#not entirely sure what i want his body to look like shape wise so we have various stages

[willfullwanderer]

weird lookin dog

[genork-the-fandork]

Team

Word Count: 762 Prompt: Cooperation Featured Characters: Takuma Momozuka & Minoru Hinata & Kaito Shinonome A/N: Okay, so I said I was going to explore other characters, but there are a couple days where I return to the main eight. This is one of those days. There is some slightly spoiler-ish territory? But in reality, this is just a kind of made up scenario of a brainstorming session my three favorite boys go through. (I say favorite as if I don't love Shuuji and Ryo to a degree too, haha.) It's been a while since I've written them or witnessed them, so I hope it's not terribly OOC. But nevertheless, I persist! @surviveweek

They needed a plan, but they couldn't agree on anything. Well. Correction. The boys couldn't agree on anything.

Aoi, Saki, and Miu had slunk away to let them all work it out. Takuma, Minoru, and Kaito stood in a triangle of sorts, three points of one shape, but all vastly different-minded. The Kemonogami stood in the spaces between them, a triangle of their own, but they hadn't weighed in on this particular discussion just yet. It seemed they had a silent agreement to let them work it out on their own. For once, Takuma did wish that Agumon at least would interject with something, anything.

Minoru sighed, his hands propped on his hips as his entire body slumped with the motion. "We're going in circles. Obviously we need to do something, but…" His expression crumpled, and he kept his eyes fixed on his feet. "I'm not sure we should be risking so much with everything's that happened."

"There's probably no other way," Kaito insisted, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. If he didn't keep his hands contained, they would start flying, and then nothing would get done. "It might be the only way we'll all get out of here."

Takuma agreed with both of them, in some sense. Yes, it was possible that fighting their way out seemed to be the only way to get things done in this world, but Minoru was right—so much had been lost already. How much more before there was nothing left? No one left? And why was it that he was caught in the middle of this? Again?

Kaito glanced down at Dracmon, who stared back at him in silence. "Do you three have anything to add?"

"You know I'm going to follow you no matter what you do, Kaito," Dracmon said simply.

"And I'll follow you, Takuma!" Agumon said, raising one of his clawed hands. Takuma couldn't ask for a better answer from his partner. It was support, and he knew he was going to need it in the coming hours, even days.

All eyes turned to Falcomon, who held up his wings. "You both have valid points. We'll need to be smart about this."

"Exactly. The smart thing to do is to face it head-on. They won't expect it, after everything." Kaito gestured vaguely, referring to the mysterious "they" that was after them.

"But what if they do? We already tried something like that, and Shuuji—" Minoru's mouth twisted, and he saw the pain flash across Kaito and Takuma's faces. What had happened to Ryo had been terrible. What happened to Shuuji… indescribable. Even if Minoru tried, it just made his stomach twist. Swallowing back the bile that wanted to creep up his throat, he continued, "Bad things have happened when we've tried this."

Kaito shook his head in exasperation. "We know better now. If we all stick together, it should be fine. Takuma?" He turned to Takuma, who had retained the same thoughtful look on his face during this entire discussion.

"You're both right," Takuma began. "We need to be careful, and we need to be smart. I do think sticking together, at least better than we have been, will help. Sitting around rarely works out for us. We usually end up doing something rash."

"What do you suggest, Takuma?" Falcomon asked, his eyes seeming particularly wise at this moment.

Takuma closed his eyes to put words to the shapeless thoughts in his head. "We make a plan. A much more thought-out plan than before. We need to be more aware that failure could happen at any moment." He paused, letting out a breath. "Overall, we need to stay together. Keep an eye on each other. Be honest with each other." Slowly, he met Minoru's gaze and then Kaito's. "Then we can make sure we take care of each other."

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation. Kaito and Minoru kept looking at him, processing his proposal. Then they looked at each other and nodded.

"Sounds good to me," Minoru said, the slump disappearing as he straightened and smiled.

Kaito's smile wasn't nearly as wide, but Takuma knew it was genuine all the same. "Yeah. Let's try it."

If this had been a team meeting, Takuma would have suggested they all put their hands in. That didn't seem applicable here, especially not with Falcomon's wings or the eyes on Dracmon's hands, but he pretended they had done it. "Then let's go tell the others."

It was the most hopeful any of the three of them had felt in a long time.

[bexlynne]

The Disruptors

Part 3 of 4

Part 1

Part 2

Procuring a ship was unexpectedly easy. Cyrus had cleaned up as best he could, painfully aware of how obvious it was he had nothing to his name. No matter how much he tried, his words would never bear the same weight as when he was flanked by armies and had the imposing figure of his master at his side. The man who sold him the ship was a humanoid figure in a severely stained jumpsuit, with a week’s worth of stubble on his chin. He was the sort of person Cyrus would have avoided in his old life, but at a time like this he’d sought out the sketchiest dealer he could find. Buying a ship was an arduous process, registering it even more so, and if Cyrus was correct in his assumptions then he and Tal’eth were both wanted fugitives. In the end, it appeared he had selected his dealer wisely. All it took was the assurance of a price paid in full, in cash, and the ship was his. The man never even asked his name.

“It’s a hospital transport ship,” he said later as he reconvened with Tal’eth. “Older than I am, but everything seems to be up and running. And everyone says that Corellian ships last forever.” He paused for another bite of somewhat stale bread, but the Twi’lek didn’t respond. His face was ashen, and he picked listlessly at his share of the food. A sheen of sweat stood out on his forehead, and as the days passed he spent longer and longer at a time in a feverish haze. Cyrus swallowed his last mouthful, a cold chill settling over him like a blanket. The man was dying; he could feel the life force draining from him. Moving him to the ship couldn’t wait another day. At least now the man was lucid, and would be able to help to some degree. He was several inches taller and several kilos heavier than Cyrus, and he wouldn’t be able to move him without some level of cooperation. “Right,” he said, getting to his feet. “We need to go.”

Cyrus positioned himself on the Twi’lek’s right side, since most of his injuries were on his left. Tal’eth found himself half-dragged from the bed before the young man’s words even registered, and barely held back a scream of agony as his entire body protested the movement. At this point he wasn’t sure which of his injuries was most severe; they seemed to have all blurred together into one ball of pain. He leaned heavily on the boy until he was sure his legs would support his weight. “We have to do this all in one go,” he said, his breath already coming in gasps.

“I know,” Cyrus said, grunting under the weight. “I brought the ship as close as I could. The docking bay is only about a hundred paces that way.” He positioned the man’s arm over his shoulders, taking the role of support and guide as they took their first step, already struggling under his weight. “We just have to make it… to the docking bay.”

A hundred paces may as well have been a hundred miles. They had to stop several times to rest, and by the time they reached the perimeter of the shipyard Tal’eth was worryingly pale and his arm was cold and clammy against Cyrus’ skin. “That one right there is us,” Cyrus said, his voice sounding out of breath and strained. Tal didn’t look up, but perhaps it was better that way. The ship was in worse shape than Cyrus had remembered, a cobbled-together mess of spare parts and scrap metal.

The interior wasn’t much better. Bacta tanks filled nearly the entire cargo hold, some smashed and unusable and all covered in a thick layer of dust. “What is this…?” Tal’eth broke into a fit of coughing, whether from the dust or the exertion Cyrus didn’t know.

“It’s a hospital transport ship, remember?” he said, fiddling with the nearest tank and sending out a silent prayer that at least one of them was functional. He glanced about, taking in the dust and disrepair and grunting as the Twi’lek leaned on him more heavily. “Well. A retired hospital transport.” The control panel lit up at his touch, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Quick, get in.” He didn’t bother to wait for his words to be understood or for Tal’eth to comply, choosing instead to manhandle his companion into the tank.

Tal’eth stumbled forward, letting his limbs be pushed and pulled as the boy saw fit. If he’d had his wits about him, his pride would have been sorely wounded. He had attempted to regain his autonomy in his escape from slavery, and here he was merely days later, weak as a kitten and at the mercy of a stranger. His head felt as if it were full of cotton, thick and numb and unable to think. He was dimly aware that this boy he’d just met had absolute power over him, power to either help him or hurt him. He should have been humiliated, and yet he found that he didn’t care. His chest ached with something like grief, but he found he didn’t care about that anymore, either. Even the pain was less bothersome now, having faded to a buzz of dull irritation, and he found he nearly didn’t notice it. He was either spinning or falling, he didn’t know what, a roaring in his ears. Moments later the healing waters of the bacta tank washed over him, and everything around him faded into deep, blissful nothingness.

[fanficshiddles]

Seductively Destructive, Chapter 4

Erin was excited about being on the bands tour bus. It felt like such a dream. But it wasn’t about to stop there…

Loki led her to the back of the bus where there was a small closed off room, the back of the room was filled up by a bed, size wise it was like a double bed. There was a small table at the end and he also had his own toilet just in what was like a cupboard basically.

‘We mostly stay in hotels when available, but this town is too small and we didn’t want to stay in the only hotel in town. Knowing we’d likely get hounded.’ Loki explained.

‘This is cosy though.’ Erin smiled up at him, she had to crane her neck slightly from how close he was to her.

‘Cosy indeed.’ Loki grinned and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, then his hand slid down and wrapped around her neck as he dipped down to kiss her.

Erin gasped slightly into his mouth, the way his hand was dominantly around her throat was turning her on something fierce. His tongue moved firmly and with confidence against hers, making her moan.

‘I’ve not been able to think of anything else but you since we first met.’ He whispered against her lips. His free hand slid under her top and he stroked up her back, causing goosebumps to erupt on her skin.

She blushed at his words, part of her wasn’t entirely sure whether to believe him or not though. But she was just going to enjoy tonight for what it was, not think about tomorrow.

But Loki wasn’t lying. He was infatuated with her, and had been from the moment he laid eyes on her during his gig. Right now, he wanted her. Everything about her he wanted. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could restrain himself.

He kissed her again, then using his body he turned her so her back was to the bed and slowly, carefully, he lowered her down but kept with her, never letting up with the kissing. Till they were on the bed and he was looming over her.

‘Ohh the things I am going to do to you…’ Loki chuckled darkly and began kissing and suckling down her neck as he slid her top up a bit, he lightly grazed his fingers along her abdomen.

Erin was sure she’d died and gone to heaven when he latched down on her shoulder and bit her rather hard, sucking for extra measure to leave a mark. Then he got to work on sliding her top up and off, she sat up a bit to help him get it off easier.

Loki took in a deep breath as he looked at her body, excited to unravel more of her. But first, he sat up and pulled his own shirt off. Erin wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol and joint she’d had that made her feel braver or just the fact she couldn’t resist him at all, she slid her hands up his chest, admiring his tattoos as well as his naked body.

He had a huge chest piece of a fierce snarling wolf that was done in a way so it was like the wolf was bursting out of his chest, some blood dripping from its teeth and it was surrounded with a few skulls, thorny roses and patterns. Erin ran her fingers over the tattoo, admiring it.

‘I bow to the beast inside.’ Erin sang his own lyrics to him lightly, smiling up at him.

Loki chuckled and leaned down over her again, he licked over the mark on her shoulder. He grazed his teeth against her skin and lightly moved up her neck before kissing her again briefly.

Loki moved onto his side enough so he could get at the front of her jeans to undo them, he began to tug them down her legs and she helped shimmy them off. He slid his hand right down her body, smoothing down over her stomach and then down her thigh to the back of her knee.

‘You are gorgeous, my pet.’ He growled and moved down the bed slightly, he noticed a skull tattoo surrounded by red roses on her left ankle. But it was when he flipped her over onto her stomach that he saw something else that caught his breath a moment.

She had his bands logo tattooed on the back of her thigh, just above the back of her right knee. His logo was of an emerald snake head within a black diamond shape.

‘My, my. You really are my mascot.’ He purred in delight and stroked over the tattoo, making her squirm. ‘In such a delightful place, too.’ He slid his hand up the back of her thigh till he reached her bum, he squeezed at her cheeks under her knickers.

He grabbed hold of her knickers and tugged them down and off. He spanked her ass quite hard, just the once, making her squeal and jump. Loki crawled over the top of her to stop her from getting up, he wrapped his hand around the front of her neck and slid up enough to control her. He forced her to look right upwards at him, craning her neck a bit, but to see the way he was looking at her was worth any kind of pain.

‘That was for laughing at the drumstick hitting me earlier.’ He smirked and kissed her from upside down while she giggled against his mouth.

Loki just had one final piece to remove from her, so he released her neck and moved back down enough so he could undo her bra clasp.

‘I must say, I am always honoured when girls throw their bras onstage to me. Though I was a little disappointed that you never threw yours to me.’ He said as he rolled her back over onto her back so he could take the bra off her completely, his mouth instantly began watering as he eyed up her breasts.

‘That would’ve spoiled the fun of tonight.’ She giggled. ‘And you can keep it, if you want.’ She shrugged nonchalantly.

Loki laughed and dipped down to bite her breasts, squeezing them in his large hands too. She let out small gasps and whines as he flicked his tongue out against her nipples.

‘I uhm… I…’ She started nervously but paused. Loki glanced up at her, still toying with her breasts. She closed her eyes and blurted out what she had to say. ‘You should know I’m a virgin.’

Erin hadn’t been sure on what kind of reaction to expect from Loki. But she was relieved when it wasn’t one of disgust or ridicule.

On the contrary, the thought that she hadn’t been taken by another man made his cock twitch so badly. He contained a big grin though, not wanting to scare her entirely. Though they both knew she was complete putty in his hands now.

He moved up over her again and kissed her as he pressed his body down against hers enough for her to feel his own arousal. Letting her know that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

As he nipped down he neck, he let his let hand slide down between her thighs where he finally started touching her. He found her already soaking wet, but as he slid his fingers through her folds she started whimpering more.

‘I will wait endlessly… I will break you carefully...’ Loki sang to her seductively as he circled her clit with his thumb and gently slid a finger into her. She was unbelievably tight already, but he felt her body clench around his finger in response to his words.

She surprised him by singing back to him again. ‘So take me harmfully.’

He removed his hand from between her thighs and smiled fondly at her as he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, then pushed in between her lips. She started sucking on his thumb instantly and flicking her tongue around him.

‘Oh, baby. You have no idea what you are doing to me. I think you were made to be mine.’ He growled. ‘But first, I still have a favour to repay.’

Erin’s breathing quickened as he shifted down her body and now instead of moving slowly, his movements became fast and he positioned her legs over his shoulders. She was so aroused now there was no point on teasing her anymore, so he dove in to feast on her like a man possessed.

She reached down to grab at his hair for something to hold onto, his tongue was moving so skilfully she felt like she was going to pass out. He had definitely done this before, the man certainly knew what he was doing. Erin swore she almost saw the light when he made her cum on his tongue, she’d never experienced pleasure like it before.

Loki smacked his lips and growled once he was finished devouring her. He hopped up off the bed to remove his jeans, giving her a moment to come down from her high. But her body was still buzzing and tingling all over, especially when she looked and saw him completely naked. His cock hard and already had pre cum dripping from the tip.

He crawled back on the bed over her. He had planned to absolutely ruin her tonight, but now knowing she was a virgin, he decided to be as gentle as he could be. There would be plenty more times to have some real fun.

He took her slowly and gently, easing into her. She was so wet that it was smooth enough for her first time, though a slight uncomfortable and full feeling initially, till she adjusted. He spoke dirty words to her when he began thrusting into her firmly but steadily.

She couldn’t stop trembling as she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, squealing and whimpering from the pleasure as he rocked into her.

‘That’s it, let me hear you. Let yourself go.’ He whispered between kissing her.

He kept his body closely pressed down against hers, skin on skin both of them a hot sweaty mess. Loki could tell she was close when she got even tighter and her breathing became rather erratic, so he slid a hand down between them and stroked her clit to help move things along for her. Not that she really needed it. But it certainly sent her over the edge, her orgasm crashed over her like a strong wave.

Loki kept moving even as she continued cumming, so he could follow her soon after and he came inside her. His arms were shaky as he tried his best not to just collapse on top of her and crush her.

Erin could feel his cock throbbing inside of her as he filled her up. A few tears rolled down her cheeks from the intensity of the pleasure.

Loki couldn’t help himself, he licked away one of her tears off her cheek, he smirked when he felt her clench around him again from the action. But he slipped his arms around her and rolled them to the side so they could get more comfortable.

She took some time to calm down, her body stopped trembling eventually. Though her skin was still tingling because he was stroking her back.

‘Are you alright?’ Loki asked as he smoothed her hair back from her face.

‘Mmhmm… More than alright.’ She said shyly and hid her face to his neck, making him smile.

There was a comfortable silence for a while, then Erin piped up. ‘I’m glad that I didn’t have to work my way through your band and tour crew to get into your bed.’ She said cheekily.

‘And you shall never grace any of their beds, ever. Only mine.’ Loki laughed and squeezed at her sides, making her laugh too.

[profoundbondfanfic]

Surprise! You get an extra list of fic recs. Fifth and final day of sharing our favorite aro/ace/demi fics. Tomorrow we will be sharing a masterlist of all 55 fics included in our lists this week sorted by tags, so stay tuned!

Part 8

Checked Out by whelvenwings [General, 27K, Demi!Cas]

Castiel Novak can think of many writers who would not be welcome under the roof of Heaven’s Gate library, where he is the librarian: Ayn Rand ranks highly (no explanation needed), as does Charles Dickens (he hasn’t forgiven Charles for the month he lost to The Pickwick Papers). And, of course, Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester, local author and obvious a-hole, who is entirely too handsome to be true and who is clearly totally lacking in profundity, intelligence, sincerity, and self-awareness. Unfortunately, though, Dean’s been invited to do a book signing at Heaven’s Gate - and Castiel’s about to be confronted by some unexpected feelings when he finally meets Dean for the first time.

space(dust) & fine metals by quillquiver [Explicit, 5K, Ace!Cas]

Castiel wonders, often, if his blue blood is not just as tainted; only a wild thing groomed to tame a wild people would flee. And flee, he did. The ship was called Impala, its purpose mysterious enough for its mechanic-cum-captain to take one look at the offered credits and nod. Or, On their eighteenth anniversary, Dean and Castiel retrace their steps.

Unbroken by SailorChibi [Teen, 3K, Aro!Dean, Aro&Ace!Cas]

Somewhere on your body, there's half of a shape that's unique to you and one other person on Earth. That person is your soul mate and together, you make a whole. But then there's the people like Castiel, the ones who are born with a whole shape, the freaks who don't have soul mates. Castiel grew up used to the pitying stares that told him he would always be alone. He's not sure why he thought Dean Winchester would be different, or why he had to ruin everything by trying to prove otherwise.

rejoining by sharkfish [Mature, 8,6K, Ace!Dean]

“You moved an alpha in and didn’t even think to ask me?!" “I didn’t ask you when I moved Charlie in.” “I didn’t live here then, jackass. And she’s a lesbian, so it doesn’t count.” “I thought it would be a little rude to ask Castiel his sexual orientation,” Sam says, being a fucking priss. “Maybe he’s straight.”

As You Walk On By by MercyBraavos [Explicit, 23K, Demi!Cas]

Dean and Castiel grew up together. Fell in love together. Lost their virginity together. Made plans for the future, their future, together. There’s only one problem: Castiel doesn’t remember any of it.

Plain and Tall by destielpasta & mtothedestiel [Explicit, 69K, Demi!Dean]

Dean is a Kansas farmer who only wants to work his land and care for his infant daughter. With his wife gone and his brother moving on to a life beyond the homestead, Dean finds himself in need of another pair of hands. Castiel, a lonely drifter freshly arrived in town, may prove the solution to Dean’s troubles. Over the course of four seasons, the two men face the everyday challenges of prairie life, and learn to overcome the betrayals of their past to discover a new definition of family.

Typecast by mnwood [Explicit, 74K, Aro!Dean, Ace!Cas]

Up-and-coming movie actor Castiel Novak knows he'll never be taken seriously if all he ever plays is betas, and as an alpha he certainly doesn't think it's a wise career choice to play an omega. However, when he's offered the omega role in a gay romance and learns that the much more famous (and his crush) Dean Winchester is playing the alpha, Cas decides maybe it's time to take a risk. But when they meet on day one, Cas isn't sure what to make of Dean's scent.

[dragonmuse]

I was thinking about Charlie and his anger this morning and then I got to thinking how did Stede process his anger towards his own father? Because it seems like that man only ever saw Stede as a particularly useless pawn in some sort of game and that would mess a person up. Like does Stede ever look at a decision he's making and wonder if he's doing it because he wants to or because his father would hate it?

(such a good question and I thought who better for Stede to talk about it too than Charlie himself? This takes place during Charlie's visit to the city at the end of 'I Wanna Sink to the Bottom With You')

Stede observed the sweet tableaux as he made himself a cup of tea.

Seated on the velvet couch was Charlie, one foot tucked under the other leg, a book in hand. Stretched out with his head pillowed on Charlie’s thigh was Felix, his dark curls spilling over denim. Charlie’s free hand was idly resting on Felix’s shoulder. Their youth was all the more apparent in the forgiving light of late afternoon.

Stede couldn’t help, but see another familiar scene laid over it: himself with his own book and Eddy draped over him, drowsing and occasionally stirring to ask a question or prod Stede into reading whatever it was to them. The couch had seen so many afternoons just like this. Charlie may have carved his body into a new shape for his sport, but there was little he could do about his face which was almost entirely Stede’s. Aside from the lighter color of his eyes and a slightly sharper cut to the shape, every feature had been drawn down the Bonnet line. 

Was this what an outsider might see of Stede and Eddy? There would  be differences. Eddy was never as still as Felix was, awake or asleep. Felix was a quiet man, and not inclined to fidgeting. He smiled easily though, and wasn’t reticent when a question was aimed at him. Watching him pitch the day before had been interesting. It was a graceful movement, which Stede hadn’t reckoned on. 

He waited for the hot water and watched as Charlie turned a page, apparently entirely lost in thought. Was that Stede's expression too?

Keep reading

“Stare any harder and my head is going to catch on fire,” Charlie said without looking up from his book.

“Sorry,” Stede whispered. “Just lost in thought.”

“You don’t have to whisper. He’s out. Sleeps like a rock,” Charlie told him. “Can I have a cup too?”

“Of course. Milk and no sugar still?”

“Yep.”

Stede brought him the mug when it was done and sat down in the chair next to the couch.

“Thanks,” Charlie put his book down on the arm, cracking the spine. It was already a well-loved copy, but Stede still had to hide his distress at that.

“Are you two going out tonight or should we figure out something for dinner?”

“Going out. He’s got a few friends in town from the minors,” Charlie smiled into his mug “Wants to introduce me.”

“That’s good. Where are you headed?”

“Some hotel lounge, I didn’t really process the name. He’s got the address.”

“All right. We’ll probably still be out when you get back.”

“Might crash in his hotel room anyway,” Charlie said casually.

“I see.” What could Stede say to that? Charlie was a man now. He could go about the world as pleased. As he had apparently always done. It would just be hypocritical to stop him now when he was happy. “Let me know if you don’t mind. We’ll be careful of our clatter if we know you’re home.”

“Sure thing,” Charlie sipped his tea.

“What are you reading?”

“Going back to the classics. I need stuff I can just let wash over me right now, so my brain isn’t in the pool all the time. But I can’t absorb anything new.”  He tilted the cover so Stede could see ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ by Shirley Jackson.

“What’s that about?”

“Right,” Charlie had a rueful smile. “Classic for some, I guess. Uh, let’s see...Plot wise it’s straight forward. A woman takes a job to live in a house for a summer with a paranormal investigator. She had this weird experience as a kid that the researcher thinks might make her open to the experience and it does. It established a lot of beats in haunted house narratives.”

“Oh, so ghosts and ghouls?” Stede held his own mug close. He never understood his children’s fascination with the macabre, but it was starting to occur to him that he better learn and fast. The things they had in common beyond memories were a shrinking iceberg.

“Yeah, but that’s not really what it’s about. It’s rarely what a horror story is about,” Charlie tapped a finger against his mug. Felix twitched in his sleep. “Ghosts are stand-ins for so many things. For Eleanor,  it’s a lot of things. She’s scared of the world, she feels stripped of her power. She has this moment where she sees a little girl, who won’t drink her milk unless it’s out of this special cup- a cup of stars- and Eleanor wills the little girl not to give into her mother’s persuasion to drink without it.”

Charlie paused, he looked to Stede, as if checking for- for what? Engagement? Interest? Was there some undercurrent that Stede was missing?

“A cup of stars sounds like it’s worth waiting for,” he offered.

“Yeah,” whatever he was looking for that seemed to satisfy it and Charlie went on, “Eleanor feels trapped and powerless. She meets the other woman in the experiment, Theodora, and it’s hard to deny that there’s attraction there. This sublimated desire.  Jackson is great at hiding things from the reader and from the protagonist themselves, so you never know how real the haunting is. Could be Eleanor’s mind playing tricks or maybe she has some ability all on her own to effect the people around her. Could be ghosts, could be repression.”

“What do you think?” Stede asked into the sudden silence, moved to chase this down. To see Charlie continue his impassioned lecture.

“Through the whole thing, Eleanor wants to find a home. She’s never been comfortable anywhere. She decides that Hill House is her home, even though we know from the beginning of the story that the house itself is ‘not sane’.  I think...mm. I think it doesn’t matter if the ghosts are real. It matters that they feel real to her and as horrifying as the haunting may be, it doesn't matter. She wants to make a home in it. All her life, nowhere has felt home, you know? Her mother was dependent on her and Eleanor seems to have hated her. Her sister discourages her and makes her feel less than.

"Her desire to find a place where she belongs means she'll ignore every sign that it can't be where she is. She wants to connect to anybody. When her hope that's Theodora is cut off, it all gets poured into the house itself. And the house pleads where her to 'come home'. So maybe it's that. Maybe she's in love with the house, in love with death itself. Maybe it's just about wanting someone or something to accept you so badly that you'll die for it.”

“Goodness,” Stede regarded the volume. “I’ll have to read it myself.”

“Really?” Charlie asked, hand falling over the book, covering it.

“Really.  You know, if you do decide to pursue your doctorate, I think you’ll make an excellent professor.”

“Why?” Charlie closed the book, not even holding his place, as if he could drag it back out of Stede’s sight. He would definitely have to read it now.

“You really care about all this. That kind of love is contagious, I’ve found. The best teachers can convey that passion to their students.”

“Yeah? That’d be cool. I wouldn’t mind selling other people on horror.”

“You sold me. Certainly a discouraging family is a resonant theme.”

Charlie nodded vaguely, then frowned. “You know, you don’t really talk about them.”

“About who?” Stede sipped his tea.

“Your parents.”

“Oh. Well. For good reason.”

Charlie stared at him and when nothing else was forthcoming, made a ‘go on’ gesture with the paperback and Stede had to concede to that.

“Your grandmother died before I could know much about her. I remember she had a nice voice, unusually low for a woman. That she had a yellow dress that I liked. There’s photos, you’ve seen them,  and I think Alma looks a bit like her, but I don’t know much else. She had money, no career that I know of, and she married Father when she was just seventeen. He never spoke of her with any particular feeling. Her parents were disinterested in me.”

“Disinterested,” Charlie repeated, question curled there.

“They were cold people, Charlie,” he sighed. “All of them. Like someone had told them a long time ago that feelings were for the poor. I’m not surprised that my father married into a family like that since he was just the same. I hope my mother was different, but I really don’t know.”

"I remember him visiting a few times," Charlie nodded. "He didn't really look at us though. Said something mean to Mom, but I can't remember what."

"He never had a kind word to say about anything to do with me. I tried to keep him away from you two. He thought children should be invisible and it seemed best to let him go on thinking that."

“You hated him,” Charlie said, outright and bald as if Stede had told him this many times.

As if Stede had ever said it aloud even to himself. Certainly he’d talked around, told Eddy the stories, but the words had never been laid out so naked.

“He hated me,” Stede frowned. “He didn’t even try to hide it.” 

“Oh,” Charlie said softly. “That must’ve sucked.”

“It wasn’t pleasant,” he looked into his tea, hoping for guidance and finding only sediment. “I don’t- when I held you in my arms for the first time, I promised myself that I’d do better. It would’ve been difficult to do worse.”

“You did do better,” Charlie assured him in a rush.

“I don’t know about that. I think you turned out well despite me, not because of me most of the time,” Stede smiled tightly at him. “I was so angry. The kind of anger that you don’t know is there. It just...smolders like embers in a fireplace, burning you from the inside out and on the surface you smile and laugh and pretend that everything is fine. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” the word broke out harsh and torn. “I do.”

“I was afraid that you would say that,” Stede sighed. “I carried that in me. Never looking at it. Never thinking about it.”

“What changed?”

“He died,” he said with a shrug. “It was like a weight came off the world for me. For all of us. I could ensure that you and Alma would get the money without any more strings attached.  Your mother and I could stop pretending we were what he wanted us to be. I could breathe. And with all that space...you think about things more.”

Charlie nodded, staring off for a minute, “I think I needed to leave for that.”

“Maybe it’s what all of us need eventually. To leave the nest,” Stede nodded a little. “As long as you know you can always come back.”

“Here now, aren’t I?” his focus returned to Stede’s face. “Do you think you’d ever forgive him?”

Stede tried to imagine such a thing. How would that feel? What would it look like?

“I should say yes.”

“Just say the truth, Dad,” Charlie told him.

“No. No, I don’t think I will. That kind of cruelty to a child is...should be, unforgivable. Especially without repentance or acknowledgement.” 

Stede could feel that coldness in him, the hard rock that his father had left behind. Years of care and warmth had thawed out most of it, but there would always be a pebble lodged there.

“Yeah,” Charlie nodded. “Good. He sounds like a dipshit.”

“Of the first order,” Stede agreed.

“But-” Charlie hesitated. He looked down at Felix, who hadn’t moved again. He was still lightly snoring. “I meant what I said too. I forgive you. And...and I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Stede set down his tea. 

“I didn’t give you a chance sometimes. To do better.”

“Oh, Charlie,” he got up and though the angle was awkward and he was trying not to wake Felix, Stede managed to hug him and Charlie hugged him back hard. “You never ever have to apologize. Not for any of it. I’m so proud of you.”

“Don’t know why.”

Stede pulled back enough to kiss his forehead like he used to when Charlie was small at bedtime. He definitely didn’t smell like talcum powder anymore. He smelled like chlorine and some harsh shampoo. He was a man, in many ways.

“Because you’re living your truth, right now. Even though it’s hard, even though you’re scared. I wish I had been that brave. I wish I had  told my father how angry I was even if he was never sorry. I’m proud of you and I love you.”

“Yeah,” Charlie choked out, voice thick with feeling. “I love you too, Dad.”

There was not much that could follow that up. So Stede just held out his hand and with a reluctant nod, Charlie put the the book into his hand. In return, Stede went to his shelves and pulled out a volume, passing it to Charlie.

“I read this last summer. I kept thinking you might enjoy it, but I never had a chance to give it to you.”

“The Secret History...oh yeah! I keep meaning to read this.”

“If you think it’ll be too much while you’re trying to keep your head out of the pool, I’d understand.”

“I’ll give it a shot.”

So they settled back into their separate worlds. They’d always done this well, reading together, enjoying the quality of shared silence.

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more.......

.

[frosted-night]

Jack Frost Designs Review

Yes it’s finally his time. This is going to include his book designs including previous incarnations in said books. There are more movie concept designs than book so, let’s dig in shall we?

This was in fact the first ever Jack Joyce designed while he came up with The Guardians Of Childhood. He even comes with his own backstory! (Which was cut. Sorry Joyce posts walls of text so it’s a girthy read.)

So instead of a young mischievous trickster, we got a much more depressing story of Jack. (Jack by default is sad obviously) but this one... It kind of hits differently and almost reminds me of the story he crafted for Pitch. A dad who tried to defend his family but through tragic events was ripped from them and changed completely. Design wise, he’s a lot more tree than snow. There doesn’t exist a colored version of this so we’ll never know if he sported winter and dull dead leaf colors rather than grassy greens.This Jack has a weird presence to him, I can’t put my finger on it. Rating: 6/10 He’s really neat! Just a little too Autumn feeling rather than a blend of both Autumn and Winter.

Nightlight feels like the baby evolution if Jack was a pokemon and that's what I’m gonna stick with. Below is a more recent version of him colored.

In all honesty that one is easier on the eyes proportion wise because sometimes Joyce has ‘interesting’ anatomy choices but we aint going into that today. It’s interesting how his hair somehow looks shorter and longer than Jack’s at the same time. Could be because the longer strands float seamlessly but star boy hair physics what can ya do. It’s a little hard to tell what is his skin and what is his armor, so that is a casuality in making a character only have one or two colors in their color scheme. I love other artist’s depictions of Nightlight but the canon one feels a little weak color wise. Rating: 5/10 Sorry, get some better LEDs and then come back.

Here we have a book Jack but I can’t entirely recall if this was used in the books or not. I digress. This design looks like him still wearing very Nightlight-esque armor/clothing and slowly growing into his new persona as Jack Frost. The intricacies are hard to make out but we’ll work with it. This one is very interesting to me because he very much looks like an older teen close to young adult. His hair looks very fluffy too. Not many complaints about this one but not much praise either.

Rating: 6/10 Not great but doesn’t stand out that much.

Remember when I said Joyce had ‘interesting’ anatomy decisions? Jack looks like he has half a head here and it bothers me GREATLY. This is the adult Jack design he went with. Supposedly he likes the opera and he sure looks it. This! Exists!! Kind of wish it didn’t. The outfit is nice but it just doesn’t fit Jack as a whole. This just screams to me that it’s someone else with a similar-ish hairstyle.

Rating: 3/10 Guess he’d be the...Phantom Of The Opera. (I’ll go home and so should he.)

And finally the final Jack. This is the one that almost exactly resembles the Jack we got in the movies(Probably because it was made after the movie but w/e) but just add a cape on him. I can’t really tell if hes got a hoodie and a cape, or just a cloak+hood on top of a sweatshirt. It isn’t too important because my thoughts on this one are obvious. Rating: 10/10 Edna Mode would have a field day with you boy.

MOVIE DESIGN TIME

Joyce claims this is a design he drafted when Leonardo DiCaprio was considered to voice Jack and I can kind of see that with how his face is drawn here. This Jack looks a lot more like a warrior and less of that trickster look. I can’t say I’m a fan of the weird antenna his hood has but his sword is really cool looking.

Rating: 4/10 Nice bow and sword but it can’t save your fashion choices.

This looks like a lanky 11-13 year old who would put rocks or slugs in my shoes and relish in my disgust. He has the exact look of a snot nose kid and I’m unsure how to feel about it.

His various hairstyles drafted here sort of make him softer looking or just more of a snot nose, no in between. Maybe even an Anime Protagonist.

The top right one almost looks like Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon if you squint. It’ll be a little hard to rate them all as one individual but why not.

Rating: 5/10 I don’t hate them but they aren’t my cup of tea.

AH- IS THAT A FUCKIN GREMLIN?

Oh wait no it isn’t he looks like a 10 year old. Whatever don’t feed him after midnight. The staff’s design of not being shaped like a G is an interesting tidbit but the whole design looks like he’s really young or like a troll etc. This Jack looks like he thinks girls have cooties uses outdated slang.

Rating: 4/10 This is me being generous.

It honestly looks like he hiked his pants up all the way to his chest. A late teen with horrid fashion choices once again. Not many other thoughts here.

Rating: 2/10 Get a sweater on or something.

This is one is very interesting looking to me. His clothes looked a lot more leather based and very human-like. The tatters, tears and frays all make him look like he was a victim of an accident that never changed his clothes. It makes me wonder if this Jack had the same death as the final movie Jack or something else entirely. Either way, this one looks like hes a mid to late teen which really adds to my intrigue.

This was another image that greatly resembled the design so I included it here. It almost looks like his skin is blue here which is pretty neat to me at least. He’s also got leaf motifs here, which from the first Jack design Joyce made, we can see a pattern here.

Rating: 8 /10 I was originally weirded out by his head but now its not so bad.

This Jack is definitely dressed more like a nature boy rather than him having human influenced fashion and it’s an appealing touch. The tiny leaf sprouting from his staff is also kind of cute since the designers seemed to want to put leafs somewhere on his designs. His hairstyle is also very cute but it reminds me of Sasuke Uchiha in a sense. (Not a setback for me at least)

Rating: 7/10 13 year old Jack is going thru a phase.

I thought this Jack didn’t show up again in story boards but I was wrong!

They look a little different from each other but just similar enough to pair together, so bare with me. The first one obviously has looser pants, slightly longer sleeves and got his leaf motif going. This second Jack is a VERY green. It gives the impression that this Jack made his clothes out of plants and natural materials. Again I’m not wholly sure if greens fit his color scheme but they sure went for it for a while. I can’t say I’m a fan of it because it heavily reminds me of Peter Pan.

However a very similar looking Jack could be found in this storyboard. It doesn’t look as green as the other storyboards made it out to be and looks more like dead grass. Which is a pretty nice touch.

Rating: 5/10 I don’t hate it but it just doesn’t vibe yknow.

Speaking of a vibe...hoo this certainly has one.  This Jack isn’t old but certainly doesn’t look very young, maybe in the 20-30 range, thats just me. He has facial features that remind me of Pitch but resembles the Jack Frost of Santa Clause 3

That being said, I wondered if him looking similar to Pitch was in the storyline of them being brothers.(Which was a scrapped thing, who knew.) He’s a bit more menacing in this design but certainly seems like he relishes in his work.

Rating: 4/10 I’d make it a lower score but I gotta give it props

NOW THIS JACK IS KINDA INTERESTING. This one looks like he’s 16 and going through a grunge phase. He’s gonna play Nirvana loudly and not turn it down even if you tell him too. His staff itself has mini icicles hanging off of it and leafs look stuck to his shirt. Did you glue or staple those on Jack? His hair also looks much longer than his other designs and I kind of dig it( Shut up I’m bias.) I’m not wholly sure why else this design has stuck with me but it just has something about it that I just love. I wish there was a full body drawing of it.

(He also kinda has the same hair as the Jack Frost in Runescape but I wont go on about that hoo hoo)

Rating: 9/10 *Bad Boy by Cascada plays in the distance*

This one definitely feels like middleschooler trying to be in a band. His sticks just resemble drumsticks to me what can I say. I’m a big fan of his shoes and his color scheme screams a hibernating tree in winter. His hair also looks like it’s covered in frost rather than it being wholly white, which is very neat!! He looks like he wants to fight but has slight hesitance. Overall a very balanced Jack.

Rating: 8/10 He’s ready for band practice

Not many thoughts here, I just found these tiny Jack designs cute. His hoodie being a jacket instead just adds to the charm of this one.

No talk to him he angy.

Rating: 6/10 fun sized boi

Now this Jack resembles the one earlier that dressed entirely in leather brown colors, however he clearly is different than that one. I’m gonna say it, he looks like a zombie or undead in this design and its pretty fucking gnarly. I don’t know whats going on with his hair but I’m gonna assume it’s just the wind making it look like that. He just has the vibe that he was once human but was turned into something else entirely. It isnt in uncanny territory but borders that. This version of Jack meeting Pitch and the others would have been *very* interesting. Rating: 7/10 Eat a twinkie Jack you’ll feel better.

The final design! I can’t complain much about this one. The way his staff subtly has a G shape and a hexagon(his signature shape) is a wonderful touch. Additionally, the way the frost is gathered mostly where his hand is such an intricate detail. His signature hoodie is iconic at this point so I can’t bad mouth that either.(I can’t anyway because there's no complaints from me here.) Although, I never understood the leather straps that his pants had or their functions. I couldn’t find any colonial outfits that resembled Jack’s pants so its a total mystery to me at least.

And I can’t go on about this design until I mention the snowflake pattern in his eyes

Pure beauty. It’s at a hue of blue that almost looks impossible to have, combined with the electric blue color of the snowflake in his eyes. The amount of detail in this movie amazes me to this day. Rating: One Great Blizzard <3/10

[arcadejohn127-9]

Could you do the Brothers and undatables reacting to MC being poisoned and finding out that Micheal was trying to kill them because he was jealous that MC was close with the brothers. Let me just say your work is great the way you describe the situation before going into the reactions is really interesting. Thank you so much!!!!

I already had this ask half way done but Tumblr decided to delete all my work due to buggy WiFi - I'm currently in pain 😭

I don't know much about poison so bare with me, I just looked at the basic symptoms and went "I'm smart" I've passed out after being ill or just in general quite a few times when younger so I had faith

This also has a bonus Michael part! I've decided to add his response to the boys reactions in its own format or else each one will just have a repeat of the same Michael Response

Warning: angst, implied vomitting, attempted murder, fainting, spoilers of lesson 37 and 16, gore on Michaels part, long

"from Michael...?" You questioned outloud, unsure on how to feel about the parcel you've found.

Your relationship with the angel wasn't a defined one. You didn't hate him but you didn't like him either; there was always something about his presence that made you fearful. You choked it up to be just internalised fear due to hearing the brothers experience of the celestial realm and angels.

You've never met him in person; the first conversation you had of him was when you stabbed yourself with the dagger instead of Lucifer. You saw the light and he spoke to you, surprised and shocked at the love you had for the demons. Even then you never really got to speak to him again, he was a mystery. You've sent a few letters and he's returned some and Simeon is a link between you two. But other than that? You didn't really have a relationship with him.

So why? Why would he send you a gift?

You looked inside to see a packet of apple pieces and herbs inside of a snack shaped teabag. You admired the unique shape and couldn't stop a small smile appearing. It was definitely cute! And you finally got to use the new kettle and cups barbatos got you.

You decided to text Simeon, telling him to thank Michael for your gift. He was surprised by this but agreed, happy you two were connecting.

Whilst your new tea brewed you were trying to figure out a way to repay his kindness. Sure it was simple small gift but he was reaching out - you were giddy! Hopeful this meant he was fully on board to the exchange program.

But you soon would regret drinking that tea. It was so sweet you couldn't stop drinking it; your lips only leaving the cup of a second of breath. It was addicting. The herb covered apples pieces gave it a nice slight bitterness. But it wasn't overbearing but didn't make it taste like sugar in your mouth.

As soon as the last gulp came down; something came up. You hunched over as your stomach churned, a disgusting taste forcing itself up your throat. Your vision growing blurry as you stumbled out of your seat, the light in your room feeling like knives to your eyes. You tried closing them but the effect didn't change. You were barely hunched over on your side releasing everything in your stomach. It stung your throat, your stomach feeling painfully empty.

There was this invisible feeling telling you to go to sleep. You wanted to obey but the light felt too painful. In your dazed state you shakily texted the groupchat a sloppy "help me ASAP, my room" before letting your body go limp, heaving as you just laid there, dragging a nearby jacket over your head and let your vision be consumed by the darkness.

Lucifer:

He's heart broken

How did this happen? You were fine and now you're not moving

Your breathing was faint against his neck as he held you

He saw the parcel and connected the dots, Eden's tea

It was a death sentence for any human, a treat for demons and a punishment for angels

He's started a war once, he can do it again

Whilst he knew he couldn't enter the celestial realm he demanded that Michael show himself

When his demands went unanswered, he was ready to break all rules

"He's gone too far, I don't care for his reasons! I WILL DESTORY THE CELESTIAL REALM IF I HAVE TO! HE WILL ANSWER ME!"

when you received a cure all his angers washed away with relief

Happy to have you awake again even if it was for a few moments

Mammon:

FLASHBACK ARE STRONG

All he can think about his how you looked like in the past; dying in his arms

He immediately went to blame belphie but almost tripped over the parcel

He's an idioit but he knew what this tea was

Becomes feral with rage and overly protective of your unconscious body

He's hunched over by your side at all times just growling at anyone who comes near you

He wanted to hurt Michael but he wanted to stay with you

He'd talk to you and tell you how he was going to get payback

"I should of known he'd do something-! I'll never forgive him- DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!!! I'M DOING THIS FOR THEM!"

As soon as you get the cure he's hugging you and telling you how much he missed you

Levithan:

When he found you, his heart dropped

It only got worse when he found the parcel and realized what Michael has done

he will remind the celestial realm why he is an admiral of hell's navy

He spends time by the sea communicating with any creature he can get; telling them if things go down he'll need them to flood the gates of heaven

When he isn't planning war he's with you, playing games, trying to ignore how dead you looked

He would remind you what buttons to push when your chatacter didn't move

"YOU THINK I'LL JUST LET THIS SLIDE??!! HE'S KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!"

He broke down sobbing when you woke up after getting a cure

He was convinced you were dead but here you were, alive and awake

Satan:

He's a detective nerd so of course he scoped out the scene

When he found the parcel and Michaels name - oh boy

Never met the man and pities him for letting their first meeting be the angels demise

It wasn't long before he had to be detained

Screaming and tearing up anything he could, yelling at his brother's for falling

He blamed his brothers, he blamed Michael and he blamed himself

Hated being locked away from you, would course more of a fuss when he couldn't see you

"I WILL KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU IF YOU DON'T LET ME GET TO THAT DAMN ANGEL!! I HATE YOU!"

He's only calmed down when you are given a cure and he's told you're alive

Is finally allowed to see you and he holds you tight

Asmodeus:

When he found you he was sobbing

It only grew worse when he found out what happened

In Denial

Not of Michael, he believed that but in denial you were dead or were dying

Kept insisting you were just tired and sleeping

Destroyed an entire room when one of them insisted you weren't sleeping

He'd help you get ready and pamper you, telling you it's okay and you can thank him when you feel better

Would be seen wiping your face often in hopes it'll get rid of that death like appearance you have

"They're fine but Michael won't be, when my precious darling wakes up I'll make sure they know I'll make everything better."

When you bad your cure he started crying and laughing, telling everyone he was right

Clinged to you and let you sleep

Beezlebub:

He found the parcel almost immediately

And went into a rage - we all know how his hunger tantrums are

Would've destroyed the whole house if he wasn't restrained

Guilt

So much guilt, his shoulders are always sagging

Sits by your unconscious body so he feels like he's protecting you

Has tried kissing you awake

Hoping you'll wake up like a fairy tale Character and everything will be fine

"I'm going to kill Michael and I won't let any of you stop me....protect (Y/N) For me."

Was so happy and relieved when you got the cure, sticking to your side at all times even when you were awake

Belphegor:

He was quick to help you into bed and on your side

When he found the parcel he was ready to murder

His rage towards Michael massively outweighed his hatred for humanity - even Lucifer!

Beel couldn't keep control of him mostnofnthe time unless he got forceful, belphegor stuck in a headlock screeching bloody murder

Stress sleeping

Like many of the brothers he develops two modes: calm or PLANNING MASS MURDER

Whenever he gets overwhelmed he just forces body to shut down and sleep besides you

"Michael will face me again, I won't let him kill anyone else that I love! He got Lilith killed and he can't do the same for (Y/N)!"

As soon as the cure was found he was by your side

Letting you rest and watched over you

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

Found out through the brothers

Sees this as an act of war against the peace he's working for

He was normally sweet and forgiving but it seemed Michael wanted to rip to his last nerve

Demanded for every reliable demon to search for a cure

Even had Solomon try to make one

"Barbatos, what is the possibility of Michael coming down to the devildom or the human realm? I want 'discuss' with him what his actions have caused."

As soon he he found out you were alive and safe

He didn't stop his plans but let himself have time with you

Barbatos:

So much guilt

Like holy shit

Is just constantly questioning how he didn't prevent this

Asked permission from the lord to just change the timelines so this didn't happen but the brothers were against it

They demanded they didn't avoid this situation and let Michael face punishment

That he couldn't refuse, he was angered by the angel's actions

More than he would ever show

"humans are so fragile and their time is so limited - that's why I'm never going to let anyone cut theirs short again."

Was part of the cure search party, he led the group

Once you were cured he stayed with you

Acting as your butler and made to check each of your foods and drinks

Solomon:

It wasn't a wise decision to piss off a wizard with stupid amount of pacts

To think an angel would do such a thing

But whilst Everyone lost their temper and searched for a cure

He was wondering - why did it happen

He was ordered asked to make you a cure

He was able to do it but the real cure was also found - giving you extra cure wasn't going to harm you

But he did plan to harm Michael

"you'd think he was smarter than this, he didn't even hide he was the one who did it but all it does is make my job easier."

nursed you until you woke up

Making sure you had mini cures to completely magic it out of your system

Simeon:

When he found out he was stunned

Betrayal - that's all he felt

How could Michael do such a thing?

But he knew Michael was a cruel angel, many having to drink Eden's tea as punishment

It burned their insides and had any poor soul sobbing for mercy after a gulp

"Michael you fool, you can get away with things in your league but you've involved the three realms into this....I pray you do not make your demise harder for yourself."

Was apart of the cure search party

Soothed you when you finally woke up, telling you it'll be okay

Let you rest as much as you wanted

Luke:

They tried to hide it from him but he kept demanding to see you

He wanted to know why everyone was acting strange

When he finally found out he was broken

His mentor

His idol

His everything

The person who always went for permission and knowledge

He thought so highly of him but he's hurt you

He's done more than that! He's tried to kill you!

He's been sobbing for days and locked himself away, he couldn't bare to see you after his once visit

He believed you were dead and they were just keeping your body

"Michael....why....why would you do this.... I thought you loved your brother's....I thought you were kind..!"

When he found out there was a cure he begged to help but they wouldn't let him

He only got to see you when you woke up and he was hugging you, crying

+ bonus Character↓

Michael:

The angel knew they'd be upset

But 9 demons wanting his blood? One wizard ready to cause mayhem and even his own kind wanting his downfall?

That he didn't expect

In his blind jealousy he didn't expect they'd all care for you this much

Thinking apart of them would be relieved you weren't there

But no

"You were my brother's before you were their partner, I'm simply doing what is right! It was their time to meet him and finally stop controlling all of you! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO LOVE ME! I'M YOUR FAMILY! WHY ARE THEY MORE IMPORTANT?!"

He got his answer

His wings torn to shreds, chunks of flesh bitten off him and slashes all over his body

He was left in human world bleeding and barely recognisable

They didn't hold back

He dread to think what the rest of them would do when they find him

[iguessilovebakugou]

Kill the Lights and Kiss My Eyes ||  Domestic!Bakugou x Wife!Reader [ +18 ]

I’ll be honest, I’m still so confused what HOH!* is, but...fuck, I know what domestic smut is.  I guess it’s finally time I take the fucking plunge, baby. 

Congrats Anon - this is my first smut drabble. I hope you're happy.

CW:  NSFW, Oral, Cunnilingus, Rough Kinks:  Lip biting, body worship, powerplays, Bakugou on his knees, Rougher Sex Word Count: 2.8K Pairings:  Pro!Bakugou x F!Reader

“So moving forward, I really think we should start having the clients be aware of the changes before they even get to that portion of the contract.”

“I agree.  I think that way, we’ll have ample time to inform them of the changes to how we handle their business.”

“Nng, Katsuki what the fuck?”

“Do you think we should create a contract specifically for this change?  I think that might be best, that way they can’t say they never heard about it.”

“P-Please, I...I’m in a-”

“That’s probably a good idea.  Mrs. Bakugou - what do you think?  Is that something you could do?”

He had been a terror the second he got home...and he had only been home for all of 2 minutes.  

He had been gone on some sort of mission for an entire month.  The first week was fine, the second wasn’t so bad.  The third?  The third was torture.  He would never say it, never admit it out loud, but he missed you.  It was subtle ways - to mask the fact that you were all he could think about those past two days.  Letting you know what time he would be arriving, complaining the whole ordeal was taking to long, and in the moments where he could - calling you and just letting the silence hang around you.  Getting as close to you as he humanly possibly could.

The moment you heard that door open, you knew Katsuki would be...unruly, but this was...okay, it wasn’t entirely unexpected.  

“I think her connection went down again.”

It happened a lot actually.

His nails drug down the skin of your thighs, leaving bright and angry pink marks until they his hands gripped your pelvis.  With a yelp, you were tugged further down into your office chair - which was already pretty damp with his affections.  You were left a groveling, mewling mess as he continued his attack.  The knew position gave him ample room to lavish your clit with more attention, running the tip of his tongue over and around it in circles before diving back inside you.  You tried to get a word out edge wise, but the moment his tongue slid against your walls, you were done. 

“Fuck...fuck, babe.”  A shiver shot up your spine as his tongue pushed further inside you.  It reached as far as it could go, lapping at the very core of you.  Each movement drew out the most desperate of cries.  He had only just begun and already you were quickly dissolving into a pile of rather pathetic whimpers as you curled around him.  "Please, I...I’m...”

“Mrs. Bakugou, can you hear us?”

If you didn’t respond, they would grow suspicious.  You could get in trouble, you would have to try and explain why your connection only every had a problem on the days your husband got home.  You reached, desperately for the spacebar on your desktop, trying to let them know you were in fact still there.  

But Katsuki’s hand shot out, quickly abandoning your thigh and snatching your wrist.  He didn’t pull away from you, refusing to slide his tongue out from inside you.  You looked down at him, through lidded eyes.  Another moan, fingers gripping the arms of your work chair when you felt the growl in his throat, felt the words he was trying to say against your lips.  They sent shockwaves up to the top of your skull and curling your toes.  You looked down at him through lidded eyes, desperate for some semblance of reprieve.

Don’t answer it.

“...ah.”

Fuck Katsuki Bakugou.  Fuck the fact he knew just how to touch you, to melt your will just enough to mold you into whatever shape he desired.  If he wanted to touch you, wanted to drive you over the edge at this very moment, who were you to deny him that?  Without another moment’s hesitation, you reached over your chair and grabbed the cord connecting your computer to the outlet.  With a grunt, you yanked, tugging the plug out of the wall and sending it scattering to the wooden floor with a Thud!

The voices from your meeting stopped and the screen behind you went dark.  The only thing keeping your office lit was the sun, which was already starting to nestle behind the trees of your backyard.  Katsuki paused, only a moment to watch what you were doing.  His expression, while cautious, seemed...surprised.  His eyes glowed in the light, his panting now more pronounced that the voices of your superiors weren’t droning on above it.  

You swallowed, harshly.  Your mouth was dry and your tongue felt like cotton.  It was still hard to breathe, still hard to think - no hope for any sort of long winded sentences.  But he had stopped, watching you now, and waiting - for you.  He had been so terribly awful, but you could see the patience nestled in his face.  He wasn’t going to make a move until you spoke.  

Your voice was low, deep in your chest as your fingers found their way into his wild, blond hair.

“If you’re gonna fuck me - then fuck me. ”

It wasn’t a just an invitation - it was something that he loved almost as much as you:  a challenge.  His eyes turned more wild and with another guttural noise, his lips curled up into a smile.  

“You’re gonna regret asking.”

If you had any doubt left in your mind that he was telling the truth, it was swiftly quelled.  Katsuki shut his eyes and pushed back against you.  Your chair - propelled by the sheer force of him - went crashing back against the wall.  The action yanked a gasp from you as his tongue was forced further inside you, reaching a new depth you hadn’t expected.  And then it was gone.  Still, his mouth refused to leave you, his lips now wrapped around your clit.  You felt empty, only for a moment - until two of his calloused fingers slide in deep and curled, rubbing your warmth quick and tight.  

You cried out, wrapping your legs around his shoulders to draw him closer.  To keep him right where the two of you wanted him to be.  No longer inhibited by some meetings about contracts that didn’t matter, you let your cries be heard.  You threw your head back against the window, resting it there while and moaned to your hearts content.  Your neighbors would hear surely, but let them.  It shouldn’t be a secret that your husband knew how to unravel you, that the man you loved had memorized every tiny spot that turned you into a puddle at his touch. 

Katsuki’s eyes never left your face.  You could feel him watching you.  And when his fingers curled up further, tugging at your core - fireworks erupted.  It wasn’t enough to send you over the edge, not just yet, but it was enough to draw your back up straight.  Your fingers tightened around his hair, your legs wrapped tighter around him.  “Keep...that...again...please.”

You could feel him chuckle against you.  The whine came from you, even before he drew his fingers back.  His tongue was drawn over the top of you.  In another breath, his lips wrapped around your clit.  And he started there again.

In moments like this, Katsuki never played fair.  You were certain half of what he did was to torture you, while the other half was because he liked watching you squirm and wiggle under his touch.  He would never say it out loud but you knew he adored seeing you like this, knowing full well no one else in the world got to see you such a begging, needy mess.  It was his little secret to keep.  And he was so very good at keeping secrets.

He deserved to be rewarded for it.

He didn’t expect you to reach out.  He didn’t expect your fingers to trail under his jaw bone, to pull him up and away from you.  For a moment, he snarled, not wanting to budge from his position.  But then he felt the urgency and, albeit begrudgingly, he lifted his head.  His eyebrow was cocked, his eyes narrowed and his glistening lips curled into a sneer.  “What?”

You gripped him by the fabric of his shirt, tugging forward and up to meet you.  The steadfast resolution to bring you to climax quickly faded as you pressed your lips to his.  A chaste kiss at first, soft and sweet.  One more, drawing him into you...

Your teeth found his bottom lip, gripping it and tugging it back, nipping hard enough to break the skin and draw a drop of blood against your tongue.  You smirked at the sharp intake of his breath, the way his body tensed at the action.  For as much as he knew how to unravel you, you equally knew the little notions that could ruin him.  The right places to touch him to make his knees buckle, to make him chase you for more.  And - like clockwork - the moment your fingers slid down his abdomen to run over the rise of him, Katsuki’s entire being shivered, his body leaned into your touch.  

You had been with him long enough to know when the façade was crumbling to the ground.  You could feel him twitch under you touch, feel the pulse of his desire.  His hands against your thighs gripped you just a bit tighter, his skin grew a bit hotter, his kiss was just a bit deeper.  

The groan you had elicited from Katsuki’s chest was intoxicating.  You could feel the rumble underneath your skin, crawling up your veins and fogging your thoughts.  The existence of you was his drug, just as he was to you. 

You took advantage of his parted lips, sliding your tongue against his.  He reciprocated in his own way, immediately fighting for dominance.  The chair slammed back against the wall, but this time you were prepared and so was he.  You slipped effortlessly out of your chair and into his lap.  His hands, calloused and rough, gripped your ass to pull you tight against him.  He grinded up against you in abandon, grunting softly against your lips.  His hands on your ass squeezed, making sure to hold you taut against him as he desperately rutted against you.  

The waiting was turning into madness - and judging by how quickly his hand reached for the hem of his pants - he readily agreed.  It was difficult for him, fumbling with the buckle and edging the fabric down over his hips.  You almost laughed, and would have if his mouth hadn’t captured yours before anything more than a gasp could escape.  

And then you felt it: the head of him, dripping with want, press against your entrance.  One final time, you felt his eyes on you.  Behind his grunting and growling, behind his shaking fingers, he was asking.  Making sure this was okay.  If you were alright with this.  

In response, you pressed down against him.  “Please,” You begged, just a whisper in his ear.  You felt him quake beneath you.  “Fuck me, Katsuki.”

He drove up into you and the force of his weight inside of you - although familiar - always drew a cry.  Katsuki paused, only for a moment, each breath he took shaking.  In that moment, there was nothing but the weight of him inside you - every glorious inch of him.  The world was empty - save for the two of you in that office.  You opened your eyes, taking him in.  The wild blonde hair, the rough skin dotted with sweat, the way his shoulders rose and fell as he tried to contain himself.  As he tried to keep himself steady and not rut into you like an animal.

He wanted to make sure this lasted as long as possible.  There was no telling when he would be dragged away from you again. 

Your fingers ran through his hair, gently holding it to tug his face out from where it was buried in the nape of your neck.  Gently, you peppered kisses over his face - across his forehead, over his eyes, on the tip of his nose.  There was a moment his hips bucked, to try and reestablish who was in control...but it faltered quickly.  He soaked in every ounce of affection, relished every gentle touch you bestowed upon him. 

His voice, so quiet and ragged when he finally spoke, was not a surprise.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

You huffed, your lips against his temple, dragging against his skin.  “Then ruin me.”

He was up in a flash.  A moment later, your back was against the desk as his mouth resumed its assault on yours.  It was smart - seeing as you cried out in absolute ecstasy when he began to pound into you.  

As promised - Katsuki was most certainly trying to ruin you.  Your hands scrambled, your fingers wrapped around his arms, gripping him as he began to pound into you.  There was no hesitation - each thrust was deliberate, their soul purpose to drag each and every lewd noise from you that they could.  And they did.  While he refused to pull his mouth from yours, that didn’t stop you from moaning, gasping and mewling every time his cock buried itself inside you.

The sound of his hips hitting your ass with such force was almost enough to drown out the sound of the desk skirting across the floor.  You paid no mind as the pictures lining it’s edge went clattering to the floor and shattering upon impact.  You paid no mind as your phone - buzzing away on the other side - sliding off the desk as well.  You tried to keep your mind straight, to try and stay grounded.  But you couldn’t - Katsuki was too much.

His thrusts grew faster, less timed, erratic as he drew closer and closer to his breaking point.  You finally opened your eyes, looking up to see him staring down at you.  The smirk on his face was a perfect blend of frustrating and heart pounding.  You greeted it with your own smile.  “F-...fuck, babe...”

“Beg for it.”

You grunted when his hands joined in, slamming you down against his thrusts.  You gritted your teeth, swearing again.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” You gasped when he did it again...and again...and again.  

“Beg. For. It.”

Each word was accentuated with a thrust.  Each thrust was accentuated with a cry of pleasure.  God he knew he was going to get his way.  He knew that no matter what, you wanted the same thing as he did.  He was just going to torture you until he heard you admit it out loud.  

Just for him.  Only for him.

“I...I want you to...Fuck, Katsuki!”

“What do you- ah...”  His hips refused to slow as he let out a grunt.  He lowered his body down, pressing his chest against yours and trapping you between him and the desk.  His lips found their way to your ear, his voice low - barely above a growl.  “What do you want me to do?”

He knew what you wanted him to do.  “I...I want you to...”

Your arms wrapped around his neck, your face burying itself against his shoulder.  Your mind was staring to go blank as you dissolved into a mess of curses and moans.  But he wasn’t going to stop until you answered him.

“Cum...I want you to...cum...”  

“Where?”

“Fucking damn it, Katsuki!”

“Where?”

The heat inside you was unbearable now.  The pleasure was forcing all logical thought out the window.

“I...just...”

You weren’t going to last much longer at this rate.

“please...”

And judging by the absolute bliss in his eye, he wasn’t going to hold out much longer either.  

“I-Inside!  Cum inside me!!”

You allowed the pleasure to crash over you - the pent up frustration from Katsuki being gone for so long, the undeniable desire for him to touch you, to fuck you, to love you like only he could.  With a final cry of his name and the arch of your back, it all went white.  

You felt his arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he rode you through it.  You’re still gasping for breath, the fog he lost you in starting to clear, when you realize his teeth are against you neck, muffling the .  You can feel him erupting inside of you, grunting as he fills you.  

The two of you are panting, sweating messes; your office is in an even worse state.  You’re a tangled mess of limbs, of gentle touches and dragging nails and...

“Fuck...”  He breathes, letting out another breath.  He doesn’t speak again until he’s lifted you up off the desk, weakly lowering the both of you down onto the floor.  You kiss him once more before he slips out of you, which he happily reciprocates.  He pulls back, looking down at you, his crimson eyes flashing.

“I fucking missed you.”

So...first smut....I hope you liked it - cause like...fuck bro...

I drank tea and burned through 3 different candles trying to write this and I’m still not like...super okay with it.

Send me more smut asks - I need to get used to writing it. 

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Belphegor with a s/o who is best friends with Lucifer.

Everything's Gonna Be Okay (Belphegor x GN!Reader ft. Lucifer) ANGST -> FLUFF

Word Count : 2.2K Warnings : Spoilers to lesson 16; Mention of death;

“Where were you?” His voice cut through the pitch black of the room, sharper than a knife, accusatory and angry as he always was whenever you were with Lucifer. He knew exactly where you were, his question was more so to ask what you were doing without seeming like he actually cared. You had explained to Belphie before that he had no reason to worry, but at this point you figured that he wasn’t worried about anything, he was upset with you for still being friends, let alone best friends, with Lucifer after everything the guy had done. You walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge and preparing yourself to give him the same explanation that you had given him so many times, it was like being on constant repeat. “I was helping him file his papers, I just lost track of time.” You turned your head, trying to make out the shape of him on the bed. He was turned away from you, but you could tell that his entire body was stiff, like he was on edge. “You know, he’s just as much my friend as everyone else in the house.” He rolled over finally, growling quietly. You knew now that you shouldn’t have said it, but you couldn’t take it back now. “Oh yeah, that’s great, Y/N. I’m sure you’ve all just forgotten completely that he locked me up here and lied to my brothers about everything to cover his own ass. He’s a great friend to have.” He pulled the blankets from your side of the bed and wrapped them around himself, deciding to be petty and immature instead of just listening to you. It wasn’t unlike him, but it was so agitating. “He did it to keep me safe from you!” You snapped at him, and you were trying really hard not to bring up the sore subject of what he had done to you, but he just refused to listen to anything that you had to say. He scoffed, turning his back to you once more and you should have bit your tongue, but it was so hard to do when he was acting this way. “I’m sure you’ve just forgotten the fact that you killed me, and then tried to do it again, you know, the reason you were locked in the attic in the first place.” You heard his teeth snap together, the deep growl that was building in his throat and his heavy nose breathing. He was trying to keep himself calm, keep himself from absolutely losing it at your mention of his previous mistakes. “That’s right. I’m awful, I’m the absolute worst, because Lucifer hasn’t tried to kill you before either. None of my other brothers have ever tried to kill you, it was just me.” His laugh was humorless, and you could feel the bed practically vibrating beneath you, he was shaking so much. He was beyond angry, he was livid, and you weren’t sure if you could backpedal your way out of this one. “I never said that! Lucifer isn’t getting mad at me for being with you though!” You huffed loudly, crossing your arms in front of your chest. For once there was nothing but silence from his side of the bed though, and you actually thought that you had potentially gotten through to him. The evident sounds of his agitation were gone, and it almost seemed like he had stopped breathing for a second, he was so still. That’s when he shot up straight in bed, kicking the blankets off and pushing himself off the bed. “I can’t believe you just fucking said that.” Now he just sounded exhausted as he walked over to the door, shaking his head as he grabbed his cardigan off the bed post. “Lucifer would have no right to get mad at you for being with me because HE’S not your fucking boyfriend, Y/N… I don’t even know if I am at this point.” You watched him as he walked out, his words hung in the air and you couldn’t think of anything to say, you didn’t know how to respond. Not that you had time to anyway, he was already out of the attic, slamming the door behind him as he walked down the stairs, most likely going to his and Beels room to sleep. Maybe that’s what you both needed, to just sleep it off and hopefully you’d both be able to talk things over in the morning.

Morning came, and for a second you thought that everything that had happened last night was just a really bad dream. That is, until you turned to the side and saw Belphies' side of the bed was empty. He had essentially broken up with you last night before he walked out and you had never felt more heart broken than you were right now. You needed to talk to him, but you were sure that he didn’t want to talk to you at all right now, but you needed to talk to someone. There was nowhere else that you could think of going right now, and there was only one person that you knew would be up this early. It would be a problem, especially if Belphie knew that you went there to talk about his and your relationship issues, but Lucifer was your best friend, and you needed some sort of guidance. You knocked lightly on his office door, waiting for him to call out to you to come in, but this time he actually opened the door for you, smiling softly when he saw you standing there. “Y/N… You’re up early.” He stepped to the side to let you in and you went straight for the armchairs, letting yourself drop into one, your head falling against the back as a loud groan escaped you. “Rough night I assume?” He followed you over, sitting in the chair beside yours and folding his hands on his lap. “I think Belphie broke up with me…” You whispered, not even wanting to say it out loud. The words didn’t sound right, they didn’t feel right leaving your lips. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you, and he seemed just as shocked by it as you had been. “He doesn’t like me spending time with you… and I know he hates you, but… You’re my friend. You’ve been my friend way longer than he’s been my boyfriend… I don’t want to hurt either of you though.” It was emotionally tolling, emotionally draining for you to even think about, let alone talk about. You didn’t want to have to choose between the two of them, and you shouldn’t have to. Lucifer reached out to pat the top of your hand, giving you that same soft smile that he had at his office door. You didn’t know how he could possibly reassure you right now, but you knew that he was about to try. “Y/N, you don’t have to hurt either of us, and you don’t have to choose. I’m still going to be your friend, no matter what. If Belphegor doesn’t like it, that’s his choice. You’ve done nothing wrong, but it would be wise to talk to him about this, and try not to let your emotions get the best of you.” Your emotions… they had gotten the best of you last night, and you had said something without even thinking, and that’s why he stormed out. You had to stay in control, even if Belphie couldn’t.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked quickly on the door to Belphie and Beels room, Lucifer’s words replaying in your head. You needed to talk to him about this, but as seconds ticked by and your heart raced, you wanted nothing more than to turn around and run into your room. You didn’t know how you’d be able to look at him, let alone talk to him without getting upset. It would be so easy to just go to your room and lock the door, and just as that idea was starting to sound like a better plan than anything else, the door swung open. “Hey, Y/N. Belphie’s still sleeping… He was up for a while last night tossing and turning… I even think he was crying. He didn’t want to talk about it though… Do you know what happened?” Beel was smiling at you just as he always did, but you worried that if you told him what had happened, the reason for his twin brother's lack of sleep, he would be upset with you. There was no use in lying to him or acting unsure though, you were sure that Belphie would tell him about it at some point anyway. “We got into an argument last night… I just really need to talk to him.” He hummed thoughtfully before nodding his head, stepping out of the room and watching you walk in. “Thank you…” For not asking any further questions, for not trying to poke at yours and Belphie’s relationship. If you didn’t tell him right away, he wouldn’t ask, and that’s the thing that you really liked about Beel. He was quiet, and he respects people's privacy. He gave you a quick nod before pulling the door shut, leaving you alone in the room with Belphie. Everything sounded so loud, even your breaths seemed to echo off the walls of the room, like everything was in acoustic. Your steps over to the bed sounded more like you were stomping even though you were being as quiet as you possibly could, not wanting to wake Belphie up. He would just be even more angry if you not only made him lose sleep last night, but also woke him up once he was finally able to get some shut eye. “I wasn’t crying, by the way. My nose was just stuffed up.” You stopped where you were, looking over to see Belphie sitting up in his bed. “Why are you here anyway?” He was going to be like that right off the bat, but you needed to stay calm, keep your composure. Things would be easy if at least one of you kept your cool, although it would be even easier if you both talked this through like grown adults. “I need to talk to you… You said last night… That you didn’t know if you were my-... What did you mean?” At this point you were standing in the middle of the room, awkwardly twirling your fingers as you looked at him. He sighed quietly, shaking his head as he looked up at you. “I was just mad. You know I didn’t mean that.” He watched your face closely, the way you bit your lip and shuffled your feet. “You do know I didn’t mean that, right?” His eyes softened and in a blink of an eye he was out of the bed, wrapping his arms around you so tight that it seemed like he wasn’t going to let go. “I’d never leave you over something like that, I just… I got mad, and I said something I didn’t mean to say.” He pushed you back just enough to kiss your forehead before looking down at you, his eyes holding your own. “I know… I know you wouldn’t…” You were holding onto the sides of his cardigan tightly, trying to think of how to tell him how you felt and what you were going to do without pissing him off again. “I love you, Belphie… I love being with you… But I’m not going to give up my friendship with Lucifer. I know you hate him, but-” He kissed you quickly, as if he was trying to quiet you before you went too far, and maybe it was the best thing for both of you. At least with his lips against yours you were sure of two things, and those were that you wouldn’t say anything to piss him off, and that he still was in a good enough mood to kiss you, and those were both very good things. The kiss lasted until the both of you were out of breath, both of your chests rising and falling quickly as you stared at each other. His cheeks were lightly flushed as he took a step back, chuckling

softly. “I’m not asking you to give up your… friendship with him.” He bit his lip a little, like the next part was hard for him to even try to say, and you began to mentally prepare yourself for whatever it was he would say next, fearing that it would be something you didn’t want to hear. “All I want is for you to not stay with him so late… I… I like falling asleep next to you at night.” His cheeks turned a brighter shade of red and he quickly pushed your face back into his chest, hoping that you didn’t notice it. Being held by him made everything that happened the night before seem like a nightmare and you were finally waking up from it. Lucifer was your best friend and nothing was going to change that, just like nothing was going to change the fact that Belphie was your boyfriend, and you loved him. As long as you got to end your nights in his arms and wake up to see his face everything would be alright.

[drxwsyni]

doubts and desires︱albedo x f!reader

summary: letting go of the past is hard, but losing what you have now would be harder. leaving albedo is neither something you can do, or something you really want, it’s simply taken you a while to understand that. word count: 2k warnings: implied dubcon, stockholm syndrome, past kidnapping

Even with how Albedo had bundled you up in a hat, scarf, gloves, and coat―it still failed to ward off the chill that seemingly sucked the warmth right from your body. Yet you said nothing about it, the unwanted attention it would draw from him inevitable if you made your discomfort known. And, you were almost certain he would drag you back to the cabin if he knew how the cold was treating you.

You didn’t enjoy the biting temperatures, but you didn’t want leave. Not when it’s been so long since you descended the mountain, that you barely even remember the feeling of snowfall against your skin.

The whole situation he’s placed you in is really quite foreign―confusing.

In how he’s letting you accompany him in his research, not far from his―your home. A safe distance, so to speak. Or that’s what he said, at least.

You realized that the way he spoke of this outing, how it’d just be the two of you, and that you wouldn’t venture very far; they were words of comfort. Not said to reassure himself that things would go smoothly, but to calm the look of trepidation in your eyes from the mere suggestion of going outside.

Now, seeing Albedo’s nonchalant demeanour while he studies the petrification of a fallen tree, it puts your mind at ease. Sure, if you look closely you’ll be able to see the way his eyes flicker to your form every few seconds or so, making sure you were right where he left you, but generally the alchemist is calm.

It makes you calm, for a moment it feels like you’re able to settle down and appreciate the intricate beauty of the snow swept mountain you stand upon. Best to do so now, knowing it wouldn’t be long until he would lead you home, sheltered safely away from the danger of the mountain’s climate.

“Oh―I didn’t know you were to be researching today, Albedo sir.”

With your back turned to the newly appeared stranger behind you, the cold that had seeped into your bones no longer posed as the only thing holding you in place―it was also now an icy fear.

You watched unmoving from your spot as Albedo gave pause, a hint of contemplation flashing across his face before standing.

“Timaeus. I thought you were studying back in the city.”

The man, who you had yet to properly address, responded with a somewhat nervous laugh.

“Yes, well I was, but it led me to do my own research out in the field…”

Always in a strangely graceful manner, Albedo dusted off his pants and straightened his jacket. A look of unashamed disinterest painted his expression as Timaeus rambled on about his findings.

Truly, you don’t recall Albedo ever showing such emotions with you―a detail not necessarily heartwarming, but still reassuring in an indescribable way.

Perhaps it was due to you being so sure that he’d rid himself of you when you no longer proved useful. Which made the swirling of affection and enamour in his eyes when he gazed upon you settle your nerves, even in just the slightest.

“...which I unfortunately have yet to procure. But―ah, I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. My apologies, how is your research coming along. And...who might you be?”  

If Albedo recognized the look of severe anxiety flashing across your face, he paid no mind. Instead giving you a small, somewhat warm smile. As if to say, “Go ahead.”

The few seconds that passed were done in silence, you desperately trying to read Albedo’s face for ulterior motives, and the man behind you shuffling awkwardly in place while he waited for a response.

By some miracle, your body moved on autopilot, turning around to finally acknowledge the cause of your newfound distress. Only, you couldn’t even look him in the face.

Your mouth was dry, mind foggy and unable to think of a response that was anywhere near being coherent.

“...I―uh…”

“This is my new assistant. Please do forgive her, she’s quite shy.”

A shaky breath escaped your rigid body at the sound of Albedo’s voice, and the feeling of his hand resting gently upon the small of your back.

The blatant lie that only you and him recognized echoed inside your head.

Timaeus had no clue who you were, or what you meant to Albedo. But if he did know, you wondered what he would do.

“...Ah, it’s strange we’ve never met before.”

You could tell without looking that Timaeus was studying your form. With the way his tone shifted to something a little more unsettled, a pit grew in your stomach knowing how he had picked up on your questionable nervousness.

The hand resting on your back felt a little more heavy.

Albedo showed no signs of botherment, “That’s likely because she’s not from here.”

For some ungodly reason, the less experienced alchemist took this as an opportunity. “Oh, if that’s the case then we should show her around. Sucrose could use someone like herself to―”

“Actually, we were just leaving. I’m afraid I’ve kept her out in the cold too long, and descending the mountain any further is quite a reckless task in this weather―” His head turned to look at you, no longer addressing his student, “―right?”

If Timaeus was told of what his teacher had done to you, would he help? Even if he looks up to Albedo, even if everyone does, surely they would step in.

Only, the issue remained that first you’d have to prove to them you were in danger.

...And really, you weren’t. Not anymore.

The tender bruises around your wrists and ankles had healed long ago. Your health was in near perfect condition, what with how Albedo saw to it that you never did anything to put it at risk. A single and quick glance would show that you were so pristinely taken care of, complexion shining now that you no longer spent nights sleepless from fear.

What were you to even say?

Moreso, it remained true that you didn’t quite want to say anything.

Timaeus wouldn’t believe your truth, and Albedo would likely spin the scenario so that your words weren’t reliable anyways.

It dawned on you that Albedo knew this fact well, why else would he bring you with him if he wouldn’t still be entirely in control of the situation?

A simple movement, his hand drifted to your hip and gripped it firmly, urging.

Your voice, barely a whisper met his ears.

“...Of course…”

That was all he needed, sending an impatient, yet still neutral glance towards Timaeus, the smallest hint of self-satisfaction lingering in it.

His student took the hint.

_____

“I have to say, bringing you with me was quite...productive.”

After dinner, Albedo has you keep him company in his study. You, occupied with a book in a chair across from his desk, while he goes over his findings from the day’s outing.

“Research wise, I was able to study you in a foreign situation.” He continued, conversation one-sided, “The results were to my liking…”

Although construed in his ever sophisticated manner, his words told you that you did something right. He was proud, and that notion made the swell of a strange warmth in your heart grow.

The alchemist’s gaze remained downcasted at the papers strewn about in front of him while he spoke. “...I suppose you should be rewarded for such good behaviour.”

Your eyes flitted up, the story on your lap abandoned completely.

Albedo has never spoken of such a thing, not once entertaining the idea of rewards when he saw no reason to ever extend such gratitude. Even after all this time.

He must be especially pleased, you thought.

Perhaps, enough to grant you back even a small semblance of independence...that would most certainly be your wish.

You’d long grown used to his suffocating personality, the intense interest he paid you often resulting in little to no alone time. Albedo made sure you stayed in eyeshot, and in those inevitable times he needed to leave, he made them quick, and you were to be safely tucked away in the bedroom, door locked from the outside. There wasn’t a single detail he missed, no stone left unturned when trying to improve your security.

Unfortunately for you, it left little autonomy.

Just the smallest taste of self-reliance would be fine. You’d love to cook a nice meal, like the ones you used to make. Or perhaps to pick your own outfit one morning, something more your style than the things he put together for you. Any break from his constant guidance, no matter what shape or form, you’d gladly take―

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up then, I’ll meet you upstairs soon.”

Albedo neglected to look up as he spoke, and so he missed how the glimmer of anticipation in your eyes faded away. The way your shoulders dropped slightly, the look of disappointment flashing across your features in understanding of his words.

What he had planned, it was a reward...of sorts.

An excuse, as far as you saw it.

Albedo was known for testing the limits of living beings after all, and in certain ways, such studies extended to how he treats you. It’s a win win for him―he thinks it’s a reward, since he knows he can make you feel good, and doing so just shows him all those little things he can’t learn through idle observation. What makes you squirm or shy away with innocent embarrassment―information just as important as everything else he knows about you.

It doesn’t dissuade Albedo when he finally glances up to see what his offer has done, though the sight does make him feel as though he’s deceived you.

Still, he remains unapologetic. “While you gave me some good insight on how far you’ve...adjusted, I still can’t completely trust you. This merely turned out to be a good opportunity for satisfying your other needs―nothing more.”

Flipping open a nearby textbook, Albedo conveys wordlessly, a difficult habit of his, that the conversation has ended.

You, however, have yet to heed his words. Still seated, the once flickering of hope subsiding with each passing second. Call it grief, but you were sincerely expecting a different outcome. Though, knowing Albedo, and his constant need to grow more knowledgeable, you should’ve seen this coming.

“...I’d rather not have to force your compliance tonight. So, please―” He gestured towards the door with a wave of his hand, focus trained and brows barely knitted while he skims over his readings on the desk.

Honestly speaking, you once thought Albedo was a deeply confusing man. So too was the life he’d meticulously prepared, and swiftly forced you into. Yet, looking back, things may have been more simple than you once perceived.

Your only real job is to exist and comply. And you both know you’re not going anywhere, not going to say no. Especially now, given how effortless it feels to fall into routine, going through the motions of his request and carrying yourself upstairs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s too late for you, what feels like an eternity spent at Albedo’s side having just about rendered your fighting spirit useless. It’s been long since replaced with what you’re coming to know as a certain fondness. You want to see the compassion in his eyes that’s sparked by your willing compliance.

It was a single, tangible goal. Not complex and unobtainable like those tasks of your past life. Attempts at obtaining those desires are futile, when today's events proved you genuinely no longer want them anymore.

It’s much easier to make Albedo proud. You don’t realize that you do it everyday, and that he’s just poor at conveying his own emotions...

Drawing yourself a bath, you wash away past doubts, settling with what your life has turned into.

Distantly, you hear Albedo make his way up the stairs and towards your bedroom. You like knowing what’s to come, which is always something you’ll have with him. You can’t say the same if you leave, and so you finally resolve that you never will.

[youbloodymadgenius]

What Could Have Been (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This piece wasn’t requested;  the idea just popped into my mind and I had to write it. I don’t write smut often - I find it very hard in a foreign language - and I know I’m not very good at it. I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

@geekandbooknerd​ - thank you so much for beta reading this for me ♥️

@pomegranates-and-blood​ - I hope you don't mind that I borrowed the last sentence from you. It fit perfectly 😉

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: When Ivar calls for a healer, he does not expect you, his occasional lover, to enter his tent.

Warning: smut.

Words: 2385

"Go and fetch the healer!" Ivar commands, exploding as the guard outside the tent doesn't react quick enough. "YOU GO NOW OR I SWEAR I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD ON A STICK BEFORE NIGHTFALL!" His roar loud enough to be heard all over the camp, the frightened guard runs away while babbling apologies, his cheeks burning red.

 Sweating and in pain, Ivar enters the tent, heading slowly toward a straw mattress. Grunting, he flops down on the makeshift bed and closes his eyes briefly, trying to keep the agony in his legs at bay. The battle had been harsh on his twisted limbs, leaving him with stiff, aching muscles. 

 "You asked for a healer, Prince Ivar?" Your fresh and youthful voice startles him and he raises his head, furrowing his brow as he looks at you. "I was expecting Una." His dry, annoyed tone doesn't unsettle, nor surprise you. Prince Ivar is not exactly the most easygoing person. And you know he's very secretive when it comes to his pain. He trusts Una, the main healer, who has been taking care of his legs on a daily basis for many years.  

 "I'm sure you were." You just nod, undeterred. "We may have won the battle, Prince Ivar, but the wounded are countless. Una is taking care of Hrafn, whose arm had to be cut off. She's the one who sent me to you. So, sorry if it bothers you, my Prince, but I'm afraid you'll have to do with me. As for myself, rest assured that I know precisely what I must do. " 

The truth is, tending to Ivar's legs is nothing hard, nor complicated. A meadowsweet and nettle infusion to ease the pain, a salve made with a concoction of boiled blackcurrant and ash leaves collected on Midsummer Night to undo the knots in his thighs and calves, that's all you need, and both are in the small leather pouch you wear at your waist at all times. 

In addition, a hot bath of course wouldn't do any harm, but there's no such luxury while fighting a war.  

 Seemingly unconvinced, Ivar scowls and snorts, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he weighs pros and cons, longing for relief but at the same time reluctant because you're not his regular healer. And perhaps also because you're… you.

 Your suspicions are confirmed an instant later, as Ivar wearily rubs his face with a bloody hand. "No other healers were available? Surely there are not just the two of you, right?"

 You shrug, hardly suppressing a grin. He's right, of course. There are many of you here in Wessex, alongside the Great Heathen Army. However, you and Una are the only ones who are not terrified of Ragnar's unpredictable youngest son. Therefore, since Una was busy, you were the only one willing to go and take care of his legs. But telling him that wouldn't be very wise, right? So, you choose another way.

 "My Prince, if I may say so, don't make things harder. I'm already here, and I can tell you're in pain. So, please, let me do what I'm here for." Inhaling deeply, you give him a small smile. "If it's easier for you, let's say that what happened in the past stays in the past. I'm here as a healer, nothing more, I intend to do my job in the most efficient way and I know I can help you."

 Back in Kattegat, when Ivar was still a boy and not yet this bloodthirsty man obsessed with revenge, before Aslaug's and Ragnar's deaths, before all Hel breaks loose, you and he used to fuck from time to time. At first, you agreed to do it because you wanted to help him. Not because you were a healer, but because Hvitserk, your best friend, was worried about his baby brother after his tremendous failure with Margrethe. You taught Ivar how to please a woman and showed him that he was much more whole than he thought. You then kept sleeping with him because sex was great, Ivar a skilled and fast learner. Yet, there was no real bond, no love between the two of you; just some kind of mutual respect, tinged with an undeniable physical attraction. 

 "My Prince?" You ask softly, your hands ghosting over his thighs as you kneel down in front of him. "May I?" Remembering Una's words – this leg is so broken, so twisted, I do not know how the prince can manage walking, but I do know its iron equipment is like a torture device which causes him an unbearable amount of pain – you gesture first toward the metal armor encaging his right leg.

 Ivar barely nods, a long sigh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes shut. You never did it. Back then, you weren't allowed to. But today is different. Ivar is tired, in pain, and you're not his occasional lover, but a healer. There's no hesitation in your movements; your skillful hands undoing the loops of the brace, you're working fast. Soon, you're able to carefully remove the heavy contraption, and then give your full attention to his left leg. 

 When both his legs are free, you stand up, "Can you take off your pants, my Prince?" and step away, rummaging around the room for a water bucket and a cloth. Actually, you want to give him some privacy. You never really saw his legs and are aware it's a huge matter of concern for him. Once again, you remember what Una told you – I usually work under the furs – and add without turning around, "And please, cover your legs with as many furs as you can, we need to keep them warm." 

 ***

 After making sure his legs are well covered, you grab the cloth Ivar used to clean his hands and face, placing it on a nearby table, next to the water bucket. You then put your supplies in your pouch before turning towards the prince. Eyes closed, his head on a fluffy pillow – the perks of being a prince, you can't help but think, slightly jealous – Ivar seems completely relaxed. You're sure he's not sleeping, though, so you clear your throat while turning toward him. "If you don't need me anymore, my Prince, I'll go back to Una." 

 Ivar exhales slowly as his eyelids flutter open. He just looks at you without uttering a word for a long time, looking a little confused, as if he doesn't exactly remember your presence. He then gives you a small smile – his way of thanking you? – but shakes his head no. Something sparkles in his gaze and Ivar licks his bottom lip. You know him well enough to know that's the exact moment when his mood swings. He props himself up on one elbow, reaching out in an attempt to grab your hand, but to no avail. He lets out a frustrated groan, but his voice is soft, and so are his eyes. "Come closer." Yet, you know you don't have a choice. Denying a prince is anything but a wise option; denying Prince Ivar could be life-threatening. 

 Taking two steps forward, you join the bed and place a hand on Ivar's shoulder. "What else can I do for you, my Prince?" 

 Wrapping his arm around your waist, Ivar pulls you toward him, leaving you no choice but to sit next to him. "Kiss me." He breathes, his blue orbs never leaving your eyes. 

 "Your wish is my command." You whisper while leaning forward to close the gap between the two of you. Your lips find his and Ivar immediately takes charge, a hand behind your neck. His tongue invades your mouth while his free hand slips under your dress, his thick fingers finding the bare skin of your thighs. You let out a gasp, surprised, and delighted. 

 This is new. 

 Back in Kattegat, whenever it was just the two of you, Ivar was always this insecure, tentative boy, eager to learn but clearly grateful that you were willing to take the lead. 

 He's no longer the same. War changed him. The boy has grown into a resolute man, who knows what he wants and who doesn't wait to take it. You won't lie: if you found the boy alluring, this – the warlord look, the confidence, the straight-to-the-point thing – is a whole new level of attractiveness. And a major turn-on.

 When Ivar deepens the kiss, fierce and hungry at once, he pulls you closer, your breasts pressed against his chiseled chest, you cannot help but arch your back as a wave of heat spreads in your belly.

 "Ivar…" You moan and he captures the sound in his mouth, delving deeper again while slipping a rough knuckle against your clit. You nearly choke, almost missing his next words. "Scoot closer." He mumbles, his lips against yours and you don't have to think twice about his demand as you are all too happy to surrender. Straddling him, you push him down onto his back and drive your tongue into his ear. The feeling of his solid, muscular torso between your thighs consumes your senses, a blinding heat coursing from between your legs to fill your entire body. You can't wait any longer. You need him. The craving of being filled up is almost unbearable but when you move your hand downward, your fingers grazing his erected cock, he stops you, a wolfish grin on his face. "I want to taste you first." 

 When he runs his hands up the insides of your thighs after you had moved up to sit on his face, you practically die and clamp your legs around his face, shoving your wet pussy into his mouth. Rewarded with a slap on your ass, you gasp in excitement as he slides a knuckle along your lips. It drives you so wild that you can barely breathe, and Ivar keeps going, his mouth just inches from your clit, drawing shapes around your sensitive skin, teasing you, blowing air into you. Heat is slowly building in your core, burning you inside. You curl your toes and contract your lower belly, panting and moaning, and suddenly, Ivar touches your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue. You almost lose it. Your whole body is about to break into a thousand pieces and you struggle, sucking in several short breaths. 

 "Gods…" Eyes closed, you shiver as Ivar picks up a rhythm. He knows exactly what he's doing. Barely moving his skilled tongue, he applies a warm pressure, each tiny move bringing you to the edge. It doesn't take long for your stomach to be drenched in sweat, and as much as you want to make this last forever, your entire body is taken over by a wave of spasms and pleasure and you explode in orgasm, biting your lip to keep from screaming. 

 Ivar doesn't give you time to settle down or to come to your senses, lifting his head, a cocky grin playing on his glistening lips. 

 "Ride me." He commands, his voice hoarse and loud as he pulls the cover off his groin. A wild laugh escapes your lips when you scoot downward, still on top of him, kissing his nipples, then his toned stomach; you find his cock hard under your fingers, your other hand massaging his balls. Without a warning, you plunge him into yourself, gasping as you feel his cock slide deep inside you. Leaning forward until your head is just above his, you kiss him hard before grounding your hips against his. You then pull up, all the way to his tip, constricting the muscles in your lower belly, and then push back down as far as you can. It sends a rippling wave along your inside walls and Ivar moans, his hands grabbing your ass. 

 As you pump your hips up and down, Ivar squirms beneath you, meeting each one of your thrusts, pushing his hips up as you speed up the pace. Back and forth, back and forth… You move your hips faster and faster, a drop of sweat trickling down your back. The rhythm is frantic now and you almost black out as you suddenly climax once again, Ivar groaning loudly while spreading his hot seed inside you. 

 You fall heavily onto him, sated and exhausted. "Gods, that was amazing!" You finally say, and Ivar chuckles, a smirk on his face. "It was, indeed." Wrapping his hand around your waist, he then does something surprisingly sweet, kissing your forehead tenderly. With your head resting on his tattooed chest, you just hum, and since your eyelids are getting heavy, you close them, sated and exhausted.

 You're dozing off as Hvitserk's voice outside the tent, startles you awake. "Y/N, you're still in there?"

 Sitting up in bed, you give Ivar a confused look while stretching out your upper body. "Yes." You want to ask why but Hvitserk doesn't give you the time. "Hurry up then! Una is looking for you."

 Sighing, you give Ivar a quick peck on the cheek and stand up hastily. "You heard your brother; I have to go." You give him one last look and are about to get out of the tent when his voice stops you. "Wait, Y/N."

 You turn around, and to your surprise, there's no longer a bloodthirsty warlord in front of you, but a boy, shy and insecure, who bites his bottom lip and lowers his gaze. The new Ivar turns you on, there's no denying it, but this one, the timid one, is absolutely adorable, and your heart flutters. You flash him a reassuring smile. Ivar inhales deeply, blinking a few times. "Will you…" He starts but stops immediately. 

 You raise a brow questioningly, but the moment is gone, his face now expressionless. Ivar just nods at you, his gaze steady as he gestures to his legs. "Thank you."

 You're sure that's not what he was going to tell you; that's not what you could read in his eyes. Will you come back later?

 Stifling a sigh, you straighten your dress as best you can. Sadly, there's nothing you can do. "You're welcome, my Prince." You say softly; and with that, you walk away, your mind filled with regret.

 You would have said yes.

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys​ @gearhead66​ @inforapound​ @readsalot73​ @milkkygirls​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @shannygoatgruff​ @zuxiezendler​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @hecohansen31​ @lonewolf471​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @fuckindiva​ @tgrrose​ @didiintheblog​ @peachyboneless​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @ethereallysimple​ @destynelseclipsa​ @coco2315​ @mlchael-guerin​

[implexedactions]

My Little Ember - Enji Todoroki

Platonic!Yandere!Enji Todoroki

A/N: Okay, I’m late. I missed a lot of due dates. This isn’t even beta read. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. But here it is anyway!

This is Yandere content, and as such, one should be cautious of viewing this if you have certain triggers.

“Wake up, my little ember~ Did you have a good rest?”

 You blink your eyes open and look around. You are in “your” bedroom, a cruelly comforting place. A room in Enji’s giant mansion, covered in pastels and various kid-friendly entertainment. The nicest cage money could buy. 

 Enji’s hand rests on your shoulder. A warm presence on this otherwise cold day. Your eyes flicker up at the cyan ones looking compassionately down.

 “Uhh, yeah, it was fine, Enji…”

 Enji sighs and rubs his hand against your shoulder. 

 “I told you, kid, call me dad.”

 “But-”

 Enji raises a warm finger to your lips.

 “Come now, enough of that. I’ve let you sleep in long enough; it is already 7:30 am. I have been cooking breakfast in the kitchen for you.”

 You look away dejectedly.

 “I’m not hungry.” 

 “Hush, you need your breakfast if you want to grow big and strong like your old man!” 

 He promptly lifts you out of bed with just one arm, shoving you over his shoulder. You don’t fight back, instead just lying there, looking at the upside-down room. 

 Humming a tune, he carries you out of your bedroom, and into the empty mansion that you both share—pristine white walls and furniture, broken up with the odd child-proofed edge or photo-frame. 

 He abducted you four months ago and ever since seemed to be treating you as his child. Everyone who saw Endeavor knew he probably didn’t have a stellar home life, but this was absurd. 

 He walks down the stairs to the first floor, walking through a massive living room.

 “Enj-uhhh, dad?”

 Enji hummed with delight as he kept walking, you swaying up and down on his shoulder, getting slightly dizzy.

 “Yes, my little ember?”

 “Do you think I-uhh, we, could go outside today?”

 Enji stops in his tracks, his grip on you tightening and warming. Not noticeably, but enough. 

 “...Ember, I am not too sure if that is a wise decision.”

 Of course. It hadn’t worked the other 50 times you asked, why would it work now?! Why was it so hard for you to find ANY time away his watchful eye.

 “What a fucking surprise…”

 “Hey!”

 He pulls your now shaking form off his shoulder. One hand around your waist, one around your head as he brings you in front of him, hovering off the floor. His eyes are thin, a scowl on his face. You feel his hot breath coming from his nostrils. You have never been more scared in your life of this man.

 “Do not use that foul language, Y/N Todoroki. I will not tolerate it. Do not make me discipline you.”

 “I-uhhh, sorry…” you stammer out, avoiding his gaze. 

 His hand moves your head and forces your eyes to meet his disappointed ones.

 “I have raised you better than that, haven’t I? Apologise properly.”

 “Uhhh,,,Sorry, Father, that I, behaved inappropriately…” you say, staring into eyes that only villains are privy to.

 His face warms and he pulls you in for a hug. 

 “Apology accepted!”

 He places you down on the floor, but keeps your hand in a vice-like grip.

 “Now! We can’t leave those pancakes waiting, can we?”

 Enji  pulls you along, almost causing you to fall over a few times to keep up with his faster gait. He walks into the kitchen,and the smell of pancakes fill the air. He places you down on a seat, grabbing a plate and putting some pancakes on it, before serving it to you. You detectedly pick at the pancakes, staring out the window. It’s an overcast and cloudy day, might rain later. Enji seemingly notices this. 

 “Feeling melancholy, oh sorry, I meant, are you feeling sad??” He pries, softly bumping you with his elbow to get you to pay attention to him.

 “You kidna-” You got to interject, but get interrupted. 

 “I have something that might cheer you up! Look at this, my little ember!”

 Enji reaches over to grab the wet batter, he pours a bit into one of his cupped hands, and after putting down the container, presses his other hand over it. After a few seconds, he pulls apart his hand to reveal a potato-shaped pancake with imprints of his hands on it, perfectly cooked. 

 You fail to look impressed, to which Enji sighs. 

 “You will find it more interesting when you have your own quirk, I bet!”

 “...You realise I’m quirkless right?” You’ve been quirkless forever, you weren’t thrilled about it, but you made do, or you did, before this deranged hero kidnapped you.

 “Do not worry, my sweet little cinder. You are just a late bloomer. Your powers will come in soon, I guarantee it! You are a todoroki! It is in your very nature!”

 “But I-”

 “You might even get a fire quirk like your old man! Imagine how much I could impart to you! Are you not excited?!”

 “No, not rea-”

 “You will go to UA of course, but that might be putting the cart before the horse, champ. We should think about primary school before that...”

 Wait, what? Ignoring the fact that he’s trying to enrol you in primary school, this would mean you’d get out of the house, and presumably, to a teacher, who’d figure out you’re not a kid, and are in fact, being held against your will. 

 “I’d love to go to school Dad!” you cry enthuasatically, desperate to get out of the house.

 “Ha! You’re certainly eager!” He saddles up beside you and pulls you into his side, tussling your hair. 

 “Although...School seems a bit dangerous, looking at UA and what happened with sho- maybe instead, we could try a different approach, my little ember.”

 “But I’d really like to meet oth-” You need to force this issue, you can’t let him shut this issue down like this. This is your one chance to get outside the house.

 “Hmmm! How about instead, you use packet learning for general education, and well, we will cross the hero bridge when we get to it. Heh, maybe I could teach you about being a hero and intern you myself if you try to get your hero license! Would that not be fun, your old man teaching you how to be a hero?”

 He presses you into his side more, face pushed against his pecs, preventing you from speaking. It’s meant as a sort of hug, it mainly just hurts quite a bit. 

 “Just know I love you no matter what the outcome is, okay? Powers or no powers. Hero or no hero. You’ll always be my little ember!”

 Despite your flails and protests, Enji carries you to the couch, sitting you down next to the TV. The sun has risen fully, becoming mid-morning. 

 “Alright, kiddo. Want to watch some cartoons? How about that backyard science one? We could try to replicate, er, repeat,  the experiment later?”

 “Could I-er, we, watch that detective movie? I saw an ad for it, it looked interesting?” The issue is gone now, he will only deflect any questions, you’ve tried MANY times to get that to work. Might as well get SOME enjoyment out of this day. 

 “Hmpfh, you saw an advertisment for that movie? I need to monitor what you watch more often, that is much too dark for a young mind like you! Let me put on that science show…” 

 Enji goes to grab the remote, but you slap it out of his hand.

 “Stop this! Stop pretending that I’m your child! Stop trying to coddle me!“

 Enji goes to touch your shoulder, concern plastered over his face, hiding something sinister. 

 “Don’t fucking touch me you creep! Everyone knows you fucked up your first chance at a good family life, and this isn’t a fucking do over, you abusive, coddling, tormentor!” 

 Enji sighs.

 “And I was having such a nice morning too.” 

 Enji’s face grows dark as he stands up from the couch, before turning around and bending down to your level. Fast hands pinning your shoulders to your side, keeping you in place as an intimidating and vilanous look takes over his face. 

 “I will give you 5 seconds to apologise, and just maybe, I, your FATHER, can find it in my heart to lessen the SEVERE punishment you are getting, kid.”

 “1”

 “I’m sorry! Please! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” 

 Enji’s face contorts into a smug smirk as confusion takes over yours.

 “2”

 “W-What? But-I’m sorry! Please listen to me!”

 You thrash useleslly against the hands holding you in place, desperate to try and escape his gaze. Reduced to a whimpering and crying mess as you think of the ‘discipline’ your father will inflict.

 “3”

 “Please! I said I’m sorry! What more do you want from me?!”

 You’re on the edge of hyper ventilating as Enji stares you down. His hands are warming up, grip tightening, only causing your thrashing to become even stronger. Your attempts to break free don’t even budge him an inch.

 “4...Do not make me count to 5...”

 “Please! Enj-Father! I’m sorry! I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll eat those pancakes! I’ll play along! Please, don’t hurt me!”

 Enji’s smug smile and piercing eyes will haunt your dreams.

 “...5. I thought I had raised you better than that, my little cinder. Oh well, time to-”

 Lightning and thunder interrupts the countdown, an ear-splitting crack emanating from outside the sealed house. Enji jumps to cover you, as you yelp, the already anxiety inducing conversation ruining your nerves so much a lightning strike scares you. Immediately, Enji’s menacing demeanor melted away. 

 “Oh, I thought it was a villi- nevermind.”

 Enji looks down at you. Your form is shaking, tears spilling out of your eyes. Looking both catatonic and extremely wound up, as you fail to comprehend your surroundings, simply mumbling to yourself about punishment and forgiveness.

“S-Sorry. Forgive. Forgive m-me.I-I-”

 “Do you see, my little ember? The threat of punishment WAS the punishment.

 His hands pulled you into his broad chest, shushing you and rubbing warming hands up and down your back. You keep on crying, your turbulent emotions entirely out of control, not knowing how to react. You feel like your sanity is so fragile, anything will break it. You simply focus on a spot upon the wall, and nothing else. 

 “It is okay, ember. It is just thunder. I will protect you.”

 “...not scared of thunder...” you mumble. He chooses to cocoon you further with his massive body, noticeably warming himself up to protect you from the potential cold.

 “You do not need to lie, little one. I am not expecting you to be perfect, okay?”

 He pauses, mulling over his next words. 

 “I am only expecting perfection from me.”

[vina-writes]

The Pink Paradox

Written for the @drarrymicrofic​ prompt: Metamorphosis!

Rating: T

Length: 1.6k

Summary: Draco Malfoy has pink hair.

Notes: Thank you so much @fw00shy​​ for betaing!! Also just hire me for all your graphic design needs because hot damn I am proud of myself

(i)

Draco Malfoy has pink hair.

That’s not entirely correct when one gets down to the facts. Draco Malfoy has blond hair— a light, airy blond, the color of sunlight on snow. Harry Potter knows this because he’s spent many an adolescent winter watching Malfoy walk the grounds of a frozen Hogwarts and noticing it. The fact that he’s observed Malfoy that carefully is neither here nor there, although Ron would say it’s there (there being the Janus Thickey Ward). Harry’s Malfoy-stalking tendencies occupy their own corner of his mind however, and certainly don’t apply to the here and now.

Because here and now Malfoy has pink hair, and that’s not something unique to Harry’s observations. There’s not a witch or wizard alive who wouldn’t notice that head of bubblegum bobbing between the Auror cubicles.

It’s far too early for a Monday morning (nearing noon), and while their coworkers have been diligently ridding the Wizarding World of crime, Harry and Ron are tossing Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into each other's mouths and gossiping over Lavender Brown’s pregnancy cravings. They were, that is, until Harry caught sight of Malfoy's pink hair.

“Kneazle got your tongue?” Ron asks after Harry fails to finish his sentence for the fifth time. Ron can make fun of him if he wants— his chair is facing away from Malfoy and that rosy fringe. The fact that Harry has never passed up a chance to watch Draco in all their years of training and employment (with or without pink hair) is irrelevant. The pink is distracting, and it’s more so on Malfoy.

“Malfoy,” Harry repeats to himself quietly, just to feel the familiar shape in his mouth. It’s lacking the venom and suspicion it should have on principle.

Ron turns unpleasantly green at that. “Malfoy’s got your tongue?” he asks.

“What?” Harry finally looks away from Malfoy. “No. Ew. Of course not.” He says it far too blandly, like a child denying their love of sweets, and Ron gives him a Look. Harry tries (unsuccessfully) to change the subject. “What’s he doing with the— why did he— what’s… erm.”

Ron regards him like he’s lost his mind. He seems to think Harry is confused about Malfoy’s business in the DMLE, when he’s usually with Hermione down in Mysteries. While that is out of the ordinary, it’s not nearly as pressing of an issue as Malfoy's pink hair.

“He’s consulting,” Ron explains slowly, “for the Finley case?” Then, when Harry only stares back blankly— “Harry. Can you even read?”

“Occasionally.”

“Tacky romance novels don't count.”

“Oh. Then, no, not really.”

“It was in our missive just last week. They’ve pulled in the Unspeakables. I was hoping they’d send ‘Mione, since she and the Ferret work together, but no such luck.”

“Oh.” Harry turns back to watch Malfoy shake Robards’ hand. Robards' grip is strong, and his thick fingers nearly engulf Malfoy’s delicate wrist. Harry doesn’t like that.

“Are you worried he’s going to cause trouble?” Ron asks. His voice sounds different, and when Harry glances at him again he’s got both feet slung over the armrest of his chair. Robards will skin him alive if he sees.

“No!” Harry says too quickly. He coughs. “Just wondering about the— er, how long has he had…?”

Ron doesn’t seem inclined to help him out.

“For fuck’s sake, Ron, when did he go and do—” Harry waves his hands frantically “—that?”

“Do you mean the hair, mate?”

“Yes, the bloody hair!” Harry’s had his fair share of existential crises in his life. He’s well acquainted with the feeling, and this one is going near the top of the list.

Ron, the bastard, shrugs. Shrugs! Like a pink-haired Malfoy is not only a normal occurrence, but is even expected.

“I didn’t notice it at first, to be honest,” he says, and Harry throws him a look of such vicious resentment that the potted Dragon Snap in the corner stops smoking and curls its leaves over its head. Ron just gives him a shit-eating grin in return.

Discouraged by his apparently un-threatening aura, Harry glances away in time to see Malfoy get a hearty pat on the shoulder (he doesn’t like that, either) and turn towards— towards them.

“Er, Ron?” Harry asks. “Who was assigned to the Finley case?” He knows the answer before he gets it, but still can’t look away from the cutting figure Malfoy makes as he saunters towards them in swirling black robes.

“That would be us,” Ron says cheerfully. “Buckle up and tuck in, mate. Your hard-on is showing.”

Harry is not hard, not even a little, but his panicked struggle to tug the mercilessly short Auror robes over his lap leaves him wrinkled and guilty-looking when Malfoy reaches them.

“Gentlemen,” Malfoy says cooly, and Harry thinks his cheeks must be the color of Malfoy’s hair.

“Harry’s hot for your hair,” Ron says. Harry chokes. “He’s also not read the case file, so I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t come looking for me, I’ll be taking an extended lunch. Looking forward to working with you.”

He throws them both a saucy wink and leaves with all the smugness of a man who’s done his yearly good deed. Harry’s going to murder him before the day is done.

Silence descends over their cubicle. Malfoy eyes Ron’s chair, but wisely chooses to remain standing. Harry notices belatedly that his robes are trimmed in silver, the same shade at his eyes.

“Potter.”

“Malfoy,” Harry acknowledges with a polite nod. The stillness around them is most certainly plummeting towards awkward.

“I heard you like my—”

“Have you read the—”

They both speak at the same time. Malfoy blinks, startled. When he doesn’t finish his sentence, Harry tries again.

“Have you not been debriefed on—”

“I noticed you changed your—”

They wisely decide to shut up. There’s a used staple on the corner of Harry’s desk, and he reaches over to fiddle with it just for something to do.

“Staples,” Malfoy says out of the blue. He looks like he regrets his volume, and it occurs to Harry that he probably feels just as uncomfortable. This is the first time they’ve spoken beyond polite greetings in four years, and neither is sure what to expect. It makes Harry feel better, somehow, to know that he’s not the only one feeling utterly wrongfooted.

“Yes,” Harry says. “Staples?”

Malfoy swallows. His neck is a long expanse of smooth skin, and Harry vaguely wonders what it tastes like. “We might make use of them on the case. Staples, I mean. Have you any more?”

Harry frowns, his discomfort dissipating. “Yeah, in the supply closet. But we just use Sticking Charms— don’t you?”

“Yes,” Malfoy says quickly. “We do. But we could try staples from the supply closet.”

It’s Harry’s turn to deploy the Look. Malfoy frowns at him like he doesn't get it, but Harry’s not really in the mood for deduction.

“So,” Harry says instead, “Auror work. Are you looking forward to it?”

There’s a shift in Malfoy’s stance, and his grey eyes skim over the lines of Harry’s body. “Parts of it,” he says. His tone is a little off. Husky.

“Sore throat?” Harry asks in what he hopes is a sympathetic manner.

“Sometimes,” Malfoy says cryptically. Harry’s not having the greatest time puzzling out his strange behavior and responses— they leave him floundering for something else to say.

“Are you going to tell me what’s in that fancy file or do I have to read it?” Harry finally asks, jerking his chin towards the papers tucked under Malfoy’s arm. He sincerely hopes Malfoy will volunteer to summarize for him. It’s because Harry’s glasses are giving him a headache and not at all because he likes the sound of Malfoy’s voice.

Malfoy’s cheeks flush a little. Harry wonders if he’s coming down with something, even as he struggles not to think of the color as attractive. “Protocol dictates that you read case information yourself,” Malfoy says, “but I suppose I wouldn’t mind speeding things along so we can get started. Maybe… over coffee? Or lunch?”

Harry tries not to let his dismay show on his face. “We have to work through lunch?” he asks. It sounds pathetic even to his own ears.

“Oh my fucking Merlin, he’s asking you out!” Cho shouts over the cubicle wall. Harry and Malfoy both jump.

“No, he’s not!” Harry shouts back, cheeks flaming.

“Yes, I am,” Malfoy says. Harry drops the used staple.

“You are?”

“Am I?”

“I don’t bloody know!”

“Well,” Malfoy starts, but seems to realize he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. “Well— you like my hair.”

“And that’s enough reason to ask me out for coffee?”

Harry really has no idea why he’s arguing. This is Malfoy— pink-haired, blushing Malfoy— handing himself over on a silver-trimmed platter, and he mentally slaps himself for putting up any sort of resistance.

“I like your hair,” Malfoy admits. He seems to regret saying it, and tries to make up for his embarrassment by adopting a suave position leaning against Harry’s desk. He misses and stumbles slightly before righting himself.  

“Don’t worry, Malfoy,” Cho calls again. “He’s been wetting himself over you for years, he’s bound to say yes.”

“Well, he’s not saying it,” Malfoy mutters.

“Yes I am.”

“You— you are?”

“Am I?”

Malfoy stops and stares at him. Opens his mouth, frowns a little. There’s a wonderful feeling in Harry’s chest.

“I’m just fucking with you,” Harry says over a smile. “Let’s go.”

Malfoy orders a strawberry milkshake at lunch. Harry doesn’t get dessert, but he still feels very… pink.

Read on Ao3

[mustyrosewater]

their responses to the words “make me.”

as i’m sure we all know, the two words “make me.” are some of the most used in a brat’s vocabulary. greatly inspired by my good friend @the-door-matt​ (who is a self proclaimed brat.) i have decided to write how pedro’s characters respond to said sentence. good luck, and god bless the brats. 

NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

javier pena :

baby, are-

are you sure you don’t have a death wish? surely you do if you give a man like javier pena any from of attitude. 

all day, you’d been trying to get under your co workers skin, simple things such as taking just a little bit of extra time getting your coffee, making you late. wearing those bell bottom jeans you know hugged your ass just the right way, anything you could do to get on javier pena’s nerves, you did.

you don’t even remember what he asked you for, maybe he’d asked you to hand him a pen, or even pass him a file that was sitting beside you; all that you remember, is leaning forward slightly from where you were sitting on the desk and tilting your head before saying those cursed to words.

“make me, pena.”

admittedly, you should have known better, but for some strange reason, you’d just felt the need to push one his buttons, at least you’d been wise enough to do this when it was after hours, only the two of you left in his office to sort through reports and such. 

you should have known that from the way he turned deathly still and looked up at you slowly, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. if look’s could kill, you’d most definitely be dead. you could only watch as he slowly took the cigarette from his lips and squashed it in the ceramic ashtray on his desk. 

next thing you know, javier has gotten up from his desk and is now standing in front of you, a hand now wrapped gingerly around your lower throat, not applying any pressure, simply sitting his hand there and keeping you still. 

“is that how it’s going to be? you’ve been trying to get under my skin all day missy.” 

as he speaks, his head lowers from around your throat to begin ghosting along your covered skin, barley applying enough pressure to feel his touch, just enough to know that its there.

“this is what you want? is that why you’ve been trying to push my buttons all day hm?”

legend has it you had trouble walking the next day, bruises on your hips and thighs certainly saw to that. needless to say, javi didn’t get attitude from you except on some very special occasions. 

francisco “catfish” morales : 

you took his hat, babe, why did you take his hat?!

he’d been searching for it since he woke up, after he’d had a shower, only to find that his hat wasn’t waiting for him on the bedside table as it always was. there was also the matter of the fact that you were nowhere to be found. 

he came down the stairs slowly, only now hearing movement in the kitchen. when he finally poked his head around the corner only to find you in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and waiting for toast to pop did he spot his cap sat snugly on top of your head, turned backwards allowing him to see the logo of the oil company. 

you must have heard him, because you turned and offered him a big smile, though he could read the mischief clear on your face. 

“morning.” you practically sang as he approached, wrapping your arms around his waist and standing on your toes to kiss the end of his nose. his hands sat snugly on your hips as he stared down at you like you would stare at a puppy that had been caught chewing on its owners shoe. 

before he could reach up to take his hat back, you broke away from his hold once you’d heard the toast pop. 

wasting no time, frankie only shook his head. “give it back.” he knew you knew what he meant, but you only turned around, giving a mock clueless look.

“give what back, babe?”

“my hat, give it back.” he didn’t sound angry, not even annoyed; if anything, he sounded like he was enjoying this little game you’d started with him.

“make me, francisco.” 

you quickly realized you’d fucked up when his eyes suddenly darkened, as he moved closer to you and had you pressed up against the counter in a manner of seconds. his breathing had suddenly grown heavy and he was practically grinding against you. 

as you breathed out a few soft moans, shutting your eyes and wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt the cap being pulled off of your head, opening your eyes just in time to see him placing his cap back on his head.

your mouth hung open as he smiled down at you and turned around heading for the front door. 

“don’t even think about it francisco.” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him back into the kitchen, hearing him laughing as he spun you around and pushed you back onto the counter, continuing his trail of kisses. 

shane “dio” morissey : 

oof, well, i can tell you that you fucked up.

dio is not somebody who likes to be given attitude in any shape or form, not getting his way, whether it be through manipulation or force, is an entirely foreign concept our resident goth boy. 

literally, doesn’t even matter why you said it, or what it was about. all that matters is that the words “make me” are like flicking a switch in dio’s mind that suddenly has you pressed against the wall with his hands wrapped around your throat as well as dio practically seething the most pornographic sentences into your ear.

don’t expect to be experiencing any release though, dio is going to do whatever he wants, and that means that you won’t be cumming until you’re crying, not until you’ve learnt his lesson.

whether that means you spend hours with his head between your thighs or rather hours bent over the bed with him pounding into you relentlessly until you can’t take anymore, it’s all the same to dio. 

he’s not going to let you cum until you are in tears baby cakes, not until you’re crying out that you can’t take any more and that you’re sorry, this is never going to happen again and that he needs to stop.

well, then he will, only long enough to gruffly let out “make me.” before resuming his torture on your body.

yeah, you won’t be walking straight for quite a few days after that, sorry not sorry. 

oberyn martell :

it’s the giving an actual prince attitude for me-

no, for real, despite the fact that oberyn is a prince, we know that he doesn’t take it too close to heart when it comes to thinking he’s above certain things.

however, you? being a brat? haha yeah that shit’s not gonna fly. as soon as you say that sentence and give him that look, it’s over. oberyn doesn’t tolerate you being a brat unless he wants you to be a brat.

he will simply repeat his request, allowing you one more chance to be good for him, when you retaliate with another “make. me.” this time pausing between words, oberyn simply shrugs, he gave you a chance, can’t say he didn’t try.

he walks towards you and picks you up, dropping you down onto the bed, staring down at your as he unlaces the lather belt holding his tunic in place. he lets it fall off of his shoulders leaving him only in his loose orange pants as you stare up at him, narrowing your eyes and biting your lip. 

he’s not stupid sis, he knows that this was what you wanted all along, seven god’s forbid he actually lets you get away with it though.

overstimulation and spanking is all that you’re going to get, all while he nonchalantly tells you “i gave you a chance to be good my little dove, if you want to be bad, see what you get.” before he lets another smack come down hard on your thigh. 

much like our friend dio, oberyn isn’t going to stop until you’re on the brink of tears and apologizing profusely, just pleading, begging for him to let you come. 

however, unlike dio, oberyn will cave in and let you because he’s lying if he says that look when your eyes roll back and your mouth hangs open turn him to putty in your hands. 

din djarin : 

ok look, he tried, he really did.

when you first replied to his request to pass him a tool with a mischevous “make me.” he only stopped for a second before resuming what he was working on.

“i’m serious.” he replied as nonchalantly as always, only causing a pout to form on your face.

“so am i.” you shrugged, moving the tool box out of his reach with your foot when he let out a sigh and reached for the tool himself.

“i’m not in the mood.” he grunted, standing up to tower over you, staring you down through the vizor of his helmet. you couldn’t even see his face, but knowing that under his helmet he must have been starting to get annoyed only brought a smirk onto your own. 

the tool that was clasped tightly between your hands was the next object of his staring. he reached for it, only for you to place your hand behind your back, not once breaking eye contact with the bounty hunter. 

though his helmet you could hear the pissed off huff he gave, right before he grabbed your other wrist and spun you around to push you down onto the crate you’d been previously sitting on. unable to move, you could only wait as he pried to tool out of your hand and suddenly let you go, only turning back to what he was working.

pouting, you turned around, expecting to see him continuing his work, instead, you watched him chuck the tool back into the tool box before he looked back at you, reaching forward to grip you by your shoulders and lead you into the room that two of you shared on the crest.

only checking once to make sure the kid was asleep, he shut the door behind him and shoved you down onto the bed, beginning to unbuckle his belt, only staring at you through his vizor. 

he fucked you into the mattress that night, so hard that you had bruises on your hips when you woke up, walking out of the room only to find him working once again, missing the small chuckle that emitted from him as you limped past him.

maxwell lord :

sorry my love, maxwell lord IV doesn’t take orders from anybody, especially not you. the two of you had gotten into some petty argument, something about how you’d already responded to star labs saying he’d be attending their charity gala, and now here he was, claiming that he no longer wanted to attend purely based off of the fact that one of the sales rep’s had given him a dirty look as they were leaving. 

you were stood in front of his desk, arms crossed and tapping your foot impatiently, staring at your boss as he propped up his feet and gave you that smirk that was all to familiar and all too infuriating. 

without another word, you simply threw your hands up and grabbed your coat, turning around and walking towards the large mahogany doors you knew would take you out of his office.

“don’t walk away from me.” his voice rung out behind you, as well as the sound of him standing up from his chair. 

you didn’t reply, only continued walking; just as your hand touched the door handle his voice rung out again, though much colder, much more harsh.

“don’t you take one more step out of this office.” 

you whipped your head around to look at maxwell, your eyes suddenly wide with insult, who the hell was he to order you? well, technically he was your boss, but still. 

you took a few steps towards him, your heel’s clicking on the marble floor before you stopped and stood in silence, letting your eyes linger on his face before finally speaking. 

“make me.” 

without even waiting for a reply you turned around and continued your retreat out of the office that you were sure cost more than your own house three times over. 

but before you could leave, you felt hands on your shoulders as you were spun around harshly to meet the angry eyes of maxwell, his breathing was heavy and his perfectly gelled hair had moved slightly out of place, leaving a few strands sitting on his forehead. 

“is that what i have to do to get you to fucking listen to me once in awhile hm?” as he spoke, he turned the two of you around and continued until you were pushes against his desk feeling the hard wooden table digging into the backs of your thighs. 

all i’m gonna say is, expect to be bent over that desk and prepare to hide the bruises around your thighs from by the time our man is done with you.

you may have begun to order him around a lot more often after that occurence, who knows. 

max phillips :

okay well, for one 

why are you saying “make me” to your boss

especially when your boss is max phillips  

it was, in all honestly, because you were having a bad day, technically your shift wasn’t starting for another ten minutes, you’d only just sat down at your desk and let out a sigh as you heard your boss’ office door opening as well as those infuriatingly well polished shoes appearing in your vision.

without even saying good morning or anything, max was already on your case about those reports that were meant to be on his desk by this afternoon.

not even waiting for a reply, he patted you on the shoulder and reminded you that you needed to start working.

without even thinking, as he was walking away, you blurted out a snide “make me.” it was meant to be quieter than it came out, a little snap only meant for your ears, and yet, somehow, he seemed to have heard it loud and clear.

the second, and i mean the second, those words leave your mouth, max’s head will have spun around to look at you in disbelief, sparing little to no time before he’s placing his hands flat on the desk of your cubicle and narrowing his eyes at you, only to growl:

“my office, right now.”

hope you’re ready bby, cause max certainly is. 

all your coworkers have to pretend that they don’t know exactly whats going to happen when max asks you to close the door behind you.

max practically shuffles his desk into the wall while bending you over it and fucking you into tomorrow, in his mind, this was his way of showing you what an attitude like that would get you

they also pretend that they can’t hear the banging and muffled moans coming from his office, he’s their boss, they can’t say shit. 

by the time your waddling out of his office, sheepishly adjusting your dress and collar, all while max leans in the door frame with a confident smirk plastered on his face. 

this is then followed by him demanding that everybody stop staring and get back to work.

jack daniels a.k.a agent whiskey : 

i love our yeehaw man, you love our yeehaw man, we love our yeehaw man.

so i can’t work out why you would want to get on this mans nerves.

it starts out small, little things that you know will push his buttons, stealing his hat off of his head once, then twice and then finally a third time.

you sat on his desk beside where he was working and grabbed the hat off of his head for the third time after he’d taken it back, placing it on top of your head and flicking the brim upwards playfully.

you knew he could stop you from taking it, but he was either enjoying this more than he was letting on, or didn’t have the heart to stop your fun, either way; what had started out as fun was very noticeably beginning to annoy him.

he sighed deeply when you grinned at him, swinging your legs back and fourth from where you were sitting.

“babygirl, light of my life, will you please stop taking my hat.” 

his voice was audibly tired as he looked up at you, only to see you grinning.

“but i like it, it looks better on me.”

by the sound he made, you could tell you were right, or at the very least, he really enjoyed seeing you in his hat, but despite that, he still lifted a hand to reach for it only to have you lean away from his reach

“i’m gonna have to ask for that back sugar.” 

“make me cowboy.”

as soon as you said that, his eyes noticeably darkened as soon as you said it, leading to him standing up and stepping in front of you, standing between your legs. 

“i won’t ask again babycakes. give me the hat.”

your only response was to lean in and smile at him.

“make. me.”

that was the limit, within mere blinks of an eye you found yourself bent over whiskey’s knee as he sat down in his office chair, the hat still on your head.

“i gave you the chance babygirl, no arguing now.”

your ass is gonna be red by the time your out of that chair, and i can confirm you will indeed be walking weird tomorrow.

but hey, it was worth the hat, wasn’t it?

pero tovar : 

baby i hope you know what you’re doing..

you stole his coin purse off of his belt while walking past him in the market, you’d stolen several coin purses today, this was just the first one that caught you.

you were only a few meters away when you’d heard him yell out from behind you, resulting in you breaking into a sprint through the crowd in order to get away from the mercenary now hunting you.

it took a few minutes of running before you were able to successfully escape, hiding behind a building and leaning against the wall huffing and puffing feeling like you were going to be sick.

finally calm enough to continue on, you turned the corner only to run bang smack into said mercenarys chest, the now very angry mercenary.

“you made me chase you through three streets senorita.”

despite attempting to turn and run once more, he caught you almost instantly and had you slammed against the wall.

“you’re one of the only people that have been able to outrun me, but despite this, you stole from me. give it back.”

maybe it was the high adrenaline, or the fact that the close proximity was allowing you to feel his breath on your cheek, but for some reason, you decided to dig your own grave even deeper.

“make me.”

the growl that left that man was nothing if not animalistic, the next thing you knew, you’d been swung around and having your chest pressed against the wall as he grinded against you, dipping face down to breathe in your scent.

“if we’re going to be like that senorita...”

yeah, needles to say you had a very fun time from then on out explaining to people how you met your latin lover. 

dave york : 

death. ELECTRIC CHAIR. did u really, reeeaallly decide to give a trained assassin attitude? ur funeral babes. 

i don’t even want to know how it happened, but as soon as that man heard “make me.” leave your pretty little lips. oh mama.

you were bent over the kitchen counter, hand through your hair, pulling it back and other hand blissfully placed around your neck, gradually applying more pressure.

“oh, you thought that was fucking funny? you want me to make you? you little fucking whore, i’ll make you then.”

trust this man will be leaving several bruises all over your body, this is literal hate fucking at a certain point, there is no other way to describe the way this man reacts to attitude of any kind.

words cannot describe the state that you are left in, but as much as it hurt, the aftercare is worth it. waking up to him laying soft kisses along your shoulder, all the bruises and bitemarks.

bringing you coffee while running you a bath so that the two of you can relax and let your body recover from the absolute torture and pleasure it has been through 

[amedetoiles]

@suibian-chenqing​ ME TOOOO!!! It is my ultimate endgame in any version of cql/mdzs. Just Lotus Pier in some way, shape, or form being the home where everyone returns to.

So please consider a universe where everyone makes better choices, has healthier conflict resolution skills à la conversations over soup, and lives happily ever after. Hear me out:

We all know that the chaotic Jiang disciples are the unsung heroes of the story, always merrily dragging their grumpy grape sect leader from danger and picking up after his dramatically discarded capes across various parts of the country.

What if after that staged fight while Jiang Cheng angrily copes with brozilla wedding planning (they hear him crying yelling multiple times at all the notebooks full of wedding ideas Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng have jotted down over the years), they decide that this is just not conducive to the happiness of their two favorite Young Masters?

Or equally important, the continuation of their beloved tradition of monthly Lotus Pier lake parties. A Jiang pool party without their resident chaos king and undisputed champion for the highest caliber splash swan dives? This Will Not Stand!

Obviously it is their Duty and their Right as the protectors and purveyors of Jiang culture for a few of them to secretly stow away while Jiang Cheng is having an epic meltdown over fabric.

“800 thread count? Are you out of your goddamn minds? My only sister, and you expect us to throw her a wedding with disgraceful eight hundred thread count fabric?! Do we Jiangs look like barbarians to you?!”

The Jiang disciples go to Yiling, rush up the Burial Mounds, and shout very convincingly, “Da-shixiong! Da-shixiong! Zongzhu, he – he –”

Wei Wuxian, war-torn, living with ten thousand ghosts, and constantly on edge, panics immediately, jumps to the absolute worst conclusion, and doesn’t even clarify before he rushes down the mountain because oh god, oh god, no, not again, didn’t he leave so his siblings would be safe, didn’t he promise to keep Jiang Cheng safe?????

Wen Qing warily agrees to come along because they clearly now have this well-established ongoing unspoken agreement to constantly save each other’s little brothers.

If the Jiang disciples have caught Jiang Cheng brooding over a pretty redwood comb wrapped in a silk handkerchief more than once, then they don’t say anything. Just share silent looks of glee when no one is watching.

By the time they reach Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian has worked himself up into such a state of frenzy that he bursts through the doors of Lotus Pier like a black thundercloud of overprotective fury and worry, screaming, “JIANG CHENG! JIANG CHENG!”

.... Jiang Cheng is sitting on the floor of the Sword Hall, surrounded by a mountain of square fabric samples, with bits of thread stuck in his hair, totally gobsmacked at the sight of his windswept big brother.

Wei Wuxian, still panicked, falls to the floor in front of him, grabs Jiang Cheng by the arms before he can even react, and frantically checks him over. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened – I thought –”

Jiang Cheng stares at him. Wei Wuxian blinks. The Jiang disciples have all conveniently disappeared.

Behind them, Wen Qing heaves a big sigh, slow and long through pursed lips. She bows respectfully, says “I will be outside,” and gets the fuck out of there.

There is a tense silence. Wei Wuxian realizes he’s been tricked, but he is so overcome with relief after all that soul-crushing fear that he doesn’t even get mad, just sags forward with his face in Jiang Cheng’s chest as the adrenaline leaves him all at once. He pretends he’s not shaking.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if he wants to shove Wei Wuxian away, hug him back, or wrap him in as many blankets as he can possibly find until a-jie comes home. He does none of those, just demands, half-strangled, half-something-like-worry, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“They said – I thought you were in trouble or – or –”

[long pause] “You – came all the way here shouting like a possessed lunatic because you thought I was in trouble?”

Wei Wuxian hunches a little defensively and starts to move away. “Of course I did.” He makes sure to add, with emphasis, “Idiot.”

It doesn’t matter if Jiang Cheng can’t make up his mind because apparently his hands can, and they grip both of Wei Wuxian’s elbows to keep his brother from pulling away. They stare at one another.

”You said you didn’t want anything to do with the Jiang sect.”

Wei Wuxian looks away, grumbling. “How else was I supposed to keep you and shijie safe? Besides, you’re the one who stabbed me.” He is very pouty about this.

Jiang Cheng, immediately incensed and indignant, shouts, “You broke my arm! I had to be in a cast for a whole month!”

An almost smile flashes over Wei Wuxian’s face. “Hey, it was only your left arm. You were still able to write.”

Jiang Cheng glares at him and shoves his shoulder. Wei Wuxian instinctively shoves him back. They stare. Wei Wuxian scrubs his face tiredly with his hands. Jiang Cheng has to push away the urge to motherhen with blankets again.

He says, “I never asked you to protect me.”

Wei Wuxian gives him a look. “I don’t need to be asked.”

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “I don’t want you to protect me, idiot.”

Wei Wuxian heaves a very resigned sigh. “Then what do you want?”

Several answers come up, all too serious and too revealing without the support of a-jie’s soup and copious amount of alcohol. So Jiang Cheng just throws a handful of fabric samples at Wei Wuxian’s face. “Help me pick through these until a-jie comes home. You should have fucking heard Jin Zixuan’s suggestions last week. If we let the peacock plan a-jie’s wedding, it’s going to be an absolute disaster.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile this time is real and genuine and lasts the entire afternoon of bickering over fabric squares until Jiang Yanli rushes into the pavilion with many Jiang disciples in tow and hugs both her brothers for the first time in months. They manage to not horribly cry all over each other.

Jiang Yanli insists Wen Qing has dinner with them. There’s plenty of soup after all. Jiang Cheng is awkwardly stiff and doesn’t look Wen Qing in the eye the entire time, and Wei Wuxian pokes him repeatedly with silent  what the hell is wrong with you.

They talk about growing turnips, purifying rice wine, that the scariest thing about Wen Ning is his ability to create a disturbingly large variety of dishes from turnips, and how Wei Wuxian has essentially adopted baby A-Yuan as his own.

Later, Jiang Yanli tells Wen Qing, with a smile, her eyes alight like a flame, that she will take care of it. Wen Qing has no idea what this means. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian share a look as only little brothers with intimate knowledge of their big sister’s stubbornness could and wisely choose to remain silent.

Jiang Yanli enlists the help of both Jin Zixuan and Madam Jin and somehow does indeed take care of it.

Many back door conversations occur between Jiang, Jin, Lan, and Nie sects. Jin Zixuan is the sole Jin representative. Nie Mingjue is initially leery but comes at the behest of Huaisang and Xichen.

At some point, Wen Ning tells Wei Wuxian that if they are going to do this, then it’s best if they have no more secrets. Wei Wuxian glares and tries to pretend that he has no idea what he is talking about, but neither Jiang Yanli nor Jiang Cheng allow Wei Wuxian to run away this time.

There is an emotional golden core reveal, followed by an equally emotional I didn’t go back for their bodies, with lots of shouting, shoving, crying, and clinging. In the aftermath, the Jiang siblings form an even stronger co-dependent unit around each other.

Jiang Yanli coordinates with Lan Xichen (and a begrudgingly cooperative Jiang Cheng) to bring Lan Wangji to Lotus Pier to help Wei Wuxian control his powers. Wangxian are desperately cute, and Jiang Cheng makes pointed gagging sounds whenever he’s around them that leads to several incidents of lake shoving, an excitable gaggle of Jiang disciples swan diving into the water after them, and a very, very confused Lan.

In the end, Wei Wuxian refuses to hand over the Stygian Tiger Seal to any of the sects, but he does agree to destroy it if Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and the remaining Wens are granted clemency and allowed to live freely without persecution. Jiang, Lan, and Nie sects agree.

Jin Guangshan tries to make an uproar, but in a surprising turn of events, Jin Guangyao (grateful for Jiang Yanli’s non-judgmental kindness over the past year) reveals all of his father’s treacherous secrets, including ordering the slaughter of Wen civilians, pardoning and releasing Xue Yang, and purposefully fueling the mob against Wei Wuxian to acquire the seal for himself. Jin Guangshan is shamed, sentenced, and dies imprisoned some months later.

Jin Zixuan formally recognizes his newly renamed brother Jin Ziyao.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian decide that their sister is even scarier than they had believed.

The Wens leave the Burial Mounds and build a small village together in Yiling where they branch into farming non-turnip crops much to the delight of Wei Wuxian. Jiang disciples are dispatched to help with the construction of several buildings, including one extremely beautiful apothecary. Jiang Cheng is seen in Yiling fairly regularly.

Jin Zixun, the most vocal opponent against the pardons for Wei Wuxian and the Wens, tragically falls off a cliff one day. Sect Leader Yao tries to pin it on Wei Wuxian, but Jiang Cheng shuts him down with scathing ferocity.

Someone also puts a Silencing Spell on Sect Leader Yao and keeps it going. Every Lan swears it was not them and thus cannot remove the spell. It lasts for two glorious months. Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji get along disturbingly well from that point on.

Wei Wuxian is there when Jiang Yanli gets married in a magnificent splendor of red and gold. He is there to see Jin Ling born, to watch Jiang Cheng tie a purple bell to their nephew’s robes, and to gift little A-Ling a bracelet on his first month birthday. He is there to watch Jiang Cheng rebuild their sect with unending grit, respect, and loyalty. He is there to see Jin Ling and A-Yuan grow up underneath a sky he helped clear, loved and adored by all the different parts of their family. And some years after he and Lan Wangji are happily married, Wei Wuxian is there when his little brother dons red robes and bows to the heavens, to the earth, and to a woman with a redwood comb in her hair whose life became entwined with theirs so very long ago.