#how did i go from international problem-solving to This

[meistoshi]

due to personal reasons (being on undercover brainrot) am once again thinking abt my frontier n badend verses coz in both satoshi takes a more active interest in working to protect various regions & more purposefully offers assistance when he hears about troubles, the only main difference in that regard between the verses being that frontier still sees him travel for the thrill of it & not quite seeking out trouble while badend sees him travel almost primarily To look for troubles to solve

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

It’s Not A Big Deal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems.

Word Count: 3.1K (I promise I didn't mean for it to happen)

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing (only a few times), Heated Kiss, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex/Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

Main Masterlist

A/N: Okay I know that I should be working on my other fics, but I had this idea after reading an INCREDIBLE fic by @justagirlinafandomworld called "Stranded" for @jacklesversebingo and I couldn't help myself.

Sam squeals the car into the parking lot of the motel so loud that Dean and you can hear the high pitched scream of rubber on asphalt from your room on the second level.

"If he ruins those tires he's going to pay for them." Dean grumbles under his breath from where he sits at the small wooden table under the window, wiping down his gun with a clean rag. The sunlight that came streaming through dramatized the sharp angles of his jaw and the soft sleepy strands of his hair that still stuck up from when he woke up an hour ago.

"I don't know what his hurry is." You don’t look up from the worn paperback perched in your lap, gently turning the page. "If he's that eager to get back here to tell us something he should have just called."

“Maybe there was a sample sale on hair gel.” Dean laughs at his own joke and you can sense him look up from the gun to try and catch your eye, but you don't raise your gaze from the text.

“That’s pretty brave coming from someone who owns 90% of the products in that bathroom.”

“What? I do not-“

“Really? If I walk in there right now there won’t be seven different half-used deodorant sticks?”

“They’re different smells." Dean says defensively. "And shut up. I don’t comment on how many books you bring with you. Don’t know why you need to shove a million in your bag and then just buy one while you’re here.”

“Because I might not feel like reading the ones I bring. I might want to try something new. And this book,” You wave the book in your hand for emphasis. “Is very good and I don’t have it back at the bunker, and it was only two bucks!"

“But the others ones might be good too. You don’t know.” Dean sighs, looking at you like you're insane. "You just let them sit and rot in your suitcase."

Today was the last day that you would be staying in Louis, Illinois. The current case that the three of you had been working on together had been solved, which meant that the townsfolk were no longer dealing with a zombie outbreak and you were at peace to settle down on your pull out bed with a good book, taking a few moments for yourself.

You desperately needed at least five, but you also wished that you were already back in your room at the bunker.

The bed there didn't have as many springs that stuck into your back at odd angles and didn't squeak whenever you moved an inch. Your inability to find a comfortable position meant that the mattress squeaked all night long and Dean had thrown his pillow at you to make it stop. He hadn’t been pleased when you returned it back to him. Then again, you had hit him in the face with it as hard as you could when you did.

And like hell you were going to give Dean Winchester the satisfaction of sleeping in bed with him. You’d had to do that one time on a hunt where there were no extra rooms and Dean refused to let you sleep on the floor or in his car. He said that you might make it spontaneously combust.  So you'd shared the bed and learned that he was the biggest blanket hog you’d ever met, not to mention when you woke up he was spooning you and you couldn’t be certain, but you thought he had tried to cop a feel at least once.

If anything you’d maybe sleep in Sam’s bed, but the guy was so much bigger than you he took up most of the space, so you were stuck with the pull out couch.

You couldn't wait to be home. You liked going out on cases, but you liked that you had a home now, a space that was only yours, and someplace where you could shut yourself away from the world. And most importantly, away from Dean Winchester, who had been the bane of your existence since the night you met him for the first time.

Of course this wasn't too bad either. Taking a few moments of quiet for yourself while Dean cleaned his guns and sorted some of his tools in his duffle. The two of you were getting more comfortable around one another. When you’d first met there had been a lot of screaming and several "she's not going to be there is she?" and "what the hell is she doing here?" questions that Dean moaned to Sam over and over the more the three of you teamed up.

You weren't used to working with other people, well, now you were,  but before it had just been you and the endless road. But as it began to happen more and more you tried to fit comfortably into the swing of things. Dean and you would occasionally bump heads, but it happened less now than it did before. After five years you'd hoped that the two of you could be more civilized, for Sam's sake at least.

Sam and you got along much better. You didn't understand what Dean's problem was with you, or why he hated you so much. He was always correcting you, insulting you, and snatching things away from you as if you hadn't been hunting your entire life. Occasionally it wasn't that bad, like right now, but it had been much worse a few years ago.

When you'd met Dean you'd hated him, thought he was a dick, but the more the two of you spent time together on cases the more you saw that he did those things to hide what he was feeling and the more you saw how big his heart was.

You believed that your relationship now with him had progressed to a sort of symbiotic relationship, but honestly it was more like passive aggressive roommates who fight over whose turn it is to clean the dishes.

Dean still tended to get high and mighty sometimes and annoyed you without end, but you stuck around and in Sam's words "bickered like an old couple."

Sam had gone to grab some snacks and fill the tank at the gas station down the street twenty minutes ago, leaving with a joyful "Don't kill each other."

So far there were no casualties, but apart of you itched to beam Dean in the back of the head with the paperback just for a little bit of excitement.

Sam bursts into the room out of breath. "Okay I-"

"Where's the fire Sammy?" Dean sighs looking up from his gun.

"I ran into someone when I was at the gas station." Sam says it all together, as if it's one sentence.

"And?" You move your hand in a come on gesture hoping that Sam will get to the point.

"Well he's- he's-"

The man that pushes into the room past Sam is not Dean, he looks like him, but that's not why he's so familiar. He's muscular with dark brown hair that hangs a little longer than Dean's, over the top of his ears, while a few strands fall forward on his forehead. He's allowed a dark beard to cover his cheeks, but his eyes are the same piercing green that they were the last time you saw him. And if that wasn't enough for you to recognize him, the dark green superhero suit would be a dead giveaway.

Oh shit.

"Ben?" You drop your book onto the thick carpeted floor in surprise.

Two months ago you had been unwillingly transported to another reality, a reality where superheroes were real, people had powers, and where you met a version of Dean that you actually got along with better than the Dean in your reality.

You hadn't told Sam or Dean what happened between Ben and you. You weren't about to admit out loud that you actually got along with another version of Dean or admit that you found the other version of Dean aka Ben, attractive. So attractive in fact that you had spent a good amount of the time in the other universe in bed with him before you came back to your reality.

Ben doesn't respond, instead he crosses the room in several powerful strides, and hauls you up off the pull out couch.

"What are you-"

One of his hands tangles in the back of your hair, pulling your mouth against his in a furious kiss that steals your breath away and silences whatever you were going to say next. A part of you registers that Dean and Sam are still in the room, but it's quickly swept away by how it feels to kiss Ben. You hadn't forgotten him, anything but that. Sometimes you actually kind of missed him, when you were lonely or when the Dean from your universe annoyed you too much. Because Ben annoyed you too, but at least at the end of it there was a way to relieve the tension. With Dean the only place you put all your frustration was into the hunt and there were only so many times you could bash a Djinn’s head in.

Ben's tongue brushes against your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you let him in, bringing your hands up to the back of his neck to thread into the long strands of his hair. The strands fall between your fingertips, feathering out from your grip. You moan softly into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, feeling the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheeks, and feel his hand begin to slip down your back to rest on the curve of your ass.

Well, he certainly hasn't changed.

"Fuck I missed you sweetheart." Ben murmurs against your mouth squeezing your butt to emphasize the point. "You and this sexy fucking body."

"Ben." You roll your eyes with a snort.

"What? You didn't miss me?" He raises an eyebrow, forcing his mouth into an attractive pout. "Because you certainly seemed happy to see me a second ago." His free hand gently traces your plump lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

"I did and I am happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"Thought so." Ben leans his head back down towards yours, ignoring your question as he tries to kiss you again, but before he can Dean interrupts.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dean shouts, standing from the table under the window, and points his gun at Ben's unprotected back. "Who the fuck are you?"

Ben half turns over his shoulder eyes flicking from the gun to Dean with a sigh. "Look the only thing that's gonna do is piss me off. And you don't want that kid."

Dean makes a face. "Who the hell are you calling kid?"

"Now why don't you two fuck off for a few hours, let me give her a proper hello." Ben turns his dark eyes back on you, cupping your chin in his large hand.

"Y/n? You want to tell us what's happening? Or who this guy is?" Sam asks, but you can't look away from Ben.

You really had missed him. Ben was even more attractive than you remembered. The day that you'd left his universe, Ben had asked you to stay, well, had asked you in his own way. He'd said that he wasn't done with you and if you had stayed he would have made it worth your while. But you had to come back. You weren’t sure how Dean and Sam would survive without you and also because the universe that Ben inhabited was more terrifying than yours, and that was saying something, given that you dealt with demons on a daily basis.

"Guys this is Ben." You clear your throat. "Ben this is Dean and Sam."

"Ben as in Soldier Boy? From the fucked up reality with the people with superpowers Ben?" Dean sputters. He lowered the gun slightly, but he's still looking from Ben to you like he's just walked in on his parents making out.

"Yes." You say it slowly, trying to find a way out, but there really isn't any way to hide this.

It's not that big a deal, is it?

Ben releases you and turns to look at Dean, eyes skating over his body. "So that's Dean?" He tilts his head to the side. "Kinda scrawny. The way you described him made me think he'd look a little more like a man and less like a fucking pussy."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Dean takes a step towards Ben, holding his gun steady out from his chest. You noticed that Dean did try to puff it out more after Ben's insult.

"You heard me." Ben smirks, welcoming the challenge.

"Whoa!" You step between them. "Calm down ladies there's enough Prada to go around at this sample sale."

Ben's eyes narrow in confusion at your comment, but he doesn't back down from Dean.

"I'd say that you left a few details out of your trip!" Dean shouts looking from Ben to you in disgust. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What?" You look at him like he’s crazy.

What does he mean?

"You, and him." Dean gestures wildly with the gun. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What are you talking about? No I didn't sleep with you, I slept with him and it was only once!" You shout back.

Ben clears his throat.

"Fine. A few times.” You correct with a sigh.

“But- you- him-“ Dean’s head turns from Ben to you. “Him- you-.”

“Yeah. Me and her fucked.” Ben says it slowly like Dean is a child.

Honestly he was acting a little bit like a child.

Sam is holding back his laughter behind a hand while Dean’s eye begins to twitch aggressively.

This is exactly why I didn’t tell him. They aren’t the same person! Dean is Dean and Ben is Ben. Someone who shares the same face. And probably the same other things that I’m not going to think about right now because that seems crazy.

"How many times is a few?” Dean demands.

"Why does that matter?”

"HOW MANY?" He shouts so loud that you think the people in the next room over were probably having a wonderful time listening to this soap opera.

Because it kinda did sound like one right? The main character never gets along with someone and then gets transported to another reality through a colorful portal and immediately clicks with another version of him. And-

Maybe I need to rethink my life.

"Well..." Your face scrunched up trying to count exactly how many times that you and Ben had sex. It was difficult. Not that it was hard to remember, you knew that you weren’t going to forget it anytime soon, but just the amount of times the two of you were together was more than you could count on your fingers.

"Well what? You were there for five days!"

"I mean..." You shrug.

“Why?” Dean groans pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to scrub the images from his brain.

Honestly, if he’d told you that he had sex with another version of you, you probably would have had the same reaction, but you were not about to admit that to Dean Winchester of all people.

He’s not gonna win this argument. Especially not when he's waving his gun around like a psychopath.

“Because he's-“ You  glance over at Ben who winks at you. “I don’t know. He’s just kinda-.”

“Everything you’re not.” Ben raises his eyebrow at Dean.

“Sammy you gonna weigh in on this?” You look at Sam expectantly hoping that he can jolt Dean out of the never ending loop he seemed to be stuck in.

“Nope. I’m staying out of it.” Sam holds his hands up in surrender.

“I cannot believe you slept with me!” Dean shouts again.

“Stop saying that! I didn’t sleep with you! I slept with him. Can we please move on-“ You groan.

"Same thing!"

"What? How is it the same thing?” You plant your hands on your hips glaring at Dean.

"He's me from another universe!" Dean is gesturing wildly with his gun now. “How would you feel if I slept with an alternate version of you?”

“It’s completely different!”

“How?”

“They aren’t us!”

“He sure as hell looks like me!" Dean snaps back. "What did you close your eyes the whole time or something?"

Your cheeks flare bright red with Dean's question. "No I didn't!"

“And I don’t look like you.” Ben grunts crossing his arms over his chest and giving Dean a once over again.

“He also doesn’t act like you.” You add.

It was true, Ben didn’t. And for some reason you got along with him more. You didn’t understand what Dean’s problem was, but for the better part of five years he’d been treating you like you hadn’t been hunting your whole life. Not to mention the first three years were spent with Dean barely saying two words to you without some kind of insult attached.

“That’s beside the point!”

“How is that beside the point?” You demand.

“I can’t believe you did this!”

"I didn't kill anyone Dean. I didn't torture any babies or kill any puppies. We are consenting adults! We had sex-"

“No no no!” Dean puts his fingers in his ears. “Lalalalala.” He sings to himself to avoid the image.

"And we're gonna have it again. So the two of you should clear out, unless you're in to that kind of thing Deanie.” Ben wraps his arm around your shoulders to pull you into him, but you don’t take your eyes off of Dean.

“Fuck I’m gonna need so much therapy after this” Dean groans putting the gun down on the table. Which was a good sign because now you weren’t worried that he would accidentally shoot Sam in the foot.

“Really? After everything you’ve gone through that’s what pushes you over the edge?” You ask him in shock.

“Yes. Are you happy? You’ve driven me to the point of insanity!” Dean snaps.

"You're acting like a child."

"I am not! I am having a completely normal reaction to finding out you slept with Wannabe Captain America!” Dean gestures to all of Ben who looks at Dean like he can’t tell if it’s an insult or not. 

You take in a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Why are you so upset that I slept with him Dean? I don’t understand how this is so earth shattering to you that two people had sex! You have sex with people all the time-“

“Not with you!”He snaps back, but then clears his throat when he realized what he just said.

“He is not YOU!” You shout rolling your eyes for the millionth time. At the rate he was going, you were sure they were going to roll out of your head. 

“As important as this conversation is… can we maybe put a pin in it and go back to why he’s here?” Sam asks diplomatically.

“No-“ Dean says at the same time you say.

“Yes! Ben why are you here?”

“Don’t really know.” He shrugs taking a long hit from a joint that seemed to materialize out of thin air, while tightening his arm over your shoulders. “All I know was that I was fighting Homelander and someone hit me from behind. Then I ended up here.” Ben’s eyes trace your body. “But I’m not complaining, especially not because I got to see you again doll.” He winks.

“Homelander?” Dean repeats. “That is the stupidest hero name I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

“He’s anything but a hero.” You fight the shudder from the last time you ran in to him. “Think about Superman if Superman was a narcissistic sadist with a massive inferiority complex, no weakness, and an obsession with perfect hair.”

Dean looks Ben up and down with a heavy sigh. “I’m disappointed that I couldn’t have at least been a bit more like Batman.”

“Trust me. You don’t want to meet knockoff Batman from his reality either.” You respond.

"I guess I'll start doing some research." Sam says slowly, looking from Ben to you while hiding a smile.

He’s enjoying this way too much.

"Good." Dean frowns at Ben, before he claps him hard on the shoulder. You saw Dean fight the wince when he felt how solid Ben was. "Let's get you home buddy." His eyes dart from Ben to you. "Before you do anything else that'll scar me for life."

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are not required, but are always appreciated! 😊

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[sugarnspice630]

Level Up - San

"The more noise you make, the faster it’ll go, got it?"

•pairing: dom!San x sub!reader

•word count: 1.3k

•tags: mdni, smut, overstimulation, humiliation, vibrator use (f receiving, m controlling), gamer san, Yunho, Jongho, and Wooyoung are featured in this fic with a focus on Jongho, bondage, reader gets ignored by San, slight praise, slight degradation, heavy teasing

Summary: San was tired of you interrupting his important game-play, so he took care of the problem by tying you up and making you cum many times, while the other members could hear.

Note: Reader internal dialogue will be blue text, San speaking but reader not fully paying attention will be red text.

A/N: Oddly enough this was a fantasy me and my ex had with each other, but we're no longer together so I changed it to be with men I care about now! Please let me know what you think and show your support by reblogging, liking, commenting, etc. Happy reading!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

San had enough of you interrupting his video game time with the members. Sitting in his lap, just trying to watch him play, giving him kisses every time he got a kill or did something good. Your constant need for attention was driving him crazy, and he had to do something about it. He excused himself from the party chat and muted his mic, or so he thought, before grabbing you off his lap and throwing you down onto the bed.

“S-San? What the fuck?!”

“If you’re not going to be a good girl and not bother me when I’m in the middle of an important mission, then I’ll have to force you to be one.” He snarls as he aggressively grabs your hands and ties them together before attaching your tied hands to the contraption hanging from above your bed.

“S-San I’m sorry!” You stutter in panic at the sudden shift in mood. You didn’t mean to set him off. You just haven’t seen him for a really long time and wanted to spend time with him, but I guess he needed his alone time. 

“Sorry is not gonna save you this time princess.” He turns away to grab something from the nightstand drawer. You realize what he grabbed, and you swallow the knot in your throat.

“S-Sannie please.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and you can only watch as he pulls your pajama shorts and underwear away from your waist, turns the vibrator on, places it in your underwear, and snaps the bands back to your skin.

“Shut it.” He grabs your chin and makes you look up at him. You furrow your eyebrows and bite the inside of your lip. The vibrator was pressing right against your bud and already causing a sensation that you knew if it continued, you would cum many times. He lets go of your face and shakes the vibrator’s remote in a taunting way.

“The more noise you make, the faster it’ll go, got it?” You nod your head softly, trying to suppress the moan that is threatening to come out already. San leans back away from you and steps away to continue his game. You watch as he picks his headset back up, places it on his head, leaving one ear uncovered to hear if you make any sound, and continues like nothing happened. 

“Hey, sorry guys, I’m back now.” 

You’re biting the inside of your lip hard, trying not to make noise, and just taking it as it is. You’re trying to focus on San talking to the members to take away from the vibrating monster tucked in your underwear. 

“What do you mean?” He sounds concerned…fuck this vibrator is getting on your nerves. 

“No no, she’s…fine. All taken care of.” Maybe if you move your legs a little, it’ll take the pressure off your clit. You move your legs, but it doesn’t solve the problem and only makes you whimper. Fuck…did he hear that? How loud were you? You look up at where San is sitting, and he slowly turns his head to the side, indicating that he heard you. He picks up the remote, increases the speed, and sits the remote back down. You close your eyes tightly and squeeze your legs together. Fuck fuck fuck, that was a bad idea! The vibrator only presses closer to you. You squirm on the bed and try to pull on your restraints, it’s no use; they are not budging. 

“Wooyoung don’t, I got it. No, I said I got it! I’ll kill the Sova.” San please, for the love of god stop talking and just get over here and help me. You tilt your head down and accidentally let out a moan. You can’t even bring yourself to raise your head because you know what’s coming. You feel the speed of the vibrator increase again. “Guys, I told you she’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He’s talking about you, they can hear you. Maybe they could come and help?

“Y-Yunho? Jongho? Wooyoung? H-help.” You cry out and let out some moans in between. You hear San huff, and he turns around in his chair to look at you. You look up at him, and his pants are pulled down a little and his whole cock is out and rock hard. You stare in awe and feel your mouth water a bit. I-I want it. You look up at him with begging eyes, but when your eyes meet his, there is a cold, blank stare looking back at you. He brings his finger to his lips, signing for you to stay quiet, and increases the speed of the vibrator yet again. This has to be the highest setting by now! You moan out softly and you can feel the knot in your stomach twisting and turning, like you are close to your release. 

“S-Sannie please!” You watch as he turns back around, but you catch a slight smirk on his face. He’s enjoying this. That sick fuck! You whimper out a couple more times and squirm your legs together, trying to get yourself off as quick as you can so you can end this. “Don’t you guys enjoy the sounds she’s making~? Cute, little girl, can’t behave for me at all~.” He taunts the members he’s playing with. He’s humiliating you..on purpose! Fuck this feeling, it’s too much! I can’t! You hang your mouth open and cry out softly as you cum for the first time that night. You tilt your head back and just let all the feelings come out. 

“There’s one for you boys~. Should we try for more~?” What does he mean more? You feel the vibrator slow down back to its original speed, and it allows you to catch your breath for a few minutes. You look up to where San is sitting with half-lidded eyes. You desperately want him to turn around and see how much you are struggling, and to help you out. Your breathing is still heavy, but you are not moaning like crazy anymore. “What setting do you want Jongho~?” You move your legs again to take the pressure off and to try to get the vibrator off of your clit to prevent you from being overstimulated. “Oh hoh~ good choice man~.” You feel the vibrator pulse, and then stop, pulse, and then stop. Fuck! N-no!

“M-make it stop. Please~!” The vibrator pulsing and then not was exactly the sensation you needed to get you close to another orgasm. “I think she likes that one Jongho~.” You were already sensitive from the first orgasm, and if this motion continued, you were certain you would cum again sooner rather than later. Letting out a few pathetic whimpers, you close your eyes, and you can feel the corners of your eyes getting wet. “I-I can’t~!” “You hear her, Jongho? You’re making her feel this way.” You sob out from the overstimulation and moan out loudly. “San, please help me!” 

“I think the boys wanna hear you more princess~. I’m not doing anything to help you.” Moaning out at his words, you feel a knot forming in your stomach again. Every noise that comes out of you is a whimper or a moan, until eventually you feel the knot come undone and cum over the vibrator again. The shrill scream-like moan you let out would definitely be concerning if the other members heard it without context.

“My my~ that was a good one~,” San paused his words to turn around and look at you, tilting his head softly to the side and looking at you with half-lidded eyes. "Boys, I wish you could see her right now~. So fucked out and beautiful. I know, I know you all wish to see, but she’s mine, and I don’t feel like sharing.”

Looking up at San, you beg him to stop this torture, quietly saying ‘please’ over and over again. He gets up and gently caresses your face, lifting your chin to make you look at him. He smirks at you softly and asks a question, but more so to the members, cause you know he wasn’t giving you the choice tonight.

“Let’s go for one more, shall we~?”

[flamingpudding]

The Ghost King is my Uncle Drabbles #2

A/N: Some more linked to a prompt week writing I did

>>Masterpost

Original this builds on: Link

Rowdy Cousin

Batman swore internally, from the outside he stoically sat in his chair and did nothing to indicate the absolute chaos that was going on in his mind. The Meeting rooms light flickered and the speakers once more started up loudly blaring a song all over the Watchtower. He was pretty sure one of his sons had told him once that playing that song was a meme.

"Someone do something about that kid! He is Rickrolling us!" Green Lantern screamed above the music.

"Constantine is already trying to do something." Superman's hands covering his sensitive ears as the music must sound to him even louder.

Batman very much only looped one thought in his head. -It's only for world ending purpose, I cannot use it right now.-

He had a responsibility to uphold, he was the patriarch of the earth branch family. This was not something that required him to use that. No he would not use it. He refused. This was not a world ending matter. Surely Constantine or anyone else of the Justice League Dark would solve this problem any second now.

The screens flicker and Batman did anything he could in his mind to not let his eye twitch even if no one would be able to see it. Cat videos were playing where second earlier statistics and observatory programs had been running.

No he would not, they could handle this problem no need to involve family.

The music stopped and some of his hero colleagues let out a relieved sigh only for a familiar laugh to echo through the watchtower and a new song starting to play. One that apparently counts all 100 dumb ways to die.

"Why is Klarion even targeting the watchtower like this?!" The Flash shouted over the lyrics before turning to him.

"Did one of your kids piss him off or something?!"

"No." At least not as far as he knew, though considering the recent discovery as well as the surprise visits his uncle had done lately he might have a guess why the witch boy was targeting them right now. Didn't mean he would elaborate this reason to the other heroes present.

Before Wonder Woman could comment John Constantine stormed in the room and slammed his hands down onto the table staring right at Batman with blood shot eyes. "Call him."

"Who?"

"Don't play fucking dumb bats. You know who I mean. This is not the witch brat alone. There is another entity and if you don't want the fucking watchtower crashing into earth you call him right now."

"Bats, he is not talking about who I think he is?" Superman carefully asked while the other heroes looked at him just as questionable.

He held his staring contest with Constantine a little longer before he grunted and reached into his utility belt pulling out a small bat-shaped pendant. A personalized upgraded calling card, his uncle had gifted to him as well as each of his children and extended family members.

This was not how he imagined a meeting in regards to his new discoveries and a possible sure fire contingency plan against world ending emergencies would go. He rubbed his thumb against the engraving waiting for a short moment for it to pulse, before tapping the pendant three times, paused and tapped it two more times. This was a non-emergency call, even if his colleagues might disagree.

He still thought they could very well handle this situation without the help of his uncle.

"BABY BAT, YOU CALLED THIS IS THE FIRST TIME YOU DID!"

The present heroes watched in stunned fashion how a white haired, 20 years old man stepped out of a green portal and instantly zoomed across the room to hug THE Batman around his head rubbing his cheek against the bat's cowl mindful of the pointy parts.

And Batman was letting the man do that only looking resigned.

"We agreed that I would only call on you with this pendant for emergencies."

The white haired man only hummed before his head turned sharply and green glowing eyes narrowed at Constantine, who visibly paled and took a step back standing straight and looking very much like he regretted what he had asked Batman to do. "Trading game is not being rude to you is he?"

The bat only grunted and the white haired man finally let go of him, humming as he took in his surroundings, eyes glinting in mischievously as he saw the flickering lights, animal videos on screen and heard the blaring music over the speaker. "When I okey-ed Klarion to go playing with his cousins I didn't think he would seek you two out. He had been talking about his older cousins starting another game of 'who's the better demon lord' in different dimensions. I thought he was joining their bet."

Wait did he say two? Batman grunted and the white haired guy chuckled. "I will be back in a second."

Not even the Flash could react as fast as the white haired man disappeared and reappeared with Klarion next to him. Clearly pulling on the witch boy's ear like a father would when their child had been naughty. The flickering lights and blaring of music over the speakers had stopped.

"Ow DAD what in the name of chaos are you doing here."

"Your Cousin called me. You are disturbing his work and risking them crashing into earth with Technus' help."

"YOU SNITCHED TO MY DAD?!"

"Hn."

"Technus get out of their network or I will lock you up on a Medieval Island for three decades."

As if the present heroes weren't confused enough a face appeared on one of the screens. Glaring at the white haired man. "You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me, if you stay in there any longer. I will also dig out the old thermos and soup you additionally for a decade or more."

The face on screen grumbled and the heroes nearly flinched back as a ghostly, green skinned man came out of it, looking every bit frustrated and annoyed. "I was just getting a good look at this modern technology, you have banned me from any big shot Industries…"

"We had that discussion 100 years ago, Technus. Back to the Ghost Zone." The white haired man commanded by opening a portal next to them with the wave of his hand and surprisingly, the green skinned guy listened.

"Sorry about this Baby Bat and Little Demi. Klarion will be grounded for a bit and re-educated in how to bond without risking potentially killing any bystanders. Oh and remember I will come by later for Baby Ghost to get his checkup with Frostbite!"

"Dad, please no grounding! Anything but that!"

"I am sure your Grandpa will be happy to have your help during your grounding."

"Dad! NO! I don't want to keep time in order! I live for chaos not order!"

The man was just smiling and completely ignoring Klarion's complains as he turned towards Batman and Wonder Woman, for reasons the hero's didn't understand.

"Well we will be on our way then Baby Bat, Little Demi!"

Batman grunted and the white haired man chuckled, leaving through the portal and dragging along a whining Klarion, who apparently was that man's son.

Just before the portal closed, the man stuck his head back out looking towards Wonder Woman with a mischievous smile. "Oh before I forget! Pops Clockwork sents his regards Little Demi . He doesn't want me saying this, but he is glad about the path you choose. Says you're set on a pretty good timeline!"

The head disappeared into the portal again and it finally closed. Wonder Woman was left blinking at the empty space, her mouth slightly open with the silent question of "What?"

"Bats, who was that?" The Flash was the first to break the silence that had followed as eyes turned to the dark knight.

"His Uncle." / "The Ghost King."

Superman and Constantine spoke at the same time. The JLD member flinched back as he looked at the glowering bat. Muttering something the man took his leave or rather escaped the room as quickly as possible as Batman kept glaring. Meanwhile Wonder Woman was slowly having a crisis of her own as suddenly family relations that had been hinted to her through Pandora made sense. "Clockwork... no, Titan Cronus? The Ghost King... Uncle Daniel?"

Chaos broke among the present heroes.

"WHAT UNCLE?!"

[uvobreakmylegs]

Dark Light Within

part two of Lamp of the Body

Chrollo x female!reader

Part 1

Warnings: trauma, mentions of death, mentions of murder, manipulation. unhealthy relationships, smut, oral (male receiving), choking

Word Count: 12.1k

In the days that followed the compromise you and Chrollo had come to, you found that you were doing well. Over that period, the nightmares stopped and you actually got a few full nights of sleep for the first time in a long while. Finally you had mornings where you woke up feeling completely refreshed and ready for the day, and you had the energy to do more around the apartment as well, happy to no longer be stuck doing one or two tasks you'd set for yourself before you inevitably needed to take a break and recharge.

Admittedly, it was a bit performative as you were trying your hardest to prove that you were okay. That the days of you feeling exhausted from a restless night were over with and had only ever been a temporary problem, one that had solved itself. That Chrollo didn't need to move away from the city for your sake and that the both of you could continue to live here as you had been.

Soon enough, you'd be able to go out again, you were sure of it.

Chrollo obviously noticed your change in mood as he commented on it one evening while you were rinsing off the plate you had used for dinner.

“You seem a bit better recently,” he said.

“I've been feeling better,” you answered.

“That's a relief,” he replied, smiling as he added “maybe I was a bit hasty in my suggestion to move.”

“Maybe,” you repeated, “it's a good thing we held off on that. We saved ourselves from a lot of hassle.”

“So it seems,” he agreed.

You went to bed that night feeling good about yourself.

The fact that the nightmares started up again that very night was ironic. Or it would've been, were it not for the fact that they now felt worse than ever. The new constant was the figure being on top of you, their hands around your throat, squeezing and letting go only to repeat the process over and over again. You always woke up in the middle of the night now, feeling worn out and terrified.

During the times that Chrollo would wake up after you and asked what was wrong, you came up with excuses, mostly claiming that you were feeling restless and joking about how your internal clock was wired wrong since you could no longer get any sleep at night. The look in his eyes told you that he didn't believe you, but he would accept your explanation regardless, even if it seemed to be reluctant.

You just wanted to be okay again.

You were in a good place now; there was no reason for these attacks from your subconscious to continue as they did. They needed to stop so you'd be better, so you could go back to the way things had been before.

Get over it already

But as much as you tried to will yourself into better health, it just wasn't happening. Not on its own. And it was clear that Chrollo could see that. Even without his ability to be as insanely perceptive as he was, no doubt anyone could see that you were tired.

He'd held off on any major discussion of it, but there were comments made here and there that let you know what he thought: that you should stop being so stubborn and putting yourself through unnecessary stress, though you doubted he would ever use such wording. The next time the two of you sat down to actually talk about the issue, you knew you would lose. He had a million reasons as to why his decision was correct and there wouldn't be anything you could do to prove otherwise.

That was what drove you to an impulsive decision.

It came on a day where Chrollo was away running errands; nothing that would last too long, so he had no need to call in any more favors from his friends. And no one else being around you meant that there was no one that would keep you from going out.

It wouldn't be anything major. You were just stepping outside of the building. In your mind, being able to do that without any negative affects would prove that things were okay.

Nothing bad would happen, you told yourself. It was killing two birds with one stone, actually. You would prove that you were doing okay by leaving the apartment while also getting a much needed breath of fresh air. Of course, Chrollo would have argued on the second point that you could've gotten that by going out onto the deck outside your apartment. But that wasn't the same as walking around freely. That was probably part of your problem; that he'd essentially kept you under house arrest out of concern for your safety. Although his concern was appreciated, it felt like that was probably part of why you weren't doing well. Being locked inside had left you feeling stir-crazy, which didn't do any good for your mental state during a time that you were supposed to be recovering.

Dreams and nightmares have meanings, you remembered hearing. Maybe you being paralyzed and the figure that watched you was a representation of your deteriorating health while being kept trapped.

…. It probably wasn't that deep. Your mind was just running with random thoughts because it didn't have anything better to do. Again, another sign that staying cooped up was bad for you, regardless of what Chrollo told you.

It didn't feel good to sneak around him, but surely if you did this, he might ease up a little.

That thought had you feeling pretty good as you made your way down to the apartment lobby, pushing the button for the ground floor of the elevator and absentmindedly humming to yourself to pass the time as the elevator began made its descent. The last time you'd been out was when you were returning from the Dentora Region in Padokea, and you hadn't seen any of it as Chrollo wanted you to keep a bandage over your eyes until it was safe to remove, which was, of course, after you were back home.

There were two others present when you entered the lobby: a woman you didn't recognize who seemed to be a resident like yourself and a receptionist stationed at the desk. They were chatting with one another and didn't pay much attention to you when you walked past them. Heading towards the main doors of the building, you only glanced at them for a moment longer before bringing your attention to what was in front of you. Through the glass doors, you saw the street outside, the people who were walking along the sidewalk and the traffic in the streets.

Perfectly normal, nothing to be worried about.

But when you grasped the handlebar of the door was when you froze, and you stayed in place as you fully took in the sight before you.

The sad part was that nothing had really happened.

There was no dramatic scene outside that made you pause, no recreation of your accident with you being a bystander this time – it was simply a normal day outside in the city streets that were teeming with traffic.

And yet after that sight had set in, you stopped in your tracks.

Why? Nothing bad had happened. You'd been out before. Very briefly and while you were being transported to and from different hospitals and airports with Chrollo at your side, but still, dread filled you when you looked upon that street. Your hand gripped the handlebar so hard that your knuckles paled and your breathing got heavier.

Maybe it was because you were alone, because Chrollo wasn't here.

From behind, you heard the woman at the counter saying something that seemed to be directed at you. You couldn't hear it clearly. Then she got closer, and she said something else when she stood next to you. By that point, her words were background noise.

You weren't able to focus.

Suddenly you were in the backseat of that taxi, checking the weather forecast on your phone while some advertisement played on the car's radio. The driver was chatting with you about something mundane and unimportant while you half-listened to him, adding in some commentary of your own from time to time. Everything was fine.

Then the driver made a left turn and you heard him shout.

You looked up in time to see an oncoming car hit the taxi head on.

Then nothing.

Just the feeling of waking up with a curtain of darkness over your eyes that refused to lift.

This was a bad idea

Go back upstairs, you told yourself. Go back up and if you need to have a breakdown, do it in the comfort of your own home. Go back up.

Those thoughts ran through your head as you continued to look at the scene outside, unable to move.

Go back up.

“What's wrong with your eyes?”

You didn't really understand the question at first; all you knew was that someone was talking to you and you looked over to find that the woman was standing next to you. Better to apologize if she thought you were behaving strangely and to explain what had happened to you a year ago. Surely she and the receptionist would understand, and they would encourage you to go back up so you could recover in private.

But when you looked to the woman, you found that her expressions wasn't one of worry, but that of being disturbed, or even fearful, and she took a step back when you looked at her. When you glanced over to the receptionist who was still seated at their desk, they seemed confused until you made eye contact, and then their expression mirrored that of the woman.

They both looked at you like there was something wrong with you.

“Seriously,” the woman said, “what the hell is wrong with your eyes?”

You heard the question, but again, it didn't register. All you saw were the disturbed gazes of the two before you, and all you wanted in that moment was to get away from them.

Without saying anything, you made your way back to the elevator, pushing the button to summon it and hoping it would come down quick.

It didn't.

And with the two still staring at you for a few more agonizing moments and you feeling like you could tear and claw at your own skin as you desperately wanted them to stop fucking looking at you, you opted to take the stairs back up to your level. Before the door closed behind you, you heard them talking in hushed whispers almost immediately after you were out of sight.

You felt your heart rate increase on hearing that.

You were lucky enough to not run into anyone else on your way back to your unit, though you didn't feel that way when you slammed the door shut and leaned against it after, supporting yourself while you tried to level out your breathing. What just happened? Why did you freak out? How could you still be so unprepared for life outside these walls?

Why did those two look at you like that?

You had no clue. What was that woman even talking about?

Still no clue. Your throat felt dry, though.

Pushing yourself off the door, you made your way to the kitchen. A glass of water should fix that. And maybe getting some fluids into you would help you feel better after that ordeal.

On your way to the kitchen you caught sight of something strange in the reflection of a decorative mirror that hung on the wall as you passed by. Something that looked red.

You paused after you passed it, then took a step back and looked into the mirror.

Your heart could've stopped in that moment.

Where you should've seen two gray eyes in your skull looking back at you, the color you saw in the irises was red. Two violent, bloody red eyes staring back at you, and you saw clearly when your expression grew distraught as you backed away from the mirror.

Why?

In an effort to tell whether or not you were dreaming, you dug your nails into the skin of your arm, just enough to cause you pain. If this was just a dream, the pain would be enough to snap you out of it and bring you back to reality. But as the minor amount of pain made itself known in the flesh of your arms, the image before you stayed the same: you, looking back at yourself in the mirror, and a pair of red eyes in your skull.

Why?

Not convinced that what you were seeing was real, you ran to the bathroom, wanting to see if those eyes would appear in the mirror in that one, too.

They did.

Why?

Desperate to be wrong, you went to the bedroom and pulled out a hand mirror, wanting to believe that somehow, the other mirrors had been tampered with and that this one would show you the truth.

The same bloody red eyes stared back at you a third time.

Why?

Panic overtook you. Your heartbeat was thundering in your ears and you felt so light-headed that you ended up on the floor, sinking your fingers into your scalp while you breathed hard in and out through your mouth. Why was this happening?

What happened in the moments after that point was hard to remember exactly. You were so wrapped up in your panic that you didn't notice when time passed or when someone entered the room.

Chrollo found you on the floor of your bedroom, still staring at the image in the hand mirror that lay in front of you while you cried. He spoke your name as he placed both hands on your shoulders, and that snapped you out of it, looking up at him as you finally realized that you weren't alone anymore.

He stared at you for a moment before saying “it's alright now,” and pulling you against his chest. Without another thought you grabbed at him, holding onto him while you continued to cry. How long he held you like that was also unclear, but once you felt a bit more calm, you noticed that the sun was lower in the sky now than it had been when you first ventured out. Eventually your sobs quieted and your breathing became more regular.

Sensing that you were doing better, Chrollo gently pulled you away, caressing your cheek as he asked “what happened?”

After taking a few breaths, you spoke.

“I'm sorry,” you began, “I wanted to go out. I thought I'd be okay, but when I got down there…. I don't know, I freaked out.”

That wasn't the issue, you remembered. It was your eyes.

Your eyes. That he clearly saw.

You felt stupid. It would've been the first thing he noticed. You were looking right at him, and currently, his expression was neutral. Had it not hit him yet how strange it was? Would he have a similar reaction to the two downstairs? The thought of Chrollo looking at you like that almost sent you into an entirely new panic. But you shoved that down as you forced yourself to speak.

“You can see them, right?” you asked, “my eyes.”

He nodded slowly, but said nothing.

That only made your panic worse.

“I don't – I don't know why this is happening,” you stammered, “I don't know why this happened, what could've caused it. I swear this hasn't-”

Chrollo brought a hand up, and you stopped talking.

“First things first; we should get off the floor,” he told you.

Taking both of your hands into his, he pulled you to your feet and kept his grip firm on you when you stumbled. Once you were steady, he led you out of the bedroom and took you to the kitchen, where he sat you down at the table before pouring you a glass of water and urging you to drink it. You did as he told you, and as you downed the glass, he pulled up a chair to sit closer to you, keeping a hand on your shoulder as he watched your expressions. The water and his touch had you feeling more at ease.

When you placed the glass back down, he asked “are you feeling better?”

“Sort of.”

You reached up to touch the area beneath your eye, asking “but I don't understand why this is happening.”

Upon hearing that, Chrollo's hand that had been softly rubbing your shoulder stilled, and you looked back to find a resigned look on his face.

“Chrollo?”

“It's alright, love,” he said, “you were going to find out sooner or later.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you asked “find out what?”

Chrollo considered you for a moment before he spoke again, saying “I'm afraid I have a confession to make.”

“Confession?” you repeated.

“About the origins of your current eyes.”

You weren't sure where this was going, so you stayed quiet and waited for him to explain further. But instead, he asked you a question.

“Have you ever heard of the Kurta clan?”

Your eyebrows furrowed again as you shook your head.

“That isn't too surprising. They were a very small, secluded group of people that lived on the other side of the world,” Chrollo explained, “there isn't much known about them due to the way they isolated themselves, but the main thing that was known was what would happen to their eyes once they became agitated or upset in some way.”

What he was saying clicked for you as you asked “they turned red?”

He nodded.

Part of you wanted to feel relieved. Technically speaking, it wasn't so bad. Sure, it would be inconvenient for your eyes to turn red whenever you become upset, and learning to manage that would be difficult, but it could be worse. At the same time, however, you didn't understand why Chrollo had kept this from you. Since he had labeled this as a 'confession', there was no way for him to claim ignorance about the eyes. Maybe keeping this from you for the first few weeks was somewhat reasonable, but to stay silent for all this time? What reason could there be?

“…. So my eyes came from a donor from that clan?” you asked.

You didn't like the way he frowned after you said that, and the sinking feeling you were having only got worse.

“I'm afraid that the story is far more gruesome, love,” he began.

“How?”

“The scarlet eyes were considered by many to be a wonder of sorts, and the way the Kurta hid away from the outside world only made those people want to see them even more.”

You said nothing, but you couldn't help but note that he had referred to the Kurta in the past tense this entire time.

“It ended with the Kurta being massacred several years ago, and the eyes of those that had stayed red after death were harvested and sold on the black market.”

“Black market – people buy them?” you asked, incredulous and not sure what point you should address first.

“They're considered to be a collector's item,” Chrollo explained, “and their value tends to be high, given that there are only thirty six pairs in existence.”

Then he added “although now the number of eyes that one can buy has dropped to thirty five.”

It all clicked into place in that moment, and no words could escape you. All you could do was stare at Chrollo in shock.

He didn't fault you for that as he continued to speak.

“I'm sorry, love. I knew you wouldn't be happy once you learned the history behind them, but after realizing that you may never be able to see again, I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

You didn't know what to say, and your hand returned to your cheek as you processed what he'd just said. Things made sense now. Why he didn't want you going out. Why he made sure you weren't alone for any long periods of time. Why he wanted you to leave the city with him. All it would take was one really bad moment out in public and you would become a spectacle. Like what had happened downstairs in the lobby.

Just how long was he planning on keeping this from you?

Fuck

None of what he'd just told you could've been legal. He said that the eyes were sold on the black market, right? How many crimes had Chrollo committed to help you?

He must have sensed that your thinking at that moment was something along those lines, as he made a point to assure you that nothing bad would come from any of it, that he'd been thorough in making sure nothing would lead back to either of you. That no one knew he'd gotten the eyes aside from the specialist in Padokea, and that they'd been paid to not talk about it. Everything would be fine as long as the two of you were careful.

Everything would be fine.

He'd said that a lot during the past few months, and him telling you that had done a lot to keep you calm. Your thoughts went back to the many, many times he had his hand in yours as he said that, and how at peace you felt when you heard him say that.

And as for right now…. You still wanted that. Chrollo brought about a certain sense of security with him, and as you weren't sure how to take in this new information, it would've made you feel better to feel his touch and have his arms around you again as you decided what would've been the best way to react to all of this.

It didn't feel like you could do that right now as another question was on your lips.

“You bought the eyes of a murder victim off the black market?” you asked.

He was quick to respond.

“I know it sounds nasty, but it was for the best, love,” he answered, “there's nothing that can be done for that person who died, but their eyes can be put to good use for your sake.”

….. You didn't know how to reply to that. And despite his attempts to continue to talk to you, you weren't able to say anything else.

This was all too overwhelming.

You needed some time alone.

When you began to stand up and pull out of his grip, he spoke your name. But you didn't let him get any further as you interrupted him.

“I'm not leaving or doing anything stupid. I just need some time to process this on my own,” you told him.

He didn't seem happy about it, but he let you go and didn't follow after when you walked back to the bedroom and shut the door behind you, though he watched you the entire time. Once you entered, your gaze immediately went to the hand mirror that you had left behind on the floor earlier, and you approached it tentatively, scared of the sight you might find in it again.

Relief hit you when you looked into the mirror and found that the red color had dulled. It wasn't gone completely, but it wasn't as vibrant as before. Hopefully it'd be gone completely soon.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, and you settled down onto the edge of the bed.

….. The room felt stuffy.

Being on your own wasn't enough. After spending who knows how long in here freaking out, you needed out of this room completely.

The door that opened up to the balcony slid open and you stepped out. Taking in a deep breath as you got the fresh air you'd failed to get earlier, you sat down on the balcony flooring and wrapped your arms around your legs before resting your chin on your knees as you collected your thoughts.

How the fuck had you ended up in this situation?

In the span of a single conversation, you'd found out that your boyfriend of several years had done dealings on the black market by buying the eyes of someone who had been murdered. You'd learned of a clan who seemed to have been driven into extinction because people decided it was better to cut out and pickle their eyes like collectibles, and then that your boyfriend had essentially used one of those pairs of eyes as spare parts so you could go back to the way you'd been before the accident.

Where do you even begin to unpack all of that?

Legally, all of this was wrong. Buying body parts was illegal, and getting involved with the black market and possibly the mafia would be opening up a whole world of potential trouble. How much had all of that cost? The eyes along with whatever he had paid that specialist in Padokea – how much had you drained him financially? You knew Chrollo did well with his job, but would there be any resentment on his part for how much you had cost him?

You hadn't noticed anything off about him, but then again, Chrollo was good at hiding things. This revelation was proof of that.

And then the eyes themselves. Or rather, where they had come from. You'd assumed that they had come from someone who'd been in an accident and had signed up for organ donation. That had made you a bit more comfortable with the idea, that the eyes had belonged to someone who didn't want them to go to waste. Now that you knew what had really happened, it felt morally wrong that you were using them. Someone had died for something as silly as preserving an eye color, and now their eyes had been used just so you could see again.

Spare parts.

Those words came to mind again and you felt guilt for it.

If only that accident hadn't happened. If only you hadn't gone out that day. If only, if only.

You pressed your head against your knees while wrapping your arms tighter. Fat lot of good that kind of thinking did.

The door to the balcony slid open, and you turned your head to find Chrollo standing outside. He had one of your hoodies in hand which he held out to you.

“It's cold out, love,” he said, “wear this.”

You didn't feel that cold, but you accepted the hoodie anyway and gave him a soft “thank you” in response.

He seemed pensive as he watched you pull the hoodie on.

“Do you still need to be alone?” he asked.

It hadn't been that long since you separated yourself from him – it was a few minutes at best – yet you answered “I don't know.”

He hummed as he shut the door behind him and took a place next to you on the balcony, both of you sitting on the floor while you looked out at the buildings across the way. You glanced over at him a few times, only to find that you couldn't really read him in that moment. Your worry from earlier reared its head again – was he mad at you? Did he feel like he'd spent so much time, effort and money only for you to turn out to be an ingrate? What would happen if that was the case?

“Are you angry with me?” you asked. Your nails were digging into the skin of your leg, scared of what his answer might be.

“Of course not, love.”

Chrollo pulled your hand away from your leg and held it, clearly not wanting to see you hurt yourself.

“I should be the one asking if you're upset with me,” he then said.

He kept his eyes on you while your gaze stayed on the city as you thought over what he'd said.

Were you upset?

Yeah.

But how much of that was directed at him?

“I don't think so,” you answered.

“You don't think so?”

It took you a moment to collect your thoughts before you were able to get the words out.

“I don't want to sound ungrateful, because I'm really happy that I got my eyesight back, and it also makes me really happy that you would do so much just for me, that I matter enough for you to go that far,” you began.

“But it's really scary that you would involve yourself with criminals.”

He stayed quiet as you continued.

“I don't want you to get involved with dangerous people and get hurt for my sake. It would kill me if someone went after you because you bought the eyes just so I could see again. If I had known that was what you were going to do to help me, I would've told you not to go through with it.”

Chrollo seemed thoughtful as he considered your words.

“I suppose I wasn't thinking about that,” he told you, “all I could think about was how I could help you.”

That was sweet, you had to admit. And it made you feel guilty for pulling away from him earlier. He was just trying to help, right?

“What made you go that far?” you asked.

“That's a silly question, don't you think? Why wouldn't I do everything in my power for your sake?”

…. That also made sense. And you knew that if the positions were reversed, you would want to do everything you could to help him if he needed it.

The whole issue of the eyes themselves was still strange, however.

“Why didn't you tell me that the eyes would change color?” you asked.

“I wasn't sure they would change at first,” he said, “when they were preserved, they were permanently stuck in their red form. It was quite surprising when you first opened your eyes and I saw that they were gray.”

Had he seemed surprised when you took off the bandages? You couldn't recall; being able to see again had been too overwhelming for you to remember much of how he'd been acting during that time.

“Did you ever realize before this point that they could still turn red?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

For once, your boyfriend didn't seem to know how to respond. An unusual sight to see, for sure.

“I was going to once we left the city,” he eventually said, “I thought it'd be good to do it then once we were in an environment that was better for you.”

“I think I would've preferred you told me before this.”

“That's understandable. And for that, I'm sorry.”

Chrollo squeezed your hand gently as he added “thinking on it now, I was using that as an excuse to put off telling you about it. I couldn't think of any way to ease you into revealing the truth.”

He had a point there. As hard as you tried, you couldn't think of any way to open up a conversation like that.

He still should have told you, though.

But there wasn't much you could do about it, so all you said was “at least I know now.”

Chrollo was oddly quiet once again.

“Can I ask you about something else?” you added.

“Of course.”

“Was the specialist you took me to also involved with criminal stuff?” you asked.

“There were no legal avenues I could take to restore your vision, love.”

That made sense. It explained why the doctors at the hospital you'd gone to told you there was nothing that could be done. It was also scary; Chrollo had entrusted everything to some shady individual who operated outside of the legal limits. What if something had gone horribly wrong? What if they'd done something to you and you were left off worse than you were after the accident?

But Chrollo wouldn't have let that happen.

You needed to believe that.

The two of you remained quiet. Your brain couldn't come up with any other questions at that moment, and Chrollo was waiting for you to speak.

Not long after he took the initiative to ask a question of his own.

“What else is bothering you?” he asked.

“…. I feel guilty,” you said.

“Because of how the scarlet eyes came to be available?”

“Yeah.”

“You shouldn't,” he said, “after all, you didn't have anything to do with what happened to those people.

“I know that,” you began, “but I just feel like the person who had the eyes originally would be mad that I was using them. They died because of their eyes, and then I end up using them like they're spare parts for a car.”

“That's quite a pessimistic view.”

“Doesn't mean it's wrong.”

“True, but think of it this way, love,” he continued, “instead of leaving their eyes floating in jars to be gawked at, you're putting them to good use. I'm sure that, whoever they were, the Kurta Clan member would have preferred that someone actually use their eyes as opposed to allowing them to gather dust while they sat on someone's shelf as a decoration.”

…. It did make it sound a bit better, but it wasn't like the guilt could be pushed aside just like that.

That would likely be something else you'd need to learn to live with.

“Are you sure you're not mad at me?” you asked.

“Not at all,” he told you, “I know that the steps I took to help you are ones most consider to be wrong, and I understand the guilt you feel after finding out where the eyes came from. But I hope that you also understand that I did what I did because I wanted to help you.”

“I do. And I really am grateful.”

You sighed, adding “I just wish that accident had never happened. Then we wouldn't even need to have this discussion.”

“I know.”

With that, Chrollo squeezed your hand softly again, just like he had during those long days from before. That made you feel a bit better.

“Can you just promise me something?”

“Promise you what, love?” Chrollo asked.

“That you won't buy human body parts off the black market again. Or anything similar to that. Even if you're just trying to help me,” you said.

To that, he smiled, and brought your hand up to his mouth so he could kiss it.

“I promise I'll never buy body parts off the black market for any reason,” he said after.

You let out a sigh.

“Never thought I'd need to ask you something like that,” you said.

“Life is full of surprises,” said Chrollo.

“That's one way to put it,” you answered.

Sunset was quickly approaching, given the golden hue in the sky. Nightfall would come soon after, and accompanying that would be a drop in the temperature. It probably wouldn't be the greatest idea to be sitting on the floor for too much longer.

Chrollo certainly realized that as he squeezed your hand again and said “we should go back inside, love.”

You nodded.

“Okay.”

With that, he stood back up and pulled you up after. One of his hands went to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly at your skin.

“I think it's time we got started on dinner, don't you?” he asked.

You nodded again.

“And after if you'd like, we can watch one of those terrible horror movies that you enjoy so much.”

At that, you couldn't help but let out a little of a laugh.

“You must be desperate to make me feel better if you're willing to sit through one of those with me,” you said.

“Whatever it takes to make you happy,” he answered, jokingly adding “even if I feel my brain cells slowly shriveling up while I sit through the trash you make me watch.”

“Rude.”

“It's the truth, love.”

You laughed again as he led you inside. This felt good. The normal, playful banter between you two that signified that things were fine. As questionable as everything he'd revealed had been, you didn't want to think about it much right now. It was easier to push it to the side and focus on other things. Like the intentionally awful movie you'd pick for him to roll his eyes at.

But as you were considering that, another thought came to mind.

“Actually….”

Chrollo turned to you after shutting the balcony door, tilting his head in question.

“After dinner, would you read to me?” you asked.

He smiled.

“Of course, love.”

After dinner, the two of you found yourselves on the couch, with you resting your head against Chrollo's shoulder while he read aloud to you, his free hand in your own and your fingers intertwined with his.

After the accident, when you'd been brought home but your leg was still in a cast, Chrollo would read to you often. With you being largely confined to the bed, he would settle down next to you as he read to you, holding out his hand so you could take it in yours. More often than not you would wrap both of your arms around his, your cheek resting on his shoulder while his hand would hold yours firmly. Those moments on their own made the days while your leg healed more bearable.

The feeling of Chrollo's hand holding yours had become a familiar one during that time. It helped a lot more than you would've anticipated – with sound alone, you weren't always sure of where he was around you, but the feeling of his hand in yours while he talked with you or read aloud to you helped you to know for certain that he was by your side.

That he really wouldn't leave you.

He stopped suddenly in the middle of his reading, and you looked up to find his gaze on you.

“What's wrong?” you asked.

“I have to admit, I was worried,” he said, “after learning everything, I thought you may want to leave me.”

“Me? Leave you?”

That thought hadn't crossed your mind even once. While you'd been shocked and incredibly worried when it came to the black market dealings in particular, you couldn't envision any sort of future where you packed up your things and left him behind. Certain things he'd said still scared you, and maybe for some people, those admissions might be enough to make them leave. But everything that had happened, you couldn't imagine spitting in his face like that.

Even if some of what he said was scary, it wasn't like his actions had directly hurt anyone, you told yourself.

You shook your head as you said “I don't think I could live without you, Chrollo.”

The second you uttered those words he kissed you.

It was far more forceful than you'd experienced in months and the pure passion of it surprised you, leaving you slightly stunned. He held you after he pulled away, and again you were surprised, this time by how firmly he held you.

Chrollo had been that worried that your response would be to leave?

You reciprocated his hug, silently communicating that you wouldn't do that.

You sensed the way he smiled against your hair.

He understood.

The day you learned the truth about the scarlet eyes had been a hectic one, yet it had managed to end calmly. Despite that, however, a majority of the days that followed were more in line with what had happened down in the lobby: out of nowhere, something would come over you and leave you unable to function properly as you struggled to control your emotions. Sometimes it was triggered by a phobia that suddenly made itself known, other times you were once again left confused as to why it happened at all.

Maybe it was all because you knew now what would happen once you became upset and how you'd see similar reactions from others like the two downstairs. It could be really bad for you if you freaked out in public and someone from the group that killed the Kurta found out and think that they'd missed one.

It was safe to say that your desire to go back out had died completely.

Even if the chances of those killers finding out about you were slim, you decided that it was too dangerous to risk it. Especially with how out-of-control your emotions were right now. You didn't want people to know – to look at you like that again.

The only one you could depend on was Chrollo.

Your boyfriend was always quick to rush to your side when he saw you weren't doing well – now easier to tell than ever due to the mood ring quality your eyes possessed. Despite this new bought of helplessness you were now displaying, you still got no sense that he was annoyed with you over it. He was just as understanding and calm as he'd been prior.

He stared at your eyes a lot, though.

It took you a few times of it happening before you realized just how often he would stare, his gaze on the blood red color in your eyes. There was always some reason he had to pull away from you, be it to grab you something to drink or to cup your cheek and caress it softly. With that latter action, there was always the silent encouragement to turn your face up towards him, his hand ever so slightly angling your jaw so you would look at him. And when his gray eyes met your scarlet ones, you felt as though you could see something strange moving within them. Some emotion of his being betrayed despite the expression on his face showing something different.

There was some manner of fascination he had with them, you came to realize, and you wondered how long he had known of the scarlet eyes before your accident even happened.

…. At least he wasn't disgusted with you. The faces of those two in the lobby frequently came to mind, especially during those moments of duress. At least Chrollo wasn't looking at you like they had. And even if the way Chrollo would at times treat you as though you were made of glass, you knew it came from a desire to protect you, perhaps born out of whatever feelings of helplessness he had felt once he finally received word that you had been in that accident, that you had been hurt so badly while he happened to be gone.

Chrollo looking at the scarlet eyes the way he did wasn't a big deal, you told yourself.

The fact that he cared about you so deeply was more important.

The other upside during that period of time was the fact that your nightmares had stopped. Maybe that was because you were simply too exhausted from the stress to have the energy to dream. Regardless, you preferred it that way, even if your days weren't all that better.

When Chrollo broached the topic of moving again, you didn't fight him on it. There were too many stresses that came with living in the city. The last few days had made that clear. If you wanted to live a healthy life, you couldn't continue on like this, and while you were sad to leave the life the two of you had made together here, Chrollo encouraged you to think on it positively. It wouldn't be the same, but it would be better for you.

You agreed.

After that point, the panics that took over you almost daily slowly died down as you began moving preparations.

In your mind, that was because you were being moved to a place that would be better for your mental health, with less things that would stress you out. While a part of you would always be sad that you likely wouldn't be back here, the fact that your panic died down cemented to yourself that this was the right decision.

The days were filled with moving boxes and packaging. Monotonous work that left you tired and sweaty after moving around heavy boxes. Today had largely consisted of packing away a majority of Chrollo's book collection, so you were more tired than usual. After a shower, you were standing in front of the bathroom sink in the middle of your bedtime routine, ready for another dreamless sleep.

When Chrollo entered the bathroom and came up behind you, the way he wrapped his arms around you after wasn't entirely unexpected, looking at you through the mirror as he held you close to him.

You leaned into his touch, placing a hand on top of one of his as you asked “everything okay?”

He nodded.

“I'm just grateful we can still have moments like this,” he told you.

You smiled and lightly squeezed his hand as you said “me too.”

Chrollo smiled back at you.

He turned you around and placed a kiss on your lips. You returned the gesture, placing your hands on his chest as you leaned against him.

Then one of Chrollo's hands reached up to cup the back of your head while his tongue pressed against your lips in a not so subtle way of asking that you open up for him. You obliged, and his tongue was then moving against your own while his free hand wandered down and squeezed your ass. The noise of surprise you made was muffled by the kiss.

Ah.

It'd been a while for both of you, hadn't it?

With all that had been going on since your accident, with your broken leg healing up and your recovery after getting the eyes, sex had been one of the furthest things on your mind. But now that you had Chrollo's body pressed up against you and his lips on yours, you realized just how much you needed him. To have that skin on skin contact and that ache in your legs afterwards.

You wrapped your arms around his neck while your teeth nipped at his tongue that was still in your mouth. Chrollo's hands immediately went down so he could hoist you up onto the counter, opening your legs after so he could slot himself between them.

He must've been pent up as well, but had held off until he was certain that you were better.

Always looking out for you and your well-being.

You pulled away from the kiss to whisper “I love you, Chrollo.”

“I love you too,” was the response he gave before he pressed his mouth against yours once more. He seemed needier than you were used to – no doubt a result of him putting his needs aside for you. You decided then that tonight you would do whatever he wanted.

A strand of saliva kept you connected when he pulled his mouth away from yours before it broke as he stood up straight. His hands went to the hem of your shirt with the intent of pulling over your head as he looked back to you-

And then he froze.

Chrollo blinked at you, as if he was surprised. You, on the other hand, were confused by why things had stopped.

“What is it?” you asked, still a bit breathless.

“Have I upset you?”

His question confused you as you answered “what? No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Your eyes.”

“Huh?”

You turned your head so you could look at the mirror and see what he was talking about.

Oh no.

Your irises had turned red.

But why? You weren't angry or upset – you wanted this. Why had they changed color when you were fine?

Then you felt Chrollo begin to take his hands off of you, and you quickly turned your attention back to him, grabbing onto his shirt as you said “Chrollo, I'm not upset. Really. I want this, too. I promise.”

One of his hands came up to caress your cheek as he gazed into your eyes.

Then after a moment, he nodded as he said “I believe you.”

Relief filled you, and you glanced back at the mirror again, taking in the red of the irises.

“I don't know why they turned red, though,” you mumbled.

Chrollo hummed as he moved your head so he could look into your eyes again.

“Perhaps,” he began, “the Kurta eyes don't change color just from anger.”

“Wait, you mean they also turn red from….?”

You trailed off, for some reason finding yourself too embarrassed to finish the sentence. But he decided to finish it for you.

“Arousal, yes,” he confirmed.

“…. Did you know about that?” you asked.

“It's new information to me,” he answered, “I doubt that the Kurta clan would have wanted to advertise such a thing.”

“Ah, yeah. That makes sense.”

He was still staring at your eyes, not saying anything. And the longer things stayed like that, the more awkward you felt. Until he'd approached you, you weren't aware of how much you wanted him, the tiredness you'd felt moments earlier gone completely. Now that he'd stopped you desperately wanted to continue where you left off just a few moments earlier.

Did he not want to now? You'd realized that he had a fascination with them, but was adding sex into the mix too off-putting for him?

“… Does it bother you?” you asked after another beat of silence.

He smiled at you.

“On the contrary,” Chrollo said, pulling you off the counter and turning you around once again, making you squeak as he did so.

“You were upset those times before, so it seemed inappropriate to say anything about it-”His hand gripped your jaw as he made you look back at your reflection.

“-but it is a beautiful color, don't you think?”

With little other choice, you looked to the reflection of your eyes in the mirror.

The vibrant scarlet was still present, but now that you were made to really look at them, you found that the color was darkest around the outer circle of the iris, with bits of lighter shades of red speckled around going up towards your pupils. The blood red color itself was so vivid that it almost looked as though it was glowing. Your pupils dilated the longer you looked, and then you noticed another quality they had: an odd shimmer within the scarlet, like a halo that surrounded your pupil that almost seemed to have an iridescent quality to it. All of those things were odd, to say the least, yet you found that you couldn't disagree with your boyfriend's opinion.

You looked back to Chrollo through the mirror and found that he was waiting for a response from you.

“…. It is,” you agreed softly.

He smiled at you before leaning in to kiss you on the cheek.

“It really-” you were cut off when he buried his face in your neck, sucking at your skin with the intent of leaving marks. Looking at the mirror during that felt strange, so you looked to the side while you gripped at the counter.

“It really doesn't bother you?” you managed to get out when you composed yourself.

“I promise you; it doesn't.”

His free hand snaked down beneath the waistband of your pants as he said that, and you let out another squeak when his fingers began to play with your clit.

“Chrollo-”

“Keep looking, love.”

Those fingers continued playing with your clit while his other hand re-positioned itself on your jaw, making you look back at the mirror. While you did try a few times to move your jaw out of his hand, you were forced to give up as his grip was scarily strong. And when you shut your eyes as you felt Chrollo's fingers slip into your cunt, a nip on your neck forced them back open, and he whispered as he once again told you to keep looking. Remembering what you told yourself of doing what he wanted, you followed that instruction.

You saw how your fingers held tight onto the edge of the counter, unable to find purchase anywhere else. You saw how you bit your lip in frustration when Chrollo began to tease you by pushing his fingers in before immediately pulling them of you in favor of caressing the lips of your pussy. You saw how his arm moved as he delved into you again with the intent of scissoring you open. And you saw the way his eyes flashed over to look at you through the mirror when he heard the noise that escaped your mouth.

Through all of that, you found yourself always looking back to the red reflection of your eyes that only seemed to grow more vibrant.

It felt embarrassing, to be made to watch a reflection of yourself becoming a flustered mess from the way your boyfriend toyed with you while he kept you pressed against the counter. Every time his fingers brushed over a part of you that was sensitive would have you jolt against his firm chest, and every time you felt his teeth biting ever so softly into the skin of your neck had you moaning.

By now you could feel how hard he was as his erection pressed up against your ass.

His fingers were gliding out of you even easier now and your underwear was a wet mess. The heat inside of you was building up as you moved your hips against his hand, trying to get him in deeper.

Chrollo glanced up at you again through the mirror and your eyes met.

And then he stopped.

You managed to keep a frustrated whine contained within you as he pulled his hands away from you, leaning them against the counter as he remained on top of you.

“Would you do something for me?” he asked breathlessly.

“D-do what?” you asked in response that was just as breathless.

“Turn around and get on your knees for me.”

“Ah…”

He pulled away from you as you understood what it was he wanted, and though you were immediately missing the way he touched you, you told yourself not to be selfish.

The fibers of the bathroom mat protected your legs from the cool tiles of the floor as you knelt down before him. Though your hands were shaky, you went to undo his zipper before you pulled the material of his pants and underwear out of the way, allowing his cock to spring free of those confines.

You let out a soft breath as one hand went up to stroke him, fingers gliding over his length with a feather light touch. When you gripped him fully was when you felt him twitch in your hand. You continued like that, hand running along his dick while you leaned in to place a kiss at the head, licking the tip after. You heard his sharp intake of breath and saw from your peripheral vision the way his hand clenched into a fist. Remembering once again of how pent up Chrollo must've been spurred you to not waste time with teasing him and in moments you had his length in your mouth, your tongue moving against the underside of his dick and your cheeks hollowing as you sucked.

The appreciative groan that came from his lips and the gentle hand that settled in your hair after told you that you were doing good, and you closed your eyes as you continued to bob up and down his dick.

“Don't do that.”

Those words surprised you, and you stopped suddenly to look up to him, uncertain of what you'd done wrong. The intensity of his stare caught you off-guard and you pulled off of him. Or you would have had it not been for the hand that kept your head from moving any further. Within a moment, that same hand moved to caress your cheek just beneath your eye.

“Keep looking at me, love,” he said, “just like that.”

You made a noise of affirmation before you continued as you had been, keeping your eyes open this time. It felt a little awkward for you to stare at him the whole time, but if that was what he wanted, you would do it.

You wanted him to be happy with you.

His cheeks became more flushed and his breathing was getting harsher, all the while those gray eyes bore into you. Chrollo always had an odd way of seeming to look right through you, and that was no exception now. Though never had there been such an intense look of fascination and awe until now, as his eyes gazed into yours.

You would be lying if you said it wasn't slightly unsettling.

It won't always be like that, you told yourself.

It's only because it's been so long since you did this for him.

Both of Chrollo's hands ended up tangled in your hair, and he stopped your movements completely as he forced himself down your throat. A soft groan from above and the clenching of his thighs served as the signs that he was about to cum, and soon you felt his release running down your throat, forcing you to gulp as you swallowed it since he still held you in place.

When you felt him begin to soften he finally let go, pulling out of your mouth and leaning against the sink counter as he collected his breath. You watched him from your spot on the bathroom floor, your thighs pressing together while you bit your lip. Your pussy was dripping and you were desperate for him to do something about was the frustrating ache inside of you. Remembering the way Chrollo had his fingers inside of you for that brief period only made it worse, and all you wanted was for him to continue where he left off.

He noticed, smiling at you as he asked “shall I take care of you as well?”

“Yes,” you answered without any hesitation.

He laughed.

“Eager, aren't we?”

“I was a little worried you weren't going to,” you admitted.

“When have I ever been that cruel to you, love?”

He said that while holding a hand out for you, one that you took and allowed him to haul you up to your feet. You ended up leaning against his chest, wide eyes staring up at him.

Out of curiosity, you glanced over to the mirror. Your eyes were still red. What a surprise. At least you were getting used to the sight. Chrollo then turned your jaw once more so you would face him as he leaned in for a kiss.

A weird pain suddenly shot through your chest once you saw his face.

You should hate him

…. Why would you ever hate Chrollo?

You weren't given anymore time to think on that as your lips met his and your arms wrapped around his neck while you pressed yourself against him. That weird feeling was pushed down into the depths of your chest; this was all you cared about right now.

Chrollo was on top of you, his arms caging you in on the bed while he thrust his hips against yours. You were squirming beneath him, one of your hands insistent on holding onto one of his own while you did your best to minimize the amount of pained noises coming from your mouth. He knew he was being too rough; you hadn't had sex in months and he should've been more gentle. But the sight of you laying beneath him and the red Kurta eyes staring up at him so lovingly caused Chrollo to simply not care as much at the moment – as long as he didn't hurt you beyond some bruising, you would be fine. And even that could be soothed in the moment. Whenever those noises of discomfort did become too loud, Chrollo would lean back down to place tender kisses on your lips or suck on your neck, and the feeling of his lips against your skin had you mewling while you squeezed his hand.

The marks on your neck, shoulders and chest tallied up while you forgave him easily, likely in part because of the past few months and how much of a burden you must've felt like during that time, as well as because of the sheer gratitude you had towards him, that he had done so much to give you back your sight.

He could get away with being a little rough.

And as he pushed himself back up so he could stare down at you again, he once more brought his gaze to the sight of the scarlet eyes that he admired so much.

It was a surreal sight, one he had never anticipated.

Nor had he planned on using the scarlet eyes for you. Not at first.

It began after bringing you home. Determined to keep the promise he'd made to you at the hospital, he had tracked down a transmuter who had the skills to replace your old eyes with ones that worked – a pity he couldn't steal their abilities for himself – and once you were well enough to travel again, Chrollo had looked about the area where the two of you lived to find a suitable replacement. At that point his goal had been to find a pair of eyes that looked close to yours, spending a considerably long time trying to find the correct shade of your original color while you recovered under the supervision of other members of the troupe.

He thought he knew what he wanted when he found a woman who had the color you once had, and after learning her schedule and when she would be alone, he'd gathered up what he needed for the job: the blade he would use to slice her throat so he could kill without her crying out, the tools that he would use to extract her eyes from her skull without damaging them, and the jars filled with fluids that would keep the eyes preserved until they could be transferred to you.

Chrollo was moments away from ending that woman's life when he remembered that job from years prior, when he and the troupe had attacked the Kurta Clan. Handling the jars had brought the memories back, as they had brought over a hundred of them for the heist; yet most had ended up unused as they hadn't been able to kill enough of the clan members when their eyes had been in the scarlet state.

While the massacre of the Kurta Clan had been a success in the troupe's book, he had always been personally unsatisfied with the final results of that heist. There was something lacking in the end result for him, as the eyes in the jars didn't look the same as when they did in the heads of those Kurta members who had died by his hand. The vibrance that had been present in living eyes that held emotion – that was gone. After the deed was done, all he saw in the dead eyes that floated in those jars was a waste of effort.

It was disappointing, to say the least.

That was when the thought struck him: what if he gave you one of the pairs of scarlet eyes?

… It was impractical, he thought after. For one, it would require him to track down someone who had a pair of the eyes, and once he found them, he'd need to steal them and more than likely kill the owner in the process. And going through all of that would cause you to wait longer. It was much less trouble to go with what he had planned initially and settle for the eyes he had already picked for you.

There was no need to go that extra mile when you would be grateful either way.

But now that the idea had come to him, it itched in his brain. The thought of not only being able to see the scarlet eyes as they were meant to be seen, but also that you might have them.

That mental image was all he could think in that moment, and it was then that Chrollo knew that he wouldn't be satisfied with anything else. So he walked away from his would-be victim's apartment, the woman within completely unaware that a passing thought of his had saved her life.

It was more for him than it was for you. He was well aware of that. And during the time he spent tracking down one of the thirty six pairs, he was aware of the disappointment you felt at how often he was gone, though you kept those thoughts to yourself. He could tell even without Pakunoda informing him that you were desperately terrified at the thought of him leaving you. The relief you felt when he always returned was evident in your voice, your body language and the way you gripped his hand.

The stress he was putting you through his search and retrieval of the eyes was wholly unnecessary.

But he pursued it regardless, intent on making the vision in his mind a reality.

And within a relatively short amount of time, he did just that. Now not only did he have you, but he also had the sight of the scarlet eyes with the life brought back into them.

Your pussy walls fluttered around his cock and he heard you moan. This time it sounded far more pleasurable and he sensed you were getting close. Without missing a beat Chrollo moved his hand so he could rub your clit with his thumb.

That was enough to make you cum on his cock, and the legs you had wrapped around his hips clenched hard onto him while your grasping fingers intertwined with his and you rode out your high beneath him.

That shade of red truly was mesmerizing, Chrollo thought to himself, his eyes focused on yours. Everything he'd done had all been worth it just to get to this moment right now.

He reached down once your orgasm had subsided, softly petting your cheek while you breathed through your mouth. You leaned into his touch immediately, smiling up at him.

“Love,” he began, “may I finish?”

As expected, you agreed. You didn't say anything when he resumed his harsh pace from earlier; you only readjusted your grip on his hand. With another love-bite left on your neck, Chrollo pushed himself back up with his arm, staring down at you while he continued to thrust his hips and fucked you into the bed.

“You're perfect.”

He breathed those words out and you smiled, somehow managing to seem embarrassed by the compliment despite everything he'd done to you tonight, as you glanced away. Chrollo cupped your cheek, bringing your gaze back on him.

When the scarlet eyes looked up at him again he began moving faster.

This surprise you both learned about the Kurta Clan eyeballs was a welcome one. Now he didn't need to force you into a panic to see them again. No more need to use any stolen ability to get your adrenaline to rush during the day while you were left inconsolable. No more need to interrupt your sleep schedule to gaze at them during the night while you silently cried. Now if he wanted a view of those eyes all he needed to do was force you onto your knees and push his cock in your mouth.

He'd be doing that more often. Definitely.

And you would be eager and willing to do so, jumping at any chance you could to show your appreciation for all that he had done.

As Chrollo looked into your eyes, he felt as his hands moved to your throat, grabbing you and holding you just hard enough to cut off the circulation. He'd done it without thinking, continuing the habit he'd picked up from those nights he spent watching you. There was something about the way you looked up at him while he had you like this. How helpless and at his mercy you were.

Your reaction was let out a soft gasp in surprise and to move to place your own hand on his forearm. There was no attempt to pull him off.

Once more, he was fascinated by the sight. And once more, he had to wonder if those eyes had looked at him like that before when they'd been in the possession of their previous owner. If this particular set was one that he himself had collected and bottled up.

If the eyes that now gazed up at him so lovingly had once done so in hate.

His grip on your throat must have gotten too hard, as the hold you had on his forearm tightened ever so slightly while you whined. Hazy scarlet eyes stared up at him, looking up in a mixture of arousal and fear.

He fully lost control then, stopping as he pressed himself as deep as he was able while he came, his hot release spilling into you and making you whimper as you felt his cum dribbling out of you.

That was long overdue.

With that, he released his grip on your throat and relaxed, falling onto the bed next to you as he pulled himself out of your sore pussy. Your eyes were still that shade of vibrant red, and they would remain that way until your heart rate returned to normal.

As relaxed as he felt, he noticed how tense you had become, your eyebrows furrowed as though you were thinking about something unpleasant.

“Is something wrong, love?"

You blinked as you looked over to him in response to his question, looking blank for a moment before forcing a smile on your face and shaking your head. Chrollo brought his hand back up to cup your cheek, asking “are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you answered.

The way your eyes moved about told him that you weren't being entirely truthful, and he wondered for a moment just how much you were able to remember of those nights he spent gazing at you.

But before he could begin to do any sort of damage control, you spoke again, asking “Chrollo, could you do something for me?”

“Anything,” he answered.

Your smile seemed more genuine as you softly asked “will you hold me?”

Within an instant Chrollo had pulled you against his chest, cupping the back of your head with his hand as he said “you never need to ask for that.”

You hummed happily, nuzzling your face against his chest. The tenseness of your muscles melted away shortly after.

He'd been far too greedy tonight. He was so focused on the eyes and the newfound knowledge of the color also being linked to arousal that he'd wanted to drink in the sight at every moment. So much so that he'd held you down to keep you in place, something he'd never really done before the accident.

He would need to do a better job of controlling himself in the future if he wanted to keep you happy and complacent. While the chances were slim, there was always a possibility that you could learn the truth about everything: about him, about the troupe, and about who really was responsible for the death of the Kurtas.

Even with his efforts to ensure that you were heavily dependent on him, you wouldn't want to stay if you learned all of that. You might not even want those eyes in your skull anymore.

Better to not put you in situations where you could remember something unpleasant involving him and begin to put the pieces together. Keeping you happy while he kept you away from the rest of the world would be better for you, even if the alternative possibly gave him more opportunities to see that red color he admired so much. Losing the way you so eagerly clung to him wasn't worth it.

“I think we sabotaged ourselves,” you mumbled against his chest.

“Hm?”

“It's so late, and we still need to do so much. We're going to be exhausted tomorrow,” you continued.

“We'll manage,” he said, “just like we always do. Right?”

You smiled against his skin as you nodded, and Chrollo took the opportunity to place a kiss on top of your head.

“Getting some sleep is a good idea, though,” he added.

You hummed in agreement as Chrollo turned to flip the light switch, and held you once more as the room was shrouded in darkness. Moments passed before you spoke once more.

“Chrollo?”

“What is it, love?”

“Things will be better now, right?”

Chrollo smiled to himself as he answered “of course they will, love. You can trust me on that.”

[neuroticbookworm]

List of Jane's best mentor/boss moments from The Trainee episode 3

aka the list of things that make him so irresistible to me that I am going feral on main on a Sunday afternoon

Jane admonished Ryan for being late and missing the production transportation, but he did not linger on it and immediately put him to work by giving him clear and concise tasks: keep the walkie talkie with you, keep the extras on standby and put your phone on silent

When he saw that Ryan's shoelaces were becoming a recurring problem, he just got down on his knees and solved it, giving us a little glimpse into his thoughts on seniority in the workplace and how ageist ego has no place in it

He was extra patient with Ryan when his phone continued to ring on set (@lurkingshan, @twig-tea, @shortpplfedup and I were screaming our heads off at Ryan and yet Jane continued to tolerate him)

Noticing Ryan's hesitation and offering to show him how to use the walkie talkie without him asking

Trusting the rest of the interns to run B-set

When the mean extra auntie tried to pull "I'm elder than him" nonsense, Jane shut that shit down, HARDDDDD. This is such an important lesson in Asian workplaces, because the social norms around age and the respect it demands can drown young people who enter the workforce. Jane spelling it out for Ryan that his age should not hinder him from doing the job was a powerful moment and one I have rarely seen in Asian dramas, to be honest. I think this is the moment the sex-o-meter caught on fire

He was open to ideas from his intern even during a high-stress situation and even implemented Ryan's idea of using one of the support service team members as an extra to finish up the shoot! If Ryan doesn't buy him a Best Boss Ever mug, I'm gonna be so mad at him

He covered for Pie and took the blame himself when the client expressed dissatisfaction (read: scolded everyone like children). He shielded her from the real-world-shitstorm-stress that would 100% be Too Much for an intern to deal with, while also teaching the interns the importance of teamwork and not throwing people under the bus

After wrapping up, Jane made sure Ryan did not leave the set feeling inadequate from his mistakes, and instead encouraged him to see himself as a cog in a bigger machine. Everyone's contribution is important, and no one in a team can work completely alone.

And finally, he told Ryan that he would not hesitate to apologize to him in the future if he makes a mistake. Because, say it with him now...

Jane is extremely competent and is a compassionate mentor, which makes him so fucking sexy that my braincells are constantly at risk of spontaneous combustion

[deardoiloveyou]

HP boys' pet names for u ₊˚⊹♡

Notes: fluff, pet names used, heavily referencing goblet of fire,

Characters: harry pottah, draco malfoy, ron weasley, weasley twins

Harry

Harry just looked at you lovingly through his fogged up glasses, it was a cold and snowy day, the perfect weather - to you at least. Harry's cold and numb fingers entangled with yours,

"You look lovely, beautiful."

You couldn't tell which was better. The fact he called you beautiful or that he complimented you, as embarrassed and flustered as you were - it couldn't top Harry's amount of flustered feelings towards you.

Although he gave you his usual toothy grin, he was screaming internally. Your hands were so tender to his - and your cheeks were flushed with a pink the shade of your lips, it was so perfect.

You replied bashfully, hoping you didn't sound too awkward, "Thank you, Harry... you look just as lovely."

Harry thought he was about to pass out - and not from hypothermia. A compliment? From you? Oh my gosh, he was gonna be escorted to Madam Pompfrey's again. (You visited him there often, as he seemingly made Madam Pompfrey's infirmary his second home).

"Shouldn't we get back inside now? I'm sure you'll want to find out what your last task is..." The mention of the tournament left him sick - although he had been successful with the last tasks, it was all narrowly avoided punishments. You knew this of course, but you also knew that Harry, himself, was incredible just on his own. Harry loved you for this so very much. He wanted you to kiss him ever so badly, so when you softly pecked his cheek with those tender and soft lips he couldn't stop staring at - he wanted to run away and never look back.

"Hey, I love you, y/n"

Draco

"Yeh jus' so pretty, love"

You were semi-bickering with Draco about how often he just sits there and stares at you, his eyes all soft, he couldn't stop smiling when around you.

" Merlin's beard, Draco, look you're doing it again..."

Draco looked at you again - with those soft and brain melting eyes, "Huh? What am I doing again...? Sorry, love" Draco looked at you obliviously, clearly zoned out and letting his eyes wander you eternally.

You held up a pretty good argument, but when Draco used the nickname "love" for you, ugh, you just lost it. You wanted his hands to intertwine with yours, never letting go, only warm and joyous feelings entangling between you two. Well that was at least your first instincts, but you had to resist - right? Well suddenly your entire grumpy expression lifted and now it felt like a joke to you, so stupid actually, you just wanted to throw yourself into Draco's arms.

Apparently this feeling was very obvious to Draco because before you could even attempt to start up your argument again - Draco kissed you. So passionately and hungrily, he was kissing you as if it were his last dying wish. You pulled away - panting, you had almost completely forgotten why the two of you were arguing in the first place.

"Draco- stop... you can't solve all my problems just by kis-." Before you could finish your sentence, Draco wrapped his arms around you.

"Let's just forget about it, love?" Draco just wanted to feel your touch. He could never get enough of you, and he would never get tired of you saying "I love you", which he so desperately wanted you to say.

You rolled your eyes, yet you still grinned mischievously. You couldn't hold back anymore, gently wrapping your arms around Draco, you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. You truly loved each other.

"I love you, y/n."

Ron

Ron was used to your affectionate behaviors', as well as your sweet nicknames for him (although he did not like Ronnie-kins), so he liked returning back the feelings. Yet you never seemed to expect him to say,

"G'morning, sweetheart."

Your face completely flushed with red. You wanted to reply - but you seemingly couldn't. Butterflies felt like they were caught in your throat, you heard Ron give you sweet names before, but this? This was a whole other story. Sweetheart? He was gonna make you melt.

"Mornin', darling"

That was the only response that you could choke out. Ron's plan had completely backfired, well somewhat backfired. You were now both flustered and completely red in the face. Ron wanted nothing more than for you to pull him into a fluffy embrace, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss Ron. As if you were both reading each others' mind, you closed the gap between you two and pulled Ron into - not just an embrace, but a kiss.

The way you were both so incredibly shy after pulling away is something neither of you could comprehend. You were certainly a bright shade of red Ron had never seen before (might I say it was a brighter red than his hair). Ron felt like a dizzy mess even though he'd been up for an hour.

Ron finally took a breath and said,

"Ugh, for merlin's sake, I love you, y/n."

Weasley Twins

Both Fred and George took pleasure in giving people nicknames, Ronnie-kins was definitely one of your favorites (it was amusing to see Ron turn from hotheaded to bright red at the nickname). So, you weren't particularly surprised whenever Fred and George shortened your name in an adoring way, but you were certainly surprised when the Weasley twins said,

"Ah, hi, angel!"

"Oh, hello, sunshine!"

Merlin's beard. You thought you were about to pass out. The affectionate shortening of your name was already enough to make you turn a shade of pink, but this? This was going to make you go crazy. So, in turn, you wanted to make them go crazy as well.

"Hi, loves"

Well, instead of the twins turning the bright red you were, they just smirked and looked at each other with those same mischievous eyes. Before you could even question them as to what they were planning, Fred gave you a soft kiss on the cheek and George hugged you from behind, further turning your cheeks the same shade as your cherry lips.

Before you completely lost your voice in shock of what just happened, you managed to spit out,

"Ugh, for merlin's sake, I love you..."

"Both?"

"Both, right?"

You smirked and just rolled your eyes, you still nodded your head to the twins' delight.

A/N: I'm so sorry I've been on a mini hiatus, so much stuff has been going on and it has been stressful to say the least!! Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed these mini fics, and of course, have a lovely day<3

[saijspellhart]

Things I liked about the Netflix ATLA and some critiques:

Before you read. Please go watch the series, take off your blinders and keep an open mind. It’s surprisingly good. This review has spoilers.

They reordered some scenes so that emotional moments would have a larger pay off. Like getting to see and experience Aang’s relationship with Monk Gyatsu, and seeing his tribe before it was destroyed. So when he has his breakdown in the air temple with Sokka and Katara later, you really feel and understand his agony.

Azula is introduced earlier, with a story running simultaneously with the Aang’s journey but not involved with his. So she has a chance to be more fleshed out and explored before she becomes a major threat. Only time will tell if this more complicated Azula comes close to the animated one. Big shoes to fill, but not a bad start.

Fire Lord Ozai plays a more sinister and oppressive role. Not a faceless boogeyman anymore. You get to see his machinations and the cruel games he’s playing with his family, and see the emotional abuse that warps them.

Appa is adorable as fuck, and so is Momo. So well animated, such gorgeous care put into them.

Kyoshi, Kuruk, and Roku make more of an appearance. With Kyoshi narrating the prologue. And if you loved the novels you’ll see they incorporated more of Kyoshi and Kuruk’s backstory from the novels than what we saw in the animated cartoon.

The acting was competent, even if a little wonky at times. I found Sokka very endearing, I loved the kid they cast as Aang and you can tell they really tried to find a balance between serious and playful. They didn’t always hit it, but the effort was there.

Zuko was great. I think they nailed him and he had great chemistry with the actor playing Iroh.

King Bumi was great, I love how they made his internal struggles more complex. He wasn’t just a crazy old man anymore. He was a crazy old man who was weary and worn down by the horrors of loss and war. A crazy old man who struggled to reconcile that the best friend he lost is the avatar and wasn’t there for him.

I loved the costume and set design. It was like stepping into the actual world of ATLA. Cities were complex and well constructed. Every setting was incredible and the attention to detail was intense.

Zuko’s boat is full of artifacts he pilfered from the Air Nomads while hunting for the avatar.

They changed how Aang got the bison whistle so it makes more sense and fits more seamlessly into the story. It never made sense why a random peddler would be selling a bison whistle if air nomads and bison have been gone for 100 years. Not impossible for a peddler to do, but not probable. The Netflix series actually gave more meaning for the artifact and changed how Aang received it.

Emotional points in the show are now more intense and brought me to tears.

Commander Zhao is more competent and conniving, and his presence felt more dangerous and less comedic.

Sokka’s outright sexism was changed from putting girls down, to just manly machismo, talking himself up. Not gone, but not degrading. They decided to let the sexism message shine more prominently with the northern water tribe, rather than tackle it twice with Sokka too. (Sokka’s sexism being solved in one episode was never well written to begin with. And the animated series quickly forgot about it and moved on to him tackling more important issues, like his being a non bender inadequacy, his leadership journey, his physical combat journey, and him finding himself as more than just the funny sarcastic guy.) For time constraints, it was better the Netflix series did not to tackle the same problem twice, especially when you might not have the resources to give both sexism issues the gravity it deserves. By focusing the sexism problem to the northern water tribe they were able to give Katara more attention.

We got to see Katara’s water-bending go from being ultra sloppy and weak to badass. It feels like they are spending more time focusing on her developing into a warrior rather than being the mom of the group. I’m honestly not sad about it. She’s still the hope ridden, emotional glue, but now it feels like she explores that warrior side a little deeper. It felt so earned when she got the title of master at the northern water tribe finale.

The actor playing uncle Iroh nailed the role. I couldn’t think of a better live action adaptation of Iroh. I love him so much.

The shirshu looks fucking phemonal.

Koh was scary as fuck and I love it. They really nailed his horror elements. Even if I’m a little sad that they changed some things about his face stealing. (He eats faces now to steal them, rather than stealing when someone shows emotion.)

The three actresses who play Mei, Azula and Tailee actually look appropriate for their age. Since they are introduced earlier, they are clearly younger, and since this show is intended to get more seasons, the casting choice made sense as we are intended to watch these girls grow up over the course of the entire show. These actors will get older, and the characters will get more menacing and sharper. It’s great. It’s thoughtful. I love it.

We get to see Zuko’s dynamics with his crew more. And find out that he did more than just speak out against his father at that meeting. His outburst at that meeting saved an entire squad of soldiers, and they don’t even know it. Zuko feels such disdain and bitterness because of the situation, and his crew doesn’t even know why. It’s so complex, you can see how the abuse Zuko endured causes him to take out his anger on his crew, and in turn they are bitter back. And it’s this cycle, that festers. But the crew also grows with Zuko, they change and evolve as he evolves. And it’s such a delight to watch.

They could have cut the Secret Tunnel minstrels altogether, given the time constraints and that the episode was mostly fluff in season two. A fun romp, but not necessary. But the creators knew people loved the minstrels so they found a way to use them anyway. Because they knew they were special. I am thankful for that, even if they show up waaay earlier than they should.

I was honestly more sold on Sokka and Suki’s relationship in the live action. It’s was so adorkable. Do I wish it had more time to develop? Yeah, of course I love a good slow burn. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun as hell watching the two flirt so badly with each other. Sokka being a buffoon, and Suki overstepping and being too rough, before realizing she was being too hard.

Some Critiques:

They reordered some episode storylines to happen at the same time, and while it does bloat some episodes. it’s understandable due the episode and budget limitations. In the cartoon, during the inventor episode Katara didn’t have a lot to do, and during the freedom fighters episode Sokka didn’t have a lot to do. So they ended up combining both stories into one hour long episode in the live action, so that both Katara and Sokka would be involved in something. Is it the best? No. But it makes sense. I get it.

Katara starts off bland in the first episode and it takes a bit for her to grow into the character.

The past avatars can be a bit strong with the doom and gloom, and I wish they’d toned that back.

Koh and Heibei (I dunno how to spell the panda spirit’s name) got combined to the same episode, and Koh stole Heibei’s spotlight. Again, I understand why these got combined, but I think it could have been handled a little better and Heibei should have gotten more closure.

There should have been a ninth episode, placed between the two episode Koh storyline, and the Northern Water Tribe storyline. Why? Because the Koh storyline was really heavy and intense. And it leads right into the season finale. An extra ninth episode should have been added with a more lighthearted tone. Something to ease the tension between the two very intense storylines.

Aang should have been using a glider to flit about the temples in the first episode. But it’s not something that ruins the whole show. It was a dumb that only happens in a single episode in the season.

I really missed Momo and Appa’s presence. They appeared atleast once in every episode, but it was still sad they weren’t more of a presence. Again I understand why. They were so beautifully animated that everytime they were on screen it (without a doubt) cost the production thousands of dollars. They were generous including as many of the unique animals and creatures as they had.

I still don’t think Sokka had enough time to develop a relationship with Yue at the northern water tribe. It was rushed and contrived in the animated version, and it was rushed and contrived in this Netflix version. There also wasn’t any of the chemistry like Sokka had with Suki to make the whirlwind romance work. I never liked the romance from the original, and I wasn’t a fan of it here. But that’s ok, because it’s such a small and insignificant thing.

In conclusion most of the changes I can see made were due to budget, and episode limitations. The creators were clearly trying to bring theater-cinematic quality to what was essentially an eight hour long film. And you cannot deny that this show is stunning. Absolutely breathtaking. Most of the episodes cut were filler, and while hilarious and mostly loved by fans, were stories not as necessary in the grand scope. You could feel the love and appreciation the creators included in this series. It wasn’t soulless, it wasn’t a heartless cash grab, it wasn’t a shot for shot (thank god) but it also didn’t butcher the source material.

I understand that the animated show creators had creative differences with the live action Netflix adaptation creators. But that doesn’t mean that the Netflix series completely failed. As every fanfic writer out there knows, the original authors are not going to love what you create based on their works. Tolkien hated every adaptation of his works, HATED them. But no one is going about saying that the Lord of the Rings trilogy movies were hot garbage. A creator doesn’t have to endorse a project for it to be good.

Netflix ATLA is good, it’s not perfect. And it never was going to be perfect. The cartoon it was based on wasn’t perfect either. But the ATLA cartoon was definitely some huge shoes to fill that set a bar very high. Any adaptation was going to struggle to be just as good.

I think the Netflix adaptation was a treat and a pleasure to watch. I think people should go into it with an open mind and see that it’s not trying to replace the cartoon. It’s a love letter to the cartoon.

PS: According to behind the scenes commentary on the Nickelodeon ATLA cartoon, the reason we didn’t get a season 4 was because the creators wanted a live action film. Nickelodeon offered the original cartoon creators the option to make season 4 or to spend the budget meant for season four on a live action ATLA film. The original creators chose the live action film directed by M. Night Shamalan. They wanted a live action for their show over a 4th season. They had no idea M. night would butcher their baby with his pathetic film all those years ago.

This show was a second chance after the M. night abomination. And you know what? It’s a pretty decent adaptation. And guess what? With a resurgence of interest in the series, we are getting more animated content for the original animated series. There’s definitely something for everyone on the horizon if this succeeds.

[estapa-edwards]

TUTOR - E.EDWARDS

paring: Ethan Edwards x fem! reader

word count: 4.9k

requested? no

warnings: use of y/n. slow burn!

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The University of Michigan was a place of both challenge and opportunity, especially for those who were part of its renowned hockey team. Mark Estapa, my brother, was one of the key players on the team, and his friend Ethan Edwards was right there with him. The name Ethan Edwards was not unfamiliar to me; I had heard it countless times from Mark, usually followed by tales of impressive goals and game-winning plays.

It all started one afternoon at the hockey rink. I was there watching Mark practice, as I often did, cheering him on from the sidelines. After practice, Coach Naurato approached me, his expression serious, a stark contrast to the lively demeanor he exhibited during hockey practices.

"Y/N," he began, "I've heard from Mark how smart you are. Ethan is struggling with his academics, and I think you would be a great tutor for him. Would you consider helping him out?"

The idea caught me off guard. Ethan Edwards? The very same person who had made more than one snide remark about me in class? The thought of spending extra time with him was far from appealing.

"Coach," I hesitated, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Ethan and I don't exactly get along."

Coach Naurato sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I understand, Y/N, but I believe you're the best person to help him. Please, just think about it."

The weight of the decision pressed on me as I left the rink. The thought of helping someone who had shown me little respect was difficult to swallow. However, the importance of the hockey team to Mark, and the trust Coach Naurato placed in me, made me reconsider.

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After a few days of internal debate, I finally decided to give it a shot. I approached Ethan after our next class together, a hesitant smile on my face.

"Ethan, Coach Naurato told me about the tutoring," I started, trying to sound as friendly as possible. "I'm willing to help you out if you're serious about improving your grades."

Ethan looked surprised, his icy blue eyes narrowing slightly. "Why would you do that? We're not exactly best friends, Y/N."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my patience intact. "This isn't about us becoming friends, Ethan. It's about helping you stay on the team and doing right by Mark."

There was a moment of silence, tension hanging in the air. Finally, Ethan nodded reluctantly. "Alright, fine. When do we start?"

Our first tutoring session was nothing short of a disaster. Ethan's attitude was immediately confrontational, making the atmosphere tense and uncomfortable from the start. He slouched in his chair, arms crossed defiantly, as he looked at the math problems I had prepared for him.

"Are we ever going to use this in real life?" he scoffed, pushing the paper away from him as if it were contaminated.

I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. "Ethan, this is basic algebra. It's not just about solving for 'x'; it's about developing problem-solving skills that are essential for understanding more complex concepts later on."

Ethan rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Problem-solving skills? I've got plenty of those on the ice. What's the point of all this?"

I could feel my frustration growing, but I tried to stay focused on the task at hand. "The point, Ethan, is to help you improve academically so you can continue to play hockey. Coach Naurato believes in you, and so do I. But you have to be willing to put in the effort."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms even tighter. "Well, this is a waste of time. I don't need your help."

The session ended with both of us frustrated and no real progress made. I left the classroom that day questioning whether I was the right person for the job, doubting my ability to help someone who seemed so determined to resist. Ethan, on the other hand, seemed to revel in his own stubbornness, as if proving a point by refusing to cooperate.

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One evening, Ethan and I were deep into our tutoring session. We had been working on a particularly challenging math problem for what felt like hours, both of us growing increasingly frustrated as we struggled to find the solution.

"Just think it through step by step," I encouraged, pointing to the problem on the paper in front of us. "You're almost there, Ethan."

He looked at the problem, then back at me, a look of concentration on his face. Slowly, a spark of understanding appeared in his eyes.

"I think I've got it," he said, his voice filled with excitement.

I watched as he worked through the problem, his pencil moving quickly across the paper. And then, just like that, he arrived at the correct answer.

"Yes! I did it!" Ethan exclaimed, jumping up from his chair.

Caught up in the moment, I jumped up too, and before we knew it, we were hugging each other in celebration. It was a spontaneous, genuine expression of joy and relief, and for a moment, all the tension and awkwardness between us seemed to melt away.

But as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. We both pulled away awkwardly, realizing the unexpected intimacy of the hug.

"Uh, sorry about that," Ethan mumbled, his cheeks turning a shade of red I had never seen before.

"No, it's okay," I stammered, equally embarrassed.

Outside of our tutoring sessions, however, our relationship remained as strained as ever. Our newfound camaraderie seemed to exist only within the confines of the classroom, disappearing as soon as we stepped outside the door.

During hockey practices and games, Ethan and I were back to being at odds with each other. He would make snide remarks, and I would respond with sarcastic comments of my own. Mark tried to mediate, reminding us both of the progress we had made, but it seemed that our truce was limited to our time spent studying together.

It was frustrating, to say the least, to see Ethan revert to his old ways so easily. But I tried to focus on the positive, reminding myself of the progress we had made and the genuine friendship that was slowly developing between us.

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One Friday night, Mark convinced me to join him and the rest of the team at a frat party. I wasn’t much of a party person, but he promised it would be a good way to unwind and have some fun. Reluctantly, I agreed, not anticipating the events that would unfold.

The frat house was packed with students, the music blaring and the atmosphere electric. Despite my initial reservations, I found myself enjoying the night, laughing and dancing with Mark and his teammates. However, as the night wore on, I made the mistake of indulging a bit too much in the drinks being passed around.

By the time midnight rolled around, I was considerably more intoxicated than I had intended to be. My vision was blurry, my balance unsteady, and the room seemed to spin around me. I knew I needed to get out of there, but the idea of walking home by myself in my current state was daunting.

As I stumbled towards the exit, I felt a hand on my arm, steadying me. I looked up to find Ethan Edwards standing beside me, a concerned expression on his face.

"Y/N, are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

"I'm fine," I slurred, trying to pull away from him. "I just need to walk home."

Ethan looked at me incredulously, clearly recognizing that I was in no condition to make it home safely on my own.

"You're not walking home like this," he said firmly. "I'll drive you."

I scoffed at his suggestion, my intoxicated mind unable to process the genuine concern in his eyes.

"I am not driving home with you, are you crazy?" I snapped, my words slurring together.

Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, Y/N, I know we don't get along, but I'm not going to let you walk home alone like this. It's not safe."

Despite my intoxicated state, I knew he was right. Reluctantly, I nodded, allowing him to guide me towards his car.

The car ride was quiet, the tension palpable. I stared out the window, trying to ignore the pounding headache and the nauseous feeling that threatened to overtake me. Ethan drove carefully, his eyes focused on the road ahead, seemingly determined to get me home safely.

As we pulled up to my apartment, I mustered the strength to speak, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Thank you, Ethan," I said, my words slurred but sincere. "I appreciate it."

Ethan glanced over at me, a soft smile on his face. "You're welcome, Y/N. Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

Just as I was about to reply, a sudden wave of nausea washed over me. Panic set in as I realized I was about to be sick.

"Ethan, pull over!" I yelled, my voice frantic.

Without hesitation, Ethan swerved the car to the side of the road, unlocking the doors and jumping out of the car to help. I barely had time to open the door before I was leaning out, vomiting onto the side of the road.

Ethan was right beside me, holding my hair back and rubbing my back soothingly as I emptied my stomach. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, there was a gentleness to his actions that I hadn't expected.

Once I was done, Ethan handed me a bottle of water he had in the car, and I rinsed my mouth out before spitting onto the grass.

"Are you okay?" he asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

I nodded weakly, grateful for his help despite the embarrassment of the situation.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I replied, my voice shaky. "Thank you, Ethan. I'm really sorry about this."

Ethan shook his head, dismissing my apology with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it, Y/N. Just make sure you get inside safely, okay?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted and ready to be home. "I will. Thanks again, Ethan."

As I made my way towards my apartment, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude towards Ethan. Despite our differences and the strained relationship we had, he had shown me kindness and concern in a moment of need.

As I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, taking a moment to collect myself, I realized that perhaps there was more to Ethan Edwards than met the eye. Our relationship was still complicated, but in that vulnerable moment, I couldn't help but feel a newfound respect for him.

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The next day, I woke up with a pounding headache and a sense of regret about the previous night's events. As I tried to piece together the evening, my thoughts kept drifting back to Ethan and his unexpected kindness. I found myself wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the cocky, arrogant persona he often displayed.

Later that day, I received a text from Ethan.

Ethan: Hey, Y/N. Just wanted to check in and make sure you're feeling okay after last night. Let me know if you need anything.

I stared at the message for a moment, surprised by his thoughtfulness. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about his character.

Me: Hey Ethan, thanks for checking in. I'm feeling better, just a bit embarrassed about last night. I appreciate your help.

Ethan: No need to be embarrassed. We've all been there. Glad you're feeling better. If you ever need a ride or anything, just let me know.

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During a team dinner at a local restaurant, Ethan couldn't resist making another snide comment. The atmosphere was already buzzing with the excitement of Family Weekend, and I had been invited to join Mark and the team for the special occasion. Despite the festive mood, Ethan seemed determined to maintain our strained relationship.

"So, Y/N," he began, a sly grin on his face, "Do you tutor everyone on the team, or am I just lucky?"

I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. I didn't want to cause a scene in front of Mark and the rest of the team, especially during a family event. "I tutor those who need help, Ethan. It's nothing personal."

He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Sure, sure," he replied, the underlying tension clear in his tone.

Frustrated and tired of his constant jabs, I pulled Ethan aside, hoping to address the issue privately.

"Ethan, can we talk?" I asked, my voice low and controlled.

He looked at me, seemingly caught off guard by my request. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

"I didn't even want to tutor you," I admitted, my frustration evident. "Coach Naurato asked me to help you because Mark mentioned how much I've helped him with his academics. I agreed because I wanted to help you stay on the team, not because I enjoy being ridiculed by you at every opportunity."

Ethan looked at me, his expression changing from surprise to hurt. "I knew Coach asked you to tutor me because of Mark," he said quietly. "But hearing you say you didn't want to... it stings, Y/N."

I sighed, realizing the impact of my words. "Ethan, it's not that I didn't want to help you improve. It's your attitude towards me that's made this so challenging. Why do you do this to me?"

Ethan looked at me, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "I don't know, Y/N," he admitted, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. "I guess it's easier to push people away than to admit that I need help."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by his honesty. "So, you're saying all this animosity is just a defense mechanism?"

He shrugged, avoiding my gaze. "Maybe. It's just... I've always had to prove myself, I guess I'm just used to putting up walls."

I took a moment to process his words, feeling a pang of empathy. "Ethan, I get it. We all have our insecurities and ways of protecting ourselves. But that doesn't give you the right to treat me poorly."

He nodded, looking back up at me. "I know, Y/N. I'm sorry. I'll try to do better."

I looked at him, searching his eyes for any sign of sincerity. "Alright, Ethan. I'll give you another chance. But you need to show me that you're serious about changing. And it can't just be in private, Ethan. You need to treat me with respect in front of other people too."

He nodded, determination in his eyes. "I promise, Y/N. Things will change."

Feeling a sense of relief and hope, I impulsively stepped forward and wrapped my arms around Ethan in a brief hug. To my surprise, he hesitated for a moment before cautiously returning the embrace.

Little did we know, Mark had walked into the restaurant at that exact moment and witnessed the entire exchange. A look of suspicion crossed his face as he watched us, his instincts telling him that something had changed between his sister and his teammate.

As Ethan and I pulled apart, we were unaware of the scrutiny we were now under. Mark's suspicions were piqued, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had just occurred between us.

The atmosphere at the dinner table had noticeably shifted, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety. While Ethan seemed genuinely committed to changing his behavior, the unintended consequence of Mark's newfound suspicion added a layer of complexity to our already complicated relationship.

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As the weeks passed, Ethan and I continued to spend more time together, both during our tutoring sessions and outside of them. Our relationship was slowly evolving, and the mutual animosity we once shared was gradually being replaced by a growing friendship and understanding.

However, Mark began to notice the change in our dynamics. He would often spot us together around campus, studying in the library, grabbing coffee, or even just chatting and laughing in the university courtyard. Despite our best efforts to keep our growing friendship under wraps, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide the bond that was forming between us.

Mark couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on between his best friend and his sister. The secretiveness of our newfound friendship only heightened his suspicions. Why would Ethan and I keep this a secret from him if there was nothing to hide?

One evening, after a particularly productive tutoring session, Ethan and I were walking back to our dorms when we ran into Mark outside the hockey rink. He looked surprised to see us together, his eyes narrowing as he took in our relaxed demeanor.

"Hey, Y/N, Ethan," Mark greeted, his tone friendly but his eyes betraying a hint of suspicion. "What are you two up to?"

"We just finished a study session," I replied, trying to sound casual. "Ethan's really making progress."

Ethan nodded, offering Mark a genuine smile. "Yeah, Y/N's been a huge help."

Mark studied us for a moment, clearly not buying our casual demeanor. "That's great to hear," he said, his tone still friendly but now laced with curiosity. "You two seem to be spending a lot of time together."

I felt my cheeks heat up, realizing that our secret was becoming harder and harder to keep. "We're just friends, Mark. Nothing more."

Ethan chimed in, "Yeah, just trying to get my grades up and stay on the team."

Mark looked between us, his suspicion not completely alleviated but not wanting to push the issue further. "Alright, just remember, Ethan, she's my sister," he said, half-jokingly but with a serious undertone.

Ethan nodded, "I know, Mark. I'll always respect that." 

Despite Mark's attempt to convince himself that there was nothing going on between Ethan and me, his suspicions continued to gnaw at him. He couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal, knowing that the two closest people in his life were keeping something from him. Even though they weren't explicitly dating, the closeness between Ethan and me felt like a betrayal of his trust.

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As days turned into weeks, Mark found himself growing increasingly frustrated and angry. He couldn't understand why Ethan and I would keep our growing relationship a secret from him if there was nothing more to it. The more he thought about it, the more it fueled his suspicion and resentment.

One evening, Mark confronted me about his suspicions. We were alone in our dorm room, and the tension between us was palpable.

"Y/N, I need to know the truth," Mark said, his voice strained with emotion. "Are you and Ethan... more than just friends?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The truth was that Ethan and I had grown closer over the past few weeks, but we hadn't officially defined our relationship. However, I couldn't deny the growing feelings I had developed for him.

"Mark, I... I don't know what to say," I replied, feeling torn between my loyalty to my brother and my burgeoning feelings for Ethan.

Mark's expression darkened, his anger bubbling to the surface. "Don't play dumb with me, Y/N. I've seen the way you two look at each other, the way you're always together. How could you keep this from me?"

I sighed, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. "I'm sorry, Mark. I never meant to hurt you. It just... happened."

Mark shook his head, unable to hide his disappointment. "I thought I could trust you, Y/N. I thought Ethan was my friend. But it turns out, I was wrong about both of you."

I reached out to him, desperate to mend our fractured relationship. "Mark, please. I know this is difficult, but I care about Ethan. And I care about you. I don't want to lose either of you."

But Mark pulled away, his trust shattered. "I need some time, Y/N. I need to figure out how to deal with this betrayal."

As he left the room, the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. I knew that repairing the damage to our relationship would take time and effort, but I was determined to do whatever it took to make things right.

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During the next hockey practice, the tension between Mark and Ethan was palpable. Both were competitive and passionate about the sport, but the underlying animosity stemming from Mark's feelings of betrayal added a new level of intensity to their interactions on the ice.

As they found themselves on opposite teams during a scrimmage, Mark's aggression towards Ethan became increasingly evident. He was playing more aggressively than usual, delivering harder checks and playing with a level of determination that seemed fueled by his feelings of anger and betrayal.

Ethan, sensing the change in Mark's demeanor, tried to keep his cool and focus on the game. However, it became increasingly challenging as Mark continued to target him, making the practice more of a personal vendetta than a team exercise.

At one point, during a particularly heated moment in the game, Mark delivered a high check to Ethan, causing him to crash into the boards. The impact was hard, and Ethan fell to the ice, clutching his shoulder in pain.

The coach blew the whistle, signaling an end to the scrimmage and rushing onto the ice to check on Ethan's condition. The entire team gathered around, their concern evident as Ethan struggled to his feet, wincing from the pain.

"Are you okay, Ethan?" Coach Naurato asked, his voice filled with concern.

Ethan nodded, trying to brush off the incident. "I'm fine, just a bit shaken up."

Mark, realizing the gravity of his actions, looked visibly remorseful as he approached Ethan. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I let my emotions get the best of me. That was uncalled for."

Ethan looked at Mark, his expression a mix of pain and understanding. "It's okay, Mark. I get it. But we need to figure this out."

The coach, sensing the need to address the situation immediately, called for a team meeting to discuss the underlying issues and find a way to resolve the tension between Mark and Ethan.

"As a team, we need to support each other, both on and off the ice," Coach Naurato began, addressing the entire team. "Personal issues should not interfere with our performance and unity as a team."

Mark and Ethan exchanged a glance, realizing that their personal issues were affecting not only their relationship but also the team's dynamics and performance.

"We need to find a way to resolve our differences and work together for the sake of the team," Ethan said, breaking the silence.

Mark nodded, his expression serious. "I agree, Ethan. I let my emotions cloud my judgment, and I'm sorry."

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When I found out about the altercation between Mark and Ethan during practice, I was furious. I couldn't believe that their personal issues had escalated to the point where it was affecting the entire team. Determined to resolve the situation once and for all, I called them both over to my apartment.

As they entered, they could sense the anger and frustration in my demeanor. I didn't waste any time getting to the point.

"What the hell were you two thinking?" I exclaimed, my voice filled with anger. "You let your personal issues get in the way of the team's performance, and it's not okay!"

Mark and Ethan exchanged a guilty glance, realizing the gravity of their actions and the impact it had on the team.

Before they could respond, I continued, "I'm tired of this tension between you two. If you have a problem with each other, then deal with it like adults and stop letting it affect the team!"

Mark looked at me, his expression a mix of guilt and understanding. "You're right, Y/N. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I'm sorry. It's not fair to you, Ethan, or the team."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my anger. "It's not just about the team, Mark. It's about your friendship with Ethan and your trust in me. I can't believe you would let this situation escalate to the point where it affects our relationship."

Mark looked at me, his expression softening. "Y/N, I've thought about it a lot, and if you and Ethan want to date, I'm okay with it. I'd be happy to have Ethan as a possible brother-in-law. I just need to know that you're both serious about each other and that this won't happen again."

Ethan looked at Mark, surprised by his admission. "Mark, are you serious? You're okay with Y/N and me dating?"

I turned to Ethan, my eyes widening in surprise. "You would want to date me?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and hope.

Ethan smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at me. "Yes, Y/N, I would. Despite our initial disagreements and the challenges we've faced, I've come to care about you deeply. I'd like to see where this relationship could go, if you're willing."

I felt my heart swell with emotion, touched by his sincerity and the vulnerability he was displaying. "Ethan, I've developed feelings for you too. Despite everything, I've come to appreciate the person you are underneath all the bravado. I'd like to see where this could lead as well."

Mark, witnessing the exchange, let out a soft chuckle. "Well, it seems like the feelings are mutual. Just promise me that you both will be honest with each other and with me moving forward. I want you both to be happy, but I also want to make sure that this won't cause any issues with the team or our friendship."

Ethan and I nodded in agreement, grateful for Mark's understanding and support. "We promise, Mark," I assured him. "Our relationship won't change our commitment to our friendship or the team."

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After Mark had given his approval for Ethan and me to date, the dynamic between the three of us shifted noticeably. The tension that once clouded our interactions began to dissipate, replaced by a newfound sense of camaraderie and mutual respect.

Mark, always the protective older brother, now seemed more at ease with our relationship. He made an effort to include Ethan in our family gatherings and often invited him over for dinner or to watch hockey games on TV. It was clear that Mark was trying to build a strong relationship with Ethan, not just as a teammate but now also as a potential future brother-in-law.

One evening, Mark organized a small get-together at our family home. It was an informal gathering, with just a few close friends and teammates. As Ethan and I arrived, Mark greeted us warmly at the door, a genuine smile on his face.

"Hey, you two. Come on in," Mark said, giving me a playful nudge and a wink. "Ethan, glad you could make it."

"Thanks for having us, Mark," Ethan replied, returning the smile. "Smells great in here."

Throughout the evening, Mark made an effort to involve both Ethan and me in conversations, ensuring we felt comfortable and included. He even shared a few embarrassing childhood stories about me, much to my chagrin, but it was all in good fun and made for a lively and enjoyable evening.

As the night wore on, Mark pulled Ethan aside for a private conversation. I couldn't help but feel a bit anxious, wondering what they were discussing. After a few minutes, they rejoined the group, both of them wearing satisfied smiles.

"Everything okay?" I asked, looking between the two of them.

"Yeah, everything's great," Mark replied, putting an arm around Ethan's shoulders. "I've got to say, Y/N, you've picked a good one."

Ethan chuckled, his cheeks turning a shade of red. "Thanks, Mark. I think you're pretty great too."

As the months passed, our relationship continued to flourish, and Mark's initial reservations about Ethan and me dating seemed to fade away completely. He became one of our biggest supporters, always there to offer advice, lend a listening ear, or celebrate our milestones as a couple.

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One weekend, Ethan and I planned a getaway trip to a cabin in the mountains. Knowing that Mark was an experienced hiker and outdoorsman, we invited him to join us. To our surprise, he agreed, and the three of us spent a memorable weekend hiking, exploring, and bonding over shared meals and campfire stories.

By the end of the trip, it was clear that Ethan had earned Mark's trust and respect. They had forged a strong bond, built on mutual interests and a shared love for adventure. As we packed up to leave, Mark pulled Ethan aside for another private conversation.

"Take care of her, okay?" Mark said, his voice filled with sincerity.

"You have my word, Mark," Ethan replied, shaking Mark's hand firmly. "I care about Y/N deeply, and I'll always do my best to make her happy."

As we drove back home, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude and happiness. I was grateful for Ethan's unwavering support and love, but also for Mark's acceptance and the bond we had all formed together.

honestly I hate this, but I wanted to get something out for you guys. Please dont be afraid to request!

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

no thoughts just comparing the deliberate parallels between the concerned comments layla, faruzan and paimon make to kaveh which are used to contextualise alhaitham’s comments to kaveh during a parade of providence

In the desert, layla who previously had issues with dealing with anxieties, received dubious advice from kaveh about equating worries to that of a sickness for that which is no cure, therefore you have to let its run its course

Layla reveals that this advice isn’t suitable for her, since the cause for her anxiety was solely because she didn’t have a clear goal for herself. She states that therefore, if this advice is something kaveh adheres to, then this is ultimately worse for him, as kaveh claims to have a set goal - as in, he wants to win the interdarshan chanpionship.

She notes that kaveh seems conflicted, and that this could stem from some inner sadness which he suppresses with a façade of happiness.

This points to kaveh’s internal conflict being between that of his guilt complex brought about by his perceived involvement in his father’s passing, and his genuine desire to help others at the cost of himself. Kaveh cannot balance the two in ways that will allow him to prioritise his own needs and desires

Kaveh’s internal conflict is pointed out later on in the same quest by Faruzan, who highlights kaveh’s title as a genius being incongruous with his problem solving abilities after kaveh passes out in the desert due to giving his food and water to the disturbed foxes and going out of his way to lead them to safety, putting himself at risk and jeopardising his place in the competition

However, Kaveh states that his title of a genius has nothing to do with this situation, and although he admits it wasn’t the most practical solution, it was dually his conscience that ultimately caused him to act and perceivably the guilt that would come from not attempting to help

After the second round comes to a close and faruzan inadvertently informs alhaitham of kaveh’s “tribulations”, the player gets to hear alhaitham’s reactions to kaveh’s decision through kaveh, as kaveh and alhaitham have discussed the events in the desert offscreen

Paimon points out that this is definitely ‘something’ alhaitham would say due to the blunt manner of speaking and the dryness of his words - this contextualises how kaveh receives them, as personal goading

When looking past this and focussing on alhaitham’s actual words, the real meaning can be found, and it is even a point in this scene that paimon offers the exact same comments, drawing direct parallels between her and alhaitham’s words, and therefore establishing the same concerns

Alhaitham points out kaveh’s unreliable problem solving abilities being incongruous with his title as a senior - directly paralleling faruzan’s comments in which she highlighted how kaveh’s decision making abilities were at odds with his title as a genius

As well as this, alhaitham alludes to kaveh’s guilt complex being the reason why he exerts himself for others at his own expense - which is a point that the traveller and paimon directly follow up on

Kaveh responds to their questioning amicably despite the sensitive nature of the conversation, just as he did when faruzan pointed out kaveh’s problematical decision making, and this is because of their apparent concern rather than actively seeking offence, with paimon protesting when kaveh asks: “don’t tell me you think i have serious personality flaws, too?” With the ‘too’ clearly referencing alhaitham and the conversation the two had prior to the traveller and paimon turning up

Kaveh can understand the concern in others’ words when they question his problem solving skills and the sense of his inner conflict stemming from guilt, however, when alhaitham makes the same comments, kaveh sees this as a form on animosity and personal critique

Because of alhaitham’s manner of communication and kaveh’s apparent distrust of alhaitham, the two cannot reach a mutual understanding - despite alhaitham expressing the same concerns as three separate characters within this quest

It is telling then that when kaveh gleans an otherwise unseen meaning in alhaitham’s words is when alhaitham changes his method of communication and directly, and intimately, addresses kaveh by using a script that only the two are privy to

Kaveh still doesn’t wholly understand alhaitham’s meaning, but the switch up in communication method is enough for kaveh to question alhaitham’s sincerity and not attribute it to alhaitham mocking him

Kaveh continues questioning the cause for this throughout the remainder of the event, being seen to question why alhaitham left the notes for him and whether if it was a coincidence or not. He concludes that it wasn’t a coincidence and then states “then…”, inferably questioning why alhaitham left the notes for him and what the meaning of his words were, in a script only kaveh would understand. Additionally, kaveh mentions wanting to ask alhaitham what the meaning of his notes were when at dinner after the closing of the interdarshan championship, as the uncertain meaning of his words has seemingly left a profound effect on him

Alhaitham changing his manner of communication, which kaveh usually perceives as negative, causes kaveh to question alhaitham’s sincerity, and therefore causes doubt in whether alhaitham is patronising him or not. This in turn can cast obscurity over kaveh’s assertion that alhaitham holds “disdain” for him due to Alhaitham’s expression of concern which kaveh cannot perceive due to the abrasiveness of his words. Alhaitham conveying his concern in a roundabout way only allows for kaveh to misinterpret him, which kaveh perceives as “disdain”.

A parade of providence establishes the cause for the rift in alhaitham and kaveh’s relationship mainly to be perpetual misunderstanding in communication, and sets out to propose a solution being that a change of communication.

By using a language that only the two of them know shows that for kaveh to fully understand his meaning, alhaitham must meet kaveh on his own terms when it comes to communication - the two must be on equal and frank level. this could allow a potential rebuilding of intimacy the two once shared when initially learning the language, and thus overcome the idea of “mutual disdain” which kaveh asserts due to his fundamental misunderstanding of alhaitham which alhaitham seems to reinforce with his typical language

(Update: For more analyses like this, the essay this is taken from is now uploaded! It can be accessed here and here as as a pdf <3)

[annabelle--cane]

Hey so I'm not good at subtext and I saw you posting about ep 200 of TMA being awesome. I've listened to it a few times and I'm mostly...confused? I don't understand what happened

(I mean, I get what Martin did to Jon, but nothing other than that)

Would you mind explaining why it's impactful to you?

honestly the main standout thing that makes it really shine to me is the soundscaping and vocal editing, and I've seen people take that as an indirect snide comment about the writing before but it really isn't, the entire scene in the panopticon just sounds gorgeous. the distortion and static on jon's voice, the underscoring of the statement, the way jon and martin's dialogue pops out from the sounds of the crumbling tower, it's just. aaaaaaaaaa. I find it really pleasant to listen to, if you've only listened through speakers then I'd 100% recommend trying it with headphones, it is simply very pretty and well made.

from the story side, it's beat after beat of ultimate catharsis for threads and arcs that have been set up for the whole show.

jon going ham and just really brutally killing jonah with his own hands, no supernatural influence, finally fulling snapping and, it sounds like, gutting him like a fish. it's just about the most lively and impassioned we've heard him all season, and, as far as anyone could deserve to do such a thing, he really is the person who deserved to get to do it.

jon and martin both betraying each other and making the choices that the whole story has been leading them to. jon has spent years fighting against his internalized idea that he can't trust anyone and he's the only person who's powerful/expendable/knowledgeable enough to make decisions and solve problems, and at last he submits to it and takes matters into his own hands. martin has spent years operating under the assumption that he's unimportant and incapable, and now just as he finally accepts that his choices have meaning, he sets the plan in motion that ends up getting them both killed. and jon has tried so hard to be transparent and show him trust that he underestimates just how willing jon is to go behind his back and disregard the plan completely.

and the fuckign. web lighter. I have a longstanding obsession with the mechanics of fate in tragedy narratives, and this lighter. hhh. so, fate (the web) was guiding jon & co to release the fears, but to jon's knowledge, killing jonah and becoming the pupil should have been his winning move to keep them contained. as far as he was capable of comprehending, he made all the right choices, but fate (the web) (the oppressive forces that govern all of our lives) doesn't play fair, it planned for this and cheated him. because he couldn't remember the lighter. he couldn't remember that he already gave georgie the catalyst for the explosion.

this tells me a few things: the ultimate end of releasing the fears was always going to happen, there was nothing jon could have done, but, technically, he could have adhered to the plan and lived to spend what was left of his life with martin and the rest of his nearest and dearest. but that was never really an option, was it? jon archivist sims would never have made that decision, that's why martin tried and failed to plan around it, that's why the web tried and succeeded to plan around it, it would never have happened differently. jon made his choice, it made no difference except to doom himself and the one he loves, he didn't have to do it, and it was inevitable.

and after all of that, after the web cheated him, he could still have won. he could have survived the tower collapse and kept the fears. but one of his biggest stated motives, over and over, is that he can't stand to lose anyone else, and martin is not immune to burning buildings the way he is. in an inverse to gertrude, at the last moment, he chose the barest chance for martin to survive over his own life and principles and big picture goals. he could cope with being responsible for killing the world in the abstract, but when it came to watching the person he loves most die right before his eyes, he caved and came around to martin's perspective. the other worlds can cope, he wants to save the man he loves.

[nieded]

#RAINBOWROAD for Rainbow Railroad Charity Drive Redux Pre-Orders are open!

I am so excited to announce that I am taking preorders for copies of the entire #RAINBOWROAD trilogy starting today! Preorders will be open starting today, February 14th (happy Valentine's!) to March 13th. It will close at 11:59 MST.

Please reblog so we can spread the news!!!!

>>PRE-ORDER HERE<<

This past summer, I did a print run of the first part of the series, Sit Tight, Take Hold and printed 94 copies for charity. Many readers asked for books 2 & 3, and I had many others express interest in a 3-part bundle who missed the first run. I've spent November, December, and January prepping the next parts for print, and I'm so excited to share them with you.

So, what is included?

Option for a 3-book bundle including:

Book 1: Sit Tight Take Hold 424 pages on matte 80lb text paper, color printing throughout. Cover has matte lamination in color. Dimensions of the book are 6x9x.93. Weight ~2 lbs Art by Blairamok (See cover art above)

Book 2: How do you solve a problem like Ezira?, Accept a Little Spin, and Oh, there's a long way to go 408 pages on matte 80lb text paper, color printing throughout. Cover has matte lamination in color. Dimensions of the book are 6x9x.93. Weight ~2 lbs Art by DustandHalos (cover art below)

Book 3: Fools Rush In and bonus content, 0-60 in 3.5 468 pages on matte 80lb text paper, color printing throughout. Cover has matte lamination in color. Dimensions of the book are 6x9x1.06. Weight ~2lbs Art by Pyracantha (cover art below)

PDF copies of all three parts

Option for a 2-book bundle including only Parts 2 & 3 + PDF copies. This is an option for people who already own the first book.

Limited option for Part 1 discounted damaged books (15 available). This does not include PDFs. These books have cosmetic damage to the covers from shipping. Damage does no affect the print quality of the text.

Limited postcards that were extras from the first run (only 8 available)

Remaining Corvette Crowley posters, including A/B grade options, 12x18".

$20 PDFs of all stories that will include all the formatting of the print run and cover art! (Screenshots from the PDF proofs below)

Where are the proceeds going?

Rainbow Railroad is a North American-based organization that works globally to ensure safety and asylum to LGBTQIA+ individuals. This is the same charity we donated to last time, and it was a resounding success. Last time, we were able to fundraise $1,600!

Continued FAQ below:

How much does shipping cost?

For US residents, bundles will cost a flat fee of $10. They will ship via media mail through USPS.

For anyone outside of the US, shipping has been estimated through the cheapest carrier, either USPS or UPS minus $10. Unfortunately, I cannot control the cost of shipping, and I know that it is extraordinarily high. The bundles will weigh anywhere between 4-6+ lbs, which is expensive to ship.

Wait, I'm from the US. Why am I paying more for Media Mail?

While Media Mail typically would cost $4-6, the increased price is to offset international orders, whose shipping will cost anywhere from $20-60 with the discount. I hope you understand. I want to make this as accessible as I can without personally eating any costs. I am not making any profit off of this project.

When do orders ship?

Once pre-orders close on 3/13, I will order the books. There is typically a 2-4 week turn around for them to be printed and delivered to me. I then have to package and ship everything from my house. I hope to have everything shipped 1 month after pre-orders close, but I am only human.

US mail should take 2-8 days. International orders can take anywhere from 2-4 weeks, so please be patient.

If you are only ordering a damaged copy or postcards, both of which have already been printed, I will ship those out sooner.

When do I get my PDFs?

The PDFs and book proofs are the same, and they are 90% done. PDFs will be delivered via email by me once pre-orders close. I am still doing small changes and edits to make sure they are perfect!

If I order a bundle, do I also need to order PDFs if I want digital copies?

NO! PDFs are included with the bundles and only the bundles. You will not have access to them immediately, only once pre-orders close and I email them to you! Like I said, they are 90% finished, and I am stilling making small adjustments. (Kerning, I loathe you!)

What percent of proceeds are going to Rainbow Railroad?

100%! This excludes the cost of printing and shipping. For reference, the first print run cost $1,254 for the books alone, not including shipping and packaging supplies. Anything remaining goes directly to charity. I am not keeping any costs for labor or making any profit on this.

Wait, there's bonus content?

Remember when I said I was done after the trilogy? Well, @tut557 popped into the Discord server and said, 'Hey, what if they played Mario Kart...' This spiraled into a long conversation about all the different media promos they might do, and then I spent this past November writing another 50k of the #RAINBOWROAD universe for NaNoWriMo. This is also available on AO3, and I will be posting weekly while preorders are open. You can find it here.

[septembriseur]

There have been so many parallels all along between the international response to the genocide in Gaza and the international response to the fall of Afghanistan. Obviously two extremely different events, but I’m talking purely about the international response.

One notable similarity (which I think is simply now becoming “how things work”) is what a colleague in Finland termed “distributed humanitarianism”: the extent to which large-scale NGO humanitarian interventions have been replaced by grass-roots, piecemeal interventions by individuals— essentially outsourcing humanitarianism to individuals. My colleague, who was talking about this in the context of Ukraine, saw this as an amazing disruption of traditional models. I countered by describing the sense of abandonment by organizations and moral despair that I and others experienced while trying to help people in Afghanistan— and the real sense that distributed humanitarianism privileged people who had strong connections to the West, who spoke English, and whose stories could be attractively framed to appeal to Western priorities.

Another similarity is the fact that the response has been (understandably) a response of urgency, which has no way to create infrastructure that will support a future of ongoing emergency. In Afghanistan, the focus was on getting people out immediately, with the expectation that organizations and governments would eventually get off their asses and take responsibility. When this did not happen, no one was prepared to provide long-term legal and financial support for refugees. Almost three years after the fall of Kabul, many friends of mine are still waiting for the resettlement that the US promised them (including US interpreters and security guards). Most of the ad hoc groups that formed to support them have collapsed due to lack of funding, because so few people (other than veterans, really) are actively advocating for Afghanistan now.

Already I see attention to Gaza waning as the emergency becomes normalized. In general, Western audiences want to feel that by taking a certain action (providing a certain sum of money), they can solve a problem. That mindset and that framework is not useful in a situation that requires sustained responsibility for other people’s lives— that requires an understanding that this is not an emergency, but rather a manifestation of a logic (cf Achille Mbembe’s necropolitics) that is fundamental to our way of existence.

One has to ask what is going to happen a year or two years from now, when the survivors of Gaza still do not have homes, still do not have legal status, still have no way to support themselves and their families, and are still receiving inadequate aid. This is not a criticism of current efforts, but rather an observation from my own experience: people need to be planning for a future of sustained, long-term mutual aid. No one (governments, big orgs) can be relied on to help you. No one is coming to save you. We are responsible for saving each other.

[g1rlken]

┏ 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 ┐

part3.

Alex turner x fem!actress reader

an: this part gives slightly “the Peter” by Taylor Swift vibes

word count: 3.6k+

Warnings: mention of depression

-

It was difficult to keep on going on your whim, time and time again looking for reasons to belittle or make it difficult for y/n to work on this project. She absolutely regretted come to this godawful grassland for the world’s pettiest man’s song. Not that he hadn’t moved on, y/n would see him: hand around shoulder, slipping down the waist as he’d laugh with one of those model stand ins. Every meal. The common dining area of the hotel they stayed at, Alex was the charming machine to all these lady guests of his. She couldn’t keep on distracting herself talking to the rest of crew, small talk was fine and longer conversations were embarrassing. She felt ambushed talking about her acting hiatus because the general narrative was that she got way too into her own head, she probably did but what business was that to the intern Sam who was a disguised coffee guy. She kept on telling herself and everyone else that the ‘whole thing’ wasn’t a ‘big deal’ but god forbid someone mentions an award function, her tone would immediately get guarded as if she was being tested. As if she was on that stage again being a laughingstock. Too much. She didn’t talk at all, hence decided to order room service for almost all her meals.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Y/n exclaimed slumping her shoulders down. There was a rain forecast on their original location so they changed production to a planned cliff, second day of the same shoot and the municipality shut down entry to the place because of supposed lightning forecast. It was taking forever to finish this godforsaken music video.

“They said they’re closing it for a week.” Richard informed her with a sigh, bummed out himself. Too much time on production as it is, getting to a peculiar location as such. From the centre to outskirts through the hilly roads it was already such a hustle only to find the place shut down. “The studio said we might as well extend a while for the location since we came all this way.”

The whole crew was growing increasingly restless on this project, no more than y/n and no less than Alex who was apparently enjoying the sights. A smirk on his face, clicking a picture of the no entry sign for the joke of it, snickering as he did so. It just fuelled her annoyance. “Cant we just shoot here? We drove four hours to come here!” Y/n proposed pointing to the open grass landscape, the whole place was just gigantic dunes of grass and grey skies. The first two days of shoot, it was beautiful. With more and more delays it was the most daft place ever.

“We have done the landscape part we need a cliff shot now…” Richard trailed off with a sigh, “Look, guys, let’s stay positive yeah? We can maybe find a new location”

“We can’t, they close the roads by sundown remember? It’s already 2, I don’t think we can make it.” Alex added into the conversation, his tone was laced with amusement so bad it made y/n infuriated but she didn’t say a word given he was a master of creating a scene. Absolute zero fellowship in him, he was enjoying everyone else’s suffering coming all this way just to spite her.

“Don’t we have a pass for it? With the shooting permit?” Y/n inquired about it, such remote locations generally allow access to a shooting team on permit.

“Guess who forgot it at the hotel?” Giving a disappointed look to Sam, the coffee guy/intern.

Deadpanning her face y/n rubbed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. Disappointment clouded her problem solving abilities “Don’t we have any cliff other equivalent location in this stupid place?” She said with a scoff. Every place looked identical anyways.

“What a great idea!” Alex exclaimed ironically joining his hands together, his classic taunting was about to follow “How about we find her a park bench, will that be cliff equivalent for you?”

It had already been a lot of days of this mockery and a miserable time here. At hotel, the locations, failed shoots, his constant jabs were resulting in a lot of piled agitation. “Shut the fuck up.” She said blatantly.

Richard widened his eyes as did the crew, they were busy in finding network to make the maps work and Google nearest new locations but this was rather difficult to not be moved by, Alex too, “excuse me?” he was taken aback to say at least. Raising a brow he leant forward as to express his offended demeanour.

“The whole crew is really tired, we all woke at 4 am. Packing, equipment, dress, make up-to drive all the way here only to not shoot. If you can’t contribute stop irritating people who are actually working.” She told him off crossing her arms, shifting her weight on one leg.

“Is that so? What are you doing except for whining?” Alex said with a bitter laugh.

“This is stupid” she shook her head, instantly deciding to not engage anymore given she was here for work not engage in petty conversation with him besides in front of the whole crew it was anyways unprofessional. “You’re unreasonable” she waved her hand in mid air, crossing her arms as she was turning away.

“You haven’t changed a bit. Go on go leave, you’ve never had it in yourself to stay when things get difficult.” Alex scoffed, absolutely unfiltered in front of the whole crew perhaps purposely harsh.

“Alex, I’m being professional here you don’t have to go that far.” She replied with a frown on her face, surface level comprehension of his words which she knew would hurt so much, they already were but she wanted to be removed from this conversation before he made matters worse.

“Oh you’re being professional now?” To him, anything to do with her wasn’t professional. For exaggeration, if she even breathed in his direction he was agitated. Just a huge grudge to not see beyond professionalism. “Such a professional in everything you messed up your most serious two year long relationship.”

“I know it wasn’t mutual and I regret you were hurt but this isn’t the place to have that conversation now-“ she tried to reason with him in a subtle way, instead of biting back like him she could’ve approached with bitterness of how it’s been half a year since they parted, how he was seemingly moving on yet constantly berating her for leaving.

“You don’t get to decide where and when we have this conversation? You’ve already decided enough for me.” He said mockingly, his gaze fixated on her as he stared her down. He wasn’t aware for the root of his hurt and anger, originally he knew it was because she left him yes. But other than that, the fact that she felt like just waltzing back into his life through small talk or the fact that she didn’t waltz back into his life. It was the later. She decided to break up without of a second thought because she deemed it right for him, thinking she was a burden. She decided to leave for him and all he wanted was her. Back then and even now he didn’t know what he was trying to prove to her but it was surely drifting her father from him and he didn’t know how to stop that so he just let his anger out, “Tell me, is it better now? You learned to cook did you? You take your own meds on time…if you actually do? You attend all possible award shows you’re nominated in?” He scoffed, reminding her all such things he was helping her through and she refused him. He couldn’t stomach that she wanted to heal without him and it was a rather low blow when he mentioned the award show thing, she didn’t attend award shows at all even now. He kept tabs even after the break up because It brought him a sort of reassurance that she wasn’t completely alright, not without him. He loved her so infatuatedly he didn’t know how to act.

Y/n was sick to her stomach as he went on and on, in front of everyone just spewing out her personal miseries. “You don’t get to play the martyr just because I didn’t want your help.” To think that man that once hand fed her all which he cooked, with so much love, the man who set alarms to remind her for her medicines and the award show thing. He knew it was and still is a sensitive subject for her, he put her in the exact same situation like back up at that stage again. Right now amongst the camera crew, it was just a handful of people and y/n felt increasingly uncomfortable yet he didn’t stop talking.

“I’m not playing the martyr but I didn’t asked to get left either.” He said emphasising on the word ‘didn’t’ right back at her. He wouldn’t say it but this whole lashing out was not because she didn’t want his help but because she didn’t want him and that still word.

“It’s been…” she paused, “six months.” It was really hard to see him say all that so easily and she could barely formulate words trying to fight back tears simultaneously. Just how could he show indifference so such extent.

“I’m aware.” He scoffed changing his stance looking away for one second, contemplating if he should go on because he did take a not of her quivering voice she always did that when she was about to cry, he could recall from their time together and that reminder just fuelled him even more. He knew her like the back of his hand back then, even now, yet she walked way. “You were scared I’d leave you if I got to know you were depressed but when I chose to stay you were even more scared and left me. It is so difficult to love let alone work with you!”

“Work, yes of course” she nodded slowly registering the hurt of his words bit by bit because he was going further from far. “I’m going to go revise…” she told Richard, rest of the crew as well. All who’d been witnessing this conflict awkwardly and painfully silently. Y/n couldn’t look at anyone’s faces as she walked back to the trailer, it was a bus in itself because the whole crew travelled together but if the universe had any ounce of mercy left for her nobody would join her this very moment. Her ears were numb to the silent background, she thought Alex would have the last word surely but he didn’t. She walked the longest walk back to the trailer, closing the door behind her. There was a heavy feeling in her chest, the mechanical setting of sadness. Her heart racing, mind replaying the whole ordeal. Every word, everyone’s surprised faces. She wanted to break down, tears already brimmed her eyes but then again if they were to resume shooting on a new location the very same day her eyes would be so puffy and displaying that to the makeup crew. After everything they witnessed, absolutely not. She paced back and forth air drying her tears, trying to divert her mind. She did. She thought about the dreadful night of their breakup again, she must’ve put Alex in this very situation back then. His pleading, begging voice. The man who was on his knees for her who wanted her to do anything but leave, just how right now she wanted him to do anything but keep talking. But well, both things happened and the later was the consequence of the first one. She had nobody but herself to blame and the inherent guilt crept right back in.

-

Thankfully, there was no resumed shooting later that day given the rain check was really bad to commute to another location as well so the crew all returned back to the hotel. Four hours, just staring out the window. Fixated completely y/n didn’t even look at anyone the entire ride and nobody approached her even. Straight into her room at the hotel, for dinner she ordered just room service. After an awaited long breakdown in her room she couldn’t go down and have dinner with the rest of them, the breakdown session was as it is evident on her face plus everything was so awkward after the whole ordeal. Everyone looked at her with agitating sympathy, as if her dog had passed.

She opened the door to “Room service!” knock, taking the food in, not exactly meeting the eyes somewhat hiding her face as if she was some alleyway dealer. “Thanks.”

“Miss y/l/n, I’m really sorry for what you’re going through.” The room service guy told her out of courtesy and also genuine compassion.

“What?” She was immediately confused, what exactly was he referring to?

“The whole…your ex-I was there.” He explained, not sure how exactly to term Alex lashing out on her in front of everyone. But he wanted her to know his sympathies lay with her “I was assigned by the hotel to the filming crew as a local here” he said referring to why exactly he was there in the first place.

“Oh.” Y/n nodded, wonderful. This whole interaction had the same feeling of a funeral when someone explains how they’re related to the person in subject however in this case y/n was full well alive. “Yeah…thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“For the record, I’ve seen almost all of your movies and I have loved you in every single one of them and your order is the most easiest order to make. So you’re not difficult to love or work with I’ll have you know.” He tried to be hospitable and also as a fan, he felt really bad for the actress in question. His heart was there, trying to offer kind words but it just made y/n feel ambushed.

“That’s-that’s really sweet.” She nodded with a small smile regardless. What a time! Even absolute strangers feel sympathetic to her and Alex who-no. “It means a lot…”

“Always. If you need anything, the restaurant is open till 11.” He said politely and pushed out the empty cart out of her room and bid her goodnight.

Just as she was about to close the door as the cart moved out, a foot stepped in the middle refraining her from closing it completely so she opened it instead to see who it was. “Hi.” Alex said as he tilted his head forward, he didn’t think she’d actually open the door to him.

Y/n just took a deep breath, visibly raising her guard she did not have anything to say him at this point and she couldn’t believe he had something more to say. She just stood there, trying to appear stiff but with just the first glance he could tell she had been crying. Crying really bad. He wanted to apologise, after a lot of thinking over the words shared he felt like he crossed a line. Especially with what he said, he said in front of everyone. He messed up. Apologies came cheap, he didn’t know what to say. “The shots from yesterday came in, it’s good. It’s great. Beautiful-you were beautiful.”

Tears were already formulating her eyes, just at the sight of him. The casualty of his tone after what he did, she wanted the slam the door in his face so that’s what she attempted too. Slowly closing the door but he stopped her again, “please, can we talk”

“Just go…” she sighed averting her gaze from him so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her cry. He leant a bit lower to see her face, conforming the tears she was trying to hide. He wanted to reach out and hold her but he was just out here in the lobby. He experimented professing further and she did let him inside, dejectedly moving aside y/n just didn’t want to see his face anymore.

Getting inside Alex softly closed the door behind him, anxiously she was pacing back and forth. He once made fun of her, he called this method of hers “air-drying tears, love?” he asked. She did not want him here in the first place so he didn’t breach that boundary, stopping by the small of hallway to her hotel room a few steps by the door.

“Why are you even here?” She asked firmly as she had been successful to air dry her tears back. It wasn’t pride, maybe on the prideful spectrum but she would not cry in front of him even though it hurt like hell.

“I know I can’t make things right after what I said today, I shouldn’t have said that. Especially not in front of everyone like that-you, you were at work.” He said in a calm tone leaning against the wall, “I’m sorry…I’m really sorry.”

“Okay.” She nodded without even looking at him, barely acknowledging his words because she was fixated on not breaking down at this very second.

“That’s it?” He asked, not frustrated just underwhelmed that his genuine apology accounted for so much less? “Okay?” He couldn’t tell if she was okay with it in a true sense or if she was being passive aggressively ignorant about it.

“What do you want me to say?” Y/n asked scrunching her brows as she crossed her arms.

“We are not at the best terms, I know. We both messed up, you were trying to be civil. Today I crossed a big line, I know. I really want to just make things right-“

“Then why don’t you just leave?!” She stopped his self serving closure set apology mid way, “You are here in the first place just to spite me aren’t you? To give me a hard time and so far Alex, you have been very successful-“ she was so angry, she couldn’t hold her her tears anymore as they streamed down her face breaking her voice.

“Hey, hey” he cooed softly as he approached her in small steps. Ever since he saw her face, evidence of a long breakdown on it he had wanted to just pull her into his embrace. Now she was crying again and he couldn’t fight the urge as he gently placed his hands on her shoulder to soothe her.

The familiarity of his touch, his consolation punched y/n back to the good years just him and her and they rarely had these moments where she would be falling apart but she knew that if she did, he’d be there. Just like how he was here. But this time it wasn’t healthy, this wasn’t right even if it felt so. She pulled herself away from him shaking her head as she sat on the bed of her hotel room crying into her hands.

Hesitantly he followed her, this was all so instinctive. “Y/n…” he trailed off as he knelt in front of her as she sat on the edge of the bed. She had covered her face with her hands so he tried to gently remove them as to see her face. “It’s alright, you’re alright.” He soothed as he finally got to see her weeping face. He kept on wiping her tears as new flew down her face. “You are so much stronger than this, you’ve been okay before. You’ll be okay again, just breathe.” This is what he was perfect at, piecing her back together. She held the colour only his paint brush knew.

This scenario was almost like an extremely long déjà vu, this exact scenario y/n had been here so many times. Him comforting her, so willingly and so warm. As if it was worth being this hurt, she couldn’t get words out through her crying, that perfectly but she didn’t have to for he already knew. To be loved is to be known and he knew her like she was the last thing he’d ever know, the last he’d learn. “Can I hold you?” He asked softly, eyes expectant for a yes.

Nodding she hesitantly met his eyes and she recognised Alex for Alex. After so long, she didn’t think about anything else but the familiarity of the lover she once held. The one who was holding her now. He stood up and sat beside holding her, enlacing his arms around her. A warm embrace shielding her from an awful time he inflicted on her.

She returned his embrace as well, his hand rubbing her back in a repetitive motion her weeping dying down but he didn’t let go. He didn’t want to.

Alex nestled her closer to him, words unsaid and a vague understanding. Neither of them broke the cocoon of warmth. It almost felt like a fever dream to y/n, she wasn’t aware of any reality she’d let herself be in this situation in. But here she was. Slowly drifting off to sleep in his arms. He could tell she was, he settled the two of them in a lay-down position on the bed. He didn’t think she could fall asleep and he also didn’t want to move. With her small grip at his shirt with the two of them cuddling he figured she wouldn’t want him to leave either.

He planned to leave silently once she was sound asleep, as time went on he didn’t realise when he drifted off to sleep too. Just holding her in his arms, cuddling the two of them slept on their grievances entangled with one another.

—

HIII!!! I’ve got like two more chapters left to this pls let me know what you think or I will d!3 and don’t forget to drink water xx

@indierockgirrl @turnersverse @ladydraculasthings @libertyybellls @kelizai @sagegreensimmr @supernaturalandpain

[luvendiary]

Hello!!! Imagine hiccup telling reader "I'm in love with you" / "Marry me" out of blue after a stare down (can be established relationship or not muahahaha)

a/n: here it is at last! i had such a tough time with this one, and i’m sorry for the delay. i apologize for any historical or plot inaccuracy. ly! i hope you like it! requests are open.

Weakness

Being a viking was tough, especially if you were a girl. You had always been smart, but sometimes smart didn’t cut it, especially if you were a girl. You had to also put a tough front, and that sometimes meant being cold or acting as if nothing really bothered you. When you had started to train with the dragon riders, you had to be rough, as to not be taken advantage of.

“Don’t let anyone trade you a cat for a deer Y/N,” you father had told you when you were just a girl. Don’t be weak, don’t let anyone take advantage of you.

So you made sure no one ever did, you built up your walls and never allowed yourself to feel weak. You had a reputation to uphold.

The first time Hiccup joined your training, you had felt the need to join in on the others taunting, it made you internally scream realizing how weak he was. On the other hand, your heart felt moved by him, you soon realized that both reactions were due to the same feeling: you wanted him to be strong, you didn’t want anyone to take advantage of him.

So you stood up for him.

“Is this some kind a joke to you?!” Astrid screamed at him.

Hiccup laid on the floor, after failing to successfully fight-off the Deadly Nadder.

“Our parent’s war is about to become ours!-”

“Enough Astrid,” you said, walking down the hall and sheathing your daggers. “Give him a break.”

She scoffed in disbelief, as she glanced down at Hiccup with disdain. She then turned his back to him and approached you instead.

“Weakness is not something to be proud of Y/N,” Astrid whispered harshly before walking away.

You bit your tongue and remained stoic in your manner.

The voice from the boy you had just defended broke you from your trance, “Uh-, thank you…You really didn’t have to, I had it sorted.”

You glared down at him and just stomped away.

=-=

Over the years you and Hiccup had grown closer. When you caught him sneaking Toothless into the village you had freaked out, but decided against saying anything up until you could corner him and confront him about it. So that’s exactly what you did, to which in return he told you to meet him in the forest, where he took you on a beautiful ride at sunset -against your will, might you add.

You realized he was not weak, but rather different. He was strong in a way you could never be, and that stung. However, you had to learn to live with it. If you had to be weaker than someone, you was glad that someone was Hiccup.

Hiccup was like a vine creeping up the walls you had worked to hard to build, and you weren’t totally against it. It felt nice.

So you allowed yourself to bask in the happiness he made you feel, but nothing more. Although seeing him made you want to spend every waking moment in his company, you had decided that it would just make you gullible. You could not risk the chance that he would take advantage of you. This was for your own protection. You had to be strong.

=-=

When Hiccup pitched the idea of the Edge to his father, you had been there to back him up so it was only fitting that you two were the responsible ones to solve any strategical problem that came with it. While Astrid might have been a fantastic addition to your team, and she would’ve certainly been helpful on these sort of mission, she had her hands full with the dragon-riding academy she had started back at Berk. And that’s how you had ended up all night in Hiccup’s house trying to come up with an anti-fire contraption after Snoutlout’s dragon had burned yours down.

“Okay, what if we have a wheel, with buckets on it that collect water, just ready for the go,” you said. You were sprawled on the floor, staring at the ceiling as you fidgeted with one of the parts from Hiccup’s prosthetic leg.

“That would be a good idea, but us having to go for the buckets will take some time, which means that the fire would have already spread,” the brown-haired boy replied. “We need something we can pull on, or something. Something that’s already set up, and available in case of any accidents.”

“Pull…Ruff loves pulling Tuff’s hair, he always gets so mad” you said, a giggle escaping your lips in your light state of delirium.

Moments like these were special to Hiccup, he could see who you were without having to put up a front.

He chuckled and glanced down at you with false disdain, “Focus Y/N/N!”

You sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, still in a light fit of laughter.

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry…it’s just been a long day,” you replied with a sleep-ridden smile.

Hiccup took you in, sitting comfortably on his floor, hair messy and a drowsy grin adorning your lips. You looked breathtaking.

“I better get going, we’ll solve this tomorrow,” you said, standing up and gathering the things you could save from the fire.

“Wait,” Hiccup retaliated, “where are you going to sleep?”

“The meeting room,” you responded simply.

“The hell you are, you’ll freeze in there.”

“It’s not like we haven’t spent the night on Glacier Island Hiccup, it’s not a big deal.”

He stared down at you, a serious expression on his face, “You’ll stay here. It’s and order, as future Chief of Berk.”

You didn’t shy away from his stare, and instead met him halfway, “Good thing you’re not Chief yet, and we’re not in Berk.”

“You’re very stubborn, you know that?” he said without breaking eye-contact.

“So I’ve been told.”

“You should probably do something about that”.

“That wouldn’t make me a very good viking now, would it?”

“I think it would make you a fantastic viking”. He said, as he slowly approached you, a teasing smirk plastered on his face.

“Maybe, but a lot less fun too. Besides, who would put Snotlout in his place?” You retaliated, a shit-eating grin, challenging his.

“We can manage”.

“Oh, but I don’t think we can-“.

“I’m in love with you.”

You froze, and stumbled backwards slightly. You saw Hiccup’s expression change, his teasing demeanor became more sullen, as if he had realized what he had just said.

“What?” you uttered in disbelief.

Hiccup sighed and forced himself to not shy away.

“I’m in love with you Y/N, so I will not let you sleep out there alone and in the cold.”

You remained silent. Had you allowed all of this to go too far? You shook your head, trying to deny what you had just heard and fumbled with the door handle before running out into the pouring midnight rain.

“Y/N,” you heard Hiccup said from behind you. He was calm, and had a slight look of disappointment. “Come back inside please, you’re going to get sick.”

“Hiccup, you don’t… this is not…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said as he stepped out into the rain. “I know what I feel, it doesn’t mean you have to reciprocate. I just want you to be safe.”

“Why?!” you said in a slighter angrier tone than you had meant to. Everything was going so fast.

“Because I love you!” he screamed back.

“I don’t know how to love!” you replied, frustration evident in your voice.

Silence fell over both of you. You could see that your confession was something he was not expecting. The rain fell over both of you, as if stripping away every facade you had put so much effort in building.

Your rejection of weakness made you reject love, and now that you were doing exactly that you laid bare, in the weakest state you had ever found yourself in.

“I can teach you how,” he said, breaking the silence. It was merely but a whisper, but it felt as if he was shouting it to the world.

“W-What?”

“I can teach you, if you’d let me.”

Your eyes went wide, as you nodded your head hesitantly.

He smiled, and slowly approached you before carefully wrapping your arms around you, as if you were a fragile thing. You were okay with it for now. You were okay with being taken care of. You were okay with being held. And you were okay with being weak, because it was in this weakness were you found strength.

[reidingandwriting]

Speak Now (Hotch’s Version)

Chapter Two: i can see you

“I could see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission”

Word Count: 2,200 words

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings: Criminal Minds level of violence described, definitely Not how solving cases goes but!!, some cursing and some suggestive themes

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A/N: SOOO sorry for the delay in posting! I was at a convention this weekend and my queued post didn’t post for whatever reason :’) Chapter 3 is still scheduled for tomorrow so I hope you enjoy the back to back update!

“We’ve got a case,” JJ said and you stood up from your desk to walk to the conference room. You had only been a part of the BAU for two months or so now, but the novelty had yet to wear off yet. Every time JJ announced a new case, you got a rush. A wave of a familiar cologne enveloped you, and you felt an arm brush against your own.

“Sorry,” Hotch’s voice filled your ears, the single word causing a chill to go down your spine.

“No problem,” Your voice came out quieter than you expected and you internally cursed. Where did you begin with Aaron Hotchner? Ever since you met at the FBI Banquet, he had occupied your mind. Your first day, you were pleased that he remembered you and since then, he’s seemed… not quite distant but not quite friendly with you either. Not like he was at the banquet. He was professional as his reputation said he would be, but you were wishing there was more to your relationship. You wanted to lean into the brushed shoulders, you wanted to initiate contact with him, but you didn’t want to jeopardize anything with him, especially being so new to the team. But you let yourself wonder, what would happen if you acted on your impulses? If you let yourself think about it long enough, you could see him waiting down the hall for you. Ideally pressed against the wall, but you digress. You shook your head slightly to clear your thoughts as you walked into the conference room, and you took your seat between Spencer and Emily.

“Alright, my pretties,” Penelope greeted once everyone was seated and you looked up at the screen behind her. “Houston has reached out for our help and this one is a bit of a doozy.” Pictures flashed behind Penelope and you felt your stomach turn a little at the pictures.

“Hello, overkill,” Emily muttered and you hummed in agreement.

“We’ve clearly got a very angry person on our hands. There’s been five victims over the last two weeks, and their kill rate is starting to pick up.” Penelope said.

“They’ve killed men and women, no obvious preference for gender,” JJ said and you nodded.

“Can’t say for certain if they’re victims of opportunity, though,” you said. “I don’t know the exact area they’re acting in, but the victims all seem eerily similar. Hair color, skin color, similar builds… Someone is the object of their aggression but our unsub hasn’t gotten to their target yet.”

“And the kills are getting rushed, more violent,” Derek said.

“Wheels up in twenty,” Hotch said as he started to stand.

“You know,” Spencer started and you glanced over at him, “they look similar to you, Y/N.” The room froze and you felt everyone’s eyes turn to you.

“Don’t even say that about my lovely,” Penelope gasped dramatically and you rolled your eyes playfully at her antics.

“There are some similarities,” Rossi said and you looked up at the pictures.

“Similar features, sure, but I don’t think I’ve done anything to piss off anyone to the point of murder in Houston,” you drawled and the room started to disperse. Hotch stayed in the room, his gaze locked onto you.

“If you feel uncomfortable on this case at any time,” Hotch trailed off and you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine, Hotch. I’m not worried. But I promise, I’ll let you know if I get uncomfortable.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nodded in dismissal and you slipped out of the conference room.

-

A week later, you held an ice pack to your head where you sat in the back of an ambulance as you waited to be cleared. Turns out, they don’t call Spencer a genius for nothing. You were a perfect victim for your unsub- Officer Josh Hann- and you found yourself ambushed by him a few hours ago. You were lucky to only get away with a concussion and a few bumps and bruises. Derek stood beside you, his phone held to your ear.

“Yes, Pen, I promise I’m fine.”

“And how is our Boss Man doing?” Penelope asked and you barely repressed a cough.

“Fine, Pen.” Said Boss Man was currently a few yards away, his gaze glued to you as Rossi talked to him.

“Sounds like the perfect excuse for him to watch over you,” Penelope teased and you felt your cheeks start to burn.

“Bye, Penelope.” Penelope cackled as she hung up and you rolled your eyes then winced. “Ow.”

“I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear any of that conversation,” Derek teased and you kicked out at him, and Derek laughed as he narrowly missed your leg.

“You're lucky my vision is still a little off or I would’ve got you,” you huffed. The paramedic chose that moment to clear you and you slowly stood, grabbing onto Derek to steady yourself.

“Easy, pretty thing. Hotch is already glaring at me,” Derek lowered his voice and this time, you made contact when you stomped your foot. “You know Penelope can’t keep her mouth closed after a little wine. You’re lucky it was just me she spilled to.”

“I would resign immediately if he knew. Just throw my badge and gun as far as I could and run,” you said and Derek laughed.

“You know there’s a wager going on when he’ll find out.” Another stomp to Derek’s foot silenced him as Hotch walked over. Derek dismissed himself when Hotch was a few feet away

“Are you ready to go?” Hotch asked and you nodded, only wincing slightly after.

“So ready. I want to sleep so bad,” you admitted and Hotch hummed in response. You both started to walk to the cars, where the rest of the team had started to load up. “Not ready to be woken up every few hours to make sure I’m still coherent. I think a little risk of brain damage is worth the uninterrupted sleep.” You huffed and the corner of Hotch’s lip turned up into a small smile.

“I’m sure you’re not much worse than Jack is waking up,” Hotch said and you turned to look at him. Sensing your questioning look, Hotch spoke again a second later. “If you’re fine with me checking on you. I just… I’d feel better if I was the one to check on you. You already got hurt on my watch.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Hotch. But thank you.”

The rest of the night was relatively calm, what bits you remember clearly. You would sleep for a little, be woken up and asked a few questions by Hotch, and he would return to his bed a few feet from your own to repeat the process throughout the night. God, his morning voice would live in your memories forever. You weren’t sure what happened that night, but something changed between the two of you. And you had to admit, you liked the changes.

You found yourself paired with Hotch more often when the team split up. Hotch’s shoulders would brush against yours more often, and when Hotch laid his hand on your shoulder one day, you swear your brain short circuited. Not that you would know because you genuinely think you blacked out briefly from the contact, but Emily and Derek would never let you forget it. As time passed, you noticed you were watched by the team more often, especially when you were near Hotch. The day Hotch sat beside you on the plane, you swore you heard a squeal come from Emily before she was shushed by JJ. And this extra time spent with Hotch was great for you, but so bad for your imagination. You found yourself lost in thought more often, like a lovesick teenager. Imagining things with Hotch you know you’d never get to do, knowing he would never reciprocate your feelings. You’d stick with daydreaming for now; pretending he was waiting at the end of the hall for you when you left work. Pretending it was his suit jacket thrown on the floor instead of your own, his want for you high enough to discard his jacket like it was nothing. You could only dream… or so you thought.

You had been working on paperwork from your last case, when Hotch dropped a folder onto your desk as he walked by. You furrowed your brows as you opened the folder, and you could barely keep your expression under control as you read the sticky note inside- Meet me in my office tonight.You had to read over the note a few times for it to really set in and you glanced up, watching as Hotch went upstairs to his office as if nothing happened.

The rest of work passed by agonizingly slow, and you busied yourself with paperwork you had put off from the week. Slowly, the rest of the BAU agents had trickled out; even if it took all your self control to not push Spencer out of the building when he finally left ten minutes ago. You took a deep breath as you stood, and you made your way upstairs towards Hotch’s office. His blinds were already closed and you knocked on his door.

“Come in.” Hotch’s voice was muffled by the shut door and you slowly opened the door. Sweet Jesus, he wanted you dead. Hotch’s jacket was off, tie slightly loosened, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and you swear your brain once again malfunctioned at the sight.

“I, uh, got your note,” You said dumbly and you fought the urge to run out of the building. “Obviously,” you added and Hotch graced you with a smile, a huff of laughter leaving his lips. The sound helped you relax a little and you smiled softly at Hotch.

“You’re nervous. You’re usually not nervous around me.” The observation was surface level, but it felt like you were being studied. “If you’d rather go-”

“No!” You blurted before you cleared your throat, and you took a seat across from Hotch’s desk. “No. I guess I’m just, I’m wondering why I’m here.”

“Do you have any idea why?” Hotch asked and you leaned forward.

“I have an idea. You could even say I have a desire for why you called me here, but,” you propped your elbows on his desk, “why don’t you clear the air, Agent Hotchner?” A few moments passed in a deafening silence, your eyes locked with Hotch’s.

“I’ve tried to ignore it,” Hotch started. “I felt something different when I met you at the banquet, and I didn’t know what that feeling was. Intrigue, for sure. Then you showed up one day, and Strauss introduced you as my new agent.”

“What can I say? I like being a mysterious entity,” you said.

“And you continued to be one, and it’s gotten stronger since that case you were injured. You’re constantly preoccupying my mind,” Hotch said and you slowly stood up. You rounded his desk and sat on top of it, and you slowly reached out. Your hand found its way to his tie, and you gave it a firm tug, pulling him closer to you.

“Wanna know a secret?” You asked, leaning down closer to him. You were so close, you noticed some gold flecks in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before. “You’ve been on my mind since we first met.” You weren’t sure who closed the gap, but suddenly lips were on yours, and Hotch’s hands were on your hips and you gasped as you were yanked into his lap. You grabbed at his shirt with one hand, your other finding its home in his hair, and you felt a surge of pride when a groan slipped from Hotch’s lips. “Fuck, Aaron.”

Hotch backed away slightly and you almost whined at the loss. “What was that?”

“Aaron..?” You hesitantly repeated and Hotch pulled you closer.

“Fucking hell.” Hotch’s lips were back on yours and you lost yourself, preoccupied with him. You didn’t know how long had passed before you pulled apart, breathing heavy, and Hotch’s forehead rested against your own.

“Penelope will have a field day if she finds out about this.” You breathed out a laugh and Hotch shifted so you were looking at him.

“And what exactly do you want this to be?” Hotch seemed… nervous? Vulnerable? Something different from the confident man you had become infatuated with.

“As much as I loved making out with you, ideally?” You ran your fingers gently through Hotch’s hair. “I’d like to try getting dinner with you. Maybe spend some time together, not hidden in your office.” You smiled at Hotch. “I believe that’s what they call dating these days.”

“I haven’t dated in a while,” Hotch said and you shrugged.

“We’ll figure it out, yeah?” You asked and Hotch nodded. You pressed a gentle kiss to Hotch’s cheek and you let your head rest against his shoulder.

“I think I can work with that.”