seconds. He was just so understanding, so kind, so…

So familiar.

You nodded, and he grinned, telling you not to keep yourself awake any longer. He said he’d take care of everything. You knew he’d take care of everything.

You slept better than you had in weeks, that night.

[jjba-hell]

Fate and Fortune

Part 4 and we’re finally moving into canon ya’ll.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Content warning: implied unwanted sexual advances, mentioning of prosthetics and amputation (y’know Joseph), mention of substance (marijuana) usage, mild injuries, mention of grief (especially familial loss)

For the moots: @risottoneroo (ya mans is making an appearance) @rat-makes-stuff

Some context: Vera’s stand works in balance- for every good fortune she exploits or bad fortune she reverts, the bad needs to be experienced and because she manipulates it, she’s the one that needs to experience it. This forms the basis of big skills having a “cost”.

The next time Vera had climbed onto an airplane, it was unaccompanied and just a few months shy of two years from when she had first left Egypt.

Mr Joestar had never made an appearance but Avdol kept in touch over the phone almost biweekly. Everything in the world seemed to be running smoothly until Avdol’s calm demeanor seemed to waver over the phone when they spoke, so much so that she knew something big was going on.

“Vera! You’ve got a scheduled call with your benefactor in the counselor’s office after school.” One of her class mates had handed her a time and return number scribbled on a piece of paper as she strolled through the hallway.

Of course she was on time, waiting about three rings before picking up and introducing herself. The voice that returned was definitely not what she was expecting.

Vera had always imagined a weakening, wavering voice from an elder gentleman on the other end of the line when she thought of her benefactor but Mr Joestar was loud, quick- talking and despite the serious order for her to leave her classes, sounded no older than 40.

She landed in Japan a few hours shy of midnight, painfully jet-lagged and half asleep in a vain attempt to forget the time zones she was crossing. Avdol had met her just outside the luggage carousel, giving a tired smile as she approached.

“Long time no see, Avdol.”

“How was your flight?” He gave a huff of laughter, taking her suitcase and guiding her towards one of the exits.

“Oh it was lovely, I stop smoking for a month and suddenly all my hard work is undone by a woman two isles behind me.” She had always had a weakness for cherry cigarillos.

“And you caved?” He raised an eyebrow slightly at her.

“It was an 8 hour flight- I mean at least I stopped asking after she so kindly offered to ‘alleviate some stress in the bathroom’.”

Avdol cringed a breathed a heavy sigh- “I forget for all the luck of your stand you suffer twice the bad luck.”

She shrugged and then sat down on the bench with a groan. “Speaking of which...Do you-?”

The cigarette pack handed to her was enough of an answer.

“Damn Avdol- I knew your nerves were frayed but bad enough for you to pick up smoking again?”

He didn’t answer as he sat down beside her, throwing an arm over the back of the bench and joining her in the vice.

“The man that killed your parents. He came to find me.”

Vera’s stomach dropped, the blood leaving her head as the realization dawned on her. The fact that Avdol was there and seemingly unharmed...

Avdol took a heavy swallow, took another drag and continued. “Your benefactor brought you here because you were probably the first among us to have seen Dio in person in Egypt.”

“And I’m guessing this shitbag’s name is Dio?” She didn’t mind getting information in the form of little snippets but Avdol always spoke to her in a pretty straightforward manner, to see him so disoriented in his thoughts was putting her off ease.

He only nodded.

Vera cleared her throat and then turned towards the man beside her. “And care to explan what my benefacto has to do with him?”

“Dio is a pest that started with the Joestars-“

It took three cigarettes for Avdol to get through the brunt of the Joestar family drama- not even mentioning the finer details not even they were aware of. “So this Kujo kid is just a pit stop before we go back to Egypt?”

The prospect both excited and worried her. She’d be going home but at the cost of possibly facing Dio.

“Don’t think on it too much- Mr Joestar still has to affirm that his grandson doesn’t have a stand.”

Vera laughed with her head back. “I kinda figured a little arrest scare wasn’t enough for him to come all this way.”

The two rose up from the bench, Avdol taking her suitcase as the taxi pulled up.

Vera was nearly convinced Jotaro Kujo didn’t have a stand, so when she crawled into the hotel bed in her room, she was convinced that she’d be able to sleep the jetlag off. The 10 am call from the front desk was enough to prove her very wrong.

“Yes?” She grumbled into the phone.

“Good morning, Vera.” The painfully smug reply from Avdol almost had her dropping the phone back onto the receiver. “The taxi to the police station will be here in half an hour.”

She dropped her head into the pillow and gave a muffled scream. Without much further protest she rolled out of bed and prepared to meet the day. Avdol met her in the front office with her own pack of cigarettes. “You’re supposed to be a good influence on me.”

Avdol only shook his head, a smile behind the cigarette between his lips.

At the police station, they were greeted with a rather frantic looking officer, ushering them through the offices and down to the cells where the inmates cowered from the oversized teenager lounging in the corner cell with junk that, needless to say, didn’t belong in a jail cell.

Before they could approach the problem at hand Avdol greeted Mr Joestar. The sound of his name had her eyes shoot up at the greying monstrosity of a man in front of her. Joseph Joestar smiled at her warmly before extending a white gloved hand for her to shake. “A pleasure to finally meet the student whose report card I get in the mail.”

Vera could’t help but give a laugh- just as much as she only knew the name of her benefactor, he must have only known her for her report cards.

“The honor is all mine, Mr Joes-“ her sentence died out on her tongue due to the subtle metallic click on her palm. Her smile slid off her face and her gaze shot between the clicking on Mr Joestar’s hand and his seemingly oblivious smile.

When the realisation finally dawned on him Joseph swiftly held his other hand out with a toothy grin (and maybe a dust of color on his cheeks). Vera shakily shook it, relieved at the slight heat from a human palm in the hand she held now. “Sorry, I forget not everyone is lacking a right hand.” He chuckled awkwardly but Vera struggled to hide the genuine laugh behind her hand. “A tale for another time?”

Mr Joestar gave a bark of laughter, throwing a jovial arm around her shoulders. “I just knew you had moxy, kid! I knew right after that call I got from your principal about the maurijuana ring you busted because one of the dealers ripped you off.”

Avdol was quick to bring the topic back to the trouble at hand, speaking to both Vera and Mr Joestar (mostly to Vera’s relief since they were still in a police station). “Not to interupt a long-delayed acquiantance but how would you have us remove Jotaro from his cell, Mr Joestar?”

“By whatever means- Avdol, I trust your judgement.”

Avdol looked at Vera, “He simply won’t leave his cell. Any idea if you could get him out?”

Her eyebrows shot up in intrigue, “Without force i suppose you mean?” She looked at one of the officers nearby. “How long has he been in there?”

“About a week.” One of them answered, sounding unsure.

She nodded, looking over to the cot that was visibly too small for a teenager of such bizarre proportions. “I could just bring him out the easy way-“

“After that I’ll take over.” Avdol finished her thought for her.

Vera shrugged, strolling past the other bystanders to stand in front of the cot Jotaro was seated at. She peered down at him between the bars, his aquamarine gaze peaking just beyond the brim of his cap- like he was trying to stare HER down.

When she refused to waver he only gave an angry ‘Tch’ as he pulled his cap lower over his eyes. Vera brought Fortune behind her and waited for him to bring his open soda can to his lips. To his surprise the can was sealed. Jotaro’s gaze angrily shot towards her and her stand, the disk that replaced their pointer finger knuckle still quietly moving backwards.

“So you possess an evil spirit as well, so what?”

“We don’t speak the same language, Kujo. Your default is force but I’d like to mess with your head first. I won’t force you out of your cell. You’ll come out on your own volition.”

Another indifferent scoff as he reached for the pack of sodas that once stood on the table nearby. He looked almost disbelieving at the empty space, soon becoming angry as he rose up on his feet and yelled. “Knock it off, woman.”

“This is gonna sound so childish but seriously, knock what off? Your cap? Because I’m sorry to say...” she held the cap Fortune had phased from his head and into her hand beside her head. “I already have.”

Jotaro’s eyes grew wide for a moment before he reached through the bars at her hand. She only took one step back out of reach as she put the cap onto her own head. “The cell is unlocked, by the way.” Was all she said as she turned to the guard who watched in disbelief as the rest of the junk in Jotaro’s cell phased back to their original places. “May I smoke in here?”

He only shook his head.

“Hey! You annoying bitch! Stop it with the stupid tricks!” Jotaro yelled from behind the bars. Vera continued as if she didn’t even hear him.

“That’s a shame- I’ve never had this brand before.”

In her hand she held the cigarettes from Jotaro’s back pocket. For just a moment she turned her gaze to him, wildly angry eyes meeting her own. “What’s the matter, Jotaro? Familiar pack?”

He didn’t even need to feel his pocket to know it was his. “I said quit the tricks, woman!”

“Oh, then you’re not gonna like this next one.” She smirked as she started walking towards the exit- focusing Fortune onto Jotaro. In her peripherals she could see the extension of his stand’s hand moving past the bars. So she retorted by having Fortune grab hold of the stand’s wrist and force it against the bars with a loud clang. Jotaro’s temper flared and just as he took his first physical step closer to her she had focused Fortune on reverting Jotaro’s body outside of the cell- just like he was last week.

She threw the cap back at him as she stood beside the border wall between the the two cells. “Was that so hard?” She asked as she peered behind her shoulder at the other teenager. He stared in disbelief at his position on the same side of the bars as her.

Vera stepped closer and took hold of his wrist, bringing it up to place his cigarettes into his palm. “You’re welcome. Now, you gonna share a cigarette with me outside and explain why you wanna hide in a dark jail cell or are you gonna do this the hard way?”

“I can’t control the thing that possessed me. For those around me’s safety- I won’t be leaving this cell.”

Vera followed the dramatic bastard as he opened the cell and sat back down on the cot, throwing his legs up once again.

“I mean I saw that ‘spirit’ try and grab your cap back for you so I think you have a bit more control over it than you think but I mean who am I to say, right? Clearly,” she chuckled as she slid her hands into her pockets. “You chose the hard way.”

Vera turned around to take Avdol’s place leaning against the wall, watching the fight unfold before letting Fortune turn back Jotaro’s damages with a wave of the hand.

Fortune’s palm softly rested on Avdol’s shoulder as they left the station, reverting any injuries he could have gotten in the scrap.

“I think Jotaro has burns you could heal.”

Vera’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Nah, he chose violence.”

Avdol laughed, placing a hand on Vera’s shoulder. “I’m surprised at the control you have over your stand. Dare I ask what it had cost you?”

Vera had once told him that every skill she learned, every major thing she had accomplished with Fortune came at a cost.

Most of her healing she had learned on the field hockey team she was forced to participate in- she’d fixed knees and thumbs and sometimes teeth during water breaks but her tricks with time and space came at considerably greater costs.

Some were as simple as having bad luck and slow reflexes that sent her down a flight of stairs too quickly, other times it was tricky little traps set up by boys behind the track field locker rooms.

In a sense it made her smart enough to deal with life, and luckily she only paid a fee per use and when and where the cost would be charged sometimes felt like it would haunt her.

“Just a sprained ankle.” She lied. It was a tale for another day, she wasn’t very excited to tell him the truth in that moment but she would eventually.

At the café they brought Jotaro up to speed with Dio and everything happening in Egypt. Holy also offered her home as a place Vera and Avdol could stay until their departure.

“And when you get up in the morning, you can just roll it up and put it back in the cupboard.” Mrs Kujo cheerfully explained as Vera knelt beside the futon Holy had rolled open for her.

“Thank you, so much. Mrs Kujo.” She bowed her head in thanks- feeling the soft futon gently calling her name to sleep.

“It’s no trouble dear- it’s the least I could do for helpin with my son.”

Vera could see her movements slow down, her hands becoming shakey as she fiddled with the sheets in front of her. The tears streaming down Mrs Kujo’s cheeks broke Vera’s heart as they dripped onto the corner of the comforter. Without second though, Vera got up and brought the tissue box to Holy and tried to comfortingly rub over her back.

“It’s alright Mrs Kujo, you’ve been through a lot.”

Holy’s teary eyes gazed at Vera and even more she wanted to wrap her arms around her and comfort her but she figured that she would be overstepping. “He’s not a bad kid, I promise. He’s really such a sweet boy.”

Vera had to bite her tongue from asking if she was sure- she’d heard how he spoke to Holy, to her it almost seemed unforgivable but she couldn’t deny a mother’s love for their own child. So with a soft smile she answered. “I believe you, Mrs Kujo. Things are just... strange.”

The smile that lit up Holy’s face brought such relief to Vera’s heavy heart and with a dramatic reach, Vera’s neck was caught in Holy’s embrace. “Oh thank you for understanding!”

For a moment Vera had no idea how to react, simply letting the little woman crush her in the hug, swaying happily until she was reminded how long it had been since she’d hugged her own mother... and how she’d never be able to.

“What do you like for breakfast?” Holy suddenly released her from the hug, smiling brightly.

“Uhh-“

“Anything! Even an English breakfast, maybe an American one, anything.”

Vera took hold of Holy’s wrist to try and calm her down. “Show me what you like to eat for breakfast- I’d love to see what a traditional breakfast looks like here.”

She brightened up considerably and like a whorlwind of good nights and sweet dreams she was out the door.

Vera crawled into her futon quietly to try and forget why she hadn’t had a home-cooked breakfast in years.

Bad idea.

With a start she jerked herself up from her nightmare. To cope with the shaking she shot up out of her comforter and grabbed her cigarettes.

She was about to slide her door open but the crack of thunder and the door opening on its own had Fortune leaping from her body defensively. Before her stood Jotaro Kujo, peering down at her with an unreadable expression in the dark.

“Can I help you?” She asked perhaps a bit too aggressively, smoothing her hair back down.

“You made a lot of noise. I came over to make sure you’d shut you up.”

“Do have any idea how much of a creep you sound like? Although I have to admit, I’m not particularly afraid of you.”

She slipped passed the mountain of a man and brought a cigarette to her lips when she stepped outside the room.

“I didn’t mean to come off that way- you sounded like you were crying.”

She turned around to look at Jotaro who had now slid his hands into his sweat pants to watch her walk down the hallway.

“It’s okay, I’ve heard worse. But you need to cut that shit out with your mom- she actually loves you.”

Jotaro’s gaze moved to the garden just beside the elevated wooden hallway, watching the rain drizzle over the little bushes literring the edges of the garden. “I know.”

Vera figured there was more to Jotaro than just being an abrasive asshole- she could probably sit and psycho-analyze him to pieces but she found it best not to pry to far.

“Join me for a smoke break?” She asked as she held the open mouth of her pack out to him.

He padded over and reached in, bringing one to his lips.

[degenerate-yandere]

Damon & Ray Headcanons

Woo boy this took awhile to get through, but here it is! Some general Headcanons for my boys to lay some groundwork, I plan on doing some fics for them very soon.

Ray has some double-ups from a previous post, simply because I wanted this to be the comprehensive post with all their information in one spot, if that makes sense.

Anyway I hope y’all enjoy! This was partly for the beautiful @ramwrites​ who wanted some Damon content, and who am I to deny the Queen’s request.

Picrews used: Damon, Ray.

TW: Abuse, kidnapping, yandere, violence, implied murder, drugging, non-consensual touching, stalking, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour

Damon:

Attraction + Pursuit

Disgust - an ample word to describe Damon’s initial reaction to these newfound emotions that threaten the fortitude of his petrified heart. Every time you cause his breath to hitch in his throat, he’s reminded of just how damn vulnerable you make him; a highly unwelcomed source of insecurity. If Damon hates one thing, it’s being undermined.

As a result of his mounting insecurity, it can be expected that his infatuation, at first, manifests as resentment. Damon will be especially cruel to you - intimidation, bullying, and public degradation are all outlets of his internal frustration. You’ll think he hates you, and maybe a part of him does. He doesn’t feel guilty, no; this is all your fault, you’re the one who makes him feel this way - It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.

This torment is short-lived however. It’ll come as an epiphany as he towers over you, looking down at your comparatively fragile form. You are pathetic, but more importantly, he isn’t. Damon’s bigger and stronger than you, so what’s stopping him from simply making you his? He’s quick to surmise that he’s entitled to you. All this stems from Damon’s immense ego; an inflated sense of superiority, and a fragile one at that.

As far Damon’s concerned, you need him as much as he needs you. First-hand experience has shown him just how weak and defenseless you are. You need him to keep you safe. He’ll protect you, he likes to keep what’s his intact - unknowing to the fact he’s the exact thing you need to be protected from.

It’ll give you whiplash how fast Damon’s demeanor seems to change. You’ll be lucky to receive a grumbled apology for his past actions. He’ll loom above you nigh constantly, glaring daggers at any who’d approach you. His intimidating presence is enough on its own to isolate you.

It’s important to note Damon’s utter lack of experience. Sure, he’s had numerous flings in the past, but this - this is different. Romance is an alien concept, and courtship is an incomprehensible endeavor. But he tries - he makes an effort to lower his gravelly voice, relaxing his body language and resisting the urge to belittle you. He’ll bring you odd gifts and trinkets, shoving them into your hands with no explanation other than a grunt. You doubt they were acquired through wholesome means. Damon will grumble compliments, ones that, when accompanied with his threatening voice and vulgar verbiage, are often perceived as thinly-veiled threats. He tries, he really does - but his patience is easily waned.

Any inquiries you raise about his insistence on shadowing you are met with a scoff and a disingenuous insult;

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.”

No matter how many times you ask him, his answer will always be the same - nonchalant and unsatisfactory.

He’ll grow tired if you continue to fear him or try to avoid him. You should be grateful. Damon will resort to threats and manipulation to force you to accept his advances.

Anyone he deems a threat, whether that be individuals he believes might harm you, partners, exes, or even people who simply stare at you too long, will all meet a similar fate - broken, bloodied, and barely recognizable. He likes to take pictures of his hard work, he can’t help but feel a sense of pride as he looks through them. Maybe he’d show you one day, to let you know just how grateful you should be that he’s keeping you safe. There’s a wicked glee he derives from pummeling people for your sake.

Kidnapping is an inevitability; the urge to protect you from those who’d dare to take you away from him, and his selfish desire to own you, will make that decision a definite one.

It’ll be easy - cornering you in some isolated spot late at night, caging you against his built body as he tells you just how long he’s been waiting for this. He’ll overpower you with his abundant brute strength, remarking that the more you struggle, the rougher he’ll be - a promise he makes well on. It’s hard to deny his joy of having you struggle against him, completely at his mercy. It serves as an omen of the life that awaits you.

Post-kidnapping + Punishment

Damon’s captivity is stern and demanding. There is no ’grace period’, no time allocated to allow you to grow somewhat accustomed with the nightmare you’ve been thrust into.

His expectations, as demeaning as they are, are made evident from the beginning. You are to accept his affections, no matter how forceful or rough. You will show him ample appreciation for protecting you, an act which he considers merciful.

Damon is quick to ‘correct your mistakes’, and ensures you never make them again. There’s no restraint, no mercy - but he likes it when you beg anyway.

Punishments are cruel and severe; Taunting you as he holds the cindering end of his cigarette inches above your skin, allowing you to feel the heat emanating from it as you beg and plead - cut short as he presses it against your flesh. Isolation, food deprivation, impassioned beatings -  all serving as painful reprimands.

Behind his anger and frustration lies an undeniable sadistic enthusiasm as he punishes you. Damon loves putting you in your place, he adores holding immense power over you.

Bite marks litter your body, purple patches coat your neck - Damon’s constant, little ‘reminders’ to show you who you belong to. His affection is equally barbaric; his touches leave bruises, his kisses result in bloodied, swollen lips.

Don’t squirm when he forces you onto his lap to place kisses along your shoulder, don’t cry when he tightly embraces you in bed, and maybe he’ll be gentle.

His ego is a possible source of exploitation - worship him, tell him how big and strong he is, confess your adoration, and he may just let his guard down.

If you ever consider escape, pray he never finds you. Damon will yank you by the hair as he tells you just how much you’ve fucked up. A series of harsh punishments follow, to ingrain the fact that you belong to him, that you can never escape him. There’s no painkillers, no warning or care as he begins applying painful pressure to your legs. He’ll ensure you can’t run from him again.

Non-Yandere Headcanons 

Damon found work as a bouncer for a few years, until he was abruptly fired for hospitalizing a rowdy client. As a result, he’s resorted to… less than ethical means of income.

Damon’s birthday is on March 27th, though he isn’t one to celebrate it.

You bet this dude has a motorcycle, and he treats it like his child.

Damon is built like an absolute tank - a brick wall of raw, hard power. He’s proud of his stature.

He tastes, and often smells, like booze and cigarettes - indicative of his poor habits.

Ray:

Attraction + Pursuit

Ray’s infatuation, a product of a seemingly inconsequential interaction, is quick to fester into enraptured obsession. He’ll form an emotional dependency, a suffocating need, toward the poor soul he’s latched onto.

He’ll find a desire to satiate his growing obsession, to satisfy the numerous questions about you that weigh constantly on his mind. He can’t approach you directly, the very thought makes his heart threaten to leap from his chest. Instead, he’ll opt to stalk you, just so he can learn everything about you. He’ll become acquainted with your place of residence, rifling through your belongings - perhaps even taking some to keep for himself. You could’ve sworn you had more pairs of underwear.

The more he finds out about you, the more ultimately enamoured he becomes. Ray can’t stop thinking about you. That’s when the drawings begin. They start as idle sketches, cute doodles accompanied by scribbled love-hearts. It isn’t long before Ray is struck with grander inspiration, your likeness becoming a mainstake in his manga. He draws panels upon panels of his love-sick longing; taking you on the romantic dates you deserve, heartfelt confessions of love which reek of shoujo cliche, tender kisses and gentle touches. They line the walls of his room, accompanied by the various photographs he’s taken of you - for reference, of course.

That isn’t the extent of his collection, however. Ray keeps a private stash; the outlet for his more salacious desires. He feels somewhat bad about drawing your perfect form in such disgusting, compromising scenarios, but his filthy needs overpower his consideration.

Ray’s rationality, as middling as it is, only erodes as his obsession grows more unrestrained. He’ll be increasingly emboldened, sending you love letters and anonymous text messages with such detail that they establish…. troubling implications.

His gnawing need for you only grows further. It keeps him up at night, his fingers shakely caressing your clothes desperately hoping it’ll bring him comfort. He wants to rip his hair out sometimes - he just wants to touch you, he wants to love you, he needs you more than anything.

Ray isn’t a violent man, but if anyone threatens his one-sided relationship with you, well - he can’t let that happen. A baseball bat, and the lovestruck conviction to swing it, work wonders at remeding his problems. He doesn’t mean to hurt anyone, he frantically tells himself as he washes the blood from his hands.

He eventually reaches the conclusion that he has to take you. The very thought of you being swept away, abandoning him, is enough to make his decision a certainty. Ray assures himself that it’s what’s best for you - he can take care of you, keep you safe and secure.

Unlike Damon, Ray goes about his kidnapping with significantly more finesse. He can’t stand the thought of hurting you - he’ll instead opt to slip something in your drink, or ambush you with a strong-smelling rag against your nose.

Post-kidnapping + Punishment

You’ll wake up, gagged and handcuffed to his bedpost; This marks the beginning of your ‘relationship’. He’ll try desperately to tell you he won't hurt you, to convince you that he just wants to help you. His fingers seem magnetised to you, itching and yearning to feel you beneath them. The blazing blush across his face, the bashful grin adorning his lips, and the utterly deranged adoration that speckle his eyes betray just how content he is.

He’ll be quick to show you just how much he loves you; flicking through all his artwork of you, reaffirming that it’s all been for you.

Ray is patient, understanding, but completely overbearing. When he sees how terrified you are he can’t help but coil himself around you and mutter reassurances against your skin - even if he’s the very source of your fear

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay. I-I have you now, you d-don’t have to be afraid anymore”.

It won’t take long to realize just how needy he is - his touch-starved skin rarely leaving yours. He relishes in your sweet touch, nuzzling against you as his arms wrap around you, his fingers exploring every inch of your flesh. Whines and groans escape him whenever he’s deprived of your addictive touch.

Ray’s insists on feeding you, sitting you on his lap as he plays video games or draws, pulling you close and burying his nose in your hair as he drifts to sleep. His kisses, as rare as they are without your consent, are sloppy and inexperienced - but laced with such a raw, unrestrained need.

Lives for your praise and validation, outright begging for it. His heart swells at any crumbs he can extrapolate. You stared at his artwork? You must love it! You didn’t flinch away when he kissed you? You must want him just as much as he wants you.

Ray isn’t one for punishments, he couldn’t bring himself to willingly hurt his precious darling. If you grow violent or reckless, he’ll simply pin you down and wait out your little outburst.

But if he ever fears you may leave him, or if you ever manage to escape and he catches you - he has no quarrels about doing anything if it means you can’t escape. The thought of you abandoning him makes him completely unhinged. Ray’ll do whatever it takes, even if it means hurting you. He’ll cry and scream, begging you to tell him why ‘you’re making him do this’.

“Y-You can’t leave me! Don’t you get it?! I-I can’t live without you!”

Non-yandere Headcanons

Ray’s birthday is on October 10th, although he never usually has anyone to celebrate with...

Despite his shut-in nature, Ray likes to remain fit. He frequents the gym at his apartment complex (at night of course; less people). He did martial arts during his teenage years, and reluctantly joined his school’s volleyball team. This results in a lean physique comprised of sinewy, surprisingly strong muscles - all the better to restrain protect his darling.

He makes money from his web manga and commissions, as well as working part time at a videogame store. Has a surprisingly good work ethic.

Survives off the college diet of caffeine and ramen - but he’ll try his damndest to change it if his darling is less than receptive of his refined cuisine.

His hygiene… isn’t the best. He’s a firm believer that a shower can be replaced with spraying oneself with copious amounts of cheap, intoxicatingly strong body spray.