#like he made a mockery of my concern and I can handle a lot but that’s just cruel

[bobfloydsbabe]

The man I’ve been talking so much about is a great guy, but I’m starting to think he’s not ready to date. He burns hot and cold, and yesterday when I tried to confirm a time for us to meet, he stopped responding. He essentially ghosted me for 24-ish hours, then texted “sorry I didn’t reply” around noon today. That’s it. When I asked if he was okay, he said “nope.” There’s more, but we’d be here forever if I had to relay all of it. I’ve put a lot of effort into this and shown him a lot of grace, but I’m not going to keep pushing at someone who isn’t willing to do the same for me. If he wanted to he would, and it seems like he doesn’t after all.

[awkward-walking-potato]

How about this; wade with a partner who works as a drag queen? his personality is like wade's, but to a lesser extent. despite the nature of everything he does, he can be a lot more stern at times. probably an odder request but I love drag culture and wanna work on becoming one myself eventually. and I love my boyfriend deadpool

Deadpool and the Drag Queen of Chaos

In the neon-lit underbelly of New York City, where the streets are alive with the buzz of late-night energy and flashing lights, there exists a club that stands out among the rest. "The Glitter Dagger" is more than just a hotspot; it’s the epicenter of fierce performances and flamboyant fashion. Behind its glittering facade, though, lies something even more extraordinary: Y/N, the drag queen with an attitude as sharp as their stilettos.

Y/N, whose drag persona "Foxy Fierce" was a local legend, had become the unlikely partner of Wade Wilson—better known as Deadpool. Their relationship was a blend of chaos and charm, with Wade’s unpredictable antics complementing Y/N’s more controlled, though no less vibrant, brand of extravagance.

Tonight, however, was far from ordinary. Deadpool had managed to crash the club’s VIP section, his red-and-black suit starkly contrasting with the glamorous surroundings. He was in a particularly irreverent mood, having just thwarted a minor criminal enterprise involving rogue circus performers.

Y/N, now out of drag and in a sleek, dark suit that radiated both class and authority, was eyeing Deadpool with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“Wade, darling,” Y/N said with a raised eyebrow, their tone a blend of mockery and genuine concern, “do you always have to make an entrance like a hurricane with a vendetta?”

Deadpool, unfazed, threw himself onto a plush sofa, tossing a small bag of confetti into the air. “Only on days that end in ‘Y’. Besides, I thought you’d appreciate a little chaos to match your dazzling performance tonight!”

Y/N took a seat beside him, leaning back with an air of practiced elegance. “And you’d be right, if you weren’t so prone to turning everything into a disaster zone. I do appreciate the sentiment, but must you always bring mayhem into my workplace?”

Wade grinned, clearly enjoying the playful banter. “Oh, come on, Foxy! Where’s your sense of adventure? Besides, I’m just trying to protect your stage from nefarious villainy. It’s practically a public service.”

Y/N shook their head with a smile that was half exasperated, half affectionate. “Your idea of ���public service’ involves a lot of exploding fireworks and questionable judgment. But I suppose I’ll let it slide this time. Just try to keep the damage to a minimum. We’re already dealing with a night of high heels and higher drama.”

As the night progressed, the two fell into their usual rhythm. Y/N managed to gracefully handle the club’s increasingly rowdy patrons while Deadpool offered his unique brand of chaotic support. Between Y/N’s sharp remarks and Wade’s over-the-top antics, they formed a balance that seemed to defy logic but worked in its own quirky way.

Later, as they stood outside the club, the cool night air contrasting sharply with the heat of the evening, Y/N leaned against the wall, their stern demeanor giving way to a softer, more contemplative expression.

“You know, Wade,” Y/N said, looking out at the city lights, “I wouldn’t trade these crazy nights for anything. You might be a walking disaster sometimes, but you’ve got a heart in there somewhere. And, as much as it pains me to admit, you make this life a lot more interesting.”

Wade, leaning casually against the wall beside them, nodded. “And you, my fabulous friend, make sure that life doesn’t get too boring. Even if you do insist on occasionally looking like a glamazon straight out of a disco ball.”

Y/N laughed, shaking their head. “Just don’t make me regret this. And remember, if you blow up my stage one more time, I will personally make sure that the next costume you get is made out of sequins and feathers.”

Deadpool’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And with that, they headed off into the night, a dynamic duo of mayhem and glamour, ready to face whatever adventure awaited them next.

[discluded]

Dang is Pond on an unofficial redemption tour for himself with all these great talks about BL soft power/censorship? And I saw his post or speech about learning from past mistakes/handlings. Making me like him again….sometimes….as a creative anyway…. Please don’t blow it again sir.

Hey! So it was funny, I was actually talking with @blramblingx2 about the Pond piece yesterday cause they were looking for an opinion from a Pond critic who wasn't foaming at the mouth, and I think the piece was posted right as the other article was blowing up, which was why today's article wasn't included in the write up.

For the ICYMI crowd, here's what I'm talking about:

CEO of Be on Cloud Pond Krisda: Friend or Foe? by @blramblingx2

"How can the government acknowledge that Boy's Love is soft power (for Thailand), but not support it?" from this tweet that was blowing up:

I'm not 100% sure this is a 1-to-1 English version of the article given the breadcrumbs are different and the English version was published two days after the Thai language version, but the title and breadcrumbs had this concerning title: "Thai Director Defends His Government-funded Soft Power Film"

This is what he actually said and where the lede was buried and why I had so many concerns with the English version:

“I would like to emphasize this term ‘soft power’ again, because it is very important. People and the media have referred to or reported on the same-sex series as soft power. However, we have never received support. But today it’s starting. I am getting a little support from the government now, but what I really want is the support of the Thai people, who should no longer classify the film as a same-sex film, but as a good film.”

The financial support is international marketing, not in the production of the film. the Thai government had no say in the actual content being produced, which is where I think a lot of people were concerned that given the recent political situation in Thailand.

I'll say this as a summation, I've never doubted that Man Suang would feature a romance between Chat and Khem. I'm not sure where this recent hand-wringing about whether or not it would be a romance alongside being a mystery/historical film came from.

I've also never had any concerns about the art, or Pond's dedication to furthering the artistic vision while refusing let anything in the way of reflecting queer love in all its facets. See: Pool scene and the production loves its queer audience back.

@moerusai actually expressed concern to me the Pond piece was going to be an apologist piece that would brush his handling of the Build/Poi situation under the rug, and I let Mo know that I did not hold back in my opinion of that being a point where a lot of people who were neutral on Pond felt extreme anger about how poorly he handled that situation and made a mockery of its seriousness while at least appearing to side with Build.

That being said, in terms of Pond learning from his mistakes and his recent comments about reflecting, this is what I said as well:

I think the problem with how fandoms behave these days is there's no room for accepting that actors, people working with them, are also changing, and taking into account that people can grow. The Mew from TharnType is not the same person he is today, and that's OK. But for many fans, the state of reality became fixed, and no new information can change how you should feel about someone, despite new information becoming available to fans,

So the tl;dr answer to your question is: I'll believe it when I see it, and I hope Pond keep his word.

But I think another key take away from the article is like, it doesn't matter how we as fans feel about Pond. I can be annoyed at him at times, and not care to see his face, but that doesn't warrant the insane and aggressive vitriol that has been directed at him. Like, isn't there enough MileApo content these days to visit and revisit? What is with people and this weird Pond fixation?

[randomnameless]

@zeroabyss replied to your post “@zeroabyss replied to your post “You're not wrong...”:

I definitely say a father telling him he has to do it all on his own and that he can’t even rely on his friends or even their fellow nations, definitely pushed Lyon to take the path that he did. No one can handle something on their own, and so Lyon was tempted to use the one power their texts said had the power to avert disaster.

​You can see how this issue was more than likely a flaw when Lyon talks about him to the twins. About how his father took on the burdens all on his throne and barely, if ever rested. The man shouldered everything that it likely played into his worsening health and death, and his final words being to tell Lyon he can’t rely on help from others concerning a natural disaster and that the other countries would leave any Grado refugees to die at the border to protect themselves

Vigarde pushing all of the country's hopes and aspirations on his unprepared son was his mistake, sure, but...

Between Vigarde telling him to deal with Grado's fate alone because relying on Renais is impossible, and Vigarde/Father Mc Gregor/The World telling him not to free Satan to use his powers because Satan nearly destroyed the continent centuries ago, if Lyon had to pick one command to disobey, I suppose he could have picked the "I'm still going to ask for Renais' help" instead of "I'm going to use Fomortiis' powers".

Vigarde might have steered him in the wrong direction - Lyon already playing with Fomortiis' powers (to save a child! and then to predict tempests and save more lives!) was his own thing.

It's SS in a nutshell, good intentions alone cannot justify the worst means used to satisfy/reach them.

Lyon lamented and complained about his perceived weakness, feeling he would never compare to the twins nor would be the kind of ruler Grado will need to save itself... so he doomed Magvel, wanting to be the strong and kind person he wished to be.

I think this is the flashback where it's more or less spelled out :

Lyon: “Mm… My research isn’t complete yet, but there’s no mistaking the power the Sacred Stones contain. And the Stone of Grado seems especially responsive to my dark magic. I suppose it’s because it contains both sacred and demonic properties. Regardless, if I can just press my studies a little harder… Well, I think I might be able to use it to heal my father’s illness. If that works, there’s no telling how many other people I can help as well.” Eirika: “Do you think this is wise? The power contained within the stones is beyond our understanding… My father tells me that the stones possess a power not to be trifled with.” Lyon: “Uh-huh… Father MacGregor is also against it. That’s why they still won’t give me direct access to the Stone of Grado. For the time being, I’ve made do with the radiant energies surrounding it. They’re nothing compared to the raw power of the stone itself, but… If I can show Father MacGregor some real progress, perhaps one day…”

(...)

Lyon: “Thanks, both of you. Hearing those words from you means a lot to me. Actually–and this hasn’t been made public yet–but… I’ve already saved someone using the knowledge I’ve gleaned so far.” Ephraim: “You have?” Lyon: “Uh-huh… A while back, a fire ravaged Serafew, and a little girl got trapped in the flames. Her burns were terrible: not even healing staves were able to cure her injuries. But just a sliver of the stone’s power restored her life and healed her wounds. We saved that girl’s life, Ephraim! Oh, if you could have seen the tears of joy in her mother’s eyes!

Fado, Ismaire and I'm pretty sure Vigarde himself know it's not wise to triffle/use the SS powers... Father MacGregor is also against it, as the resident "holy man" around - and his words are important, since the Church of Magvel was founded after Latona, who fell herself (but managed to fend him off for some reason ???) to Fomortiis' possession! - but Lyon's reply is... Mockery? Or disinterest?

Father Mac Gregor wanted to prevent him from continuing on this path, and forbade him access to the Stone! But Lyon didn't care and still used what was... available, when he also knows the power he is using has demonic properties, and a will of its own!

Lyon's reasoning isn't "Father Mac Gregor is right maybe I should try to consider that I cannot "use" Fomortiis" but something like "maybe he doesn't believe me when I tell him this power can be used for good! I just have to continue working on it!" completely missing the point...

Or is he?

Sure, Lyon saved the Serafew child... but this hadn't made been public as of yet (2 years before the start of the game), like was this not enough to convince Father Mac Gregor that he could use those powers to do right and good things? Or Lyon himself realised he... "saved" someone who was already dead?

This flashback is even more interesting because we have this, the twins' failure :

Ephraim: “Using the Sacred Stones to study magic…” Lyon: “Ephraim, Eirika, what do you two think? Using the divine power of the Sacred Stones in this way… You don’t think it’s a very good idea, do you?” Ephraim: “…It’s just that I know nothing at all of magic. I would that there were some way I could help you, but I simply can’t. But, Lyon, I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked to help others. I know how much you want the power to make others happy. I know these things, and because I know you, I trust your intentions.” Lyon: “Ephraim…” Ephraim: “If you hope to use the power of the Sacred Stone for good, I trust you can. I’m behind you all the way.” Eirika: “I agree with Ephraim entirely. You spend every night in the library, studying cures for your father’s illness. The power of the Sacred Stones is too powerful to be used for personal gain. But you, Lyon… I think you’ll be fine. You’re the kindest person I know.”

It's a double failure on their part, firstly because they give empty reassurances to Lyon claiming to know him, how he wants to use this power because he has the right intentions, or how it's totally not used for his personal gains...

When part of Lyon's desire for power was to help people, sure, but also, to be worth someone in Ephraim and Eirika's eyes!

Secondly...

No, the power of the SS (especially the one housing Fomortiis!) cannot and should not be used, even for "good" or with "good intentions". There are lines that shouldn't be crossed, even if it means not being able to save people/not reach your dreams.

The Epilogue in Eirika's route is very explicit :

Eirika: “That would be nice… But first we must seal this away… This stone banished the Demon King. With such power… Do you suppose we could bring back Father and Lyon… That everyone who died in this dreadful war could be–“ Ephraim: “Eirika.” Eirika: “I know, I know. Such things would be– I cannot wish for such things. No matter how it hurts, or rather because it hurts, we must learn to accept sorrow. We must take it into our hearts and tame our grief…” Ephraim: “Eirika… Tell me, Sister… If Lyon were here with us, what do you think he would want?” Eirika: “What he would want?” Ephraim: “Yes. You see, I think I know. It was the reason for his studies. It’s why he wanted to know about the Sacred Stones–or rather the Fire Emblem. Let’s take Lyon’s dreams and fulfill them in his stead. We can do that, can’t we? Without relying on any mystic power?” Eirika: “You’re right, Brother, we can. Let us fulfill his dreams. As Lyon wanted, as we all want… So we may live in peace and joy.”

Sure this epilogue sort of sucks because Eirika has to be explained things by Eph out of anyone (when we know how he takes the news in his route!), but the point still stands, tempted with the power to achieve the impossible... the heroes refuse and accept to move forward and fulfill their dreams (make the impossible possible?) without relying on mystic powers, especially if it comes from Fomortiis himself!

[the-great-horse-cocktail]

TL;DR: Tears can absolutely be manipulative, but given what we know about Stolas, in this case, they aren’t. Reasoning below the cut.

Tears can be manipulative, but in this context, it doesn’t make sense for them to be. What is Stolas trying to manipulate Blitz into? Chasing after him? When Blitz does so in AT, he rejects him. Apologizing to him? Blitz tries to apologize in FM, but Stolas teleports him outside the house. “. . . it’s manipulative because despite saying that he wants to give Blitz a choice he still is focusing on what he wants and shows he doesn’t handle rejection well.” Focusing on your desires over another person’s isn’t inherently manipulative. It may be selfish and/or myopic, but unless you’re trying to get those desires met by attempting to control another person’s actions or emotions, it’s not manipulative. And simply reacting to an emotionally charged situation with emotions of your own is not the same as playing the victim.

Based on the content of the show itself, I believe that it’s clear that Stolas is not crying in order to manipulate Blitz. Rather, he’s doing it because he believes that he has been rejected by someone he was attached to. Whether that attachment is morally good, bad, or neutral is outside of the scope of this discussion. When we go back to the beginning of FM, to the Stolitz duet, we can see that Stolas is anxious about what choice Blitz will make—will he stay or go? And this is all the nuance that Stolas gives to the situation. Blitz can either reject him or he can choose to be in a relationship with him. His actions come across as tone deaf because they are. (I could go into greater detail about this, but Sarcastic Chorus already made an excellent video on the subject, which I highly recommend.) But not understanding the intricacies of a situation isn’t synonymous with manipulation. I argue it serves as an alternative explanation for Stolas’ actions, one that lines up more cleanly with the information given to us by the narrative.

So, now that we know Stolas is viewing his proposal as a yes or no question, we can see why he takes Blitz’s response so poorly. He sees it as a rejection (and likely as a mockery of his desires) because it isn’t an immediate ‘yes, I want to be with you.’ In case you’re tempted to say I’m defending/agreeing with Stolas’ reasoning, I’m not. His assumption of rejection was incorrect, based on his faulty idea of how the night should go, which itself is based on romcoms, not reality. But I am saying that this falsity, this feeling of being rejected when he never was, is what causes his tears. Because that kind of rejection does hurt, especially when the person rejecting you calls you a pompous asshole. It was never about manipulating Blitz. It was never about anything at all, aside from hurt feelings.

But speaking of Blitz’s response, you claim that no one talks about how it was also motivated by PTSD. I don’t know what side of the fandom you’re on, but I do see people talking about that. A lot. And I agree. In fact, I found his response a lot easier to empathize with than Stolas’. There have been so many times in my life where I felt like someone leaving an argument was the equivalent of them dismissing my concerns. Dismissing me. Abandoning me. But looking back on it, I can safely assume that the people I was arguing with weren’t trying to make me feel this way. Sometimes people walk away from difficult conversations because they aren’t ready for them. Sometimes people think that you’re saying something you aren’t. Sometimes people feel like yelling means you hate them, when you’re only doing it because you feel like you’re not being heard. Whether they’re wrong or right in doing so isn’t something I believe I can determine, and even if I could, I don’t think it would enrich my understanding of the world in a meaningful way.

Nevertheless, I am all too familiar with the impulse to categorize every statement, every action, every person as right or wrong. The clarity, however false it is, feels good. But in doing so, I would fail to see the nuance; I would miss the shades of grey, only limiting my vision further. Like Stolas, I would be stuck in a dichotomy of my own creation, unable to see the world around me for what it really is. Unable to understand the simple fact that some questions have a more complicated answer than yes or no.

Yes, Stolas Stans Tears Can Be Manipulative

I came across some Stolas stans that were offended that they said Stolas' crying was manipulative and trying to justify saying that it's a ptsd reaction to being yelled at due to his abuse by Stella. Funny they don't say this about Blitzo because he could be having a ptsd reaction due to how suddenly all this was sprung on him due to the abuse that Stolas put on him. Seriously, they always say how Stolas' abuse affected him but never the abuse he has done to Blitzo. It's always Stolas' issues that come first and Blitzo's are second. And again they hide behind Stella's abuse to excuse Blitzo's abuse because this means they are ignoring how abusive Stolas has been and even his backstory can't gloss over that elephant in the room.

But going back to those tears, I really do think they don't understand what how manipulative tears can be. Stolas is certainly using this as a way to appear the victim even though he says he's changed and wants to make things right by breaking the deal and giving Blitzo a choice. However, it comes off as tone deaf because he still is practically putting Blitzo on the spot and doesn't truly understand that due to the shit he put him through he might not be ready for a relationship with him. But then when he rejects him, he thinks he's the victim of this and acts like entitled prick when he doesn't get what he wants. That's why it's manipulative because despite saying he wants Blitzo to give a choice he still is focusing on what he wants and shows he doesn't handle rejection well. He still hasn't learned anything while delusionally believing he should be rewarded for doing barely the bare minimum amount of decency.

[officialleehadan]

Glass Temper

C

ity on Cliff

+++

Meira did not think much of the noble ladies of the north.

Oh, her soon-to-be mother-in-law was a delight, but she was an elf, not a human, and a queen to boot. That meant something rather different where behavior was concerned. The rest of the ladies were, in a word, frankly absurd.

For one, they seemed to shy away from doing anything for themselves. Meira always had maids of course, but her dresses didn’t require three people to get them on. She drew her own bath, accustomed to the ever-hot baths of Glassbyrn. She went down to the kitchen when she wanted a snack, rather than wasting a servant’s time.

All of that seemed to make her profoundly scandalous.

Then of course there was the way she talked to the tradesmen who came to the castle, often accompanied by Anseraen, who was madly in love with glassmaking. He was already planning to make more of the memory-bubbles for his parents and brothers. With Meira to help with the glass, he could pull memories from his family and give them their own eternal reminders of Haeleri. There were portraits of her around, but the memories were better.

Meira’s willingness to work the glass herself was apparently the final straw for the ladies, who had already been whispering about her behind her back. The princes did their best to stifle the rumors of course, but there was nothing for it. The court would have their gossip, and Meira was presently the most interesting thing going on.

Mostly it was manageable. Cut glass was as valuable as jewels, and her gowns were in the style of her own people, but were more than ornate enough to keep anyone from turning their noses up at her. Her hair styled well, her skin and teeth were good. All in all, it was hard to find a flaw with her appearance, except for her glass-scarred hands, which Meira simply wasn’t bothered by.

But the barbs still hurt.

“Yes,” she said, out of patience when she passed the latest, scandalized bunch of whisperers. She was dressed for the workshop today, because that was where she had been, helping Anseraen with his project for his family. The undyed cotton was very soft, but it was marked with the stains and holes. She carried her leather apron in one hand, and her hair curled out of her braid. “I am dirty, and my hands are scarred,. They got that way by making beautiful things.”

There was a wave of horrified silence following her words and Meira just glared around her indiscriminately. The ladies around her stared, apparently utterly shocked that she had bothered to notice their whispers, let alone that she had brought it up in public. Meira didn’t care if it was inappropriate. She was tired of being the target of their small-minded mockery.

“I am not the same kind of lady as you,” she continued, irate enough to make something of a spectacle of herself. Anseraen appeared in a doorway, but stayed quiet. Like her, he was in his work clothes. He raised a brow to ask if she needed help, and she shook her head a little. This was for her to handle or they would never respect her. “and amid my people, it is not fashionable to be useless. Would you care to demonstrate skill, just one, that is not purely ornamental No? I didn’t think so.”

She was snapping a bit. That was alright. It was time they saw she had some teeth.

“Moreover,” she said, gaining steam. Anseraen was starting to smile, so she assumed she wasn’t going to have problems with his family over her outburst. “Glassmaking is complicated, and takes years of study. That I am good at it speaks for my dedication to my craft. The glass of my city made my family royal, and we hold with the traditions of our home. So, if any of you squalling chickadees care to show an ounce of value amongst the lot of you, you can make your apologies to me in private. Until then, I am certain you can keep your tongues from wagging where I can hear them!”

With that, she resumed her path through the castle, and determinedly ignored the whispers that sprang up in her wake. Whispers that got much louder when Anseraen joined her from his hidden doorway. Before she could greet him, or indeed say anything at all, he bent and kissed her, slow and thorough. Meira’s knees went weak and she looped an arm around his shoulders to stay upright.

“Gracious,” she gasped when he pulled away, entirely smug with himself. “What was that all about?”

The court around them had gone utterly silent again, no doubt torn between astonishment and confusion. It wasn’t common to show such open affection in this court, nor was his open, and very apparent approval of her outburst. The court might think what it wanted, but Anseraen wasn’t about to say a word about it.

“I am not allowed to kiss my betrothed?” he asked with the kind of smile that threatened to make Meira’s knees go weak again, all on its own. He and his brothers took after their father’s eyes, but they took their fine features from their elvish mother. “Particularly when she is reminding my parents’ court of the fine traits that made me fall in love with her in the first place?

“I should have known you would be a wicked flirt, once you stopped looking so sad,” Meira told him and smiled. It was a joke between them, from when they had first started courting. It hadn’t been that long ago, but it felt like an age already. “Stop scandalizing your courtiers, my love, and let me change for dinner. I don’t want to eat with your family reeking of the workshops.”

+++

City on a Cliff:

Glass Shadow

Glass Heart 

Glass Fire  (Subscriber Only!)

Glass Light

Glass Wishes (Subscriber Only!)

Glass Bubbles

Glass Moon (Subscriber Only!)

Glass Question (Subscriber Only!)

Glass Water

Glass Cascade

Glass Welcome

Glass Whispers

Glass Temper (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[peachywrite]

Before I Let You Go

Rohan Kishibe x JosukeSister!Reader & Protective Brother!Josuke

Trigger Warning: violence, inappropriate stand use, mild suggestive themes

Josuke doesn't understand why his sister has been spending even more time with Morioh's Famous Mangaka.

Josuke sat himself down beside Koichi, the pair of friends awaiting the next delicious plate of specialty pasta Tonio was whipping up for them.

“You know, your sister has been hanging around Rohan quite a bit recently.” Koichi’s concern was evident in his tone of voice and the way he avoided eye contact with Josuke.

“What are you talking about? She just likes his art, is all. She’s always been into drawing and stuff since she was little.” Josuke tried to brush Koichi’s worries away, but he too was a bit suspicious of their sudden closeness.

Tonio returned with two heaping plates of authentic Italian pasta, smiling down as he placed each on the table. He gave a small bow and returned to the kitchen. Koichi poked at the new food with his fork, spinning it around as he began to speak.

“I mean, they’ve been hanging out with each other for a while now, but just recently it feels like something’s changed.” The two paused for a quick bite of their dishes and thought quietly to themselves, both suddenly coming to the same conclusion.

“Hey, Josuke. You don’t think your sister would ever date Rohan, right? What am I thinking, that’s a stupid question. It would never happen.” The shorter boy scratched his cheek nervously, staring down at his plate.

“I-I don’t know. She’s never had a boyfriend before. Rohan’s also too proud to date anyone, so we shouldn’t worry our heads over this, Koichi.” Josuke smiled at him, patting the gray-haired boy on the back to reassure him.

“I don’t know, it’s just… The other day, when I went over to return some photos to Rohan, I saw the two of them through the window. I couldn’t see exactly what they were doing, but it kinda looked like he was holding her hand? And placing a kiss on it? I don’t know though, the window was so high up, so I probably didn’t see anything.” Koichi’s voice wavered, the overwhelming silence from his friend concerning him.

He didn’t have the heart to look Josuke in the eyes at the moment, too afraid he may have let the young man down by not sharing this memory sooner. The dread in his heart outweighed his fears quickly, and Koichi looked up to see a Josuke imbued in the darkest aura imaginable. It reminded him of those terribly frightening spirits in the alley that tried to steal him that one day.

“Uh-Josuke? Is everything a-alright? I know I should have told you sooner, but I wanted to be a hundred percent sure about it before you could go off and beat up Rohan again.” Josuke silently nodded, pulling out his wallet and dropping enough to pay for both meals on the table as he scooted his chair in and began to leave.

“Josuke! We aren’t sure if they even are dating yet!” Koichi shouted.

Josuke turned around, a chilling smile spread across his face as he waved.

“No worries, Koichi. I’m off to find out. Sorry about leaving you, I’ll call Okuyasu to take my place while I’m out. I’ll see you later and tell you what I found out.”

All Koichi could do was stutter in surprise at Josuke’s changed demeanor.

Was he putting on a show to calm his nerves? Or was he actually thinking about how it would affect his sister if Rohan was dating her?

The boy returned to his meal, lost in thought, until a tired Okuyasu joined him at the table.

Josuke’s heart was conflicted. If y/n was really dating Rohan, that would mean she was probably in love with the mangaka. He knew his sister wore her emotions on her sleeve and would never fake a romance, but was that true for Rohan? Could he have used Heaven’s Door to make her love him?

He didn’t trust Rohan after what happened with the others, but he did save his life when they fought against Highway Star.

This is what conflicted him. Rohan had a good soul, but was he doing this because he truly loved y/n, or was this another trick to get back at him for the lost dice game or the partial burning of his mansion? Rohan was the kind of person to hold grudges for as long as he saw fit, so this frightened Josuke.

“You can tease and mess with me all you want, but as soon as you bring my sister into this, you’ve crossed the line.” He muttered under his breath, jogging to the café he knew the artist would probably be sitting at.

As he finally spotted the mangaka, enjoying a sip of tea between his quick sketches, he rushed past the hostess and right up to the table. Rohan was caught off guard, a bit frightened and prepared to use his stand until he saw the steak shaped head of hair.

“Josuke? You idiot, I almost attacked you. Why are you rushing me like an enemy?” He blew out his held breath and took another sip of tea.

Josuke pulled up a seat across from the artist, his hands neatly folded in front of him, eyes staring down as he tried to formulate the proper words without working himself up.

“Rohan, I heard from someone that you may be dating my sister. I just want to know if the rumor is true.” Rohan nearly spit out his cup of tea, the shock of the question taking him completely off guard.

After composing himself, the Great Rohan Kishibe began to sweat as he tried to decide whether he should divulge the truth. Y/n would want him to be honest, but he feared the beating Josuke would surely give him if he found out the two of you were dating.

“Your hesitation to answer is making me nervous, Rohan. You better speak up soon, or I’m gonna lose my patience.” The young delinquent spoke through gritted teeth.

“Fine. Yes, we are. We have been for at least a week now. I love her. It’s simple. Why are you asking me? You could have easily just gotten the same information from her.” Rohan took another sip of tea, hiding his face behind the cup as he tried to figure out how the young man would react.

Josuke’s hands reached out from across the table, grabbing Rohan by the collar and dragging him off to the side, so he could pull him in closer. The smashing of glass on the quiet block alerted the hostesses as they worriedly watched.

“Rohan-sensei! Do you need us to call the police?!” Shouted one of the waitresses, who had reached for her cellphone behind the counter.

“No, everything's alright. I can handle this.” Rohan waved her off, Josuke still dangling the man in the air.

“You better not be doing this to get back at me. I can take the teasing and the jabs at my intelligence, but I won’t let you make a mockery of my sister and her feelings.” Josuke lowered the man down, taking a breath to relax himself, then began to drag the manga artist off the café patio.

“Hey! Release me, you brute! Where are you taking me?!” Rohan struggled in his hold, trying to call Heaven’s Door out to control Josuke.

“We’re going to see y/n.” Rohan stopped fighting and instead calmly placed his hand on Josuke’s shoulder.

The boy stopped, turning around to meet Rohan’s stern face.

“I’ll go with you, just stop manhandling me.” Josuke stared into him, debating with himself, then let the manga artist go.

Rohan stumbled back to his feet, dusting himself off as he grumbled under his breath about how rude Josuke was being to him.

The two walked side by side towards the Higashikata residence. When they were nearly a block away, Josuke spotted you being dropped off by Jotaro. You waved goodbye to the older man, but turned around to face them after.

“Good grief.” Jotaro rolled his eyes with a sigh, leaning against the car as you spotted your brother and your boyfriend angrily walking toward you.

“What do you think is up with them?” You asked, curious as to why both seemed to be in foul moods.

“Looks like your brother found out who your boyfriend is. I’m only staying because I don’t want an unnecessary stand fight.” The marine biologist pouted to himself, annoyed.

You looked back at the pair, shaking your head in annoyance as well.

“I should have just told him from the start. I knew Rohan couldn’t keep quiet about this.” You motioned to the two of them to speed up, so you could talk.

As they reached you, Josuke grabbed onto Rohan again, dragging him by his collar with one hand.

“Why must you fling me around like a rag doll!? I already agreed to come with you!” Rohan shouted, squirming in Josuke’s death grip.

“Use Heaven’s Door on her.” Josuke mumbled to the mangaka.

All he could do was shake his head in response, his eyes wide at the order given to him by the delinquent. Suddenly, a second hand came up to grip the other side of Rohan’s collar, both now shaking him violently.

“I said use Heaven’s Door! I want to be sure you aren’t messing with her!” The tears that welled up in Josuke’s eyes shocked you.

You’d seen Josuke cry before, but these tears were different. He looked scared.

“Josuke, stop it! There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You placed a hand on Josuke’s back, your touch pausing his tirade and causing him to drop his hold on the artist. Helping him up, you touch Rohan’s cheek and nod to him.

“Rohan, I give you permission to use Heaven’s Door on me right now.” He shook his head again, adamant about his refusal.

“I won’t use it on you. Not for that bastard or for you. It’s not right.” You could tell how upset this was making Rohan. He turned his head away from you, not allowing you to meet his gaze.

“Rohan, please. He’s just scared. Just this once. I’ll never ask for you to do this again.” He finally meets your eyes and sighs.

His hands carefully touch your cheek as he whispers Heaven’s Door. The pages on your face open up and prevent you from moving, but you happily look up at the man, reassuring him that you felt safe and accepted this. Josuke came from behind the artist, flipping through all your pages quickly, searching for any scribblings Rohan could have made.

A few minutes pass and Josuke is finally content with his search. He closes the book on your face and your movement returns to you.

“See. Everything was fine. I really do like him. A lot, actually.” You pinch Josuke’s cheek.

Josuke pulls you into a tight hug as you feel his stress melt away. The mangaka crosses his arms, an angry pout on his face. All you can do is sigh and return the hug.

“I just wanted to be sure. If you were to get hurt because of me, I don’t know how I’d live with that.” He squeezes you tighter, your breath leaving your body quickly from his sheer strength.

“Josuke, it’s fine! Trust me! Now let go, you're crushing me.” You squirm, but your brother refuses to budge.

“I don’t think I will. If I let go, you’re gonna go give Rohan a hug, and I don’t want to see that.” The boy then lifts you with little effort and attempts to run, but his plan is foiled when your stand manifests and wraps around his legs, keeping him from moving.

“I see how it is, y/n. Fine, go be with your boyfriend, but no lovey-dovey stuff.” Your vines unwrap his legs as he sets you down.

You give your brother one last hug and a smile, running into Rohan’s arms. He still looks upset, but when you nuzzle into his chest, his anger melts away.

“I’m sorry you had to do that. It had to happen, though, so don’t be too mad at me. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” You look up at him, still in his arms, he leaves a quick peck on your cheek followed by a hefty sigh.

“You’re lucky I’m such a forgiving man.”

[kuroliondragon]

Status, Friendship and Love p.1 (Riddle Rosehearts x Reader)

The day of your crowned ceremony is approaching and yet Riddle no matter how much he tries can not get you out of his head. He very well knows that you, a royal and a princess no less, due to your status can not have any romantic relationship with him. Yet your view on the matter is different, will he be able to finally express his desire to be with you before the ceremony?

Warnings: reader is princess and a half dragon half human, angst, fluff, slight nsfw

Proper etiquette wasn't one of the things you were good at or had any pleasure of doing. You never really gave a thought about it, just because in your mind proper manners translated to restriction of freedom. In your lifetime in your kingdom you sure had a fair portion of what that included, and as any logical person you didn’t want it anymore than it should be. Of course what would they expect from you? The King had let you run around in the Kingdom, discarding every social rule that applied to you and instead applied new ones. Keeping you on restriction but on different level than the one of your siblings. That's how you were trained, to be a fighter, a warrior and a leader; not a princess. So, how could they expect you to be proper? It was only suffering for you and those involved.

Your guard and your servant had insisted that it was about time for you to start a different kind of training. You asked if you needed a sword or daggers with you but they only gave you a half embarrassed half reasuring smile and said "Don't worry, you won't be needing those.”

Back then you felt confused…Now you finally understood why you had to stay still, for what had been a hour all ready. You weren't able to move a muscle and if you did, you had the watchful eyes of Riddle and Vil scanning your every move. Of course, your servants had to put in charge of their plan these two queens. There wasn't anyone else who wasn't a better fit. On one side you had the beauty queen, Vil, measuring and fixing the dress you have been wearing for so long. On the other side, you had Riddle with his commentary on your dress and posture: 'Shoulders back!', 'Stay still!', 'Back straight as an arrow, Perfect!', 'Stop scrawling (Y/n)!' .

You were about to lose every nerve of patience you had. Maybe if it was only Riddle, maybe you could handle the situation. But having Vil there, was more than a pain if anything! You could never see eye to eye with him anyway, so why for the love of seven had he agreed?!

You were so deeply lost, raging for the fact that you had to spend all day with Vil and his rude commentary, that the second you felt the thin sharp point of the needle, you jumped in the sudden pain. With a quick yelp, you moved away from the two queens. " What the hell are you doing?" You hissed at Vil, who stood displeased, needle in hand.

"Can you please calm down." It sounded more like an order than a pleading question. He really is a queen isn't he?, you thought angrily. "If you hadn't moved, my fingers wouldn’t have slipped and we wouldn't have the situation we are facing now." Vil stated simply but the frown on his face kept scolding you on why you had moved.

"I tried to be as still as possible-" You tried to retort back but you were cut shortly by the dorm leader of Heartslabyul, "Is this language befitting for a future heir, as well as, the perfect of the Ramshackle dorm?" he strictly warned.

Both of the strict queens looked disapprovingly at you. But you had enough. You gave a low growl and turned your back at them. "Is that it now? Acting like a animal? Seems you are no better than Leona himself!" Vil snapped at you. Only for you to give a deeper, more pissed growl.

"In case you don't remember, Vil, I am half animal! Does the dragon eyes and horns don't tell anything to you?" While you did angrily began, your anger seemed to fade in a sort of mockery.

Vil gave a deep sigh and put the needle down. "As you wish then. You keep that animalistic attitude up and see how far you will come. Come to me, once you learn basic communication skills." he said and elegantly left the room.

You let a fierce yell as you ducked your fingers in your skull pulling your hair. "What is your problem?!" your yell directed to the door Vil had just existed. You let another small scream and only then turned to look at the other dorm leader, who hadn't said much —and you knew he had quite a lot to say—and had observed the whole ordeal.

"Are you done throwing a tantrum now?" Riddle's voice was anything but reassuring. He sounded more disappointed and angry than Vil.

"So, you are taking his side?" You looked at the dorm leader in disbelief.

"I am not taking any side. You should very well know how to act and talk as a future ruler. We all have different roles and we act as these role inquire as to. In the very near future you will be Queen or King, a very demanding and important role. Is this how you will sort your problems with growling and turning your back?" Riddle's grey eyes narrowed.

You frowned at his words. You knew he was right. You knew you couldn't keep up that attitude. And yet, Riddle's words hurt more than you imagined. The way his displeased and warning eyes laid on you, were making you feel as if your friend didn't like you for who you were. "Well…if you are so bothered by it…then you can go. Nobody is keeping you here Riddle." You irritatingly declared. You sat down on the nearest chair and looked down on your lap. You gridded your teeth and pressed your nails deep in your palms. If he didn't want you to be his friend, now that you were going to be a ruler, then it was better to let him go the sooner the better…

Riddle sighed and you heard his heels clicking on the floor, moving. You didn't say anything, stayed still, gritting your jaw together in case tears decided to slip from your eyes. You hoped Riddle wouldn’t leave, that he wouldn't leave you alone. If he did that, then did that mean he never trully cared? Did you mean nothing to him?

You were cut off guard when a pair of Heartslabyul heels appeared in your vision and soon a very concerned Riddle squatted in frond of you. He gently took your trembling hands in his. His hands slowly caressed yours in a reassuring manner. He gave them a gentle squeeze and placed your hands in his lips, planting a soft kiss on your fingers. Even through you were instantly relived from your dark thoughts of Riddle leaving you, you had another problem. Moving your hands slightly away and leaning your back deep in the chair you covered your mouth in embarrassment.

Riddle knew you were taken aback with the sudden display of affection. But it wasn't the first time he had made such a gesture. There was one time —the very first one— were he fixed your uniform's cravat and much to his surprise then, you were blushing red. Riddle couldn't deny that he loved making small gestures like these. They were gentlemanly and they weren't as embarrassing for him as it would be holding hands in the hallway while facing the stares of every student of NRC.

"W-What…W-what are you doing?" You asked with stuttering voice.

Riddle took your hands in his again. Gently, barely touching, holding only the lower half. His mind warning him not even a millimeter higher. So in that way he was basically holding your fingers. Holding them in a friendly platonic way, his heart hoping to be more on the romantic side but his mind hissing that would be improper, not only to you as his friend but to your future status as a ruler as well. Riddle took another deep sigh. His heart and head wanted two different things and he needed to balance his situation, before you could realize the romantic feelings under his friendly mask and damage your reputation and friendship in the process.

"Relax." He gave you a small smile with bits of concern painted all around it. He gave another but this time small sigh. The situation was getting difficult to act on. “Truth is…I am very worried about you. I do what I do, to help you. I don't want you thinking of me as some malicious tyrant.”

You who appeared to be back to your cheeky self after Riddle's explanation, added with a little mischief "So you are saying that you aren't a tyrant?" You flashed him a toothy grin.

Riddle noticed your small yet sharp canines and he caught himself thinking how would it be to be kissed by those lips, those sharp fangs biting on his bottom lip… he imagined himself squirming a bit in your embrace. He would hold you by the neck and occasionally plant soft butterfly kisses on your shoulders, blushing at the contact. You would hold him by the waist, pressing him gently in your lap, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he would, if he had enough courage. He would most definitely let you do the work, he was inexperienced in that arena and he would not know what to do without dying from embarrassment. He lost himself for bit in his little daydream that up until now he never had. He could not afford to daydream, he always had important tasks and duties that needed to be done. But now, as the days of your coronation neared he seemed to be indulging himself in those daydreams even more.

No matter how much he wanted, he couldn’t be with you. The first problem is your friendship, he didn't know if you felt the same for him. Second, is your status. You would be King or Queen of an Empire and he, even though have been taught the way's of nobles, was a commoner from the Rose Kingdom. No one would support this relationship, it would be nothing but a pleasant dream.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to bring Riddle back to his senses, only for his poor face to blush strawberry red the minute the thought about his daydreaming-and-not-so-pure-hearted thoughts struck like lightning in his mind. His slate grey eyes went wide and his lips trembled at the lewd direction his mind dared to have wondered. There was no way he was actually having such thoughts!

He raised his grey eyes facing your gaze. Those piercing eyes of yours, always calculating, always observing, always strategically placed their gaze.... as if they had a mind of their own. If given the chance...would...would they pin him with an unforgiving stare? Would they look at his form and long for it? Would they look at his lips with hunger?

“Riddle...Riddle!” You shouted trying to get the dorm leader's attention once again. But his lost expression showed you that he definitely wasn’t in this reality at the moment. You decided to shook him a bit and yelled his name again.

Riddle let a surprised scream, “W-What?!” as he jumped back in shock.

“You have been really out of it lately...is there anything bothering you?”

Your concern was visible and Riddle’s heart cried in pain when he couldn’t answer the question properly. To admit his blossoming feelings, that grew day by day? To admit how much he longed for you, that even a small moment with you was all he wanted to start his every day? To admit that taking care of you was his priority, that he would give up everything just to see your smile? But Riddle couldn’t say such statements, so he gulped down any rebelling thoughts of telling you his feelings right then and there and answered with a “It isn’t me you should be worrying about, but you.”

He took a breath and stood up, “If you are feeling better, we should move on to Table Manners instead.”

You gave him a weak smile but said nothing more.

[moonlit-imagines]

Keep Your Cool

Charles Xavier x student!reader (platonic)

warnings: anxiety/panic attacks

a/n: ty anon, you’re so sweet! did do a few minor changes that would keep charles true to his character but thats about it!!

prompt: anonymous: “Hi! I’m so glad your back and I hope you’ve had a great break! Can I request a Charles Xavier x student!Reader (platonic)

Charles meets this new troubled mutant teen with ice powers. They’re totally new to the school and isn’t so happy about being there. They are always pretty talkative or more like nervous chattering and isn’t doing what they’re supposed to on lessons like being absent, sleeping or talking which leads to them being sent to Charles office a lot. This time Charles can’t help but snap at them for not taking things seriously and he accidentally triggers a little panic attack which Charles notice and he tries his best to help them calm down. Later on they tell him about them having bad anxiety. He feels really bad for not noticing and tries to help the reader the best he can. A little angsty fluff?

This type of anxiety isn’t really represented that much and I think it would be good for people to know that you don’t have to be extremely introverted to have anxiety. BUT if you don’t feel like writing this I support that. I wouldn’t want you to do something you don’t wanna do. Sending all my love!😘 also don’t be shy if you wanna change something!”

“Come in!” Professor Xavier announced from behind his desk after hearing a pound on the door. Lo and behold, it was you who walked through the door. “Mx. l/n, what a surprise,” he sarcastically remarked, “what seems to be the trouble this time?”

“Well, you see, Prof,” you began while pulling up a chair and ignoring the disappointed expression on Charles’ face, “I was just so, so nervous about finals that I was tossing and turning the whole night, you know? So I got like, zero sleep, no biggie.” The Professor intently listened with his elbows propped onto the oak finished desk, fingers pressed together. “A kid needs their sleep, and how could I get any if I was like, super focused on finals? I think I should be rewarded for how dedicated I am, just saying.”

“Go on...” Charles could feel your emotions through your presence, there was a suppression of emotions from within you, but oddly enough, your mutation had been a huge help at hiding things from nosy telepaths. Seriously, you thought the ice was cool, but hiding your feelings and thoughts from someone as powerful as that was next level. It did have some downsides, though.

“Right, so,” you shifted to an improper posture and scratched the crown of your head, “I actually took a little catnap myself ‘while the lesson was in progress.’” Your air quotes were a direct mockery of your teacher, which only irked the headmaster a bit more that he already was now that he’d visited with you three times this week.

“You do realize that finals aren’t for another four months, y/n?” Professor Xavier pointed out a fact that you were well aware of, but the excuse was worth a shot.

“Can never be too prepared.” You shrugged, signifying your absolute carelessness for being a deviant student in a school that did nothing but accommodate for all your needs...well, almost all of them.

“Enough is enough, y/n!” Charles snapped, rubbing his fingers along his temples as he tried to bare with this situation that made him think his mind was playing tricks on him. Were his problems replaying? “I am growing tired of your excuses, this school was an opportunity for you and you’re so close to blowing it for yourself. Is that what you want?” As the Professor continued his rant, the temperature felt as if it’d dropped a by a few degrees.

You sat in your seat, knees now pressed against your chest as you gave Charles a menacing stare, unable to speak or reply to the Professor. Ice was beginning to glaze over the windows of his office, freezing them shut. The door was a no-go as well, no one could move that handle if they tried.

“Y/N?” An expression of concern surfaced on Charles’ face as he sat up and tried to assess the situation. “Y/N, are you alright?” You shook your head in response and noticed some ice crystals forming on yourself, some had been weighing your eyelashes down while others were poking off your arms. Defense mechanism or just a “fun” little reaction to panic?

You were observing the effects of this panic attack only with a swivel of your eyes, not any more movement than that. The Professor was still asking you questions, but you’d tuned him out entirely. He could wait for you, he’d have to.

Despite the room now about twenty degrees cooler, you were feeling quite toasty. And you were thinking about five minutes into the future. What do I do when this is over? Do I have to explain myself? How the hell am I getting out of here? Should I stop? Can I stop? What if I—

You felt a hand carefully rest itself on your shoulder, you couldn’t help but jump. “Could you take a deep breath for me?” Charles asked with more compassion in his eyes, seems that he’s realized his mistake by now. You did happen to struggle with his request for a moment, but catching your breath did eventually happen. It did take a few extra tries to control, though. Soon, you were able to stop the spread of any more ice that could prove an inconvenience.

“Panic attack.” You admitted without being asked.

“I gathered.” Professor Xavier was stationary beside you, you may have frozen his chair to the floor. “I apologize for triggering one, I’m not used to being unable to sense someone’s emotions. I would have known were to stop or how to go about that much better if...”

“If it wasn’t for my mutation?” You finished the sentence he stopped because he thought it sounded selfish, like he was placing the blame on you.

“Precisely.” Charles took a deep breath and you decided that you should do the same. The two of you sat in silence as you surveyed all the exits and realized you were in a new predicament. “I don’t suppose you can unfreeze things, can you?”

“That I cannot.” You picked at some of the eyelash icicles and flicked them away. “Any students with a warmer mutation?” You suggested with an apologetic smile.

“I’ll call Doctor McCoy.” The Professor grabbed his wheels and realized that he would not be going anywhere anytime soon. “Y/N?”

“Professor?”

“Could you dial Dr. McCoy’s lab for me? Nine-six-three.” He instructed as you reached over the desk in compliance. The speaker rang a few times and another voice was finally heard on the other side.

“Dr. McCoy! Hi, it’s y/n, your favorite kid on campus,” you greeted, peering over to Charles who was silently urging you to get to the point, “yeah, me and the Prof seem to be in...a predicament. You got like, a heat lamp or something. Maybe Scott Summers? Cool, cool. Yeah, I did! Impressive, I know. Yeah, okay, see you in a few. Or like, an hour. But we will hear you from the other side of the door! Okie doke, bye!” By the time you’d finished your conversation, Charles couldn’t help but smirk at how you handled the after-effects of your situation.

“Well, it seems we have some free time,” Professor X. pointed out, “would you care to tell me a bit more about your anxiety? If you’re comfortable, that is...”

taglist: @locke-writes // @randomawesomeperson102 // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove //

[uponrightful]

You brought this on yourself 🤣 I love how you give Crosshairs point of view so often, but I gotta admit, I was wondering what Dutch was thinking here…it’s all about the spicy longing for me… so

Carefully he wrapped his arms around her, and covered her hands with his own; Caging in her upper body to stabilize the little shake of the gun by taking some of the weight off her arms.

“Confident?” He asked with a hint of mockery to hide his weakening resolve.

She settled back against him tighter, and with a resolved breath she answered;

“With you…? Definitely.”

Such a good fucking girl. He sprawled over her hips with his own, and pulled himself tight against her. Steadying his breathing just long enough to make sure she could follow it easily enough.

“Then take your shot.” He ground out heavily against the shell of her ear.

Crosshair watched the shot leave his rifle, and could already tell she’d made a direct hit. It was actually perfect, and he couldn’t help but loose his concentration from the sensation of her body jolting back against him. She’d handled it flawlessly, but he didn’t miss the little whimper that escaped her when the gun rocked back into her shoulder once again. He wanted her to take one more shot, begging for another just one more excuse to feel her underneath him. To Cross’ utter shock, Duchess began laughing happily at the mere sight of finally hitting her target.

Commentary Track for Coriolis Effect

Copy 500 words -or more- of any of my fics and I'll give you my thoughts/rambles on what was going through my head -or the character's- when I wrote it!

* send one in here *

*cracks my knuckles* "Ask and you shall recieve my loveley" I say as I chuckle deviously. In no way does my fianceé send a worried look in my direction as I start typing furiously.

***

To begin, Dutch chose to lay prone for a reason. It's actually not the best position for herself -fundementally- and she chooses to ignore that because it's how she pictures Crosshair doing it. That mental image of his shooting like this is ingrained in her mind, and Dutch has too much interest in him to try and position herself any differently. His rilfe is longer than standard, weighs at least six pounds more, his trigger is softer, and the scope sits a little too high to see from it clearly at this angle. All of that comes within seconds of holding it, but Duchess ignores all of that against her better judgement. It's a taunt, as much as it is an impulse to put herself in his preverbial shoes. She can literally feel Crosshair watching her, and althought that's a very distracting thought, Dutch is set on impressing him.

Note: This choice -of positioning- was made not just for logistics, but also because it fits her personality. Duchess isn't shy, and she is certainly not inexpereinced. I thought about this being a "standing" scene but Dutch wouldn't let me. 😅 Although she is extremely independent, her character's biggest weakness is a strong desire to impress -or be accepted. This stems not only from her time with Phantom Squad, but also from the lack of times in her life that someone has told her "good job". When she chooses to lay down, she's literally opting out of the security she would have of making an accurate shot, just to take a chance on impressing Crosshair. That's a risk/guess... But Duchess isn't afraid to try anyways.

The whole time she's actually a lot more concerned with making her shots than anything else. Constantly checking her form and doing anything she's learned in the past to prove that her size isn't a limiting factor like Crosshair says it is. Her shoulder hurts, and although it would otherwise be enough to make her stop -she has her own career effectiveness to worry about- Dutch isn't leaving until dominates this gun. It's not until she hears Crosshair's sigh that it clicks in her mind that he's still watching her struggle, but not taken the oppertunity to stop her from continuing.

Note: Weapons mirror their users. And when I created Duchess, I made the serious decision that a lot of her ability to characterize others would come from their armor and weapons. That's just who she is, and what she knows best. So, in this scene... Dutch is literally equating Crosshair's rilfe, as to a part of him. If it's harsh, that means he is as well... If it's a sensitive model, that says something about Cross. If she can't control it easily, that's an indicator of the man who wields it. Really pay attetion to the way I compare Crosshair to his 'Puncher throughout the fic. I do it with extreme purpose, and although it's not always easy to spot, there are many times I allude to their symbiotic nature.

The moment Crosshair is close enough to touch, all of that subtle teasing about his weapon from earlier is gone. Ultimatley, Duchess can have a smart mouth, and know how exactly how to use it. But Cross presents a whole new kind of intimidation that she doesn't know how to handle. For Duchess, power only comes in two ways: Physical Prowess, or Rank -wheather that by government facilitated, or sibling rank due to the Phantoms. She's never experienced the way Crosshair acts twoards her. Duchess knows he respects her -because of he he listens to her seriously- but he also challenges her to do things she'd be otherwise criticized for with a hint of disbelief. (Like mouthing off, or betting that she couldn't shoot his rifle, despite that being against regulation.)

The moment he puts his leg between hers, Dutch is a ball of nervousness. Sex is nothing new to her, but that kind of confidence in particular, is completely foreign. Normally she's the one who initiates things like physical dominance in personal space. Dutch is so caught off guard, and her whole body freezes up, because she's realising that she likes Crosshair doing that. It's a release of power that she's constantly holding up, and that kind of vulnerability is hard to let go of after making such a habit of about being the strong one. After all, since Phantom Squad, she's had to depend on herself alone.

It's when he grabs ahold of her jaw and tells her to relax that she's really down bad. 🥵 She knows it should be nothing but a technical comment on her form, but he's commanding about it . Literally ordering her to let go, and release that tension. That feels fucking amazing to hear and feel, coming from a stoic guy like Crosshair. She knows his rifle is harsh, and occasionally he is as well; But that's becoming all the more desirable the more he directs her. Pushing her down against the floor, guiding her back against him... Doing simple things, but silently demanding she follow his orders. Duchess doesn't have to do anything -or think about anything- other than letting him take the lead, and she's daydreaming about if he's like that in other areas.

Note: Duchess takes a fully submissive role here. She's fully receptive to Crosshair's leadership, and it's because she enjoys being thought of as weak -or little- on occasion. Her background is full of war accolades, and confidential missions she knows to be successful. All of it culminating in this unspoken war register of a badass woman who fights like a clone trooper. But that's not realistic to uphold all of the time. Everyone likes to be taken care of sometimes, and Duchess just happens to really like someone taking control every once and a while. And with Crosshair, she feels safe enough to let that happen, and also enjoy the sexual aspect she's been thinking about all this time as well.

Duchess admits to feeling confident with him here for two reasons. Number one, she's still trying to be a little teasing. It's natural to have a little fight in her all the time, and with Crosshair, she thinks that flusters him. (She's right by the way...) But secondly, it's her desire to show trust. Crosshair might be fit right up against her, whispering sexual innuendos in her ear, but Dutch ultimately feels safe like this . The rifle isn't going to hurt as bad, she's going to hit the target, and Crosshair's weight is emotionally grounding. They might be attempting to do some target practice, but Duchess is literally getting the equivalent of a weighted blanket and reassurance that her true self isn't unworthy of attention. Plus, it's coming from a man who otherwise appears completely disregarding of anything with a noticable flaw... That's something Dutch will never forget. The best sniper in the GAR is helping her... And he's happy to do so, by getting as up-close and personal as a man could get.

His hands cover her own, rough and calloused, but they're unbelievably gentle. Cross is almost hesitant, and Duchess can tell he's actively trying to ease her tension. The way he speaks is soft, and quiet... Making her feel like jelly. Being asked to follow his breathing pattern, his arms tight around her, legs somewhat twisted into hers, his thigh tight against her core... It's all seductive, and essentially surrounding her body with him. And Dutch can't help but eat it up. She wants more. No one has ever done something so simple, but effective in drawing out her desire to think of herself as something worth coddling -in a sense.

Duchess might hit that target in the end... But the only reason she did was because Crosshair had relaxed her enough so he could aim . (She didn't make that shot. Crosshair did all the work, she just pulled the trigger.) It was the first time Duchess felt like she was being tended to fully, and that's that had her acting so lighthearted at the end.

***

I fucking love writing these. Please don't ever stop sending them in!😅🤍

[wooyunhwa]

kingdom of welcome addiction | five

view pinned post for masterlist / links to the rest of the parts!

Genre: smut (with plot), angst

Pairing: demon!san x fem!reader / ???yunho x fem!reader 

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: overstimulation, finger sucking, multiple orgasms, use of toys

Synopsis: Torn between two opposing forces competing for your attention, who will you choose? Will San’s secrets finally come to light?

A/N: Finally some backstory! Strap in! Thank you for reading and comments are super appreciated as always! <3 love you all

“I’ve been assigned to protect her.”

“From what?” San asked, relaxing his hostile stance back a bit. 

Yunho glanced at you, then back at San, uneasiness coming through in his gaze. 

“From you.”

“From me?” San laughed mockingly.

“They’re not happy with you, San. Up there.” Yunho gestured vaguely upwards. Was heaven actually up? 

“Tell me something I didn’t know,” San muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m not talking about that,” Yunho said seriously. “I’m talking about you saving her. They take fate pretty seriously.” 

“So what, you’re like the protector of fate now? Give me a break,” he sneered, voice tinged with mockery. With the way they bickered, you’d think they were some old divorced couple. 

“You guys are talking like I’m not in the room. Can someone explain to me what’s going on?”

Yunho’s hand rubbed against your leg. You weren’t sure exactly how to feel about his touch now, knowing he was a celestial being and not just a cute human boy, but it did feel nice. Comforting somehow, even in this situation.  “When San saved you, he altered your fate.”

“You’re saying I’m supposed to be dead?”

“Well, yes. While you should be dead, we angels don’t exactly endorse killing humans, even if it was their fate. But that’s why I was reassigned. Your original guardian… well, he couldn’t watch over you any more.”

You felt as cynical as San for a minute, rolling your eyes at Yunho’s implication. “Sounds like the original guardian wasn’t doing a very good job then, if he was gonna let me die.”

San laughed from his position, poised against the counter top casually. His fangs glistened as his mouth formed a familiar smirk. “That’s my girl.” 

Yunho was entirely unamused, but turned to face you fully, face lingering entirely too close. “Either way, I’m here to watch over you now. Make sure he—” He shot a poisonous glare at San. “—doesn’t alter fate again. You’re in big trouble, by the way.” 

San smiled sarcastically, eyes like daggers as they met with Yunho. “What are they gonna do, hmm? Banish me?” He wiggled his fingers mockingly. “Oh no, I’m soooo scared.”  

“Anyway,” he pulled his gaze back to you now, eyes sparkling like the stars as they met with yours. The way he looked at you, you’d think you were the only two in the universe. “If this impulsive idiot hadn’t ruined it—” He shot another deathly glare at San. “—I was going to watch over you from here. As your classmate. Angels aren’t typically permitted to get this close to their assignments, but you’re a special case. I was given a lot of flexibility.”

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” San sneered through his teeth. “Classmate, my ass. I saw how your hands were all over her.”

“Don’t you have some souls to eat somewhere? Virgins to sacrifice?” Yunho taunted in his direction. 

“Fuck. Actually, I do. I’m getting a call.” San turned on his heels. “Don’t think I’m letting this one go,” he said, but he was gone before you could even get a parting word out to him. 

Your mind felt like it had been reduced to a steaming pile of mush after your conversation with the two of them—well, more like you listening to them bicker. Either way, there was too much information to take in at once. In a matter of minutes, your cute human crush became your cute angel guardian. Well, you supposed he always was, but the fact that you knew it made it feel so much more strange. 

But a few things hadn’t changed. 

He still sparkled like the stars to you. You had already fallen for him hopelessly, the minute you saw him walking into your classroom, you knew that to be fact. Nothing about your attraction to him had changed. Whether or not his ethereal glow was because he was incredibly handsome or  because he was very literally an angel changed any of that fact for you. His touch still gave you goosebumps. His soft smile in your direction still made your heart race. He was still the embodiment of light, glowing like a beautiful aurora. He radiated the positivity you needed so desperately.

And you were alone with him.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” he said, his hand still rested on your thigh. “About me being your guardian. I was hoping I could get to know you better first. Just as Yunho. I didn’t anticipate San showing up unannounced.”

You skipped right past his apology, needing answers. “So—Why? Why’d you kiss me? If I’m just your assignment?” you questioned angrily. But a part of you didn’t even want to ask him why. You just wanted to do it again. 

“It was genuine,” he promised. “It wasn’t planned. But it was genuine. We angels may not be human, but we have a bit more humanity than that demon. We have souls. They’re just not… bound by the human realm.”

You had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but he looked beautiful saying it. You felt like you couldn’t possibly take in any more information than you already had without completely losing it. You winced suddenly, noticing your head beginning to ache. 

“Y/N, are you okay? W—Would you like me to leave?” Yunho asked softly, sensing the look on your face. It was odd to have him asking. San usually just left whenever he wanted to, disappearing into the ether without a trace. 

“Leave? Do you just... disappear out of thin air like San does?” you asked seriously. 

Yunho chuckled, his laugh like music to your soul. “No, no. I’d have to walk out the door. And take the bus.”

“What kind of angel takes the bus?” you jested, assuming he was joking. 

“It’s part of my assignment. I’m not exactly human, but I don’t have all my angel powers either. I was supposed to blend in as much as possible. So I play by the laws of the universe now,” he chuckled. “Speaking of, just because I’m an angel, doesn’t mean I’m not actually worried about passing that class.” 

You burst into laughter at the ridiculousness. He was an angel who had to take the bus and do homework? What a shitty deal. You were enjoying his company, and you didn’t want him gone just yet. “To answer your earlier question, you can stay. You’re supposed to be protecting me, right? I’d feel safe if you were around.”

He smiled warmly. You realized his hand was still on your thigh, and his face a lot closer than you remembered. He looked so soft and inviting, and you remembered the way he kissed you earlier. It was soul-warming, like a comfort food you ate as a child, something your mom would make for you. 

“I’d love to stay and protect you. And not just because it’s my job,” he said charmingly, eyes forming into two cute crescents on his face. He was absolutely glowing. 

No matter how you looked at it, he and San were magnets with opposing forces, and yet they both drew you in equally. 

You leaned into a kiss without thinking, your eyes trained only on his soft, inviting lips. You melted into them as you collided, immediately overwhelmed with the gentle way his lips met yours. He reciprocated against you, hands moving from your thighs to cupping softly on the small of your waist, pulling you against him. Everything he did was passionate, yet tender. He handled you like the most delicate glass, like you could break at any moment and he would be there to put the pieces back together. You pushed your body against him, sinking into the soft, thick fabric of his sweater. He felt like a cloud. 

He was San’s very literal antithesis. And something in you needed that right now more than anything. 

You pushed your tongue in his mouth, indicating you wanted to escalate things. You fisted your hands into his pillowy sweater, grasping at him to pull him in closer against you. He moaned against your mouth, and the sound sent tingles all the way down your spine. 

But he pulled away, leaving you grasping desperately at the fabric of his sweater.

“I can’t do this in good conscience,” he said, brows furrowed with concern. Wow, he really was San’s antithesis. 

“Is it breaking angel code to make out with your assignment?”

“Well, no. Technically, I’m free to do whatever I want as a human bound here for now. I just want to make sure you’re not doing something you regret. It’s all very fast.”

You sighed, breaking away from him, though you craved his lips even more now that the taste lingered on your tongue. The silence felt deafening��you wanted to hear more of Yunho’s angelic moans against your ear. Moments like this made you miss San’s impulsivity. You knew if he was here he’d be all over you. 

“Can we cuddle, at least?” you asked, gaze drifting up and down from his soft lips to his even softer sweater. He was like a marshmallow you wanted to sink down into. He was everything you needed right now. Pure comfort. 

He nodded softly, repositioning himself against the arm of the loveseat. He motioned between his legs, creating a nice wedge for you to cuddle up in. You curled up against him, your head sinking down softly in the pillowy sweater. He wrapped his arms around you protectively. You weren’t sure, but you thought you heard him singing to you as you drifted to sleep. 

You woke up to a note on the fridge, scribbled neatly and punctuated with hearts and smiley faces. He was so effortlessly pure. Even his handwriting was cute.

Morning class, can’t miss! Sorry. See you in Advanced Religion? 

You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. What a dork. He’d just revealed himself as an angel, and yet he was worried about missing class? To be honest, you really couldn’t afford to miss any classes either, but there were so many unanswered questions still swirling around in your head. You needed San.

After cleaning yourself up thoroughly, you decided to summon him in your room, something you hadn’t done for a while. 

“Early for you to be calling me.” You swiveled on your heels, your face immediately met with San’s chest. You stumbled back a few steps, but he caught your waist in his arms, pulling you in to him. “Nice to hear you calling, darling. I’d say you smell sweet, but you reek of angel.” He glanced around suspiciously. “Is he still here?”

“No, he left before I even woke up.”

San sighed, then trained his gaze on you, crimson eyes lighting up like a fire. “Good. You know, I’ve missed you, lamb.” He drew his finger across your chin, tipping you up to his eyes like he always did before he wanted something. “Care to play with me this morning?”

You didn’t feel like entertaining his games right now. “No, not really. I have a lot of questions I need to be answered.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted sarcastically, before leaning back against the desk in your room. “Alright, let’s get this over with before I get called elsewhere.”

“Earlier, you came in without being called. I thought I had to call you for you to appear. In the alley, too. How?”

He sighed, rubbing his forehead with two fingers, reluctant to answer your questions. “I can do it, but it’s a risk. Like working without a contract. Goes against the demon rulebook, or whatever. But I was willing to break some rules when I saw that angelic asshole with his hands all over you,” he said, putting extra spiteful emphasis into referring to Yunho.  

“You guys… have history, I take it?”

“It’s a long story. I’d rather not get into it right now,” he responded dismissively. “Anything else?”

“Were you watching me?”

“I—only a little. Just enough to see you mouth-fucking with that angel bitch,” he sneered through his teeth.

Damn. Touchy subject. 

“Are you trying to say we’re exclusive or something? Because that most certainly wasn’t the impression I got from this relationship.”

San’s eyes narrowed, pushing himself off the desk to close the distance between you. He ran a fingernail down your neck, making sure to drag over every bite mark. “No. We’re not. But I feel... protective of you.”

“Well then don’t worry about Yunho. It’s his job to protect me.”

San rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t say he’s exactly trustworthy,” he grumbled under his breath, then quickly focused back on your neck. “Ugh, darling, won’t you let me have a little fun? I’ve had a rough week.”

You pulled away, dropping your gaze. “I—I need to go. To school. I’m late.”

San clicked his tongue, looking at you with a look of displeasure. “You’re really no fun. You’re the one who called me here, lamb. No tears? No blood? Not even a taste of your lips?” 

“Bye, San. Don’t come back unless you’re called, understand? Or I’m done making contracts.” You met his eyes seriously. “Forever.”

Seeing Yunho at school was… strange, to say the least, after his big reveal to you. You had made a routine of getting there early just to watch him come through the door, and your new information about his job didn't change any of that. 

It seemed like the other girls in class caught on to getting there early too, seated expectantly for him to walk through the door, tall and model-esque. You'd even heard girls whispering about him in the halls—the new blue haired boy who every girl on campus wanted a piece of. They drew their heads up as he ascended the lecture hall stairs to make his usual seat next to you, like they were watching a celebrity. 

Inspiration struck. As he sat down next to you, you gave him a flirtatious wink, then pulled him in for a casual, but slightly drawn out kiss. You let your lips linger against his for a few seconds afterwards, eating up the jealous stares of your classmates. You wanted to mark him yours. After all, he was your guardian. 

He looked at you with wide eyes, and you took his hand, lacing his fingers in yours. “Go with it,” you whispered discreetly in his direction. 

He gave your hand a light squeeze, leaning back in to give you a soft peck on the cheek to seal the deal. 

And just like that, he played the role of your college boyfriend. But it was just a role. Acting. In a sick way, you loved the jealous, spiteful stares you got as you walked down the hall with him. And he was able to keep a closer eye on you without being hunted down by every girl on campus trying to flirt with him. It was a mutual agreement. 

You were still entirely enamored by him, you crush in full bloom. Playing the role of his girlfriend was satisfying, but not in the way you needed it to be. He was sweet, but distant—you assumed he was trying his best to stay objective, to not get too wrapped up in his assignment. But you wanted so much more.

He sometimes came over to your place to study, and you rarely even mentioned his angelic presence. He requested that you treat him normally, like any other human, although that was pretty much asking the impossible. He certainly wasn’t, and would never be, like any other human. 

He still glowed like an aurora and sparkled like the stars. You wanted to cuddle up into him and never let go. You wanted to spend your days nestled in his arms. A few times, you did, falling asleep curled up on his chest on the couch like you had the first day he came over. 

But you couldn't help but want more.

Your lonely nights had made you needy. 

Yunho wasn't quite ready to go there with you yet, as he very clearly defined when you came onto him the first night he came over, and you'd been avoiding San like the plague. Not that it was hard—all you needed to do was not summon him. And you hadn't, for a while actually. 

But your hand wasn't doing it for you today. You needed more. You needed San.

You were partly joking about him being your demon prostitute, but he kind of was now that you were calling him exclusively to get you off.  Not that you were complaining about that. You were trying to distance yourself from him emotionally, but that didn't mean you couldn't have him help you with your physical needs. 

You put on your best set of lingerie, a black lacy set you weren’t really even sure why you had, and displayed yourself sexily on the bed. Not that you needed lingerie to entice San, but you figured it couldn’t hurt. 

He appeared with a low growl, eyes immediately glazing over with lust. “What’s this darling? Finally want to have a little fun?”

“I want a contract, San. I don’t care what you do for me—clean my kitchen, make me dinner, I don’t care—but your reward is my body. Take it or leave it.”

“Very forward of you today,” he said with an amused smirk. “I like it.”

“Your answer?”

“Fine, I accept. But I have a condition.”

He wasn’t in much of a position to give conditions, but you nodded, urging him to continue. 

“You’ve left me waiting for so long. I want to have a little fun with my prey first, hmm? That vibrator in there.” He gestured his head to your nightstand, the top drawer where you kept your pink silicone vibrator. It was small, compact, and admittedly expensive. It also came with a fully customizable bluetooth remote.  “It’s remote, right?”.

“It’s remote capable, yeah.”

His lips pulled into a sinister smile, eyes darkening, and you realized what was happening.

“I want to watch you squirm. I love watching you. My helpless little lamb," he cooed, stepping over to your nightstand to pull it out.

“Wait, but how did you know that was—”

“I may or may not have done some snooping in your room while you were asleep the other night.” He flashed you his fangs, eyes glimmering playfully. “You should know not to trust a demon, darling.” He twirled the vibrator between his fingers, glancing from it to you, still laying in wait on the bed. “Did you put on that pretty number just for me? You look… delicious in it.” He drew his tongue over his teeth, then took a seat on the edge of the bed. 

His hand traced over your skin, from your neck down to your breasts, stomach, hips, then between your legs, circling your clit through your panties. You had missed his touch desperately, although if you were being honest, it wasn’t his you necessarily missed. You missed intimate touch at all. 

He leaned forward to plant a kiss, surprisingly gentle, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip. “Tonight’s about you, my lamb. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to have my fun.”

You were already wet before he got here, hopelessly horny and waiting for his arrival. You were now even more so. The lace of your panties was completely soaked as he danced his fingers across it. He pulled the seam of the lingerie to the side, just enough to slip the vibrator inside of you. His other hand held the remote. His eyes were fixed on you, power erupting beneath his crimson irises. 

He had you literally in the palm of his hand. The smallest touch on the remote, and he was completely in control. He did not take that power lightly. He turned it on, the light buzz immediately sending vibrations through you like waves. Your mind soared in pleasure, whimpers escaping from your lips.

“That���s cute. That’s just the low setting, darling,” he cooed, pressing the lace of your panties back between your legs. He pressed a hand on your stomach, feeling the way your core trembled under his touch. “To your feet,” he commanded suddenly. “C’mon.”

You wobbled up off the bed, and he cranked up the intensity to the highest setting the second your feet met the floor. Your legs buckled underneath you, and a smirk passed over his lips as he watched you, weak like putty in his hands. 

He pushed you to your knees beneath him, standing tall as his hooded gaze fell on you from above, dark and lust. He praised you sweetly as his hand gripped in your hair, tightening his grip as he toyed with the buttons on the vibrator. You trembled as the vibrations rocked through you. Every so often he would stop the sensations completely, stopping to pet your head softly and sing you praises, only to push up the intensity to full and grip his fingers tighter in your hair. Your head spun with neediness, practically dripping around the vibrator sunk deep inside you. 

He lifted your chin with his fingertip, tilting your head up almost 90 degrees. You whined as the vibrations teased you torturously, it had felt like hours he was watching you, a satisfied smile curled on his lips as he watched you writhe and shake at the mercy of his fingertips. Your whining grew louder, orgasm firing through you so intensity you could barely keep yourself upright. Only the tugging of his hands in your hair kept you up on your knees. 

"That's a good, good girl. So pretty when you’re shaking," he praised sweetly. 

He brought his hand to your mouth, parting your lips slightly by tugging down on your teeth, then shoved two fingers in. You sucked them enthusiastically, eating up the noises that escaped him at watching you gag on his fingers. He shoved them in farther, and you gagged a bit. Right on cue, he pushed up the intensity of the vibrations. You shook and moaned against his fingers as the vibrations rocked through you again, and this time you were much more sensitive. He watched the look on your face twist as he switched the pace from fast to slow, thrusting his fingers in every so often to hear your gagged breaths. 

“Such a dirty girl, getting off choking on my fingers. Embarrassing, really. But cute,” he cooed, shoving his fingers in your mouth one last time as he cranked up the intensity on the remote, then pulling them out with a trail of saliva. 

He sent you over the edge again. And again. Your knees started to burn lightly against the carpet as he toyed with you over, and over, and over. You weren’t sure how many times you’d come. You lost count at some point. Drool pooled at the corner of your mouth, body sore from writhing and shaking, every muscle contracting again and again. “Good, good girl,” he praised again, stroking your hair softly. “Tired, lamb? I may have gone a little overboard. I couldn’t help it. You’re just so cute when you’re helpless under me.”

You breathed heavily, unable to make words. Your brain was pleasured mush, entirely blissed from the at least five orgasms you had. “Tired…” you muttered, glancing up at him through heavy eyes. 

“I know. You did good.” He raised you up, supporting you by the waist as you stumbled weakly to your feet. Your legs were jello, and you weren’t sure if you could even make it to bed. San seemed to know that too, as he lifted you effortlessly, placing you on your bed gingerly. He helped you remove the vibrator, your body trembling as it slipped out. He even offered a change of clothes and helped you slip into them. Why was he being so nice? 

Your eyes were heavy, body completely wrecked from the orgasms. You didn’t remember much after that. The whole world went black at some point.

When you woke up, there was a note on your nightstand:

I cleaned the apartment for you. Consider the contract complete. xoxo demon maid 

Studying with Yunho became a nightly habit, replacing your bedroom rendezvous with San. That wasn’t to say you didn’t summon him sometimes to fulfill... certain needs, but that was beside the point. 

You were caught between the two of them them, both pulling you in opposite directions, both fulfilling different needs for you. You felt guilty, flirting with Yunho in the daytime and summoning San at night to sate your desires. But there was something in you that still wasn’t ready to let San go. 

He’d been on your mind recently, San. Despite all the cards being out on the table, he was still particularly vague about one thing: his history with Yunho. 

"Yunho I—I need to ask you something."

He turned his eyes to you, and his smile was warm and inviting. "Anything." 

"It's about San." 

Yunho broke his gaze, his sunshine smile fading. "I told you, I didn't want to—"

"How do you know him?"

"What do you mean?"

"He said you were a former colleague. Did you work with him before? Can angels even work with demons?"

Yunho sighed, rubbing his neck apprehensively. "I shouldn't be tell—"

"I already know too much. What's one more thing?"

He chuckled lightly, the heavenly sound ringing in your ears like a lullaby. "I suppose you have a point. But… you can't tell San I told you this."

Your hand came up, zipping your mouth closed with a wink. "Consider it locked away." 

“Alright, well… San wasn’t always a demon. He used to be an angel. We worked together. We were… friends. A long time ago, at least.”

They were friends? You couldn’t ever imagine them getting along.

“What happened?”

“He fell for a human. His assignment. I wouldn’t say that’s typical, but it happens. I don’t blame him for that.” Yunho dropped his gaze, gritting his teeth. “An angel who has fallen for a human… they usually experience the grief of loss, and move on. There’s nothing in angel code that says you can’t experience love. But San has always been... more impulsive than most. And he made a mistake.”

Your heart dropped in your chest. “What—what kind of mistake?” 

“He wanted to make a deal, with a crossroads demon. The deal would prolong her life, but he would be forever indentured to the demon. He didn’t care… as you probably already know, he’s impulsive.” He paused for a moment, rubbing his neck in thought. His expression was pained, regretful.  “I—I was the only angel he told about making the deal. He trusted me, but I ratted him out. He was making a huge mistake… I couldn’t let him sell his soul away like that.”

“So he made the deal?”

“No. They got to him in time. But he broke a lot of angel codes when he made that plan, and I was witness to his confession. They tried his case, but he was never very well liked by the committee. And so they banished him.” 

You fell silent, unable to form the right words. Yunho’s eyes were big, glistening with what looked like the beginning of tears.

“He would never say it, but I know he blames me for his human’s death. If I hadn’t have told them about his plans, she wouldn’t have died then. But… I couldn’t let him sell his soul to the crossroads demon. At the time, I never imagined he’d be banished. I thought they would just stop him from making the deal, maybe suspend him for a few weeks. But not banished.”

“So, angels who are banished become demons then?” 

“They don’t have to. They just can’t carry out their angel duties anymore. And they’re stripped of their wings. He was hurt. Scared, I’m sure. He had nowhere left to turn. He sold his angel soul to become a demon, for the promise of a life of fulfillment. However twisted it was.”

You dropped your gaze, falling completely silent for a while. None of Yunho’s story connected with the dark, bloodthirsty San you knew. You couldn’t imagine what he was like as an angel. Did he sparkle like the stars? Did he smell like heaven itself? Was his smile like the sunshine too? 

Yunho’s voice broke through the silence. “I answered your question. Now you answer one for me.”

His serious expression suddenly made you uneasy. "Is it this last homework question?" you joked, but Yunho's face was unamused. 

"San…” His eyes met with yours, soft and earnest. “...do you love him?"

Your eyes went wide. “Do I love San? No… no.” You shook your head a few too many times, as if you were trying to convince yourself, not Yunho. “Our relationship is purely business. We exchange... services. That's all.” Your hand came up to your neck involuntary, feeling the faint remaining scars of his bite marks.

“Then why do you keep him around? You're beautiful.” Your heart fluttered for a minute at his fleeting compliment. How could such an otherworldly handsome being think you were beautiful?

“You don't need his… services. He's nothing but trouble. I know you know that.” 

“Maybe I'm attracted to trouble.”

"Well, you're attracted to me, too, right?" Your breath caught in your chest. Heat rose in your face, staining your cheeks an incriminating bright red. You opened your mouth hesitantly, but he didn't give you the chance to answer. "So maybe you don't need a bad boy after all?" 

"You said it yourself, Yunho. You need to focus on protecting me. No complications." 

He leaned in closer, setting his hand gently on your cheek. A chill rolled through your spine. "What if I changed my mind?" 

You pulled your lips against his, melting against him softly. You wanted him. Yunho. The ethereal boy that stole your heart the moment you saw him. But now, your mind saw only San. Why? Why could you only see his face?

You didn’t see the San you knew, though. You didn’t see demon San, you saw angel San. The one you could only imagine. You saw the San with a soft, peaceful smile, highlighted by the cute dimples on his cheeks. You saw the San who would risk his life for the one he loved, no matter the cost. You saw the San who made a mistake, and paid his soul for it. 

Your heart ached. You pulled away from Yunho suddenly, a single tear rolling from your eyes at first, followed by a river.

He didn’t ask you why, he only pulled you into him tightly, wrapping his long arms around you in the most comforting hug. You nuzzled into his neck, taking in his scent—he smelled like fresh rain on a spring morning.

It would have been so simple just to choose Yunho. He was the obvious choice. Beautiful, warm, kind—he was everything you could ever need. 

So why could you only think of San?

[iatethepomegranate]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences (for now)

Relationship: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast

Summary: After Aeor, Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha. For the first time in more than seventeen years, he has some semblance of stability. Caleb is not sure he's ready to handle it, but he's trying, and his friends are eager to see him live a good life, by force if necessary.

And then Soltryce Academy approaches him with a job offer, which could give Caleb the chance to protect the next generation of wizards the way he had needed at their age. Caleb's goal of preventing what happened to him from happening to anyone else, however, takes a far more personal turn than even he could have anticipated.

(In other words, here is a fic about Caleb settling down and learning how to be a person again. Also Professor Widogast will be a thing. Fic title is a lyric from I Have Made Mistakes by the Oh Hellos. Chapter title is a lyric from Mind by Sleeping At Last. More detailed tagging and notes are available on AO3.)

_____

Chapter 1: It's the first brush stroke of a self-portrait

Caleb had mixed feelings returning to Rexxentrum after spending so long in Aeor… and everywhere else he had been, including a fucking flesh city in the Astral Sea. Sure, he had popped back to Rexxentrum regularly to update the Cobalt Soul on his discoveries, and to testify at Trent’s trial, during the conclusion of which he had the satisfaction of turning down Da’leth’s offer to assume Trent’s position as the Archmage of Civil Influence. But now he was back on a more permanent basis.

He didn’t know what to do with that information. With this place, that was both so familiar and so foreign. Full of some of his best memories, and some of his worst.

Caleb had spent so long avoiding this place, or at least the challenging parts of it, and now Beauregard was dragging him and Yasha down the street, infodumping about a house she wanted the three of them to buy together.

“Caleb, don’t give me that look,” she said. “You’re gonna love this place. I know you like your space, dude, and this is the best of both worlds. It’s technically two houses, but there’s, like, a door between them so we can visit each other. Because you’re a fucking genius but you also forget to feed yourself.”

Yasha smiled at Caleb over Beau’s head. “She’s not wrong, Caleb.” Her soft tone made Caleb a little emotional, but he categorically refused to start crying in the street. “I like my space, too. This is a good balance. And there’s room for a garden.”

“Yasha’s not an Empire citizen,” said Beau. “It looks better if there’s two of us Empire kids on the deed so no one thinks any weird shit about her.”

Caleb sighed at her. “I will look at the house, Beauregard.”

Beau yanked them around the street corner. “It’s a great location. You can walk anywhere. I can get to the Archive, and you can get to the Academy.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Maybe. Astrid says hi.”

The implication that Astrid and Beauregard had been speaking to each other recently was of concern. Caleb was too tired to unpack it. He would find out what that was about eventually. It was not worth Beauregard’s sibling-level mockery if he tried to extract the information early.

“Oh, and Veth sent you this,” said Yasha, passing a wrapped package over Beau’s head.

“Yeah, I might’ve told her we’re buying a house together,” said Beau. “She made Yussa send that to the Soul so I could grab it for you.”

Caleb didn’t open the package, but he did shake and squeeze it a little. It felt like coins. A lot of coins. Oh, Veth. Still taking care of him from miles upon miles away. They’d both come so far from Veth sneaking coins into his pockets because he had felt strange about taking her money even when he desperately needed it.

“Danke,” he said softly. That was all he could say, before he risked bursting into tears again. That was happening to him a lot lately. It… wasn’t the worst thing. More of an inconvenience. He chose not to unpack it.

Beauregard was looking at him strangely. He elbowed her. It probably hurt his elbow more than it hurt her, but she was successfully distracted from his bullshit. She punched his arm. Even holding back like she did, his arm did go numb for a few seconds.

Yasha sighed. “Children, we’re almost there.”

Caleb had been down this street before. Rarely, as it was entirely residential. But sometimes he, Astrid and Eadwulf would explore the city to find excuses to get away from the Academy, especially after they had commenced their training with Trent. But, with Caleb’s memory, he could call upon the map he had drawn in his mind. This was a middle-income area on the southern edge of The Tangles, home to mostly professionals--well-off storeowners, any researchers who did not live in the Shimmer Ward or have access to quarters with the Cobalt Soul, some teachers, architects. Largely people looking to settle down with the money to stay out of the Mudtop Ward.

It was close to the Shimmer Ward, a little southwest from the gate, but not so close that Caleb felt an itch on the back of his neck. The Tangles were the oldest part of the city, with narrow looping streets with little logic to them. This area was slightly newer than most of The Tangles, but still old. Regardless, The Tangles were fairly central to the city and an easy starting point for any travel. If you didn’t get lost on the way out.

This far south in the area, the houses were a little more spaced out. A little more green space, more gardens. Duplex-style houses were common, mostly built of old stone or lumpy brick on the first floor and clay bolstered by wooden frames above that. Children were out in force, running and screaming through the narrow streets while their parents watched from the porch of their homes. Well, for those who had porches.

“There she is,” said Beauregard. They had stopped in front of another duplex-style building, newer than some of the others but still respectable in age. The first floor was made from dark reddish brick and the upper two floors panelled with dark wood to bolster the white clay walls. The first two floors were full in width, and the third consisted of two dormers peeking through the darkly thatched roof.

There were two entrance doors on the ground floor, each spaced a third of the house’s width from the outer corners. The rectangular windows were framed in white-painted wood, dividing the glass on each window into six little squares.

Before the three of them was a low wooden fence, also painted white. The paint was chipping a little, revealing the deep brown heartwood that Caleb suspected was oak. There were a number of oak trees in the Pearlbow Wilderness. Caleb had slept under them several times in worse days. Oak was rather expensive, if he remembered correctly. He usually remembered correctly.

“She’s pretty hot, right, Caleb?” Beau said, snapping out of his hyperfocus on the history of timber in the Zemni Fields.

“Oh… ja.”

“Cool, so the owner will be here in a few minutes to let us in so we can have a look. She wants to sell the place as a package deal.”

Caleb had, in some ways, trained himself out of being too attached to places or most material things (with a few exceptions such as his spell components, spellbook, and the letters he had written to his parents). Unless there was something horrifically wrong inside, he didn’t care where Beauregard and Yasha wanted to live. It was practical that they live together, after all. Caleb had healed immensely this past year, but he was self-aware enough to understand he probably shouldn’t live alone. Of the Nein, Beauregard knew how to call him on his bullshit and Yasha understood him pretty well and knew he needed space sometimes, so it was a reasonable arrangement.

“I am really not picky, Beauregard.”

“Yeah, because you still don’t care enough about yourself to give a fuck about this. We know.” Beauregard looped her arm around his neck, dragging him down to her level so she could rub her knuckles across his scalp, ruining the two narrow braids Essek had worked from Caleb’s hairline to his messy ponytail that morning before they had parted ways beside the secret entrance to Aeor. Caleb talked himself out of getting upset with Beauregard over it. She couldn’t have known, and she was being affectionate like he really was her brother.

Once he was free, Yasha fixed the braids, and Caleb had to stop himself from crying again because she had noticed it bothered him and just… fixed it without making it a thing. Beau straightened her expositor’s garb, clearing her throat.

“Sorry, dude.”

Caleb conjured a mage hand to tug on her ponytail. Beau swatted at it, but her hand went right through it. She gave him the finger. Yasha finished fixing the braids. Everything was normal again.

The owner, a half-elf woman with long blonde hair coiled into a bun that looked like a cinnamon scroll, arrived and immediately shook Caleb’s hand.

“Mr Widogast, a pleasure. These ladies have told me a lot about you. My name is Alphira Winterheart. I teach evocation at the Soltryce Academy.”

Caleb still felt a spike of anxiety when he heard the name of that place. At this point it was ingrained, even if he held out a small amount of hope he would get to teach there one day. It would be easier to fight corruption if he had some say over what the Academy put into those children’s heads.

“A pleasure,” Caleb replied, a little flatter than he had intended. He mentally shook himself, remembering to actually grip her hand for a proper handshake. “Evocation? I used to specialise in that area.”

“Ja, Ms Lionett told me you are now a Transmutation specialist but still frequently partake in the Evocation school in your travels. I’m glad to hear you intend to put down roots here in Rexxentrum. I would love to exchange theories over coffee.”

Beauregard smirked. Caleb remembered a conversation with Essek where they had agreed to return to Aeor and exchange theories. They had meant that literally. But it had indeed sounded like a euphemism to someone like Beauregard. Well, she hadn’t been wrong in the end, but certainly the intent at the time had been more about a meeting of minds than a meeting of…

Caleb concentrated on the conversation in front of him instead.

“Ja, I would enjoy that,” he replied. “What level of Evocation do you teach?”

“Oh, I teach the beginners.”

“And you live here in the Tangles?”

“I did,” said Alphira. “Archmage Beck has offered me lodging on her estate, so I am selling this house. It was always a little large for one person, and it seems you three could make better use of it than I did.” She leaned closer to Caleb, as if to tell him a secret. “The place on the left is where I prefer to experiment and study. I would recommend you look at that one in particular. The dormer is slightly larger. You could even put a teleportation circle up there if you were so inclined, given your need to travel.”

“Danke.” Caleb still felt a little weird about Rexxentrum mages not wanting to kill him, but he didn’t sense any untoward motives from this woman. She seemed genuinely friendly. “How… is the new Archmage settling in?”

“I have no complaints. She seems competent, if a little terrifying. I am uncertain if that is her past as a Volstrucker, or a necessity of the job. She has been nothing but kind to me, and I would certainly prefer to be her friend than her enemy.”

“Ja, we are familiar with her,” said Caleb.

“Caleb most of all,” said Yasha.

Beauregard had to turn away before she burst out laughing.

“We should look at the house,” Caleb said before the conversation could go anywhere strange. Gods, he missed Aeor already.

Alphira unlocked both front doors. They checked the one on the right first.

“This one has a larger living area,” said Alphira, leading them through the entrance. “I am offering the furniture as part of the sale. I have already taken everything I need.”

Beauregard threw herself onto the large couch in the centre of the room. “Yasha and I call dibs on this side of the house. Since you’re gonna spend so much time here with us anyway. We’re taking the larger living area.”

“Beauregard, we have already established that I do not mind.”

The floor underfoot was a pleasant hardwood, probably more oak, and a large rug occupied much of the space. They would have to purchase candles for the evening, but it was well-lit during the day. Caleb followed the women through each of the rooms on the ground floor on this side, largely going through the motions. The kitchen was equally large, and had a good oven for Yasha to practice baking. They would need to purchase a larger dining table.

There was one large bedroom upstairs and two smaller ones, alongside private areas for bathing and other such activities. This was where they found the door between the two houses. The top floor dormer was full of assorted furniture and household items Alphira didn’t need, but they would likely use. Beauregard and Yasha discussed the possibility of turning this into another bedroom for when they had friends over. Or perhaps converting one of the lower bedrooms into a workout space and using this as a replacement. Caleb did not need to contribute much to the conversation, aside from promising he would help move furniture with telekinesis.

Truth be told, Caleb was having a hard time concentrating on the whole thing. He hadn’t really had a home in a long time, and he could not wrangle his mind into understanding the change. The Xhorhaus had been easier to stomach, as nobody had expected to live there forever. But this? Putting down roots? Real , long-term roots?

Maybe Caleb had been homeless for too long. It was beyond his comprehension at this point. And maybe it frightened him a little. He could not afford to inspect those feelings, not right now.

He pulled himself together in time to inspect the other side of the building. His side. His house. Scheisse .

The living area was a little smaller, but could still easily welcome the Nein (just in rather cosy quarters). The kitchen, also smaller but still respectable--a little larger than his childhood home in Blumenthal. There was less furniture on this side; Alphira had evidently used this side more and therefore had more furniture to take. There were two bedrooms on the second floor, one slightly larger than the other. Caleb found himself thinking that he would probably take the larger one just so there was enough room when Essek was over, or maybe he would take the smaller one so Veth could bring her family with her. Fuck. He didn’t know what to do.

And then they visited the dormer. It was indeed larger than the other one. There was a table in front of the window, with a few dark ink stains, and plenty of floorspace to spread out notes or create a teleportation circle. A few chairs were stacked in the corner, seemingly in good condition, and one wall was lined with empty shelves.

Caleb had always been partial to a tower, and this was pretty close. It would make a great study.

He was genuinely excited over a house. In Rexxentrum. A short journey from where his childhood home once stood. He was going to hyperventilate if he thought about this too hard.

“There are already plenty of shelves in my new house,” Alphira said. “These are all yours.”

Caleb nodded slowly, pulling his mind back into his skull. “Wundervoll, danke.” He took a calming breath. “This is a nice place, Professor.”

Alphira smiled. “Yes, I did not make nearly enough use out of it. But I hear you three have a lot of friends from out of town.”

“Ja, we do not see them enough.”

“Perhaps you will see them more once you have a place to welcome them.” Alphira led them back downstairs, and into the other side of the house where they could sit around the small dining table. Alphira already had the paperwork they needed to sign; Caleb got the impression Beau and Yasha had already decided to buy the house before they spoke to him about it. He was glad the decision was out of his hands.

He signed the paperwork, using both his legal name and the name he now wore (Alphira had apparently been briefed on this, and had consulted a contract lawyer on how to make it work on a binding document). Caleb had needed to sign various statements as part of Trent’s trial, so signing in Bren’s name was not as strange as he feared it would be. He was relieved. Beau and Yasha had insisted on finding a way that his new name would also be included, given he had not gone through any legal name-change process. The money Veth gave him more than covered his part of the cost. He needed to hug her. He needed to hug all of them.

Alphira gave them three copies of the contract and handed over the deed to the property. “I will head to the housing authority and file the paperwork immediately.” She slid the keys over the table to them. “Congratulations on your new home.”

She left. Caleb traced the shapes of the letters on his copy of the contract, over and over, letting reality sink in. He had a house. A house in Rexxentrum. A house in Rexxentrum with two of his best friends. It wasn’t at all what he imagined he would have when he was seventeen, when he thought he and Astrid and Wulf would one day have done their duty for the empire and settled down together.

But this was good. This was right .

He cried. Yasha was probably crying, too, but he couldn't see. The three of them hugged across the table, the edges jabbing their ribs.

[emospritelet]

Heatstroke - chapter 17

I tweaked the prompt a little :)

[AO3]

x

Before leaving the city for small-town Maine, Lacey had told herself she wasn’t going to spend every night drinking until the early hours, as she had in New York. Since moving to Storybrooke she had mostly kept that promise to herself. During the week, anyway. Weekends were a different matter. Ruby usually had Friday nights off from the diner, but that inevitably meant that she worked on Saturdays, and while Lacey wasn’t bothered by going to the Rabbit Hole by herself, it was much more fun to have Ruby’s company while she slowly went out of her mind. Saturday evening found her at the bar in Granny’s Diner, drinking her way through a few tall glasses of ice-cold oblivion and telling Ruby about her latest unsuccessful encounter with Gold.

“So he wasn’t even dressed?” Ruby set a vodka and orange in front of her, leaning on the bar and resting her chin on her hands. “At that time in the morning? Not like Gold.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Lacey, stirring her drink with a straw. “It was weird, Rubes. I was all bracing for insults and sarcasm, and it was like he couldn’t even look at me.”

“You can’t tell me you wanted insults and sarcasm.”

“No,” she admitted. “But I think I’d choose that over being ignored.”

“Oh God…” Ruby shook her head. “Would you just ask him out already? Ask him to Zelena’s stupid dance.”

“I told you, he’s not going,” said Lacey impatiently. “And even if he was, it’s obvious he’s not interested. I mean it was obvious before, but now…”

“Maybe you just disturbed him doing something?”

“Like what?” Lacey stirred her drink moodily, and looked up. “Oh God, you don’t think he had someone there, do you?”

“Like a - a woman?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” She took a drink, enjoying the tart taste of the orange juice and the smooth heat of the vodka in her throat. “I bet he did. I bet he had someone stay the night and I woke him up from a round of hot morning sex, good God!”

“Lacey.” Ruby leaned on the bar with a patient expression on her face. “Apart from you, the only person lusting after Gold in this town is Zelena. And he would never.”

“Okay,” Lacey nodded, feeling a little better. “That’s a fair point. But it could have been someone from out of town.”

“Maybe he’s sick,” suggested Ruby. “You could have pulled him out of his death bed.”

“Hey, that’s a point.” She perked up a little. “Yeah, maybe that’s why he was off with me. Great!”

“There you go.”

Lacey groaned, slumping on the bar with her chin pushed into her folded arms.

“God, I shouldn’t wish ill health on the man, should I?” she said dolefully. “What’s wrong with me, Rubes? I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Yeah, it feels that way to me, too,” remarked Ruby.

“Why am I like this?” demanded Lacey, pushing upright again. “Past Lacey was never like this. Past Lacey would find a hot guy, have a good time, and move the hell on! Past Lacey would have been like ‘pfft, so he’s not interested, his loss’. That’s always how it was before.”

“So maybe it’s something more meaningful this time,” suggested Ruby. “Maybe present Lacey wants an actual relationship, not just hot crazy sex.”

“Oh no, present Lacey totally wants the hot crazy sex,” said Lacey, snickering as she reached for her drink. “I just need him to want me back, that’s all.”

“I told you, the ‘you seeing him naked’ thing put him off,” said Ruby. “Guys like Gold need to feel like they’re in charge.”

“Hmmm.” Lacey grinned widely. “He can do that if he wants.”

Her grin widened at the thought of Gold taking charge in a number of very delicious ways, and Ruby rolled her eyes.

“You got it bad, girl,” she observed.

“I can’t help it!” said Lacey, slapping the bar with her palms. “First time we met I saw his junk, and believe me, it was absolutely no hardship as far as I’m concerned. And since then I’ve been checking him out every chance I get.” She took a slurp of her drink to wet her throat. “I thought he looked pretty good full frontal, but did you see his ass in those pants? Biteable.”

Ruby’s eyes had gone very wide.

“Lacey, shh!” she hissed.

“What? It’s true!” Lacey waved a hand. “I always thought you’d need a big hammer to bang in a nail that size, but nope! Almost as cute and pert as mine.”

“Yeah, that’s a great point you just made about - uh - carpentry,” said Ruby loudly, and Lacey felt her brow crinkle.

“Carpentry? What the hell are you - it was a metaphor, Rubes!” she insisted. “I’m talking about how Gold should man up and nail me!”

“Hey Mr Gold!” said Ruby brightly, a somewhat desperate smile on her face. “What can I get you?”

Lacey felt as though a bucket of iced water had been thrown in her face, the shock of it making her catch her breath with a gasp. A ball of lead the size of a small watermelon appeared to have dropped into her stomach and was trying to drag her down through the floorboards and into the diner cellar. She was tempted to let it. He’s right fucking behind me, isn’t he?

“Miss Lucas,” Gold’s lazy drawl made her close her eyes in horror. “Just the rent, if you please. I leave minor - uh - carpentry jobs to those with more inclination for the task.”

Lacey wanted to die. She slipped from the stool, snatching up her bag and coat. Perhaps if she didn’t open her eyes, he wouldn’t be able to see her.

“Later, Rubes,” she muttered, and almost ran from the diner.

Gold watched her go, slim legs moving remarkably quickly considering the height of her heels. Turning back to the bar, he favoured Miss Lucas with a tiny smile, but she was glaring at him, dark eyes flashing.

“Are you stupid?” she demanded, and he frowned.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, in a freezing voice, and she threw up her hands.

“That poor girl just said out loud how much she wants to bang you, and your response is to be all snide and cutting? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What are you talking about?” he snapped. “I know full well Miss French has no interest in me other than as an object of ridicule!”

Miss Lucas put her hands on her hips, glaring at him.

“Don’t you have eyes?” she demanded. “You telling me you haven’t seen her staring at you?”

“Oh, I vividly remember our first encounter,” he said dryly. “I also remember hearing her discuss it with you afterwards. You’ll forgive me if I’m not turned on by mockery.”

Miss Lucas sniffed.

“Look, if you’re getting your cock out in public you have to expect a little teasing.”

“I did not get my cock out in public!” he snapped. “It was on my own property, and frankly it’s no more your business than it was hers!”

“Yeah, well she wasn’t mocking you, she was just - surprised.”

“Oh please!” he said, in a disparaging tone. “I’ve no interest in whatever game you two are playing.”

“She just said you should man up and nail her! You heard her!”

“Really?” he said dismissively, tugging at cuffs that didn’t need it. “Hilarious, if one understands the context, I’m sure.”

“Oh my God…” She shook her head. “Blind, deaf and stupid. I should have just talked to Neal.”

“What does my son have to do with this?” he demanded, and she shrugged.

“Just saying. Something tells me he’s not as dense as you.”

Gold glared at her.

“Are you gonna give me the rent, or do I have to consider raising it?”

“Fine, resort to empty threats all you like,” she sniffed, turning away.

She unlocked the drawer beneath the counter, taking out the envelope of rent money, and slapping it on the counter. She was still glaring at him, and Gold took the money with an unpleasant smile, opening it up and beginning to count out the notes.

“She likes you,” said Miss Lucas, making him pause. “Lacey likes you. Weird as it seems to me, and as much as I don’t want to hear about her many fantasies involving you, she likes you. She likes you a lot. As in she wants to have sex with you. Also a lot.”

Gold had lost count the moment she mentioned Lacey’s name, but there was no way he was about to admit it. He gathered up the pile of bills, stuffing it back into the envelope and retrieving his notebook from his pocket.

“It’s all there,” he said stiffly, flipping through the pages. 

“Just ask her out,” went on Miss Lucas. “Or go to that dance of Zelena’s if you’re gonna be a wuss about it. Then you don’t even need to ask her out. You could just - you would be there, and she would be there, and the two of you could - you know.”

Gold could barely see what he was writing, but he pretended that he knew what he was doing. He wrote the date out with such a flourish that it tore the paper, and slipped the notebook back into his pocket. The envelope of money followed it, his hands shaking a little.

“Thank you, Miss Lucas,” he said, his tone hollow. “Do give my regards to your grandmother.”

Turning on his heel, he fixed his gaze on the door and limped towards it as though it was the path to his salvation.

“Why are you both such idiots!” called Miss Lucas, and he flinched as he grasped the door handle.

Getting out into the cool summer evening, he let the door close behind him, and exhaled slowly, head rolling back as he let the soft breeze caress his skin. Surely Miss Lucas wasn’t being serious? Admittedly Lacey had said something extremely suggestive about him, but what if it was part of their banter, the joke that never got old. Gold and his naked body, forever an object of ridicule.

What if it wasn’t? A voice in his head whispered to him, a faint spark of hope igniting deep within him. What if she actually likes you? You could go to that tedious charity ball. By the sound of it, she’ll be there, no doubt reporting for the Mirror. You could ask her to dance. That wouldn’t arouse anyone’s suspicions. Maybe not even hers. And if she does like you...

The idea of Lacey actually returning his feelings was too heady to contemplate, and Gold shook his head, striding off down the street. No. He would think about this intriguing possibility when he was in the safety of his own home and with a large glass of something strong. He definitely needed a little Dutch courage to plan his next move.

[unbury-the-gays]

The Lion, The Witch, And The Audacity Of This Bitch

aka absolutely correct quotes from witcher Kiyan

“[…]They sat in taverns in Novigrad and Oxenfurt and drank to death, cursing the name of Adrien Moskovitz to the tenth generation. They lost everything. He left them with only the shirt on their backs and dirt behind their fingernails."

"I guess not everything, if they had the money to drink," Kiyan noted dryly […]

*

"I’ve not fought a witcher before. And I've heard quite a lot about your inhuman abilities. Will you do me this honor, Master Witcher, and satisfy my curiosity?" 

[…]"I don't play with toys," Kiyan said finally, glaring contemptuously at the wooden sword in the prince's hand. 

*

"They say you are crazy, aggressive, brutal, and unpredictable," the nobleman continued, his smile still on his lips. 

"Funny," Kiyan replied, tilting his head slightly. "They say the same thing about you.[…]”

*

"The witcher Kiyan himself. I thought I would have to look for you all over the Grassy Knoll, while you, as if nothing happened, show up in the village where we camp. This is very kind of you."

"Pavor Seneca." The witcher looked at the man without an eye with a contemptuous look. "Do you know that this is our third date and at this point in our relationship, I will have to kill you? […]”

*

“[…] Madame Lacerta can torture you like this for hours. I won't even have to get my hands dirty with you."

"Madame?" Kiyan asked politely, trying to shake off the echo of the spell's pain. "Is that a witch or a whore from your brothel who you've taught a few tricks, Seneca?"

Kiyan took a sharp breath as the witch treated him with another bolt of pain, this time on her own initiative.

"Pissing off Madame is a bad idea. I would advise you to be respectful of her," said Seneca as Kiyan tried to gather his thoughts after the attack. 

"Ok, daddy, this shit is too kinky for me, what’s my safe word?" Kiyan tried to keep his composure, but the task was getting difficult.

*

Moments later, his pillow was brutally taken from him, and when he let out a sharp growl in protest, he was doused unexpectedly in cold water. This made him immediately sit up in bed and open his mouth to curse. Second mistake.

Kiyan splashed the rest of the water from the jug right into the prince's face and his open mouth just as he gasped, and Adrien choked.

[…]"His Lordship is awake?" the witcher asked sharply. He held up the jug in his other hand. "If not, I can serve you your morning coffee as well."

"I'm awake," Adrien choked, and instinctively nodded his head to show that he was awake, though he still had trouble understanding this absurd reality.

*

"It's probably time to remind you where your place is, witcher." Adrien dropped the formal tone as soon as they were alone in his office. "I’m your client. Since when does the contractor decide where and when to start the task?"

"Oh, I assure you that I know my place perfectly," Kiyan replied, undaunted by the chill in the prince's voice. "[…] You are a client, yes, but that doesn't mean I'll follow your stupid orders or obstruct my work."

*

"Please give me more information to convince me that you aren’t a hallucination."

"[…] I can slap you as proof that I’m a material being," the witcher offered graciously.

*

"So you actually do listen to what I say." 

"I always listen to what you say." Kiyan continued to stare intently at Adrien. […] "I just usually don't like it."

*

"I guess I didn't make myself clear." Titus stood in front of the witcher, towering over him with his huge, almost two-meter body. "You aren’t the one giving the orders here."

"Now, attention please, I have important news for the Captain of the Princely Guard," Kiyan announced in a lofty tone laced with mockery. "For everything that concerns this expedition, the safety of which I’m responsible for, then yes, I give the orders here. […]”

*

"You are aware that you would have to go through me first?" Titus said seriously, and suddenly seemed to grow even taller.

"I can handle you," The witcher gave him a friendly pat on the arm and moved to leave the stables.

*

"Did I somehow offend the prince?" Marco asked […]

"Don't worry, pretty boy," Kiyan answered calmly [...] "He was born offended."

*

“[…] You just hate losing control. Think of it as a new experience of how life flows when you are out of control." 

"I don't need to experience anything, I know exactly what happens when I’m not in control of the situation: a ton of shit falls on my head," Kiyan hissed through his teeth. "You aren’t paying me enough to put up with the fact that you make my job difficult at every turn." 

"Oh, so it's all about the money again?" 

"It’s about my time and effort, and I swear to gods that I will teach you to respect it!" Kiyan finally got really pissed off.

*

The captain’s bolt tore the monster's head open, splashing the foul, stinking liquid directly in the witcher’s face.

"That's just fucking great," Kiyan cursed in disgust […].

*

And without giving Kiyan a chance to respond, he kissed him. […]

"We have to talk," Adrien said, taking his lips from the witcher's but staying close enough he could feel Kiyan’s warm breath against his chilled skin.

"We have extremely different definitions of talk," Kiyan said dryly […]

read fic on AO3

[hannie-dul-set]

wc: 2.7k | no warnings!

the sun was about to set the moment you reached the courtyard, jogging up to jaemin who had a disapproving look on his face. the rays of light gold painted one side of him, and he quickly ran over to you to close the distance in between. you were breathless when you found yourself before him, hands on your knees as you panted.

"oh my god, you're unbelievable," jaemin breathed out, crouching down to meet your face. "i told you i can wait. you didn’t get hurt, did you?"

“i’m okay, don’t worry,” you shot him a smile, but you were still heaving from your little marathon. jaemin wasn’t satisfied by that, though, so he scanned you to check if you had any scratches or grazes on your skin. he took your hands, examining your palms and knees for any injuries, and sighed in relief when he saw none. afterwards, he finally rose from his position, though he still didn’t let go of you.

“you shouldn’t be running so carelessly.”

“i can handle myself, nana.”

you removed yourself from his grasp, lips curled in assurance, but he only pouted at you. “alright, if you can handle yourself then i guess you don’t need me to tell you that your hair looks like it has a mind of its own.”

a sudden surge of embarrassment rushed through you, and you scrambled to get your phone from your bag to use as a mirror. gosh, of course all that running would have turned you into a haggard mess. jaemin laughed at your flustered state. you seemed to be having a lot of trouble in finding your phone, mumbling incoherencies under your breath of what he assumed were apologies. he smiled to himself before holding onto your shoulder, catching you attention and bringing you to a halt to face him.

he hummed, satisfied by your reaction. using his other hand, he brushed away the strands of untamed hair from your face, a serene look in his eyes. “there. should we go now? it’s gonna be evening soon and i don’t want you to get home too late.”

“ah, thank you,” you gleamed, nodding at him. “where are we headed?”

jaemin’s expression faltered. he didn’t know if you noticed or not, but if you did you didn’t say anything. why weren’t you reacting? he pressed his lips together and just decided to bury his confused frustration, bringing back the smile on his face that rivaled that of the warmth of the sunset. you two had a date to attend to, and he was gonna make use of this time to at least get something out of you.

quickly, he grabbed your wrist, marching outside the gates in an enthusiastic manner.

“let’s go get something to eat first,” he grinned at you. “you must be hungry after your run earlier.”

the two of you stopped by a convenience store to get some quick snacks, and you remembered that this was the same store where renjun was working. you hoped to catch at least a glimpse of him here, looking around the limited isles in your seat, but you were disappointed to see that he was nowhere to be found.

“are you looking for something?” jaemin asked, his face suddenly in front of yours which caused  you to snap away from your silent search. he must’ve returned from his trek to get more snacks as he was now before you, his concerned eyes hovering over yours in a close proximity. “what are you looking for? just tell me and nana will be sure to find it!”

you blinked at him, noticing the eager look in his eyes, the long string of jelly candy hanging from his lips, and you let laughter overtake you. it was out of mere instinct— you mindlessly bringing your hand above his head to pat his blue hair with eyes crinkling in delight.

“you’re so cute, nana.”

jaemin froze upon contact, and was still frozen when you removed it, gleaming at him one second and dismissing him at the next. what the hell? he didn't get it. he didn't get how unaffected you were by his actions earlier, yet something so simple and innocent as this messed up his mind like uninvited waves crashing onto him in a foreign ocean that was yet to be discovered.

was it normal to have his heart suddenly racing like this?

“did you get anything you need?” your voice caused a rupture in between the waves, and all of a sudden he stopped thinking. “i assume you have another destination planned after this.”

the glass window behind you displayed the mixture of purple and orange skies, and somehow he was able to notice all of your nuances, the hints of worry that creased beneath your smiling face, the way your eyes seemed to be looking past what was before you. he didn’t get it. he didn’t want to get it because he had a feeling that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to feel things as they normally were.

it was scary.

things would be better if he didn’t start to act like this in the first place.

“nana?”

again, your voice broke through him, but this time he was finally brought back to his senses. his eyes flickered, right before his pretty smile bloomed on his face once more. “yeah? you don’t want to eat anymore?”

“it’s fine, i can just bring them home,” you enthused. “are you alright, though? we can go out another time if you’re not feeling too good.”

there you go again. jaemin isn’t to have other people worrying for him. it was usually his role with his friend group. it was him asking people whether they have eaten, whether they weren't having a good day just to get a little bit of attention from them. it was him that was supposed to have people’s hearts fluttering over to his hands— not the other way around.

he hated it and yearned for it all the same.

“is y/nie worried about me?” he sang, bringing his fingers to pinch your cheeks, to which you responded with a pout and a grimace. “you don’t need to worry about me, angel. it’s alright, we can go now.”

“of course i’m worried about you. it’s only natural that i do,” you huffed, getting out of your seat and getting ready to leave the store. “i’d be a bad friend if i didn’t.”

jaemin had his lips pressed into a thin line. of course. he shouldn’t be relishing in this fact because you’re probably the exact same with everyone else. it was nothing special. hell, you only went out with him because you wanted jeno’s number, for fuck’s sake.

“are you ever gonna tell me where exactly we’re going?” you asked, pushing the glass doors open. the wind blew past you when you did, and it was already starting to get even darker. you looked to jaemin for an answer, and he only smiled at you in response, taking your hand in his to go wherever he had planned.

“ahh! almost— awh, oh no.”

clang! the sound of the claw machine’s gears getting back into position was like a noise of mockery to jaemin, and just like that, another coin was wasted in his mission to snag one of the many stuffed bunnies inside the machine. you two had spent a good hour at the arcade, monopolizing the majority of the games since there weren’t a lot of people around. your last conquest was the claw machines, and jaemin promised that neither of you would be going home unless he got you one.

“i was so close…” he whined, clearly dejected from his fruitless efforts.

“nana, it’s okay,” you assured him, tenderly holding onto him to comfort him. “you can do it, i believe in you!”

considering what you knew about jaemin so far, you didn’t expect him to bring you here— but you didn’t have any complaints. it’s been awhile since you’ve dedicated your time to just having fun.

“i promise, this time i’ll really get the bunny,”

“don’t stress yourself, okay? we can try again next time if you don’t succeed today,” you started, looking at him with a smile. “it’s also getting kinda late. your parents might get worried if you stay out for too long.”

“they won’t. trust me,” he blandly spoke as he inserted another coin to try again. “oh! but wouldn’t y/nie’s parents be worried?” music started blaring from the machine, indicating the start of his next attempt, but his attention was directed to you instead. “we’ll leave after this one, okay? i’ll make sure you get home safe.”

you nodded at him, and jaemin went back to focus on getting a bunny for you. he wa determined, eyebrows scrunched together in his concentration, but just like his last attempts, this one also ended with the rabbit mockingly falling back into the rest, and all he could do was sigh.

“y/n, the world is against me today,” jaemin dejectedly announced. “i’m sorry i couldn’t get you one.”

he looked over to you, but you weren’t looking at him at all. instead, you had your attention focused elsewhere, and jaemin’s concern was stirred. “y/n?” he followed your gaze, but by now what you were looking at had probably disappeared because he didn’t see anything. “what is it?”

“someone was looking at us earlier,” you could feel him against your back, his hand resting over your shoulder, and so you stepped away to look at him. “i made eye contact with her once before she left.”

“she?”

jaemin had a feeling as to who that was, but at the same time he wasn’t sure considering his affairs. pressing his lips together, he looked at your confused gaze before deciding to grab onto your wrist, and he was thankful that you took this as a sign to start moving without questioning him.

“let’s not worry about that anymore, alright?” he smiled at you. “let’s go home.”

it was already dark out when you exited the arcade, the sky pitch black and littered with small, twinkling diamonds all over. the breeze was slightly chilly, but not enough to bite your skin. jaemin was still in dismay for not being able to win you anything after a dozen attempts, and he declared that he wouldn’t be able to rest until he did.

“nana, it’s okay. you don’t have to do that for me,” you laughed at him, swinging his hand back and forth as he walked you home. “i had fun today, and that itself is enough.”

jaemin stared at you. did you ever think about the effect our words could have on people? he managed to swallow down these emotions while he was busy trying to win the machine, but now since it was only the both of you, it was inevitable for it to resurface.

“nonsense!” he exclaimed. “it was supposed to be a remembrance of our date today.”

there was a pout on his face to which you couldn’t help but giggle at. you couldn’t deny the fact that jaemin was naturally adorable. after a few more of his grumblings, silence overtook you, but not for long as you decided to rouse a question.

“nana,” you started. “is it alright if you give me jeno’s number now? i mean, the date is now over so this should be the right time.”

oh. jaemin didn’t know why but hearing those words fall from your lips felt like a weight suddenly coming along to crush him. he forgot about that, he stupidly forgot about that when he was having such a good time with you. were you only thinking about jeno the entire time you were with him? but if you were that shouldn’t matter right? he shouldn’t care about that because he shouldn’t care about you.

he shouldn’t care about that, but he hated the very thought of it.

before he can even think any longer, his body moved on its own.

you were walking, but jaemin stood in place. it felt worse when you didn’t even notice him stopping until he spoke.

“is that all you were thinking about?” 

jaemin saw you pause and turn around, a mixture of surprise and worry in your creased eyes. he walked up to you, the familiar feeling of both of your hands tangled into his. “it kind of hurts how you’re thinking about someone else when you’re with me, y/n.”

he let out a hollow laugh, directly mostly to himself because of how stupid he was acting, but he couldn’t help it. “i’ll keep my end of the deal later, i promise. but right now—”

your eyes met.

“can you only think of me tonight? can you do that?”

jaemin inched closer to you, his face so near that you can see all the unveiled stars littering his dark eyes. you could feel his breath against your skin, foreheads touching. but even at nonexistent distance, his soft, fragile voice was barely a whisper.

you didn’t say anything. he was waiting for you to say something. and even when he was in front of you, your eyes were still looking past him.

and he was starting to regret what he did— something he hadn’t felt in so long.

“i’m sorry, i—”

“wait right here.”

you cut him off, slipping away from his grasp in such a hurry that he didn’t even register that you ran off, that you were gone until a few moments after. he could hear your footsteps slowly disappearing, and a new wave of emotions bubbled inside of him.

god, you’re such an idiot. jaemin sighed, throwing his head back in frustration as he stared at the star littered sky. he did a lot of things that he didn’t expect to be doing today, and it was because he was absolutely stupid. you weren’t coming back, he had expected that, so he swiveled his heels and decided to just head to the bus stop to go home.

he didn’t expect you to return, but when he turned around he saw you running back towards him. 

jeamin’s eyes widened when he saw your bright face, and he noticed that something was dangling from your hand. he jogged up to you, and the closer he got, the clearer the objects in your hand became.

“nana! here!” you looked the same as you did at the courtyard earlier— hair a mess, breathing erratic, but somehow it still made jaemin feel all sorts of things that buried all his previous frustrations. “i noticed a vendor selling this on the sidewalk earlier while we were walking. you said you wanted to give me a remembrance for today, but it would be better if we both have something, don’t you think?”

jaemin was taken aback when you suddenly grabbed his hand, pressing something into his palm with a wide grin on your face as if the previous events just hadn’t unfurled. but he came to an understanding when he saw it.

it was a keychain— a pink bunny with a bow on its neck that looked similar to the ones in the claw machine earlier.

“it’s really nice isn’t it?” you gleamed at him, the heat burnings in his chest suddenly spread throughout his cheeks. “i’ll put mine on my bag!”

he watched as you hung the identical pink keychain on your bags zipper, stuck in a trance that only you could bring him out of. a satisfied hum left your lips when you finished, showing off to him the result of your work.

“there! now everytime that i look at it, i’ll immediately think of you, nana.”

it was dark out, the night sky painting everything in a murky hue, yet somehow looking at you felt like he was looking at the sun— bright, burning, and tugging him around your center of gravity. he smiled at you, slipping past a thank you from his lips, and you were flushed with relief. the walk to your house was resumed, until you both finally exchanged your goodbye's, but not without sending you one last sentiment to set him ablaze.

"nana!" you called out, just before he was about to leave. "text me when you get home, okay?"

a little more closer and he’d think he'd start burning.

"okay."

you beamed at him, nodding, before running inside your house. underneath the stars, he took out the keychain that you gave him, a lingering feeling tickling his skin when he did, and a ghost of a smile sneaked into him. 

even without it, jaemin knew that he'd be only thinking of you.

he pocketed the pink rabbit, trudging towards the long walk to the bust stop to catch the last ride home.

AN EYE FOR AN EYE // A HEART FOR A HEART

as they say, what goes around comes around. so when you break a hundred hearts out of the selfishness of your actions— be prepared to get your own heart broken a hundred times, as well.

16 // only think of me ✒

a/n: HUHU I’M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE I GOT WAY TOO CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS HUHU gosh, watch the next written part be like 3k or something i rlly hate myself. anyways!! i hope you liked this part because i know i did <33 pls lmk what you think!! ily mwah

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[starrywhump]

Hi can you post more Nico angst Maybe some stripping, gagging, tying up, etc

Thanks for the ask!  Here is some Nico angst, it’s very much emotionally whumpy as well as the physical aspect.  Please excuse typos I’m a terrible proofreader. Hope y’all enjoy!

First | Previous | Next

Nico shivered, he could still feel Rhea’s hands on him.  She had left hours ago, after thoroughly enjoying the final break of Nico’s defiance. But he could still feel her hands invading his space.  He scratched at his neck, trying to get rid of the feeling of her touch.  It didn’t help.

Nico was the cleanest he had been since he was captured, but he felt dirtier than ever.  A disgusting layer of humiliation laid on his skin.  He had to do it, he knew that.  He wasn’t just going to let Rhea shoot Ash, but his just blatant obedience made him sick. 

Even worse than that, he cried, he let Rhea get to him.  He felt like vomiting at the thought.  He tried to tell himself that just because he submitted to Rhea’s will this one time, it didn’t mean he gave up, but it sure felt like the beginning of the end.  

More and more the little voice in his head told him how much easier it would be to just stop fighting. 

Nico dug his fingers into his neck, focusing his mind on the dull stinging left in the wake of his fingernails. It helped a little. 

“N-Nico?” Ash’s voice was weak, it barely traveled across the cell to where Nico was sitting.

Nico got up quickly, moving to sit next to Ash in the middle of the floor, “Right here,” he said softly. 

Ash smiled weakly, dried blood around his lips cracked a bit as his skin moved. 

Right after Rhea had left earlier, Nico had, with some difficulty, untied Ash’s hands.  But even now he wasn’t restrained Ash could barely move.  Nico didn’t know the full extent of his injuries, but he looked pretty horrible.  

“you... ‘k?” it seemed to take a lot of effort for Ash to get the words out. 

Nico scoffed, “I don’t think I’m the person to be worrying about right now.” 

Ash laughed, or tried to, it came out more as weak cough.  He winced at the movement.

“Are you... what’s wrong?”  Nico’s voice was filled with concern.

Ash shook his head, unable to speak through his spluttering coughs.  Red flecks became clear on his lips.

“You need to be upright come on,” Nico spoke firmly, not letting his worries show in his voice. 

Ash didn’t seem to hear him, his eyes were filled with panic as he tried to get a moment to breathe. 

Nico carefully put a hand under Ash’s head to support him as he lifted him to a sitting position.

Ash’s eyes squeezed closed as Nico pulled him up.

He collapsed forward onto Nico's shoulder, blood trickling out of his mouth onto Nico’s shirt. 

Nico knew he should try to say something to comfort his friend. He opened his mouth but couldn't think of the right words.

Ash’s breath was ragged, desperately trying to get air into his lungs.

"Shushh, just... it's ok. Just- just try to breathe, slowly,” Nico’s tone came out more awkward than comforting. 

"t-trying.." Ash stuttered out.

"It's gonna b-"

Nico was interrupted as the door to their cell swung open.

"Awww, what a pair of darlings," Rhea cooed.

Nico bit his cheek, stopping himself from instantly snapping at her. For Ash's sake he couldn't, if he did something to make her mad it would only hurt him.  He couldn’t let her get to him.

"He needs a doctor." 

"Well he's still alive so he can't need one that bad," Rhea stepped into the room, letting the door close behind her.

"He's coughing up blood, that's not good. He needs a doctor." Nico grit his teeth, trying to keep himself from yelling.

Rhea pondered for a minute before shrugging, "Well I have three of you, if it's really that bad, he isn't integral to my little experiments."

"You're fucking sick," Nico growled.

A groan from Ash cut off their conversation, more blood spilled from his mouth.  Nico felt Ash’s body go slack in his grip, passing back out. 

Rhea moved on, ignoring him, “Today is a particularly special day. I have a nice little surprise for you all."

Nico's heart dropped, he knew that Rhea's words could mean nothing good.

Rhea reached to her belt for her radio, "bring it in please."

No no whatever it is keep it the fuck away. 

“You should be excited,” Rhea smiled.

Nico wrapped his arms protectively around Ash, “I’m not.”

Rhea gave him an exaggerated pout.  She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by a knock at the cell door. 

The door creaked open and one of Rhea’s men, carrying some kind of metal tool and what looked like a car battery.  Rhea watched with excitement as he set his armful down, she gave the guard a nod towards Nico, “put him back up on the wall please.”

Nico’s chest clenched. The last thing he wanted was to be chained up away from Ash, unable to stop Rhea from doing whatever she wanted to his friend.

The guard nodded and made his way towards Nico, grabbing him roughly by the back of the shirt.

“Wait!  Wait, let me let him down, so he doesn’t fall.” Nico felt a pang of humiliation rush through his body, his voice sounded dangerously close to a beg. 

The guard paused, looking up to Rhea.  She nodded silently with an amused smirk. 

Nico put his hand back behind Ash’s head as he lowered him back to the ground. 

As soon as Ash’s back was against the floor the guard pulled at Nico’s collar.

Nico elbowed back at the guard, “Just wait a second!” he growled.

Nico managed to push Ash to his side, albeit a bit rougher than he would have wished for, at least he wasn’t going to choke on his own blood. 

With a yank from the man behind him, Nico was forced to his feet.  He was slammed back into the wall, the air knocked from his lungs.

Nico coughed violently as the guard grabbed and fastened his wrists into the cuffs above him.  Nico was still gasping to regain his breathe when the guard stepped away.

Rhea dismissed the man with a silent wave, leaving Nico and Ash alone with just her. 

She turned to fiddle with what the guard had brought in.  From this new vantage point, Nico could clearly see Rhea’s newest implement of grief. But he still couldn’t exactly tell what it was. One piece of it was a large battery, a cord ran from the battery to a metal rod, about as long as his forearm, there was a flat disc of metal at the end of the rod. 

Rhea held the rod by its black handle, she turned slightly to adjust something on the other side of the battery. 

As she twisted Nico could see the bottom of the disc, in risen metal letters he could make out the words “Property of Rhea” with a small heart underneath. 

His eyes widened in horror as he realized what it was, “No! No... you can’t be serious!” 

Rhea flipped a switch on the battery, and a faint buzzing filled the room, “What a smart boy you are, figuring it out all by himself.  Though I am disappointed I didn’t get to tell you all about it myself.” 

“You-” Nico stopped the insults from rolling off his tongue, if he wanted any chance of this not happening he couldn’t make her angry.

“If- If- the cops ever saw it they’ll know your name, you can’t-”

“Do you really think I have only one?  And even if this was my real name, without a last name it's practically useless.”

no no no no no no. 

Nico’s mind was racing, there was no way this was happening, this couldn’t be happening. 

Rhea placed the brand on the floor, walking over to Nico,  “I know, it’s a lot, it’s scary, but I know you can do it,” she ran a hand through Nico’s hair. 

Nico jerked his head to the side, there was nowhere far enough to escape her touch. 

Rhea smiled at him, a warm smile that may have even been comforting in different circumstances, “It needs a few minutes to warm up, and after that, it will be over before you know it.” 

“You- you can’t fucking brand me,” Nico tried to stop from stuttering. 

“Language Nico, you had been doing so well.”

Rhea released his hair, she took a few steps back to look at both boys, “So who wants to go first.”

shit shit SHIT.

Nico hadn’t even thought of Ash.  He mentally kicked himself for being so selfish, worrying about himself when Ash was over there passed out on the floor. 

“You can’t do that to him now.”

“I can do whatever I want, both of you are getting it today.”

“Look at him!  You almost killed him he can’t handle anything else!  He’s already coughing up blood you can’t fuc-” Nico stopped himself, “you can’t burn him on top of all that.” 

“Hmmm,” Rhea made a mockery of thinking it over, “last I checked you don’t get to say what I can’t do.”

Nico felt hopeless, there was nothing he could do, nothing except, “What do you want me to do?”

Rhea gave him a questioning look.

“There’s always something you want from me.  Something I haven’t done yet that you want me to do.  I’m the one you can’t break, can’t get to do what you want.  Well, I will now, what will it take for you to leave him alone?”  Nico’s breathing quickened anticipating whatever horror he had just signed himself up for. 

“Well,”  Rhea’s face spread into a grin, “that is a delicious proposition.  So you’ll be branded?  And do whatever I want?”

“If you leave him alone.”

“He’s going to get it later on anyway.  Is all that pain, the humiliation, is it really worth it?”

Nico knew it was.  He wanted to help Ash.  This would take away the one real thing Rhea hadn’t been able to steal.  She could beat him and cut him however much she wanted but there was no way to force his obedience.  Now he was bartering it away for a temporary save. 

“He goes to a hospital too.”

Rhea gave an exasperated shake of her head, “I can’t do that, you-”

“Then medical care, at least- it can be here.  This is obviously some kind of criminal base or something and you must have a hospital or medical center.  Ash gets the care he needs, nicely, with pain meds and stuff not as another way for you to torment him.”

“You really think of everything don’t y-”

“And Hazel, she gets it as well.  Both of them, fixed up, and out of pain.”

Nico wracked his brain trying to think of anything else he could ask for.  The more panicked he got the harder it was for him to think. 

Rhea paused as if thinking it over, “I suppose... I might agree, but it would have to be very enticing to be worth it.”

“What do you want me to do?” Nico repeated.

“Submit, fully.  Do what I say, beg when I ask, no fighting, no cursing, no attitude. The second you slip up the deal’s off.”

Nico tilted his head up to try and stop tears slipping out of his eyes, his voice shook slightly, “I won’t slip up.”

“Well,” Rhea turned back to the brand, “good then, as long as you keep being good, they will receive medical attention, they won’t be hurt.  I expect your very best behavior and your active participation, can you do that?”

Nico nodded.

Rhea held the brand, turning back to Nico and raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Nico realized his mistake, “yes ma’am,” he corrected himself.

Rhea didn’t look satisfied. 

What did she want? 

Nico’s lungs felt tight, it dawned on him what she wanted, “Please, uh... please do it,” he could barely force out the words, “brand me.” 

“You can do better than that.”

Nico took in a stuttering breath, “please, please I want you to... it would uh- make me happy, please Rhea please brand me.” 

Nico let the words tumble out of his mouth reminding himself over and over he didn’t mean it. 

Rhea nodded, smiling she stepped toward Nico with the brand.  With one hand she traced her fingers along the hem of Nico’s shirt, gently lifting it up to expose his bare torso.  

“Hold this,” Rhea pushed the fabric into one of Nico’s cuffed hands.

“Yes ma’am,” Nico took it quickly, the tee-shirt now covering his view of Rhea.  He was breathing fast and heavy, having a hard time getting enough oxygen.  

Waiting for it to happen felt worse than-

That thought was quickly disproven as the red hot metal met his ribcage.  

He wasn’t sure if he screamed or not, he probably did.  

Everything just whited out for Nico, his vision, hearing, all just white, blinding pain.  

Worse than anything Nico had ever felt before.  

It felt like an eternity before the blind white screen faded back to Rhea’s face in front of him. 

Now he could tell he was screaming. 

His throat burned as he cried out, gasping for air. 

Rhea held Nico’s tee shirt up, Nico must have dropped it in his surprise, she was murmuring reassurances Nico couldn’t hear over his own sounds of pain. 

Finally, Rhea pulled the brand off of Nico, it pulled on his skin eliciting a yelp from her captive. 

Nico was breathing hard as he tried to regain his composure. 

It hurt. 

It hurt so incredibly bad. 

 All thoughts of strength or regaining his dignity were gone from Nico’s head. 

 Broken sobs came from the boy as he tried to get through it. 

“Shushhh, good job darling, good job,” Rhea’s hands were in his hair again but Nico barely felt it. 

His side felt like it was on fire, his tee-shirt brushing against it was unbearable. 

“Tell me what you feel,” Rhea’s voice dripped with a sick fascination.

Nico barely processed what she said, he looked up at her confused. 

“Tell me what you feel,” Rhea repeated more slowly.

Nico knew he had to, had to give his complete cooperation. 

“H-hu-hurts,” Nico struggled to talk between sobs.

“Mmmm I know, I know it hurts darling, but you did so good.”

Nico was limp in her hands as Rhea maneuvered his head to rest on her shoulder, “You did so good for me, don’t worry.”