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#Too painfully shy to tag this in any main tags so if it's seen it's seen and if not that's showbiz baybee
flower-seller · 2 years
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Heya! Feeling a little under the weather and bored so I wanted to say that if anyone had any questions about this AU or characters within, I'd be willing to answer a few!
Some answers might be a bit vague since we intend to expound on them fully in writing, but I'm willing to give out some nuggets of context.
– Salem FlowerSeller
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Resistance II
A Dystopian AU. Please don’t ask how much there’s gonna be. I’m not sure. But I might add more characters/readers if there’s interest.
Warnings: Violence, dark elements, tags to be added as we progress, tags will not be exhaustive so be wary.
Summary: A part of the underground, you fall into the hands of the authority you seek to derail.
Character: Bucky Barnes
Note: I always love feedback in any form so don’t be shy. Thank you for reading and for all your support. 💗
Inspired by the LEWK.
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Your head pounds with the thumping against the side of the truck. Your breath puffs a cloud into the cold air of the compartment, the chatter in your teeth rattling down your spine. Now the wheels have stilled, you can get your feet under you, using the wall to push yourself up.
You’re sore and dizzy from the violent turns, not stupid enough to presume they were unintentional. Each veer sent you rolling or flying across the cramped space, clattering into the side violently. You stand straight and face the doors, the long bar grinding from without as you watch, bracing yourself.
You ball your hands in the cuffs behind you, ready to fling a foot out in defense. As the doors swing out, there’s an odd pop and a weight crashes into your chest, knocking you onto your back so the wind drains from you. You cough and wheeze again, that same dull struggle from the alley fills your bones.
You roll onto your side and heave. You stare at the beanbag as you feel the bruise rising to the surface already. Heavy footsteps hop up and you’re hauled off the floor. The man in the blue uniform of the Triarch drags you out and you stagger onto the ground, hitting your knees as you struggle to get a full breath.
“Shit, that looked like it hurt, minxy,” Bucky’s voice grates in your ringing ears, “I wish I could say it’s the worst you’re gonna deal with but… I’m anything but a liar.”
You scoff and spit on the pavement, the towers of the compound looming in your peripherals as the iron gate grinds shut noisily behind the consul. You narrow your eyes on him as he comes into focus. You have no illusions about what comes next. You’ve seen the bodies hung from the walls, the heads planted on spikes along the main ways.
“Fucker,” you cough.
You’re flung back again as his tread hits your chest. You groan as you land on your hands, crushing your fingers painfully. You sneer and hiss through your teeth. Cardinal was lucky, a quick end. No interrogation, no humiliation.
This was always a possibility. Always the likely end. Still, the doom swallows you up and drains you of your will. You have to move forward, keep moving until it’s over. Don’t let them see your fear.
Bucky bends over you, staring you in the face as he grabs your chin with his large hands, the leather glove cold against your skin. He makes you look at him, the silver hairs along his beard catching the grey morning light as the dimples in his cheeks deepen with amusement. He smirks and gives your face a tap.
“I like you already,” he says, “you got that quiet sort of fuck you energy.”
He latches onto the front of your jacket and pulls you up with him, putting you on your feet with a startling force. You wobble as he steadies you. His hands linger and he jerks you closer.
“You’re gonna be a fun one, I feel it,” he dusts off your shoulders, “I mean, I’ve been through the ringer a few times but they’re usually bawling by now. Or snarling and snapping like a rabid dog.”
You watch him, fighting to keep your composure. You hover between those two extremes, ready to fracture but the fear only seems to numb you. In that odd way where you’re watching yourself from the outside. 
“I like to get them going, you know, ease you into the nasty bit, but for a gal like you, well, we need to make a grand entrance,” he lets his eyes wander down, “it’s too bad, Lynx, you could’ve had a good life on the right side. Champagne and chiffon, instead of…” he pauses and rubs your dirty collar between his fingers, “swamp water and wool. Ugh.”
“I wouldn’t waste your time,” you rasp, “put me on the wall.”
“Shhhhh,” he pushes his finger to your lips, “don’t ruin the moment, minxy.”
He slides his finger down your chin and tilts your head up. He turns you, taking in your features as he gives a thoughtful hum.
“You got nice teeth, I won’t start with those, how about that?” He pets your cheek, “I like a pretty face around. And those eyes, eyes made for tears. Oh, I can see them now, gleaming for me.”
You curl your lip and he tuts as he retracts his hand. He lifts it before you, pulling off his glove inch by inch. He reveals the dark metal digits and stretches them wide. He turns his hand, showing it off.
“What do you ya think? Hm? You feelin’ talkative yet?” He taunts. “I think it could wipe that shitty fucking look off your face.” He presses his palm to your cheek and you lean away from it, “a girl like you should smile. Come on and give me a smile there, minxy.”
You seal your lip and bite down. His eyes search yours and he sighs. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. He drops his hand as the humor disappears from his face.
“Here’s your first lesson,” his voice grits in his throat, “I don’t fucking ask for nothing. I say it, and it happens.”
The impact of his metal hand across your jaw sends you stumbling. You fall onto your ass, barely keeping your head from meeting the tarmac. Your eyes nearly roll back from the sheer force and your skull thrums as your vision blurs.
He’s on you quickly, bending over you as he frames your skull in his hands, his breath warm as it fans over your trembling lip, “smile, minxy…” he purrs, “I know it’s been a while but you remember manners, don’t you?”
You taste iron and lick your bloody teeth, swallowing the mouthful of metallic spit. You clear your throat and slowly curve your lips, the split in the lower one leaking hotly. Your cheeks twitch as you fight to hold the manufactured expression.
“Good girl,” he lifts you to your feet again and claps your shoulder, “you can’t meet my friends with a scowl. They aren’t as tolerant as me.”
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oneprompt · 3 years
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hi… your writing is absolutely amazing <33 can you do a sanji x reader WHERE HES JUST RLLY SUBMISSIVE TO YOU ?? or one where he’s dominant because I don’t see dom sanji a lot.. but I’m a slut for submissive sanji so like ‼️ it’s embarrassing to say but can this be nsfw? the scenario could be where sanji asks you to be dominant in the bedroom, and like when you start to degrade him HE REALLY LIKES IT SO YOU KEEP DOINF IT AND ]\]+|¥ okay am I explaining this well?? This is my first time submitting a request I’m so sorry if this makes no sense . basically just a sanji x reader where sanji enjoys being degraded <3 if you can of course! 🧡
authors note : thank you so much , im flattered to hear such a kind thing directed at me ! <3 and this request ? i adore your brain , sanji is . most definitely a sub ! i did hc + a drabble like i always do <3 hope these are enough
NSFW / SMUT WARNING
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tags : degrading , femdom , sub / dom , ( verbal ) masochism , ( alight ) master kink
Sub! Sanji x Dom! Reader Headcanons
• You were a bit surprised from the sudden change of pace from Sanji. You both have a rather fluid routine when it came to sex , neither of you ever being a strict sub or dom. And with the mention of things such as verbal degrading and humiliation... you couldn’t help but be taken aback. Not in a bad way, of course! You were more then open to spice things up with your lover.
• You couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious as you stepped into your shared room, dark blue lace masking your most feminine areas, a garter holding up the matching stockings. You had picked out the lingerie to match the blue that Sanji often wore. Needless to say, his reaction to your body is instant. But who can blame him, truly? Seeing a woman in such scandalous clothing, you’re bound to grow antsy.
• You two are immediately on each other, kissing and touching one another. The more foreplay and light touches Sanji gave you, the more excited you got, the fabric of your brand new panties already grow wet. Sanji seemed so desperate, so needy..
• You found yourself shocked by your own words, the heat of the moment carrying your words better then your own brain. “You’re such a pervert... already getting so hard for me. What type of freak rubs his dick on a girls new clothes?” Your own jaw dropped at your words. Would Sanji be upset over you saying that? Would he have taken it to heart?
• To your relief, you were met with the view of Sanji’s face turning a pure shade of scarlet, his eyes half lidded. He had such a cute smirk on his face, he looked so shy, despite the large erection that peeked up from his boxers. He couldn’t help but fawn over your attitude, encouraging to take your insults even further.
• And so you did. Sure, you still felt a bit guilty for being so cruel to him but you couldn’t deny how worked up it was getting you, nor how pleasing it was for your boyfriend. Sanji showed the most pleasure as you yanked on his tie, ordering him around and calling him tons of names.
• When you two get to the main course, Sanji had already been made a mess by the grinding of your hips and words alone. So, once you prop yourself up ontop of him and let your flooding hole hold his member captive, he turns into pure putty. It’s cute. So very cute.
• The way Sanji pleads and begs for you, moaning and mewling as he repeated your name over and over again. He was a mess, he looked like a true man whore beneath you. You make sure to still degrade him and occasionally yank at his blonde locks while making him pleasure you with his sweet dick.
• Sanji is quick to cum ( not without begging first , though ), letting out a high pitched whine and moan as he came inside of you, even getting a bit on you as he pulled out afterward, leaving your thighs and labia a cum drizzled scape.
Sub! Sanji x Dom! Reader Oneshot
The cries Sanji let out under you was like nothing you had ever heard. Sanji was a very prideful man, at least in the presence of others. Right now, he was nothing but a mask of what he is for the public. He’s not Black Legged Sanji right now, right now he’s your slut.
“Y-Y/n-san..~..Please give me more..” Sanji whimpered out in pleasure, holding himself back from throwing his hips upward, making your hungry hole eat his shaft. You were moving so painfully slow... “Please..faster...”
Your hands stayed planted firmly on his chest, your nails carefully digging themselves into his collarbone. “I’ll move when i want to. Mutts don’t get to tell master what to do..” You sighed out in pleasure, feeling your insides hug Sanji’s girth. You smiled at the sight of Sanji’s face glowing a darker shade of red from your words. He was adorable.
“I’ll beg...please, just go faster,” Sanji said, looking up at you, his gaze pleading. He looked so desperate, he was making an expression you had never seen him make before. You couldn’t help but grow more aroused at the sight of such a rare face.
“Okay, beg, then..” You smirked softly, leaning down and kissing Sanji’s cheek. You patiently waited for Sanji to speak up.
“Y/n-san... please use me up. I’m all yours...no other woman will ever hold my heart captive the way you do,” It was odd. Even when engulfed by pleasure, Sanji still managed to be his poetic and romantic self, didnt he?
With those magic words, your hips snapped downward, taking Sanji balls deep inside of you, the tip of his member staying jammed against the depth of your cervix. You couldn’t hold back as you moaned lustfully, tilting your head back in pleasure. The large frame of the bed began to creek as you eagerly rode the chef, your hips bouncing along with your supple breasts. It felt far too good. Being in a position like this with the role you had in this very moment was more then enough to make you orgasm at any moment.
Sanji couldn’t keep his mouth shut, gentle gasps puffing out of his lips, a line of drool dripping down along the corner of his mouth. Why hadn’t Sanji asked you to do this any sooner? It felt amazing, certainly the best sex the two of you have had.
“Y/n, don’t stop...degrade me, please~,” Sanji moaned out, the pleasure in his voice dragging the letters with it. His eyes were shut as he huffed and puffed, trying to stabilize the rapid mewls that flew out of him.
“Don’t order me around.. you aren’t in the position to do that, unless you want to be punished,” You said shakily, voice trembling from the amount of pleasure that dived in and out of your body.
Punished? Oh, now that was a thought Sanji liked. If just verbal torture felt so good, how good would it be to have you be more hands on with it? The thought of you as a domantrix made him more excited. A dark corset looping itself along your waist, paired with matching gloves. And all sorts of lewd tools on your side to make Sanji scream. It sounds like heaven to him.
“Punish me, Y/n-san! Please..be mean,” Sanji begged, grovelling under your body. And so, that’s what you did. You didn’t hesitate to lift your hips off of Sanji’s erection, the tip a deep red as it looked about ready to burst with the amount of cum he had been holding back.
A pout snuck its way into Sanji’s face as his girthy dick twitched in disappointment. This isn’t the punishment he wanted..
“Why’re you pouting? I said i’d be mean,” You smirked slightly, now located in between your lovers legs.
“I didn’t think-,” Sanji’s breath hitched as you squeezed his throbbing dick in between your breasts, the coating of your own wetness and Sanji’s precum already having it lubed further enough.
Sanji stuttered as you began to move your breasts, letting them bounce against his shaft, making up a pleasurable friction against the sensitive appendage. It felt so good, something as minor as this was enough to have Sanji trembling and begging.
He looked down at you with his beautiful pearly blues, tears of overstimulation brimming his eyes. This was beginning to be far too much for him, holding his ejaculation back was impossible at this point, and Sanji made that very apparent. Without a single word from him you let out the magic words, still letting him thrust into your breasts.
“You may cum, Sanji-kun.” You smiles lovingly at the blonde, awaiting his seed to paint your face. Sanji has been waiting all night for you to say those words, that single chain.
In an instant, thick ropes of Sanji’s semen spouted out from his dick, hitting the warmth of your cheeks and making your entire face sticky. Thankfully for you, it only got upon your face, and not your hair.
Sanji looked absolutely blissed out, letting his head hit the pillows as he was laid out entirely. The small breaths that escaped him made you giggle quietly. He was so incredibly cute.
You feel as if you and Sanji learnt a bit more about each other today, and understood your own selves a lot better.
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alkalinefrog · 4 years
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may I request your top 10 favorie lawlight fics ?? I’m really interested
AIGHT BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUP because I’ve got a lot of feelings about these! Also, people have been asking me for fics featuring:
Ryuk shenanigans
yagami sibling hijinks
whammy kids found family
----- from my bingo card I made a while back. Tbh, I put those on the list to try and manifest the energy into the universe hoping people would bring fics to ME about them lmao. I do have a couple that check the boxes though! 
Also thank you to everyone who’s been recommending me fics!! You’ve all hit the nail on the head and sing straight to my heart! I’m just slow to make my way through them between work. <3
GOING UNDER THE CUT (rip mobile users)
Aight here we go, in no particular order:
“Change OR the one where L and Light get married” by @translightyagami (I’m so sorry I keep tagging you in these alsfjkalsfdj)
The one I never shut up about and am adapting part of into a comic because it’s just that GOOD. :’’’D Light and L get married in front of Watari and Light’s family back at the Whammy orphanage in England. A melancholy yet painfully sweet tale as Light and L reminisce on their history together while getting ready for the ceremony, and their first night together afterwards. Single-handedly sold me on Kira being intrinsically part of Light to boot.
“the forest holds strange creatures” by @translightyagami (I’m sorryyyyyyy I just love your stuff)
An AU where Light’s a paranormal researcher and L’s a reclusive cryptid living in the forest next to a small town. The writing has a fairytale feel to it, and the romance is so gentle. Light’s bunking at Whammy’s small little house, and Near and Mello are there as little kids pestering Light. It’s ADORABLE. Beyond Birthday also shows up in one of the extra chapters as a creepy cashier at a thrift shop for double the fun!
"Sickness” by BlueberryValentine (more fics on their fanfiction.net account!)
The ultimate hurt/comfort + fluff + angst with a happy ending fic. The first fic I read to get back into lawlight a couple months back! Canon divergence starting during the Yotsuba arc. Light is diagnosed with terminal brain cancer while still under investigation. L has to take care of him, and somewhere along the way they fall in love. It carved out a chunk of my heart but luckily filled it back up with a sweet sort of aching.
“Seeking His Hand” by magic__mind
Historical regency AU! L is a rich nobleman courting Light, a humble farm boy, for his hand in marriage. One of the most romantic pieces of literature that I have ever come across. The prose is pure poetry, and their love so pure! This one also has a special place in my heart for its portrayal of Misa! She’s A)a spy who helps L on his cases, B)totally removed from her co-dependence for Light, C)the  bubbly badass she was always meant to be. 100/10 worth the read!
The “Resurrections” Series by Shadow_of_Quill
A modern Orpheus and Euridice story, wherein Light’s spirit leads L back from Hades while he’s still Kira. L is thereby present for the confrontation at the warehouse. Believing that any trace of Light is lost in the man, he executes him right then and there. However, this was a grave mistake, and Light’s soul won’t be as easily revived. (spoilers, they’re both fine in the end) ******* THIS ONE ALSO INCLUDES YAGAMI SIBLING HIJINKS. Sayu plays a HUGE role in bringing Light back!
“Is This The Way It Ends Now?” by Seastar98
The one that checks off ALL the above three boxes!! A “characters watch their own show” fic, wherein the gang receives a mysterious DVD in the middle of the Yotsuba arc. Horrified by what’s to come, Light and L work to make sure their future is brighter than the one they witness. They bring in all three heirs to watch with ‘em, everyone gets character development, and Sayu comes in like black panther in endgame yet again to bring Light back from the darkness! Ryuk pops up in the end and the epilogue and he’s great. The ultimate and most direct fix-it you’re ever gonna get.
“From the Same Star” by Nilahxapiel
This is my only pure “Ryuk Shenanigans” fic, and it’s really really sad :’’’D A short but sweet one-shot wherein Ryuk traverses multiple dimensions, dropping the Death Note at Light’s feet each time. Light and L were always fated to clash, and it’s just as heartbreaking every time. 
“Primitive Liars” by Nilahxapiel
This one’s super popular in the fandom for a reason! The only omegaverse fic that I’ve liked! The A/B/O dynamics and their affect on society are super well developed, and the writer manages to keep L and Light very in character while still developing their budding romance in a believable way. This is an AU where somebody else is Kira, and Light’s genuinely helping L and the task force hunt him down. ***** Naomi Misora lives, the heirs come in, and Sayu actually hops aboard the task force!!! DUDE. BRILLIANT. I also just love the exploration of gender and identity that the author weaves in. Lots of LGBTQ rep!
“and indeed there will be time” by lawlietismyfavorite
The ultimate soulmate AU. People grow to be 18, then stop aging until they meet their one. L is the greatest detective of not only this century, but of six centuries. And then there's Light. (taken straight from the description!) The prose is absolutely breathtaking; like walking through a dream. Can not recommend this fic enough! It’s got my head up in the clouds and looking towards the stars!
“K” by  Dlvvanzor
AU where Light’s a Whammy with the moniker ‘K.’ He and L grow up together along with kiddos covering the rest of the alphabet. A murder-mystery-thriller on top of the romance featuring Beyond Birthday as a main character! Light’s a pathological liar and L’s super into it. They’re the top students at Whammy’s and are tasked with solving a string of homicides happening RIGHT AT THE ORPHANAGE (guess who dunnit). It had me on the edge of my seat, and I binged the whole thing in two days.
i’mMMMM doing more than 10, this’ll just be my ultimate fic rec post 😂
“Change of Circumstances” by wordbombs
Another AU where Light’s a whammy! It’s just a one-shot though, but one of my all time faves!!! I’ve gone back and reread it so many times and drew some stuff for it a couple weeks back. Much more light-hearted than “K”, Light arrives at the orphanage at age four and meets an eleven year old L, and from there they grow up together and fall in love (the age difference is handled really well, L’s not physically present for a lot of Light’s childhood and they bond on a platonic level first). It’s one of the healthiest relationship dynamics that I’ve seen for these two, which is honestly such a breath of fresh air. Matt, Mello, and Near are there too in the background!
“Dial K for Kira” by @kiranatrix
“Light needs some easy money to finance his Kira plans, and notices there’s a big demand for Kira roleplay phone sex. So he figures, “Why not? Pretty sure I’ll be convincing.”He raises some fast cash and plans to shut the whole thing down and get back to writing names, until he gets a request from somebody who wants to “roleplay” as L....“
Taken straight from the description! It’s very VERY NSFW so be warned. I’m too shy to talk about it more alskfjdasldjf sorry BUT IT’S GREAT.
“Dance with Me” and “Birthday Note” by @dotti55fanfiction
These are both one-shots so I’m putting ‘em together! Absolutely adorable tooth-rotting fluff!! “Dance with Me” has Light and L going to a club, while “Birthday Note” features L trying to think of the best present for Light. The dictionary definition of “warm fuzzies.” (Dotti ilu, I still gotta find time to read your longer works)
“you’re a wasp nest” by  raisuki (inthegripofahurricane)
Blind!Light AU! Light and L are both college students who meet when Sayu dares L to break into her house. Yagami sibling hijinksssss! Their quippy dialogue is adorable and it’s just a fun time watching them flirt.
“softly now” by smallestbird (jenwryn)
THANK YOU TO THE ANON WHO SENT ME THIS REC. The softest lawlight one-shot to finish off this list! Light and L share an intimate moment while painting their new apartment. The absolute JOY this fic radiates in a short 700 words!! Read it before bed for the sweetest dreams!
These are just my favourites, but read anything by any of these authors and you will not be disappointed! I might make a separate post later for soulmate AUs because... There’s just too many. :’D
-Alka
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fanfiction-funtime · 3 years
Text
Self insert oc: Alexander Vodka
AKA: Eis Cay'zar
Author of fate
A writer from Schneznaya who was driven from his home for his anti-Tsaritsa paper.
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Physical description:
A chubby fellow in a 1950's style noir trenchcoat and hat, some would even say he looks like he jumped right out of a noir comic book and into reality. He has brown hair and green eyes, a cowboy mustache, and a pointed beard like some kind of comic book supervillain genius.
He often acts confidently and even a bit egotistical when in places he's recognized and famous in, however in newer places he often seems distant and shys away from almost all contact.
Noone knows where his vision is, but they know he has one because of the cold aura that surrounds him.
At night he'll often trade his outfit for one more reminiscent of demons or vampires.
_____________________
Abilities:
Weapon type: Catalyst
Basic attack-truth: uses his catalyst to shoot a short burst of up to 3 ice shards, can attack in fast succession.
"Truth hurts, especially in bursts"
Charged attack-Bifrost: Alexander quickly makes an ice clone behind the enemy and fires 6 shots, this can increase to 3 clones if charged enough(times: 1 for 1 second, 2 for 2 seconds, and 3 for 2.5 seconds)
"I hate crowds, best company has always been myself"
Elemental ability-ice wall: creates an aura of sheer cold around himself that will damage enemies the more they stay in it, and apply the normal sheer cold to them. Does not affect party.
"My therapist said I put up walls because of trauma, but I couldn't hear them through the wall I had just built"
Elemental burst-a story to be told: Alexander takes out his book and opens to a random page, then randomly summons ice sculptures of one of 8 beings:
"Aster": this summon looks like the flatwoods monster, it surrounds the party in a swirl of ice blades that deal 2X damage as the character for 10 seconds.
"Who needs brawn, when you got brain"
"Ultimate foe": a demonic, pointy being of shadow. Will independently deal 25000 damage to three random foes.
"Meet my penultimate friend"
"Beethoven": a sculpture reminiscent of a ww1 zombie general, calls down a barrage of ice bombs that deal 5000 damage to enemies hit for 7 seconds.
"Good scifi doesn't predict, it prevents"
"Sorrows Joy": an angelic, faceless, robot like humanoid that spawns 25 angel shaped traps that freeze enemies around the character.
"With any luck, you're the only real one I've made"
"Death rider and the magic prince": two statues, one of a mummy like Schneznayan mystic of ancient barbarian times and the other an elven cavalry knight from the myths of mondstadt. The knight gives the party a 45% boost to speed and attack while moving, and the Schneznayan gives +10% damage bonus to elemental skills and +55% damage bonus to Catalyst.
"Feel the wrath of honor long passed"
"Zero point and Lion queen": a knightly man of spiked armor and a golden ottoman warrior woman whose golden chain completely obscures her head. Your enemies become inflicted with pyro and you are surrounded by thorn bushes that deal continuous damage of 1000 for 10 seconds.
"Walk down the way on a moonlit day"
The traveler: a child in a red straight jacket, his binds become undone after 4 seconds at which point all enemies take 10,000 X Alexander's level of damage.
"I uh,wont have to pay any copyrights will I?"
"Giota": a child in pyjamas who looks ready to sleep, this summon is very rare. It fully restores all party members and gives a 200% boost to both defense and damage of your characters.
"This fella's been with me since I was a kid"
"If it is a soldier's duty to escape the confines of a prison, is it not every person's duty to escape reality if even for a moment? A wise man said that, pray that I may one day be like him."
Passive-part the wasteland: Alexander is immune to sheer elements, and Grant's 50% resistance when in the party to all members.
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Story
Abandoning a dream
As a kid, Alexander was always put down when he said he wanted to write fiction, "there's no money in it" they all said.
He couldn't get into any art schools without support so he focused his mind elsewhere, a place he could hopefully use his writing to do just as much good: the first newspaper in Schneznaya.
Horrible truth
He didn't start as a trouble maker, but the more he sought out the truth the more he couldn't stand back and watch. He published numerous papers about the Tsarista's wrongdoings and the crimes of the fatui, how they would harass merchants in other nations, the unfair taxes many shipping businesses had to keep quiet about, all the way up to the war crimes the Tsarista had done in direct contradiction to her own laws.
Sadly, not many believed him even with evidence, but some got his message.
Those who fight
One day Alexander was approached by a man who claimed to have formed a resistance against the fatui. Alexander had inspired many people to disrupt the organization, and have even begun working with those outside Schneznaya.
With their help he didn't just publish some crimes, he published them all, he even got information that turned the general public against the fatui even if just a little.
In a way h had achieved his dream of helping others with his writing, even if it wasn't how he wanted.
Stop the presses
When the Tsarista started her big move of taking gnosis, she brought the hammer down on dissent like a boulder on a ten year old's wrist. One day a squad of thirty fatui stormed Alexander's home and business to silence him, and while they shut down his business they couldn't catch him.
Alexander fled into the wastelands of ice and snow and wasn't seen for several weeks.
Deus ex Vodka
One day Alexander showed up in Inazuma, a nation that had been oppressed for some time now and had recently reached it's height, yet no resistance had formed.
That was until Alexander came along.
Alexander published numerous books, spreading them throughout Inazuma. All of them spoke of freedom, of bravery, of rising up to achieve your ambitions.
And with those stories he inspired countless to take up arms, and in turn inspired countless to join the resistance.
And with mere fiction he had brought about hope,
And with mere fiction he shall do it again, in every form, and in every nation.
Vision: cold hearted
While wondering the waste Alexander fell down and looked to the skies.
He did not ask celestia why, he did not grieve or blame that he did not do more, instead Alexander did something he hadn't done in a long time:
He imagined.
And after he imagined he took out his notebook and wrote. In the freezing cold for seventeen days he wrote stories of hope and freedom.
For seventeen days the cold did not so much as cause him to flinch as he wrote tales of bravery.
For seventeen days Alexander Vodka lived how he wanted to live.
And at the end, he lied down to die.
Then a light shown, and when he opened his eyes to look he saw that the storm parted around him, and in his hand was an ice blue gem.
But Alexander was too paranoid from years of abuse from his peers as a child to wear it loosely, and far to extra to just get a lock. So instead Alexander shouted to celestia "if I shall have this Vision for my art, then it shall not kill me no matter what I do!"
He then shoved the vision into his heart and fell down.
Before he could bleed out however, a woman appeared.
"Hey Tsari, how ya doin." Alexander said as blood poured out his mouth.
"You dramatic fool," the Tsarista sighed as she put a hand on his chest, "you have my element, do you know how bad it'll look for me if you die by shoving your vision into your heart?"
"Why do you care? We hate eachother, in case you forgot."
The archon sighed, "you're just rebelling against what you see as unjust, just as I am. To be honest I feel a sort of rivalry with you, so it'd be a shame if you just died. Also," she painfully shoved the vision all the way in, painfully, "if your going to die it better be because of me, got it?"
Then Alexander sat up, and the god was gone. Along with the hole in his chest.
"Rival of a god eh?" He sat up, putting his gat back on his head, "I like the sound of that."
_____________________
How is this an insert?
Well his story can't be the exact same as mine, so I took my life and goals and made predictions, then fictionalized those predictions and expanded.
His appearance is pretty close to how I'll likely look based on my current appearance, and his dramatic attitude is exactly how I wanna act.
Him being shy in new places with strangers is me exactly as I am now really, however I do believe I'd act confidently if I were famous so he does as well.
Him being Catalyst is because I'm not athletic at all, and I figured a dps Catalyst would be cool. His main ability and resistance/immunity to sheer cold is based on how I wrap up in warm blankets when it's cold, and his ultimate is made up of characters I've made.
_____________________
Tagging: @genshin-obsessed, @golden-wingseos, @storytravelled, and @love-psxlm
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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years
Text
Sink Or Swim
tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @sassy-sara @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85
~^~
Monday, 12:52
Song: Haux - Touch
Jens is distracted. He’s been distracted, all throughout lunch, and he’s simply hoping the others haven’t noticed.
The problem, the very simple problem, is that Lucas is simultaneously much too close and much too far. He’s sitting, of course, right next to Jens. Closer than they would have, before, thighs pressed together, elbows and shoulders bumping when they move. Every brush and slide and nudge sets his skin on fire, while Lucas remains as cool as ever, barely reacting under Jens’s pleading gaze other than to bite down a smile. He isn’t sure how the boys haven’t noticed. Robbe is giving him a few strange looks, here and there, but he’s sure that’s because his other leg, the one not pressed to Lucas’s, is bouncing under the table irritatingly enough to knock into Robbe’s on occasion, and it would be impossible for his friend not to notice his jitters. He’s just glad it’s Robbe, who at least won’t ask in front of the others, leaving Jens with the surety that he’s still safe for now.
He won’t be, for long, if Lucas keeps going on the way he is. He’s not even doing anything particularly special—he just knows what he’s doing to Jens while simultaneously refusing to do anything about it.
It’s driving him crazy. Every dance of Lucas’s fingertips over his wrist, the back of his hand. Every hushed laugh, bitten-down smile, that draw attention to his lips, makes him crazy.
It’s been bad enough, over the past few days, trying to figure himself out. He thinks it’s pretty clear by now. He’d even managed to say it out loud, to Lucas, kind of. That he’s bisexual. At least, he thinks he is.
He hasn’t liked thinking about it much.
There’s a difference, in thinking about that, whether he’s attracted to boys and what that means in regards to his sexuality, and in thinking about Lucas. He loves thinking about Lucas. He can (does) spend the whole day thinking about Lucas.
There’s a difference, too, in thinking about Lucas in the safe confines of his bedroom or in Lucas’s own presence, and in thinking about Lucas at school, surrounded by his best friends. There’s a difference in thinking about Lucas when he has nothing else to do and when he really shouldn’t be.
It’s impossible to stop. Lucas is too close, Jens’s thoughts already too full, his desire already too strong. He needs to get it out of his system, somehow. He at least needs to get Lucas to notice.
This is all that motivates him to let his hand drop onto his leg under the table, only to slowly slip over and settle on Lucas’s thigh.
The reaction is instant. Lucas stiffens up next to him, spine straightening. He manages to control his outward reaction beyond that, however. He doesn’t shift away, and he checks to make sure the others aren’t looking before glancing at Jens sharply, brows raised in question. Jens merely squeezes his thigh in response. The gesture is questioning, urging, but also casual. A gentle reassurance, an intimate reminder. They haven’t actually gotten a chance to be alone together, yet. They’ve been texting all weekend, and they’d been texting this morning, but Jens hasn’t gotten a chance to kiss him since Saturday. It’s frustrating, but also worrying. Jens had felt the deep-rooted fear in his chest when he’d first seen Lucas this morning, and while it had mostly dissipated at the other’s shy smile, it lingers.
He can’t be sure if Lucas feels it too, but he feels the need to offer this all the same. To remind Lucas that even though they can’t act on it right now, it hasn’t disappeared.
It’s also a silent plead to disappear somewhere with him so that they may act on it. Just for a moment.
Lucas answers by resting his hand on top of Jens’s and twining their fingers.
“Hey, Jens, what do you think?” Aaron drags him out of it, leaving Jens snapping his gaze over to him with a questioning hum. “Moyo and Noor.”
“Dude, seriously,” Moyo complains, with a pointed glance at Robbe that Jens doesn’t quite buy.
Robbe doesn’t seem to, either. “Hey, don’t look at me. I’m sure she’d be happier with what you can give her than what I did.”
Jens waggles his brows. “I’m sure that’s very true. Why, are you interested in Noor?”
Moyo looks between them for a moment before dropping his gaze down to where he picks at his lunch, shrugging.
“Noor’s actually really cool,” Lucas offers. “From what I could tell, at least. It’s even nice that you get along well. I’m sure she appreciates being more involved in the group still.”
That brings a faint smile to Moyo’s lips, and he nods approvingly—gratefully—and Jens marvels at the switch, at how easily Lucas had made it. “Exactly,” Moyo agrees. “And she’s actually really into dance, she was talking about hooking us up with a few more showcases, if any of you are interested. It’s a mixed performance next, I think.”
“Am I ever going to actually see you dance? When you’re not half-drunk at a party, I mean.” Lucas asks, tilting his head curiously, and Moyo presses his hands to the table and sits up straight, pointing at him.
“Free show after school, just for you baby,” Moyo says, blowing an exaggerated kiss, which Lucas ‘catches’ and smacks to his chest, leaving the other’s laughing. It’s enough to shift the conversation on, Robbe casually asking what their actual plans are after school and Aaron seeming to forget his previous agenda. Jens doesn’t miss the small, grateful smile Moyo shoots Lucas, however, or the easy one Lucas grants back.
Jens grips his thigh tighter and begs him to get the point.
Lucas runs his thumb over his knuckles, and the touch fails to soothe Jens in the slightest. He needs more. He needs to be somewhere else, somewhere the others won’t see, where Robbe can’t simply look over and see their entwined hands. If he can’t be given that, then he needs to be put out of his misery.
He’s relieved when Lucas suddenly—but casually—stands, collecting his things and beginning to shove them into his bag. Aaron is the one to look at him and ask where he’s going, and Lucas has an explanation ready.
“Bathroom.”
“And you’re not coming back?” Moyo raises a brow.
“No, I have a quiz next and I want to go ask him a few questions first. I can’t fail it, I’m already on a curfew, remember?” He raises his brows right back, and Jens is very, very attracted to him.
It works, making the boys snicker and Robbe wish him good luck, before he’s off with a lingering glance at Jens. Jens can’t get up right away, he knows that, no matter how much he wants to. That would be too obvious. He’s already wracking his brain for an excuse, trying to find something believable and unquestionable—something that won’t come back to bite him.
He scrolls mindlessly back and forth on his phone to kill a little time, even as his leg resumes its bouncing and Robbe gives him another look. The others talk quietly amongst themselves, Moyo still picking at his lunch and Robbe letting out the occasional giggle, having been brighter again this past week.
Jens gives them five minutes before raising a hand to his head with an exasperated groan. “Fuck, I gotta go too.”
“What?” Robbe turns to him, brows furrowed. “What for?”
“I forgot my dad wants me to talk to Beckers about extra credit.”
Moyo squints at him. “Can you even get extra credit in math?”
“Fuck if I know, man, I’m just trying to keep the peace,” Jens shrugs, already climbing to his feet. This could be easily brushed off later, because the boys would never ask Beckers or his dad, meaning there was no one to refute him. The boys accept it with a few disappointed shrugs and nods and Jens give them a quick wave before turning towards the school, in the direction Lucas had gone.
Then he realises he has no idea where Lucas actually went.
He curses as he walks through the main hallway, heading in the general direction of the bathrooms as he slips his phone back out of his pocket. He pulls up Lucas’s contact, beginning to write a short message when he’s pulled suddenly into an empty classroom.
Well, empty but for Lucas.
Jens grins and quickly shuts the door behind him, barely letting it click closed before he’s grabbing Lucas and guiding him into a kiss. Lucas lets out a small noise of surprise and Jens’s grin merely widens, his hands moving to the back of Lucas’s neck and attempting to pull him closer.
Lucas laughs against his lips, but it doesn’t sound right. There are too many nerves in it, and he leans away from Jens and presses a hand to his chest to keep him in place. “Woah, what if someone sees us?”
Jens looks back at the tiny window in the door, and the rest of the solid wall, and then back at Lucas with a raised brow. “How? Through the peephole?”
“Anyone could come in,” Lucas points out.
Jens slides his hands down Lucas’s arms and eventually settles them on his waist, shrugging. “But they probably won’t.”
“Probably?”
Jens hums. “Most people don’t want to spend the last half hour of their lunch break in a classroom. Unless you were expecting someone else…” Jens raises a brow.
Lucas rolls his eyes, but he twines his arms around Jens’s neck, so Jens thinks they’re probably moving in the right direction. “I just don’t know if a classroom is the best place.”
“You were the one that dragged me in here,” Jens points out.
“Yeah, but I thought you might...know somewhere more private, or something.”
“Oh? What did you have planned?” Jens teases.
It has the magical effect of making Lucas blush and roll his eyes, but he still seems uncharacteristically shy.
Jens leans in to brush their noses together softly, only smiling when Lucas does. “Sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have just kissed you. We don’t have to do anything here. We don’t have to do anything anytime you don’t want to.”
Before Jens can begin to worry that that’s never, Lucas is smiling and squeezing the back of his neck and drawing him into another quick kiss. Too quick. “I can see you freaking out in there. I hope you aren’t thinking something stupid, like I don’t want to kiss you twenty-four-seven, given the option.”
“Wow, you’ve got it so bad,” Jens murmurs, but his grin is pressed right up to Lucas’s, and Lucas’s huff of laughter gets lost in his mouth, and Jens isn’t dumb enough to think he’s any better.
“Are you really sure this is okay?” Lucas asks lowly, when Jens is pretty sure that he’s already made it clear that this is more than okay. By now, Lucas has hoisted himself up onto a desk and drawn Jens in to stand between his legs, and it feels a little late to be not-okay with how things are going.
Jens presses a kiss to his jaw, trailing his hands down his spine to the small of his back. “More than okay,” he promises. “Is it okay with you?”
“It doesn’t matter about me. I just don’t want anything to get to your friends before you tell them yourself.”
“It does matter about you,” Jens frowns.
“No one knows me anyway. It’s not the same thing.”
“Maybe it’s not the same, but it matters,” Jens says simply, bumping their foreheads. “If you’re uncomfortable, just tell me.”
Jens would understand, if that’s the case. He’s acting brave, but truthfully, it terrifies him too. The thought of someone seeing them, of anyone knowing, is just a little too much to think about yet. He isn’t quite ready. He hasn’t fully wrapped his head around it himself. The bitten rawness of Lucas’s lip suggests he’s struggling much the same.
The only thing making it simple for Jens is the clear knowledge that the idea of losing Lucas scares him more.
Lucas eventually shakes his head, and now the only thing he’s biting down is a smile as he leans in towards Jens again and Jens meets him gladly, heart easing. He’s getting ridiculously used to kissing Lucas, already. He supposes that’s due to the fact that, though their practice times have been continuously cut short, they are usually packed tight. He’s had more than enough time to adjust, really. He has spent even more time thinking about it.
“We can’t do this everyday, though,” Lucas points out, and it’s rather a mood-killer after he’d just had his tongue in Jens’s mouth. “That would make it very obvious very quickly.”
Jens blows out a breath. “I guess we’re going to have to find other ways, then.”
Lucas smiles. “What do you have in mind?”
Jens shrugs, feeling uncharacteristically shy. “Do you want to...go on a date? I mean is that—are you interested in that kind of thing?”
He is surprised when Lucas ducks his head and colour creeps back into his cheeks as he slowly lifts his shoulders towards his ears, then lowers them with an abrupt drop. “I’ve never been on a date before.”
Jens leans his head back to blink at him. “Seriously?”
Lucas’s smile is bashful. “What were you expecting? I told you, you’re the first guy I’ve been with. Are you really that surprised?”
“Just,” Jens shakes his head, amazed. “A guy like you, and no one has ever tried to woo you.”
Lucas snorts. “A guy like me?”
Jens hums, drawing him into another kiss, one that lasts much longer than initially intended. “Beautiful. Smart. Funny. Prince Charming.”
He’s rewarded with a scoff and then another kiss, this too with too much teeth, grins too wide to keep it clean. “Girls have tried,” Lucas admits. “At least, I think. But they’ve never succeeded.”
“For obvious reasons,” Jens raises a brow. “You know, this is just as confusing as you being the new student for a week and not having half the school fawning over you. You really didn’t meet any poor guy in that first week to steal a friendship out of?”
Lucas hums. “I did, actually. You might know him. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, pretty. One of those skater dorks. He does these vlogs, and he’s kinda dumb, but he’s extra pretty with makeup, so—“
Jens presses a hand over his mouth to cut him off, and Lucas laughs, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm. His eyes are sparkling. Jens spends much too long looking into them with a softening heart and a quickening pulse. He lets his hand slide away slowly and instantly replaces it with his lips, rejoicing at how easily and readily Lucas responds, curling his fingers into Jens’s hair and tilting his head for a better angle.
Jens knows they should talk more. That they probably have things to discuss in a lot more depth than they’ve bothered to so far. It’s just hard to think about talking with the small hums Lucas makes low in his throat and the heat pooling in Jens’s stomach. He could talk and listen to Lucas all day, but he already knows this. He has only recently discovered just how gladly he would kiss him all day, instead, and he feels safe enough for now in taking full advantage of it.
But it can’t truly last forever.
“We’re gonna have to go to class in five minutes,” he sighs, regretfully pulling back a few inches, leaving Lucas tugging at his hair with a tiny whine of protest. “And I need a few minutes before it’s gonna be suitable for me to walk out in public.”
Jens raises a brow, pointedly, and Lucas’s eyes widen, surprised, and then he starts laughing, low and throaty as he tucks his face into Jens’s neck.
“Dumbass,” he chastises. Then, after a moment, “Me too.”
Jens snorts and presses a kiss to his hair.
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astralaffairs · 4 years
Text
french vanilla 01 | gilbert lafayette
title: french vanilla 01
pairing: lafayette x reader
words: 5.7k; this is probably going to shake out to be a trilogy :)
warnings: abundant sexual innuendos, hand fetish lowkey, maria reynolds’s abs, hugh grant mentions, painfully thick sexual tension
desc: you can’t quite place it – maybe it’s his unchecked confidence, or maybe it’s just his arms – but there’s something about your new dance instructor that makes your palms sweat and your head spin – which is, unfortunately for you, not the best combination while suspended two yards above the floor.
tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudywlw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow  @siriusorionblackiii— lmk if you want to be added
You took a deep breath as you examined the door in front of you, the sign on it confirming that you were in the right place, despite the fact that you -- though you'd never admit it -- desperately hoped you weren't. You'd signed up for pole dancing classes on something of a dare, when you joking about it with your friends lead to you being challenged to really try it. And you never backed down from a challenge.
So there you stood, only feet from the door that determined the next two hours (and two hours every Tuesday and Thursday for the next six weeks) of your fate, ponytail tied tight at the back of your head, still just a bit sore from spending the past few weeks since you'd signed up trying to improve your upper body strength. (You'd quickly found out that you despised lifting, as well as that you were not in nearly good enough shape to continue doing it without every one of your joints aching for the following week.)
Your eyes darted to the clock that hung from the wall to your left, swallowing hard when you saw that if you didn't move soon, you'd be late. As much as you didn't particularly want to pole dance, you wanted even less to be late to pole dancing classes.
You reluctantly entered, less than thrilled to find the class both relatively small (you wouldn't be able to hide at the back just to tell your friends you'd gone) and filled mostly with fairly attractive women in their twenties and thirties. And just like that, you remembered why you preferred not to leave the house.
You dropped your gym bag off to the side near the door, bringing only your water bottle with you, and made your way toward the mass of people in the middle of the room, all stretching and chatting. All right, this wasn't so bad. You could work with chatty women.
"Hey." You approached one on the edge nearest to you, seemingly zeroed in on what she was doing, long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, only having donned leggings and a matching sports bra. "Mind if I sit?" She looked up at your hopeful, if not slightly anxious, smile, and her expression brightened.
"Of course!" Her reply came slightly breathlessly, seeming surprised at your presence, but welcoming nonetheless. She nodded her head toward the space next to her, scooting over just a few inches, but the gesture wasn't lost on you. You gave her a warm smile as you took a seat on the polished hardwood floor, reaching out to stretch one leg. "First time?"
You turned your head to her with wide eyes. Was it that obvious? "Oh! Um, yeah. I'm kind of here on a dare, so we'll see how this turns out," you said with a nervous laugh, "What gave it away?"
She just smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Might just take one to know one," she confessed, "I took a one-session beginners' class a few weeks ago with some friends, but I'm the only one who stuck around, so I think we're in the same boat right now."
You grinned at her. "Y'know what they say; two shipmates are better than one."
"Do they?"
You shared a slight laugh as you held your knee up toward your chest, extending your free hand toward her in greeting. "Y/N."
"Maria." She gladly took your hand, meeting your eyes with a friendly gaze, and you decided then and there that you liked Maria. Besides, you felt safer knowing that you had an ally going into this.
A loud clap and the shuffling of hands came from the front of the room, attracting all your attention. "Alright, ladies!" You lifted your head, breaking her gaze, to look curiously up at the source of the deep French accent, who was also presumably your instructor. Your eyes widened.
You'd been surprised enough that your instructor was a man. Registration had only given you a last name, and while you supposed the class hadn't specified that it was just for women, the lack of men attending the class made it feel strange that it was being taught by one. That wasn't the main source of your surprise, though. The man standing in front of you all as you sat up was, to be quite blunt, gorgeous. He had dark skin and a gorgeous smile, curls pulled back in an unruly bun, arms bulging through the sleeves of his less-than-loose t-shirt. If you'd been nervous before, it was nothing compared to how you felt then.
"It is good to see all of you eager and ready to get right into things. I am your instructor, Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch, Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, but I am not expecting any of you to remember all of zat, so please, call me Lafayette," he greeted you all warmly, and you thanked whatever god was up there that he was the instructor, letting out a soft sigh. Otherwise, you thought, your gaze drifting down to the outline of his abs, the staring would probably have weirded him out by now. Though, you realized only moments later that you still weren't quite safe of that as you looked back up to his face, only to find him watching you as he spoke, an eyebrow cocked. You swallowed hard. From that point, though, while he continued talking, his smile didn't revert back from the smirk it'd become.
"I 'ave been a trained pole dancer for nearly seven years now, and 'ave been giving classes for more than three, so I can assure you zat you are in good 'ands with me." You had no doubt about that as he folded his arms across his chest, and you eyed the bulging veins in his forearms, his large hands -- perhaps being attracted to his hands bordered on skeevy, but your moral compass wasn't at the forefront of your mind just then. You couldn't help but admire his physique. "I will be spending ze next several weeks with you building your skills up from ze fundamentals into full pieces of choreography, 'elping you every step of ze way. You will become skilled pole dancers in zis class, although 'ow you choose to use zat skill is entirely up to you."
He gave a playful grin at that, eliciting a laugh from most of the women in the class, though Maria and you shared a weary glance.
"But no matter your choice," he finished, "I look forward to getting to know and to work with each and every one of you." He met your eyes as he said that, and while you couldn't imagine the words could've been directed at you, the intensity of his gaze had you tugging your bottom lip in between your teeth.
You could be in for a long six weeks.
Beyond that, though, you quickly learned that pole dancing was not nearly as easy as you hoped it would be, nor as easy as Lafayette (and surprisingly, Maria, though you should've seen it coming based on the size of her arms and her very prominent abs) made it look.
"Back straight, Y/N," Lafayette commented as he passed you. He'd learned your name about fifteen minutes earlier and had since used it on every opportunity he'd had to visit your side of the room. "Keep your hips out; it will make it easier to 'old ze structure of ze position." You huffed, pushing your chest forward and your hips back, your arms shaking as you struggled to hold yourself up, let alone maintain proper form. "Perfect. Now loosen your grip a little bit; swing your legs slowly around ze pole."
"I'm gonna fall if I do," you whined breathlessly, focused on your own conquest to not bruise your tailbone too much to glance up and take notice of how he was watching you. He laughed.
"Just try it. Do not worry so much." While you scowled, trying to pull yourself up a bit so as to have more room to slide down as you tried to swing around the pole, you heard heavy footsteps approaching you from behind. "'ere. Let me 'elp you."
You inhaled sharply as you felt Lafayette rest his hands on your hips. You glanced back nervously over your shoulder, found his face only inches from yours, a small smile resting on his lips, and you gulped, turning back.
"Go ahead; I will not let you fall. You can trust me." While you could feel your heart rate increase in the close proximity, your face heating up, you let out a shaky breath and nodded. You could feel his warm breath dancing over the skin of your neck as you loosened your grip on the pole, sliding down a few uneven inches, and began swinging your legs off to the side, little by little.
"Careful, chérie," his voice came from behind you, hardly a breath over your shoulder as his grip tightened on your hips, pads of his fingers pressing ever so slightly into your skin. He pushed you slightly forward as you slowly went through the motions. "Ah! Back straight."
You could still hear his grin in his voice but could do little more than scowl in your struggle. You pursed your lips, arched your back, and the pressure from his fingertips began to ease as you reached a suspended sitting position next to the pole, using your momentum to swing yourself around.
"Bon travail, Y/N," he said softly, his lips only a breath from your ear as he pulled back. Your heart pounded, grip still shaking, though you weren't sure anymore that it was only from struggling to stay up.
He went back to wandering through the rows of women, shouting tips and encouragement over the music with a wide smile, and it took all of your willpower to not stare at his retreating form. You repeated the move a few times, making sure you could get it on your own, watched the ease with which Maria seemed to go through it. Eventually, your face stopped burning (you didn't like having to admit to yourself why it'd started), and you went on with the choreography, Lafayette demonstrating the next moves. Your eyes widened as you realized how little you had of the skill the rest of the dance needed.
"Now do not worry, everyone," he called out, as everyone sat on the floor in front of him, drinking some water and resting. "I know 'ow intimidating zis looks right now, but none of you are expected to get it on ze first try." His words did little to comfort you as you glanced around the room, knew most of these women would probably be able to pull it off better than you would.
"And if you cannot seem to get it after a while, remember: I am 'ere to be your teacher. You can always," --he caught your eye at those words, the corners of his lips quirking up in a mischievous smile-- "Always, ask for 'elp." He shot you a wink at the end of his sentence, and while most of the women had already begun chattering to those around them (you caught snippets about not minding him helping them out, if you knew what they meant), you couldn't break his gaze, a chill running down your spine.
You couldn't quite place it just yet -- maybe it was his unchecked confidence, the tempter integral to his person, or maybe it was just his arms -- but there was something about your new dance instructor that made your palms sweat and your head spin -- which was, unfortunately for you, not the ideal combination while trying not to fall on your ass, suspended two yards above the floor.
_______________
"You were looking pretty good today, Y/N." Maria winked at you as you packed up your bag. You'd known her for only about a week, now, but had grown quickly attached to her, enjoyed getting to know her. The pair of you had become fast friends. You'd expressed offhandedly your insecurity being in that class alone -- albeit a pole-dancing class -- and she'd subsequently taken it upon herself to tell you how great you were doing about twice a minute.
You rolled your eyes at her with a laugh, taking a drink of water. "Not so bad yourself, Lewis." You wiggled your eyebrows at her flirtatiously, and she scoffed.
"Don't lead me on like this," she teased, "I just might get the wrong idea."
You only grinned, tucking your water bottle into your bag along with the rest of your things. "And if I want you to?"
She laughed, shooting you a wink as she turned to leave. "If you're interested, L/N, you know how to find me," she sang as she walked over to the door, flashing a smile over her shoulder as she shut it behind her. You laughed to yourself as she left, fixing your ponytail before zipping your bag. The rapport was all playful, of course, neither of you expecting the other to take your words as being in earnest, but candidly, you were struggling to figure out whether you'd rather screw Maria or be her. Either way, she was undeniably adding excitement to your life.
As you tightened your ponytail, you swung your bag onto your shoulder, phone in hand as you checked the time. You walked up to the front of the room as everyone began to slowly filter out, needing to talk to Lafayette before you left about your plans for the next class, and feeling astoundingly anxious to do so.
You found him off to the side chatting with someone you didn't recognize, another woman from your class, and his eyes met yours as you neared him. His expression lit up, brows raising and smile broadening as his eyes met yours, and while he nodded along halfheartedly to what it was he was being told, for the time being, it took him about half a sentence after that to wave her off with an "au revoir" that left her giggling. (You couldn't judge her; you'd heard his accent, seen his blinding smile. You'd be no different in her position, and you very well knew it.)
"Y/N, what can I do for you?" he asked, folding his arms with an easy smile as you approached him. You returned the smile, pulling your bag higher up on your shoulder as you reached him.
"Hey, Lafayette," you breathed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I just wanted to talk to you about next class." He arched a brow. "So, I'm not going to be able to make it here this Thursday; I have a board meeting for my job in the evening. I was just thinking, since I know we're working on like a full piece of choreography and everything, is there any way I can keep up with it outside of class?"
He raised his eyebrows, considered you for a moment. "Are your Wednesday nights free?" You pursed your lips, shook your head, and he let out a hum of discontent. "Alright. Zere is a video and walkthrough I can send you of ze next part of ze choreography, so zat you can learn it on your own time. Would zat 'elp?"
You smiled. "Yeah, that'd be great. Is the video of the whole dance, or...?" You trailed off, the question left unsaid, and he nodded as he began to dig through the bag he had left near the front of the room, slinging it over his shoulder as he did so.
"Oui. I can tell you which part of it we will be learning zis Thursday, so zat you can just follow along." He finally emerged from the bag, holding his phone with an easy smile. "Can I 'ave your number, chérie?"
Your eyebrows shot up. What had he just asked? "I'm sorry?"
"Your number?" he repeated, slowly that time, his smile widening, "So zat I can send you ze choreography for Thursday?"
Your eyes widened at your own foolishness, and you let out an anxious breath. Heat was creeping up the back of your neck. "Oh! Right, yeah--"
"Now why did you think I was asking you, hm?" He cocked a challenging brow, seemingly enjoying your reaction. "Did you think I 'ad some ulterior motive? Zat would be entirely inappropriate, chérie." Despite his words, his expression, his teasing grin told you he was amused by the idea, if not intrigued by it. However, you were winded.
"You just caught me off guard," you said, breathless, and he let out a light laugh.
"Of course." He glanced back down at his phone and up at you with an expectant gaze, and your eyes widened. He was still waiting on your number.
"Oh! Right." You gave him the string of numbers as he made you a contact in his phone. Finally, he nodded, looking up at you with a small smile.
"Thank you," he said, eyes shining as he regarded you, though, now, his mischievous gaze had begun to turn wolfish. "I'll be texting you, chérie."
____________
As promised, Lafayette did send you the choreography; the videos were more helpful than you'd expected them to be, considering the only place you had to practice was the bar that divided your doorway in two. (How foolish you felt doing it was extraneous to your ultimate goal.) Thankfully, the next Tuesday passed without a hitch. As did the next Thursday. You were getting noticeably stronger, or otherwise less helpless in your ability to stay upright; you were getting closer and closer with Maria, and more and more intrigued by Lafayette. He was abundantly friendly, and his ability to command a room was enviable, but your unfortunate sticking place was how it seemed he'd already become more than familiar with every woman in the class. He was chatty, obviously, but it was impossible to determine whether his flirty demeanor was unconscious, or whether he knew exactly what he was doing to you. You didn't know quite what to make of him, but you certainly enjoyed eyeing him from the back of the room as you pondered it.
However, his earlier words were stuck firmly in the back of your mind, regardless of whether they'd been sincere. He's your teacher, you reminded yourself, every time you caught yourself staring at his straining biceps when he demonstrated the choreography. It would be entirely inappropriate.
And while your rational mind was right there with you, more than ready to jump ship on the fruitless ordeal of pining after your gorgeous dance instructor with the even more gorgeous accent, neither your hormones nor your heart seemed to agree. While, yes, they understood very well how inappropriate the scenario was, their mantra was something more along the lines of, I'm so fucked.
To say the least, you were in deep.
You wiped sweat from your brow with the hem of your tank top as you retreated to your bag, Lafayette still shouting to everyone from the front of the class as they began to disperse, and you all but entirely tuned out his naive encouragement, reminding you all to keep up the good work. Instead, you grabbed a drink of your water as you walked over to find Maria.
"Hey." You grinned, taking a drink of your water, and she looked over at you with an easy smile, brow raised.
"Hey." She swung her bag onto her shoulder. "You find that any easier than I did?"
You had to scoff at the question, reminiscence painful despite her teasing tone. "Are you really asking me that, now? You're supposed to be the in-shape one in this relationship."
She grinned. "I can't pick up all your slack, L/N. A relationship is supposed to be a two-way street."
"Guess I'll have to step up my game, then." You had to remind yourself exactly why you'd approached her as she dug through her bag, pulling out a sweat towel, her abs flexing as she strained to support the bag in front of her. (You were getting progressively less sure you wouldn't be sliding into her DMs at any point.) She raised her eyebrows at you as she took a drink of water, waiting for you to continue.
You cleared your throat. "So, I was thinking, me and a few of my friends are planning on going to grab dinner after work this Friday, just to go hang out. Would you wanna join us? I think you'd like them."
She pursed her lips, and despite her nonchalance, her smiling eyes gave away how she'd softened at the invitation. "Yeah, I'm down. Where are you all going?"
"Dunno yet." You shrugged, but couldn't help your grin. You were just a bit too excited for Maria to meet your friends. "Probably just someplace downtown?"
She held your endeared gaze another moment before she spoke. "Yeah, sure, can you text m--"
"Y/N!" Both your heads turned as Lafayette approached with a wide smile, cutting off both your invitation and your eagerness to tell Maria everything there was to know about your friends. You hoped desperately that they'd hit it off. (You noticed in the corner of your vision Maria rolling her eyes as he approached.)
It seemed everyone else in the class had cleared out at that point, so he'd apparently decided that interrupting your conversation was appropriate. "Was ze video 'elpful?"
You let out a light sigh, nodded with a smile. "For sure. Thanks for sending it."
"Of course, chérie."
You pulled your bag further up on your shoulder as you glanced away from him, again meeting Maria's eyes. "So are we on for Friday?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world." She grinned, threw you a playful wink. "I'll be sure to wear something tight."
"What is Friday?" Lafayette interjected as you laughed, and you turned to see his raised brow. Maria had at that point begun to leave, checking her missed texts; apparently, she didn't have much interest in sticking around to chat with Lafayette. You shrugged.
"Not much. Just bringing Maria out with some of my friends. No special occasion."
"And you did not bother to invite me?" He raised his eyebrows, letting out a mocking gasp, and despite being unable to stifle your smile, you rolled your eyes. "I am not sure whether to be offended."
"Sorry, Lafayette; this one's girls only." His facade of a pout grew. "Can't just violate the sanctity of ladies' night like that. Wouldn't be fair."
"So when do I get to meet the rest of your friends?"
"You've met Maria, haven't you?" He huffed, and your grin grew at his adverse reaction. You knew, by then, not to take Lafayette's quips as being in earnest, but you didn't have to avoid being entertained by them.
"Ah, Y/N, I see 'ow it is. Do not worry, I take no offense."
"Wasn't worried," you reassured him, digging through the side of your bag to retrieve your sweatshirt.
He let out a snort of laughter. "Now I take some offense."
"Why would you?"
He ignored that, continuing, "Perhaps I will 'ave to get Maria to invite me to her 'ladies' nights' instead. You would not be invited, of course, since I am apparently not good enough to penetrate your inner circle."
You didn't bother even to humor him, fishing your phone out of your pocket. "Buy me dinner first," you teased, tone dry, and he grinned.
"Per'aps I will."
____________________
You didn't think about that interaction even once before Friday. Though Lafayette and Maria both maintained a place in your subconscious, your dance lessons, your Friday plans, all slid to the back burner as you spent your time working day and night, redrafting and finishing a long-term report for your job. It happened to be due Friday, so that ultimately became your priority leading up to the end of the workweek.
Thankfully, after the exhaustion the past few days had put you through, no one had been all that invested in the idea of going out on the town, so your night out became a night in, watching tacky romcoms at low volumes on Eliza's couch and arguing over which Hugh Grant film was the best of his phases. (The answer was obviously Notting Hill, but to each their own.)
Maria was meshing well with your small girl group, much to your delight, but seeing the way she and Angelica had been making eyes at each other all night made you groan internally. (Angelica still had a boyfriend, mind you, but she seemed to have conveniently forgotten that detail.)
You were just reaching the first confession scene in Bridget Jones's Diary when your phone first pinged. Your instinct was just to turn it over, hide the glow of the screen in the couch cushions, but whoever had messaged you apparently had plans other than letting you all pine for Colin Firth's Mark Darcy. Your notification sound went off once more before you decided you had to turn it on silent -- that, and Eliza's glare when it kept going off had scared you into submission. (Did whoever was texting her not know that double-texting was a bother, or did they just not care?)
When you finally turned your phone over to turn the ringer off, your pulse jumped, and your stomach turned.
lafayette sent: hey
lafayette sent: u up?
However, after you processed the initial shock of seeing his name show up in your notifications, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the content of the texts.
Y/N sent: are you deliberately interrupting my girls' night out of spite, or did you need something?
lafayette sent: your assumption hurts me
lafayette sent: i could never be so spiteful
Y/N sent: i'm sure
Y/N sent: other than the alternate girls' night you've decided to set up just to exclude me from it, of course
lafayette sent: extenuating circumstances :(
Y/N sent: how??
lafayette sent: you excluded me first :((
Y/N sent: isn't that like, the definition of spite???
lafayette sent: depends on your perspective
Y/N sent: don't think that's how that works
"Y/N," Eliza hissed, yanking your attention from the text string. You were sure you looked like a deer in headlights when you met her eyes, instinctively pulling your phone closer to hide the screen. "Either put that away or go to the kitchen; I'm trying to appreciate corporate Hugh Grant."
"Sorry for distracting you from your very important engagement," you grumbled as you picked yourself up from the couch, sliding your legs out from under where Maria and Angelica were all but in one another's laps. You eyed them with an amused smile before retreating from where your friends lay.
Y/N sent: anyway, why'd you text me?
lafayette sent: turns out working late on a friday isn't the party it's made out to be
lafayette sent: can you blame me for looking for a bit of entertainment?
Y/N sent: what happened to texting me being "entirely inappropriate"?
lafayette sent: didn't i just mention how bored i am???
lafayette sent: desperate times, desperate measures
You rolled your eyes.
Y/N sent: calling talking to me a 'desperate measure' isn't the way to stop me from blocking you
lafayette sent: my apologies
lafayette sent: but what's more entertaining than doing something "entirely inappropriate" on a friday night?
Y/N sent: the girls night that you weren't invited to
lafayette sent: hurtful
lafayette sent: i had to work anyway, so you would not have been graced with my presence
Y/N sent: why are you still at work??
Y/N sent: who the hell is taking dance lessons at 11 pm on a friday
lafayette sent: teaching dance isn't my only job
lafayette sent: i have to pay the bills somehow
Y/N sent: what else do you do?
lafayette sent: unimportant
Y/N sent: ah yes because that makes it seem less suspicious
lafayette sent: i am glad
Y/N sent: seriously tho, are you a bartender? secretly a cook at some fancy dinner place?
Y/N sent: a spy sent to infiltrate city hall by night??
lafayette sent: you are a poor guesser
Y/N sent: i don't have much info to work with
Y/N sent: that'd be like me telling you to guess what i'm wearing while i was dressed in drag
Y/N sent: you aren't exactly making it obvious
lafayette sent: what ARE you wearing? 👀
You inhaled sharply, heat creeping up the back of your neck as you leaned back against the kitchen counter.
Y/N sent: go back to work
lafayette sent: am i not exciting enough for you?
Y/N sent: i think you can find a different 'entirely inappropriate' way to spend your friday
lafayette sent: perhaps you're right
lafayette sent: i suppose my job fills the same purpose
Y/N sent: ?????
Y/N sent: you do know you're just making yourself sound more and more like some kind of criminal, right??
lafayette sent: goodnight, cherie
lafayette sent: i am sorry to leave you with your boring evening
Y/N sent: ur loss
lafayette sent: i cannot disagree
lafayette sent: dream of me ;)
Despite how clichéd the line was, you could, by then, feel your cheeks burning as you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. You should've turned off the phone right then; he was done texting you, and it'd saved you a world of trouble, but your fixation on reading and re-reading the messages was your downfall.
"Who have you been texting?"
You jumped at the voice from the entrance to the kitchen, pulse spiking. There stood Maria, a skeptical eyebrow raised with an empty wine glass. You forced a smile, shrugged as she neared you, holding the phone up to your chest.
"No one. Just a friend."
She hummed in understanding as she walked around to your other side, reaching for the bag of Takis you could only assume Eliza had sent her to grab. "Seemed like you were having quite a reaction to texting 'just a friend.'"
She gave you a knowing smile that you couldn't help but return, despite rolling your eyes when she wiggled her eyebrows at you. "Don't worry about it. It's no one."
However, with how self-conscious and consumed in your own thoughts you were, you didn't notice her peering over your shoulder when you went to turn off your phone screen.
"Lafayette?!" Her whisper-shout directly in your ear had you flinching away, taking a step back when she reached for your phone. "You've been texting Lafayette all evening?"
If you'd felt embarrassed just reading his texts, by then, your skin was burning. Maria looked well-beyond intrigued, and you pursed your lips to hide your smile. "It's not like that. Let's go finish the movie."
You tucked your phone into your back pocket, turning to go with her back to your living room, but as deftly as you should've expected from her, she swiped your phone from your jeans, turning away to snoop through your messages before you could even begin to react.
"Maria!" you scowled, whirling around to find her wearing a mischievous grin.
"Now, what exactly is on here that you don't want me looking through?" She glanced back over her shoulder at you, her gaze teasing as she went and unlocked your phone. You would never have imagined this would be why you came to regret giving her your passcode.
"Give me my phone," you groaned, following her back toward the counter, your anxiety spiking alongside your fatigue. You were too tired to earnestly give chase. "It's just logistical stuff for class. It's not what you're thinking."
"Mhm." Her skeptical tone told you all you needed to know.
You buried your face in your hands when she turned back to you with wide eyes. "Y/N. Are you fucking serious?"
"What?"
"Why haven't you fucked Lafayette yet?"
"What?" You looked at her in shocked disbelief, brow furrowed. She only looked at you expectantly, apparently still looking for an answer, and you scowled. "Give me my phone back. C'mon."
"Listen, I'm the one who's had to listen to you two flirting every day after class; I think I'm allowed to have an opinion in this by now." Apparently, she was ignoring your pleas for her to leave your sex life alone for the evening.
"We have not been flirting. Don't be dramatic."
"He started a conversation with, 'you up?' That's how people start booty calls, okay? There is nothing platonic about this."
You rolled your eyes, reaching over to snatch your phone from her hands, and this time, she put up little resistance, if any. "That's just how he is. It's not personal. Have you seen the way he talks to every other woman in our class?"
She folded her arms, pinning you with a skeptical stare. "I can promise you he isn't texting the rest of the women in our class at 11 PM on a Friday looking for an invite to their place."
"That's out of context!" you argued, but she didn't seem convinced. "Can we just go back to the movie? Please?"
For a moment, neither of you said anything, and she pursed her lips. "Fine." She brushed past you as she unrolled the bag of Takis, throwing you one last sly grin over her shoulder. "But don't think you're off the hook, L/N. This is far from over."
"Duly noted." Your dead stare didn't discourage how smug she looked as you walked together back into your living room. You couldn't help but think that her snooping into your sex life was mildly hypocritical as you eyed how touchy she and Angelica had become in just a few short hours, but you decided to put it out of your mind. The movie only had about an hour left, anyway.
You pulled out your phone to check the time as Eliza leaned over to you on the couch. "What was all that about? We could hear you and Maria from here."
"Don't worry about it," you murmured, glancing down at your phone screen. The time read 11:24 PM, but when you went to power it off, a notification caught your eye.
lafayette sent: i know i'll be dreaming of you
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kazuzuha · 3 years
Text
*:・゚✧*:・゚ part three
part one ; part two ; part four ; ...
this work is protected by copyright. copyright © kazuzuha ™ 2021
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It took me another two years to find a new goal and remember my past one - the latter being that of me exploring the world, meeting new people, seeing the archons, eating new foods, feeling the wind of the highest mountains in Teyvat...
Interestingly, this goal that I had forgotten coincided with the one I had now; running away.
That was all I had in mind in the time gone by, all that truly kept me breathing in that suffocating place. My own mindset was an opposition to my mother’s, her traditional perfectionism trying to mold me into someone flawless, yet, not better than her. My own set of unbearably high standards wore me down, then were further pushed by her hand which ignored the fact that our pressures came from the same place. But I knew. I knew. 
It was at fifteen that I fully understood that knowing you are in an unhealthy situation does not call upon the Archons to help. 
Father was not around, busy with climbing ranks and taming the snowstorms. If he knew of my ambition, he would have agreed to that marriage proposal I had been given years ago, suspiciously immediately after the Tsaritsa’s interest in me was expressed. It was not that my father did not love or care for me; the opposite stood true. However, he was unaware of how deeply the mental scars inflicted by my mother ran. She was a good wife, a great wife for a Snezhnayan especially. But she was not a good mother. All I had tried to explain, he had already known of, but from a completely different perspective; words convoluted, actions exaggerated - after years of hearing second-hand stories about his child, his image of me became exactly what my mother intended. Therefore, hoping and begging for his help would be redundant. I had to get away on my own two feet.
That being said, I still needed outside help and financial freedom. I made acquaintances amongst my peers, though being taken into a circle of Snezhnayan kids was a difficult task; due to my family’s high standing and my mother’s foreignity, I was either avoided or sneered at. No one dared say much, but those that did were not speaking in welcome. The odds would be stately against my success, if it were not for my observance. Most children were homeschooled and the only way to meet others my age was at a very occasional party or in organised training. There were certain aspects that I saw were well accepted in their eyes; strength, resilience, beauty and charm. I trained in strength, my mind forced resilience, the beauty and charm part could be subsistuted by wealth and social standing. It should have worked. Unfortunately, I did not consider my gender.
After beating a boy twice my size in combat, I was not revered as I had previously expected. I was not suddenly accepted into a friend group, was not offered the bitter alcohol they hid under their shirts. I was a foreign girl they could not touch, could not win against. And that pissed them off. The spreading of rumours seemed like a simple childish act at first, but the way people began to view me was set in stone before they even met me, painting me as unattainable, arrogant. A sense of déjà vu made me realise that I was once again losing an exit out of this place. But I was a quick learner.
Instead of my peers at the training grounds, I looked elsewhere. Tagging along with my father under the pretense of learning his strategies, donning my most modest dresses and tint on my lips, I met the younglings of aristocracy. They recognised my situation as their own, shunned for being better than everyone else. The mindset of superiority deeply ingrained in their small heads made it laughably easy to appease them and get piles of information that I made sure to memorize. My graceful actions, soft-spoken words and dainty visuals… all crafted to fit the perfect standard of a young girl beloved by the Tsaritsa. 
Manipulation was effortless to replicate and after shedding a false tear over an acquaintance’s loss of a parent, the apprehension of the lack of my care about using others sent shudders down my spine. I hated it. I hated being forced to do the same I had been an object of. Most of all, I was horrified by how good I was at it. A secret account provided by a lovesick fool who turned out to be the son of the main manager of our biggest bank. Five sources of income through illegal trade business from Fontaine. A shy girl who wished for one good friend, the daughter of the biggest weaponry corporation, owning over fifty industrial factories in Snezhnaya alone. In less than two years, I was the biggest shareholder of two major companies. 
All I needed was a good public reason to leave and never come back - if I had run away in the middle of the night, the powerful people around me would send hundreds behind me without a second thought. The only ones who can facilely leave are the Fatui - Tsaritsa’s dogs - and, of course, her Harbingers. I have seen my fair share of Fatui, especially when I was still dealing with the mess that was the illegal trading with Fontaine’s machinery. They were soldiers, but they were also people; until you gave them enough power to be drunk on. As for the Harbingers, two of them I had met on multiple occasions; the man I had momentarily seen at Tsaritsa’s side on that balcony was presented as Dottore, or Doctor, though his unhinged expressions pointed to him being a rabid predator, not a healer. He was a shadow; never seen, but always… there. The second Harbinger was my father’s old acquaintance known by the title La Signora, or more favourably, The Fair Lady. As a visionless female aristocrat, I was expected to marry quickly and provide many future soldiers to the armies of Snezhnaya. When I was younger I did not understand the disgust and abhorrence I felt at the thought of my set future. Without dreams, I only wandered. It was not surprising that I began to look up to the notoriously powerful Signora, especially since the silver shade in our eyes was of the same empty shine. Fascinated by her bold disobedience of our land’s customs, I caught myself imitating her walk; young and impressionable, sure, but I also knew that without a Vision, I would never be able to stride as freely as she could. 
That is why I spent so much energy and time on getting Mora. In complete honesty, I could have left Snezhnaya a year into my socialisation. In only a few months, I had enough financial security to start a business in the faraway Liyue which flourished past my expectations. Despite resigning myself to using others, the human mind sometimes cannot help but create bonds of affection to others and so, after the first time hearing “comrade” or the late-night conversations with a painfully vulnerable and lonely teenager, I could not help but want to stay longer, although merely subconsciously. I began finding reasons to stay; perhaps visiting Liyue to oversee my business after a scandal was not a good enough plan to leave, perhaps I should save just a bit more before I go on a long journey, what if the branch deal suddenly fails, I need to manage this project myself… The excuses piled up, my very few friendships strengthened and then, I thought; living here for the rest of my life would not be the worst. This idea was proven wrong time and time again, the glares like daggers in my back, enviness of others putting poison in my cups, the bloody display of the rare bunny I was gifted by a prominent and popular merchant, my mother’s slap at the word “Liyue” leaving my mouth.
I was woken up by news of the forgotten childhood marriage proposal being reconsidered.
“My clever girl is all grown up now!” my father spoke loudly, his fork sounding on the golden plate as the guests around him followed his proud tone with interest. Turning to his closest comrade, another one of Tsaritsa’s most trusted, he spoke as if confiding a secret though all invitees could hear him clearly: “Nobody is ever going to be good enough for my dove, but I’m considering accepting that proposal. They’d make a good match, both of their heads full of coins.”
Booming laughter ensued as my smile froze on my lips. He had never discussed this with me beforehand, so why now?
As if he had read my thoughts, Father’s eyes found mine, his bright and naive, sure that I would simply go with it as I had with everything until now. I decided to keep the illusion intact and made myself smile wider. 
“Girlie that plays with coins, hah! If that’s what he needs to tie him down, I’d get on my knees myself,” the other man spoke, raising his glass towards me and eliciting another round of hollers. 
Not one to stay quiet in rage, I spoke with a light, pretty tone: “Sorry to say this old man, but I’d prefer for the man to kneel down for my hand himself. Your legs might just give out from how long you’d have to be begging on the ground for him.”
The hidden jab of my not even knowing who the man proposing was went past their ears.
“As expected!” the man yelled over the ear-wrenching laughter, slapping my grinning father on the back, while another man, whom I recognised as my only female friend’s absentee parent, spoke up; “She’s really your kid, through and through. Shame you didn’t make a boy, too, with that spunk he’d be one of Tsaritsa’s best warriors by now.”
“No kid of mine would be any good as a soldier,” Father countered, the alcohol in his glass disappearing. “Us Silvers use our heads.”
After he playfully headbutts his comrade, the conversation moves elsewhere and I take my leave. Again, I find myself on the balcony, heaving deep breaths, desperately trying to calm my racing pulse. Vaguely, I think about my wild expression and how others would react if they chanced upon me at this moment, but my unbearable fear does not allow for a stoic attitude. 
Ah, right, I wanted to run away.
It is needless to say that I got my plans in order just that night.
I only let my closest friends know of the finality of my departure, sent a personal letter to the Tsaritsa and prepared an entourage of people who wanted to permanently leave Snezhnaya as well.
Tsaritsa’s reply was swift and curt; a permit to leave for business. There was not any mention of a permit to return, but that was exactly what I had been looking for.
I mentioned my journey East to my parents at a rare shared dinner, as if passing news. My mother would have dragged me by my hair if we had been alone; having my father present was imperative. With my mother’s forced silence, I explained that, due to the scandal - which I had painstakingly created myself - I wanted to take charge of the business in Liyue Harbour for three months until I found a capable enough manager to take over the decision-making.
“It is unsavory for women to make the main decisions in a business,” I sighed, massaging the side of my head as if troubled by this gravely. My father nodded, sympathetically, while my mother coldly glared at my theatrics. It was not her that I needed to convince, anyway; she would follow whatever her husband decided. Holding Father’s hand, a physical contact of seldom, I continued: “I want to get this over with quickly, that is why I am going myself. After all, the marriage should not be put off for too long, should it? You told me a few days ago that you wanted a grandson, after all.”
I left three days after that.
The tearful farewells were done in secret, only polite nods were given in the public eye. More people have come to bid me a good journey than I would have expected, my ties reaching further than those of the usual Snezhnayan. I decided to speed up my leave before anyone else could notice.
White mountains and the creaking of snow beneath the heavy feet slowly turned into browns and greens and sloshes of mud. We stayed the night at a guesthouse in Fontaine, the waterfalls washing away the prints of our path. I wished I could have run away immediately, but arriving at the Liyue headquarters was a necessary evil to maintain our facade; if we did not send word, it would have been no different from an escape without planning. 
The warm water felt wonderful against my cold skin, accustomed to the harsh weather of the land of Cryo. It was a few hours after sunset and only the sounds of nocturnal butterflies were present. The unchanging moon shone down, reflecting its light into the lake, its shape sometimes a copy, sometimes a caricature. 
TBA
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ayatosmlktea · 5 years
Note
hey! this is gonna be a bit angsty but could you do a little thing where the reader is from the underground, and like levi, she was taken away but she left behind this little kid she was taking care of and levi and whoever else has to escort her and she finds the little kid dead and she breaks down and blames herself, and neither of them have ever seen her like this and levi asks the other person to get out and they have like an intimate moment? sorry if this is stupid haha, i love your writing!
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TW: Child Death 
𝑨𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 
Y/N had watched as Levi had evaded the scouts with ease, she had high hopes that he wouldn’t be caught. He probably wouldn’t have if she hadn’t got in the way, it had been a stupid miscalculation on her part. She was usually good at keeping her cool under intense pressure which was the main reason Levi had allowed her to tag along with his group. 
Their bodies collided together painfully, his knee connecting with her stomach knocking the air out of her lungs. Her reflexes were good but nowhere as fast as Levi’s and the weight of her body falling on top of his prevented him from being able to make a getaway. The grimy taste of dirt filled her mouth as they both hit the ground, the residual force of their odm gear sent them hurtling across the dirty floor of an alley. Y/N was covered in dirt and her clothes were wet with a substance she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the origin of. Two swords were held inches from their faces before they could scramble to their feet and make an escape. Levi sighed heavily underneath her and she couldn’t help but feel guilty that their capture had been her fault.
Needless to say, Y/N had been shocked when Levi had agreed to join the scouts. She couldn’t judge his choice, a free ticket to the surface was something they’d been working for. Isabel and Farlan would no doubt be excited to see a world outside of their bleak upbringing but there was one thought weighing heavily on her mind. The heavy hand nudging against her shoulder blade urging her forward made her well aware that trying to escape last minute was out of the question.
In all honesty it was probably what had distracted her from keeping up with Levi’s maneuvering before. Y/N hadn’t seen Danny in a few days and the voice at the back of her head that he was in some kind of danger was eating away at her conscience. She had been looking for him all day through dimly lit streets with no sign of the blond boy. Levi had insisted he go with her, he knew she had been taking care of him long before she had joined their group. 
She never told anyone the details of how they had met, Y/N preferred keeping her personal life as private as possible especially where Danny was concerned. The less people who knew about him the better, but their capture provided a way for Y/N to get him to the surface if Erwin allowed it. It was a lot to ask of someone who had been intent on killing Levi mere moments ago but she knew without her Danny wouldn’t survive on his own. He wasn’t like them, the primitive drive for survival that had been embedded into Levi and Y/N was not in his nature. Her face remained impassive as they were led through the streets of the underground for the last time.
“Excuse me Erwin, there’s someone I’m...taking care of. They won’t get by without me, would it be possible to bring them too?” She blurted out, the lump of anxiety pressed against her ribcage making each breath burn in her chest. The uncertainty in her voice was unlike her typically calm and aloof persona, it had Levi casting a side glance her way. He knew who she was referring to, but he also knew that she was asking for a lot. The fact that they were bringing not one, but four people to the surface was unheard of.
“I’m afraid not. You four are a special case, I’m sorry.” Hanging her head in defeat she gives a curt nod. Y/N knew the chances of Erwin agreeing to let her bring Danny with them were slim to none but if she didn’t at least try and ask she would’ve beat herself up over it.
Not that she didn’t think about him everyday, Danny was her motivation to become stronger, faster. Better able to protect the people she cared about, she was not going to repeat the same mistake that had gotten them caught in the first place. It had been a couple of months since they’d joined the scouts...merely a few weeks since they’d lost Isabel and Farlan. Y/N needed something to distract her from the empty void in her heart, it crept up on her in the dead of night preventing her from getting any sleep. Levi was also taking it hard, shouldering the responsibility for their deaths alone despite her numerous attempts at telling him that it wasn’t his fault. 
Levi was shutting her out and the loneliness combined with her constant guilt over abandoning Danny was slowly breaking her. Erwin becoming commander gave her the chance she’d been patiently waiting for. Y/N was not one to shy away from authority, growing up in the underground had given her thick skin. It was late, insomnia was getting the best of her and instead of moping around in bed she decided to ask Erwin for a long overdue favour. The dim light under his door let her know that he was still awake. Y/N wasn’t surprised to find Levi in Erwin’s office, the pair had become closer since Levi had given up his mission of killing the newly appointed commander.
“Sir I’d like to request permission to go to the underground. Tomorrow.” Y/N steeled her nerves, fully prepared to be shut down but unwilling to give up so easily this time. Levi’s eyes widened the tiniest bit, surprised that she was still holding onto wanting to go back for the brat. Erwin said nothing for a while, the two of them in a silent stare down. Her efforts to push herself past her limits in training hadn’t gone unnoticed by Erwin. He figured that it was only a matter of time before coming to him with the same request that she had boldly asked of him.
“I have enough money to bring him up, he’ll live with me until I can find a suitable place for him to live. I don’t need anyone to escort me, all I’m asking for is your permission.” Erwin’s brow cocked at her plan. She’d clearly been thinking about this for a while. Levi had tried convincing Erwin after they had been brought to HQ, but it wasn’t in his  authority to bring up other citizens for free, even if they were young.
“Fine, but you will be escorted. Nothing personal, just standard procedure.” Y/N felt relief rush through her system, finally months of saving up would finally pay off. While she wasn’t thrilled about having to be escorted she would take it, not wanting to ruin a good thing. She only hoped that Danny would be able to forgive her for leaving him behind.
“Thank you sir!” Saluting him and turning on her heel she missed the way Levi’s eyes followed her across the room.
“I’m going with her” Levi stated once the door to Erwin’s office had been shut.
“I know”
♡    ♡    ♡ 
Y/N found herself unable to sleep, tossing and turning the entire night excited and yet dreading seeing Danny again. He’d barely been six years old when they had been separated and she could only pray that he had found a decent person to take him in. Despite barely getting a wink of sleep, Y/N was bouncing with nervous energy, although she wouldn’t show it on the outside.
“What are you doing?” She asked dryly, not entirely thrilled to deal with Levi’s colder than usual attitude.
“Erwin’s orders” He replied in an equally dry tone. He hadn’t meant to shut her out, it just happened to be easier than processing his own emotions and coming to the realization that he was relieved and grateful she was still with him. Levi knew that he couldn’t let her go back to the underground on her own, there were too many things that could go wrong. He didn’t want to deal with his feelings for her, call it what you would but Levi wouldn’t be able to survive losing Y/N. Especially after becoming romantically attached to her. 
Her leg bounced anxiously the duration of the ride, Levi knew he should have probably said something to help ease the anxiety she felt but the words in his head weren’t coming out right. So Levi settled to staring out of the carriage window trying to suppress the heavy lump of dread that had made itself at home in his stomach.
Levi’s nose crinkled in disgust at the familiar smell of the underground. Nothing had changed since they had left, their scouts uniform caught the attention of several onlookers. Y/N’s face remained void of emotion but Levi could see something change in her eyes. They held hope and anxiety.
 The escorts Erwin had sent with them followed Levi and Y/N closely as they weaved their way through familiar streets. Y/N and Levi had gotten the escorts to agree to letting them split up in order to cover more ground with one guard following each of them. Y/N was beginning to grow worried, she had checked all of Danny’s standard hiding places with no luck. There was one last place that she was going to check, she had hoped that he was smart enough to use their old house as a hideout until someone was able to take him in.
Walking along the street that led to their abandoned house filled Y/N with a sense of nostalgia she didn’t want. Holding her breath, her heart was pounding in her ears as she stepped inside the dimly lit building. Y/N wasn’t surprised to find their house completely ransacked. She resisted the urge to run her fingertips over dust coated countertops, knowing full well the lecture Levi was going to give her about germs was sure to follow.
Anxiety and fear were rapidly building up in her gut as she pushed open the door to her bedroom, heart jumping into her throat at the sight before her. Y/N wasn’t sure how to react, her feet moved on their own accord towards the small body lying in her bed. Ripped up shreds of paper scattered around Danny’s body.
“No no no this isn’t happening” she whispered, hot tears pricked at her eyes blurring her vision.
“Danny? It’s me...I came back” her voice came out strained against the lump in her throat. Y/N tried to bite back her sobs but it was futile, covering her mouth with one hand she used the other to pick up the pieces of paper. They were all scribbled with messages. Hungry, cold, sad, sleepy. The guilt that tore through her body was unbearable as she sank to her knees unleashing an inhumane cry of grief. Levi’s footsteps came bounding into the bedroom, grimacing at his gut feeling becoming a reality.
The soldiers stared on in a mixture of horror and stupor, Y/N had never been so emotional before. Not even Levi had seen her shed a single tear until now.
“Get out, I’ll handle this” The two escorts glanced at each other before nodding, the pained cries coming from Y/N were too much for them to handle.
“It’s my fault! It’s all my fault!” Y/N sobbed into her hands which were now covering her face. Levi’s heart ached for her and Danny. Approaching her cautiously, he knelt down on the ground next to her and pulled her into his chest without hesitation. Her hands gripped the material of his jacket burying her face in the crook of his neck.
“It’s not your fault.” Levi let her cry against him, his hands rubbing comforting circles on her back until she eventually passed out from exhaustion. He knew it was going to be a long time before Y/N recovered from this.
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wistfulcynic · 5 years
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On What They Fall 1 /4
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SO this began life as a drabble. It was a teeny-tiny idea that I wrote on my phone in the middle of the night that grew and grew and GREW so now it is two chapters. And that is ALL. Because I can’t do any more than that. And also because then @thisonesatellite has to buy me a bottle of whisky 🥃. Heh heh. 
SUMMARY: Killian Jones is an angry young man. He has no family and few friends, and he’s stuck in a small town where everyone views him with fear and suspicion. 
Everyone but Emma Swan. 
She’s everything he wants in life and everything he can’t have. What he doesn’t know is that she wants him too. 
Part 9 of Secret Things. 
(There are hints at attempted suicide here, just light references but be aware if this is a trigger for you)
Rated: T 
On AO3
Tagging some folks who might enjoy it: @kmomof4, @stahlop, @mariakov81, @teamhook, @resident-of-storybrooke, @darkcolinodonorgasm, @shireness-says, @thejollyroger-writer, @ohmightydevviepuu (Give me a shout if you’d like a tag for Chapter 2 THE FINAL CHAPTER)
On What They Fall: 
It’s past one in the morning when she arrives at the bar where he’s drinking, a dingy little dive near the harbour. Young women rarely frequent it unless they mean business, which is one of the reasons he goes there. She though, she, with her hair and her face and her body in that soft pink dress, she stands out like… like an inflamed digitus primus manus.
She’d laugh if he said that to her, he thinks.
(Like a what now?
A sore thumb, Swan.
Well, why can’t you just say that?)
One a.m., he thinks. Not her birthday anymore.
--
Her eyes find him the minute she walks through the door. He’s slouching against the bar, all lean limbs and nonchalance, his eyes on the game of pool going on in the corner. Her mouth goes dry at the sight of him, as it always does. 
She wipes her palms on her skirt and makes her approach. 
“Hey, Killian.”
He turns and a small smile quirks the corners of his mouth, crinkles the edges of his eyes. It looks involuntary.
“Swan,” he replies.
She swallows hard as his voice seems to stroke her, sends a shiver up her spine. “Hi.” She attempts a smile. “I’m, uh, back for the weekend.”  
“So I see,” he says, pushing himself upright in one liquid motion. “Happy birthday.”
She tries not to read anything into the fact that he remembered. If he did remember. If he didn’t just deduce it from her presence here in the bar she was too young to enter until yesterday. She tries, but the hope in her heart doesn’t listen.
“Thanks,” she says.
He takes a small box out of his jacket pocket, square and flat and tied with a red ribbon that’s slightly crushed. He holds it out to her like a challenge.
“What— what’s this?”
There’s tension in his smile now, a brittle stiffness in his posture. “It’s a present, Swan, surely you’ve seen them before,” he snarks. “Quite a few of them I shouldn’t wonder.”
He’s deflecting, she thinks. He’s embarrassed to be offering her something.
She understands him far better than he thinks.
She takes the box from him with a shy smile and he relaxes just a fraction, but when she starts to untie the ribbon he almost lunges forward to stop her, letting his fingers brush hers just lightly before he yanks his hand away again. His fist clenches at his side. “Don’t open it here,” he says quietly.
“Why no—”
“Just, please, Swan. Don’t.”
“Okay.” She tucks the box into her bag and starts to ask him how he’s been when from the corner of her eye she sees a petite brunette waving at him from the pool table. He nods at her and gives her a wink, and the smile he directs at Emma turns dismissive. No, she thinks, feeling desperate. Not yet. He can’t leave now, it’s too soon, she’s barely seen him. She’s been looking forward to this for weeks and he’s just going to ditch her after a two minute conversation?
“If you’ll excuse me, Swan,” he says, but she doesn’t move.
“Another one, then,” she sniffs, letting her eyes flick towards the pool table.
His eyes are shuttered, defensive. “Aye,” he growls, “What of it?”
“Nothing, nothing.” She attempts to walk back from her catty remark. “It’s just... well, I guess it must be fun, all the attention. Women falling all over you wherever you go. But don’t you ever think—” She’s had a few drinks in other bars, liquid courage to help her come here and speak to him, and it loosens her tongue a bit too much. “Don’t you want to fall in love?” 
His mouth twists. “I am in love,” he says harshly. The words seem wrenched from him. “For all the bloody good it does me.”
She starts to laugh, but then she sees his face. “You’re serious!”
He smirks. Her heart clenches, stumbles in a chest that’s gone painfully tight as the room seems to shrink around her. Of course she knows he sleeps around,  he has since they were teenagers and never bothered to hide it. She’s even teased him about it, burying her hurt in humour and clinging to the small consolation that with her, with them, it’s different. He talks to her, sometimes for hours, and she’s always thought that maybe… once he stops being so angry at the world… maybe they might find their way to each other. She’s prepared to wait for him, for as long as it takes. But this… this she didn’t see coming.
“Who is she?” Emma asks, and her voice sounds so small.
His is flat, emotionless. “Someone who will never return my affections,” he says.
“So that’s why you...” She gestures at the brunette.
“Aye.”
“Does it help?”
“Not really.”
“Then why don’t you stop?”
He laughs, bitter and angry. “And do what instead? Sit at home and think about her? Fantasise about all the things I want and can’t ha—” he cuts himself off.
“You could—”
“Swan, please. I really don’t wish to discuss this with you. Just let me do my ‘man-whoring’ as you so charmingly call it, in peace.”
She puts her hand on his arm, holding her breath so he won’t hear how much touching him affects it. His arm is warm even through his jacket, the muscles hard beneath her fingers. Her heart tries to beat clear out of her chest. “I regret I ever said that,” she whispers.
He shrugs. “It’s okay. It’s the truth.”
He sounds breathless, and his jaw is tense. He pulls away from her touch, steps back. Gives her a small, mocking bow. “See you around, Swan,” he smirks. She stands for a minute, groping desperately for calm, and when she goes to look for him again both he and the brunette are gone.
--
She opens his present in bed, curled under the blankets in a private cocoon. It’s a pendant, a delicate rendering of a swan in silver filigree. It’s gorgeous. Her fingers tremble as she removes the necklace she’s worn for years, the one her high school boyfriend gave her. She has no idea why she’s kept it this long, perhaps as a reminder that sometimes when you think someone’s an asshole it’s because he is. She replaces it with Killian’s gift, then closes her fist around it and lets her tears fall. She would have been so happy receiving this just a few hours ago, she thinks. This thoughtful, personal gift. But now that she knows he’s in love, it feels like something he’d give a little sister, not a woman he might someday… but she can’t finish that thought.
--
She seeks him out the next day, down at the docks where he’s working on his boat. An old wreck of a thing he bought on his twenty-first birthday, one he’s been working to fix up for nearly two years.
“Are you ever going to be done with that?” she calls.
He grins, bright as the sunlight. “A ship is always a work in progress, Swan,” he says, patting the mast fondly. “But she’ll be seaworthy soon enough.”
She comes on deck and as she approaches his eyes land on the pendant, framed by the low neck of her shirt. Something flashes across his face, gone in the blink of an eye but she sees it, and she hopes again.
“I came to thank you for this,” she says, brushing her fingertips over the swan. “It’s beautiful.”
He shoves one hand into his jeans pocket, waves the other one dismissively. “It’s nothing,” he says.
“It’s not nothing, Killian, it was very thoughtful—”
His hand closes into a fist. “Don’t make a big deal of it,” he snarls. She doesn’t recoil. It’s always there, this anger, tightly coiled inside him and just waiting for a trigger. She’s used to it. She gives it time to recede, which it does, quickly, leaving him looking contrite. “I’m glad you like it,” he whispers.
“I love it.” I love you.
They stand in silence for a moment as he looks at his feet and she tries to will him to stop, to look at her instead. When he doesn’t she sighs. “I’m going back to school this afternoon,” she says. “I’ll be home again at Thanksgiving.”
“Perhaps I’ll see you then,” he mumbles.
He doesn’t look at her as she gets back in her car and drives away.
--
When she’s gone Killian kicks a coil of rope and then a bucket, then slumps against the boat’s rail, pounding it with his fist as he presses the heel of his other hand against his aching chest. He didn’t really think through how it would look, giving her that pendant. What she or anyone else might read into the gesture. He thought only that it was beautiful and she should have it. She deserves every beautiful thing, and it’s so rare he has a chance to offer her one.
He hopes she won’t tell her father who gave it to her. The sheriff is hostile enough as it is.
--
When Killian first came to Storybrooke his anger was sharper, more volatile. Fresh from losing first his brother and then his parents, with no close family left and still eight months shy of his eighteenth birthday, he’d found himself unceremoniously deposited on the doorstep of his distant cousin Belle, a woman hardly older than he was himself, in a small American town where everything from his clothes to his accent to his furious grief seemed to offend people. His first day at school three boys followed him home, taunting him, and before he could think he lashed out with fury and with his fists. He wasn’t big or particularly strong, but he knew how to fight and how to do it dirty and he laid all three out flat in the middle of Main Street with almost the whole town watching. All of them, staring at him with expressions of horror and disgust, all plainly writing him off as a violent troublemaker who would come to no good.
All but one. Emma Swan never looked at him with anything but compassion, with understanding, like he was someone who mattered— even when her father hauled him away to spend the night in a holding cell.
She appeared in the sheriff’s station hours later, bearing a cup of cocoa and an extra blanket. “It gets cold in here at night,” she said, offering them to him through the bars of the cell. 
Killian stared at her, waiting for the punch line, but she just smiled. “Go on,” she said. “Trust me, you’ll need them both.” 
Trust me. He took them, his fingers brushing hers around the warm paper cup. He blamed the shock, the comedown from adrenaline, the soul-deep exhaustion and the terrible fear that he’d fucked everything up completely when he’d only been in this town a day, for the next words that came out of his mouth. 
“Are you an angel?”
She laughed. “No. I’m Emma, the sheriff’s daughter. Emma Swan.” She held out her hand again, this time for him to shake. He did, and felt the shock of the contact to the tips of his toes. Emma’s eyes grew wide and her smile softened, and when she withdrew her hand she held his heart in it. 
--
He doesn't see Emma again until Christmas, when she and her friends return to his bar. Graham spots them instantly, sitting up straighter and waving them over, his face lit up with pleasure. Killian struggles not to envy the other man’s freedom to smile at Emma, to laugh and tease her. Graham is one of his few friends —too new in town to have any preconceptions about ‘that Jones boy’ and from the correct side of the pond, albeit the unfashionable side of the Irish Sea, Killian jokes when he wants to rile Graham a bit—but he’s also the Sheriff’s favourite deputy and a man that David would clearly welcome into his family with open arms, if the smile on his face whenever Emma and Graham are together is any indication. 
Graham greets Emma with a hug and a Merry Christmas, which she returns warmly. Killian’s jealousy is acid in his gut but he swallows it down, gives Emma a stiff nod and stands to go, to find someplace where he won’t be a third wheel. When Emma puts her hand on his arm to stop him he barely suppresses a flinch. Her touch burns him, makes him yearn for things that can never be his, and he is terrified of what he might do if it goes on too long. Carefully, he pulls away to just beyond her reach and hates himself for the hurt that flashes in her eyes. She tries so hard to be his friend, it’s not her fault he wants far more than friendship from her. 
“Do you have somewhere to be?” she attempts to tease him. 
He shrugs. “Just thought I’d give you two a chance to catch up.” 
“I saw Graham at Thanksgiving,” says Emma, and the acid threatens to choke him. Of course she did. Of course Graham was invited to her family’s celebration. “I haven’t seen you since my birthday. How have you been?”
“Same as always, Swan, nothing ever changes for me,” he replies, trying not to let the bitterness choke him. “I go to work, help Belle at the library, fix my boat. That’s the extent of my existence.” 
She looks like she wants to hug him and he takes a step back, fights the urge to flee. He’ll never fathom why she finds him worth talking to, why she continually seeks him out. It was different when she lived in Storybrooke, they had things to talk about then, but now she’s in college and her world has opened up while Killian’s remains the same narrow slog through the days and weeks and years of pointless grind that’s all he has to look forward to in life. He can’t think of anything to say to her now. 
“I’m going to play some pool,” he says. “Happy Christmas, Swan.” 
--
Emma fights her tears as she watches him go, pastes a smile on her face and turns back to Graham, whose bright, hopeful expression should be welcome but instead just makes her feel trapped. Her dad’s been dropping some less-than-subtle hints lately and she supposes she really should give Graham a chance. He's a great guy, sweet and funny, and she likes him a lot. He clearly likes her too, but he just doesn’t get her, doesn’t see her the way Killian does. Killian sees everything she is, and he understands all of it in a way that Graham and her friends and even her parents could never hope to. 
He’s caught so deep in her heart she can’t extract him from it, not without ripping herself apart in the bargain. Not even to please her father. 
But Killian is across the room determinedly ignoring her, and Graham is charming and funny and there, making her laugh and delighting her friends, and she likes him. When he asks her to dinner she hesitates, looks over to where Killian is leaning into a tall brunette, smiling his flirtatious smile as he toys with the ends of her hair. She swallows hard and pushes away her foolish hope. She says yes.
Graham is thrilled. He’ll pick her up tomorrow at seven, he says, and she agrees then leaves the bar before she can lose her hold on her tears. This is the right decision, she tells herself. Killian's in love with someone who is clearly not her; he doesn’t want her as she wants him and she has to accept it. She can’t keep keeping her hopes up when all he ever does is crush them. 
Killian claps his friend on the back and listens to him enthuse about Emma, how beautiful and kind she is, how he’s never felt like this about anyone before. He keeps a smile plastered on his face and makes all the right noises, nods in all the right places until he can't take it anymore and he slips away, hunching his shoulders and stuffing his hands deep in his pockets as he walks home. His mind is in chaos and his heart feels raw. He has no idea what to do. 
He buys a bottle of rum from the convenience store then goes home, sits down at the kitchen table and proceeds to drink the whole thing, one shot straight after another until the glass becomes a pointless waste of effort and he just drinks straight from the bottle. When it’s empty he takes out the half bottle he already had and finishes that off. Then he digs out the sambuca Belle got as a gift last Christmas. It’s still unopened. He drinks it all. 
When Belle wakes up that morning she finds him sprawled on the floor, barely breathing. She calls an ambulance, clings to his hand as they race to the hospital. Killian’s eyes flutter open. “Belle,” he croaks. 
“I’m here,” she whispers. 
“Don’t— don’t call Emma,” Killian begs. “Please.”
Belle nods, understanding. “I won’t.”  
--
At the hospital they pump his stomach. It saves his life, the doctor says. Acute alcohol poisoning can kill you.
“Shame it didn’t,” mutters Killian, and Belle looks at him sharply. She doesn’t think he did this on purpose but she’s not convinced it was wholly an accident.
“Killian I know you’re hurting but you have to stop doing this to yourself,” she insists, once the doctor has left. “Emma wouldn’t want—”
Killian pulls his hand from her grip. “Emma doesn’t give a damn,” he snaps.
“Now, you know that’s not true. She cares about you—”
He runs his hand over his face. “She’s a kind person, she cares about everyone. Not me in particular.”
Belle opens her mouth then closes it again. She’s tried to argue with him about this before but ultimately she knows there’s really no point— he’s got Emma on far too high a pedestal, he simply can’t believe she might love him.
And Belle knows from personal experience that he has to learn to love himself or he never will.
--
They keep Killian in the hospital overnight for observation. The next morning he’s released, and Belle comes to drive him home. Though they’re only very distant cousins she loves him like much closer family, calling him her ‘little nephew’ when he cheekily refers to her as his ‘Auntie Belle.’ He was only meant to stay with her until he turned eighteen, but by then they’d formed such a bond Belle offered to let him stay as long as he needed and he gratefully accepted. She doesn’t charge him rent but he insists on earning his keep, cleaning and cooking in addition to his job at the docks and his volunteer work at the library. He saves every penny he can and she knows one day he’ll leave. He was never meant to stay in Storybrooke forever. 
When they drive by Granny’s Diner and see Emma and Graham walking through its front gate together, Belle senses from Killian’s blank face and tense shoulders that the moment of his departure might be soon. 
When they get home she makes him sit down at the table and have breakfast, bacon and eggs and toast and strong coffee. He obediently eats it all, but his mind is clearly not on the food. 
“I’ve finished the boat,” he says. “She’s ready to sail.” 
“That’s great!” 
“Yeah. I was thinking I might go.” 
“Go where?”
He shrugs. “Just go. I’ve got enough money saved to last a while, if I keep things simple. I might just sail. No destination. See where the sea takes me,” he jokes with a faint smile. 
Belle nods. She’ll miss him but she knows he needs this. He needs something to help him see what he’s worth, and Storybrooke will never provide it.
Killian continues, his voice strained. “I just can’t bear to see Emma... to see her... I want her to be happy,” he says fiercely. “She deserves that. She deserves someone like Graham who has so much to offer her, and who her family likes. I just— I can’t watch it. I can accept that she doesn’t feel as I do. But I can’t watch her fall in love with someone else. I have to go.”
“I agree,” says Belle. 
“You do?”
“Yes. Storybrooke is my place, but I’ve always known it’s not yours. You’re always welcome here of course, but you have to go and discover what more the world holds for you. You have to find out who you are, Killian, because this…” she gestures at his wrinkled clothes and hunched shoulders, “…this isn’t it. You’re so much better than this.”
He snorts. “I’m really not.”
“You are. I’ve always believed that. Now go find a way to believe it yourself.”
--
Killian leaves at sunrise the next morning. He doesn’t say goodbye. It’s Belle who tells Emma he’s gone, watches as her face goes deathly pale and tears slowly fill her eyes until they overflow and pour in rivulets down her ashen cheeks. She doesn’t make a sound.
Finally she whispers, “He left?”
Belle nods.
Emma’s voice drops until it’s nearly inaudible. “Is he coming back?”
Belle answers truthfully. “I don’t know.”
Tears cascade down Emma’s face and drip off her chin, leaving splotches on her blouse. She doesn’t notice. “How,” she whispers. “How could he… why…”
Belle is torn. Killian’s feelings aren’t for her to share, but it’s so obvious his leaving has broken Emma’s heart and Belle’s heart breaks for her. She has to give Emma something.
“Killian… he has some things to sort out,” she says. “A lot of anger. Unhealed scars from his childhood.”
“His brother,” says Emma automatically. Belle is surprised, she had no idea Killian told Emma about Liam.
“Yes,” she says. “And his parents.” Emma nods in understanding; so she knows that story too. “He just—” Belle thinks of how to say what Emma needs to hear without saying it. “He doesn’t have anything to offer another person right now.”
“He does,” says Emma fiercely. “He just doesn’t believe it.”
Belle studies the younger woman closely as realisation begins to dawn, wondering how Killian could possibly be so blind. She’s always known Emma cares for her nephew more than he is able to see, but this— this is a love as deep as Killian’s own. She tries to think of something to say, some comforting platitude to give, when Emma speaks again and floors her. “He wants to get away from her, doesn’t he?” She spits the pronoun with so much venom Belle is alarmed by the shift in her mood.
“Who?” she asks.
“The woman he loves.”  
“He told you he’s in love with someone?” Killian, it seems, has revealed rather a lot of very personal things to this woman he claims could never be interested in him.
“Yeah.” Emma’s face crumples and she finally sobs. “He did. Do you know who it is?” 
Belle can’t lie, not about this. “Yes,” she says. “But it’s not—”
“Not your secret to tell. I get it. But is she the reason why he…”
“Yes,” Belle replies. “To a large extent she is.”
Emma nods, sobbing harder, and her nose begins to drip. She sniffs and looks around for something to wipe it, and gratefully accepts the handkerchief Belle hands her. She dries her tears —for all the good it does as they don’t stop falling— and blows her nose then looks helplessly at the sodden mess of cloth in her hand.
“Keep it,” says Belle. “It’s one of Killian’s.” She doesn’t miss the way Emma’s fingers tighten on the small scrap of fabric.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and presses the handkerchief against her heart.
Killian, my lad, you’ve fucked things up something proper, thinks Belle.
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bensakindofmagic · 5 years
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Chapter Four
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A/N: things are starting to heat up a little... as always, if you want to be tagged just drop me a message, feedback always welcome/encouraged etc etc
Warnings: mentions of sex, bit of swearing
w/c: 2.2k+
Chapter Four
You and the guys were chowing down on some much needed lunch after a hectic morning of shooting, and finally had a moment to chat.
“So how’d it go last night, Ben?” Joe asked with faux lightness.
His cheeks looked a little flushed as he pushed his pasta around the plate. “Yeah good.”
“Oh come on, we need more detail than that!” Rami laughed.
“I hear you didn’t get back to your trailer until the small hours of this morning,” you grinned. “Must be exhausted.” You shot him a wink over the edge of your cup as you took a sip. Ben’s cheeks burnt bright red.
“Well well well, Mr Smooth Talker. So much for needing practice,” Joe said provocatively.
“Who needs practice when you’ve got bone structure like that?” Gwil chirped.
Ben chuckled, “Coming from you, mate.”
“Before you lot start making out with each other, can you actually tell us what happened?” you interjected.
“What is there to tell?” he asked between mouthfuls of food, “We had sex and then I left.”
“Oh come on! Where’s the romance?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it romantic.”
You rolled your eyes, “I want all the juicy details.”
“Well we chatted for a while, we went outside for some air, I kissed her, we went back to her place.”
“Oh my god, boys,” you muttered under your breath. “What was the sex like?”
“Is that what you were asking?” he spluttered.
You moaned, exasperated, “Of course that’s what I was asking.”
“It was good I suppose.”
“Ben, babe, for the love of god you’re going to have to do better than that.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly mortified, but you were desperate for details and had gone too far to turn back now. You prompted, “This was your first time sleeping with someone after your girlfriend, right? What was it like.”
He looked up at you, still embarrassed but it appeared as though he was willing to share, “Weird. Not bad, but strange. She felt... I dunno, different.” You nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I didn’t know what to do.” His cheeks flamed red as he realised what he’d said and quickly stammered, “I mean I knew what to do I just— I didn’t know what she liked, I got used to things with my ex and— oh shut up, Joe.”
You giggled as the guys ribbed him for his faux pas.
“Mate, if we need to have a chat about the birds and the bees just say,” Gwil mocked.
Joe quickly jumped on the bandwagon, “So the vagina is your main target, but you need to know where the clit is too—“
“Guys, give it up,” he groaned, cradling his head in his hands.
You decided to rescue him, “Keep going Ben. You said she was different.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled, glaring at the guys, “I couldn’t really read her. She was kinda shy too, so she didn’t tell me what she wanted either.”
He was met with a chorus of sympathetic grumbles, but did not continue. You looked at him expectantly but he stayed silent. “Is that it?”
He looked at you perplexed, “What else do you want me to say?”
You heaved a sigh, “Girls are so much better at this.”
“Okay, what do girls say then?” Joe challenged.
You shrugged, “The usual, you know, if he made you come, if he found your G spot, if he went down on you, how big his dick was—”
Joe spluttered and choked on his drink, “You talk about that?”
Your eyes shifted between them, confused at their reactions.
“I thought size didn’t matter,” Gwil offered.
“Oh no, it matters.” You were met with four expressions of mild horror, so you qualified, “It’s just not the most important thing. The most important thing is how you use what you’ve got. A big dick is a head start.”
“Your turn then,” Rami grinned, “Best sex you ever had.”
“Oh easy, my ex Matteo. I met him during my year in Italy and I swear to god there must be something in the water over there cause the things he could do with his tongue… No one else has made me quiver like he did.” The four of them were clearly taken aback by your openness, as they were staring at you open-mouthed. “He used to fucking worship me,” you said wistfully. So lost in your memories of him, you were oblivious to the way Ben’s grip tightened on his cutlery, knuckles white and jaw clenched fast.
“Am I interrupting?” Josh goaded as he came up behind you. “You guys are needed back on set.”
“Back to work, kiddos,” you said chirpily as you stood and marched off to set.
By the time the evening came around you were all shattered. The day had been gruelling to say the least, with things going wrong all over the place, meaning you were running around frantically and the guys had to do a load of extra takes. You hadn’t finished until the loss of sunlight forced you to stop. The five of you are gathered in Ben’s trailer, Friends on in the background, chatting somewhat lethargically. You were settled down next to Ben, blissfully unaware of your thighs brushing together. It was all he could think about.
“I don’t get why they made Chandler so bad with women. I think he’s hot, especially in the early seasons.”
“Huh, I would have thought you’d be a Joey girl,” Joe mused.
“Is that just because you have the same name?” you sassed in reply.
He chuckled, “You see right through me Y/N/N.”
“What’s your type then?” Gwil asked, not looking up from the bowl of granola he was cradling like it was his child.
“Well the only person I’ve ever been in love with was very classically Italian looking, but he was an anomaly. I guess I tend to go for blondes.” You felt Ben shift beside you, puffing out his chest.
“Is that so?” he smirked, cocking an eyebrow at you.
“Don't even joke Benjamin, your face is so goddamn pretty, it hurts me.”
You focused your attention on the TV, but you could feel his satisfaction radiating from his body. “What if I want to tempt you?”
The rest of the guys were exchanging looks, feeling rather like they were intruding on a private conversation.
“Don’t be cruel, babe. You know that’s not allowed,” you joked sleepily.
“Why not?”
You didn’t hear the seriousness in his tone, or the longing.
“If Josh can’t have me then neither can you.” You shuffled down in the seat, shifting your body so you could nestle into his side. You rested your head on his shoulder and let your eyes get heavy. “Lord knows I could rock your world, but alas, only in my dreams.”
Ben watched you fall asleep on him, drinking in the way your chest rose and fell heavily, and the way your eyes fluttered behind your eyelids; you looked so peaceful. He revelled in the feeling of your warmth against him. Despite all the warnings in his head, he allowed himself to imagine you were his, to picture the look in your eyes as you would wake and meet his own green ones, lids heavy. He would kiss your forehead and you would smile softly, and whisper that he was in your dream. It throbbed painfully in his heart when he reminded himself that it was his own beautiful dream, that you would wake and walk away from him. You shifted in your sleep and pressed your head further into the crook of his neck. It took all his strength not to stroke your cheek, not to kiss you.
“You look cute together,” Rami said. Ben just smiled sadly.
“Come on man,” Joe sighed, “Look at yourself, you’re desperate for her. You have to tell her how you feel.”
Ben shook his head, battling to speak through the tightness in his chest, and whispered, “I can’t. I’m not ready.”
The guys nodded with reluctant understanding, and dropped the subject. One by one they filtered back to their own trailers for a good night’s sleep before what would undoubtedly be another busy day to come. You didn’t wake until they were all gone and Ben shifted, rousing you. You looked around the empty trailer.
“Shit, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said quietly.
“Where is everyone,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.
“Gone to bed.”
“Fuck Ben, I’m so sorry. You should have woken me, told me to piss off.”
He smiled with the corner of his mouth, “I couldn’t bear to, you looked so tired.”
“Busy day,” you nodded. He mirrored your action. He seemed so lost in thought, and he smiled to himself, that way that you smile when you think about someone you love.
“Tell me about her,” you said abruptly.
“Who?”
“This woman, this person you have feelings for. What makes her so special?”
“Why are you asking?” he queried.
“I’m curious. Indulge me.” A blush crept onto his cheeks and his gaze fell into his lap, suddenly enthralled with the hem of his jumper. He shrugged.
“Oh come on, we’re friends right? You can talk to me. I promise I won’t make fun of you.”
He met your eyes and you saw trepidation, but behind that it was clear how much he wanted to tell you, to let everything out that he had been holding inside.
“How did you meet her?” you prompted gently.
“Work,” he replied monosyllabically. This wasn’t going to be easy but you sensed that he needed to get things off his chest, to be allowed to talk about himself for a while, and release the things that were heavy in his mind out into the world. This girl was one of them.
“What’s her name?”
He hesitated, then said tentatively, “I’m not ready to tell you that yet.”
That seemed a little strange to you, and suggested that you knew her, or at least knew of her. But, not wanting to pry, you brushed aside any instinctive overthinking. You decided to go for a more abstract approach, and ventured, “What’s your favourite thing about her?”
Without missing a beat he replied, “How much she cares. She notices things, and remembers. She catches the words that go unsaid, and she makes sure you know that you’re seen and heard. She lets you know that she’s there, she takes the time to care.”
A sweet smile danced behind his eyes and tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was obvious that he was smitten. Just the thought of this girl made him happy, and a pang of longing throbbed in your chest as you wished someone would think of you that way.
You were perfectly happy being single; you found fulfilment through friends and work, and were very capable of satisfying your personal needs (or finding someone else to do it for you). However, it had been a while since anyone had thought of you that way, or looked at you with the all the affection swirling in Ben’s eyes. It would be nice to be cherished by someone other than yourself.
“She's passionate too. When something is important to her she cares so deeply. It’s the way she pipes up in conversation, you know?” he gave a small chuckle, “like she just can’t let it slide. Like she can’t contain everything she feels.”
It warmed you to see him smile like that, like the whole world glowed when he was around her.
“She sounds pretty amazing.”
When his eyes met yours there was a gold in their green. His lips hung open, plump with desire, and is tongue probed his bottom lip hesitantly. His self-assured demeanour had been stripped back to reveal a tender vulnerability, and all the hunger for him that you had been telling yourself wasn’t there flared in the pit of your stomach, angry and inescapable. You sucked in a breath. Jealously simmered like hot acid in your stomach, acrid and vitriolic; it left an ugly taste in your mouth.
It was absolutely not allowed. He was a coworker; the majority of your day was spent getting him coffee. Sleeping with him would very much be looked down upon, and should anything more happen and the situation go south, you would be branded in the industry. It could cost you your career, which was a risk you were not willing to take. You had worked far too hard to get to where you were now, both in your work and in yourself, to risk it for a guy.
But the thought of those green eyes raking over your naked body, those plump lips leaving open mouthed kisses along your neck and collar bones, instead of licking his lips, licking your…
You barely realised you were panting, and took a deep, steadying breath.
Enough, Y/N, he’s off limits.
You stood, turning to the door. “I should get to bed, I’m knackered. Obviously,” you tried to titter casually. He replied with a subdued smile.
“Sure, 'night.”
“Goodnight Ben.”
The second you got outside you took a deep breath of the night air, relishing the feel of it running down your throat like liquid silver. You let it soothe you, and made for your own trailer. You would decide what to do in the morning.
tags:
@anikatcmh @queen-turtle-boiii @orchideax @rogerspoison @my5secondsofneverland @mrsmazzello @ixchel-9275 @radiob-l-a-hblah @devin-marie
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nightklok · 5 years
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Chapters: 1/? 
Fandom: Descendants (Disney Movies) 
Rating: Teen And Up 
Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply 
Relationships: Gil/Jay (Disney: Descendants) 
Characters: Gil (Disney: Descendants), Jay (Disney), Audrey (Disney: Descendants), Carlos de Vil, Celia Facilier, Dizzy Tremaine, Harry Hook, Uma (Disney) 
Additional Tags: Volunteering at an animal shelter, Fluff, Light Angst, Implied abuse, Implied animal abuse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added 
Summary: (¼ of an anon’s request of Jay getting Gil a pet. After a year of traveling around the world and settling down in Auradon, Jay and Gil decide to volunteer at an animal shelter. A particular cat catches Gil’s eyes. Chaos ensues.
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britneyshakespeare · 6 years
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tagged by my love @r3nton 💗💞 i hope u’ve been doin well zuki we haven’t talked in awhile and i miss you
1. what song’s stuck in your head right now?
oh oh cheri by francoise hardy but i also happen to be listening to tous les garcon in full again
2. what was the first word you learned to read and to write?
love :) that’s really cute now that i think about it
3. what would you like to change about yourself?
i could think of a lot of things. i am very far from perfect. but perhaps one of the simplest but most effective would be if i could just zap away my social anxiety. i can’t help but ponder on what kind of person i’d have grown up to be if i weren’t so painfully shy my whole life.
4. what was the last movie you saw? what did you think of it?
i can’t remember off the top of my head. i’ve not been watching many movies lately. i think the last thing i watched was mean girls with one of my brothers and my sister? i had seen it before, but i actually didn’t watch that movie for the first time till i was like, 17, and it was kinda boring because i already had heard just about every single joke in it from pop culture. it’s a good movie but i think it’s just over-referenced. it is undeniably funny.
5. what’s the dreamiest song you’ve ever heard?
i always say it but is ar eireann ni neosainn ce hi by mary o’hara. i’ll try to add an alternative then. how about... counting by marianne faithfull. dindi by astrud gilberto. la vie en rose by edith piaf. world of chances by demi lovato. now we’ve got some nice language variety in options.
6. what makes you happy?
lots of things! animals, poetry, music, other people when the mood strikes me. cheesy sitcoms. shakespeare plays. you know :-)
7. what makes you sad?
i don’t know that i can be made sad by external causes. or, i don’t know, maybe it’s just a recovering-from-mental-illness thing. surely things can trigger me, but, idk. that’s not really what this question means to me. ordinary disappoints just don’t bother me all that much; i’ve dealt with worse.
8. what makes you unbearably angry/annoyed?
uhhhh the noises people make w their mouths when they eat, and willful ignorance. quite a combination.
9. who do you wanna be more like?
uhm. most of my role models tend to be complicated older women who have tragic/mysterious pasts. this extends from celebrities like marianne faithfull, to women from my own family. i guess that’s the best option i have to grow into, considering that now i am a complicated younger woman with a tragic/mysterious past (or present? you decide). whatever. i just wanna be someone who makes it through, and so far i’m not doing too bad.
10. what are you looking forward to?
hmmm. that sabrina the teenage witch reboot comes out at the end of the month. i’m definitely going to watch it. i have no idea how i’m gonna like it, the trailer doesn’t really tell me that much about the things that could make or break it for me. if salem doesn’t talk and isn’t bisexual then that’s definitely some points off. i really hope they don’t lean in too hard to the ‘take this stuff, which is adapted from a series of comics originating in the 1960s, very very seriously’ stuff and that it’s more like buffy, where there’s a grounded main plot and great characters, but there’s also lighthearted humor and camp so that the heavy stuff has room to breathe. i know it’s from a related team to riverdale, which i haven’t watched and i have no idea how closely those two shows will be associated with each other (like how sabrina and the archie gang have had crossovers in the comics many-a-time). but from what i do know about riverdale i wanna be wary, but also, i have heard some good criticism of that show from people whose opinions i trust? can it be really that bad? i’m not going to watch it to find out because i’m not interested anyway. but. all i need to know is, is the sabrina reboot going to be any good? i have no idea. can’t wait to find out because i’m already so emotionally invested in it anyway.
i probably should’ve answered that with something more profound but this has been weighing on my mind ever since i read the casting call for this show, like, a year ago.
11. what’s your favourite halloween movie?
don’t know if it counts as a halloween movie really, but american psycho. i also love the original novel it’s based on, as well.
my questions:
1) When’s the last time you wrote something for pleasure?
2) Do you think about the weather?
3) Do you have any unconscious biases you just can’t get over?
4) What’s your favorite book you’ve ever been assigned to read?
5) Do you believe in the concept of guilty pleasures? Do you have any?
6) What’s the last compliment you gave someone?
7) What’s your favorite theme song of a TV show?
8) What’s the strangest band/musical artist you regularly listen to?
9) Do you have a favorite poem or poet?
10) If you could acquire fluency in any 3 languages immediately, which would you choose?
11) Of the five senses (hearing, smelling, seeing, tasting, feeling), which is your favorite?
i’ll tag @shecomesincolors @nospoonsgiven @sneez @pavlovers @a-stringofpearls @bohemian-brian @buddyhollyscurls @mylittlehappy @beatlesgirlfab @yerawizardjimmeh and @uhohitsthecops if they’re interested
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ilovejacksonswang · 7 years
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8 Questions Tag :)
I was tagged by @nct-aeyonq who is highkey relatable and a really awesome person and a great content creator and wow I really look up to you and I’m always admiring from a far hey hello 
But yes here are my answers :)
1: If you could say one sentence to your bias, what would it be?
Probably a really long run on sentence to get in how much he means to me and how much I love him. Probably something like, “Hey, the way you work hard and go after the things that you want is really so inspiring to me and motivates me to be a better person so thank you for being you and for being so caring to those around you and to your fans because it’s helped me through tough times and did I mention I love you please stay healthy take care of yourself you lovely human being.”
2:  What was the first Kpop MV you ever saw?
I’m crying laughing the first ever K-pop MV I saw was A-Cha by Super Junior and it was back when I was in middle school. I think it was after I watched a Kev Jumba video and he played a clip of that song and I just loved it so much I went to go find it and when I did I fell in love with the song and high key biased Kyuhyun (but I didn’t even know what a bias was at the time) but I never really ever got into Kpop as a whole, I just listened to a couple of SuJu songs. Flash-forward a few years and BTS dope and blood sweat and tears threw me down the Kpop hole. 
3: If you could spend one day with three Kpop idols, who would they be?
This is easy but also sO HARD I’M IFFDFNJERBJSJRFERIRHWBE. The first three that came to mind were Jackson Wang (obvi), Wonho (honestly I love him too far too much he wrecked me so bad), and Young K (EDLLFHLFLDFB I LOVE THIS BOY SO MUCH I’M SO SOFT AND WEAK FOR HIM). Runners up are Yuta, Yugyeom, and Chanyeol. 
4:If you were a Kpop song, which one would you be and why?
ok so this is gonna get real deep real fast and I’m gonna be completely candid here. I wish I could say I were a song that’s upbeat and hype and happy like a lot of Monsta X’s songs or like a Got7 love song, but I would say that the song that’s most me or like me or speaks my truth is actually a song by a group that’s not my bias group and who I don’t like actively follow anymore. So Far Away by BTS’s Min Suga is the song I would say is most me. Now, I don’t take what it means to say that song is me lightly. For a good portion of my life, I suffered from clinically diagnosed depression, a battle that I’m still currently fighting. I also have a low grade anxiety that makes it really hard for me to reach out and talk to people so for the longest time I suffered alone, I know what it’s like when the lyrics of this song talk about not having a dream and having no out from a life you never asked for, but constantly and always wondering “Why am I here?”. I don’t want to get too deep about this stuff because it’s quite triggering and I want this to be happy, so I won’t say too much more except for the fact that I’m doing so much better. Seeing a psychiatrist, going on medication for a short while, and my friends really helped me get to a place where I don’t feel like the walking dead, where I’m not crying every night, shutting my family and friends out, hurting myself, and living my life like I’m ready to die. It’s still scary, being given a future I never thought I’d have, but Min Suga can do it, I can too. So, this song really means a lot to me. There’s always a chance at happiness, and I’ve learned that. That’s why I would say this song is most me. If you have a dream, go for it and never let others tell you you can’t do something. Never deprive yourself the chance to get better, the chance to be happy. 
5:  Have you ever been to a concert, and if yes, who did you see?
I’ve never been to a ~Kpop~ concert but I’ve been to plenty of concerts for some american bands that I love and some that I used to be into but am not so much anymore! I’ve seen The Ready Set, Bullet For My Valentine, Stars in Stereo, Black Veil Brides, Of Mice and Men, Ghost Town, Bring Me the Horizon, and when I went to Warped tour I saw Falling in Reverse, The Maine, Issues (for the second time I saw them first when they went on tour with another band), and Sleeping With Sirens (I passed out from heat exhaustion during their stage tho I hope it still counts). I finally got tickets to go see All Time Low in December, a band I’ve been dying to see since Sophomore year of Highschool so I’m very excited for that and hopefully I’ll get these Day6 tickets!!!
6: What’s one thing you wish people knew about you?
I’m really not trying to be hard to approach and I really do want to talk to you, it’s just that I get so nervous when I talk to people and I start to second guess everything and it makes it really hard for me to make friends. I can’t even count the amount of times someone has talked to me or said something to me and I’m so excited they’re talking to me and so happy that they actually chose to speak words to me but I just nod or smile in response because I’m too nervous to say anything. That goes with messages too, I’m not ignoring anyone or not tagging you guys in stuff because I don’t like you, I’m just really so painfully awkward and shy and anxious to talk to anyone.
7: Favorite food?
I’m desi so you already know I love my Biryani *heart eyes*. In terms of american food, though, I love fries. Anything potato. It’s my weakness. And pasta. I just love complex carbs. 
8: What talent do you wish you had, but don’t?
literally anything I’ll take anything I’m not talented at anything I’ll take any talent I can even if it’s the ability to play a kazoo with my nostrils Ok but this is hard because there’s so much I want to do. Probably the ability to pick languages up easily because I would love to talk to everyone in the world and it feels really good to talk to people in their mother tongues, and to understand what their saying. I used to volunteer at this food bank when I was in high school and taking AP Spanish and whenever they had someone who couldn’t speak english, I would talk to them in Spanish and jut seeing their faces transform seeing that someone is making the effort to talk to them and understand them, that was the best feeling. They would always appreciate it so much and I love talking in other languages. 
Thank you for tagging me!! I really don’t think you’ll understand how much it means to me but it really does mean a lot to me, especially when it’s so hard for me to talk to people, so thank you :) I hope you have a lovely day, and please don’t mind when I spam like/reblog things from your blog I just think you’re really cool 
My Questions for the people I tag: 
1. Where do you see yourself in 10 years and what do you hope to accomplish? 
2. What made you decide that your bias group just had to be your bias group?
3. What are the qualities you admire most in your bias and why/ which of those qualities do you wish to have?
4. What are your top 3 bias groups and your favorite eras for those groups? 
5. What is your fave hair color your ult bias has dyed their hair and would you ever dye your hair that color? 
6. If you had to choose one song to listen to for the rest of your life, which one would it be? 
7. What are your 3 happiest memories? 
8. What fictional place/world would you most like to live in or visit? 
Here are all the people I’m tagging and please don’t feel obligated to do this if you don’t want to but I would love to see your answers! @super-saiyan-taeyong, @redgyeomie, @markiepoohismysunshine, @jacksonwangblog, @elaineyysenpai, @stan-the-best-stan-monsta-x and some of my followers I see in my notifications a lot I see you and I appreciate you, let’s get to know each other? :) @bapinspirit97 @fengarifood
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kyberled · 7 years
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the question america is dying to know the answer to: does braig like to dance? HOW DOES HE DANCE?
Ask Me For Metas || ALWAYS ACCEPTING
Okay, if you want to know the truth? Kiddo here absolutely adores dancing, just… Not when it’s in public. He tries so hard to come across as a serious, respectable young man, and a proper Jedi, so finds dancing to be childish and almost embarrassing. Being as small as he is, and with how many people call him ‘cute’ on average, it’s very difficult for him to get respect from a lot of people (he sometimes has a hard enough time convincing them he’s a Jedi).
But, like with most people, his behaviour is influenced heavily by where he is, how comfortable he is in that situation, and who happens to be around him. His acquaintances and people he doesn’t know well, or even friends he’s not particularly close to, probably won’t ever see him dance, barring formal events (which I’ll discuss a bit later). Even adults he’s beyond comfortable with, like Obi-Wan, probably aren’t going to see it, since he, again, finds it kind of childish. He wants them to be proud of him, after all. But if he’s in a good enough mood, not worn out from missions or the daily grind, and is in somewhere not out in the open with his friends (and, of course, it’s not meditation time or whatever), he might dance around a bit. It’s fun and good for a laugh, and ties into a few jokes they’ve exchanged in the past. 
Of course, it also depends on whether or not he has good music. Braig doesn’t know a lot of good dance songs - Jedi, after all - and almost nothing up-to-date. It’s possible that he might hear some when he’s out and about walking in the city, but, given that he’s walking around the Senate district near the Temple, also known as the poncy, upper-class, fancy, nice part of Galactic City, the chances of him hearing all that much dance music is slim to none. It’s probably more likely he heard it on missions to Coruscant’s underbelly, or other similarly seedy locales. Maybe on the radios the men sometimes have. (It’s worth noting that Auren gave Braig a radio in a Life Day ask, but, in the main canon timeline, chances are he doesn’t have any of the gifts he’s received. Jedi are essentially monks, and not known for their material possessions, after all.) But, sometimes, hearing only those little snippets, or the obnoxious background ambience when they’re investigating a club, is more than enough to get a song stuck in his head. As frustrating as it is, you can catch him humming along to it and at the very least tapping his fingers or sort of nodding from side to side while he’s working on something quiet in his room, like writing in his journal, pressing flowers, or fixing/modifying his sabers. 
Now, on to formal events, like waltzes, social gatherings, and those fancy little galas and gatherings that politicians attend. Braig never gets invited to these things as a guest; in fact, Braig never gets invited to them full-stop. He goes because Obinobi gets called in to be security, and Braig, as his padawan, just tags along. I’m not gonna get too into his feelings on these types of thing, but I will say that he feels that participating isn’t really a Jedi thing to do. Chances are he’d rather be securing the perimeter or keeping his eyes on the guests entire. In truth, he’s a shy little thing when it comes to being asked to dance, especially since the sort of dancing you’d get at a formal event is very handsy and touchy - Either Braig does not know the person well enough to be comfortable with that amount of contact, or it’s someone he knows (re: another Jedi) and he thinks it’s awkward and a waste of time, OR it’s someone he’s crushing on and he WOULD be fine with lil touches, but they’re in PUBLIC and he’s a JEDI so he’s trying very hard not to turn bright red and probably focusing more on keeping his shields up so people can’t sense the emotions whipping around him than he is focusing on dancing, so any skill he might have is gone and he might come off as a bit of a klutz which only makes it worse??? (Though, in private, he might find dancing with his SO to be kind of romantic. Depends on the setting and such, obvi. He’d 100% cuddle up to a taller romantic partner if they were slow-dancing alone and just let them lead while he relaxes for a bit.)
HOW Braig dances is a different story. It’s pretty difficult to describe, since, unless we assume he learned how as part of cultures/etiquette classes, he was never actually taught by anyone. So he doesn’t know how to do any ‘actual’ dances - No foxtrots, waltzes, and it’s probably painfully obvious I was never taught how to dance, either. But, from experience, martial artists usually make damn good freestyle dancers? Guess it’s a mix of flexibility, strength, balance, stuff like that, and for Jedi, who go through rigorous training from about the time they’re walking, we’ve seen the stuff they can pull off as kiddos. So I mean, I assume he can be very graceful and fluid when he wants to, as a result of that training, but if he’s not comfortable, you can see his movements will be a bit stiffer, a bit less natural. I suppose even a clumsy Jedi would be ethereal by our standards, but, yeah, I guess we could say he treats the movement the same as forms, for the most part. One of the perks to being small, as he’s always thought, is being agile and light on his feet, so, I imagine he could be quite good… If he wasn’t so awkward about it, and ever got taught.
Of course, it’s also important to realise this depends on verse. Braig in any of his Sith verses thinks dancing is beneath him; Young/Alt Sith Braig just flat out refuses to do it, and an older Sith Braig will only do it if he thinks it would be useful to charm or manipulate someone. Jedi Braig has, fortunately, shed a lot of his insecurities, so he has no qualms dancing at a party (or to embarrass his padawans). He’ll still get a bit shy or flushed if he’s dancing with someone he has feelings for, but, he’ll dance. Rogue Braig? Well, obviously, it depends on verses, but in canon? He’s usually too drunk to care. There are some days where he just says ‘kriff it’ and some clubs where it seems a good way to blend in, so. Either one is a good reason to him. Who’s there to impress? Everyone he knew is dead. Modern Braig doesn’t have to worry about being a Jedi, either, so heck, this kid will dance for fun. He’s big on musical theatre, too, so. (But, catch him down town listening to the street musicians, paying them a few dollars and dancing with his friends on the weekend. It’s fun for him).
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astralaffairs · 4 years
Text
french vanilla 01 | gilbert lafayette TEASER
title: french vanilla 01
pairing: lafayette x reader
words: approx 6k; this is probably going to shake out to be a trilogy :)
warnings: abundant sexual innuendos, hand fetish lowkey, maria reynolds’s abs, hugh grant mentions, painfully thick sexual tension -- FULL PART DROPS AT 4 PM EDT
desc: you can’t quite place it – maybe it’s his unchecked confidence, or maybe it’s just his arms – but there’s something about your new dance instructor that makes your palms sweat and your head spin – which is, unfortunately for you, not the best combination while suspended two yards above the floor.
tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudywlw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow  @siriusorionblackiii— lmk if you want to be added
You took a deep breath as you examined the door in front of you, the sign on it confirming that you were in the right place, despite the fact that you -- though you'd never admit it -- desperately hoped you weren't. You'd signed up for pole dancing classes on something of a dare, when you joking about it with your friends lead to you being challenged to really try it. And you never backed down from a challenge.
So there you stood, only feet from the door that determined the next two hours (and two hours every Tuesday and Thursday for the next six weeks) of your fate, ponytail tied tight at the back of your head, still just a bit sore from spending the past few weeks since you'd signed up trying to improve your upper body strength. (You'd quickly found out that you despised lifting, as well as that you were not in nearly good enough shape to continue doing it without every one of your joints aching for the following week.)
Your eyes darted to the clock that hung from the wall to your left, swallowing hard when you saw that if you didn't move soon, you'd be late. As much as you didn't particularly want to pole dance, you wanted even less to be late to pole dancing classes.
You reluctantly entered, less than thrilled to find the class both relatively small (you wouldn't be able to hide at the back just to tell your friends you'd gone) and filled mostly with fairly attractive women in their twenties and thirties. And just like that, you remembered why you preferred not to leave the house.
You dropped your gym bag off to the side near the door, bringing only your water bottle with you, and made your way toward the mass of people in the middle of the room, all stretching and chatting. All right, this wasn't so bad. You could work with chatty women.
"Hey." You approached one on the edge nearest to you, seemingly zeroed in on what she was doing, long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, only having donned leggings and a matching sports bra. "Mind if I sit?" She looked up at your hopeful, if not slightly anxious, smile, and her expression brightened.
"Of course!" Her reply came slightly breathlessly, seeming surprised at your presence, but welcoming nonetheless. She nodded her head toward the space next to her, scooting over just a few inches, but the gesture wasn't lost on you. You gave her a warm smile as you took a seat on the polished hardwood floor, reaching out to stretch one leg. "First time?"
You turned your head to her with wide eyes. Was it that obvious? "Oh! Um, yeah. I'm kind of here on a dare, so we'll see how this turns out," you said with a nervous laugh, "What gave it away?"
She just smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Might just take one to know one," she confessed, "I took a one-session beginners' class a few weeks ago with some friends, but I'm the only one who stuck around, so I think we're in the same boat right now."
You grinned at her. "Y'know what they say; two shipmates are better than one."
"Do they?"
You shared a slight laugh as you held your knee up toward your chest, extending your free hand toward her in greeting. "Y/N."
"Maria." She gladly took your hand, meeting your eyes with a friendly gaze, and you decided then and there that you liked Maria. Besides, you felt safer knowing that you had an ally going into this.
A loud clap and the shuffling of hands came from the front of the room, attracting all your attention. "Alright, ladies!" You lifted your head, breaking her gaze, to look curiously up at the source of the deep French accent, who was also presumably your instructor. Your eyes widened.
You'd been surprised enough that your instructor was a man. Registration had only given you a last name, and while you supposed the class hadn't specified that it was just for women, the lack of men attending the class made it feel strange that it was being taught by one. That wasn't the main source of your surprise, though. The man standing in front of you all as you sat up was, to be quite blunt, gorgeous. He had dark skin and a gorgeous smile, curls pulled back in an unruly bun, arms bulging through the sleeves of his less-than-loose t-shirt. If you'd been nervous before, it was nothing compared to how you felt then.
"It is good to see all of you eager and ready to get right into things. I am your instructor, Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch, Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, but I am not expecting any of you to remember all of zat, so please, call me Lafayette," he greeted you all warmly, and you thanked whatever god was up there that he was the instructor, letting out a soft sigh. Otherwise, you thought, your gaze drifting down to the outline of his abs, the staring would probably have weirded him out by now. Though, you realized only moments later that you still weren't quite safe of that as you looked back up to his face, only to find him watching you as he spoke, an eyebrow cocked. You swallowed hard. From that point, though, while he continued talking, his smile didn't revert back from the smirk it'd become.
"I 'ave been a trained pole dancer for nearly seven years now, and 'ave been giving classes for more than three, so I can assure you zat you are in good 'ands with me." You had no doubt about that as he folded his arms across his chest, and you eyed the bulging veins in his forearms, his large hands -- perhaps being attracted to his hands bordered on skeevy, but your moral compass wasn't at the forefront of your mind just then. You couldn't help but admire his physique. "I will be spending ze next several weeks with you building your skills up from ze fundamentals into full pieces of choreography, 'elping you every step of ze way. You will become skilled pole dancers in zis class, although 'ow you choose to use zat skill is entirely up to you."
He gave a playful grin at that, eliciting a laugh from most of the women in the class, though Maria and you shared a weary glance.
"But no matter your choice," he finished, "I look forward to getting to know and to work with each and every one of you." He met your eyes as he said that, and while you couldn't imagine the words could've been directed at you, the intensity of his gaze had you tugging your bottom lip in between your teeth.
You could be in for a long six weeks.
Beyond that, though, you quickly learned that pole dancing was not nearly as easy as you hoped it would be, nor as easy as Lafayette (and surprisingly, Maria, though you should've seen it coming based on the size of her arms and her very prominent abs) made it look.
"Back straight, Y/N," Lafayette commented as he passed you. He'd learned your name about fifteen minutes earlier and had since used it on every opportunity he'd had to visit your side of the room. "Keep your hips out; it will make it easier to 'old ze structure of ze position." You huffed, pushing your chest forward and your hips back, your arms shaking as you struggled to hold yourself up, let alone maintain proper form. "Perfect. Now loosen your grip a little bit; swing your legs slowly around ze pole."
"I'm gonna fall if I do," you whined breathlessly, focused on your own conquest to not bruise your tailbone too much to glance up and take notice of how he was watching you. He laughed.
"Just try it. Do not worry so much." While you scowled, trying to pull yourself up a bit so as to have more room to slide down as you tried to swing around the pole, you heard heavy footsteps approaching you from behind. "'ere. Let me 'elp you."
You inhaled sharply as you felt Lafayette rest his hands on your hips. You glanced back nervously over your shoulder, found his face only inches from yours, a small smile resting on his lips, and you gulped, turning back.
"Go ahead; I will not let you fall. You can trust me." While you could feel your heart rate increase in the close proximity, your face heating up, you let out a shaky breath and nodded. You could feel his warm breath dancing over the skin of your neck as you loosened your grip on the pole, sliding down a few uneven inches, and began swinging your legs off to the side, little by little.
"Careful, chérie," his voice came from behind you, hardly a breath over your shoulder as his grip tightened on your hips, pads of his fingers pressing ever so slightly into your skin. He pushed you slightly forward as you slowly went through the motions. "Ah! Back straight."
You could still hear his grin in his voice but could do little more than scowl in your struggle. You pursed your lips, arched your back, and the pressure from his fingertips began to ease as you reached a suspended sitting position next to the pole, using your momentum to swing yourself around.
"Bon travail, Y/N," he said softly, his lips only a breath from your ear as he pulled back. Your heart pounded, grip still shaking, though you weren't sure anymore that it was only from struggling to stay up.
He went back to wandering through the rows of women, shouting tips and encouragement over the music with a wide smile, and it took all of your willpower to not stare at his retreating form. You repeated the move a few times, making sure you could get it on your own, watched the ease with which Maria seemed to go through it. Eventually, your face stopped burning (you didn't like having to admit to yourself why it'd started), and you went on with the choreography, Lafayette demonstrating the next moves. Your eyes widened as you realized how little you had of the skill the rest of the dance needed.
"Now do not worry, everyone," he called out, as everyone sat on the floor in front of him, drinking some water and resting. "I know 'ow intimidating zis looks right now, but none of you are expected to get it on ze first try." His words did little to comfort you as you glanced around the room, knew most of these women would probably be able to pull it off better than you would.
"And if you cannot seem to get it after a while, remember: I am 'ere to be your teacher. You can always," --he caught your eye at those words, the corners of his lips quirking up in a mischievous smile-- "Always, ask for 'elp." He shot you a wink at the end of his sentence, and while most of the women had already begun chattering to those around them (you caught snippets about not minding him helping them out, if you knew what they meant), you couldn't break his gaze, a chill running down your spine.
You couldn't quite place it just yet -- maybe it was his unchecked confidence, the tempter integral to his person, or maybe it was just his arms -- but there was something about your new dance instructor that made your palms sweat and your head spin -- which was, unfortunately for you, not the ideal combination while trying not to fall on your ass, suspended two yards above the floor.
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