#this really blew up... and considering the news... very understandable

[wandering-tides]

Are you kidding me.... ARE YOU GODDAMN KIDDING ME!????

You are telling me to abandon the ship i've been shipping for 10+ yrs, that the fandom has been shipping for 20+ yrs?????

I am sorry but, that's just insane. How could you do that to us??? It hasn't even been 2 weeks since Kaishin day and you drop that on us Gosho?????

How could you make kaishin, cousins just to justify their similar looks (and other similarities).....

Yes, I'll forever believe this was the reason why he gave us a cousin reveal (after 20+ yrs!!).... and also cuz kaishin was taking over his canon couple,,, no matter what other reason might be there or what he may give.

You wanted them to be cousins from the beginning? Then why the hell did you wait for over 20 yrs to reveal that??? Yeah no, I am not believing in any of the reasons Gosho gives for "revealing" them as cousins after over two decades.

Canon can go into the trash can and fuck itself (and f u too Gosho).

If they were going to be cousins from the beginning, they should have never given us the kaishin food for all these yrs. Neither in the manga, nor in the movies.

All that poetry Shinichi spouts everytime he is describing Kaito? That one time Shinichi held his dick? Those kissing noises in M 3? That trust they show in each other M 8 (and that train arc??)?? And I can go on and on and on about all the times they added flame to the fire and made kaishin shippers grow into what it is today.

And then suddenly they drop "cousins" on us

And you want me to accept that?? Yeah, no. Not gonna happen.

Kaishin has helped me cope with so many things, I am not gonna drop it, I am not accepting this canon.

If people want to, they are free to do so. If they want to purge their kaishin fanworks, you can do that (tho it would be incredibly sad to loose the fanworks. This fandom has some of the best fics and fanworks i've come across), if you want to leave the ship, you can do that too (which, again, would be very sad, cuz I've met some of the nicest people in this fandom, and it's one of the few fandom ship spaces that is not so tixic... as compared to many other fandom ship groups)

And that's all from me for now over this reveal. I just had to get this out of the system y'know? This reveal sucks. They are giving kaishin akai/akemi treatment, dammit.

[moonchild9350]

Still Life and Nude Surprises

Summary: you need to prep for an art show and sign up for a class for extra practice. the model you’re assigned however turns out to be someone you know very well.

Pairing: best friend!Felix x fab!reader

Genre: friends to lovers au, fluff, smut-18+MDNI

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: nude modeling, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, mention of overstimulation, clit play, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, implied multiple rounds

Notes: another fic from when I was feral sorry not sorry lol this was fun to write though and it’s Felix so…. lol

If you enjoyed please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keeps me motivated ♡

Divider by @cafekitsune

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

"Hold still!"

You chastised the blonde who was at the moment wiggling around in his seat, his eyes focused on his computer screen as he blasted god knows what on the latest game he acquired.

"Y/n! Lemme just finish this round, then I'll do anything you say," he responded as he showed off his biggest pouty face.

You sighed, not being able to say no to that face. Felix smiled and went back to his game, his fingers tap tapping on the keyboard.

Felix is your best friend, he has been since you were neighbors as a kid. You've done everything together, from attending dances as each others dates, sleepovers as kids, endure heartbreaks, and even live within the same building as adults.

You couldn't live without him, your relationship going beyond your wildest dreams.

Now, you were trying to sketch your best friend as you were trying to improve your still life skills, preparing for an art show that you had signed up for. Everything was going well until he received a text from a gamer buddy, wanting to go for a round on a new game he recently started.

You set your sketch pad down and watched your friend as he scrunched his face in concentration, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he shot down enemy after enemy. It was pretty humorous to watch, as everytime he missed his target he'd scream "noooo!" before concentrating once more.

You knew it was a lost cause, understanding once he started gaming, it would be hours until he would stop. You gathered up your stuff, packing it into your bag.

You got up and walked over to Felix, ruffling up his hair, obscuring his view of the computer screen.

"Y/n!" he exclaimed as he blew his hair out of his face, the strands framing his face haphazardly as a result.

"I'm gonna go home, it's getting late. I"ll see you later ok?"

Felix took a chance and looked away from the screen to you, "I'm sorry, I'm a horrible model."

You chuckled and slapped his arm, the boy yelping at the sting. "No you're not, you just get distracted easily."

You continued to laugh as you walked to his door, listening to Felix mutter under his breath something along the lines of "that's not true."

Closing his door, you walked the few doors down to your apartment, dropping your bag on the hallway table. You really did want to practice your skills as the show was getting closer day by day and you were banking on using Felix to start.

You grabbed your laptop and plopped on the couch, propping your feet on the table in front of you. Opening up the search engine, you began to look for classes that you could attend to help you practice.

You came across a particularly promising site, the company offering a variety of classes from group sessions to private ones. You clicked on the private session info bar, as the prospect of it just being you and the model seemed appealing.

You noticed they offered private nude modeling sessions as well, your eyebrow raising in interest. This would be the perfect opportunity to study the human body and to improve your skills on drawing it.

The company had a few sessions open over the next few days which would be perfect as you were free. You clicked on the time slot for tomorrow's private session, your mind running over the pros and cons.

You've never sketched anyone nude, the prospect seeming a little embarrassing to you, but how would you get better if you didn't step out of your comfort zone? Plus, these models were trained for this, and it was with a reputable company.

The cost of the class wasn't much either, definitely within your budget. You filled in your information, whatever they asked for. Once done, your hand hovered over the book button, as you considered what to do.

"Fuck it," you said, bringing your finger down to press book.

A confirmation page popped up saying your session was successfully booked and they'd see you tomorrow. You let out a breath and closed your laptop.

This was really going to happen. You wondered if you'd have a male or female model, noticing there was no option to choose. Shaking your head, you decided not to think about the session until the time came, opting to go in with a fresh and unbiased mind.

You went about the rest of your night, prepping everything you would need for tomorrow. Settling into bed you pulled the covers up to your chin.

You were ready for tomorrow and whatever it were to bring.

--

It was a beautiful day, the sun shining, the weather warm but not too hot. The walk to the art studio wasn't too far away, the building being within walking distance.

You were giddy with excitement, your anxieties gone about the details of the session. You texted Felix to let him know you would be occupied today and would be over later on. He didn't mind as he apparently had something to do as well.

You approached a chic building, the outer walls appearing old yet charming to fit the town. You opened the door and walked in, met with the scent only an art studio can provide, from the scents of paints to fresh canvases. The scent of coffee drifted in the air as well, as there was a fresh pot that seemed to have been brewed in the corner of the reception area.

You approached the front desk, greeting the worker behind it.

"Hi, my name is y/n, I'm booked for a private session at 10:30?"

The lady looked in a book on the desk, her manicured fingers running down the page to the appointed time. She tapped her fingers on the page, finding your name as expected.

"We have you all set, would you like to pay now?"

You nodded and pulled out your card. She took care of the payment and then smiled.

"Have a seat, someone will be with you shortly to take you to the studio."

"Thank you," you said, walking towards a comfy looking chair in the corner.

You sat down, cradling your bag to your side. The atmosphere was quiet, the occasional sound of chatter meeting your ears. You watched as people walked to and from, their focus on getting to their destination.

Not long after sitting down, a young woman appeared calling your name. You hurriedly grabbed your bag and walked towards her.

"Ready?" she asked with a smile.

"Absolutely," you responded as you followed the lady down the hall.

She stopped at a door, the placard reading studio eight. It was more secluded than the other studios, the room being near the back of the hall. The lady opened the door and stepped in, you following right behind her.

As you crossed the threshold, you took in the surroundings of the room. It wasn't too small but not too big. The walls were covered with sketches and paintings, portraying various body types. Each painting was beautiful, the artist capturing the details of the human body in intricate detail.

There was a ceiling to floor mirror along one wall, the whole room visible in its reflection. In the center of the room, there was a chair next to a series of boxes, linen draped over it to make a makeshift bed. You eyed the stool next to an easel, which you assumed is where you would be sitting.

"So, this is where your session will take place. You have this space for four hours. If you need assistance of any sort, just press this button here and one of the staff members will assist you."

You followed her hand as she pointed to a blue button next to the door. You nodded and faced the lady again, waiting for her to continue.

"You have opted for a nude model for your session correct?"

"Yes, I have," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush at her question.

"They will enter after I leave. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can ask them to robe again, they will not mind. I think that's all. Any questions?"

You shook your head no, as everything was pretty straight forward.

"Great! Go ahead and get settled, your model will be in shortly!"

You thanked the lady and walked over to the easel. Setting your bag down, you began to pull out your sketch book and various pencils, setting them up accordingly. You sat on the stool, crossing your legs as you waited for your model to arrive.

It didn't take long until a different door than you came in opened, a person stepping in within the room. It was a flurry of movement as they walked into the room with their head down.

"Sorry, I'm a little late," the person said in a deep voice.

Wait...you knew that voice. Shocked, your head snapped up to look more closely at the person. You couldn't believe it, that person was...

"Y/n?!"

"Felix?!"

Your model was Felix? Your best friend? What the fuck?!

You were confused and shocked. Felix seemed to be as well as he stared at you with his mouth wide open.

You eyed your friend who was prepped in a white robe, the material seeming soft and cozy on his skin. His long hair was in a ponytail, framed away from his face, his numerous freckles on display.

"What are you doing here?" you asked in disbelief.

"I could ask you the same thing," Felix responded as he came closer to you.

"I uh...I signed up for a class to work on my skills since you know..." you said, your voice trailing off at the end.

The atmosphere was tense, neither one of you knowing what to do. You never expected to see your best friend here, especially since he never mentioned he modeled for an art studio...nude at that.

Felix nodded at your response, "I work here as a side gig...make some extra cash you know?"

You nodded, accepting his answer.

"Why did you never tell me you did this?" you inquired, curiosity getting the best of you.

Felix fiddled with the strap of his robe, his gaze anywhere but yours. After a moment he cleared his throat.

"Well, I thought you'd find it weird. I mean I'm naked in front of people and they draw me in the nude. How would I bring that up with you?"

He had a point. That would definitely make for an interesting conversation. Now the question becomes do you go on with the session? Sketch your best friend nude? You could make him keep the robe on.

"Do you...do you still want to proceed with this?" Felix asked, his hands gesturing toward the makeshift bed in the center of the room.

"I'm ok if you are," you said shrugging.

Felix cleared his throat, surprised at your answer. Recovering quickly, he said, "Of course."

You nodded and watched as he padded toward the bed, stopping in front of it for a moment. His hands went to the strap of his robe, his fingers fiddling with the knot before he stopped.

"You ok with sketching me nude?"

"Yes Lix, I've seen you naked before."

You really have and with years of being best friends, it was bound to happen.

Felix nodded before he grasped the strap again, this time untying the knot.

You watched as the knot fell away, the straps now dangling at his side. He brought his hands up, to grab the soft material and slide it off his shoulders. With a flurry of movement, he let the robe fall, the fabric pooling at his feet.

You gasped, your eyes glued to your best friend as he stood in the center of the room, his back to you. Taking the chance, your eyes roamed his back, taking in his muscular frame, down to his lithe waist, which you've always admired. You smirked at seeing his ass wanting to reach out and smack it.

Felix took a deep breath and slowly turned around to face you. You watched with bated breath as he now stood facing you, his eyes on yours.

Your eyes drifted down his torso, eyeing his nipples, the pinkish-brown buds perky in the cold room. You eyed him further down, down, down until you came to his pelvis, a happy trail of hair leading down to his cock.

You subconsciously licked your lips, your eyes glued to his soft cock lying amongst a smattering of hair, his balls hanging nice and delicate. You couldn't help but admire his cock, wondering how it would feel in your hands, how it would feel...

"Earth to y/n! My eyes are up here pervert!" Felix exclaimed while snapping his fingers to get your attention.

You snapped your eyes up to his face, feeling your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You definitely were just checking out your best friend, the feeling in your panties a little more wet than when you came in.

You cleared your throat and gestured toward the bed, "Umm, wanna get started?"

Felix nodded, "How do you want me?"

"You can just lounge on the bed for now."

Felix nodded again and sat on the bed, swinging his legs up to rest on the linens. You walked over to your best friend and stopped in front of him, your hands reached out. You hesitated for a moment, looking into his eyes asking silent permission to touch him.

"Go ahead, position me how you want," Felix chuckled.

You took his hand in yours and draped it across his face, his fingers dangling delicately on the side of his cheeks. You angled his head to look toward where you would be sitting. You looked at his legs, taking a breath before propping one of his legs up.

Once finished, you quickly took a step back, eyeing your work. Satisfied, you sat down on your stool and grabbed your sketch book.

You picked up a pencil and began to sketch, easily getting lost in your work. You looked up at Felix every now and then, to get some details solidified in your head before you translated it onto paper.

It was silent in the room, neither one of you speaking. It was not as awkward as you thought it would be, but rather comforting.

Time passed and you got more of your sketch done, the outline being nearly complete.

Felix was staring at you, watching your hands dance across the page, sketching his frame. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, admiring how you got lost in your work, that not even your best friend posing naked for you can distract you.

He loved how you let out a small smile when you got a detail just right or how you scrunched up your face and bit your lip when something did not seem right.

You were beautiful, that he couldn't deny and you were even more beautiful in this moment, sitting on a stool in an art studio underneath the dim lights.

Felix started to feel warm, despite laying right under the air conditioner, the feeling spreading down his belly and settling at his cock. He could feel the blood slowly fill out his cock, the appendage slightly harder than before, laying haphazardly against his pelvis.

He willed himself to breath, to cool down, not wanting you to see the effect you have on him. He could never live that down. He tried to look everywhere but your face, especially when your head was down. But to no avail, the feeling increased, his cock twitching slightly in response.

You looked up at your friend to get another look at his torso for shading the area on your sketch, but froze at what you saw. Felix seemed to be in turmoil, his breath shaky, his eyes darting everywhere around the room.

Your eyes traveled to his cock, noticing how it seemed to have hardened some since you last took a look at him. You thought you would feel embarrassed, however, you felt quite the opposite.

You lingered on his cock a little longer, a a pleasurable shock traveling down your body and straight to your core. You pressed your thighs together in response, feeling your slick slowly seep into your panties.

You cleared your throat and went back to your sketch, not wanting Felix to catch you staring, not let him know that you were aware he was hard while you sketched him.

Felix was turned on, that was the brunt of it. He tried to stop his reaction to you, but he just couldn't do it. He felt his cock hardened until it stood fully at attention, the tip pressing up against his pelvis.

It was torture laying there, only a few feet away from you, his cock so hard it was starting to hurt. He wanted to touch himself, relieve the ache, and maybe just maybe you could help him out too.

He watched as you lifted your head up once more, gasping at the state of him.

You were in shock, noticing now that Felix's cock was fully hard, the member seeming angry and red at the lack of attention it received. You could see something shiny glistening on the hairs littering his pelvis. You watched as a drop of pre-cum oozed from his tip, the liquid dripping down his shaft until it reached the hairs, getting caught in the thickness.

Looking at Felix's face, you could tell he was miserable, as he breathing was shallow and he was clenching and unclenching his hands. You knew he wanted to touch himself to relieve himself of the ache he was feeling.

"Felix?" you questioned, your eyes reaching his. "Do you wanna touch yourself?"

Felix's eyes widened at the question, disbelief written on his face.

"I'm..I'm sorry y/n, I just couldn't help it," he stuttered, lowering his eyes in embarrassment.

"It's ok," you responded with a smile. "You can touch yourself, make yourself feel good. I'll continue to sketch."

Felix stared at you for a moment more before he took his other hand that was at his side and placed it on his chest.

You watched as he gripped his aching cock and gave it a squeeze as he moaned lowly. He shifted his hand upwards, his thumb pressing on his slit before gathering up some of the leaking pre-cum.

He began to stroke his cock, steady but slowly, his fist reaching the base just to travel back up and circle around the head. Felix kept eye contact with you, your sketching forgotten, as you took to watching your best friend pleasure himself.

He increased the speed of his wrist movement, wet sounds from the aid of his precum filling the room. With each moan he let out, you felt your pussy clench over nothing. You were soaking wet, your panties stuck to your skin by now, your clit throbbing to be touched.

"Y/n," Felix said, his voice raspy as he continued to stroke his cock. "Can you touch yourself? Pleasure yourself for me?"

You looked into Felix's pleading eyes, watching as he licked his lips and swallowed. You didn't give a moments thought at your friend's request, instead ridding yourself of your leggings.

You stood before Felix, your fingers going to the band of your panties. You watched Felix's eyes drag to the piece of cloth, his eyes widening at the wet patch present on your panties, the material sticking to your skin, leaving nothing to the imagination as the outline of your lips could be seen.

You slowly slid your panties down your legs and set them aside. Felix let out a groan at the sight of your pussy, his cock twitching in his hand.

You sat back down on the stool and spread your legs, your wet folds separating to show him your entrance. He kept his eyes glued to your pussy as you brought a finger to your clit, flicking the bud and the rubbing it gently.

You sighed out as you dipped a finger lower into your hole, gathering your slick that was pooling there before bringing it back to your clit. You circled it gently, applying the slightest pressure, a jolt of pleasure causing your pussy to clench.

Time passed as you both sat there, eyes on each other as you pleasured yourself, the room filled with wet sounds and the mix of both of your moans.

You matched Felix's pace as he stroked his cock, harder and faster, his hips bucking up into his hands. You let out a whimper as you felt the tightening within your belly, the coil tightening, filling your core with warmth.

"Felix, m'close," you moaned as your fingers slipped and slid around your clit, your pussy getting wetter by the minute.

"Yeah? Cum for me? Will you cum for me like a good girl?" Felix cooed. "I'm close too, fuck."

Your breathing increased as the coil expanded in your belly, the feeling getting larger and larger until you tipped over the edge, your walls spasming, clenching down rhythmically as you rode out your high.

You didn't stop rubbing your clit, watching as Felix let out a groan as he bucked his hips, spurts of cum landing on his belly creating a painting with its pearly white sheen.

You pulled your hand away, the feeling of overstimulation settling in. You looked at your best friend, both of you breathing hard as you came down from your highs.

You chuckled as you noticed Felix was pretty much in the same position you put him in, his resolve at staying true to his role admirable.

"You um...you can keep sketching if you'd like," Felix said, his voice soft with uncertainty.

"We literally just got off together and you want me to continue sketching?" you asked incredulously as you cocked your eyebrow.

Felix cleared his throat, his body slighly shifting on the makeshift bed causing his softened cock to jiggle.

"Well...yeah, you paid and all..."

You stared at your best friend in disbelief. You hated that he had a point, you did pay a pretty sum to be here today. But here you were, nude from the waist down, your nether region a mess. You sighed and picked up your pencil, moving your hand to start sketching again.

There was silence once more as you got into the zone, focusing on shading in your sketch. You began to hum to yourself, adjusting yourself sligthly on the stool.

Felix returned to staring at you, watching you get lost in your work. He tried not to remember that you were naked waist down, your pussy seconds away from being on display if you decided to open your legs.

The thought caused arousal to seep through his body once more. He cursed silently as he felt his cock twitch. Why does he have to be turned on by you? He's never had this reaction before for any other client.

Maybe it was because they were strangers, people he didn't know, while you were his best friend, his life line.

He couldn't help it as his thoughts wandered, wondering how you would feel wrapped around him. He wondered how you would sound as he pounded into you, making you feel better than any of your little flings ever could.

He peeked down to look at his lower half as he silently groaned noticing his cock was fully hardened, resting against his belly once more.

You looked up to gather reference and noticed Felix's cock was hard, more of his precum leaking out and onto his belly. You squeezed your thighs together at the sight as your tongue darted out and licked your lips.

"Fuck this," you said, tossing your sketch book to the side.

You stood up and walked towards Felix, lifting your shirt up and over your head in the process. You unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor, your tits spilling out and on view for your friend.

Felix scrambled up quickly and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you toward him until you stood right in front of his face. He grasped your waist and smashed his lips to yours, letting out a moan as your lips moved with his.

Your hand reached down to grasp his cock, giving it a squeeze. Felix moaned against your lips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

"Can I fuck you y/n?" Felix asked with hope in his eyes.

You've both come this far, why stop now you thought.

"Sure," you agreed as more arousal gushed out of your pussy and onto your thighs at the thought of his cock filling you up.

Felix helped maneuver you onto the makeshift bed as he hovered above you. He spread your legs and pushed them upwards, giving him a clear view of your wet pussy, your slick coating your folds and dripping down your ass.

He brought his thumb down to press against your swollen clit that was peeking through your folds. You let out a whine at the sensation, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"I've waited for this moment for a long time y/n," Felix said, his eyes lifting up to your face.

"Me too," you confessed, your heart swelling at the thought that you both have liked each other probably for years.

He really was your person, your everything, and you would love nothing more than to give yourself fully to him.

Felix smiled down at you before swiping his finger over your clit again, watching as you wiggled your hips at his touch.

"I'm gonna give you my cock now," he grunted, grasping the appendage at the base.

He rubbed his cock through your folds, collecting your slick before pressing against your entrance, his eyes glued to how his head disappeared within your hole.

You mewled as he withdrew his cock just to press into your entrance again as he fucked you with just the tip.

"Felix, please," you whimpered, holding your legs open even more.

"Want my cock hm?" Felix asked, his eyes on yours. He watched as your mouth hung open, soft moans falling out as he teased you, spreading your folds open with just his head.

He was faring no better as he felt a shutter run through him, every time he sunk his tip within your warmth.

"Fuck me," you commanded, your eyes snapping open and staring Felix down.

You reached for his cock, your hand wrapping around the shaft. You wiggled your hips attempting to take more of his cock, ignoring how Felix was laughing at you.

"Ok, ok, don't get your panties in a twist," Felix chuckled. "Oh wait, you lost those hours ago, so desperate for my cock y/n."

Without any other warning, he slammed his hips into yours with a groan, sinking his length within your walls until bottomed out.

"Fuck, so warm and tight," he grunted as he began to thrust his hips into yours, withdrawing his cock just until he was all the way out and pushing back in.

You pussy clenched around him, the feeling of his cock stretching you out causing waves of pleasure to settle in your pelvis.

Felix grasped your legs, pushing them further to your chest as he pummeled his hips to yours, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. He couldn't believe how tight you were, how your walls molded around his cock perfectly, like you were made for him.

His moans mingled with yours, as you both chased your highs. Felix licked his fingers and brought them back down to your clit, the digits slipping and sliding along the nub, causing shocks of pleasure to wreck your frame.

"Shit, I'm close, gonna cum. Can I come inside?" Felix panted, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

"Please, need your cum!" you whimpered as your pussy contracted at the thought of his cum within you.

Felix slammed his hips into yours once more before stilling, ropes of his cum flooding your walls.

"That's it, take my cum," Felix cooed as he continued to finger your clit.

You let out a loud moan as you came, your arousal seeping out of your pussy, coating Felix's cock as he thrusted his hips into yours a few more times to help you ride out your high.

Felix peered down at you, his eyes searching yours as you panted, your hands running down your body. He slowly withdrew his softening cock, his eyes glued to how his cum leaked out of your pussy, a smile gracing his face.

He leaned down to press a kiss on your lips once more as he whispered "I love you."

You carded your fingers through his hair, eagerly returning the kiss.

"And I love you Felix," you cooed.

You both laid there a little longer, exchanging soft kisses, neither one of you in a rush to move.

After a while, Felix perked up, mischief in his eyes.

"Wanna keep sketching? You still have another hour."

You smirked at the suggestion, knowing exactly where it will lead, and that was definitely ok with you.

"Sure thing, let's go for another round," you teased with a grin.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght

[softerhaze]

Hello! I checked my itch.io donations recently and had close to $400 sitting in there which completely blew me away, I can’t thank you guys enough! I decided to round up and split the donations into 2 $200 donations to PBS and NPR. If you weren’t aware, DJT (🍊) recently signed an executive order that called for any federal agencies providing funding to any public broadcasting agencies to immediately cease.

Personally, I grew up watching PBS kids shows via KET and, even now, I rely on NPR and PBS for local and national news since it’s 100% paywall free. While I’m very happy to send my itch donations their way, I really encourage anyone who consumes publicly broadcast content (and those who don’t but still understand what a valuable resource it is!) to consider donating to these networks. For PBS, roughly 10% of their funding comes from the federal government, so while a funding cut won’t shutter them entirely, it will massively impact staffing and program production.

You can donate to PBS here, donate to NPR here, and learn more about protecting public media here

Thanks! 🫶

[babextoken]

so I can have you to myself...for once

summary: new boyfriend!virgin!vessel thinks the world of you and can't think of a better way to show it than giving himself to you completely

vessel x fem!reader 𐙚

head's up/tags: switchy desperate lovesick vessel, sweet gone feral, smut with feelings, loss of virginity (lots of checking in and sensitivity), new established relationship, vessel is touch starved and simping, pet names (craziest one is puppy-girl tbh), p in v, dirty talk

Something Vessel didn’t tell you when you first matched on Tinder was that he was…well…how would he have even put it? Touch starved? Desperate? Needy? But you seemed to understand that. You were always holding hands while walking, or in a tight embrace if you were waiting at a crosswalk, or your legs and feet were touching while you sat. You get the idea. As much as he enjoyed the affection, he needed more. While he didn’t out himself as being, well, completely desperate for any kind of physical affection, he was upfront about being a virgin. Sure, he’d fooled around. He’d been blown plenty of times backstage and at parties…and yes he knows where the clitiros AND g-spot are, thank you for asking. But it never led to intercourse. In fact, it didn’t always lead to a relationship or a text back. A lot of times the timing was just off or the person was wrong for him or neither party wanted to. Which was completely understandable, but he had started to wonder if something was wrong with him. That was until he met you.

You were witty, kind, fun. Easy to talk to. And deeply into him. Vessel understood the allure of him. His aura and what came with it physically but otherwise he couldn't understand why you would want to stick around for more. Yeah sure he put himself out there on Tinder during a break from tour and he wanted the attention, but you…you were an angel. You made him take a step back and really consider what he’d been doing all this time. The drive to feel someone and something from others was strong for him. The sex he’d had wasn’t “consummating” by the wider society’s standards, and he was at peace with that, but he finally saw some truth in “saving yourself for the right person.” And it all came from a very sweet genuine place. He thought the world of you! But the other drive... To taste. To ravish. To fuck. That was very much running in the background.

When you two started having serious conversations about your histories and preferences, he was nervous. When he admitted that he’d never actually fucked someone, you chuckled just the tiniest bit, making him blush. 

 “What’s so funny?”

You just shook your head and looked past him, trying to keep a level head.  “I’m not laughing at you. Just myself.”

“Oh. Why…at you?”

“Because I could have really fucked things up. Do you know how hard it is to be good around you? To not just…rip your clothes off every time you come over? To not immediately drop to my knees with my tongue out like a greedy little puppy-girl?” You paused and met his gaze. Poor guy was blushing and breathing like he’d been out in the heat. “I don’t want to scare you. It’s not like I would push you or anything, but I’m glad I know. If you’d ever like to…you know…do something with me. Just let me know. I think we could have a lot of fun together.”

And that’s when Vessel started loving you and simultaneously cursing you. Loving you because you were so sweet, and patient, and gorgeous, and fun, and thoughtful and and and(at this point whoever was listening would pat his shoulder and say, “we get it, mate, you’re whipped”). But he cursed the day he mentioned being a virgin to you because he couldn’t get that image out of his head: you on your knees, begging for his cock. You saw all his scars and flaws and still wanted him in the rawest, most basic way. That blew his mind.

…

On the night you two finally slept together, you stayed out later than usual. Probably past midnight. But you don’t care. He clung to you all night at that stupid party and tried to make out with you in the Uber like a horny teenager. It was adorable. He was adorable. Back at your place, you fiddle for your keys on the darkened porch, which was quite difficult with a giggly man clinging to you. 

“Use your phone light,” Vessel says as he holds your waist and kisses your neck.

You let out a playful, exasperated sigh. “You use your phone light! My hands are full!” Finally the front door opens, and you both clamber in. Vessel’s hands find your waist again and pull you in for a frantic kiss. His hands can’t stay still as he clutches your plush ass but then trails all the way back up to grasp your hair. With a moan he pulls away.

“I think… I want to try it tonight.”

The giddiness and giggliness doesn’t stop once you fall onto your bed, making out and attempting to undress each other. Vessel kicks off his shoes and hesitantly moves away from you so he can take off his jeans. You lean back on your elbows, shaking your head softly. “So eager for me,” you chuckle.

He stands before you in his boxer briefs after he’s taken his shirt off, just taking in the sight of you. His fingers twitch by his side…and so does his cock. You like what you see and feel yourself propelled forward. Onto your knees. “Gonna take care of me, babe?” he asks with a shaky breath. He whimpers softly and bites his lip as you smirk up at him with a little smirk as your fingers lightly trace the waistband of his underwear and his happy trail. On the inside, he’s a mess. He feels the need to claim you as his. He doesn’t even really care about losing his virginity. Vessel just wants to know he’s been with you. The thought of screwing up tonight and not fucking you makes him cringe. He can’t take another night of fucking his stupid little fleshlight and sucking his own fingers pretending both holes are yours. When you ask if you can take his boxers off, he nods dumbly and bites his lip. He thinks he must have blacked out because suddenly your tongue glides from base to tip. Such a pretty smile on your face, too.

“Take your dress off. Please. Please, baby,” he pleads.You shake your head “no” with a little wink as you take his cock deeper into your mouth, nose almost touching him. “Fuck. My girl is talented,” he says as his chest starts to heave a little, “mmm please I…I want to see you.” He can barely get the words out as you let your tongue drag up the underside of his cock. As your lips pass over the head, Vessel’s panting turns into little whimpery moans. “Please.” You gaze up at him through half lidded eyes and see that he’s chewing on his lip and shaking…he wants to manhandle you. He needs to act out. “Fuck it.” Vessel takes your jaw in his hand and holds you so that you’re looking up at him.

“I am done begging. This is me telling you. Take your fucking dress off for me.”

His voice is firm. Dark. Lustful. 

“Yes sir,” is all you can manage before pulling the straps down. You stand up and let the satin-y material pool around your tummy. Vessel curses and growls under his breath as his eyes trail down your bare chest, his hands then pulling your dress further down your plush waist and hips. The feeling of his thumbs hooking the waistband of your panties makes you gasp a little. Vessel just shakes his head and chuckles as he undresses you. 

“You’ve already sucked my cock like it was nothing and yet me undressing you embarrasses you? And here…I thought you would be bossing me around tonight. You’ve folded, hm?”

“I uhm…heh.” You can’t even finish your thought as he pulls your hair back so you look straight up at him. “Got…got too excited I guess.”

“Hm,” he hums with amusement, “like a greedy puppy-girl. All bark…but you have any bite for me? Hmm?”

You stammer as he pushes you back on the bed. There’s something in how he maneuvers you that feels calculated. Practiced. “Ves…babe…? Are you sure you’ve never done this?”

He laughs as he lays atop you, his cock rubbing against your tummy. You can feel him quivering as your nude bodies touch for the first time. Vessel steadies his breath and whispers into your neck, “baby, if you had kept sucking me any longer I was going to lose it…but just because I’ve never been fucked doesn’t mean I don’t think about it.” His cock twitches between you both. “I know what I’m doing. And…dammit I know I’m going to just absolutely…” he pauses as his fingers mash against your clit “…drain myself so fast once I’m inside you. My pretty girl.” He trails wet, sucking kisses down your shoulder, breathing heavily as he poses a question. “I know you think about this. Has it made you cum?” You grit your teeth and whimper as his middle finger enters you and starts to fuck you. 

“Veeeeessssss fuck, baby…s’not nice to ask me something…while you…fuck.” He’s relishing in you trying to answer as he adds a second finger. Your hips buck against his fingers as he kisses your forehead and coos about what a sexy little thing you are. You can’t help the whines coming from you as he pulls his fingers from your needy pussy. All sense in your head flies out the window when he sucks his fingers clean and tastes you for the very first time. “What happened to my sweet, timid boyfriend?” you ask breathlessly.

Vessel plants a soft, deep kiss on your lips as he nudges the head of his cock against your entrance. You find yourself giggling breathlessly as he peppers your face with kisses before he rubs his nose against yours and whispers. “Still him. Just taking what you’ve so very kindly offered me…fuck…you gonna let me in, love?”

You nod softly and whimper as he pushes in. A pathetic, throaty moan ripples through him as he bottoms out. You’d never been someone’s first. It was a bit surprising but very endearing to see him go from feral and touch starved to blushy and pussy-drunk. Vessel wants to move. To feel your hot body against his…to hear you…to kiss you…to have any simultaneous feedback. His lust reciprocated. 

The instinct to care for him kicks in. You hold his face and whisper. “You feel so good inside me…you do baby…I want you so bad… Do you feel good?” His eyebrows knit together and he whimpers softly, wincing like he’s in pain. But he nods. “Do you want me to take care of you?” He nods again and buries his face in your neck. God his cock is throbbing hard inside you. Your hips buck sensually against him, riding from beneath. 

“Oh…fuck…you’re actually…you’re fucking me…you’re fucking me…” he whimpers pathetically. He winces and bites his lip. “Stop, baby.” 

“Are you ok?”

Vessel looks down at you with hazy, dreamy eyes and nods. “This is heaven. You are heaven.” His mouth goes to your nipple while he maneuvers one of your legs over his arm. “What did I do to deserve this…hm? Smart, beautiful girl with a perfect pussy…you shouldn’t have been single,” he whispers as he moves to kiss your lips. You both moan into the kiss, which makes his hips twitch. You feel the first tentative little thrusts and make sure to nod and “mhm” throughout the kiss to encourage him. He breaks the kiss, panting and quivering. You’re about to ask if he wants a break but he looks you dead in the eyes and gulps. “I love you, but I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. You’re driving me crazy. I’ve…I’ve wanted this for so long…and doing it with you I just…darling….” He trails off, thrusting slowly, making your eyes roll back from the stretch and feeling of his pubic bone meeting yours. You can tell he’s holding back. Holding his breath.

“Ves…Ves, babe…breathe with me. You’re ok…you feel so fucking good.”

“I can’t stand it…I have to…I need to…”

The look in his eyes betrays the sweet pout of his lips. He wants to claim you. Shape your insides to him. “Do it. I can take it.” 

He growls in your ear with a little chuckle, “you’re not one of my toys. I don’t want to hurt you…” He takes a shaky breath and cups your breast with his free hand, his other resting above your head.

“I trust you. And love you. You look sexy up there, ya know?” You say with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. He responds with another chuckle and kisses you deeply. You both get lost in each other and then he finds his rhythm again. You have no concept of how long he actually lasts. And you don’t care. When he cums he keeps fucking it into you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he cries out your name…little curses…broken moans. 

The next morning, he spoons you. Pressing his morning wood against you and whining about how you didn’t cum last night. “I know I don’t know everything yet, babes, but maybe I could just poke around…play a little? Please?” 

[halfwayhearted]

Hey , i wanted to make a request for Lamine Yamal if you could so it’s basically about Lamine’s little brother Keyne meeting his girlfriend for the first time at a family event where Lamine invited his gf and his little brother usually is very distend with new people but surprisingly really likes Lamine’s gf and he stickers with her the whole night which lamine found cute at first but quickly got annoyed since every time he try’s to kiss his gf his brother would push him away or tell him “no” and it’s mostly just fluff and Lamine’s mom and family also laughing at him for pouting and stuff i would really appreciate it thank you if you can

Dreaming Of You — Lamine Yamal.

Pairing: Lamine Yamal x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spending time with your boyfriend was always a plus, spending time with your boyfriend’s family is even better.

Word Count: 990+

Disclaimer/s — Literally just fluff!

A/N: This might’ve been the cutest shit I’ve ever written??? Also, what a shock, I struggled writing this, but at the same time, I enjoyed it a lot 👅 I HOPE YOU LIKED! THANK YOU. Much reused vocabulary, I so need to expand what the hell

Lamine utters your name quietly. “He’s a toddler.”

“I’m aware,” you huff. “I’m not nervous. I’m just… oh, I don’t know! You literally said he might swat at me if I get too close.” The boy next to you laughs, and you narrow your eyes. “So not funny.”

“It is! Come on, you’ll be fine.” But will you? Well.

He takes your hand in his and guides you into his house, which is already buzzing with energy. You say your hellos, hang out with his mom as she starts making dinner. Helping her and chatting with Lamine, everything is going just beautifully.

“Keyne,” you hear Lamine, holding out his arms and crouching down to the toddler’s eye-level.

Okay, deep breaths. Your expression softens the second you see him, waddling over to his big brother and leaning into him as soon as he’s close enough. He’s genuinely the cutest little kid ever.

Once he’s up in Lamine’s arms, he twists his body and looks over at you. Taking that as your cue to step closer, a smile graces your lips. “Hi,” you coo.

Hi. Hi? Was that stupid? Whatever.

He looks at you for a second, then Keyne holds out his arms. Your eyes widen and you glance over at Lamine with a growing grin. “Uh. May I?”

With a smirk, he nods, gently handing his brother to you, and you carefully grab onto him. “Oh, he’s so cute,” you whisper, watching how his fingers grab at your hair. They don’t pull; they just linger.

You didn’t know what to… expect, but when you heard Lamine talk about him, it was always that he was picky. Who he would want to hold him, play with him, or sit by him—it was all up to him.

So this? This practically blew your mind.

His mom looks over her shoulder, noticing. “He likes you.” Your boyfriend nods in agreement.

“I’m pretty fond of him, too,” you reply, nudging his stomach with your pointer finger, and he giggles. Your smile grows—if that’s even possible, considering you’re smiling as much as you can. Your cheeks hurt, but you really don’t care.

After a while, he wants to be put down, and you oblige, letting him wander around. It lasts about ten minutes while you’re laughing with Lamine on the couch when you feel a tug on your pants.

“Is this going to be a problem?” He questions.

Your eyes light up and you lift him onto your lap. “Huh, I don’t know, Lamine, is it going to be?”

“This is my girlfriend,” the boy ignores you by saying, poking his brother’s cheek. “Go away.”

You roll your eyes, turning Keyne away from him. “Like he understands what you’re saying, idiot.”

Before he can argue further, he hears his name being called and sighs. He places a kiss on your temple, gets up, and walks away. You glance down, noticing the toddler looking at you with confusion in his gaze. It only makes you chuckle.

He loves to dance; you already knew that. Of course, you did. You just didn’t think that all it took was for you to hold his hands for him to start swaying side-to-side. So once you saw Lamine was gone, you placed him in his spot and watched as he stood on his feet, doing exactly that when you took his hands and moved him.

Have you mentioned this was the cutest kid ever?

Because this was the cutest kid ever.

The night goes by smoothly, more so than you would’ve thought. Everyone eats dinner, finishes, and continues talking and laughing; it’s truly a nice evening, just like every gathering of Lamine’s family. It was a big pleasure to be a part of this.

Now, you and Lamine are by the window, he’s leaning in to place a sweet kiss on your cheek, but he’s lightly pushed away, causing your eyes to widen. It wasn’t harsh at all, and a laugh spills out of you at the sight of Keyne standing there.

“No,” you both hear him declare.

This is the sixth time you’ve held him, not that you’re complaining or anything. You’re not so sure that the boy next to you feels the same way.

“No? What do you mean, no?” He huffs, furrowing his brows and glancing at his brother. He decides to test the waters again and leans in. Okay, right.

Keyne lifts a hand, frowning.

Your jaw drops. “Oh, wow. That’s actually crazy.”

“…Mom!” Lamine calls out, and she peeks her head around the corner, quirking a curious brow. “Can you take him? Keyne’s hogging her.”

“Oh, Lamine, please,” you voice through laughs.

“Not much I can do about that!” She retorts, offering you a wink. He’s on his own. “Play nice.”

“Keyne, go play games.”

The toddler is quiet, ignoring him. That’s when your boyfriend exhales loudly, leaning in and resting his forehead on your shoulder. “He’s trying to take you away from me,” Lamine grumbles.

With both your hands supporting Keyne, all you can do is rest your head against his. “That’s not true. Look at him! You can’t even be mad. See?”

“I can,” he quips back. “And I am.”

Just then, a pinch on his neck makes him pull back quickly. “Okay, I’ve had it. Come on,” he proclaims, watching how Keyne pulls his hand back and tries to squirm the second he feels his brother try to pry him away from you. “Let go.”

He’s met with a blank stare.

Lamine clenches his jaw. “It’s time for bed,” he says, with one last gentle pull. He has his brother in his arms, and he’s shooting you one last look.

You give a wave and a warm smile, watching until they fade from view. The smile remains on your face, a reminder that you truly had nothing to worry about. In fact, you’ve a new favorite person.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedriache + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @ferrarifudds + @levidazai + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ (idk how i feel about this lowkey but wtv.)

[cobragardens]

Notes on the Scene in Job's Basement

Crowley is not tempting Aziraphale here. He's experimenting on him.

Getting Aziraphale to sin, or even getting him drunk, is not Crowley's intent in this scene. Eating food, taking pleasure in food, drinking alcohol, and even being drunk are not sins in most of Judaism or Christianity (and they're certainly not sins in British Christianity, regardless of any church's doctrine). When Aziraphale turns down alcohol, Crowley just suggests he try food instead; so it's not important to Crowley what Aziraphale tries, but it is important to him that he try something.

This scene is also the first time (chronologically) we see that Crowley likes to drink and likes to be drunk.

We know from

and from

as well as from Book Omens and Word of God that angels have no instinct beyond curiosity pulling them toward eating or toward gender. From this we can reasonably presume they have no instinct toward Beverages either.

That means that in this moment--

--Crowley is very likely the only metaphysical entity he knows on either side of the divide, or even knows of, who has ever experienced a physical pleasure.

And he probably has some Lingering Questions about it, like we all did the first time a physical pleasure blew our minds. Like,

Is it this strong for everyone?

Is there something wrong with me?

Am I going to hurt myself if I do this, like, a lot?

And it's not like the poor creature can ask anyone, because the answers for humans aren't necessarily going to apply to him.

So when he sees an opportunity, Crowley gets that one angel he knows who'll talk to him to try a human thing, and then he watches to see if physical pleasure hits the angel as hard as it hit him.

And that's why he looks so creepily pleased when it does.

Apparently it is this strong for everyone and there isn't anything wrong with him. Now he can relax and get sloshed without worrying, and he even has someone to talk to about how rad human stuff is.

A Dip Into Speculation

We know because we're shown this isn't the first time Crowley has gotten drunk that, watching Aziraphale, Crowley understands what he's seeing. I think it's really interesting that Crowley doesn't laugh at Aziraphale at any point during this scene, and he doesn't correct the way he's eating, either.

Maybe it's because this is what it was like for Crowley the first time. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and woke up in a puddle of his own sick. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and didn't wake up at all, and there was Paperwork and he had to get used to a whole new corporation just when he'd got the hang of having legs in the old one. Maybe somebody had to show him how to use a fork or whatever they had going on for eating utensils in Ancient Mesopotamia. I distinctly remember having to learn as a small child to chew with my mouth closed. There is every possibility Crowley doesn't consider the way Aziraphale is eating to be worthy of ridicule because whatever Crowley did the first time was worse.

Maybe he wants to leave Aziraphale set up for later embarrassment over his table manners. Aziraphale was a judgy bitch about the wine.

Or maybe it's something like Let him have this one. There can be rules to it later; let him just enjoy it, once, like a little kid with both fists in their birthday cake.

Maybe it's desire. There is some textual evidence for this. Once Aziraphale learns to eat properly, the way he does it is very attractive, and we know Crowley loves watching him do it.

I don't think it's overreaching even to interpret David Tennant's physical performance of Crowley watching Aziraphale eat as one of sensual or erotic pleasure. I mean--

I'm not saying it absolutely has to be erotic, but it's not a reach, or even a full extension of the elbow, to read it that way.

There's another meta somewhere [I'll link it when I find it again; if you know this meta, please drop it in comments!] that discusses how this exchange in Job's basement is filmed like an erotic scene.

Like Crowley, we all want to kiss this face.

Aziraphale isn't eating prettily, but he's eating lewdly, ravenously, desirously, and it's lit like romantic sex, not like gluttony. Whether that's funny or poignant or hot may depend on the viewer. Here's how Crowley's handling it:

Srs tho, any frame of this scene could have been painted by Artemisia Gentileschi.

Or maybe--and this is my favorite of the available interpretations--maybe this is what it was like for Crowley the first time and he doesn't interfere because he wants Aziraphale to come out of this as someone who's had the same experience Crowley's had so Crowley won't be so totally alone in having had it.

[puck-luck]

horror movies & puppy dog eyes | nico hischier

warnings: use of y/n, oral (m receiving), use of pet names, telling your crush/roommate you like them (very scary, but it goes well here!), begging (ish? Nico is giving sub in this), spelling of cum as come because i think "cum" looks ugly pairing: nico hischier x reader summary: the one when you and nico get a little too close on the couch, the tension between you finally breaks and you tell (& show) each other how you feel. wc: 2511

You’d known Nico for years, having met him while out for a jog back in the preseason of his rookie year for the Devils. It was one of those serendipitous moments when you were in a rare fitness mood and you happened to bump into a cute boy in one of the parks about a mile away from your apartment. You’d stopped running by then and slowed your pace to enjoy the scenery from a bench to catch your breath. Nico, being the precious angel he is, had stumbled and almost fallen right in front of you. You laughed, he blushed, you introduced yourself, and he gave you his number by the end of the conversation. 

You two hadn’t become friends right away, considering how busy he was with his rookie year. They made the playoffs that year, but lost early on. It was the postseason after Nico’s rookie year when you two got close, hanging out when he was in Jersey and texting and calling each other when he wasn’t. When you told him you were looking for a new place to live because you were tired of your old roommate, he offered you his spare bedroom. It was in that apartment that you started watching the Devils because of Nico and it became a habit. You liked that you could talk to him about his game and he would explain things to you that you didn’t understand. 

When he was named captain in 2021, things started to change between you two. It was the first time that the line started to blur between friendship and romance. You had popped a bottle of champagne as he walked through the door, you’d hung streamers from the ceiling, and you’d blown up a few balloons that were littered along the entryway. Nico was tired and you could tell, but when he saw you cheering for him with an overflowing bottle of champagne, he’d never felt so alive. The thing is, even as big of a rush as it was, you and Nico ended up cuddling on the couch into the early morning. He had a game in Washington the next day, which they lost, probably in part because of how late you had kept him up. You both knew better, but with Nico’s head on your chest and your fingers in his hair, it was too comfortable to move. You two fell asleep right there and woke up entangled. Even now, years later, that night leaves butterflies in your stomach.

You had never acted on your feelings for Nico and he had never made any move on you. After living together for almost five years, you two had fallen into an easy routine and romance would only mess that up.

Sometimes, though, like today, it was really hard to keep yourself off of Nico.

His eyes were just so brown today, his hair was falling in his eyes just right, his dimples were showing when he smiled (with his pearly whites!) at you, his accent was peeking out more than you were used to, and you only noticed all of this once you had stumbled into the kitchen for coffee and he had returned from his early workout. He was all sweaty and muscular and you were staring, of course you were. Look at him. You couldn’t help it. 

You weren’t the only one, to be fair. When you had stumbled into the kitchen rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you were wearing one of Nico’s old shirts and your underwear. He was used to it, but the shirt had his number on the shoulder, and something squeezed at his heart when he saw you walking around with his number on, like you were really his. The sleepy smile you gave him after he sat you down at the counter and poured coffee for you was like a gift, too.

“What are you up to today?” Nico asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee as well. He blew on the hot surface of the liquid before taking a sip and burned his tongue anyway, but shook it off.

You hummed, shrugging noncommittally. “I’m working from home today, then we can hang out. Watch a movie?”

“Movie would be nice,” Nico replies. “Anything you’d like to see?”

“You pick,” you tell him. “I’m going to go hole up in my room for a bit. I’ll see you over work, okay? Take a break around noon for lunch. Will you be here?”

“I’m going to the rink in an hour or so. I’m meeting with some of the guys to run some extra drills and watch film. I’ll have whatever they have in catering.”

“Okay.” You hop down from your seat at the counter, walk around to grab a granola bar from the cabinet behind Nico. He places a hand on your other arm as you reach around him out of instinct, not intent, but he purposefully lets it linger a second longer than necessary. You press your lips together to keep any noise you might make inside of you and pull away. 

“Later?” Nico asks again, voice soft. His eyes are imploring and, if you’re not mistaken, a little heated.

The spot where his hand had rested almost burns with the lack of touch. “Later,” you agree, and because he’s not the only one that can make someone feel like they’re burning up, you lean up and brush your lips over his cheek.

It leaves a small smile on his face and you don’t look back as you walk away.

After work, Nico cooks dinner for the two of you and you settle on the couch, rubbing your eyes out of exhaustion. You’d been staring at your computer screen all day, ironing out details of the latest project your boss had assigned you. It was tiresome and your eyes felt like they had been way overworked. It’s only a matter of time after this movie starts that you fall asleep.

Nico presents you with your plate and set his own on the coffee table, heading back to the kitchen to fetch your drinks. You weren’t overindulging, but Nico had picked out a red wine that paired nicely with the meal he had prepared, and you were always down for a drink and a movie. 

Unfortunately, it was like Nico had something out for you, because he decided he wanted to watch a horror movie tonight. You were bundled up on the couch, eating your food, when he turned on a movie he knew you wouldn’t like, but you had told him he could choose… so you were stuck with it. 

It was more of a psychological horror than one that relied on cheap scares and you really tried not to pay attention because you knew the movie would freak you out if you let it. Instead, you decide to focus on Nico.

He's barely reacting to the horror movie, just watching it with a straight face that occasionally turns inquisitive. His hand rests on the back of the couch behind you, so close to being around you. You're just so aware of him at all times. His presence is so commanding. You bite the inside of your cheek as you sneak a glance at him, focusing on the skin of his thigh that is revealed by his gym shorts. 

He catches you staring once you didn’t jump at one of the very few scares in the movie. 

“What are you looking at?” Nico asks, bringing his arm down to wipe at his thigh, assuming he had dropped some crumbs on it or something and not noticed.

You shake yourself out of it. “Zoned out, I guess.”

Nico cuts his eyes at you, but lets it go.

After a few more minutes, you find your eyes drifting back to Nico’s lower half. He shifts down on the couch and rests one of his heels on the coffee table, the other still on the floor. His legs were spread deliciously wide in typical man behavior and normally you’d roll your eyes, but something about it today made your stomach turn. Your eyes grow wider when Nico reaches around and puts his arm around your shoulders instead of the back of the couch. 

“You okay?” He asks, pulling you closer to his side and giving you a little squeeze.

“Distracted,” you reply. You rub at your eyes for emphasis. “Tired.”

“Poor girl.” Nico rubs your arm and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Just give me a hug,” you say softly, cozying up to him. You wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head right on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, strong and solid. You close your eyes and focus on that, the beat of it tiring you and lulling you into that weird in-between state of not-quite consciousness and not-quite sleep. Nico’s arm is solid around you and he smells good, manly.

You sigh, throwing a leg over his thigh. He places his other hand on the curve of your knee and pulls your leg higher. 

“Y/N,” Nico murmurs quietly. 

“Nico,” you reply in the same tone, opening your eyes and looking up at him.

He looks tormented.

You push back from him, but he keeps a harsh grip on your thigh to keep you from getting any distance from him. “What?” You demand, hands on his chest. The concern on your face leaks into your voice. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he whispers.

“What? What’s wrong?” You squirm away from him. “Did I do something?”

This time, Nico stays silent for just a moment too long. You look over him, trying to get some clue as to why you’ve upset him. His hands are resting on his lap and you’ve seen this move before, so your eyes linger before you look up at him.

His cheeks and the tips of his ears are burning red. “I’m sorry.” The words rush out of him in one fell swoop. “I know we’re just friends, I just didn’t mean…”

“Nico,” you interrupt, but can’t find any other words. You stare at each other, nothing but the stillness of your breath between you.

“Please.” He deflates as the word leaves him. 

“Nico,” you repeat. You shift closer to him and move his hands from his lap, getting an eyeful of his bulge. When your eyes return to his face, he’s blushing even more than before, but his expression is less grave. It’s more hopeful.

“Is this…?” He asks, reaching out to touch you, but pulling back at the last second.

“Yes,” you answer, settling yourself in his lap and leaning in until your lips just barely brush against his. “If you want it.”

His breath catches. “Need it,” he admits, voice breaking. “Needed you since– God, forever.”

“Me too.”

His eyes search your face, brown and bright and pure, and he leans forward that last millimeter until you’re kissing. His lips slide over yours softly, like he’s mapping out every curve and memorizing it in case he never gets the chance to kiss you again.

You pull away and kiss over his features– a kiss to his nose, to his temples, to his forehead, to his cheeks, his eyebrows, the corners of his lips. When you sink lower to his jaw, feeling the stubble against your skin, it’s like the dam breaks.

“Thought about this so much, all the time,” Nico admits, breathless as you continue to kiss him and grind down slowly on his lap. His hands find your ass and he clutches at you. “Dreamt of it.”

“What did you dream about?” You mumble against his Adam’s apple, running your hands along the ridges of his abs. “Tell me, Neeks.”

“Fucked my hand so many times thinking about your mouth, Y/N,” he says. “Worried you’d hear me saying your name from across the hall.”

“I wish I had,” you slide off the couch until you’re between his thighs. You rub over the downy hair on his thighs, the same hair that caught your attention tonight in the first place. “I would’ve come over and shown you that the real thing was better than your imagination.”

He lets out a loud moan at that, reaching down to brush your hair out of your face. He looks down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His puppy-dog eyes never leave you, as if he’s worried you’ll disappear if he blinks for a second. He lifts his hips and you shimmy his shorts and boxers down at the same time to reveal his cock. 

Your hand circles the base of his length and you take the tip in your mouth, sucking lightly until his hips buck up with pleasure. You pull off and kiss his slit, licking the precum up when it bubbles out. His cock jumps when you trace the vein on the underside with the tip of your tongue and cup his balls. 

You blink up at him and bite your bottom lip coyly. “Tastes good, Neek.”

“Baby,” he whimpers. He lifts his hips. “Don’t tease.”

“Sorry, love,” you apologize. “Let me make you feel good.”

You lower your mouth onto his cock again, bobbing your head and working the bit that you can’t fit into his mouth. He tries to keep himself still, but he can only do so much until he’s bucking up into your mouth and chasing his orgasm like a man starved. You let him thrust up, loving the sounds he’s making. 

He moans and whines the way you imagined he would, still in the habit of trying to keep quiet so that he doesn’t alarm his roommate. You’ll tell him after that it’s okay, especially now that you know how he feels and he knows how you feel. You’ll talk about it more after, you know you will, but right now, you just want to make him come.

You pull off and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him at a fast pace. “Gonna come, Nico?”

“Uh huh,” he groans, his hips stuttering as it becomes too much for him. “Y/N, I–” He cuts himself off with a strangled moan as he shoots off, his seed spilling over your hand and onto his stomach. 

You let him breathe for a minute, catch his breath. When he opens his eyes, he catches you licking the come off your hand. His cock gives a halfhearted twitch, but he can’t go again quite yet. Plus, his mind is turning with all the ways he imagined getting you off. He had dreamt of so many things he could do to you, but his favorite fantasy involved repaying the favor: getting his mouth on you.

Nico pulls you up from where you sit and lays you down on the couch, spreading your legs. “I love you,” he whispers and presses a kiss to your thigh. “Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you, Nico.”

notes: here we go again, readers. in my own personal headcanon, nico is just a sweetie pie who needs some lovin from his girl (my man, my man, thank you to my man). once again, blessings to @johncena2020 for reading the fic before it was posted on her lunch break & helping me with a title. ONCE AGAIN, thank you to wheelofnames.com for picking which boy i wrote about today. originally, you chose trevor (i can't blame you), but two trevs in one day is wild for a new blog. waiting for the day the spinner wheel chooses quinn and i indulge in writing some of my favorite things (to be revealed). also, where are all the new fics? what am i supposed to read during my 9-5? the stuff i've already read? blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. loving you guys. xo! <3

[anachronismstellar]

What about Wei Qingwei? 👀

hehehHEHEHE WHO IS READY FOR SWORD PUNS-

-----

"Thrity percent."

"Ten percent."

"Twenty five percent."

"Five, and if you keep pushing, I will give you nothing at all." Shang Qinghua slammed his book closed, the threat like a sharp knife being held over Wei Qingwei's dreams of a new forge.

"The Immortal Allience Conference is coming soon, I need a new forge to make new weapons," Wei Qingwei said as if his argument couldn't be refuted. Better start sooner than later, right? Even stubborn Shang Qinghua couldn't find fault in a point like that!

"Wei-shixiong," The An Ding Peak Lord rubbed his hands all over his face, smearing ink on his cheek as he gave the biggest sigh Wei Qingwei ever seen someone give. "I understand your frustration and your anxiety to start things now, believe me, I know," Shang Qinghua gestured at his entire desk, a chaos of papers and parchments, some of them covered in numbers so tiny it hurt Wei Qingwei's eyes to look at them for too long. "But as you can see, everyone wants a head start, and as we have discussed, many times I may add, the Immortal Allience Conference budget will be given next year. And is no one's fault-" Then he paused, mumbling something suspiciously like "but your own", only to continue with a smile. "That your disciples blew up a forge. Again."

Wei Qingwei crossed his arms, tapping his fingers. It annoyed him to no end that his lie had been caught before he could use it, but something nagged on his mind that the money wasn't actually the problem here.

He had heard... Stories. You see, blacksmithing could be really boring. When you're waiting for a new ore shipment, or when one had nothing to do besides polishing metal (hehe) again and again, what one could do besides gossiping? And the last big whisper among his older disciples had been too good for him to ignore.

Long night meetings with Zhangmen-Shixiong, visits at odd hours to a certain bamboo house, doctor's appointments in the middle of the night while being perfectly healthy... One had to be stupid to not connect the dots.

The quiet as a mouse, shadow of twelve peaks, Lord Shang Qinghua fucked. And he must be pretty good at it if the types like Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu came back for more.

Another thing that wasn't hard to see was how stressed the man looked. To be honest, Wei Qingwei doesn't remember any time Shang-shidi was not stressed. Maybe it was because they met only during meetings. Or when he went to ask for money. Hm.

What Qi Qingqi said? Something something vinegar and bees and honey? Maybe he should try another strategy.

"This one would like to apologize to his Shidi for the insistence. But maybe I could bid on a final offer?" And Wei Qingwei didn't curl his finger on his hair because he wasn't that shameless, but he wasn't ashamed to pull his sleeves up to show off some muscle, leaning forward to let his outer robes slide just enough to show his clavicle.

Shang Qinghua stared.

"Very well, a final offer," he agreed and then proceeded to pretend to organize his desk, taking a glance or two at Wei Qingwei's neck.

"Shidi goes back to his first ten percent advance deal," Now Wei Qingwei knew he was laying on too thick by Shang Qinghua's snort. Still, he didn't back off, winking as he said: "and I can craft something special for you."

"Hmm..." Shang Qinghua moved more papers around, pulled his collar as he took another peek at Wei Qingwei's chest. "I do have some projects in mind that would require Wei-shixiong's expertise..." He hesitated for another moment, slowly laying back until his back hit the panel behind him, one of his hands going to his sword, playing with the tassel like a cat about to catch a mouse. "Also, it's been a while since I've polished my sword. Would Wei-shixiong consider putting that in his offer as well?"

The next day...

"I swear to Heavens, your hair is possessed by something. What did you do to make it so knotted?" Qi Qingqi was being delicate, mind you, she would never be less than gentle, but she also couldn't resist pulling the curls a little bit stronger than she would. Served Wei Qingwei right for making her spend an entire morning taking care of his curly creature.

Also, Wei Qingwei's dreamy sighs were starting to annoy her. He was acting worse than her teenage girls!

"I went to talk to Shang-shidi yesterday," he said as if he wasn't almost vibrating to share how did it go.

"And?" she rolled her eyes, pulling her comb just enough to make him hiss. "By the look on your face he agreed on giving you more money."

He started laying back on her, but before he could ruin all her hard work on the lower part of his hair, she hit him with the comb. And it was a testimony of how smug he was that his only reaction was to laugh, eyes creasing into two half moons, smiling like a sly fox.

"He gave me something alright."

She stopped mid movement blinking once then twice, mouth opening in a surprised gasp.

"You didn't."

"Oh I did."

"I can't believe you did it."

"I can't believe how huge is his-"

"Stop!" She hit him again with the comb, and then a second time. She didn't need that image in her head the next meeting, thank you very much!! "Shut up! I don't wanna hear it!"

"Ow, ow, alright I'm sorry!" He apologized but kept laughing, no, not laughing, giggling like he were about to kick his feet and start making plans for a wedding.

She loved him, but. Ew.

"How is he that good?" She wondered out loud when they finally calmed down and went back to controlling Wei Qingwei's hair. "He looks like he's about to faint half of the time, and the other half, he's crying about us being mean to him."

"I have no idea, but he's growing quite the reputation. But it does make sense after you think about it. And!" This time she couldn't hold him in place, Wei Qingwei turning around so she could see him wiggling his eyebrows. "Explains a lot why a lot of lords were blushing last meeting. You know the voice he does? The bossy one?"

She dropped everything to cover her ears, closing her eyes as well so she couldn't even read his lips. "I don't wanna hear it!!"

That send Wei Qingwei into another fit of giggles, throwing his head back while covering his face with both hands.

Qi Qingqi didn't understand, honestly she didn't want to understand. But her best friend was having fun, so if she sent a blessing on Shang Qinghua's way, that was between her and the Heavens.

------

Aaaaaand Wei Qingwei had his turn! :D I wanted to make it more naughty but I'm at work and djahskfjskdks Everyone here knows English so- LETS JUST SAY I WORKED ON MY POKERFACE TODAY

Bonus points for Qi Qingqi!! :D

There you go anon <3 I hope you enjoyed!! Also, the demon curly hair Wei Qingwei hc is from @artsarasp comic here!!!

[alliseaisfandom]

Ghost Headcanons Papa edition

Bc they won't leave my head and so I might as well

Nobody knows this (he made sure of it) but Primo's general presence and air of menace™ were s t u d i e d. Man put in the work daily to be as unsettling as he could. There are notebooks and a concerning amount of VHS tapes that never really made it back to the stores they were rented out from. He was particularly fond of the original Nosferatu film.

Despite his carefully curated aura of Creepy, kids love Primo. Like, proper love him, especially toddlers. He discovered this by accident during a ritual. Or rather after one. A child was screaming their lungs out and nobody was calming them down or shushing them so Primo followed the sound to find a 3-year old had wandered into the backstage area. As soon as the kid saw him they stopped. Eyes big and an expression Primo would soon find out meant "oh cool a new thing. Must grab". He held the child and brought them to the stage being cleaned out, getting a ghoul to quickly get the mic working and some sort of lighting on them. The panicked mother and Primo had some trouble getting her spawn off of him , and he did in fact get nail marks on his arms. Since then he's been a very effective tantrum deterrent, and general toddler entertainment. He's very confused about it but also secretly thinks it's cute.

Secondo does know who pitbull is. Primo and Terzo both called him Mr. Worldwide enough that he had to go find out. He won't tell a soul but he takes it as a compliment. I mean the man's whole music reportoire revolves around drinking, partying, and sleeping with beautiful people. He can respect a man with values.

The night of the first switch, after Primo shook his brother's hand on stage and bowed out of the stage, he sat still and quietly for the rest of the show. The morning after, he realised he could do *anything he wanted*. Sister Imperator sold out several pharmacies of whatever they had for headaches for the next few weeks.

Secondo performed his last concert knowingly. No official communication was given to him but Primo pulled him aside the morning of and told him he was going to be replaced. The two brothers are the only ones who harbour no hard feelings about The Switch, but Secondo assumed it was a bad joke anyways , because there was no way Primo was talking about their green, immature, unfitting half brother.

Primo raised a single eyebrow and asked "do I make a habit of joking?"

He did not. Secondo nodded and took the knowledge with him on stage that night. He won't say it even under threat of torture but he will always be grateful to his brother for letting him have his goodbye.

he also mocks the eyebrow-habit-of-lying thing at least weekly.

Secondo was more moderate with his newfound freedom. No pharmacy stocks were harmed in the making of his retirement. He discovered a love of fine wine, history of vineyards, and long platinum blonde wigs.

He looks objectively hot in them.

Secondo and Terzo met as teens. They'd both grown up in the Clergy, and Nihil had the brilliant idea to both announce himself as their parent and make them understand what that meant by choosing them to attend and assist with one of Primo's first rituals and telling them midway through. Those attending the ritual to this day believe one of the venue's fuses blew and that's why the whole stage went dark, or perhaps it was a sign of Satan himself. Nobody has quite considered the two fifteen year olds unloading their rage on random pieces of the electrical equipment.

Terzo, like his older brother ( Primo, that is, as he refuses to call Secondo older, 3 months do. Not. Count.) studied up to become Papa. Imperator hyped his arrival enough that he started getting anxious, and he began studying his brother's rituals. While he would slit his own throat before asking *Secondo* for advice, he did adopt some of his maneirisms for the more,,, traditional performances. Secondo mentioned noticing it once. For his next rehearsal, Terzo brought a Kazoo.

Terzo loved to tease Copia during his time as Papa. He liked the guy, can you blame him? He'd barge into whatever dingy office Copia had been put into for the day, arms wide, booming voice calling "My Darling Cardinale!" before inevitably being enough of a nuisance that Copia had to stop working.

He was generally very touchy with everyone. His older brothers often chastised him for being a stereotype. Never stopped Terzo from grabbing people's faces and planting two kisses on their cheeks like an old nonna seeing her grandkids during holidays.

Terzo often had conflicting feelings after rituals, feeling both incredibly powerful and drained. He never felt comfortable bringing it up with his brothers lest they go back to thinking he wasn't ready for or worthy of the job. He let it slip once while talking to his ghouls after a particularly exhausting ritual, and they immediately agreed. Terzo was then unanimously added to their idea of a "cure"

Said cure was a giant cuddle pile on their trailer. Terzo had never been happier.

On the night of Terzo's last show, 6 people knew what would happen. Sister Imperator, who'd had it done. Cardinal Copia, who was "afforded the courtesy of knowing what his promotion entailed" and was so nauseous he didn't eat all day. Two brothers of sin assisting as crew to the ritual, responsible for the "removal", one to keep the ghouls on stage from following their papa (as they attempted to do) and a final man, tasked with evaluating the risk of Terzo breaking free, and "dealing with it".

it was a "slight overreaction" (Imperator's words). The man was retired from the Clergy, although very few people believe it to have been voluntary, and Terzo was "fixed".

not before they took advantage of the result. The photo printed on magazine covers through the world was taken that night. Copia did in fact throw up after, and took up the habit of wearing gloves.

He also couldn't look Terzo in the eye the weeks after. Terzo never understood why.

Copia's first album was written on little sleep and even less confidence. He had spent his whole life yearning for the place he now sat in, and one wrong move could cost him everything. Taking the emeritus brothers out of the picture had been a necessary evil, Sister Imperator had told him. But it had also taken any guidance from him.

So. In what Copia would never know was a family tradition. He studied. He watched and rewatched old rituals, looked up what was popular, what worked best, what the people loved. And became an accidental tribute to the Emeritus bloodline.

Okay this got sad fast,,, I'll come back when I stop being depressing

[starsfic]

Seduced

Summary: Sun Wukong decides to seduce Ironbull in order to make Xiaotian's training easier and because he misses the Demon Bull Family. I planned for this to be smut. It's not.

-_-

“Wait, you’re coming?”

“Kid, are you kidding? I’m excited to watch you, your dragon friend, and Red Son race!” Wukong yanked out another shirt and considered it. Hmm…maybe too much skin. He didn’t want to appear desperate. He stuck the outfit back into his closet and went rummaging again.

“Wait, Red Son’s coming?!” His successor’s excitement at the fact that he even had his phone number faded. “That’s bad news!”

Hm. He expected his first question to be how he even knew.

“What makes you say that, bud?”

“Well, what if he wins and gets the immortal peach? DBK’s armor is powered by powerful artifacts!”

“I really doubt that there’s much power in a simple metal trophy, bud,” Wukong said, pulling out a pair of jeans he hadn’t worn in a while. If he tied his hair back…oh, that would be so cute! “I wouldn’t be too concerned.”

There was a long pause, long enough that Wukong got dressed before his successor spoke.

“...metal trophy?”

Wait. Wait…

They should probably do a class on research next training session.

Well, hopefully, knowing him, Red Son wasn’t too disappointed by the lack of an actual immortal peach. Hopefully, Wukong mused as he did one last lookover and tugged his sweater down a bit strategically, neither would DBK and Iron Fan. It would make trying to talk to them and “talking” very difficult.

“I’ll see you at the race, bud.” Wukong hung up before his successor could finish processing what he had signed up for.

With his look down, he walked out of his bedroom. A few of his monkeys waited in the living room, perking up when he walked in. “So?” He spread his arms out, letting the group get a good look. “How do I look? Hot? Sexy?”

One of the monkeys hopped off the couch and out the window. While they waited, one of the monkeys chattered a question. “Why am I dressed up like this? Whelp!” Wukong clapped his hands together. “I’m gonna seduce DBK and Iron Fan!”

Well. Kinda. It was the back-up plan.

Look, he had missed the Demon Bull family. They had become his closest thing to a support system after the pilgrims had died. It was probably too early to try something like this, but he missed spoiling his nephew, and he missed the pleasure the couple had brought into the bedroom.

There was also the fact that he had a young successor with power he didn't fully understand and was worried that his successor might hurt himself with it.

The monkey hopped back in, pulling a pink rose blossom with them. Wukong took the offering with a smile before tucking it behind his ear.

“Hopefully, I can talk them out of conquering the world.” 

-_-

“How pathetic…”

“You’re not pathetic, my love,” his wife lovingly said, her deft fingers stroking across his skin. He missed his fur, missed the feeling of her running her fingers through it. He even missed other fingers, gently working out knots and dirt. Right now, all he could do was savor the feeling of her. “You’re just a little dumb-”

“NIU MOWANG!”

The yell made every nerve stand on end. Iron Fan yelped, whirling around, and DBK could see the anger crystalize in her eyes as a familiar cloud lowered down. A figure hopped off- a pretty young woman wearing an oversized pink sweater and comfortable white jeans- but he was no idiot. He saw the color of her ponytail, a white bow merrily bouncing, and the tail poking out.

“Sun Wukong,” he growled out, getting to his feet.

Iron Fan hefted up her fan. “How dare you show your face!”

A hurricane wind blew through the valley as his wife launched herself at the simian.

The only warning was a sigh before Wukong kicked up.

Iron Fan gasped as her fan went flying, wind whistling around the blade, before slamming into the mountain face, left upright in the dirt. She lowered back down, and DBK leaned forward, giving her a nuzzle of apology, before Wukong was right there, shedding his disguise. Irritatingly, that pink rose blossom behind his ear looked perfect. His eyes were unglamoured, revealing their true red color, and filled with a rage that… he didn’t recognize.

“What. The. Fuck.” Wukong punctuated each word with a poke to Iron Fan’s chest. “Were. You. Two. Doing?!”

“What are you doing?” Iron Fan snapped back, taking a step back to press her back against his shoulder. Wukong, however, followed. “Why are you here-”

“I came to watch the race!” Wukong snapped, his ponytail poofing up. “I wanted to cheer Xiaotian and Red Son and Xiaojiao on, and I wanted to talk to you two, so I figured you two would be there to cheer your son on.”

There was an accusation there, and DBK knew he was falling for whatever Wukong was pulling, but he had to respond. “We were there!” It wasn’t to cheer him on, but-

“Yeah. TO HUMILIATE HIM?!”

“We just needed to teach him a lesson,” Iron Fan insisted, a bead of sweat running down her brow. She was getting nervous, a sign of wisdom when it came to an enraged Sun Wukong. “He just needed a bit of crushing to understand that his ambitions aren’t feasible, that’s all.”

Wukong gaped. After a long moment, he pressed his hands together, pressing them to his lips, and slowly breathing out. He breathed in again, held it, let it out.

DBK glanced at his wife. She glanced back, nodding to the monkey like he had any clue what was going on inside his head. Why she expected him to know, he had no idea. Nobody had any idea what was going on in his head, excluding his monkeys and occasionally Macaque, and it wasn’t like they were willing to share.

“You’ve lost your son privileges.”

“...Excuse me?” his wife said.

“This? All… THIS?” Wukong gestured to them. “This is not what good and rational parents do. This is a cry for help. So,” He backflipped and landed on his nimbus cloud, glaring them down. “Until you two clean up your fucking act, Red Son will be staying with me.” 

DBK felt his jaw drop. While Wukong had occasionally stepped in to help, especially when his son was younger, he had always left the parenting to him and Iron Fan. Even if they were lovers, he had never defied the boundaries unless they willed it. This was fully destroying the boundary.

“You’re bluffing,” Iron Fan scoffed, levitating up and coming to rest on his shoulder. “My son would never allow it.” He could feel her shiver- even if he wouldn’t allow it, Wukong was strong enough to not give him a choice

Wukong didn’t respond in words. Instead, he simply raised a brow and pulled out a chair. He blew on it and a clone popped up, ready and waiting for attention. “Go to the foundry and Jade Cloud Mountain,” he said and the clone nodded, poofing up a notepad and pen. “Red Son will need a toolkit, about twenty pencils and pens each, a pencil sharpener, enough clothes for at least six months-”

Oh gods he wasn’t bluffing.

-_-

“Fine. Fine!”

Wukong paused at the listing. The rage wasn’t quelled, not yet, but he was just a bit confused at his former sworn brother’s snap.

“Husband?” Iron Fan said.

“If we apologize to him, will you calm down?”

Wukong raised a brow. “Is that seriously how you’re putting it?”

DBK stiffened, his eyes darting back and forth between him and the clone. “...no.” he said finally. He turned, and Iron Fan grabbed his horn to steady herself before he began to march off. Wukong felt his brow stay as he followed behind on his nimbus, ready to swoop in if DBK did anything ridiculous.

Soon, the starting point appeared. It looked like a combination of Xiaotian and Long Xiaojiao had won, based on the large picture of them screaming being projected. A crowd had gathered around the winning podium, except for a wide gap, where Red Son was yelling at the two. Xiaojiao looked faintly amused while Xiaotian cradled the trophy to his chest.

“-and I totally- Father!”

Iron Fan pulled away as DBK stood there, seeming to study his son as the redhead started to sputter what sounded like excuses and apologies for not winning. Then, he knelt, pressing his forehead to the tarmac.

“Father?!” Red sputtered, his hair sparking, as the crowd gasped. “What are you-”

“I am sorry for attempting to undercut your ambitions. I have not been providing you with the same grace that you have been providing me- when I…” DBK paused, as if he was looking for a word that wasn’t “buried.” He finally sighed. “When I awoke, I was placing an image of you that no longer existed onto you and expecting you to play along. I am deeply sorry for that.”

Wow. Wukong hadn’t expected DBK to actually apologize.

Iron Fan, based on her sputter when DBK looked back, didn’t either. She did roll her eyes and kneel. “I am…sorry,” she practically spat out. “I am sorry for placing such high expectations-”

Wukong quietly cleared his throat and beckoned the clone.

Iron Fan looked up and visibly paled. She returned her gaze to the tarmac. “- and not fully explaining what I wanted,” she continued, actually sounding honest. “I took some pleasure in it, because I thought that it would make sure you would never leave.” Her annoyed expression faded with each word, replaced by a look of bafflement.

…huh?

Red didn’t seem to notice the strange logic. He stared at his parents like he had never seen them before, and, yep, those were tears beading up. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like he needed to prompt anyone, because Xiaotian took a step forward. 

“Are…are you okay?”

“Yes!” Red screeched, tears beading up as he looked away to hide them, seeming to forget how they turned to steam.

His successor and his friend exchanged looks. She spoke up, a sympathetic smile forming. “Do you want a hug?”

“...maybe!”

She held out her arms and Red leaned into them, never quite uncrossing his arms. Xiaotian wrapped an arm on his other side. Wukong felt his heart melt slightly as Red relaxed, just a bit. He pulled out his phone and sent a bit of cash to Xiaotian’s account, sending him a text just to be safe. It looked like they needed a friendship outing.

He turned and left, not noticing the couple watch him leave.

(When the message arrived later that night, he noticed.)

-_-

The ice cream outing had been…surprisingly pleasant, all things considered.

Neither of the peasants had said much about his tears. Instead, the dragon girl had jabbed him into a conversation about vehicles and the Noodle Boy had asked him about ancient ice cream. If they weren’t enemies of his clan, Red admitted to himself as he entered the kitchen and opened the fridge to grab some juice, he would’ve wanted to do it again. 

“Good morning.”

“Good morn-” Red paused. He ran that through his mind again. The juice slipped from his fingers as he whirled around.

Sun Wukong sat at the table with a cup of tea. He looked exhausted, his fur messy, and he wore a white shirt that had definitely been bought for his father. As he raised the cup to his lips, he waved.

“Wha- HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?!” Red sputtered, looking around for any signs of damage. It wouldn’t be the first time his uncle had surprised them at breakfast, with usually a door broken (and repaired before he left) or a window shattered. At the very least, he would be polite enough to set off a trap. But as he looked around, he realized there wasn’t any signs of a break in. “You shouldn’t be here!”

“Bud,” Wukong sighed, his voice whisper soft and cracking slightly. “Please, talk a bit more quietly. Your parents kept me up all night.”

“What, fighting?” A horrible thought occurred and Red Son reared back, letting his flames roar up. He held his fists up, very determined in that moment to defend himself. “What did you do to them-”

“My son, please, not so early.”

Relief crashed over him like a tsunami. He whirled around in time to see his mother and father walk in. His relief died when he took in their states- his mother’s hair was also messy and her neat pajamas were hastily thrown on. His father looked to be covered in-

Dots connected.

Oh no. Nope.

“I’M MOVING OUT!” he yelled, turning and marching out of the room and his parents, who have for some reason lost their minds and slept with the fucking simian. Nope! He had to deal with this crap as a young child, he wasn’t doing it again!

“YOU AND XIAOJIAO SHOP AT THE SAME MECHANIC’S!” Wukong called after him. “SHE AND XIAOTIAN ARE THERE TODAY! TAKE SOME CASH FROM MY PURSE!”

…well, Red admitted, turning and heading to his parents’ bedroom. He couldn’t resist an offer like that.

Hopefully, it was just a one-time offer.

Right?

[celaenaeiln]

Is Dick's tendency for self-destructive habits really as bad as some fics make it out to be?

oh interesting!! In some way, yes actually.

Batman (2016) Issue #689

Dick and Alfred!! The duo make me so happy <33

But anyway, it's weird that someone who's so effusive with his affection so often and readily "deflects a moment of genuine emotion." Which is also one of the reasons why Dick Grayson as a character is so fascinating because he's never what people expect him to be. He's like a puzzle box where every time you think you solved, you just opened yourself up to a hard, even more complex one wherein the process repeats on an endless cycle.

He's incredibly self-destructive in the way he drive a burning car off a bridge and he'll know it's on fire, he knows where he's going, but he'll do it anyway because the car has a bomb and it's safer with him than the civilians behind him.

You know what? I just realized he deflects intimate conversations because he wants to keep the focus on the other person. Since he was Robin, Dick has been purposefully neglecting his feelings in order to take care of Bruce's. Right after his parents died, he bottled up his sadness and sorrow because he was worried that Bruce would blame himself and he didn't want Bruce to do that.

It's always been "Tell me what's wrong, Bruce." He's been so busy raising his guardian, his friends, his siblings, his teammates, that Dick has sunk into the role of a performer - the spotlight's on him but the audience is the focus.

I didn't realize until writing this ask but self-destruction is just such a normal thing with him that it's become a part of his personality. In fics it's very obvious when he's being self-destructive or neglecting himself or etc because he's very aware of it but Dick in canon has just made it his thing. It's actually the Titans that realize this and yank him out of it because Dick has no idea what he does to himself.

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #28

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #28

He's not self-destructive in a way that he's conscious of it but his habits and his lifestyle don't really give him a choice. He literally works himself sick.

The Titans (1999) Issue #9

"Maybe it's too much. Dick --have you considered that? You're working Bludhaven, even joining their force, you still clearly intend to come here to Gotham every time he calls you -- working so hard you're making yourself sick,"

"No. It's not the newness that's the problem."

People are literally telling him to calm down and he's like 'No! I'm perfectly okay. This is fine, let's continue.'

And this isn't even going into when Blockbuster blew up his life and Dick kinda lost himself to hunt him down and make him pay. People understand that Desmond burnt down the circus but Dick was still connected to the people in that circus, like he used his contacts there to sometimes inquire about things going on Bludhaven. The people at the circus raised him along with his parents so killing them was like killing Dick's aunts and uncles and friends and childhood. What happened then and after the SA was catastrophic. To Dick self-destruction has just become a part of him because he aims for perfection in every aspect of his life.

Like Donna said, "He works with the Titans, on his own, goes to school, and then he works alongside Batman..." and so on. Usually people struggle to maintain even one area of their life like just school or family but Dick's juggling, his work, his family, his friends, his relationship, his teams, and is still on call for Justice League incidents.

Titans (2003) Issue #6

He literally dropped everything to come over and break up the Titans (OF WHICH HE IS NOT EVEN A PART OF RIGHT NOW BECAUSE HE'S IN THE MIDDLE OF DEALING WITH THE OUTSIDERS) and the Justice League full on fighting.

He's not self-destructive in the way he doesn't want to get out of bed or that he isn't clean, it's just that Dick Grayson is a machine. He's got ice in his veins and he just powers through everything. Everything he does has to be top notch, so sleep and social life and happiness can say goodbye because he's too busy for that. This is why the Titans are so important to him and for him because they realize this toxic trait of his and do their absolute best to yank him out of this bad habit because Dick certainly can't stop.

So self-destruction has become part of his personality but unlike in fics, it's conducive self-destruction. It comes from his refusal to feel any emotion that isn't for others because Big Brother Dick Grayson and Best Friend Dick Grayson are always there for everyone but the second he's asked to help himself or someone tries to help him, he flakes. He's the best at helping others and being there for them but he's allergic to getting help or talking about himself.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 9

I stopped the chapter as it was getting long and my enthusiasm was dimming, but we will see more of angry Cassian in chapter 10 (and Nesta finding it very arousing)

‘Stop it,’ she scolded. In lieu of being able to slap Cassian’s hands away, Nesta blew on them.

‘I could go to the healers for this,’ he grumbled from his position on the floor. ‘And they’d be a hell of a lot nicer to me.’

Nesta gave a drawn-out, tired sigh. ‘Well, if you’d stop fidgeting and yelping then this would have been over a lot quicker. Besides, the healers have to be nice because you’re the camp lord. I have no reason to be nice to you.’

‘Except you’re my wife.’

‘Under duress,’ she countered. ‘Now, hold still or I will… Well, if I could hit you, I would.’

Although Nesta could not see Cassian’s face, she had a good idea of how it looked. In the last week, she’d learnt all of his tells because he wore them openly. For a war lord, it hardly seemed like a good idea, but Cassian argued that when you could kill as well as him, the element of surprise wasn’t needed. For all the ferocity and ruthlessness he spoke of, a gash on the head had him squirming and complaining like a small child.

‘Sit still,’ she warned.

‘It hurts,’ he complained again, trying to move his head from her reach. She sat on the edge of the bed with her legs straddling his chest to keep him there, so if he stood, she’d be swept up onto his shoulders.

They trod a fine line with their contract. Nesta was causing him slight harm though it was done for his own benefit. He’d taken a shield to the head by Balthazar, and received a hearty round of applause from everybody present for their spar as well as questions whether using their head to block was a new tactic. To his credit, Cassian had not wanted to be late to escort Nesta to the pools – a place she wanted to visit daily – so he’d arrived outside of their tent with blood running down his face and a hand pressed to the wound to staunch it. They couldn’t go anywhere until the bleeding was stemmed.

Nesta lifted part of the gauze to peer at the wound which was finally slowing.

‘For a warrior, you really don’t do well with blood.’

‘Blood is fine. It’s the pain I don’t like.’

‘It’s a small cut, Cassian.’

He made a muttering noise which sounded a lot like the melody of her words in mockery.

The last week had flown by, busy with lessons at the big house and with Cassian. Each evening, she would have him read simple words that she’d written then make him practise writing them. He would then translate them for her to practise in Illyrian. It was the only time they often spent together since both had such busy days. With every lesson that Nesta taught, she grew into the role. If she could be honest, it came naturally to her. She’d never considered herself to be a patient person, but she discovered that she was – at least when it came to teaching. She would never rush a student along or skip over one with annoyance. Being able to learn – to be the one to help others to learn – was special. She never wanted any of them to feel like they didn’t belong in her classroom, and that included Cassian. If her student did not understand then it was Nesta’s duty to explain in a different way until the concept was grounded.

‘You know, I can just fly us up to the pools. It’s much quicker than walking.’

‘You have a severe head injury,’ she said, unhooking her legs from his shoulders and making her way out of the tent as the sunset glazed the camp in amber light.

Cassian gave a false laugh. ‘It was a small cut a moment ago. Anybody would think that you’re not keen on flying.’

‘I have legs that work.’

The lord of Iron Crest blocked her path then side-stepped each time she tried to bypass him towards the familiar craggy route upwards through the steep hills.

‘I have wings that work faster and very strong arms to hold you. You’re not against being cradled to my chest, are you?’

‘I can think of several things more enticing.’

‘So it is the height and flying in general that unsettles you.’

Nesta perched the wicker basket on her hip that contained all of the necessities for bathing. ‘If you must know, I accused Rhysand of flying deliberately slow. He then plummeted as fast possible to the ground and I vomited. Several times. So, no, I do not enjoy flying. I’d prefer not to do it.’

All of the joy evaporated from Cassian’s face. There was a steely look in his eyes that Nesta was unsettled by. ‘That bastard did what to you?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does matter. It matters a lot that he’d treat my wife that way.’

‘We weren’t married then,’ corrected Nesta. She put a hand upon his hip to turn him and began walking with Cassian following suit.

‘It doesn’t matter. You don’t do that to anybody. I would never fly you like that. You would be completely safe in my arms.’ He took the basket from her to carry. ‘The light is fading quickly. It will be dark before we’re halfway. I can’t hurt you – and I wouldn’t besides. Let me fly you.’

Against Nesta’s better judgement, Cassian was picking her up carefully as though she was a precious flower whose petals he was afraid to damage. There was a faint scent of sweat upon his skin, but the smell of the wild winds overpowered it. She’d packed a brush to encourage him to brush through the knots of his dark hair.  

She had to admit that he was careful with her, far more than Rhysand or even Azriel had ever been. Her head was tucked against the column of his neck and when he spoke, he’d tilt his face downwards and the rumble of his voice would echo through her chest. Nesta was safe.

‘Tell me if it’s too fast, too high.’

It was neither. Cassian flew low enough that if Nesta fell from his arms, she’d not break on the landing. The flight was incredibly smooth as though the Illyrian was born for it. He was, she supposed. Azriel had learned to fly later in life and Rhysand did without his wings most of the time. For Cassian, it was like breathing. It showed through the flight.

When he put her down, Nesta almost wanted to tell him to stop – that they could fly a little more.

‘You’ve got candles squirrelled away in here surely?’

With the light fading quickly, he led the way to low-ceilinged caves where the pools were and set to work lighting candles. Nesta had made promises with the other females to learn how to make them too. They spoke of males harpooning whales and using a substance from its head. She was sure she’d find the process fascinating, if it did not make her squeamish.

There was a splash and Cassian was lost to the warmth of the water.

He was part fish, Nesta was sure of it. It was her who had to coax him out back to their tent in the evenings for their lessons because Cassian wanted to remain swimming or stretching out his wings in the warmth.

‘These pools are the best and worst part of winter,’ he said, head emerging from the water. His black hair was plastered across his face.

‘How so?’

‘It’s the only place you can get warm, but that flight back with wet hair and damp clothes is almost unbearable.’

‘Don’t look,’ prompted Nesta.

Nesta had to acknowledge the fact that her brutish Illyrian war-lord might be a good male. He never did try to look while she undressed nor while she was in the water. Even in the bed at night, Cassian never accidently brushed up against her. When he gave his word, he honoured it. Nesta had seen it in the vows and declarations he made to his people. He was not above any of them. When an elder had a leaking roof, Cassian was there mending it in the rain. He often returned to their tent sweaty and dirty, with soil beneath his nails from working the fields to ensure they had enough food for their stores. Despite growing in a place that should have hardened him and made him cruel, Cassian was a good male.

‘Since your high lord has showed no signs of building us a home, we need to think about the future,’ he said. Cassian swam to her, closing the distance in a couple of strokes. ‘Winter comes quicker every year. I don’t want you growing sick from coming up here. We can have a bath made by a blacksmith for the tent. I’m strong enough to carry it when its full to empty it.’

‘No baths.’

‘Trust me, the flight from here to the tent in a snowstorm will make you sick. A bath is easier.’

‘No baths,’ she repeated, voice fraught with emotion.

It was enough for him to pull back a step. His eyes canvassed her face searching for the wound. He flexed his fingers towards his hand, afraid to touch her.

‘Why?’

She was fixed in place by the intensity of his stare. There was no running from the storm that Nesta had not dared to look at since that night in Hybern. It broke above her.

‘I was stolen from my bed and watched as my little sister was forced into the Cauldron. She came out fae. Then they came for me. I was so angry, Cassian.’ Nesta still felt the soldiers gripping her arms as they dragged her along the polished floor. ‘I attacked it. I hurt it. It wanted to keep me there. It broke me and burnt me. And now I am this.’

That night had followed her through nightmares. She could never outrun it.

Cassian’s brows lowered.

‘I’m sorry it happened to you. I wish it never had.’

Nesta gave a shrug that feigned carelessness, but she had never been a good actress. She couldn’t take the look that Cassian offered to her. The pity and the grief within. She didn’t deserve it from him. They were bonded only by law, not by the heart.

In silence, she turned her back to him and began washing, comforted by the knowledge that he would also turn the other way to offer her a little privacy and guard the entrance to the cave.

She remained wordless after she had dressed. When Cassian lifted her into his arms, Nesta kept her lips pressed together. She had said too much. Feyre had pleaded with her to speak of what had happened in the Cauldron. Nesta had refused all the requests.

‘I am too tired for our lesson tonight,’ Nesta murmured as they entered their tent.

Cassian was equally as pensive as he added coals to the brazier to keep Nesta warm during the night. When he motioned to the kettle, she shook her head. With nothing else to do, both of them slunk beneath the blankets and sleep took them both quickly.

Her feet scrambled across the polished wooden floor. Too slow. She was moving too slowly. Rough voices sounded from below. They were laughing. Boots hurried up the stairs. Nesta’s fist hammered on Elain’s door to wake her. Where were the guards? Where were the guards they were promised?

A hand clamped over her mouth.

Nesta was in the tent. The brazier gave off a little bit of light. The blankets were tangled around her legs and half were kicked onto the floor. Cassian loosened his grip on her mouth and his hand slunk down her skin, stopping on her collarbone. His other arm was around her waist holding her to him.

She could not breathe. That night had come to haunt her again. To taunt her for daring to tell Cassian a little bit of what had happened to her.

‘It was a dream, sweetheart. You’re safe.’

Nesta pressed herself deeper against him, breathing rapidly. The warmth of his body seeped through hers.

‘You were burning,’ he said. ‘But you’re so cold. How is it possible to burn silver fire?’

When Cassian laid them both back down, Nesta turned in his arms and pressed her face against his chest. His heart beat powerfully there, giving her an anchor to stop drifting into the past. His arms cradled her in the dark of their tent. His cheek came to rest atop her head.

‘I meant my vows,’ murmured Cassian. ‘You are mine to love. To protect. To die for. There is no fire I will not walk through to protect you, Nesta.’

***

The nightmares continued for another three nights. Cassian would remain vigilant and not let himself sleep too deeply so he could be ready. It was something he’d not needed to do since the blood rite when many had set their targets on him. For Nesta, those sleepless nights and tired days were worth it. His touch seemed to settle her. Once the nightmare had wounded her, it allowed Nesta to sleep as if in atonement for hurting her. Cassian would hold her close as she deserved because his mate was the most precious thing in the world.

The flames worried him though. Nesta needed training to ensure she did not hurt herself, but their magics were so different. Cassian had no idea who could train her. It wasn’t the fire of Autumn Court. Nesta’s fire burnt cold.

‘Lessons are cancelled this evening,’ he announced as he flew down beside her in the camp.

‘Too tired?’

‘You work too hard.’ Cassian slipped an arm around her waist which she didn’t shrug off to lead her towards the mess tent. ‘We are going to take our dinner and relax. There should be a good sunset tonight.’

‘You want to watch the sunset?’

‘If it’s with you, yes. I’d watch ice melt if it was with you.’

He’d always worn his heart on his sleeve – but who better to do it with than Nesta?

Carefully, Nesta clutched both of their bowls as he lifted her then they were flying with care over the heather-strewn hills until they reached a rocky overhang that jutted out towards the sea. It was calm for once, or as calm as an ocean could be. The froth rolled against the narrow strip of shore.

‘I didn’t know Iron Crest was so close to the sea.’

‘We are in the far north. Thanks to the hills, we get a lot of wind and snow in the winter. Our summers are mild at their best, cool at their worst. Nobody would choose to be here.’

She handed him his food as they sat together upon the stone. ‘Are you proud to be Illyrian?’

It was a heavy question. Would life be easier if he was high fae? Probably not. A bastard was a bastard wherever they went.

‘I’m starting to be.’

There was no protest when Cassian brought an arm around Nesta’s shoulders once they’d finished their food. She remained peering at the sunset with a touch of a smile curving her lips.

‘What are we doing up here, Cassian?’

There were smudges beneath her eyes from the repeated broken sleep. Cassian had not considered how it was for Nesta to be made fae – what it had cost her. This world was so new for her and he’d dragged her to Illyria without thought or care for her wants.

‘We are doing nothing,’ he said. ‘You work too hard. And I work far too hard.’

‘I have enough to keep me busy in the tent.’

‘Yes, well sometimes it is good to do absolutely nothing except watch a sunset with a charmingly handsome male.’

‘When can we expect that male to arrive?’

Cassian furrowed his brows. ‘I could throw you in the sea, witch.’

Finally, a sly grin appeared on Nesta’s beautiful face and the world seemed a little warmer for it. With bravery encouraging him on, Cassian brought the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.

‘We will have visitors to camp tomorrow. There will be no lessons at the big house. I would ask that you spend the day in the tent. They are not males that I want to cross your path.’ Cassian stroked his thumb against her palm because he could, because she let him. ‘They will be here for a day or two. I’m having soldiers stationed at the big house. More will be around the camp on duty.’

The need to keep watches and carry out guard duties so rarely happened in Iron Crest. It was at his suggestion that they rotated soldiers from time to time from different camps to train, share techniques, and provide healthy competition in the sparring rings. But they were not his males. Iron Crest would be on edge until they had departed. The camp’s females would be fiercely guarded, none more so than Nesta.

After the sun had set, they remained a while longer listening to the sound of the waves below. When it was time to depart, Nesta asked him in a voice full of trepidation, if they could fly a little longer. His heart soared at the request. Flying was always a delight – but flying with Nesta in his arms pushed it to a new edge. When she encouraged him to fly higher or faster, he indulged her whims until she was laughing freely in the safety of his hold. It was a sound he’d never heard from her. She’d laughed a handful of times; derisive ones meant to mock him. This unrestrained joy was precious.

‘Hold on tight,’ he murmured in her ear.

Cassian gripped her tightly then barrel-rolled through the air. She gave a shriek then another laugh as they swooped over the camp. He couldn’t resist another lap then a deep dive to their tent.

He held onto Nesta to steady her as her legs trembled from the thrill.

‘I’m glad you don’t have wings because it’s more special to fly when you’re in my arms.’

That night, Nesta did not wake thrashing. She did not burn beside him. But she did sleep with her face tucked against the crook of his neck.

***

A day in the tent had initially seemed like a good thing. Nesta had many administrative tasks that she needed to catch up on. She wanted to rearrange the learning groups to better reflect their abilities so needed to go over her class lists. A rough plan of lessons was needed to ensure their learning moved in the right direction too.

However, it was gloriously warm which was a rare thing in Iron Crest. It was hot enough that she had opted not to wear one of the thicker, Illyrian-made gowns and instead one from Velaris that allowed the air to circulate around her legs. Even with the tent flaps tied to allow a breeze, it remained stifling.

A quick jaunt towards the shade to cool down then Nesta would return.

There was not a single female to be seen across the camp. Even the usually busy mess tent was quiet. The sparring rings were anything but quiet; nearly all of the males of the camp were there observing the fighting. In the one closest to Nesta, she caught glimpses of a male on the floor from between legs. He was bloodied and broken, but his opponent continued hammering his face with fists. It turned Nesta’s stomach to see such savagery.

Near the shadows that the trees provided, she spotted a couple of her students. They were some of the older ones who balanced on the precipice between child and adult. These females were the ones who offered her eye rolls and sarcasm – but that was better than cowing their heads as many other females did in Illyria.

She had been about to stride over to them in admonishment as they ought to have been in the big house. Nesta stopped in her tracks. One of the girls was crying and the other had an arm around her, brown eyes scanning the area like a rabbit being hunted.

‘You're fast when your wings work,’ came a low male voice.

A male landed heavily in front of them, blocking Nesta’s view.

‘Go back to the sparring rings and leave these girls alone.’

‘Stay the fuck out of my business.’

The male turned. She didn’t recognise him, but knew he wasn’t Iron Crest. The males from Iron Crest had been taught differently at the hands of her husband. This male sneered at her.

‘High fae.’ He spat at the ground. ‘You don’t belong here. Run along to the Hewn City.’

‘Girls, go,’ Nesta urged.

The rustle of their wings sounded as they made a hasty escape. The male took a step closer. ‘You ruined my fun.’

‘That’s not what we do in this camp.’

‘I don’t give a fuck what a high fae bitch has to say.’

His belt had three knives and a long sword was strapped to his back between his wings. There was only one siphon on his armour but that would be enough to kill her.

‘Fly home,’ she replied. ‘You’ll need the head start.’

The male lunged for her. His grip went around her injured wrist, tight enough to make her yelp with pain.

Then a blade arced towards them, severing the hand.

‘Don’t touch what’s not yours,’ came the rough voice of her husband.

He’d moved silently. A shadow, undetected, unnoticed.

The male clutched the bloodied stump to his chest then dropped to his knees. The shock had turned his face pale. Cassian lurched for the male’s left hand then brought his sword down again, cleaving the bone.

‘There. Now you will never touch a female again.’

A grim expression was upon Cassian’s face when he turned to her, the likes of which she had not seen since he interacted with Azriel and Rhysand. She didn’t like to see it. His face was better suited to humour.

‘Go to our tent. Do not come out.’

[hazellvsq]

obviously things about the feud between frank and leo could have been executed better but one thing i do actually like about it is that both of them, in their intro books, reference being bullied in the past, and both of them have low self esteem and are seen as outcasts by others. which means that when they fight with each other, neither of them ever really sees himself as doing anything wrong because they’re both used to being on the receiving end of bullying and don’t really comprehend that they’re engaging in it themselves. more under the cut

annabeth and hazel have to explain to frank and leo respectively that the other is intimidated by them, and neither of them can really internalize that until late in the book. and leo can also justify his actions by being intimidated by frank, but he’s also intimidated by percy and annabeth, to the extent that he makes significantly less jokes at their expense, so intimidation is not actually what's motivating his antagonism. he enjoys being able to get a rise out of frank and looking smarter than him, and clearly knows that its different than teasing the people he’s actually friends with. likewise frank has no issue aiming for the jugular once he feels threatened and doesn’t seem to feel even slightly guilty about being mean to leo. and their own insecurities give them insight into the other's insecurities, which they then proceed to use against the other, (“am i worth two franks or three franks” from the guy who blew up new rome, “you care more about your ship than your friends” from the guy very obviously not considering leo to be his friend), all without admitting, to themselves or anyone else, that they’re jealous of the other. they're both projecting heavily, they both very much match each other's energy, and they have the entire ship cringing every time the two of them interact.

and i like that! it’s even one of the reasons that i ship them together, because it gives both their interactions an edge that neither of them have with other characters. they both have massive chips on their shoulders that are somewhat justified by their pasts, but it also can turn them into assholes. i like that the conflict between them revealed deeply buried mean streaks in two typically friendly characters. i think it reflects a certain type of teenage bullying where the mindset isn't "i'm going to antagonize this person i don't like," its "this person makes me feel bad and i'm reacting to it." its realistic! frank and leo show each other’s character flaws and blind spots, and the end result of it is genuine character development and growth for both once they actually try to get to know each other. and they get to a point of resolution without completely changing their personalities or erasing their flaws. its them finding genuine understanding without sandpapering away what makes their character's interesting.

[lady-eclipse3]

Kid Dark and Chosen au

I blame @i3utterflyeffect and all their awesome aus for infecting me with au making disease. I wrote the majority of this back in December in a haze of inspired mania but didn’t have the drive to finish it until now.

Au where when Dark and Chosen escape and do their attack on Newgrounds they’re like, children. Probably around 8 years old. Their young age combined with Chosen suffering from some effects caused from being in a box for most of his life (I refuse to believe that he didn’t have any lingering injuries/muscular atrophy from that) leads to them being captured and restrained during the Newgrounds attack just after Mitsi and Agent get zapped to the area.

However, due to how varied sticks are the only way to really tell how old a stick is, is by observing how they act/talk or putting them through some scan that can read that information from their code. Considering Chosen is refusing to speak and Dark is just swearing and spitting threats (he kept biting through the gags they put on him) no one at Newgrounds was aware that they were children.

Mitsi and Agent get a good look at the two terrorists and both notice how similar they look to Victim. Mitsi offers to hold them at Rocket Corp. Partly because they really do look like they could be related to Victim, but mostly because, with the animation tools Vic took from Alan, they’d have the best chance at making restraints that would work on the two.

Considering the restraints on them were already starting to decay and there not really being any other option, the other animations agree.

So Mitsi goes back through the internet portal first and tells Victim that Agent and the others are alright and that they need a way to contain 2 very powerful sticks pronto. She also tells him about how they look similar to him which Victim doesn’t really give much thought to since he’s more worried about making working restraints. Victim goes and draws, I don’t know, some super powerful power nullifying cuffs or something. Dark and Chosen, who are brought back alongside Agent, get the new cuffs slapped on them as soon as they touch down at RC.

And well, damn. Now that Victim is looking at them they really do have a lot of similar features to him. But obviously it’s all just a weird coincidence, there’s lots of sticks out there, some of them are going to look similar to each other.

Anyway neither of the kids are talking at this point, Dark is just growling and baring his (very sharp) teeth and Chosen is still silent. Since neither of them are willing to talk Victim does a scan on both of them trying to find out who they are or any other information on them. showing that, surprise, they were made be Alan and are Victims siblings and also that they are actually children and not just small adults. It also shows all the health problems that Chosen and Dark have.

Chosen’s code, alongside all the side effects of being in the box for so long, shows the remains of a popup blockers code. Dark’s code still has that Eliminate The Chosen One command in it, though it seems to be temporarily deactivated

And now there’s a whole bunch of new problems. Firstly Alan is still making stick figures. Victim, understandably, is kinda terrified by that. But it only takes one question about their animator for Dark to snarl that they weren’t going back there and even if they tried to send them back, they’d completely and irreparably destroyed the computer they were made on.

---

“You… you were made by Noogai.”

At this, the black one, The Chosen One, flinched and the red one, The Dark Lord, jerked as though he was going to lunge at Victim, Agent’s hand twitching on his weapon.

“You can’t send us back to him!” he snarled, “You can’t, we clawed our way outta his pc and blew up the whole thing on the way!” He bared his teeth in a sharp grin “There’s nothing left of it, it was blue screened and everything.”

The terror that had gripped Victim faltered. “You… blue screened Noogai’s PC.”

“Yeah! And we’ll do it to this stupid place too! Just you wait we’ll get out of these stupid cuffs and then this place -“

“You weren’t the only one to claw your way out of his PC. I just didn’t have the strength to blow it up when I did”

That seemed to stop The Dark Lord in his tracks as he blinked in startled confusion. But before he could say anything-

“How did you escape?”

The Chosen One had finally decided to talk.

He frowned, “When did you escape? I never saw you on the PC when I was - active” His voice was quite and calm.

Victim inhaled shakily, “Before you were made.” His escape and The Chosen One’s creation must have been mere hours apart. The scan says he was made the same day he escaped. Hell the kid was probably made because he escaped. Victim feels sick at the thought.

---

And Victim really looks at the kids at this point. It’s not as evident on Dark, but both of them have that haunted look of someone who’s gone through something no one should ever have to go through. Victim knows that look very well. (He used to see it every time he looked in the mirror. Sometimes he still does)

So, Victim gives them a choice.

They can either stay with him, someone who went through the same stuff they did, and keep the cuffs on until it’s decided that they aren’t a danger anymore, or they can be sent to wherever young stick criminals go. (Victim is sure the rest of the Net won’t exactly like the first option, but RC is the only place that can make restraints that work on them and if they try to make him give the kids up he sure as hell won’t let them have the cuffs so the rest of the Net doesn’t get a choice)

And well, neither of them want to get put in stick juvie so they agree to pretend to try this rehabilitation thing and escape when they get a chance.

It takes a while, but eventually both of them start to calm down and heal. Their want for destruction fades away because of the positive influences they now have in their lives. It eventually gets to a point where the cuffs are removed and Victim gets them a remote area where they can go and play with their power without causing any damage to others.

During all that Dark, Victim, and Mitsi bond over their shared interest in technology and Chosen bonds with them over… something else, I don’t really have any ideas on what. They both hassle Agent, trying to get him to spar with them (Dark more so then Chosen) and he winds up teaching them both some hand to hand while their powers are still locked.

Showdown still happens, several years down the line, but it’s basically just Dark and Chosen screaming at each other because Dark kept bring up trying to get revenge on their creator. Chosen just wants peace and going for revenge would only stir up trouble. They can’t even get revenge if they wanted, Noogai’s PC is dead and gone (heh) Eventually they compromise. Dark won’t try to find and attack Noogai but he’ll build the Virabots just in case their creator ever rears his head again.

From there on they just…live. Dark helps in the labs with making new tech and Chosen helps with security (I don’t know what to do with him bro has no hobbies. Maybe he helps out on the farm? I don’t know if they still even have a farm.)

At some point they hear about a strange occurrence. The game Minecraft was almost completely destroyed and no one can pinpoint a cause for what happened. RC, and by extension the three siblings, start to investigate and well. I’ll leave that up to you.

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Beginnings...

Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

The Cursed Trio | Shared Moments

...

Your arrival to the academy came as a surprise to many, apparently you were some transfer from overseas. You'd show a shit ton of promise that they transferred you to Jujutsu in order to more efficiently reach your true potential. Rumor was it, you'd one day make it as a Special Grade. Even so, for now you remained a Grade One.

Your Japanese was decent at best and your adaptation to their customs was a work-in-progress but you held this certain charm that just drew people in. And no, I'm not talking about the kind of charm where everyone falls in love. No, it's the type of charm that makes people relax around you, makes them want to put their faith in you no matter how much to try to prevent that.

You could be a fresh of spring just as you could be a fresh of icy air, the kind that freezes up your lungs.

The first time you saw them, you were being shown around by your mentor --- a stoic expression written on your scarred face as you nodded at them. Briefly acknowledging them as you continued on your way.

Geto had figured your eyes as beautiful --- like an eternal flame hidden behind layers of stone wettened under a stream of a freshwater. Whilst Gojo had figured you a possible new victim for his pranks and teases. In fact, Gojo even had the nerve to interrupt your tour. Demanding to know your name. Shoko, who had been hanging about, was glad another girl had joined the academy. Afterall, it was getting rather stuffy with all the testosterone.

They knew you'd get well with the duo when the first thing you did was insult Gojo, although both him and Geto didn't really understand your insult. Actually, they didn't even know you insulted him until Shoko just started laughing out loud.

You called him a phospholipid??? The actual fuck is that

At that, you gave them a deadpanned stare, speaking in broken japanese that at the very least he should get educated because he was obviously missing a few brain cells

Now at this, both Shoko and Geto bent over laughing while Gojo stood there momentarily stunned before a sinister smirk adorned his lips. He went to insult you back but was quite literally by the sight of your hand in his face, "No time for idiot. Bye."

The absolute nerve on you!

Geto absolutely loved you since that day. On the other hand, it was a enemies to whatever with Gojo, which is ironic considering that he sought you out every moment of the day.

You and Shoko became the best of girl-friends. To be honest, the two of you were incredibly similar. The both of you were lazy as hell, smart as hell, and blunt as hell. Although, you seemed to have mastered the trick of honeying your harsh words so much so that people didn't even fight you on it.

To put their friendship into perspective, Shoko brought the cigarettes and you brought the lighter (despite you being a non-smoker. Once you tried to smoke but you didn't like the taste of it so you left it at that)

Although there was a time Gojo was being a nuisance so you grabbed a cigarette from Shoko's carton, lit it, and blew the smoke straight into his face when he wasn't expecting it

Watching him double-over choking was a grand sight indeed

You managed to make quite the number of friends while there, although many noticed how you kept a distance. I say this literally. You never let anyone come physically close to you, as though a simple graze from them would kill you or something. No-one dare question it consider that they also had their traumas that prevented them from certain indulgences. But sometimes, you'd make small exceptions. I think it's mainly of a "dont touch me but I'll touch you" situation.

Like you don't mind swiping dust off of Nanami's shoulder, or neatening Shoko's hair when it's gotten all frizzy due to the wind, or picking off lint off of Yaga's clothes.

But if you didn't initiate it, you'd go silently rigid.

During class, you like hanging around this one guy name Yu. Mainly because he knew a bit of your native language (surprising I know) and so, you felt safe enough to speak with him considering that you both spoke brokenly in either tongue. The only other person you felt safe enough to speak was Geto. He was actually the one that took it upon himself to teach you Japanese.

He'd recommend shows to watch and he'd watch with you so that he could explains certain customs and what-not of his culture. He found great amusement when a scene he knew you wouldn't understand played and you'd instantly pause the show to look at him with a questioning expression. It made you look rather cute in his eyes.

Gojo would often times crash during these hang-outs. Pestering you to learn his language quicker so that he can properly cuss you out (he says this while having an arm over you shoulder and leaning his full weight into your side. Surprisingly, you never said anything despite your reservations to touching.)

You chalked it up to wanting warmth.

Then came that point in your language-education where Geto wanted you to try speaking in a public setting and you just about cried right in front of him and Gojo. You gripped your fist so tight your nails drew blood, an action to prevent you from clinging onto Geto's clothes as he scolded Gojo for worsening your nerves. Gojo didn't stop laughing until he saw actual tears in your eyes.

With silent chuckles, Gojo took you by the shoulders and guided you over to some random corner store. You never once told him what your favorite snack was but somehow he knew to choose it before placing it in your hand. He told you exactly what you needed to say to the cashier with the exact amount of yen needed.

The both of them watched as you walked up to the cashier, briefly glancing over your shoulder to Gojo (still very much teary-eyed and rigid-body), who silently mouth the words again, before doing as he instructed.

After the whole ordeal, you surprised Gojo with an incredibly rare hug. I think at that moment, you truly managed to snake your way into his soul.

Geto stood to the side, a knowing smile on his lips as he watched you quickly let go. Shouting at Gojo that he owes you a sweet because of how brave you were, which should've annoyed him but only made you look endearing.

...

(A/N): Have yet to see Season 2 but those fucking beta fish tiktoks are murdering me right now with their symbolism.

Say, why don't you like being touched? What happened to you?

Where'd you get the scar?

And what's up with Geto's eternal flame comparison? So weird.

Drop a comment

Feel free to buy me a 🦩

Hope you enjoyed!

Edited: 7/25/2023

[nevertheless-moving]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE DEMON OF YUNMENG

Chapter One/ AU Masterlist — Chapter Thirteen

Yeah, he had definitely overdone it on range — they were lucky that the compass hadn’t just brought them to the fucking burial mounds. Still, Lan Zhan’s stamina was as impressive as his speed, and if Wei Wuxian clung to him too hard as they flew, well. That could have just been him being wanton.

They managed to triangulate the source to a high mountain cave whose entrance was, indeed, heavy with resentment. Even if there had been corpses strewn at the rocky shelf, as the growing whispers suggested there should be, the cold would have desiccated their bodies. So the scent of blood in the air was just a memory, a hundred hundred deaths echoing over one another.

Perfect.

Wei Wuxian pulled out Chenqing, coaxing out a few of the more coherent spirits from the miasma. 

“Can play Inquiry,” Lan Wangji said.

“No need,” Wei Wuxian replied, as ghosts clambered over each other to bemoan their fate directly into his skull. “They’re eager to share. It’s a Nian. These poor bastards were between towns during the turn of the year and weren’t protected.”

They both studied the cave entrance in silence.

“Are you familiar with one being killed?” Lan Wangji finally asked.

Wei Wuxian shook his head. “No... no they’re easy enough for regular people to scare away that I don’t think most cultivators bother hunting them.”

They studied the cave entrance again.

“We could return with more cultivators,” Lan Wangji said.

“Hm. Yeah, Hold on a second —” he blew several notes, ignoring Lan Wangji’s thinned lips. Again, the dead were eager to complain. “Yeah, they were all — wait — okay almost all taken during one New Years celebration or another. So not much risk if we leave it a few months. Wow, this thing must be a thousand years old, easy. Or maybe there's been generations living here? Okay, if you all talk at once its not going to help me understand.”

“Inquiry is safer,” Lan Wangji said. 

“I’m not going to get possessed, Lan Zhan, give me some credit.”

“Still taking resentment into your body.”

“A skill I am, by all definitions, a master of,” Wei Wuxian said impatiently. “Lan Zhan, can we not do this right now?” 

“When would Wei Ying prefer to do it?”

Wei Wuxian grinned. 

“Wei Ying.”

“Look, the thing is probably asleep. I’ll prepare some obnoxiously loud, flashy talismans and if it ends up being too hard a fight we can scare it further into its cave and get out of there, but these guys —” He jerked his thumb up and behind him. “Are really not going to be able to grasp the idea of noble heroes waiting before killing the thing that ripped them to shreds.”

Lan Wangji eyed the slowly congealing mass of resentment starting to spiral around Wei Wuxian. 

“They will move on once the beast is dead?” Lan Wangji asked.

“They won’t move on with it alive," Wei Wuxian replied. 

//

“Wei Ying.”

“...”

“Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan, I said I really needed to focus with these.”

“Why does Wei Ying not use cinnabar?” 

“I don’t like the color.”

“...”

“Blood is more powerful, alright! Why would I use a more expensive, less powerful option when my body literally makes the best conduit for spiritual energy for free? I know it’s not considered orthodox best practice, but poor cultivators use blood all the time, it’s not specifically demonic.” 

“...”

“Lan Zhan! What the fuck!”

“Wei Ying said blood is more powerful.”

“I — sure, but I very obviously was not asking — Lan Zhan! Stop cutting yourself!”

“Blood is flowing regardless of if Wei Ying uses it or not.”

“Fuck — fine, whatever, give me five seconds to get a vial or something, you complete nutjob.”

“...”

“Don’t look sarcastically at me. Writing with my own blood is way less creepy than going around taking other people’s.”

“...”

“Yeah, yeah, you offered it, but still! Not a good habit Lan Zhan! Do you have any idea what sort of spells I could cast on you with freely given blood!”

“Trust Wei Ying.”

“Not a strong defense of your sanity. Okay, no more surprises, seriously these are finicky. There’s a reason I prefer gui.”

“...”

“Disapproving glares count as distractions!”

//

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian said sometime later, flexing the cold out of his fingers. “I think we’re good.” He spun Chenqing to work his hands, letting the increasingly eager horde crowd closer. More had flowed out of the cave while he had worked, drawn by humming and ripples of purpose. “Ready to defeat another legendary monster?”

Lan Wangji stared at a particularly excited and coherent ghost who had their hands on Wei Wuxian’s shoulders and was all but bouncing with excitement. Ah, nothing like getting to kill the thing that killed you to make someone’s afternoon.

“....Wei Ying does not have his sword.”

“Oh for fucks sake.” Wei Wuxian put a hand to his face, groaning. “Lan Zhan, even before I started cultivating gui dao, it’s not like I needed a sword to win a fight. Or do you not remember literally the first time we met ? The Cave of Xunawu of Slaugher?”

“I remember. Those were less dangerous.”

“Less dangerous,” Wei Wuxian repeated flatly.

Lan Wangji nodded, drawing himself up. “Less dangerous to your soul than fighting a beast with the anger of those who it killed.”

Wei Wuxian threw his hands in the air, sending some of the more formless spirits skittering backwards. “Lan Zhan, I’m not going to suddenly return to the sword path! I’m not going to ignore literally the perfect opportunity to fight resentment with resentment. If you don’t like it than fight the fucking thing on your own.”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Okay, I walked right into that one. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and considering.

“Fine,” he said slowly. “You can fight it on your own. But you have to swear not to do anything stupid just because you don’t want me getting the hems of your nice white Lan robes dirty.”

“Mn.”

“If you even think you might be outmatched you use one of my talismans.”

“Mn.”

“And if I run in there to back you up because I sense it's going badly then you don’t waste time yelling at me if I make its victims crawl back up its throat.”

“...”

“I’m not arguing on that one.” He poked a finger at Lan Zhan’s chest for emphasis. “I’ll let you take a first swing, but I’m not going to hesitate to jump in if I think it’s needed, and I’m not going to change my methods to suit your preferences. If you can't accept that then I’ll go in there without you.”

“...Mn.”

“Great.” He shoved a small stack of firework talismans at Lan Zhan’s chest. “Rip one with intent or send a deliberate jolt of spiritual energy through; it will activate five seconds later, so I recomend throwing it fast, or at least not looking straight at it."

Lan Wangji nodded, gingerly tucking three into each sleeve pocket.

They stared at one another. Cold wind caught their robes.

“What?” Wei Wuxian said, folding his arms. “You want a kiss for good luck? Noble cultivator going to slay the evil dragon while his worried wife waits for him to return from battle?”

Lan Wangji looked down, tips of his ears pinking. 

“Fuck’s sake,” Wei Wuxian muttered, stepping in and grabbing his collar. “How the hell can you look like a kitten whose tail I stepped on without changing your expression?”

He pressed a firm, but decidedly closed mouth to Lan Zhan’s lips. When Lan Zhan’s arms came around him he allowed himself a few seconds to enjoy, but pushed back when his hands inevitably started sliding downward.

“I can not believe that Hungaung-Jun has secretly been this lustful creature all along,” Wei Wuxian said, smirking. “On the bloodstained steps outside the monster’s cave? With the dead watching?”

Lan Wangji glanced pointedly around at the blood free ground. 

“Lan Zhan.”

He looked even more pointedly at the lingering spirits, hand moving towards his gunquin.

Wei Wuxian burst out laughing. “Ah! Lan Zhan!” he gasped between laughs. “Ahhaa! Lan Er-Gongzi! Ha! Shameless!”

“Mm.” Lan Zhan nodded, then turned and walked into the cave without further witty comments.

Wei Wuxian shook his head, snorting, then cracked his fingers and turned to study the confused mob. 

“Okay,” he said, bringing Chenqing up to his mouth. “Who wants to thank the cultivators who are freeing their souls from their unhallowed resting place while also getting to shed blood?” 

//

Various monstrous noises came from within the cave while he worked; it became clear soon enough that Lan Zhan had the upper hand, so Wei Wuxian gradually shifted focus from listening for calls for aid over to wrangling several centuries of resentful spirits into a new common cause.

He had nearly finished by the time Lan Wangji emerged, only slightly worse for the wear,

“Wei Ying. What are you doing?” he asked as soon as he came into view.

Wei Wuxian finished the riff, then sealed off a line of talismans with quick strokes, watching them flash red with satisfaction.

“Trapping the Nian’s victims so I can call on them later, isn’t it obvious?” he said. “How did the fight go? Sounded like you only used two of my talismans so it must have been pretty straightforward, right? Was it sleeping?”

“Wei Ying. Why.” 

He sighed. Yeah, I didn’t think I was going to get out of this conversation. 

“Lan Zhan, aren’t you tired of having the same argument and getting nowhere?”

“Their souls need to move on,” Lan Wangji said, stepping closer. “We can perform rites. Let them reincarnate. Do not do this.”

Wei Wuxian pressed his hands together in front of his face, inhaling. “Lan Wangji,” he said slowly. “I assure you, their souls are not damaged by my traps. I will release them in less than a month, hopefully with less resentment to cloud their rest, but certainly with no more.”

Lan Wangji's breath puffed in front of him when he exhaled. "This is why you didn't argue about fighting the best with me."

Wei Wuxian shrugged.

“You plan on using them.” Lan Wangji’s expression was cold. “At the conference.”

“If necessary.” Wei Wuxian crouched down again, whistling to call in the last stragglers, patting the pieces of talisman paper that would temporarily home them.

“Wei Ying.”

He ignored Lan Zhan, bringing Chenqing back to his lips and focusing on the final seals.

“...This is what the compass was for.” Lan Wangji said hollowly.

Whispers ebbed away as the last spell finished. The wind quieted, and Wei Wuxian looked around with some satisfaction.

I'd like to see someone else cleanse that much resentment as cleanly as I just did, given ten times the time.

“Wei Ying.”

“I mean not the initial idea,” he said, cracking his back. “I've been playing with the thought for ages, can you imagine how useful it willbe during night hunts? And It's not like anyone beside me would be able to use it for this specific purpose. But is it why I've been focusing so hard on it the last several days? Yeah, of course.”

Lan Wangji clenched his sword. “Wei Ying said he did not want a fight.”

“That doesn't mean one won't happen anyway!” Wei Wuxian replied, throwing his hands in the air.

Lan Wangji stepped closer, eyes intent. “I will not abandon you. My brother will not abandon me. You do not need these tricks.”

“That's great. Really, it is,” Wei Wuxian said, forcing himself not to yell. “But Lan zhan, I could get jumped the second I step inside that tower. I could get jumped before that.”

Lan Wangji froze even further. 

“Oh man, it really didn’t occur to you,” Wei Wuxian dragged a hand down his face. “Lan Zhan, this whole fucking thing could be a very simple trap. Whose word would the Jianghu believe if a bunch of Jin got in a fight with me in a conveniently isolated place?”

The idea very clearly had not occurred to Lan Zhan, who stared blankly at him. Wei Wuxian battered down a mix of pity and annoyance. 

“I would protect you,” Lan Wangjj finally said.

“Hunguang-Jun is very noble. But that’s an extremely fucking stupid idea.”

Lan Wangji stared at him, expression void of movement. Wei Wuxian had the sinking suspicion that his feelings were hurt.

“I’m talking about before we do our whole song and dance.” Wei Wuxian said, not sure if he was trying to make Lan Zhan feel better or worse. “If your presence deters them from a sneak attack, fine, great, wonderful. But if I step in that tower and get immediately ambushed, you trying to interfere would just escalate the situation.”

“And a hundred ghosts won’t?” Lan Wangji said cooly

“No! It wouldn’t risk dragging Gusu lan  into another intersect war for no fucking reason!” Wei Wuxian cried. “Come on, Most likely, people would assume I’ve enchanted you, so then people would be mad at me for that too! At least the ghost thing is what people expect from me!”

The line of Lan Wangji's jaw tightened.

“Really, there’s going to be like a thousand cultivators there, and I’m not going to be able to get away with bringing in bodies, it’s not as if they’ll be able to do any real damage.” Wei Wuxian picked up the stack of talismans, carefully tucking them into a spirit bag. “They’re a distraction so I can get out of there without having to kill too many people. Ideally I’ll pick up at least ten times this amount in the next few weeks.”

Lan Wangji stared at him, hands clenched, but eyes lacking the heat that meant it was horny clenching. Wei Wuxian also suspected his grip changed with different emotions, but that would require further study.

“How about we argue about this once we’re not on top of a mountain?” Wei Wuxian finally offered. “It’s fucking cold up here.”

Warily, Lan Wangji eyed the bag stuffed with souls.

“I know how to handle gui, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian said, offended. “Even if you don’t like how I do it, they’re not going to pop out until I want them to. These guys were easy, anyway. The second you killed the beast they basically went to sleep — a quarter of them passed on then and there.”

Lan Wangji bowed his head but moved forward to carry Wei Wuxian down without further argument.

Briefly, Wei Wuxian worried this ride would be excruciatingly awkward.

But the second Lan Zhan offered his hand to pull him up on his sword and touched admittedly freezing skin, focus was redirected. Lan Wangji pulled him in tight, and Wei Wuxian gladly buried his face into a warmchest, shoving his hands under Lan Zhan’s robes shamelessly.

They descended in silence that was peaceful, if only temporarily. 

The next days followed a similar rhythm. Wei Wuxian explained in greater detail the scenarios in which hundreds of ghosts would be extremely helpful. Lan Zhan tried to get him to give up demonic cultivation. Wei Wuxian soothed his growing collection each night, demonstrating his total mastery of his art. Lan Zhan tried to get him to give up demonic cultivation. Wei Wuxian went over how not cruel his spirit traps were. Lan Zhan tried to get him to give up demonic cultivation. Wei Wuxian distracted Lan Zhan by sucking his dick. Afterwards, Lan Zhan tried to get him to give up demonic cultivation.

He had hoped that another pair of pants would rip and provide further diversions, but to his dismay he realized that Lan Zhan must have noticed the weakening fabric while doing the washing, and carefully repaired the seams. Wei Wuxian closed his eyes, thumb traceing the extremely thoughtful and irritating row of stitches.

It’s probably for the best, he tried to tell himself, woefully remembering the best orgasm of his entire life. Last time was a mess. I need to buy some actual open crotch pants, probably with very specific measurements, not just count on Lan Zhan to rip my existing ones the exact right amount. 

Still. Even with the slowly growing energy he had to dedicate to managing his little army, it was hard to forget that sort of sex.

Lan Wangji had also very obviously not forgotten that night, both for better and for worse, and although he seemed determined to get in his own way of actually getting to Wei Wuxian’s asshole, he still paid it as much attention as was possible through clothing, inspiring a tremendous range of sounds. Also earning quite a few more blow jobs, an art which Lan Wangji was happy to assist Wei Wuxians mastery of.

Ever tweaking the range on his compass, they had found their way to a town which had died en masse of famine (score!) and were conveniently eager to blame the cultivation world for their tragedy (double score!); Lan Zhan was once again glaring at each spirit he added to his arsenal.

“For fucks sake,” Wei Wuxian said, cutting off mid-verse. “Just don't watch! Go… wash some pants or something!” 

Lan Wangji’s jaw ticked. “Binding souls like this is immoral,” he said for possibly the millionth time.

“It. Is. Fine,” Wei Wuxian insisted, on his last nerve. “This guy —” He shook one of the straw dolls he had been collecting this hungry batch in. “—Just wants to throw a tantrum at this point, he can't even remember what it's about anymore. It's a win-win — he gets to blow off some steam and maybe move on, I get a good distraction. Lan Zhan, please —”

“Spirits committing violence only tethers -”

“Whaaaat! Really?? Is that how it works?!? Oh, I didn't realize you were an expert on gui! My mistake, I've been getting it all wrong! Of course the peerless Hunguang-jun knows best in all things!”

“Wei Ying.”

“Don't you Wei ying me “ he snapped. “i know what I'm fucking talking about. I'm not going to deny that during the sunshot campaign i prolonged and exacerbated the dead's resentment — that was fucked up, sure, it was war. This isn't even that! This is just temporarily delaying lancing a boil so its juice can be used. Fuck, that's a terrible metaphor. It's redirecting the storm to do some good! I know I already used that one but I stand by it!”

Lan Zhan stared at the luring array Wei Wuxian had drawn out of a desire to rest his throat.

“What can I do so you will not feel the need to use this power,” he asked, voice quiet. “Just... at the conference.”

Wei Wuxian blinked. That was a slightly different tactic. He had gotten used to more or less the same rhetoric over and over again.

“Lan Zhan,” he said softly. “There's nothing else. They'll let us speak or they won't. They’ll believe us or they won’t.”

Lan Wangji’s fists were balled up at his side. “What else can I do. To make sure they believe Wei Ying is innocent.”

Wei Wuxian rubbed his face. “I don't know. As many jokes as i've made, and as entertaining as the idea is, I don't actually think sticking our tongues down each other's throats in front of the surviving culitvation world is going to present a more compelling argument than something more tasteful.”

“Wei Ying must have some idea.”

Exhaling, he gave the question due consideration. “...People might catch on if I tell all the lies and you tell all the truth,” he said reluctantly.  “I guess you could do more of the talking? Lying, I mean, not implying. You could, I don't know, be the one to give the big dramatic speech? And very directly lie to everyone. A lot. ”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji nodded.

“What.”

“I will say what needs to be said. Wei Ying will help me plan.” He glanced at the hovering, slavering spirits. “We will now."

“You're really going to cross that line?" Wei Wuxian said incredulously. "Just to slightly reduce the chance of me using the ghost path more?”

“To protect Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian felt inexplicable heat crawl up his spine. “Okay I know I've been saying this a lot. But you really, really, really don't have to do that.”

Lan Wangji swallowed, taking a step closer. “Want to protect Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian closed his eyes. “I'm not going to stop using the ghost path.” 

“Let me shorten how far you must travel down it,” Lan Wangji said, reaching out to hold his waist far more tentatively than Wei Wuxian had gotten used to. "Please, Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian dropped his head to Lan Zhan’s shoulder, breathing in sandalwood and sweat. “Most people would say that I’m too far gone for it to matter much at this point.”

“I do not care about the opinions of most people.”

Wei Wuxian snorted. “Yeah,” he said amused. “I’m getting that. Okay. Sure. Let’s teach you how to lie shamelessly.”

Next (Chapter Fifteen)