#actively noticing what the other person is missing or needs and compensating in a way that feels very natural and like teamwork

[notjanine]

another casual party over the weekend.

i pick them up from work so we can go together. the temperature’s dropped, so i’ve brought their coat- after i filled the pockets with snacks because they’ve been working all day and i’m not sure there’ll be food at the party.

after we get there, i realize that i didn’t time my meds and caffeine correctly and i am notttt in the mood. i just chill out in the loudest corner, by the music, and read pubmed articles on my phone. there aren’t enough cups, so one guy volunteers to run to the store and Books goes with. they bring me back some cold brew—black, no sweetener—exactly what i need. they have fun and catch up with their friends while i spend most of the evening reading about traumatic brain injuries and olfactory dysfunction and trigeminal nerve stimulation (electrical AND chemosensory!), sipping bitter dark coffee from my red solo cup. they check in with me periodically, bring me a big soft chocolate chip cookie when i need a hit of sugar, sit with me when they want a quiet moment.

they get a little wine drunk and it’s very cute. i drive us home. we stay up way too late so we can enjoy some alone time together. everything is warm and i’m in love

i’ll stop talking about this mf eventually but like okay. i hate being taken care of. 99% of the time, i HATE being taken care of. but i am also not naturally skilled at social stuff, like i’ve learned and i can do it and i’m good at it now, but—iiiii hate to admit it—but i’ve always wanted to be with someone who can like. take the driver’s seat, socially. and Bookstore just knows exactly how to shine the spotlight on me in a group setting. sometimes i get so overwhelmed taking everything in that i forget to talk even when i have relevant things to add! but they know just when to say Oh al said/did/made me watch/read/listen to xyz, and then give me the space to elaborate. or they’ll be more subtle and say like [Nearby person who likes something i like], have you seen/do you know about [specific thing they know i love] and it’s. gosh it’s really nice. also they are very big and warm. gosh

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

this just popped into my mind at like 3am last night so here we go, imagine edging sebastian on his heat and he’s just really desperate and stuff? ok i’ll go now

Those are some really good thoughts, thanks for sharing em!!

(Pic by @haroksan !)

Sebastian (edg/ing, heat cycle, (light) cock slapping, (light) pact play, sq/uirting (m receiving), )

Spring was such a wonderful time of year, things started to bloom, the animals are more active since there’s more food, and you get to see baby animals! You never thought much of how it was for the animals, just admiring them was fun, unfortunately you don’t get to watch them as often as you used too.

Your butler, Sebastian, always got so troublesome this time a year…He only wanted to have sex, nothing else, he’d get so damn whiny if you ignored him. You enjoyed the extra affection from him, but you valued your personal space more. You had made him tell you what was wrong after the first day, he struggled with basic task and it was worrisome.

When he told you he was in heat, how could you not use that as ammo against him? Especially after the sight you’d just walked in on, Sebastian had shoved a pillow between his legs, letting one hand hold the pillow while he has the other hand holding a pillow close to him. With a quick glance you can tell he’s biting the other pillow to try and muffle his whines.

His clothes were in shreds on the floor, if you had to guess, he hat impatient trying to take them off. You don’t miss the way his hips snap forward, dragging his cock against the pillow. The demon seemed to have not noticed you yet, so you use the opportunity to sneak closer to him.

You wouldn’t mind if he was in one of the bedrooms, but he’s not, he’s in the living room humping a coach pillow. You have to hold back a laugh at the pathetic growl he gives when the pillow between his legs slips, leaving him to hurriedly trying to shove it back in place.

With the way he keeps squirming around, you can see the pillow under him is completely ruined, it is covered in his pre, he hasn’t even realized that theres a small puddle forming underneath him.

You can tell he’s getting close, his hips speed up and you can’t help but worry that he’ll chafe his poor little cock if you don’t intervene, after all, a good Master takes care of their things, right?

“Sebastian. Stop.”

He freezes in an instant, a weak whimper escapes him. He makes no attempt to cover himself, instead he rolls onto his back, now facing you, his hair is a mess, half of it is sticking to his face and the other half is all sticking out, as if he just got out of bed.

“M-master, please-“ Sebastian whines, hand slipping down to stroke himself. You close the door behind you, the door has no lock, but the two of you were alone anyway. You knelt down beside him, throwing the pillow to the side, grimacing at the wet sound it made when it hit the ground.

With a better view, you can see how desperate he is. His cock is bright red towards the tip, leaking pre consistently. You don’t even need lube, grabbing his cock and stroking him. “Naughty boy, touching yourself when I’m not around? You know better that that.” You pinched just under the head of his cock, earning a gasp. “Maybe I should punish you for this…”

Sebastian growled, though it melted into a moan when you thumbed the head of his cock, you can see how he’s shaking from just a little contact. “P-please, Master, need you…” Sebastian pulls you into a rough kiss, nipping your lip when you tried to pull away.

You stop your strokes, instead giving his cock a light smack. Sebastian whines out a few things you don’t catch. Your hand grabs his cock roughly, pumping him at a brisk pace. “You ruined that pillow, Sebastian. Maybe I should ruin your orgasm as compensation?” You purr out, grinning at the worried look he gives you.

“I-I didn’t mean to-“

He cuts himself off with a shaky sob, as your hand had gripped the base of his cock harshly. “I’m sure you didn’t mean it,” You purr out, your other hand now flat against the tip of his cock, rubbing quick circles. “You just got a lil excited, huh? Needed a little extra attention?”

Sebastian mewls, nodding. Your hand gripping his cock is the only thing stopping him from bucking against you, his cock bobbing eagerly in your grip. He’s close, you can feel it in how his cock is pulsing in your grip. Your grip tighten at the base, so much so that Sebastian yelps at the sudden contact, quickly trying to shove your hand away, only for it to result in his cock getting tugged on painfully.

You stop after a few more seconds of torture, letting go of his cock completely. Sebastian shakedown a bit, trying to figure out if he wants if it would be worth it to finish himself off, but before he could do anything, slap his cock roughly.

To your surprise, it bobbed and shot out a little but of cum onto his stomach. You grinned, rewarding him with a couple strokes. “Good boy! That was so cute!” Your hand let go of his cock after he whined about being close.

Sebastian whimpered, thrusting against nothing. He was panting so heavily you decided to give him a bit to catch his breath. You ignore the whines that escape when you get up, stepping away from him. “Sebastian, I’m heading to my room, clean up a bit and meet me there.”

[wheeloffortune-design]

Now that the other anon mentioned generational wealth, I want to talk about my parents.

I was born on this street. Well, near this but the google car didn't fit so we don't have pictures.

The yellow house to the right is my cousin's. She just spent the summer here because my family now could afford to fly her over and house her for three months. The blue house is her brother's, they built it in their front yard when he reached adulthood.

So, I was born during a dictature, because the americans fucked up the government and economy of my country. And then an earthquake threw our house to the ground. So, it was during the months they lived in tents, with their 1 year old child sick and probably dying because I've always been a drama queen, that my parents decided to move to Canada.

What people don't really realize when they talk about immigrants, is the incredibly hard choice they had to make. They leave their country, culture, history, family, language, friends, *everything* behind. Sometimes you can only bring a suitcase of your past. I still have my first onesie, I consider myself lucky. It's pink. I have no family heirloom passed to me. Sometimes I read stories where kids discover their parent's teenage possessions and I wonder what it must be like.

Imagine what it would take you to leave your home.

We were lucky, in a way. Half of my mother's family had already immigrated, the other half would follow in the following years. We had loved ones waiting for us. I was lucky to grow up with my cousins.

Here is a quick montage of the places I lived in.

(missing, my current apartment.)

My parents, like any other immigrant parents, had to do hard, physical labor to get by. My dad spent 13 years washing industrial dishes. My mom did everything, from cleaning to serving to installing computer cables to working in factories. They studied, got certifications in informatics, printing, house selling. Computers evolve, housing crashes happen, and the small advantage you gained in life is lost again. You sold the land in the home country because, after 20 years, you accept that you won't be back. You bought a house with it! Shit happens, you have to sell that house too. You still have nothing to leave to your children. Back to the factories, freezers and raising other people's kids.

They raised us. We never went hungry, or cold, we never even noticed the economically stressful times. We had toys, books, a sega genesis. We went to good schools, participated in every activity, had hobbies, friends, drama classes and speech therapists.

We graduated high school, and then college, all three of us. We were allowed and encouraged to pursue our creativity, because apparently art was a dormant gene in our family tree. The parents have no idea how they managed to make 3 artists, but they're very proud.

"You can draw, if you want," said my mother when I had to pick a career. "But find a way to put food on table."

We had the opportunity to follow our dreams. But an immigrant never forgets.

I had to pay my higher education, and everything that came with it. Here is a small montage of the places I worked at since I was 16.

(i'm missing 2 other bookstores and all the freelance work and the one good job that came out of this, that I'm keeping forever.)

We landed here 36 years ago, on the coldest day of the winter. -40°C and they got out of the plane in light jackets, because in a new country even the weather is incomprehensible.

We, their children, are adults now. We live on our own, work hard, we pursue our dreams on our personal time because you need to put bread on the table, first. We never went hungry, cold, we always had the best education.

My parents are retiring soon. My dad wants to write. My mom wants to travel. They've married new people who make them happy, immigrants too. But my stepdad and my stepmom immigrated for love. It's still hard. They miss their adult kids, back in home country. We try to compensate.

My dad writes nostalgic poetry and science-fiction epics, my mom snowboards and kitesurfs. They have peaceful, stable lives, in nice homes, with cool hobbies. Their children also live peaceful, stable lives in nice homes, with cool hobbies.

My parents will retire soon, and will finally be able to rest.

These are the things I inherited from them: I never went hungry, I never was cold, I never was alone. My generational wealth is every single plate they washed, every single table they wiped, with their own hands. It's the incredible effort they made into learning two new language so they could help us in school. It's every outing, every trip, every vacation, every birthday, every happy occasion they managed to give us. It's the knowledge that I am loved and they have my back.

People immigrate to give a better life to their children. They did.

[digipaw2-0]

The newest event in Obey Me is horribly unfair to F2P players

Hello, I absolutely love this game and want it to grow and last a long time, I’ve been playing since day 1 and love it to bits. But, in the most recent events I’ve noticed a terrible trend, the events are slowly getting increasingly impossible for F2P players. 

Back in the earlier events a player only needed about 60,000 points to get past pg.1, but in the most recent event you need 95,000 to get past page 1.

This is not good and, as a game designer,  I feel I should express my concern and explain why I feel this. Under the cut you will see my reasoning and thought process. 

The event that is currently happening as I make this is the Paws and Claws event 

The cheat cards for this event are:

I’ll break down the total bonus point amounts for each card

SR Lucifer: +6 for first copy +1 every skill LV

SR Beel:  +6 for first copy +1 every skill LV

SSR Mammon: +18 for first copy +4 every skill LV

UR Satan: +36 for first copy +6 every skill LV

UR Asmo: +36 for first copy +6 every skill LV

I will also like to establish how many stages there are for each page of the event, this event has 2 pages of levels with a grand total of 26 stages

Each stage lets you play 3 times for free each day, costing 8AP each 

the player also gets 5 extra plays from watching ads, so if we take 26 x 3 + 5 = 83 plays per day, 

Then we take 83s x 8e = 664  energy needed per day to get each free play per day. 

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Now for the next section lets assume that the player did not get any of the cheat cards and only has the default 120 points per play. 

83s x 120p = 9,960 points per day

9960p x 11d = 109,560 total points during the event

109,560 is just over the final amount for the first page, getting them the SR demon card for the event. But this is assuming the player is able to do the Max amount of free plays each day which is easier said then done.

lets start by seeing how much energy the player gets during the typical day just via time.

The player gets 1 energy every 5 minutes with a cap of 100 (120 if VIP) that means that if we 24 x 60= 1440 then 1440 / 5 = 288 per day 

that still leaves us 376 energy short of the needed 664 energy.  so now lets add in the other free energy in a day

+60 from the daily 2 Beel missions

+30 from Ads

+20 from daily missions

+20 from interacting with demons after stages

potentially +50 from friends

= 180 energy from secondary sources

this gives us a total of 468 still 196 energy from the needed 664. And lets keep in mind that getting the 468 implys that the player is playing PERFECTLY doing everything every day. there are a few other ways of getting energy, such as the 30-50 energy we occasionally get in the gift box once a day, but that is not consistent, same with the energy gained from login bonuses. 

There is also the energy from the event its self which has 230 energy available on the 1st page, but it should be viewed as a last resort boost when you need it so I recommend saving them for the half part of the event. 

the way the player would be able to get the last remaining energy is from the daily flash sale where the player can get 200 energy for 10dp, but this will need the player to pay 100dp during the entire event, half of the daily intake of DP from daily missions. 

But lets assume the player does not want to spend the 10dp, or does not see the flash sale since sometimes they take forever to show up. what is the total points they can get with the free energy they are given each day? 

468 / 8 = 58.8, but we cant do .8 of a stage so 58.

58s x 120e = 6960 points

6960p x 11d = 76,560 points during the event

this will get you just above 2/3 of the way though the 1st pg, THE FIRST PAGE, so unless the player is willing to spend DP on refilling energy they are stuck without even getting the SR Demon card for this event.  --------------------------------------------------

Now lets assume the F2P player is willing to go all out with the DP they do have for this event, how far can they get while still having 0 cheat cards?

The player gets 18DP everyday for doing daily missions, and roughly 50DP from the event. 

this means they will get about 248DP during the event not counting any extras from other missions, devil tree, or potential compensation gifts.  if you deduct the 100DP from the daily flash energy flash sale that leaves 148DP for other purposes, such as stage and normal energy refills. 

it cost 5DP to refill 3 plays of a stage, so they can refill stages about 29 times, meaning roughly 87 more plays which will still only give them 10,440 more points getting them a grand total of exactly 120,000 points in this event not even the half way mark of the second page. At that point I personally don’t think it would be worth using the 148DP to get to that point, id suggest saving them or using them for the LV up flash sale since at least then you get 5 vouchers.

so to be clear, a F2P player with 0 cheat cards can only get around 120,000 points without spending money.

but this means they will be using all their DP on energy and stage refills, when I imagine most F2P would rather save for the level up flash sale for the 5 Demon Vouchers. 

This also assumes the player is playing absolutely perfectly, without missing any Energy drops, which can be very hard for people to maintain while also sleeping, for 11 days in a row as from personal experience it gets harder to maintain as time goes on. 

---------------------------------------------------

What does this mean? 

I believe this is unfair for F2P players, especially when you look at past events when it  would only take about 60,000 points for the first page, each event for the past few have raised the amount by about 10,000 - 20,000 thousand points which if they keep this up it will be almost impossible for F2P players to keep up. I understand that this is a company that needs money to run and continue creating this game we all love, but making it so the game is only viable for whales is not the way to go. 

when it comes to mobile games there are roughly 3 categories of players

whales - big spenders

dolphins - people who spend some but not a large amount

Free 2 Play - do not spend

as a whole Whales tend to only make up a small portion of the player base, just look at the people in the top 10 of the current event. 

See how quickly the numbers drop from absolute lunacy to more reasonable amounts (still a lot) meaning thousands of dollars difference between the people who payed enough money to reach that point. So by appealing to only those people they are alienating 90% of the player base, which is a very bad idea. 

By alienating the majority of players they risk loosing the currently very active fan base around the game, as people get more and more frustrated and eventually give it up out of frustration. Obey me has been very lucky to attract such a large fanbase so quickly, its only about 6 months old at the time that i’m writing this and its already has a massive and active fanbase creating tons of fanwork and engaging with each other. But if people start to feel like the game doesn't care about them and only caters to Whales they will stop playing and the community will slowly start to wither.

--------------------------------------------------

My Suggestions 

Several months ago Solmare listened to the feedback from players about how unfair they thought the events were and listened, they doubled the event stages allowing people to get more points then they could before, making it so F2P players could get to the end of the 2nd page if they put in the work. But by raising the point totals needed to get though the pages they are making that change completely redundant. Leaving us with events that take twice the amount of work for the same rewards as before. I understand they are figuring this out as they go and adjusting events constantly trying to work out a balance, but what they currently have is not good for the games long term as it will alienate a large section of the fan base. 

I believe that that they should either lower the total points needed for each page or raise the default point total, to make it so a F2P player with 0 cheat cards can get to the end of the first page without spending any DP

if they put in the work. Then make it so people who have summoned some SRs and a SSR cheat card can get to the 2nd page reliably, then the 3rd page+ can be for people who are willing to spend money and or are just lucky enough in the gacha. this way there is still the incentive for people to pay money if they want to, but don’t feel like they are forced to. (Although I imagine people are already spending a lot in the gacha to get the cards they want anyway)  

F2P people will still not be able to always get to page 3+ but this will also help long term for if/when they decide to do event re-runs. Since it would give players who where around for the first time something to still work for since they will likely be able to get the shards needed the 2nd time though. 

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What can you and I do?

It may not feel like we can do much about this, but Solmare has listened to the fans before. We also know that some of them do look at the content fans make and discuss.

SO talk about it, Tweet at them, share your displeasure, show your friends have them tweet it out, talk about it on the facebook page (be civil though), just kick up a fuss so they can see how much this is hurting the player base.  if you don’t know what to say to them, you can even tweet this at them, copy and past it, do what ever, just let them know how upset you are. 

Thank you for reading! and please, reblog this and spread it so others can see it. 

[differenceonlyyoucanmake]

12 Dancing Princesses Thoughts/ Headcanons/ Assorted Stuff that Came to Me in a Dream

I’m kind of tired, so this may be incomplete. I wanted to put it out there, though. My dreams have mostly been from Courtney’s perspective, not an omniscient one. Because of this, there may be some gaps.

Ashlyn:

- Deserved so much better

- It actually makes me upset. I woke up from one of my 12dp dreams in TEARS because she deserved so much better.

- After Isabella passed, Ashlyn took on the role of being a maternal presence to her sisters. She did this extremely well, but it’s also heartbreaking how she pushed herself to grow up.

- Randolph was not a capable father during the lowest periods of his grief, and Ashlyn definitely had to compensate for this.

- Randolph... could have been kinder to her, especially after the queen died. He couldn’t look Ashlyn in the eyes. She reminded him too much of his late wife.

- Isabella wanted Ashlyn to inherit her belongings and position, but Randolph had his own favorites (I promise I don’t think he was an evil person, but he could have done better).

- I think Ashlyn would identify as bisexual.

- She knew several instruments, but was most attached to the flute. Her most treasured memories involved Isabella giving her flute lessons.

- She was expected to be the mature one all the time, so she repressed a lot of her own frustrations in favor of caring for others.

- She was closest to Blair and Courtney.

- She was a little soft spoken, and one of the most “ladylike”; Ashlyn was one of the sisters who struggled least with Rowena’s lessons.

- The younger sisters had a hard time remembering that she was a person capable of all sorts of feelings. They expected parental behavior from her, and got really confused when she expressed negative emotions.

- Some of the sisters assumed Ashlyn didn’t care for sweets, because she would offer hers to the others whenever they got any. In reality, she thought this was kind behavior. She showed sacrifice in several, seemingly inconsequential, ways.

- Despite seeming so mature, she always felt as if she stopped growing up after her mother passed.

- As the sisters grew up, Ashlyn really struggled with finding her purpose. She didn’t get the power her mother promised her. She put her own ideas and prospects aside to care for her sisters. She ended up floating from kingdom to kingdom, with varying success in several different courts. She eventually came  to live with the other eldest sisters.

- Despite being (in my view) cheated out of her kingdom, Ashlyn seldom expressed frustration or resentment. She adopted the attitude of a retired noble early in life, spending a lot of time on composing music and serene hobbies.

Blair

- horse.... horses..... sleeping in the stables...... with the horses

- I’m kidding! Mostly!

- Blair was bold and opinionated. She also loved witty conversation and comedy.

- What else did she love? Horses.

- She would sneak out all the time to ride.

- Her favorite horse was black and very tall.

- She was closest to Ashlyn and Courtney.

- Blair was sick in childhood.

- Though the older sisters were known for being more refined and elegant, Blair pushed this notion plenty.

- She loved adventure.

- All of the sisters missed the golden pavilion, but Blair struggled with this a lot.

- She didn’t have as many problems with Randolph, but sometimes she would CAUSE problems on purpose (mostly defending Ashlyn and calling out his favoritism).

- She turned her own estate later in life into a close replica of the pavilion. The grounds were massive.

- She was intelligent, but struggled with many academic tasks. If she needed to read something that was challenging, she would often hand it to Courtney for help. She would only have motivation to read if it was about subjects she loved.

- This is ironic, because she later came to be a published writer. I believe these were short works, similar to pamphlets.

- Blair enjoyed throwing and attending large balls and gatherings. She was still chasing the thrill of the magical visits she’d make with her sisters.

- Blair was considered extremely beautiful, and drew admirers wherever she went. She accumulated many pieces of ruby jewelry this way.

- She also liked wearing capes and cloaks.

Courtney

- Generally shy, Courtney made an exception when she stood up for Ashlyn.

- Courtney longed to travel, and books provided her with a form of escapism until she was able to.

- She had a health scare after the events of the movie, and this somehow tarnished her standing in society??

- She wasn’t straight, probably a lesbian.

- She was well read on political matters and the history of their kingdom, and would often be the first one to noticed Randolph’s incompetence in certain areas.

- She was a young teen when she first started rewriting her father’s treaties in her spare time. She learned after the first time not to bring her drafts to him.

- When Ashlyn and Blair left home, she grew closer with Fallon. Both had a streak of wanderlust, and gravitated towards the romantic.

- Courtney published poetry under a pseudonym starting at a young age. This probably helped her somewhat. As she grew up, her poems grew in notoriety, and many debated who their true writer was. A significant portion focused on love between women and feeling trapped.

- I think she had been to Apollonia (Antonio’s kingdom in Island Princess) several times, and knew both Luciana and Antonio from an early age. I think this was the case for many of the older sisters.

- After their mother died, the girls traveled less, and met less new people. Courtney was bothered by this.

- She was generally thought of as calm and quiet, but she felt emotions deeply ( even if she didn’t always express them).

Delia

- Athletic and spunky

- Delia enjoyed more structured sports.

- She was prone to sunburns.

- Delia was enamored with the sun and light. She would hang prisms next to her windows to watch the light refract.

- She was closest with her twin, Edeline. They enjoyed playing croquet together and (though it was usually harmless) gossiping.

- Delia had a temper. She would deal with guilt afterwards if she lashed out at someone.

- Her emotional regulation issues came to light after her mother died.

- Delia dealt with a lot of guilt in general. She didn’t feel as put-together as her older sisters, or as carefree as the younger ones. She felt guilty for not fitting in, and expressed feeling like an inconvenience to those around her.

- Outsiders thought she was dim-witted, and she internalized this.

- Delia often had a problem of interrupting people or speaking loudly, so it was advised that she stay quiet when visitors came. This really hurt her self esteem, since she was always happy to make new friends.

- Rowena had offended her when she was a young girl, and Delia never forgot this.

- Delia liked birds, and hummingbirds fascinated her.

- She had to learn to accept herself later in life. 

- She discovered people who appreciated her for who she was, and finally left her inhibitions behind. 

- After that, she became known for her charisma and charm.

Edeline:

- Edeline shared a lot of interests with her twin, such as sports and outdoor activities.

- She enjoyed making others laugh.

- Once Genevieve married Derek, Edeline took it as her cue to BULLY that poor man.

- Seriously, it probably warded off suitors for her other sisters.

- It was usually in good fun, though.

- Edeline disliked rules and structure.

- She was closest with Delia.

- She often stood up for her twin.

- Edeline had a good ear for gossip, and had her own methods of fact checking stories she’d heard.

- Something happened with her at Genevieve’s wedding?? Maybe she broke something??

- Edeline traveled some, but found her way back home eventually.

- She DESPISED Rowena. None of the sisters liked her, but Edeline couldn’t stand her from the beginning.

- Edeline would have loved to know about the concept of roast humor.

- She liked to have sleepover-like setups in their bedroom. She would build forts and encourage the others to come tell ghost stories. When the memories of her mother came to her, she felt the need to DO something, even if the action wasn’t necessarily related.

- She became known for her humor.

Fallon

- Fallon was pretty much independent, until she and Courtney bonded.

- Fallon always wanted pets, and was jealous that only Genevieve was allowed to have one (besides....bugs and the horses, who were kept outside).

- She would try to befriend wild animals, and nursed some injured animals back to health.

- I don’t think Fallon was straight.

- Fallon was sensitive, and had a hard time dealing with Rowena’s harsh treatment.

- Fallon had nightmares, and would often go to her older sisters for comfort.

- She enjoyed the company of others. She would spend time with servants and other people considered to be below her station.

- Fallon played the harp.

- She loved the softer aspects of life. 

- She devoted time to charitable causes.

- I just know that she did that classic princess trope of posing as a commoner. That’s such a her thing to do.

- She gained a reputation for being eccentrically kind. She had a large family of animals, who she took EXCELLENT care of.

Genevieve

- You may have noticed that the older sisters were generally closer with each other. Well, Genevieve wasn’t, and she made it that way.

- She.... liked to act like she was in charge. She often undermined Ashlyn’s efforts.

- She was Randolph’s favorite.

- Genevieve got along better with the younger sisters, especially Lacey.

- She probably did have leadership skills, but a lot of them came from acting like she did.

- Like I’ve implied above, she got a lot of power after she married, instead of Ashlyn.

- Derek wasn’t a bad person, but he was a COBBLER. How did she get more political power by marrying a COBBLER?

- She butted heads with Blair and Courtney quite often after the events of the movie.

- Basically, she had Main Character Disease dsfghjk

- She traveled less than the other older sisters.

- Admittedly, she wasn’t a poor leader.

- I have a feeling she adopted a lot of children later in life.

- She and Derek had a pretty long transitional period after they married, meaning they spent more time really figuring out who they were as a couple rather than jumping into their duties right away.

- Genevieve kind of symbolized the cutoff for the sisters who had lots of solid memories about their mother and those who didn’t.

- She was one of the best dancers out of the sisters.

- She was brave and self-assured.

- She knew what she wanted, and she would get it.

- After Twyla, she got some other cats. They were mostly orange and/or long haired.

- She never quite shook her habit of being late.

Hadley

- Hadley was closest to their twin, Isla.

- As Hadley grew up, they became more comfortable being gender nonconforming. They may have been trans, but I don’t remember.

- Hadley enjoyed fencing.

- Stilts were Hadley’s first love, and led to appreciation for other daring activities.

- Hadley also loved the ocean. Many of their adventures involved being at sea. They spent years sailing longside their twin on a ship Genevieve gifted them.

- Rumors swirled that they were a pirate. Though these weren’t true, Hadley didn’t mind.

- Hadley was energetic and intuitive.

- Hadley was an athletic risk-taker. They enjoyed acrobatics and other feats of the human body.

- Hadley became known for their adventurous exploits and fencing prowess.

- Though Hadley initially idolized Genevieve, she eventually sided with Ashlyn and the other older sisters once she learned the whole story.

- Hadley stayed with the older sisters after whatever scary thing happened with Courtney.

- Hadley mentored people, and may have been a teacher.

- She really missed the times when all of their sisters got along.

- There were rumors that Hadley was affiliated with darker forces, when in reality Hadley was one of the most well-adjusted.

Isla

- Isla was closest to Hadley.

- Isla liked adventure, but she was less daring than Hadley.

- Isla stayed our of most business involving the older sisters, preferring to spend time with her twin.

- She loved swimming.

- Isla had a collection of maps.

- She was known for being easy going. 

- She sometimes had to bring Hadley down from an idea that seemed too dangerous.

- Isla was the voice of reason in some situations.

- She never lost her passion for dance, and learned new styles through their travels.

- Isla had pet birds.

- She was admired for her grace and acrobatic talent.

- Isla enjoyed circus-like acts.

- She was more bothered by the pirate rumors than Hadley.

- Isla enjoyed researching magic, and trying to find a way back to the magic pavilion. 

- Isla was non-confrontational.

- She tried many forms of artistic expression, from writing to painting.

- Isla was loyal to Hadley, and would be there for her twin no matter what.

Janessa

- Janessa maintained her love of insects.

- Since they were so young when it happened, none of the triplets remember details of the magic pavilion. If their sisters weren’t there to confirm their memories, they would have thought it was a dream.

- Janessa grew up to be very interested in science.

- Janessa found the proper way to care for insects, and took pride in how well she did it.

- She was prone to worrying.

- She often lamented the fact that she was so young when they visited the pavilion.

- Janessa was considered obedient and passive.

- Janessa heard how much she looked like her mother (though not as much as Ashlyn). She had mixed feelings about this, because she couldn’t really remember what her mother looked like.

- Janessa was closest to Kathleen.

- She became close with Edeline and Delia when she got older.

- Janessa knew she wasn’t Randolph’s favorite, and took this personally. She tried, especially in her youth, to gain his approval.

- She also knew that Genevieve preferred Lacey, even though all the triplets looked up to Genevieve.

- Janessa balanced her love for science with her royal duties, and used what power she had to provide exposure and resources to research institutes.

Kathleen

- Kathleen was creative and unconventional.

- She was closest with Janessa, and became close with Isla later in life.

- Kathleen was known for her paintings.

- She started out painting things like landscapes, then moved into less traditional subjects.

- Her royal portraits were renowned in particular. They captured royalty doing activities that were important to them, or in significant fantasy settings.

- She painted portraits of her siblings and father. These became their favorites. She captured: a relaxed Ashlyn writing music, Blair on horseback in mid-air, Courtney in her library, Delia in the sunlight, Edeline in a fantastical outdoor scene, Fallon with her animals, Genevieve dancing, Hadley fencing, Isla swimming, Janessa surrounded by flying insects in the sky, and Lacey at work.

- Though she tried many times, Kathleen was not satisfied with her attempts of painting her mother. She felt like she was simply copying pre-existing portraits.

- The only painting of her mother she was somewhat pleased with was one of Queen Isabella walking away, her back to the viewer as she walked into a golden pavilion.

- Kathleen tried to paint the magic pavilion, and these painting had a fuzzy, dream-like quality.

- Her art gained a significant following.

Lacey

- She was Randolph’s second favorite.

-Lacey was unshakably loyal to Genevieve. She didn’t understand why the older sisters were upset about her being given power and land.

- Lacey struggled with illness as a child. She was inspired by the healing water at the pavilion to study medicine.

- Lacey struggled with muscle strength and coordination well into adulthood.

- Despite this, she continued dancing.

- She looked very similar to Randolph’s relatives.

- She felt the need to defend Genevieve, and would often challenge her older sisters because of this.

- Although Ashlyn never challenged her, Lacey harbored resentment towards her. She blamed Ashlyn for the fact that Genevieve’s approval wasn’t universal.

- Lacey was interested in scientifically based medicine, as well as magical remedies.

- Lacey was always closest with Genevieve, and lived with her for a long time.

- Lacey idolized Genevieve and Derek’s relationship, often heralding it as the pinnacle of romance.

- She searched for a way back to the magical world, believing it contained the key to eternal youth and immortality.

- Lacey didn’t care for travel as much as some of her sisters, but she usually enjoyed when she did leave her own kingdom.

- She grew up to be Genevieve’s closest adviser, and an accomplished healer.

Canon Noncompliant Things

- The sisters left the pavilion by dancing in birth order. Although Derek did leave by dancing with Genevieve, they weren’t responsible for leaving in the first place. Once again, Ashlyn doesn’t get the credit she deserves dfghjk

- Genevieve had an actual wedding, not whatever that was that was shown at the end of the movie. It was smaller than a lot of royal weddings (because Derek didn’t have many connections or people to invite), but it was a serious affair. 

[kylorengarbagedump]

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 2

Read on AO3. Part 1 here. Part 3 here.

Summary: So, like, what's the big deal, buddy?

Words: 3800

Warnings: None. Yet.

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: Hello!! Firstly, thank you so much to @bastila-ren​ and @elmidol​ for listening to me talk so much about this fic, for reading the first two chapters, and helping me with their generous feedback.

Secondly, I want to thank all of you for your EXTREMELY generous response to this fic. I admit I was very nervous to post this, and still am very nervous to write it, but I can't explain how helpful it is to know that people still enjoy the story and want to read more. It's definitely a story I want to write!

Y’all have truly been too kind to me. I don't have a posting schedule, just yet--I'm hoping every week or every other week. :) Love y'all SOOOOO MUCH.

Like the smarmy bastard he was, Hux fought off a smirk. But Allegiant General Pryde gazed at you with what some might refer to as sheer, indignant horror.

Kylo Ren stopped feet from the throne, his gaze wandering your grungy hair, dirtied uniform, the cell filth on your face.

“Hm,” he said. “That’s one way to greet your Supreme Leader.”

Embers tickled your cheeks. Your Supreme Leader.

You looked at the two other men. What was on your tongue: Would you prefer I get on my knees instead?

What you ended up saying: “Uh, sorry. Sir.”

“I believe the Supreme Leader requires an apology a little more comprehensive than uh, sorry.”  Pryde stepped forward, as if to explain. “Sir, this woman was brought aboard by General Hux without prior approval.”

Kylo glanced between the older men, stare drifting to you, the darkness in his eyes reviving an animal within you that had been placed on life support. 

“Yes,” he replied. “I don’t recall providing authorization for this.”

“Supreme Leader,” Hux said, “we both know your TIE has been out of commission for several cycles. I thought it prudent to--”

“You thought it prudent to ask a manager of a remote outpost to come aboard the flagship of the First Order. I assume that’s what you’re about to say.” Pryde paused, waiting for Hux’s contrition--but none came. He turned to Kylo. “Sir, again, please forgive me. Had I known he’d be bringing aboard a rim-dweller who would defy your authority, I would’ve denied his request, entirely.”

“Defiance.” Kylo’s gaze drilled you. Much like you had dreamt of something else of his drilling you. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Pryde balked. “Well, I hardly find it appropriate to address the Supreme Leader of the First Order as dude, for starters.” He spat the word onto the floor like poison. “Really, General, you and her both should be begging for his pardon.”

You swallowed, attention on Kylo, trying to hide your glee. “Please, please forgive me,” you murmured. “Supreme Leader.”

Hux cleared his throat. “My apologies as well, sir.”

“Hm.” If he’d understood your tease, he didn’t acknowledge it. You frowned. Kylo looked to the cloaked mercenaries behind you. “Escort her back to Orinda.”

Disbelief smacked you across the face. “I’m sorry, what?”

Sputtering, Hux stepped forward. “Supreme Leader--”

“You don’t belong on this vessel,” Kylo said, glimpsing you, then the cloaked figures again. “Report is postponed. Prepare the Buzzard for departure.” 

Like droids, they activated and brushed past you, stalking toward the turbolift. The Supreme Dickhead gazed at you expectantly.

“They’re not patient.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “If you think I’m leaving--”

“Supreme Leader,” Hux said again. For once, you felt like both of you were stuck in the same flabbergasted pod. “Repairing your fighter has already wasted the time of numerous engineers, we don’t need to add--”

“Perhaps every engineer aboard deserves to have their time equally wasted, General.”

Hux’s jaw tensed. “If you wish, sir,” he replied. “But we could resolve the issue now.”

“We won’t.”

For whatever reason, Kylo Ren seemed dedicated to preventing you from working on this ship, as if he didn’t know your skill level. As if he believed other engineers deserved a shot at it over you. Ignoring the furious trembling of your fingers, you dug them into your sleeves. 

“What, you don’t think I’m capable?” you asked, frowning.

Pryde sighed. “Supreme Leader, the Council--”

Kylo pivoted to you. “No.” There was no hint of mockery or deception in his tone. “You’re capable.”

You swallowed, shrugged your shoulder. Tried not to sound hurt. “Then why won’t you let me try?”

Hazel eyes lingered, held you in silence for deafening seconds. There was something very, very tired inside of them. 

“Sir,” Pryde said, “as much as I love the rousing debate over whether or not this rimrat should be deemed worthy of working on your starfighter, the Supreme Council meeting is in minutes.” He turned to you. “I believe you’ve been directed to leave.”

You furrowed your brow, but miraculously managed to say nothing. The muscle under Kylo’s nose twitched. 

“You’ll get two hours.” He didn’t seem excited about the idea. “After that, you will return to Orinda.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” you sighed. “Sir.”

A huff escaped him. “The Supreme Council meeting.” He turned, strode to the exit. “Come.”

Pryde frowned. “Sir, shouldn’t Hux return her to the hangar?”

“No.” Kylo’s voice ricocheted in the chamber. “She’s coming.”

Something like joy sparkled in your heart. Hux jutted out his chin, smirking at Pryde, who frowned and looked to you. You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out at him. There was a puzzle in his mind regarding your identity, a puzzle he was struggling to put together without the missing pieces. You weren’t interested in offering them. 

The three of you followed Kylo into the turbolift. Out of irritation, you stood as far away from him as possible. Awkward quiet settled in the air, and you grit your teeth, ignoring the sting of humiliation at your cheeks. Sure, it was nice he was inviting you to his little meeting, but that hardly compensated for the fact that it had been four entire months since you’d seen him and he was intent on booting you without so much as a parting fuck. 

Not that you wanted to fuck him after that stunt. 

Mostly.

The lift descended. Kylo hadn’t even looked at you, despite your best attempts at petty distancing. Hundreds of words hung on your tongue, and so few of them were appropriate for the ears of Hux and Pryde. Luckily for you, you could think them, instead.

Jackass.

The blast door slid open, and Kylo exited without response, the two generals on his heels. You lagged behind them, glare boring into the broad-shouldered bastard with the flowing cape.

Can’t believe this asshole was here the entire time, knowing everything, with all of the power in the galaxy, just doing bantha-shit about it.

Stormtroopers passed in formation, nodding in deference to the men in front of you as you turned a corner. The clomping of boots was the only sound for meters.

Leaving you for four months, horny as hell, lonely as hell, all while he was here doing what? Jerking off? As if he hadn’t begged you to stay. Please.

At the end of the hall, a set of blast doors parted, and you trailed the group inside, greeted by a massive, jet-black table with a hologram projector buried in the center. The occupants of about a dozen chairs turned, their eyes stuck to you, assessing you. Kylo crossed to the head of the table, Hux and Pryde taking spaces near him. The only open seats were at the back, relegated for only the most irrelevant attendees. You slunk over to one, sinking into it.

Apparently you’re not relevant to anyone in this room, anyway.

“Who’s this?” A balding officer of high-rank stared at you. “Supreme Leader?”

Pryde leaned forward. “She’s the Chief--”

“Who she is,” Kylo drawled, “is none of your concern.” 

Blood heated your face. The room rumbled with uncertainty, but only for seconds. 

“Sir,” said an older woman with slick blonde hair, “Multiple locations on Kamino refused entry to officers seeking out junior recruits. Our entry-level ranks are suffering. Requesting additional--”

Kylo glanced at her. “Yes.”

She nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“Supreme Leader,” said an older, white-haired man. “Surveillance indicates that a fuel depot located in the Inner Rim has received communications from Resistance starships.”

“Have they responded?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Eliminate them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Another, dark-skinned woman inched to the edge of her seat. “Supreme Leader, ground troops found no evidence of Resistance sympathizers on the most recent patrol of Aeos Prime.”

“And the infrastructure.”

“Seems salvageable, sir.”

Kylo blinked, as if the answer hadn’t even mattered. “Move to the next outpost in the system.”

“Of course, Supreme Leader.”

Yet another man cleared his throat. “Supreme Leader, if I may…”

Swallowing, you stared into the gleaming tabletop, tracing the rivets of white light bordering the projector. Voices rose, offering status updates and seeking approval of the man at the head of the room. Obviously, there was nothing attractive about how competent and powerful Kylo Ren appeared in this setting. And this definitely did not tingle pride in your belly watching every single person in this room vie for his favor, knowing that out of all of them, the one he’d fucked was you.

Then again, maybe that was the very crux of the issue. His time and attention was desired and demanded and split between thousands--he directed and delegated an entire, galaxy-wide government. He commanded armies. Strategized operations. Balanced every need, tangible and intangible, with only two hands.

You spent your days bathing in ion dust.

The Allegiant Asshole cleared his throat, breaking you from your pity party. “General Hux,” he said, “didn’t you have your pet project to present?”

All eyes turned to Hux, his face dull with irritation. Lips pursing, he straightened his spine, fingers whizzing over the data screen at his seat. One swipe, a quick field entry, and the projector hummed to life, shooting a blue hologram of a TIE fighter above the table. It flickered, rotating like a display.

“The First Order has regularly demonstrated deficient performance during naval engagements, despite our superior numbers and resources,” Hux said. “After gathering data, we discovered that during our most recent missions, the TIE fighter is regularly out-piloted by Resistance sympathizers.” He tapped the screen, and the hologram split into a cross-section. “Thorough research indicates the TIE model is obsolete.”

The room crackled with whispers, officers turning to each other and looking to Hux, their faces twisted in disbelief. Kylo Ren sat, saying nothing, trained on the display. 

Sighing, you gazed at your hands and cleaned your nails. To you, this was obvious. Of course the basic TIE models--the TIE/fo models--were obsolete. The ships were highly inflexible, carried little firepower for their unwieldy construction, and had no hyperdrive application. In comparison to the model used by the Special Forces, the TIE/fo was practically useless. 

It was less obvious why these high-ranking strangers seemed unable to handle the truth.

“General,” said a dark-skinned man. “Are you proposing we abandon the TIE corps?”

Hux pressed the screen again, and it zoomed in on an exposed ion engine. “At the very least, the most basic TIE corps is woefully unequipped in comparison to Resistance fighters.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he replied, “our pilots are extensively trained.”

Pryde sneered. “Admiral Griss is correct,” he said. “Our elite troops don’t demonstrate any issue with crushing Resistance burrows.”

“Elite troops are never the ones defending a new occupation.” Hux gestured to the engine blueprint. “We sacrifice our progress because of this antiquated construction.”

“And what’s so antiquated about it?” Pryde sneered. “The construction is based on the Imperial TIE. These ships were a well-known symbol of naval superiority.”

“Updated for modern needs,” added Griss. 

Hux’s voice rose a decibel. “Not modern enough, given how frequently a single X-wing will decimate an entire unit.”

You wanted to groan. Against your will, you had to admit Hux was right. Orinda regularly saw straggling, crippled TIEs smash into the valley outside the hangar in attempts to land for repair. Mirna had pulled more pilots than you could count out of blazing wreckage.

“Do you suggest we change the basic TIE unit, then?” Griss asked.

“Perhaps,” Hux replied, “or we move to a different construction entirely.”

The other officers chuckled, murmurs rippling through the ranks again. 

“Supreme Leader,” Pryde said, “what he’s suggesting is absurd. Sienar-Jaemus manufactures perfectly appropriate and functional fighters at an affordable price to the First Order. It’s been done this way since the Empire.”

Rolling your eyes, you sat back in your chair. For a General of a government allegedly interested in innovation and progress, Pryde seemed to love sucking the Empire’s dick. The fact that they were refusing to even entertain Hux’s idea was, well…

“Perhaps we should place a double order for the basic fighters, sir,” Pryde continued. “To demonstrate their capability.”

You snorted. “Now that’s absurd.”

Every voice in the room died. Leather squelched, and you glanced up from your nails in time to see a dozen bodies shifting in their seats to turn and look at you. Inwardly, you cursed--you hadn’t had to practice volume control in months. 

At the head of the table, Kylo Ren stared. His expression, even to you, was indiscernible. But even if he was mad, you wouldn’t have cared. Not as long as he still intended on kicking you off the Steadfast without another word.

Shrugging, you said, “General Hux is right. The original TIE model is flawed. They lose out one-on-one almost every time.” Kylo still said nothing, the rest of the room too confused to interrupt you. “I guarantee there’s more credits spent on replacement models than it would cost to invest in something more versatile.”

Griss’s nose wrinkled, and he looked between you and Kylo. “I…” When Kylo offered no response, Griss settled on you. “I’m not sure what brought you here, ah… Lieutenant, but regardless of your purpose, you’re surrounded by superiors of the First Order. Don’t speak out of turn.”

“Right,” you said, “I do apologize, sir.  But you have to admit that this all is a little absurd. I see busted up basic TIEs all the time. They’re a failure.”

“Yes,” he replied, “and you are?”

“Chief of Operations on Orinda.”

“An outpost?” The room echoed with laughter, and you bristled. Griss gestured to you. “Supreme Leader, please, why is this woman here?”

Pryde nodded. “I know you have your reasons, sir, but surely she doesn’t belong in this room.”

“Maybe this woman knows what she’s talking about,” you mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Griss whipped around, leering at you. “Mind repeating yourself, Lieutenant?”

Volume control. Really needed to get better with that. 

Gathering a breath, you swallowed your ire. You could not spend all two hours on the Steadfast immediately making enemies with the military leaders of the First Order. Given Kylo’s state, you doubted he’d encourage your attitude. 

“My apologies,” you said, bowing your head, “I’m just. Nervous. Being on this ship for the first time.”

“Perhaps you’ve spent too much time on Orinda,” said Griss. “You’ve forgotten the hierarchy.”

“She needs re-education,” said the balding man.

The dark-skinned woman huffed. “Or a demotion.”

“Some form of discipline, surely.”

“Yes,” said Pryde with a glare. “Perhaps that should be arranged.”

Your heart skipped.

“Enough.”

Every person in the room spun, attention on Kylo Ren.

He was still inscrutable. Still gazing directly at you. 

A shiver spilled over your spine. Like instinct, your thighs pressed together. 

“General Hux,” he said. “Prepare a plan for the replacement of the basic TIE model.” A pause. No one spoke a word. “Dismissed.”

You remained in your seat as the other officers rose, their lips sealed as they filed out of the room. Hux scowled at you--ungrateful prick--and acknowledged Kylo’s order before leaving. Pryde scrutinized you, his focus flipping between you and his Supreme Leader as he stood from the table. 

“It’s time to leave, Lieutenant,” he said.

“I need a moment,” you replied, glancing at him. “Sir.”

Pryde turned to Kylo. “Sir?”

Kylo’s face was blank. “Dismissed, General.”

Whatever Pryde was thinking, he didn’t say. He offered deference to the Supreme Leader before strutting out, the blast door shutting behind him.

The moment it closed, the room thickened with heat, like stars vaporized the air. Sweat beaded your hairline, your tongue drying to paper. Every movement you thought to make was paused, paralyzed by confusion. Had it been four months ago, you’d be getting railed on top of the table or in his chair, you were sure of it. But Kylo seemed almost indifferent now. It neutered every response that came to mind.

Here you were, alone with Kylo Ren for the first time since you’d left. He was only meters away from you. And you had absolutely no idea what to do.

“Your time is limited, Lieutenant.”

A reminder he wanted you gone. You shook your head, chewing the inside of your lip. 

“The silencer is free to be inspected.”

Indignance tightened your chest. Your face was on fire.

“Or perhaps,” Kylo said, “you’d rather travel directly to Orinda.”

You whirled on him. “So you knew I was on Orinda the entire time?” Your frustration was unfettered. “You knew and just didn’t do anything about it? For four months?”

His stare didn’t yield. “Yes.”

“Yes?” you said. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? How do you expect me to respond to that?” More heat gripped your neck. He was still. “Why do you want me gone so badly? You act like you don’t even want me around.”

“I don’t.”

The words were switchblades to your chest. You shook your head, gulped your pain.

“Uh. Okay. Wow.” Sighing, you continued, “But don’t you--I mean. You pleaded with me to stay.”

He said nothing.

“You... I know how you feel. You can’t hide that from me. Do you…” Your throat was tight. “Did something change?”

For four months, you had wondered what had been going on in Kylo Ren’s mind. Seeing him draped in the responsibility of the Supreme Leader of the First Order, hesitation crept into your gut. Within his gaze, perhaps only apparent to you, there was a black, terrible emptiness, like shadows reined in by his rage. Exhaustion hung in dark circles under his eyes and at his cheeks. His presence was as breathtaking as it ever had been, only haunted with the weight of the galaxy. 

For four months, you had wondered. You didn’t know, now, if you wanted the answer.

“You don’t belong here.” Kylo paused, then stood, moving toward the door. “Your presence is not warranted.”

“Warranted? That’s not what this is about.” You shot to your feet, intercepting his path. “You knew where I was, and you never once came to me! You left me there! Alone!” He side-stepped you, and you followed him, keeping your eyes chained to his. “Didn’t you miss me?” you asked. “Didn’t you think about me?”

He stalled. Exhaling through his nose, he spoke through his teeth. “Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you find me?” you said. “You promised!” 

Kylo stood, trapped in your stare, his fingers furling into fists.

“I know how you feel about me.” You advanced on him. “I know it.” 

You were so near you could feel his breath, count the individual strands of his hair, bask in the warmth of his body. A short inhale, and memory slammed you like gravity--the scent of his skin, his palms gripping your waist, his lips brushing your ear. The ache in your hands at night when they were not full of him, the bedtime yearning in your limbs when they were not wound around his. You had known him, known him, as if his blood ran in your veins.  

This was the closest you’d been to Kylo Ren in weeks upon weeks. Somehow, you only felt further away.

“Why?” you asked. “Why didn’t you find me?” After all of it, he only stared. It lit you with rage, and you bumped your chest with his. “Say something!”

The muscle in his jaw tightened. His shoulders rolled. But he was silent. 

A peal of bitter laughter escaped you. Whatever issues he had didn’t mater. You deserved more than what he was offering.

“Wow. Okay.” You shrugged, stepping back. “I don’t know who I was thinking about for these past four months, but it definitely wasn’t you.” Shaking your head, you turned toward the door. “Whatever, dude. Fuck you.”

You took a single step, and Kylo snatched your wrist, whipped you against his body. 

“You say that,” he breathed, “as if you haven’t been thinking about getting fucked since you arrived.”

Oxygen fled your lungs. Every blood cell in your body piled onto your cheeks and between your legs. In seconds, you were a throbbing, pent-up, swell of lust. 

You swallowed. “Oh, please,” you muttered. “You can’t distract me that easily. You know I need answers.”

“Hm.” Kylo scanned your figure. “So you say.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You tried to peel your wrist free. “Why didn’t you do this weeks ago, huh?”

His face darkened, his hold on you tightened. 

“You ask questions that have no answers.”

“Ugh. Get off.” Grunting, you shouldered him, body buffeting his like a flaccid wave. It would’ve been arousing, his strength, how utterly solid he was, if he wasn’t making you miserable in this moment. “You’re so full of it, man. Let me go. I’ll go repair your dumbass ship and you can send me back to Orinda, like you so clearly want.”

“You presume to understand what I want.” His voice was severe, a dull blade. “You will not stay here.” The ghost of a smirk fled his face. “But you won’t escape punishment when you’re gone.”

You shuddered, stuck out your chin. “Your punishments don’t scare me.”

Kylo growled. “Really.” A leather palm cupped the back of your neck, tugged you close. “Such confidence.”

You couldn’t help it. A tiny, excited whimper left you. Kylo shifted, his hand squeezed--

The projector in the table beeped. An incoming transmission. The both of you froze, staring at the blinking request on the interface.  You coughed, patted his chest as a signal to answer it. The knot in his throat bobbed, and he released you, crossing to the console and accepting the message.

Hux appeared in hologram form. “Supreme Leader,” he said, voice even more snivelly through the broadcast. “We received a distress signal from Orinda. Multiple Resistance fighters have been detected on radar. Requests for response from the officers stationed there have gone unanswered.”

The joints in your body locked. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Permission to dispatch TIE units, sir,” Hux said.

Kylo was still. “Dispatch.”

“Yes, sir.”

The hologram winked out. Before you could process, your feet were moving you toward the door.

“I gotta go.” Your pulse pounded in your temple. The entirety of your crew was down there. By themselves. “I gotta go there. I gotta get there. I’m sorry, I know I said I would repair your ship but--”

“Stop.” 

“--it’s probably for the best anyway, I just gotta find some way there, I--”

He spoke your name like a command. You stopped. Stared into his tired, empty eyes. 

His chest fell in a small sigh. “We’ll take the Buzzard,” he said. “Come.”

Kylo Ren tread past you, through the blast doors, into the hallway. The tatters of your bewildered heart weren’t a priority right now. You followed him--your Supreme Leader.

[olivinesea]

In the Golden Dark

a/n: Having never done any ship writing before I’m just going to jump feet first into the deep end with a little Hotchreid for you today. It’s nice. No warnings except maybe some angst because we are who we are. Probably the softest thing you will see from me so enjoy the moment. Completely unnecessary disclaimer that I would find this relationship wildly inappropriate in real life but thank god we’re out here in the lawless fiction of the internet. And you’re getting full on song lyrics bc Hotchreid is nothing if not decadent af. There’s more but I’m impatient so here’s the first bit. ~ 2.7k

what the hell am I doing here in the golden dark? feeling like I’m someone else who looks the part I built up barricades to block my heart cause I don’t wanna fear you

He leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms up and clasping his hands behind his head, arching his back slightly. With his eyes closed it could be any time of day. He inhaled deeply and pretended for a moment that he was nowhere. He even gave himself a few extra seconds, indulging in the quiet that was the office at night. If only he could feel so peaceful in the right moments—before sleeping perhaps. When he opened his eyes all he could see was the reflection of his office light in the black windows. There hadn’t been daylight for hours. He’d switched off the overhead lights in favor of the small desk lamp that pooled the light only in the area of immediate relevance. Everything beyond its reach faded in and out of existence as his focus fell deeply into the forms in front of him.

He pressed his elbows back as far as they would go, pulling up slightly on the base of his skull, stretching out a day’s worth of stress, countless hours spent bent over report after report. He never could have imagined that saving people would require so much paperwork. Reducing the chaos of the lived experience, the searches and the takedowns, the intricate patterns of dozens of personalities layering choices upon one another; it turned out to be quite difficult to do. It took him hours to wrap up cases, even with everyone doing most of their own reports. Which, through no fault of their own, wasn’t always the case. He usually ended up siphoning off a fair number of those reports in addition to his own.

He didn’t mind, he needed to go over everything, needed to make sure that any possible negative feedback that came back would fall to him and he would be prepared if it did. His team were his responsibility, he would be neglecting his duties if he didn’t ensure that things were handled properly. None of them needed the headache of administrative errors. He was good with details, good with forms, good with protocol. He would happily be the filter that saved them all the trouble of little errors even if it hadn’t been part of his job.

But that didn’t change the fact that it was eleven o’clock on a Wednesday and everyone else had gone home hours ago. Only the late night janitorial staff wandered in and out occasionally, nodding at him in silent greeting as they reset the offices to give the illusion of an endlessly renewable supply of fresh starts. People that didn’t stay late never gave this transformation a second thought. They left the office with full trashcans and small debris scattered on the old carpets, only to return the next morning to find a place untouched by human presence, metal fixtures shining and glass doors free of oily fingerprints. That was just how the world worked for them, generous with new beginnings. People who lingered knew better, that effort was put into the effect. Beginnings were never easy, never flowed so inevitably as the set and rise of the sun.

Hotch had been working late for many years, long before he was even in the BAU. He had learned in law school how to brew the coffee strong enough to stay up all night if need be. How the indoor lighting changed without the support of daylight, tinting the world a thin sickly green color without the natural light to round out the fluorescence. He only got worse about it once he joined the Bureau, the stress of the job causing old habits and old secrets to float to the surface. He compensated by working the hardest, doing the most, never allowing anyone to see him need things that other people needed. He could handle this job, this was all he ever wanted after all. To save the world. Or maybe, more modestly, to save the world of a few.

Now, with Haley gone, Jack with her, somewhere well out of his disastrous reach, there was no reason at all not to fully give in. No reason not to let his insomnia at least be productive. To let the latent self destruction that fueled his actions at least have a positive impact on the people he cared about. He could do that at least.

He rubbed his face with his hands, he was getting loopy. There was no reason to be letting his mind wander so far, there were still reports he could get through. Perhaps, as unlikely as the idea felt, he could even get ahead. He looked back down at the paperwork, letting his feet settle flat on the floor. The letters swam in front of him and he sighed, rolling his pen beneath his thumb, considering. He could probably make it another hour. He could get another pot of coffee into himself. He cast about for his mug, finding it empty on the shelf behind him. He sometimes kept it there to prevent his reports from acquiring telltale dark rings. Rolling back from the desk, he hooked the handle with two fingers and headed out to the kitchenette.

Wrapped up in making plans for what he could finish tonight and what could be left for the morning he was startled to find a light still on in the bullpen. He was certain everyone had gone home long ago. They’d each passed by his office, offering him an out as they made their ways home—perhaps their exit could be the motivation he needed to break out of his office, to head towards his own home. What they didn’t realize was that home was not better for him. Work was far better, far safer, with tasks to complete, a purpose. If he was smart he would stay at work forever.

So he waved to them as they checked out, giving them small smiles that, though imperceptible to strangers, they recognized as both apologies and well-wishes. He knew they worried, that they didn’t like to see him tied to his desk late into the night. They thought it was one of his many methods for making himself suffer but he didn’t have the heart to tell them that this was him making a good decision, this was him trying his very best. In his experience, nothing good happened at home.

He thought he remembered everyone leaving, each goodbye. But every day was the same and they all bled together so he must have missed one because he cannot deny the light down below. As he walked down the stairs, confused by the discovery that he was not as alone as he had been imagining, his tired vision focused better. He could make out dark blond curls and a darker sweater hunched over the desk in the middle of the room.

“Reid?” The name came out as a croak, he hadn’t spoken in hours and probably hadn’t had any water in that time period either. He cleared his throat and said it again, louder and closer to the other man than before. Reid’s head snapped up, expression as guilty as a child caught out of bed.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, eyes wide.

Hotch frowned, not because he was upset but because he was still a little disoriented and his muscles fell back into the most familiar actions.

“I—“ Reid ducked his head and started pushing papers together on his desk, shoving them haphazardly into a file folder. “I was just…” he trailed off, not really having intended on explaining himself. He was simply also startled and reverting to the familiar.

Reid explained compulsively, able to handle the world when parsed down to facts and numbers. He didn’t have a fact for why he had stayed so late, only a feeling and that he didn’t know how to explain. Nights had been particularly lonely recently so he had allowed himself to stay later and later, getting lost in his thoughts at his work desk. Even without people around there was a sense of occupancy, their faint impressions lingering in the air. Plus there was always Hotch up in his office. He didn’t actively think about him or what he was doing but he liked knowing the man was nearby. Hotch’s solid presence always made him feel more secure, less concerned with whatever might jump out at him from the shadows overlapping the world and his mind.

He couldn’t tell Hotch that, was far too embarrassed to admit that sometimes, even with all the lights on, it was too dark in his apartment. No matter the illumination, he couldn’t quite dispel the unease of the night when he was alone. It wasn’t always like this, sometimes he had enough brightness to spare. Recently, however, things had been hard. So much had been going on, he couldn’t quite pinpoint why but he knew he felt uneasy. Too much had changed, there was too much risk that the floor could still fall out beneath him at any moment. And it hadn’t been so long since he’d escaped the consequences of his kidnapping, his addiction, that he trusted himself to be able to manage too much more uncertainty. Backsliding was always a risk and right now the world tilted at a frightening grade. So he let himself stay late in the safety of familiarity, sometimes working but more often not, idly rereading the books he had brought in and forgotten around the office. Tonight he had actually started to doze off, which contributed to his shock upon being discovered.

Hotch continued to frown at him, watching as the thoughts raced across Spencer’s face. He noticed how deep the shadows were beneath his eyes, the way darkness pooled in the space below his cheekbones, as if they were concave impressions filled by seawater. He knew Spencer didn’t eat enough, was all too familiar with the ways too much coffee and not enough calories pinched the skin and exposed the fine lines of capillaries beneath the surface.

“Sorry,” Spencer repeated.

He looked genuinely ashamed and it made Hotch a little sad. Couldn’t Spencer see that he was just as guilty of whatever it was he thought he was doing wrong by being here? He made a conscious effort to soften his expression, to show the warmth he felt for the younger man. After having spent his entire life masking his emotions, protecting himself one of the only ways he could, it wasn’t always easy to show his affection. Especially not at this time of night, when all he could do was cling to his walls and hope to find himself still on solid ground when the sun rose. Spencer wasn’t looking at him, too caught up in his own maze.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Hotch said, trying a different tactic. He was smart, he knew not to make it a demand or a comment on Spencer’s health. It was only an invitation, firm enough for Spencer to know he meant it, that it was not just a pleasantry or an obligation he’d rather avoid. A hand extended, an offer of easy company to pass through a little more of this unwanted time. Spencer looked up from where his fingers were worrying at the corner of the file in front of him and smiled shyly. Hotch smiled back, a real smile that scrunched up his dark shining eyes.

“Give me five minutes to close up,” he said and turned back toward his office. As he packed his briefcase, his heart felt like it had been wrapped in a soft blanket. He didn’t bother questioning it—who didn’t like finding someone to commiserate with when they’d only expected more of the lonely dark?

*

Their late night meals became a regular occurrence. Not every night but once, maybe twice a week, they found themselves the last ones in the office. They fell into a rhythm, each learning to read more from the other’s subtle cues. They almost always went to the same place, a 24-hour diner near the office with deceptively strong coffee and a seemingly endless variety of pancakes. Hotch rarely ordered food, though he encouraged Reid to get anything he wanted. He accepted bites of whatever the younger man ordered, happy enough to reciprocate the excitement over strawberry rhubarb or cinnamon blueberry pancakes.

They talked about inconsequential things, mostly Hotch listening as Reid spun out information on whatever topic was on his mind that day. Reid, for his part, made mental note of the things Hotch responded to and had opinions on. Spencer sought out more information in that vein to bring up. He loved to talk, sure, but what he loved more was to discuss. During the day there was rarely time to let his thoughts wander so freely. It was a dream to have someone there, following along and challenging him with questions, building up new conclusions.

On the nights that followed difficult days, when they were both too stubborn to order anything of substance, they drank their coffees and avoided looking at each other too directly. Those nights they were both tied up in their own thoughts, islands separated by more than just distance, but there was something undeniably pulling them together. It was probably just the natural consequence of having opposite dominant sides but they mirrored each other perfectly across the table. Once, they both happened to reach for their mugs at the same time and the backs of their hands brushed against each other. They each noticed but responded differently. Hotch repressed any reaction, pretending the quick touch of bony knuckles and cool skin hadn’t registered. Maybe it hadn’t. Reid, on the other hand, jumped as if shocked, sloshing the hot coffee into a puddle on the table. This only flustered him more and he yelped at the sting of the liquid and the sting of embarrassment. It wasn’t like they’d never touched before. But here, in this nowhere time they’d constructed, it felt different. In his mind that brief touch became nails dragging across his skin, impossible to ignore. But he pretended the mug was too hot and Hotch didn’t argue, quick to assist with napkins and sounds of agreement to accompany Spencer’s half-coherent excuses.

When their meals were done, mostly cleaned plates of syrup and crumbs stacked to one side, they hesitated before standing up. Hotch always offered to give Reid a ride home, Reid always declined, insisting he could get there himself. This led to Hotch giving him a doubtful look and insisting that it was no trouble. Reid, secretly wanting a ride the whole time, struggled to argue for his self-sufficiency a little longer before giving in. It became a silly thing, both of them knowing exactly how the argument ended but they held onto it for some reason. It was a part of their ritual now, an important piece of the night. It kept this, whatever this was, contained, strictly occasional, random even. Not something they planned for, not something they looked forward to.

Hotch waited for Spencer to get in the door of his building before driving away. He knew it wasn’t necessary, Spencer was a grown man and a trained FBI agent with a weapon. Still, it made him feel better to see him safely inside. Sometimes he thought he would feel even better if he could walk Spencer all the way to his front door. But he knew that would be asking too much. As it was, the nights when they shared this extra hour or two together, extended further by the drive home, had been giving him more than he could have imagined. He wouldn’t dare impose himself further. The brittle excuse of safety would crumble if he were to start following the other man inside. He was not ready to find out what that would mean. He smiled unconsciously as he drove to his apartment. For now, it was enough that he had found companionship on these late nights when he would otherwise be slowly, meticulously, working his way into the grave.

~Part 2~

[ladyyatexel]

I Went On A Manga Binge

So you don't have to

For those of you who have wisely avoided the shreds of it I've left around the blog thus-far, I had some weird notion to go re-experience Yu-Gi-Oh uuuuuh a week ago? We'll go with that. Time is meaningless.

I'd been able to read a good portion of the early manga at the end of highschool, and somewhere in my stacks and stacks of paper is fanart from this dark time, so you know I cared. I also still own a Dark Magician action figure somehow, so. I'd also watched a large portion of the anime with my brother because it had been laced with some kind of crack and we couldn't look away? I remember when we both were just like shit, wait, don't change the channel, I can't stop looking at it. And the next thing we knew we were waiting for new episodes and I was doing research on the Japanese original because I was that kid.

Anyway, unnecessary backstory out of the way, here are some... let's call them Observations and Consequences of having read somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 chapters (and growing) of a manga primarily hinged on card games from a spectrum of sources ranging from boringly lawful to sketchy as fuck.

Surprise actual character that develops in typical shounen fashion being Jounouchi. My limited experiences with the 4Kids dub and only early manga had not painted him in a particularly good light. I don't know if episodes were being aired out of order or if I had just missed the ones that established that he was making shit up as he was going along, but Wow I liked him a lot more going through the manga than I ever did watching the (dubbed, heavily edited and censored and thrown into a slurry machine) anime. I'd managed to come out with the impression that he was just as reasonably experienced with the game as Yugi back in the day. Wild.

I'm now reading every single comic-style post on Tumblr backwards.

Striking inverse to first point, wow, I don't like Seto Kaiba. Though he gets points for his general philosophy of the future, and the line I read in my sketchy online combo of scans and scanlations in which he said, "If God is in your way, you run him down," was Metal As Fuck. I somewhat shame-facedly admit to enjoying him a lot more as an Abridged Series character. (I watched Abridged as it came out back in the day! The experience of watching the anime with my brother had been so fresh that I got all the in jokes about the way things were edited and dubbed, it was great. Series remains influential part of my life to this day, which is hella weird.)

I almost understand how Duel Monsters works now. I don't want this.

That said, wow a lot of the decisions made in the anime made everything a lot more ridiculous than the admittedly already ridiculous original. I got the distinct feeling in the manga that the Duelist Kingdom stuff we were seeing was designed to be used and exploited in ways that don't make sense in an actual cardgame just played on a table like a normal person and this was part of testing everyone to think higher, differently. Maybe this is obvious to everyone already, I don't know. I had always liked that it was very, 'Not so fast, I'm going to blow up the moon to change the tides,' but I'm not really sure the anime gave enough explanation that this was an extra layer added to things for that event? You can see people actively getting used to it in the books, and people who aren't considering the real or 3D nature of it getting owned, but my memory of anime version is everyone just like, 'oh, shucks, fuck me, I forgot to consider the phase of the moon before i played this card, can't believe I forgot.' No one calls Yugi on any of this stuff because it's valid play in that situation. Plus Yami Yugi had mad trickster energy in the beginning and it suited him to think of ways to do things inside these little simulation boxes the way it suited him to set perverts on fire. I imagine the real card game trying to emulate this element as something that would be to its detriment, but I neither know nor particular care haha

Ryou Bakura.

Really, though. I think he became kind of casualty of 'wow, we have a lot of characters who really aren't able to do anything in this story anymore,' despite the fact that his whole inner life could have been as interesting as Yugi's. I always like thinking about the possibilities of stories in which main character falls into magical world and is given magical item and told they're the hero and then they find out they've been the bad guy the whole time. The first several volumes of manga were about the quiet weirdo kid that no one talked to who was always blacking out and turning into a fucked up version of himsef because he was so attached to his ancient Egyptian jewelry, so like, Bakura could have much the same shit going on. I want to know what's happening with him so much. He clearly doesn't love being possessed, but he's also so drawn to the ring. Despite it having stabbed him at least twice and him knowing it's a danger to him and his friends, he keeps being pulled back into it. You see so much more of him being like, 'Oooh, a creepy thing, I love that! :D' in the manga than ever in the anime, which I'm all about. Also more blood. I'm very about that as well. Though my memory of the anime also made it look very much like normal regular daily Bakura was just a weird facade in places before he ever would have been. I think that was it trying to compensate for what people didn't see from the Toei anime, but okay whatever, that I love everything about this guy is not news, I don't need to talk about Bakura excessively here, I'm pretty sure that's gonna show up on my blog by itself

On a related note though, damn, more of these people need to talk to each other. Can we have some existential crisis support clubs or something. Can we get like some apologies or something? "I respect you as a duelist." "Cool, but you literally built a tower designed to specifically assassinate me and my friends? You were supposed to get Better after I retaliated by putting you in a coma, but you kinda didn't." "Why would the coma have made it better" "I just told you it didn't" ---- "Sorry I went along with the plan of your evil parasite stabbing you, misled you, and then also jumped in and took up some real estate in your head too." "I understand, I also have an evil thing inside me that does things while I'm blacked out." "...no, I was conscious for all of that." "Oh." "..." "..." "..." "Do you like Ouija Boards?" "sure okay" ETC. Like damn we are reading shounen manga because no one is talking extensively about their feelings here and I'm tapping my foot angrily.

Holy shit there are so many mythologies happening at once. The ancient family guarding the Egyptian Pharaoh has a surname that's a Mesopotamian goddess. None of the god cards make any Egyptian sense except Ra, and just like. Baaarrrrely. Somewhere either Evil Ring Bakura or Mar/lik makes a reference to cremation and spirits being taken to heaven with smoke which several things, but definitely not Ancient Egyptian. Marik/Malik meanwhile is clearly trying to head Arabic, along with Rishid, but then, hey, our sister is just Isis. Goddess McGoddess. Sometimes they're the same goddess! Her name could be Isis Isis or Ishtar Ishtar. Meanwhile, all the obviously 'occult because Christians think it is freaky' stuff. ~ancient egyptian pentagrams~~~This isn't a complaint, I guess so much as a 'Wow, I can kind of see the cultural spot the author was coming from and where he was aiming' kind of thing.

Wonder where things would have gone if the card games had not been latched onto the way they were.

Managed to forget how gross the pre-cardgames stuff was on the sexual harassment front. I'm glad there was a sort of explanation of everyone drifting away from being dick heads and that that decision was made. It got way more comfortable to read after no one was bringing Yugi p*rn on VHS.

Yugi looks better with a nose, glad we got that upgrade.

Interesting to watch the series style shift as it goes away from being horror to being over the top cardgames and friendship (with blood!). The first picture of Mokuba is fucking Jarring. Also noticed that the nicer a character is, the less their teeth are defined.

Glad manga did not go as completely off the fucking the rails about Marik's face. I never got as far as seeing him back in the day because college occurred, but I remember seeing pictures and stuff and being like, "what in the Fuck happened to that dude, I think the house style has collapsed in on itself"

Things the author Really Likes: motorcycles, belts, SHOES, holy shit the shoes. These are some of the most lovingly rendered sneakers I've ever seen. All the detail on his characters goes straight to their feet and then it's stretched upward until it forms stiff peaks. Gently fold in 3000 years of trauma and bake face down in a crumb coat of scattered mythology. Remove when you roll two zeros.

Where the fuck am I going to put the extremely large omnibus volumes of this comic I purchased in order to balance out how much I would be reading for free on the internet. I should have grasped that a three in one edition would be Thick and yet somehow I was still :O when it arrived. Have I strategically purchased volumes that contain my favorite parts, maybe, what's it to you will i eventually get the whole thing because incomplete book series gnaw on my soul? yes

Wish the transition from "I've murdered several people in delightfully karmic ways" to "all you need is friendship in your heart and cards in your hand" Yami Yugi/Pharaoh had been discussed more/transitioned better. Buddy, where did you get this approved for television high horse? Please go back to strangling people with yo-yos or at least tell me why you stopped.

I still can't tell anything that looks like a big robotic monster apart from any other big robotic monster. My dude, I can't tell cars apart, all these monsters look the same.

Yami Yugi fascinated me way more in highschool? Maybe because it was still super early and the anime was like 'we need to torture you about his origins WeEkLy. Now I'm just like 'wait hold on, can we go back to Bakura and Marik for a minute, there's some extreme unpacking to do here?' Those two are paying so much more in baggage fees here my guy wow

Violently uninterested in any of the spinoff media

[deaththesyd]

To The Brink Of Confession: Chapter 2, Fester

A bit shorter, but there's gotta be a build-up, right?

@mytanuki-kun

Summary: The feelings of worry, frustration, and hurt fester.

Deflecting onto Hidan only worked for a short while after their conversation. Despite what Hidan seemed to think, she had been aware that her feelings were somewhat reciprocated, at least until recently. Kisame was always so friendly, and dare she say sweet with her that it was hard for her to ignore the inkling that he was interested. It was all so circumstantial though, that it was hard to find any clear moments she could point to. Bumping into her, always steadying her with a chuckling apology, saying he just never saw her. Always finding that he was in close enough quarters to brush against her gently, something that with any other would have made her uncomfortable. Taking care of her, constantly looking out for her, making sure she ate enough, rested, offering his large cloak whenever she was cold, even though it was so large on her that it dragged on the ground. These were all things that made her heart flutter with hope, yet could all be brushed off as just him being friendly and feeling responsible for her since she wasn’t a shinobi.

Confidence was something she actively had to work at. Showing her affections came naturally, she had never had any trouble being forward with her feelings, but allowing herself to pursue perceived affection from others was so much riskier than giving a compliment or saying she appreciated someone's company. Risking looking arrogant and self-important made her doubt what she so wanted to believe were the signs that he was as greedy as her. Months of questioning his actions had led up to her deciding to say something, to confess, but before she could he was gone. It hurt that their banter was missing from her days, his sharp grin now only visible when she walked in on a conversation he was having with someone else. No longer was he close enough to accidentally nudge her in the kitchen, nor did he sit on the couch next to her taking up more room than he needed, pressing a muscled thigh against her soft one, arm lazily slung over the backrest behind her. It was clear on his face when she tried to talk that he was uncomfortable, and he practically ran away when he could. All the built-up confidence was toppled over by his very clear avoidance of her.

It hurt. More than she would have expected. Even if she had managed to work up the courage to say something and he turned her down, she would have been fine with that. As long as he could still be her friend, someone she didn’t feel guilty relying on, who always had her stomach aching with the laughter he tore from her. His possible rejection was something she had been preparing for, but his complete absence was unaccounted for.

Following Hidan and Kakuzu for the remainder of her stay had left her plenty of time to think in between mediating the two violent criminals, and when she had been returned back to her home she was left alone to think even more. The doubt that he had ever had any feelings for her grew, and eventually turned to fear that she had been projecting onto him while he was merely tolerating her antics. Maybe he had simply been, making the best of his situation by trying to find entertainment with her, but she just wasn’t enough. That thought stung hard and she tried to force herself to focus on other things. Work, family, friends, hobbies, distracted her for a while, but it was always in the back of her mind. ‘What did I do?’

Weeks of him taking up her time and worry eventually turned her hurt into frustration. ‘He’s a grown man, why’s he avoiding me like a child?’ She mentally huffed. Resentment was bubbling under the surface, making her snippy at work, short-tempered with her friends. As mad as she was becoming with him, there was still the ache of loss that she tried to bury under her rising fury. The days passed quickly, yet they dragged so slowly as the date of the Akatsuki’s return approached. Prepping for their arrival was a routine and distracting task which she greatly appreciated yet dreaded as it meant the reason she felt so distressed was closer to coming face to face with her again. ‘That's if he even lets me see him,’ she thought bitterly.

Itachi hadn’t taken long at all to notice the change in his mood. Presuming that Kisame was simply disoriented with the sudden change in environment was proven wrong as the dark and prodding humor of his partner morphed into something that seemed fueled by pessimism instead of the usual attempt to make his straight-faced counterpart smile. The reason wasn’t exactly clear, but he had a guess as to why the normal hunger for violence had doubled seemingly overnight. He was torturing himself.

Romantic feelings were prohibited by his own past and his future plans; Itachi had no space and no desire for complicated emotions like those that swarmed his tall, blue, friend. His inability to relate didn’t mean he didn’t care. Dulled as the world was to him now, he had always been a sensitive person, someone who couldn’t help but take the burden of others so as to lessen their strain in life, and Kisame’s burdens were impacting him already as they seemed to leave every battlefield scattered with shredded fleshy lumps that almost resembled bodies. Allowing the bottled-up angst to fester would only cause the lid to burst off with force, he trusted Kisame in the middle of a fight, but outside of tearing flesh and covering his partner back, he was less predictable. To Itachi, it was becoming clear that the extra aggression was his way of compensating for the lack of freedom he allowed when interacting with her. It would have been humorous if it wasn’t pitiful to see the clear hurt his actions caused her. For someone who had made it clear he would tear limb from limb anyone who did her wrong, he was ironically treading down the path of having to kick his own ass.

Stepping in had seemed the correct decision, yet all he was met with was denial and deflection. It was clear that the topic was undiscussable for the time being, and was unlikely to be resolved simply by Itachi’s intervention. As the day of their return to her residence was growing nearer, Kisame’s ferocity intensified, and Itachi’s patience with his partner’s lack of communication began to wear thin.

[pluviophile-imagines]

17 with compress

Ooooo hell yeah the old man deserves more love. This is super late and the only prompt I’m posting for the night, so it’s a little longer as compensation (and also bc this reader was so much fun 🙈) I like Mr Compress a lot, he’s so hot 😳

17: height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes

You wish you could say you planned this, but it’s almost better that it’s fate. There, before you, stands your former partner in crime (literally), and you’d be a fool not to understand that he’s here for the same thing you are—but to steal it, or to protect it? Either would be fun.

“Been a while, Hiro!”

His head whips around to you as you laugh, bracing your foot up on the railing of the catwalk you’re looking down at him from.

You haven’t seen Atsuhiro in a year and a bit, not since he and you decided to part ways after a few months of utter paradise together, deciding mutually that getting attached in your shared line of work was, perhaps, not the greatest of plans.

Unfortunately, as the saying goes, absence makes the heart grow stronger, and it’s impossible to deny or resist the grin on your face when you see him, or the way your heart flutters when you see the familiar mask on his face (you’d made it for him, all those months ago; kind of cheesy, looking back, but he’s wearing it).

“This is a pleasant surprise.” He takes off the mask, leaving him in his balaclava. “You look well, my dear.”

“Yeah? You like the new suit?” You shove yourself off the catwalk, letting yourself fall slightly before activating your quirk to pop up right behind him, back-to-back. Your gloved hand finds a familiar home on his chest, splayed and slightly awkward until you turn heel smoothly to face him, keeping your front pressed against his arm. “Giran got it for me. I think it suits me.”

“Many things suit you, beautiful.”

“I’m glad you still agree.” There’s a large wooden crate right in front of him, so you use your quirk again, eyes locking on the top of it so that you pop in right there, watching in amusement and satisfaction as Atsuhiro stumbles just slightly, already having been leaning into you for the mere moments you’d touched him.

“Where’s the shipment, love?” you ask, soft and sweet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You hum, stepping towards the crate’s edge and then dropping down to sit fully with your legs dangling over the side.

“You do so, Hiro, but we can put that on hold a moment. It’s been ages. I heard you’re running with the League of Villains.” You pout, tilting your head, relishing in the way his eyes lock onto your lips. “I hope you haven’t replaced me so easily.”

“Nobody could replace you, dearest. You know that.”

“Just checking.”

“You ought to consider joining up. The boss would love to have you.”

“The boss?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I would love to have you,” he corrects without missing a beat.

You hum again, swinging your legs and propping your head in your hand as if considering it. “It’d have to pay well, you know the life I lead, handsome.”

“Better than your employer tonight?” Atsuhiro reaches into his jacket and pulls out your phone—a burner that had been in your back pocket, ready for him to take.

“You’ve always been so good with your hands,” you purr, leaning forward. “The shipment. Did you marble it? Where are you hiding it?”

You try not to grin when he subconsciously does as you’d been enticing him to do and approaches you. He’s marbled the shipment, certainly, and you have a hunch where he’s hiding it. You just need access to his mouth, which you’re more than happy to have an excuse to do.

Your arms come to rest over his shoulders as you bend down, tilting his head upward so that you can kiss him.

For a moment, you allow yourself into the bliss that is kissing Atsuhiro. You’ve missed him, truly; if you can execute your plans fully, if everyone does as they ought to, perhaps in a week’s time you’ll take up his offer and join his League, at which point you’ll be able to do this as often as you’d like.

But your employer is paying you more than handsomely to steal Shigaraki Tomura’s shipment, and you’re not going to half-ass that. So you’re happy to discover the marble tucked under your former lover’s tongue. He’s solidly distracted by your hands tracing over his cloth-covered scalp like you know he loves and doesn’t notice until you’re pulling away, eyes locked back up on the catwalk so that your quirk can teleport you there before he can recover from your kiss.

The marble in your mouth and the hat in your hand are all the victory you need, but you stall for a moment, happily placing his hat upon your head and plucking the marble from your mouth to place into your pocket (he won’t open it, you know, with the risk that you’ll be hurt).

“Arrivederci, Hiro,” you announce, bowing with a flourish.

Then you’re running off, reaching into the pocket of your suit to pull out the antique spyglass that’s become your staple to teleport far away, but not before you hear Atsuhiro call after you, “Well played, darling.”

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Cosmic {1}

Lewis Tan x OFC Jupiter Azari

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Flirting, POV Changes, Fake Social Media Inserts

Words: 4k

Summary: Lewis has been single for three years after a stifling relationship that ended because of his reluctance to make a strong enough commitment. In that time, he’s focused on his career and living his life to the fullest. His goal was to have worthwhile experiences and make lasting connections. He’s got the experiences part down, but he’s never felt any sort of lasting connection until he’d seen your posts. After months of stalking your Instagram, he can’t stop thinking about you and decides to take a chance. Maybe it was time for him to take a chance on something new. 

Note: *Sigh* Another one, I know. *Deeper Sigh*. I apologize for the blurriness in some of the FAKE IG DMs. I’ve been working on this for so long, and finally, I can post a little something for it. Please tell me what you think. I am so excited to hear your thoughts.

Thank you guys so much for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/ Proofread***

***Interactive***

***Fake IG Post Creations***

-Lewis-

 He’d been single for a long time now. Three years. He’d been in a serious relationship for twice as long, so the math was right to him. There was no lying that he missed some of the advantages of relationships and having someone to journey through life’s ups and downs with. He missed things such as intimate dinner dates, entwining his fingers with someone else’s and relishing the feel of skin against skin, getting to know someone almost as well as he knew himself, and deep, fulfilling conversations. One of the most significant things he missed was companionship.

He knew he was not an unattractive guy. He also knew that being who he was, he could meet people effortlessly have a series of no strings attached romances where his physical needs were minimally satisfied for a short time. That was not a problem, but he’d long realized that was never enough for him. He needed more—a lot more. His busy schedule didn’t help matters at all, either. He was either on a flight every week or going between fight practice, meetings, filming, and a lot more. It took time to nourish a relationship and mold it so it could blossom into something strong and beautiful, time he just didn’t have. It was a simple fact—or so he thought.

 More and more, he’d been feeling as if maybe he could make that time; maybe he could find a way to have the highly sought after satisfying professional life but also that deeply fulfilling personal life. Maybe it was possible without having something or someone fall to the side. He began to think maybe he was ready to address his other needs.

 Groaning, he looked at the clock beside him. Two o’clock. Rolling out of bed, he walked into his bathroom. The day before was a long one; he hadn’t gotten in until nearly three in the morning. This was the first day in several that he’d been able to get more than seven hours of sleep. His body was telling him something. After tackling his hygiene routine, he pulled on a pair of his athletic quick-dry leggings and shorts then made his way to the back of his beach house.

It was another beautiful day in Spain, and he was ready to carpe diem the hell out of it—after he got his jog in. As he ran his standard four miles, his mind wandered to a variety of topics. He ran down his schedule for the next few days, went over his goals for the month, and made mental notes of things he needed to get done for the week. He believed in discipline, and the utmost show of discipline was having some over one’s life. Perhaps it was something he learned from his father as he trained in martial arts, or maybe it was a life lesson he’d picked up after so many years in the industry, both working and associating.

 By the time he plopped down onto the cool sand, almost two hours had passed, and he was sweaty and out of breath. He panted while gaping at the softy rolling waves and the faint sounds of the seagulls. It was a sight to be seen, one he was appreciative of. As he was getting lost in the view, a reminder popped up on his phone.

 *Social Media update*

 Sighing, he opened up his Instagram account and scrolled through his feed. If he didn’t set reminders for himself about social media, he would forget it entirely. He was one of those people who preferred to live life unfiltered and didn’t see a need to blog or vlog every little thing. He liked to share meaningful things. On the other hand, his team made it a priority for him to do more than share meaningful things. Their motto is if you’re not being seen or talked about, your brand and existence are inconsequential.

 So, four times a day, he had reminders set up. The plan was to engage with his fans while showing his personality. His agent’s exact words were; “Show the world what a swoon-worthy guy Lewis Tan is.”

 Just as he clicked over to his drafts, he registered her face. Quickly he tapped back onto his feed and on her recent post. It was an incredibly artistic photo of what could have been the universe, or even the mind’s third eye, or possibly a woman giving birth. It was just that subjective, but it was done in a way that made it seem as if you were looking through a kaleidoscope. He sat there marveling at the first photo, not even realizing there were three more that accompanied it.

 As he swiped through them, his mind was further blown. Each one gave off a psychedelic vibe. When he got to the last one, he found himself sighing out at the sight of her. The caption was,  “Art is subjective; who do you see?” Her face was one that easily held someone captive. Her eyes were impossibly deep and inviting. They drew him in, in a haunting and mysterious way. Even her username was creative as fuck. JupiterFallingToEarth.

 He’d spent weeks following her activity. She posted every day about once a day, sometimes two, and her posts ranged from artistic shots of landscapes, items, herself, and then she also posted products and fashion. It was clear she was a lifestyle blogger, and according to some of her posts, she was probably an influencer of some sort. There was something about her that drew him in from the first post he accidentally came across. That was four months ago.

 Since then, he’d practically stalked her page. The second he got a notification that she’d posted something, he was looking at it soon after. When he saw her stories, they always put a smile on his face. She was effortlessly adorable and sexy at the same time. It was a contradiction but one that you wore well. He didn’t know if he’d turned into one of those guys he’d seen countless times on Instagram. The ones who stalked a woman’s page and liked every single one of her posts and left vague comments under her pictures that could come off as creepy. He feared he had turned into that man.

 His interactions with her hadn’t gone to creepy lengths. He’d liked most of your posts, never commented because gossip was a real thing in his world, but liked other people’s comments under your posts. Sometimes he’d even tune in if you were on lives, and every time he watched, he was always filled with an urge to know you—really. He wondered if you’d even noticed he’d liked your pictures or if you’d gone to his page from curiosity to get lost in his content. One thing was sure; you’d never liked any of his posts. He’d noticed.

 “Get a fucking grip, man.”

 To help him on his way, he dropped his phone in the sand and ran to the waves hoping the water would do the trick. The coldness of the water shocked him, but it was a welcomed shock. Swimming further out to sea, he fought against the tide. Though he was exhausted, and his limbs were damn near numb, he pushed himself for just a little longer.  

 Ten minutes later, he dropped back onto the sand by his belongings while trying to catch his breath. That swim had his adrenaline surging competing with his exhaustion. Grabbing his phone, he went back to his drafts. Rather than posting one of them, he took a few shots of himself as he was dripping wet and all. Deciding on a relaxed-looking one, he prepped it to post. Before he did, though, he added a caption.

With it posted, he hopped to it. After a quick shower, he was off to tackle the day. On the agenda were three meetings for some brands that wanted him to work with them. The first up was a local Spanish sunglass brand, Vosotros. Throughout the meeting, he could tell that the campaign that they wanted to do was centered around bodies. Since the brand translated to the word “you,” their pitch was why not focus on everyone’s best selling feature—their body. It was a bit shallow for him, but the product was nice, and the pay was equally as appealing.

 After signing the contract, he moved to the second meeting. This one was for a couture men’s wear brand, Alma. This one he was familiar with. He’d worn many of their suits. They were comfortable but stylish and made from the best fabrics. He always felt like a million bucks when he wore them. This one was a no-brainer for him, and the compensation was the icing on the cake.

 Right before the third meeting began, he found he was running a little bit empty. The last time he’d had a meal was the night before. Before the meeting started, he pulled out his phone with the intent to figure out what was nearby so he could refuel once the meeting was finished. Once he saw the notifications, he opened up Instagram just to glance at them, but after scrolling through the eight thousand, among them, he found her name. Thinking he’d seen things, he scrolled all the way back to the top to refresh it, then scrolled back down, and sure enough, there it was.

 She’d liked six of his posts back to back. He couldn’t stop the wide grin that spread across his face. It was so broad that anyone would have thought he’d never gotten a like in his life. He spent the next few minutes going through which posts she’d liked. Each one made him smile wider and wider. By the time the prospective employers walked in, he was refueled enough to carry him through the rest of the day.

 ~~~~~~~~~~ 

-Y/N-

You’d finally bit the bullet. After four months of seeing the notifications on every one of your posts that he’d liked it or liked a comment under; it was about time. Right? The truth was you noticed each of them. The first time you got the notification, you almost fell out of your seat. You knew who he was because you’d seen one or two things that he’d been in and always thought he was hot, but of course, it was in passing. After the second notification of his like, you rushed to his page to go through each of his posts and found yourself salivating over every picture.

 After about half an hour, you got snapped back to your senses. The odds of it being him were slim to none. While you knew many celebrities liked to troll social media for their next piece of ass or entertainment, you never got that vibe from him. You deduced it must have been either a fan page or catfish at its best. So what did you do? Ignored it.

 You ignored every notification and did your best to shrug off the basal instinct that had your belly fluttering. In total, you had nearly two hundred posts, and he’d liked each and every one of them. It was a lot of ignoring. Today though, something came over you, and that something had you going to his page to see his new post. You couldn’t do anything else but stare. The truth was your finger slipped to tap the heart, and once you did, you tapped it again to unlike, but you knew once a like went through, you couldn’t take it back. Your only option was to deal with it. You dealt with it by liking five more of his pictures. Go big or go home, right.

 After ten minutes, you were still lamenting over if you should have or shouldn’t have. The internal conflict in you was high, especially when you began to kick yourself for overthinking it. There was no way it was really him. It was impossible. With that in mind, you calmed yourself enough to meet up with your friends. After pressing mute on your notifications, you proceeded to get yourself ready. It had been a good week since you and your friends had gotten the opportunity to hang out due to your busy schedules.

 When you were more than halfway there, your excitement began bubbling. When the four of you got together, it was always a good time. As soon as the Lyft dropped you off at the restaurant, a new construction that all four of you were dying to try, you were more than ready to eat, drink, and laugh. You stood outside for a few moments to admire the chosen exterior décor. It was an intricate mix of modern and seaside charm. It definitely was something different for the neighborhood.

 Walking inside past a line of about twelve or so people, you marveled at the entrance of the restaurant. Whoever designed it truly did a fabulous job. It was featured in the papers as one of the best new restaurants to try out in the downtown area. The way they’d incorporated indoor plants seriously captivated your attention.

“Welcome to Creator, my name is Kenji,” began the host who towered over you by like eight inches and bore green-hazel eyes. He was cute. “Do you have a reservation?” His smile was wide, and it showed off that his two front teeth were bigger than all the others. He made it work, though.

 “Yes. I believe my party is already here. I’m not sure who it’s under, though.”

 Kenji scanned the list of names on the iPad before her. As he did that, you scrolled through your texts to find the details that Zoë sent you. After a few short moments, he glanced back at you. After you found the reservation name, you rolled your eyes. Your friends thought they were funny.

 “Found it?”

 “Yes, and I apologize in advance,” you began. Kenji, the host, wrinkled his brow, not getting it. He would, though.

 Clearing your throat, held your head high, then spoke. “Punani Dasani.”

 Kenji’s eyes widened, then he pinched his lips tightly before he nodded and tapped a few keys on the iPad.

 “Wow. Eh-em. Yep, they’re here.”

 Nodding, you dropped your phone back into your clutch. When you looked back up, you caught Kenji’s eyes glued to your cleavage. When his eyes met yours, the embarrassment in them was obvious. Dipping his head, he signaled for you to follow him.

 The two of you walked through the restaurant under low hung plants, vines, and flowers. It was like walking through the garden of Adam and Eve. That must be what the owner had in mind when naming it Creation. It was clever, you thought. Just then, Kenji approached the table with your three friends. Once they saw you, they made a loud “Skeee” sound bringing the attention to those nearby. You couldn’t take them anywhere.

 “You guys think you’re funny with the reservation name?”

 They all laughed at you as you dipped down and greeted each of them with cheek kisses.

 “How did he look at you? From the way he keeps looking back, I can bet he wanted to sample that punani Dasani,” Tati joked to each of their delight.

 They were a trip, always had been. You, Tati, Monaè, and Zoë had been friends since high school and somehow managed to remain tight even though you each went your separate ways to different colleges. You each had spent two years apart until you came back together to finish your final two years of university together.

 “Don’t be mad. He wasn’t that cute anyway,” Monaè said, opening the menu before her.

 Cold-hearted, you thought as you did the same. Dinner progressed with laughs and stories of your days and recent happenings in your lives. As you ate, you decided to forget everything else and just enjoy yourself. You were in desperate need of a girl’s night, so you vowed to enjoy it fully.

 The food was delicious. Somehow they’d managed to make it taste healthy but also savory and completely indulgent. You felt as if every bite you took added thirty pounds, but you knew it wasn’t possible. The flavors all melded together so well that you wanted to send a message to the chef, letting them know they’d done well.

After a deeply fulfilling meal, the four of you piled into a Lyft and made it to your favorite club, Surge.  The music in the club was so loud that you could feel it bouncing inside of you. After getting your first round of drinks, the dancing began, and when the four of you got together with drinks and music, it was always an event.  You jumped into the middle of your circle and busted out your wine. Tati grabbed your phone from your hands and began recording you. Ignoring the camera and the gathering crowd, you allowed the alcohol to do its job and take you away.

 When you heard your friends cheering you on, you decided to really bust out your moves. Dropping to the floor, you did your best twerk. Holding your drink in the air, you began to wine your hips as you stood. It was one of your favorite moves. When you turned around, you saw Tati up close and personal. Slapping your hand in front of the lens, you giggled as you took your phone back to end the recording.

 “Jesus girl, those hips definitely don’t lie,” Monaè teased, making all your friends laugh.

 From behind, you felt someone approach you and place their hand on your waist. Turning, you gave him the rays of death with your stare telling him to back off. As quickly as he’d had the audacity to put his hand on you, he took it off just as quickly and backed away.

 “And don’t come back,” Zoë shouted.

 By the time you made it back home, it was three in the morning, and your feet hurt almost as much as your ass did. After leaving the club, the four of you had an impromptu photo shoot that lasted almost forty-five minutes and ended with you on your ass at the bottom of the pile once you’d tried some ridiculous cheerleading pose trying to relive your high school days. Big mistake.

 After a quick shower that had you almost falling asleep a few times, you dove into your bed, ready for some well-deserved rest. Just as you’d gotten comfortable, your phone’s alarm went off. Groaning, you reached over the edge of the bed, grabbing your bag to rifle through it. With your phone in hand, you blearily stared at the harsh light making your eyes feel as if they hadn’t closed in days rather than hours. You went to your alarm to turn it off, deciding that your routine dawn photo expedition would have to be rescheduled. You were too exhausted.

 Just as you were going to toss it away, you saw the notification of messages on Instagram. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you slid it down to get a preview. Through the blur in your eyes, you saw an icon that looked familiar. Tapping it, you nearly swallowed your tongue when you saw Lewis Tan’s image. Bolting upright, you coughed and slid to brace your back on your headboard.

 “What the--!”

The minute you saw it, you couldn’t believe your eyes. He’d send you a message. Chewing your bottom lip, you studied the time he’d sent it—over four hours ago. You then realized he’d see that you saw it, and you debated in your head if you should reply.

 “Jesus, get it together. Just say something simple,” you coached.

It was weak, but it was the best you had. You wondered if he would think it was weak too. As you obsessed about that, you also realized just how late it was. You’d responded to a DM at booty call hours. Rolling your eyes, you slouched back on your headboard. Your eyelids were heavy, and they drooped, trying to tell you something. Once they closed, your phone chimed that elaborate tone for your notifications.

Why had you responded? It was clear this was some fan page who either was using his image to catfish or gain followers. You never responded to questionable DMs, and this was as questionable as they got.

Even though you were still fighting your sleep, part of you was intrigued.

Flipping your smart TV on, and you turned to the Netflix app and found something for background noise.

Nibbling your bottom lip, you thought for a few moments. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol that had you thinking this deeply or if it was something else.

You snorted and shook your head. “He’s really going down with the ship, huh.”

This was always the reaction when anyone found out your name. They were always shocked and speechless. Usually, you got a few corny jokes or mentions about your favorite planet must be Jupiter or bring up some astronomy fact that was always wrong. It was annoying. You braced yourself for some equally corny mention from him.

The corny mention never came.

Your heart fluttered, and you couldn’t help but cheese from his compliment. You hadn’t expected it. Though you tried to stop smiling, you couldn’t. There was something about his words. It wasn’t like you’d never heard sweet words before. You had. This shouldn’t have been any different.

The exhaustion began to take a more significant hold, and you slid lower, tucking your comforter underneath your chin.

Filming? What the heck was he talking about, you wondered. He was really taking this shit a little too far.

You bolted upright again. Was he seriously going to take this that far?

He was insane, absolutely mental. You were so damn ready to end this. One thing you hated was dishonesty. You especially hated being toyed with.

There was no way that he could prove it. What was he going to do?

He thought you were an idiot. He must have. Your anger was rising.

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone beside you. You knew the chances of him passing this test were slim to none. You couldn’t believe that you’d given up the last thirty minutes of sleep for this. Groaning, you dropped back down, determined to drift away to sleep. Almost two minutes passed before you heard your chime again. Fighting the urge, you turned to your side, trying your best to ignore the fact that you knew he’d sent something.

After two minutes of curiosity killing you, you flung your hand back, grabbed your phone while flipping onto your back. You held your phone above your face, opened the app, and there he was.

Your jaw dropped, and your eyes drank in every inch and rippling ab. Jesus, you thought. As you were bringing your phone closer, you didn’t register that a video call was coming in. without even realizing it, you answered, and the same image you’d been looking at moments ago was now live. The only difference was the frame wasn’t as low to show his incredible abs. It cut right at his chest, giving you a peek at his dark, dusty rose nipples. You were utterly frozen. He smiled and raked his hand through his hair before he bit onto his bottom lip. It was Lewis fucking Tan.

 “Enough proof for you?” He smiled, and that was when your phone slipped and fell right in your face.

 “Fuck, owww!”

 The pain was so strong you were tearing up. Rolling to the side, you rubbed your face, then searched for your phone. When you got to it, the video call had ended, showing you your home screen.

 You began to freak out. “Oh my god, oh my god! What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[sepublic]

Accommodating the Curse

           Again, it’s heartbreaking how Eda initially must’ve thought that the curse was something she could easily live through and get by with a few elixirs here or there, to the point where it may not have even been noticeable- That to her, all this meant was an extra drink doused here or there, and that’s it! Considering the kind of bold person that Eda is, she really might not have batted much of an eye, even if she’s still unhappy that someone cursed her in her sleep to begin with and it’s technically still an ongoing issue that’ll cost money… Because obviously, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place, but at least Eda can get by like nothing happened, right? This doesn’t have to CHANGE anything, not in any notable, substantial way…?

           And then it just gets worse. The curse begins actively affecting Eda outside of the transformations, making her tired, making her older and her hair gray… It’s even hindering her magic as the curse starts becoming more frequent and needy, and then suddenly it’s an elixir a day that’s needed, and that’s getting all the more costly and cumbersome for Eda. She needs to find a reliable source, she needs the good amount of snails to afford those elixirs (which could play into her being a bit of a pickpocket and slightly greedy), and she can’t really enjoy herself as free and unbridled as she used to without having to stop and go back to prioritize her medicine. More and more, this curse insists on interfering with her life, when it already caused quite a ruckus the first time- Because ruining Eda’s social life and causing her terror and distress in the initial periods of figuring it out wasn’t enough… She can never be sure if she has the curse fully figured out and thus she can be sure if she’s truly accepted and learned to live with it, because it keeps evolving.

           Eda can’t be sure if this is something she can live with, because she has no idea how far the curse can go- And so she has to account for worst-case scenarios, and that restricts Eda from the life she wanted because what happens if the curse gets worse and she’s in a vulnerable position? And that means staying at home, alone, more and more… Eda’s playing it safe and missing out, even when there may not have been a need to because she can never be certain, and it contributes to why she’s so adaptable and just accepts things in stride, immediately working with them instead of letting it soak in how it’s all been changed and disrupted. Eda can never truly settle down lest she have to move things around again and adjust her life around the curse accordingly, it’s a large and unruly, disregarding beast that keeps taking up space and shifting around with Eda having to navigate around it the entire time, no room to breathe. It might shed hairs that make Eda sneeze, or slobber all over the place- Never get comfortable because anything is liable…

           Eda used to not have a care in the world, she used to be so happy as a kid- And now she has to deliberately consider what she does with the curse on her mind, so it’s really hard to live life as if it’s not there, to not have her mind and actions wrapped around it in the end. Even when the curse isn’t there, Eda has to think about it and how it could get worse, so she couldn’t enjoy herself as the free adult she was supposed to; Obviously Eda still had room to experiment in relationships given her long list of exes… But I do have to wonder how many exes were superficially turned off in reaction to Eda’s curse, and it worsening- And how Eda may have had resentment and bitterness at the curse for ruining her relationships, only to realize that anyone who’d cut ties with her over the curse, probably wasn’t worth it anyway.

          Still, Eda’s condition interfering with other activities (including her weakened magic) would really sour her attitude and bring up old pains, thereby preventing Eda from moving on because even when she tries to forget about the curse, others will bring it up to her- Like Lilith. Obviously Eda was still able to enjoy the freedom of being on the run and escaping the system, and that clearly helped offset the restrictions of the curse… But it must’ve been hard, if not impossible, to ignore the curse and only think about it whenever Eda had to take her elixir, or when the curse became relevant- Because it could always be relevant, and it’d just make Eda feel like her entire life revolved around the curse. Every thought and happy moment had the disclaimer of “But…” regarding the curse in order to dampen her mood.

          Eda can’t fully enjoy herself, it must’ve felt so restrictive and it could’ve felt like her identity was ‘Cursed Eda’ rather than Eda as she always was, but with a curse. Eda can’t ever really move on from the curse, because it might and will get worse. Those moments where she can just live life as if she’d never been cursed at all, like she could pretend it wasn’t there- They become fewer and farther in between, as the curse takes up more of her time, suffocates Eda with the constant reminder of what she has and what she doesn’t, and invasively contributes to the idea that Eda as a person has permanently changed to be of the curse, not just occasionally with it.

          Eda could feel less like her original, happy self, and more like a curse/condition that needs to be taken care of, constantly maintained instead of a carefree witch who only needs to consider her own happiness and fulfillment. She might feel more like a problem that constantly needs to be looked after, instead of a person… And it doesn’t help how the transformations can literally cause Eda to lose her sense of self. Particularly worrying is the implication that the curse is messing with her memories, making Eda feel like she’s losing grasp of herself, and causing her to forget the childhood when she wasn’t cursed- So more and more, it feels like she’s always had the curse, and that her entire life and identity has been marred by it, that Eda is nothing without it and defined by her condition. 

         It’d feel heartbreakingly frustrating and unfair for her, to be so completely blind-sided around this sudden curse, having her life gradually flipped upside down and being almost helpless to do anything but search for a cure and fail. It goes from “I’m Eda living life as I always have and occasionally I have to step aside and deal with the curse” to “I’m always dealing with the curse and then sometimes I can just be the Eda I used to be.” It’s like the curse has overtaken, overridden Eda, replaced her original life and identity that’d been planned and intended by Eda with something else- AKA her Owl Beast form, and how it sometimes acts like a different person and won’t recognize her loved ones at first. And it’d just conflict with Eda’s belief in making your own destiny, choosing your own life, when this curse has come out of nowhere and decided so much of that for her, now dictating a huge portion of what her future will be like and stripping a lot of autonomy from Eda in that sense, especially when she transforms and can’t control her actions.

          So maybe it just causes Eda’s sort of ‘screw-it’, somewhat apathetic attitude at times because this may as well happen, so let’s just get it over with and be done, and it just makes her tired. It’s somewhat an acceptance, but also an exhausted resignation as well, so Eda doesn’t bat an eye and doesn’t fixate on what could be better, just what could be worse, so she’s glad it doesn’t get as bad as it could be, when really she needs to focus on how it could be even better- And so Eda’s never quite able to make the changes to society that she always wanted to, because she’s still too busy holding onto and maintaining whatever she can, minimizing her losses…

           It’s kind of like how Luz had to work to minimize her losses by the Season Finale- Eda still lost her magic, but at least Luz and Eda didn’t lose each other… And they DID get Lilith, admittedly! Though whether or not she compensates for their losses at all is something they need to figure out… And Lilith will have to decide if she can make up for it as well- Especially with Luz and Eda somewhat resigned to the idea of just being glad they didn’t lose what they could’ve, that it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been… So why not provide a pleasant surprise for them, Lilith, and make some things better? Luz and Eda taught Lilith that things can get better so you may as well try, Lilith can remind them what they showed her, how they’d always lived by this principle themselves! Do the good to themselves that they’ve done unto others.

           Eda wasn’t ever able to truly relax until Luz came along and Lilith had a change of heart, but even then… Eda always expects that things will come and go and change, and so she’s blindsided when she has to account for someone like Luz being a permanent presence, a relationship to get invested in and thus take proper care of; When initially, Eda wasn’t too concerned and thus not the most providing. She likely expected Luz to eventually leave, either when she learned of the curse or had to go back home by the end of summer, so no point in getting attached if she’s going to lose it- But Luz reminds Eda that she’s always been a ‘live-in-the-now’ kind of witch, who has no regrets; Surely she won’t regret enjoying her time with Luz, even if it might end.

           But, getting back to the curse- It really hurts during Sense and Insensitivity, when Eda is all nonchalant and apathetic, and then… She notices how the curse is worsening in her reflection and genuinely freaks for a moment. It terrifies her when Eda realizes that the curse is getting even worse, especially after the previous episode- And it hurts because she’s always considered this as a possibility, but now she knows it’s real and it’s literally in Eda’s face what she’s losing and just lost… It’s hard to handle and accept sometimes, Eda really wished and hoped it wouldn’t be this way, deep down; So she’s rudely reminded that of course it’d be this way with the curse, she can never get what she wants so don’t pursue it, just be happy with what she has… Don’t bother reaching out to make friends with Luz or anyone else because you’ll always be lonely and you’ve always been happy like that, what more could you need? It makes Eda a bit cautious to try new things to an extent, like enrolling her kid at Hexside and reconnecting… And it’s this careful consideration of her comfort zone that clashes with Eda’s normally adventurous and exploring personality.

           When Eda realizes the curse is getting worse, it’s like the wound is freshly opened anew- And once more it’s like she’s that young kid again, when she first found out she had the curse… When she had to deal with its unexpected effects and lived in constant paranoia, never knowing what might come or happen next, if she’ll suddenly transform or if her magic will glitch out, and this is why she can’t be around people and has to be safe at home for herself and others. It’d no doubt bring back a lot of old pains and trauma, like Eda is reliving those days when she first suffered the curse… It’s so much more difficult to be certain of the life she chose for herself, because Eda can never be certain about the curse and just how bad it’ll get- And she’s afraid she won’t always be so confident about her decision to not give herself up to Belos just to cure it…

           Because maybe the curse WILL get worse to an unexpected point, that even Eda will have to change her mind and join the Emperor’s Coven just to be free of it- Because who knows what may happen? So again, Eda has to prepare for the worst-case scenario, that she’ll hurt others and probably die an early, magic-less death, or a fate worse than death… And because she has to accept this at such a young age, Eda is too accustomed to the idea of her life ending, because she’d rather die than join the Emperor’s Coven, and had to make sure she’d be ready to make that decision at any point in her life. Only then could Eda refuse to let the curse sway her into breaking her own beliefs, by treating its worst possibility as an inevitability- And it almost was, and definitely hastened, no thanks to Lilith…

           And it culminates in Eda losing magic- But also thanks to Lilith, she’s shared the curse. And there’s no doubt SO much relief because of this, because aside from the lost magic… Any progression of the curse Eda will go through, will be something she’s already retread- So she’ll be prepared this time, and with her support network… With Lilith also here to help, Eda will know what to do. And guiding Lilith on what to expect will help Eda feel reassured even more about what’s ahead of her… So with an entire crowd confirming Eda’s choices in life by providing their support, even when they saw the extent of the curse and what it’s done to her- I think Eda can truly begin to rest now, and be at ease…

          The curse is still an issue by technicality, but it’s no longer that unpredictable monster that a paranoid Eda would always have to account for- It’s either stopped getting worse, or she’s personally lived out and seen the worst… She finally knows what’s ahead of her down this path, so now she can accommodate and adjust her plans arrangements accordingly, enabling Eda to be at ease as the only surprise she has to look forward to, is how things between her and Luz and Lilith and the others with go- And the wonderful, joyous surprise of discovering new Glyphs and magic! Eda has conquered the unknown, and now it’s something she can look forward to as pleasant surprises regarding the new developments and happiness in her life.

          It doesn’t just have to be the consideration of things staying the same, or worse, and trying to find a middle ground between the two; Eda herself taught Luz to make her own destiny, so make your own options just as the two made their own options, either opting out of the Coven System or engaging in Multi-Track learning! Don’t accept what others have laid out for you, take life by the horns and steer it wherever you want- Staying the same, getting worse… Let’s add getting better as an option, and take the initiative to choose this choice and make fate stick to it and give what it owes you.

          You’ve made your decision and you’ll stick by it, so everyone else should learn to accommodate this choice of yours and who you are, this time! Eda learned to figure out her curse and live with it, she conquered it- And she’s not someone to pity, but a witch to admire and look up to, and Luz can confirm this for her! It’s Eda who’s enviable, even with the drawback of her curse- And Lilith can attest to how much better Eda’s life is, compared to having been non-cursed in the restrictive Emperor’s Coven! Eda really went out and didn’t just make her life better than it was, didn’t settle for as good as the typical one, or the one she was meant to have- She made her life one of the best ones out there! Eda got the life she deserved, even if it might not have been the one she expected, but; She’s always worked with what she gets as a trash collector and as an adaptable survivor.

[badsext]

🍭🌶 Could I request something sweet and spicy where Robert Sheehan tries to boost a shy, soft reader's (f) self-confidence? Thanks!

Masked Hearts: Robert Sheehan x Reader (fem)

Author’s note: Thank you for the request! I decided to to experiment with acknowledging the pandemic in this fic. Because the reader is shy, I thought it would be interesting to incorporate masks and social distancing. Not trying to be flippant about masks and social distancing (which is really important). It’s just fantasy. I hope you like it.

____________________________________________

The fridge is empty except for a few condiments. Of course, you already know this, but you are so hungry, you go through the motions anyway. Then you reach for the crackers in the pantry and shove one into your mouth. It’s stale, but you choke it down as punishment for running out of groceries during a pandemic.

You start weighing your options. A grocery run would require you to buy the food, bring it home, and cook it. By then your empty stomach would never forgive you. Delivery would also take too long. No, you needed to eat immediately...or as close to it as possible with minimal social interaction.

You take a quick shower, brush your teeth and throw on some of your more decent casual clothes: a plain black tee shirt and the only pair of jeans you don’t hate. Your reflection in the mirror looks tired and stressed. ‘Why do I even try?,’ you mutter to yourself as you rearrange your hair. ‘Well, here we go,’ you sigh, stretching the blue medical mask across your face. You can hide so much behind a mask, for someone as shy as you it is a blessing in disguise.

The restaurant is eerily quiet. With the restrictions eased, every other table is blocked off with an ‘x’ made of yellow tape and the same yellow tape has portioned off the floor every six feet. There is nobody in line so you step up to the tape closest to the cashier. You order the usual through the plexiglass in a voice you’d consider loud to compensate for the layers of materials between your mouth and her ear. “I’m sorry, can I have that again?” You raise your voice, but she still can’t hear you. The third time you are literally shouting and it is so painfully awkward you could die. ‘This place needs a fucking ordering ap!’ You scream inside your brain. She punches in some buttons and finally hands you an empty cup signaling the end of your torment.

You fill the cup with soda and sit down. There is a maskless man eating at a table directly across from you. He notices you and looks up from his food. You panic. ‘What is he looking at?’ Then in an instant you recognize him. ‘What the fuck is Robert Sheehan doing at this shitty restaurant right now?’ You try to calm yourself, avert your eyes. ‘He’s just a person,’ you reason. ‘He needs to eat too.’ You open a takeout menu and hold it up to hide your face in spite of the mask you are already wearing. Your eyes peer stealthily over the top. ‘He’s still looking at me. Why is he still looking at me?’ That’s when you realize that you are literally the only two customers in the restaurant.

He smiles. His green eyes sparkle like precious gems and the sunlight bounces off his messy bun of shiny brunette curls like gold. ‘Wow, okay he is even better looking in person.’ You hear a number being called and realize that it matches the one on your receipt. You suddenly recall where you are and the reason you are here. Still, you hesitate to get up and retrieve your order. If you stand up and walk up to the counter he will get a get a full view of your body, the cursed sack of meat that you are so helplessly trapped inside.

“Miss, your food is ready.”

‘Shit!’ Now you have to get the food or he’ll think something is wrong with you!

You walk up as inconspicuously as possible, like a vapor on a crest of wind. ‘Goddamnit, why didn’t I order this to go?!’ You curse your lack of foresight, grab the tray and return to the same seat across from Robert Sheehan, deciding it is less awkward than changing seats to avoid him. The savory sent of grilled chicken sandwich and seasoned fries permeate your mask to make your mouth water. But you can’t just chow down like an animal, Robert Sheehan is watching. You check again and it seems he has moved on, scrolling his phone instead.

You sneak a fry under your mask and hear the sound of muffled laughter. Mortified, your tear ducts start to sting. Robert’s smile drops as he sees the effect he has had on you. His eyebrows scrunch together in regret and his hands wave frantically as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, breaking the silence. “I didn’t mean to laugh, I just thought that was cute,” he explains, with his hand to his chest.

‘Cute?’ Your mind starts spinning. Still low on blood sugar, you instinctively reach for your drink, poking the straw under the mask to have a sip. Rob stifles another laugh and again shows his remorse. Then you watch as he appears to have a few stern words with himself.

“It’s okay,” you manage to eek out. Rob looks relieved. A smile forms under your mask and an idea pops into your head. You unwrap the plastic knife and fork on your tray and begin slicing your sandwich into bite sized pieces. You stab one, twirl it around on your fork and pop it under the mask. Rob giggles, flashing his teeth. Encouraged, you lean back in your chair and rub your tummy like Winnie the Pooh.

He picks up his sandwich and makes it “laugh” by flapping the bun up and down.

You cary on this way, eating and joking around at a distance until your plates are empty. This is definitely not like you, getting silly with a virtual stranger. It usually takes months before people get to see this side of you, but after breaking the ice, Rob’s attention feels good.

He puts his mask on and comes up to your table.

“Thanks for having lunch with me.” He says, pulling a small bottle of hand sanitizer out of the pocket of his low waisted pants. “Want some?”

“Yeah, thanks.” You say holding out your hands. He squirts some of the clear liquid into your hands, then into his own before putting it away. You have several bottles of this stuff in your purse, but none that have been warmed against the thigh of a bonafide celebrity.

“I’m Rob.”

You introduce yourself. You think of mentioning Misfits or Umbrella Academy, but you worry it might wreck the mood.

“You’ve got something on your...” He points to your mask.

“Oh, haha.” You laugh nervously, turning away to dig though your bag, pop a mint, then turn around wearing a clean identical mask.

“Brilliant quick change. I didn’t see a thing.” You offer him a mint. He takes it and slips it under his mask with a wink. “You want to get out of here?”

Your body tingles at the prospect. You nod, trying to conceal your dizzying flood of emotions. “Where should we go then?”

“Well, there’s really not much open. I was planning on heading back to my apartment.” You explain, trying not to sound too obvious while simultaneously hoping he takes the bait. All of this is, of course, way out of your comfort zone and there is a part of you cringing into oblivion.

“Well, it’s a nice day, why don’t I walk you home.” He souds persuasive, not insistent; optimistic, not cocky.

“That sounds nice.”

He holds out his sanitized hand and you take it. The contact of your skin against his activates a primal desire within. You take to the street, the warm California breeze gently follows. Your steps start to quicken as you approach the front door. You reach into your bag to find your keys. Rob’s arms encircle your waist from behind. You turn to him, holding your keys in one hand and sliding the other down the length of his body from his chest to the growing bulge in his pants. He inhales sharply. You turn back around to unlock the door. He grabs your ass with both hands.

Inside the apartment Rob rips off his mask then reaches out for yours. “Ah ah ah,” you scold, instinctually dodging out of the way. “We mustn’t violate CDC protocol.”

Rob begs. “Oh come on, just a peek?” You remove the mask, revealing a shy little smile. Rob comes near, brushing your hair away from your face and pressing his lips to yours so soft and deliberate.

Update: Smut filled 🌶 Part 2

@elliethesuperfruitlover @bubblyani @chipster-21 @vinawyatt @chokemerobert @bitch4bagels @bi-satanist @helena-way07 @punknatch @ettyskellington @deadlynyghtshayde @dandycandy75 @renegadesheehan @ringpopdust @neon-caskets @courtneytarynofficial @ur-honey-child @yeetskeetbuddy

[krsnbgirl]

Fly High! || Kageyama x Fem!Reader || Part 5.5

Summary: You head to Ukai’s store to have a conversation. He learns about some of your past and what your future goals were before coming to Karasuno. You both also come up with some new ideas that can help during practice. 

Pairing: Kageyama Tobio x Fem!Reader

Genre: Rom-Com, Slice of Life, Sports

Warnings: Ukai smokes a cigarette (?)

Chapter’s Word Count: ~1.4k

Author’s Note: Side chapter to learn a little bit more of your past as a volleyball player and some of your new responsibilites as their manager! It’s just a cute little small thing I decided to write to help with the context of the story. Hope you guys like it! <3 Part 6 should be up by the end of this week! 

Taglist: @misnmatchedsox​ @monviemoo​ @love-beyond-words​

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 5.5 || Part 6 || Masterlist

It was a cool morning when you waved goodbye to your mom and skateboarded towards Sakanoshita. The temperature was just right and with the weekend in full effect, the streets were bustling with families and friends enjoying their time off. You smiled to yourself as you turned the corner and cruised through different alleyways to cut the time from being on the main streets. It felt nice to finally have a clear mind and a set goal for yourself. For the longest time, it was as if the path in front of you was endless. Whenever you thought about volleyball, flashbacks of your last game constantly plagued your mind. But recently, thanks to all your new friends, your mind was filled with all the new memories you were able to make with the sport. Just like how Tanaka and Nishinoya would always fanboy over Shimizu and you would have to be the one to drag them away from her. Moments with your fellow first years: Hinata always coming into your classroom to hang out with you, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima grouping up with you during free periods to go over the class material, and Kageyama constantly asking you for critiques whenever you helped him practice with Hinata. Sugawara would always check in on you to make sure that you were keeping up with school and Daichi would check in to make sure that you were having your meals. Asahi would try his best to help you with carrying the water if Shimizu was busy with Takeda and Ukai, reassuring you that it wasn’t a hassle and that it was his way of hanging out with you during school hours. 

You smiled to yourself and leaned your head back, enjoying the warm sun rays that were beaming down on you. It was a blessing in disguise to be dragged into their world, no your world, once again. You had missed the feeling of the ball in your hands and feeding off of the hunger and determination that radiated off of the players in the gym. The new found warmth you felt whenever you were with them felt like a new beginning for you. And maybe that’s what you’ve been needing for the longest time: a clean slate from your past and a fresh mind to fall in love with the sport all over again. Stretching your arms, you hummed your favorite song and smiled widely when you saw the store’s front right in front of you. 

Skidding to a stop, you kicked your board into your arms before going into the store. You passed by the aisles to try and find Ukai, but he was nowhere to be found. With a shrug, you set your skateboard on top of one of the empty tables and decided to pick out some snacks. 

“Oi Coach! Where are you?” you asked as you skimmed the shelves of chips in front of you. 

“In the back! I’ll be right out, kid!” he yelled back. 

“Osu~” you replied back and grabbed your favorite bag of chips before heading towards the refrigerated section in the front. 

As you grabbed a cold bottle of Ramune, Ukai emerged from the back room and ruffled your hair. 

“Thanks for coming out kid, I know this isn’t your ideal way of spending your weekend, but I needed your help with the boys.” he said as he grabbed his notebook and pen from behind the counter. 

You smiled and waved it off. “It’s fine, coach. I’m glad I can help.” 

The two of you sat down at the table and you set your skateboard on the floor. You leaned against the back of the chair and crossed one leg over the other as he mirrors your actions with his arms cross against his chest. 

“(L/N) (F/N). Chidoriyama’s infamous female wing spiker and pinch server. Currently on hiatus due to a torn ACL.”

You chuckled and raised an eyebrow at the older man. “Yes, that is I.” 

“How did you get into volleyball?” 

“My dad; he used to play during his high school and university days. When I was younger, they wanted to figure out what kind of extracurricular activity to put me in. My mom put me in dance while my dad put me in volleyball. I didn’t like how stuck up the kids in my ballet class were, so I dropped it and just had more fun with volleyball.” 

“And how long have you been playing?” 

You grabbed your chips and opened the bag. Ukai shook his head when you offered him some and you shrugged before answering. 

“Hm...probably since I was like six or seven? My dad started off with just receiving and then when I got good at that, he taught me serving before putting me in weekend classes.” 

“That’s a long time kid, I’ve seen some of your plays recently and I can see you be a lot of help with the team. Well, that is until you’re ready to personally become a part of the girl’s team.” 

“The girl’s team?” you asked more to yourself then towards him as you munched on some of the chips. 

“C’mon, I’m assuming you’ve dreamt about making it big. It’s just a matter of time until your body is back in top shape.” 

“Coach, I barely told you last night that I agreed to be manager. Let’s take it one step at a time, alright?” you laughed and he sheepishly smiled back at you. 

“Yeah, you’re right, sorry I was getting ahead of myself.” Ukai laughed and then cleared his throat. “So what do you think of the boys so far?” 

“Hm…” you started as you tried to gather your thoughts and opened your bottle of Ramune. “I think they’re okay so far. Some of them still need to improve on their receives, Kags and Shoyo still need to improve on their quick combo, and overall the team dynamic needs to improve. We just need to nitpick and note down the smaller aspects of it for their next training camp.” 

“True, that’s what I began to notice as well. We can start off with different drills and solidify on the current struggles for now. Then after the camp we can get down to the finer details.” 

You nodded your head in agreement and said, “Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan for now.” 

He sighed in relief and relaxed in his chair. “Thank god you’re here, kid. It gets stressful sometimes being the only one coming up with plays.” 

You laughed as Ukai’s typical grumpy face relaxed and got up to toss your trash away. “No prob, coach. Glad I can use my expertise again.” 

“Ah, that reminds me, I need you to come up with different plays the boys can try out. I want to add more towards the second year since we’ve been focusing too much more with our starting lineup.” Ukai said as rested his arms behind his neck. 

“You got it coach.” you smiled at him and gave him the ‘okay’ sign. He watched as you picked up your board and motioned towards the door. 

“Well if that’s all you needed…” 

“Ah, wait!” he said while getting up from his seat and went towards the counter. He rummaged around for a paper bag and grabbed the tongs that was hanging off the handle of the heater for his family’s infamous buns. 

“Compensation for coming out today. Your snacks are also on the house.” he cheekily smiled. 

You gasped and smiled excitedly, jogging towards the counter and watched him fill up the bag. 

“What was your next goal if you weren’t injured?” he asked. 

You played with one of the wheels of your board and pursed your lips. “I...was supposed to go to Niyama High with my libero and captain.” 

“Niyama?! Why didn’t you follow through?” 

Silently, you motioned towards your knee as your expression deadpanned. 

“Oh, right.” 

You rolled your eyes and smirked. “C’mon coach, don’t tell me you’re getting old already and having short term memory.” 

He clicked his tongue and whacked you on the head with the rolled up newspaper by the cashier. You laughed and grabbed the bag he slid towards you. 

“You know I’m kidding, but anyways, it’s as cliché as it can be. I needed a fresh start and Yu-nii suggested I go to Karasuno. He’d show me the ropes and I’ll be on my merry way.” 

“Would you ever consider transferring back?” he asked as he lazily sat down on his chair behind the counter and took out a cigarette. 

You immediately shook your head as you made your way towards the door. He lit it up and blew some out, settling into his usual routine at the store. 

“Nah, the team is family now. So that means Karasuno is my home. But don’t tell the boys I told you that.” you smirked before saluting at the older man and exited the store. 

[notebook-13]

Shigaraki • Development

Backstory

(Note: Tenko was Shigaraki’s childhood name.)

First things first: Shigaraki’s backstory is probably meant as an allegory. The house his father built is a microcosm of society, his father Kotaro represents people with power, Tenko represents people without it, and the other family members are bystanders. The power imbalance and communal emphasis on harmony enables Kotaro to take out his baggage on Tenko while Tenko is required to repress his. Resistance, even if it’s minor, causes Tenko to be shunned and beggared, as Kotaro locks Tenko out of the house in the backyard, in the dark, unfed, without even a roof over his head.

Edit: @codenamesazanka​ has an excellent reading of this allegory!

Theirs is a household that prioritizes unity and a façade of happy domesticity over Tenko’s wellbeing. His mom and grandparents treat him gently, reject him kindly, and refuse to admit to him just how terribly Kotaro treats him. Though the three adults understand that Kotaro is the problem (they criticize him in private or cry out futile protests during an incident), they are unwilling to disrespect Kotaro to Tenko’s face. Doing so would mean facing their victim and owning up to their own culpability, too.

So, throughout Shigaraki’s backstory, Horikoshi intersperses black panels with increasing grains of white. This references Shigaraki’s “wound in his heart.”

The first black panel appears when Tenko is crying to his mom, Nao, about his dad; the second appears when he is similarly comforted by his grandparents.

After an episode with Kotaro, Nao hesitantly asks Tenko if he still wants to be a hero.

Nao: “Tenko…do you…still want to be a hero?” Tenko: “Yup. Because like, nobody wanted to play with Mikkun and Tomo. So I said, ‘Let’s play together!’ And we played heroes, and it was super fun. And then Mikkun said, ‘You should be All Might, Ten.’ And I was nice and played with them even though they don’t have any friends.”

It’s hard to follow Tenko’s five-year-old’s logic here, but the gist seems like Tenko wants to be a good person who makes people less lonely, and he thinks heroes do that. The implication, then, could be that Tenko is lonely, and his admiration for heroes compensates for what’s missing in his family (a hero).

What’s also significant is that Tenko noticed Mikkun and Tomo were suffering, and instead of ignoring it or playing along like everyone else, he did something about it. What he emphasizes isn’t, “we played heroes and fought bad guys, it was really cool”; he emphasizes that he was kind, that he helped kids who were lonely. This isn’t a kid who wants to be a hero because heroes are strong.

Also worth noting that in bnha, p much every kid wants to be a hero. By forbidding Tenko from even playing, Kotaro draws a line between Tenko and his classmates: Tenko is not one of them. He’s not allowed to dream he’ll be a hero like everyone else. In a society overflowing with heroes (and with adulation of heroes), Tenko can’t be one of them nor admire them.

^^ the first “wound” panel is the black middle one

When Nao tells Tenko that “it’s hard to be a hero,” especially right after hesitantly asking him if he still wanted to be one, Tenko understands that she’s discouraging him—similar to how Inko apologized to little Deku when he asked her if he could become a hero without a quirk.

When Nao tells Tenko it’s difficult, she’s essentially repeating what Kotaro says (“being a hero will cause him nothing but trouble”). By siding with Kotaro, she tells Tenko that he can’t become who he wants to be. He must conform to authority and let Kotaro determine his life. What he wants and feels don’t matter. Kotaro is right.

The wound begins to open.

Similarly, his grandparents offer him empty comfort because they, too, believe in presenting a unified front. The kids aren’t allowed to be aware that there’s conflict between the grown-ups: rules are rules, instructions from your seniors are absolute, social harmony (and by extension, social hierarchy) has to be maintained. Tenko himself is the troublesome one—he’s the one who needs to be comforted, who keeps breaking rules, who can’t pretend everything is okay the same way everyone else can.

The wound opens further.

The initial wound and its exacerbation are both brought on by his mom and grandparents, not by Kotaro directly. Why? Because it’s the permissiveness of the adults that socializes Tenko in how to react to Kotaro. Kotaro’s abuse is too much for a five-year-old to process, so he trusts the other grown-ups in his life to understand it and tell him how to feel about it/what to do about it.

What they tell Tenko, implicitly, is that his pain doesn’t matter enough to do anything about, and it’s his fault it exists. Underneath, he recognizes this and resents them for it. They might not actively participate in Kotaro’s abuse, but they actively support him by trying to wipe away the consequences without any accountability for the problems. They shift blame to other people (Kotaro, Tenko) without owning up to their own role in the proceedings, so that they can pretend life is good and think of themselves as good people who don’t make trouble.

Tenko has a related “wound” associated directly with Kotaro.

((When Kotaro approaches Tenko to begin smacking him…))

The “itch.”

Tenko is five years old, and kids that young aren’t known for their emotional intelligence. This is his little-kid way of trying to describe his negative emotions: agitation, anguish, panic, frustration, aggression, resentment, desperation, (thwarted) hope, and so on.

Tenko scratches himself frantically because he doesn’t know how else to react to the things he’s feeling, and he doesn’t know how else to react because nobody is trying to help him sort through them. He’s only been told to suppress them. Plus, in adulthood, Shigaraki scratches himself when he’s stressed about something, so it makes sense for this ~allergy~ to be the origin.

I dunno why Tenko fixates on his face—his eyes, specifically…maybe out of shame? maybe because his face and eyes are what express his uncomfortable feelings, and/or because his eyes are what he uses to fruitlessly beg for help? or maybe the eyes out of a desire for blindness, to not see what’s in front of him the way everybody else pretends not to see?

(The irony, ofc, is that Kotaro is accusing Tenko of wanting to hurt their family, when in fact Kotaro is the one hurting their family.

Judging by how Nao and her parents approach Kotaro after the fact and tell him that they will leave if he hits the children again, I don’t think it was common for Kotaro to smack Tenko like this.

Also, this is the first time Tenko is shown scratching his neck: when his thoughts are crying out, help me!)

Tenko isn’t begging mercy from Kotaro, which says leagues about their relationship. Instead, he’s begging for interference from the rest of the family, for someone to stand up for him, to challenge the public humiliation Tenko regularly endures as Kotaro’s scapegoat. Nobody does, of course, like always.

It takes a few hours, locked out of the house, for the trauma to set in.

The wound gets worse…but this time it’s different.

For one, it’s accompanied by dialogue, not narration, and “everyone” is centered right in the core of his rage. The second (iffier) difference is that this time the wound and the itch coincide. In the previous situations, he’s either scratching himself or the wound is deepening. This is the first time Horikoshi depicts the two occurring simultaneously, and it’s this moment that his quirk fully awakens.

Tenko kills his dog and begins to have a panic attack. His emotions are choking him; the only way he can ask for help is to reach out to his sister, finally, in the way he didn’t dare to reach out while Kotaro was smacking him.

I’ve seen people suggest his voice fails as a side-effect of his quirk, but I think it’s trauma-related, not physical. For one, he still describes it as an “itch,” and for two, once he processes his trauma and decides that killing his family wasn’t a tragedy, Shigaraki’s characteristic squiggly speech bubbles are replaced by average speech bubbles.

This is consistent, so, his vocal problem was solved emotionally. So maybe his quirk was reacting to his emotions and placing pressure on his vocal chords? But idk, seems to me it was a psychosomatic problem.

Either way, he kills his sister as she runs away, and her scream attracts his mom and grandparents.

Then comes the fourth panel.

(For context, the narration refers to how his negative feelings towards his mom and grandparents accumulated.)

The whiteness is gushing forth, and it surges when Tenko sees his mom staring at him with terror, unable to summon a reassuring smile or any words of comfort for him.

The noises catch Kotaro’s attention. He pokes his head into the hall and walks through the empty house until he spots the open door to the backyard.

(Tenko has now transitioned to mainly scratching his neck instead of his face.)

Tenko reaches out to someone for the final time, and his (deadly) hand is rejected—smashed away, really.

Kotaro’s life is in danger, he’s shocked by the deaths of his family, he panics, and he reacts cruelly.

The tipping point is what happens afterwards.

Kotaro is surprised and horrified by what he’s done. But, like always, he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge to Tenko his wrongdoing. Instead, he reacts by doubling down and asserting his authority.

“Mommy, why does Father say no all the time? Does he hate me?!”

I’m not sure quite what Kotaro is doing here. At first I thought he was smacking Tenko, the way he did earlier that day, but that blob in the lower right panel is part of the background, not his hand in motion. So instead, it looks like Kotaro is holding out his hand in a “stop, stand back, stay away from me” gesture, or maybe to literally push Tenko away. (Have to wait on the anime, I guess.)

Regardless, Kotaro tells Tenko “no” for the last time. The immediate blame, the dearth of kindness or sympathy, the reaching out to him—someone’s trying to save him!—only to deny him…it evokes their history. Tenko is already in the midst of a meltdown, and now he snaps.

I hate bringing up real-world examples when thinking about stuff like bnha, so I hope this will be the only time I ever do it, but I’m powerfully reminded of a gun violence incident in Mississippi where a nine-year-old kid and his thirteen-year-old sister got into an argument over a video game controller, and the boy retrieved their parents’ gun from another room and shot her.

It’s ludicrous to think he had any meaningful concept of what he was doing, and, regardless of how Shigaraki interprets his past, the same holds for Tenko. Just because Tenko had a good “reason” to want Kotaro dead doesn’t imply he had a meaningful grasp of what he was doing. He killed Kotaro because he was a kid with access to a deadly weapon, and there’s a reason kids aren’t trusted with those.

But it is meaningful that Shigaraki struggles to make the distinction between aggression and murderous intent. AfO deliberately trains Shigaraki to adopt this warped mindset by telling him that his bad feelings, his “itch,” are equivalent to bloodlust. Realistically, there’re plenty of ways to relieve negative emotion, but Shigaraki has been taught exactly one outlet: destruction. So, he doesn’t realize that his murderousness is a product of nurture, not nature. (Also, lol, “murderousness” is a real word!)

Anyways, for the first time, Tenko experiences catharsis for the negative emotions that have built up his whole life. A fluke of fate enabled him to subvert the established power dynamic, and the destruction of the house encapsulates the collapse of their family’s hierarchy. He still doesn’t understand what he’s done.

By the next morning, it’s begun to sink in. He ran away from the house and then wanders the streets, too consumed by guilt to speak, and he’s ignored by everyone. When someone finally pays attention and seems willing to help him…

He smiles, happy that someone is finally going to help him. But his dirty, creepy smile scares the old lady off.

(reminds me of his early design.)

To him, it’s like people can see what he’s done, and that’s why nobody will help him or even acknowledge him. Notice the lower left corner: the blackness and white grains, spilling over from his wound.

The itch returns, and the scratching and the wound overlap again. It’s hard to say whether the wound is reacting to the old lady in general, or if it’s tied to the narration line “being punished.”

It occurs when Tenko simultaneously wants to be saved but also thinks he doesn’t deserve it, that everyone can see how bad he is and knows he doesn’t deserve help.

What did Shigaraki learn from this?

Social harmony is forged by repressing conflict, not by resolving it. This happens at his expense, purposefully.

“This is the house my father built.” Creation, construction, building, making walls, making rules, making—these are bad, and they’re performed by the people with authority and power. These things happen for other people, not for his sake.

He’s not important enough to be helped / not worthy of it, and he resents that.

Origin of his self-loathing.

Other notes:

The “itch” is something he can find temporary catharsis for (through violence), and Shigaraki thinks the itch might have gone away if someone had just helped him. The “wound” is not something that ever alleviates or that he suggests could have gone away.

The wound’s origin is from the complicity of his family to Kotaro, not from Kotaro himself.

It’s interesting that his dream to destroy society is a reenactment of his destruction of his family/house, even though killing “everyone” the first time devastated him.

He switched from mostly scratching his face to mostly scratching his throat.

Both these are sites where emotion is expressed.

Hands are another site of expression, and he later develops his fascination with his family’s hands and uses his own hands for destruction.

Activating decay seems to have hugely worsened the scarring around his eyes. He says that he thought the “itch” had gone away, so it’s unlikely he was scratching himself overnight…so I think his quirk had the side-effect of exacerbating his scars? If decay made the skin around his eyes hurt, that could relate to why he switched to mostly scratching his throat.

Even as a kid, Tenko had a certain amount of pride/dignity, enough to blame others for mistreating him instead of blaming purely himself.

Tenko admired heroes partly because his family lacked one, but when he discovers Nana…? Now someone inside the family (inside the house) was a hero, so the rules were different than what he thought?

Upbringing by AfO

When Tenko killed “everyone,” that included himself. All that’s left of him afterwards is an empty shell. He doesn’t even seem to remember what he’s done.

But AfO is willing to extend a hand and touch Tenko.

He’s willing to acknowledge Tenko’s pain, something nobody else was or is, at the moment in his life when Tenko feels he least deserves sympathy.

Now, obviously it’s hella suspicious that AfO already knows Tenko’s name, knows what he’s done, and procures his family’s hands, but Shigaraki doesn’t seem to question it. Tenko’s arms dangle there, limp, as AfO embraces him and tears stream down his face. And, ofc, AfO echoes All Might’s motto.

AfO takes Tenko in and tells him he’ll be his master from now on. Then…

Tenko viscerally remembers what he’s done, and his immediate reaction is to scratch himself, puke, and then seize the severed hands, gathering them up and cradling them close to him. It’s probably then that Tenko discovers the feeling that Shigaraki describes—of feeling violently ill but somehow at peace, too. (“When a person’s life starts spiraling, what’s the one thing they want? Comfort.”) There’s way too much to unpack here, so, moving on.

The “purpose” that AfO alludes to is the destruction of society/the status quo.

While Tenko is huddled on the ground, cradling the hands, AfO continues.

AfO’s the first person willing to talk to him about his itch as emotional instead of as an allergy. He tells Tenko point-blank that he cannot control his impulses and that his release must take the form of destruction.

This moment baffles me. AfO openly admits that Tenko’s feelings will fade…if left be. As far as we see, he doesn’t explain to Tenko why it’s important that those feelings never fade, why emptying himself of his pain is a bad thing. But even after being told time would heal him, Tenko keeps the hands close to him—and I don’t think he was just doing what AfO wanted.

This panel is also interesting because it definitely makes it look like Tenko’s wound is glowing, like it’s a light in the dark. Also, AfO’s dialogue nearly obscures the early panel of the wound…hm.

Regardless, AfO implies that those feelings are the most important thing Tenko has, and he should keep them close. It’s not specified if AfO told him to wear his family.

Later, Tenko’s wandering on the streets (his hands aren’t with him) when he encounters a duo of thugs, who beat and mock him. At first, Tenko lurches to fight back, but…

I think these are more “wound” panels: the blackness with white grains. He backs down, even though his rage doesn’t dissipate.

When he returns home, AfO encourages him to embrace his feelings instead of holding them back. Tenko literally writhes on the floor from the force of his “itch,” going all out as he wallows in his overwhelming feelings.

AfO tells Tenko that ethics were invented in order to suppress people and that Tenko’s emotions are more important than anything else. Tenko responds by reiterating what AfO told him: he wants to destroy those thugs, and he can’t control this urge to destroy. He goes as far as to disintegrate one of Kotaro’s hands, even though not too long ago he clung onto it.

But, later, he wears his family’s hands for the first time.

Wearing them clearly affects Tenko adversely—he’s struggling to breathe properly, and he’s entirely slumped over. But these hands, and these feelings, are the only things he has left, the only things he knows, and he won’t leave them behind.

He encounters the same duo of thugs and kills them.

His wound again. Formless, but with a sense of shifting and movement. Undiminished, even if the itch is alleviated. Or, maybe this panel is supposed to indicate a deterioration, like the wound gets even worse after the murders?

Observing the event, Ujiko remarks that he’d thought Tenko had lost his memories. I think he’s commenting on how Tenko is wearing the hands despite not remembering who they’re from? 

AfO comments…

Tenko restrains quirk subconsciously, limiting its disintegration to just what he’s directly touching, which makes it seem like he’s afraid of his quirk and feels guilt/self-loathing for it. He’s aware that his quirk is connected to the things he feels, maybe even blames his quirk in some way for making him feel this way.

It’s ironic that Tenko feels free while he’s being throttled and restrained by the hands of his relatives.

lol AfO gives away the game a bit, here. He tells Tenko to do whatever he wants and not hold back, and then praises Tenko for “holding back” his tears. He just wants Tenko to have no way to vent his feelings except violence. Also, the fact that Tenko is “holding back” his quirk…hmm.

Again, too much here to unpack rn, so, moving on.

AfO gives Tenko the hands of the thugs he killed, plus one hand of unknown origin to replace the hand of Kotaro’s that Tenko destroyed. Shigaraki describes the gift as soothing to his battered body, and he felt reborn. AfO gives him the name Shigaraki Tomura ad implicitly positions himself as Shigaraki’s dad by telling Shigaraki that “Shigaraki” is his surname.

What did Shigaraki learn from this?

Morals are illusionary, merely a tool used to suppress people without power in order to make things easier for people who do have power.

His “itch” means bloodlust, and he can’t control it.

He should just do what he wants (except crying, apparently), or else he’ll just suffer indefinitely.

Rejection of a society he had no hand in making and no place to belong in.

Other notes:

Even without remembering his aggression towards Kotaro, it’s Kotaro’s hand he shows the biggest fixation on.

Shigaraki has three “ailments”: the itch (the agitation he feels from bad things), the wound (the “rage” and “frustration” he feels from bystander apathy), and the nausea he feels when he wears the hands (self-loathing?).

Or maybe the nausea is part of the wound?

More on the wound?

I wonder when Horikoshi decided on how to visualize Shigaraki’s pain, and if he uses it as a pattern in bnha.

I’ve noticed a few panels that remind me of Shigaraki’s wound, especially that amorphous panel after he kills those thugs, but it’s hard to tell if the backgrounds are just atmospheric or if there is actually an attempt to connect these moments thematically.

Here are a few that I noticed.

I’m going to keep an eye out ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Edit: here’s another one. This is the most definite example so far: it occurs in ch250, post-Shigaraki’s flashbacks, and the distinct circle doesn’t produce an atmosphere the way the previous ^^ panels do. 

^^ it’s worth mentioning that this appears during Fuyumi’s narration, detailing how Natsuo is the only one in the family who can’t move forward, ie, he’s experiencing social pressure to conform and validate Endeavor similar to how Tenko felt pressure to conform to Kotaro’s authority.

And then this next one, I’m pretty unsure about, but I’ll include it in case:

[anika-ann]

A Matter of Trust

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 5470 (oops)

Summary: You and Steve get to go to a mission together after a while; free drinks, partying, dressing-up nicely, stealing blueprints, the usual. You might even enjoy this as a couple.

Or… not really. Of course something would go awry. What else did you expect when wearing these killer heels anyway?

A/N: Written for or @wkemeup​’s 4k writing challenge; congratulations! Well-deserved, no arguing here; shall the number continue to grow ;) Thank you for letting me participate!

Prompt: “Get in the closet, now!” (bold in the text)

Warnings: suggestive language, mentions of a kink, objectification, gun violence (brief), swearing (always), attempt at humour, fluff…?

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In your whole history as an operative of S.H.I.E.L.D. slash Avenger, time had never dragged so slowly as it did at this party.

Not even Steve’s presence cheered you up, mostly because he was busying himself with being everyone’s company but yours despite you two coming here together. For a mission. To work, you reminded yourself.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been there for the plan-making which had resulted in mutual agreement of Steve falling into the role of an honourable man whose infamous good nature prevented him from saying no to anyone who asked for a moment with him even if it meant leaving you alone. Which you supposedly mind, because you were here with him only to sneak in here and possibly get your five minutes of glory if he stood by your side long enough

And that was only an act for people who would have noticed you had arrived together.

For the others, you simply attended the party – a known cover-up for a place of business in arms-deal among the powerful men of the underground world – to have fun and seduce some rich businessman.

Sipping from the very same glass of champagne you had helped yourself with about an hour ago, you scanned the room in the search for the big boss. No, not Steve, but the man of the hour, the one whose blueprints you were meant to steal. The blueprints of a potentially large bomb that could kill tens of thousands if it went kaboom and released the nanoparticles of a dangerous virus to the air.

Lovely. Someone clearly had too much time on their hands coming up with crap like that only to make your life miserable.

“What’s a gorgeous lady like yourself doing at this party alone?” a velvety voice interrupted your dark musing and you vainly tried to cover the shudder running down your spine, cursing at the heat curling in your stomach.

Was this how he was talking to all the women who were throwing themselves at him tonight? Probably.

Had you been through that before? Yes.

Had you expected it to happen tonight? Sadly, yeah.

Was it bothering you? Hell the fuck yeah, even if you knew it shouldn’t and that it didn’t mean anything but Steve doing his job right.

You cursed mentally at your weakness and sighed out loud, spinning around to face the man.

“Waiting for a bulky blond supersoldier to come save her, naturally,” you hissed back, hating yourself for letting your jealously get the better of you.

Steve had never ever made you as much as doubt that you were the one for him, but that green bitch of an emotion still intruded on you tonight. You blamed the upcoming visit from aunt flow and the rush of hormones arriving with it and the fact you were itching to leave and go home just for getting rid of those ridiculously high heels alone.

You usually enjoyed wearing high heels, they gave you confidence as gazes of many men and women followed you, but the stilettos you had got chosen tonight could be used as murder weapon.

Ha, maybe you could try and sell them here, you’d make a fortune!

A frown appeared on Steve’s face, one of curiosity, regret and surprise when he registered your irritated tone.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded quietly, whispering to your ear intimately, only making the situation worse.

“You shouldn’t be talking to me, Captain Rogers. You’ll blow it.”

His eyebrow jumped ridiculously high and you realized what you said; you groaned both at his cheekiness and your stupidity.

“Blow our cover. Get your mind out of the gutter…” you muttered, putting some distance between the two of you for the sake of the cover.

“Maybe I’m feeling a bit reckless tonight,” he hummed back, his large palm resting on your lower back and you had to take a moment to swallow the blissful groan at his gesture. You loved his hands and the heels were not only killing your feet, but also you back, and the warmth radiating from his skin felt like heaven. “But seriously, are you okay?”

“You could have asked through the comm.”

“I wanted to check up on you personally.  So?” he insisted and you couldn’t but sigh again, finishing your glass of champagne when you spotted Wagner, aka your target. You stepped away from Steve.

“Just tired. Want this to be over with. Go mingle, Steven.”

Pausing when you took a note of the harshness in your tone, you found his concerned gaze over your shoulder, whispering as softly as you could: “Thank you for your concern… Captain.”

You caught a glimpse of his discreet lopsided smile before turning away fully.

As you walked into the crowd, your long crimson dress curled around your feet with every step due to the provocative – read practical – slit ending mid-thigh. You hoped that the memory of watching you go would occupy his brain for some time while he talked to the flocks of both male and female admirers.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ 

Two hours. It took you another two hours to ensure you’d be safe sneaking into the Wagner’s office slash bedroom.

Of course his bureau would be his bedroom; men like him knew nothing about good old sleep hygiene, because the thought of their money distracted them from the evil they were doing to the world and had them sleeping like babies.

Using the key-card you had snatched about three minutes ago, you easily entered the over-decorated room.

Looks like someone’s compensating for something, you noted mentally, not losing any time and activating the no-prints mode on your gloves; one of the perks of working with Tony Stark. You were wearing the nanotech the whole evening and no one had a clue, because the particles were imitating your skin. You’d leave a print on the glass of champagne if you wanted; if you planned on rummaging someone else’s office, leaving a trace was a different case and you wouldn’t take any risks.

Systematically starting on the right from the door and working your way through everything that looked even remotely like a possible hideout, you didn’t forget to gingerly place your palm over the wall-length closet so Friday could run scans.

God, you loved that Tony Stark was on the side of the angels despite not quite being one himself; according to him at least.

“No signs of anything else than overpriced shirts, tuxedos and sets for dom-sub play,” the AI announced, barely audible, and you cringed. Not what you needed to know. “Cuffs are men’s size. Dominatrix set for a wom-“

“Enough, enough! Gee, Friday…” you muttered under your breath, not liking the visual of Wagner in the middle of enjoying-

Gross.

“No need for that much detail…”

Shaking your head, you moved onto the desk; an obvious, perhaps too obvious choice, which was why you wouldn’t place your bet on it. But hey, you could never be sure enough until you checked.

The sudden noise on your right had you drawing your gun at instant, your pulse skyrocketing.

The first thing you saw was a large frame of the newcomer and neatly combed blond hair. Your shoulders slumped.

Steve raised his hands as he moved from the doorway to stand inside, his face visibly relaxing at the sight of you searching another man’s desk.

The door clicked shut behind him and you forced yourself to breathe in, shoving your gun back to the holster placed on your covered thigh.

“Jesus, Steve!” you whisper-yelled exasperatedly and resumed your inspection, paying him no mind anymore. You had more important things to do at the moment; not that you wouldn’t do him; Steve in a tux was sight to behold, like hold onto THAT, literally get your hands on it, but you were here for a job.

“You weren’t responding!” Steve replied in the same manner, causing you to freeze.

He had been trying to contact you? And you couldn’t hear him? But-

“Oh,” you let out intelligently, doing the math easily. “He must have some sort of a jammer in here, makes sense.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I’m fine,” you stated, shutting one drawer, opening another. “How did you even ge– never mind. You should go-“

“Don’t wanna cloooose my eyeees!”

The distant howl-like shout from the hall turned your blood into ice, your eyes widening.

You had studied Wagner the whole evening; you’d recognize his voice anywhere, even when he was singing ‘I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing’ out of tune.

“-before THAT happens! Shit!”

As you pulled out your phone, the live-feed from the camera in the hall offered you a marvellous view.

Two gorilla-men were dragging Wagner towards his room as his feet barely kept him standing. Gorilla number three was walking behind them just in case that their boss’ face decided to meet the floor despite the support offered to him.

Shit, shit, SHIT-

Closing the drawer you were currently scouring, lips pressed into a tight line, you eyed Steve; he was already bracing himself for the fight, caught in the middle of the process of discarding the jacket to have wider range of movements.

You whined internally – firstly, what a sight, it would always make you weak in knees no matter what. Secondly, if this was to end in a fight, the chances were that you’d make it out without the plans and you had spent the night in those killer heels for nothing.

Oh no, you don’t-

“Cause I’d miss ya’ BABY—I don’t wanna miss a THIIIIING!”

Scanning the room once more, your mind running hundred miles a minute, your gaze fell on the huge-ass closet of which contents you had learned more than you’d like to.

Your lips parted in surprise at the plan forming in your own head.

This is a terrible idea.

It’s yours!

Exactly.

Yeah, okay, fair enough-

NO TIME TO COME UP WITH A BETTER ONE-

Steve was kind enough to follow when you grabbed his arm and pulled him from his spot in the middle of the room, though he did shoot you an utterly confused look.

You met his eyes and gulped when the singing approached the room way too quickly to your liking.

“STILL MISS YA’ BABY–“

“I need you to trust me now,” you pleaded in hushed tone, seeing Steve’s pupils go wide, covering the somewhat always warm blue of his irises.

“With what?”

Well, he asked for it.

“Get in the closet, now!”

A second of shocked silence followed your request before his brain made the connection and a scowl twisted his handsome face.

“What? No! I’m not leaving you alone to face them!” he raised his voice minutely and you covered his mouth to remind him that there were ears present, inching closer with each second passing.

“DON’T WANNA FAAAAALL ASLEEEEEEP-!”

“That’s exactly what you’ll do! That’s easier to play off.”

Steve very much not agreed if his eyes flashing with anger were anything to go by. His hand pushed yours away as he towered over you.

“I’m not leaving-“

“Look at the gorillas, Steve!” you shoved the phone to his face, unlocking the closet and throwing its door open. “One word from them to the rest of security and we’re screwed. Get in!”  

Something between a whine, a groan and a growl – neither of those sounds sexy given the circumstances – escaped his lips and you assumed he had to admit to himself that you were right.

Taking a mental note of his resistance diminishing, you easily pushed him towards the limited dark space.

“CAUSE EEEEEVEN WHEN I DREAM OF YOOOOOOOU- THE SWEETEST DREAM WILL NEEEVER DOOOOOO-“

“We can still play it off toge-“ he tried to protest one more time but you pushed against his chest adamantly.

“And say what? This isn’t what it looks like? We just happened to choose your office to get freaky? I’ll handle it. Trust me.”

Steve gave you his unfairly disarming pleading look, his puppy eyesTM, but backed into the closet without another word, clutching his previously stripped jacket to his chest, because he did trust you.

Fingers on the handle, you hesitated when you realized what could ruin the charade you came up with and planned on pulling off.

Swallowing hard at the terrible idea, you gave Steve a tiny encouraging smile as you drew your gun and three knives from your leg holster/sheath and pressed it to his hands.

“Hold these for me.”

Swiftly closing the door, the last thing you saw was the horror on his face.

As the door swung open and you spun on your heels, he had no chance to react.

The loud song which had been reaching your ears for seemingly endless time died on Wagner’s lips and the third extra gorilla of a man behind him instantly pulled out his gun.

And aimed it right at your face. While you had nothing to defend yourself but your bare hands.

Yay.

“Who are you?!” he thundered and like a charm, Wagner stood straight so the other two guards could have you at gunpoint as well.

Yet, what sent an unpleasant shiver through you was Wagner’s sleazy eyes travelling from your killer heels to your ankles, up to your partly exposed thigh, your waist and finally settling on your cleavage, not bothering to make it higher to look into your eyes.

So. He’s a pig. Shocker.

For once, you were grateful. Not that he was supposed to know that.

A sweet innocent smile spread on your lips as you eyed the weapons with what seemed to be almost a satisfaction, you hoped.

“A government agent, of course,” you said, voice pitched just a bit higher than usual. You felt a bit sorry for Steve at the moment; you were well-aware of nearly giving him a heart attack by saying that. “I work with Captain America.” Scratch the ‘nearly’. Poor Steve’s heart. “I was given the task to scour this place… very… thoroughly.”

Your tone husky now, your teeth bit down on your lower lip, your eyes watching Wagner with faked interest. He hypnotized your red lips before shaking his head as if snapping from a haze.

“They told me you’ve been a bad, bad man. I kept my eye on you all evening,” you admitted, not even having to lie.

The following smile you sent his direction was perhaps too predatory, but that could work. For him anyway.

“Who do you work for?!”

The guards were not as easily fooled as their drunk boss apparently; then again, you hadn’t expected them to.  

“Oh. A.R.M.O.R. America-Related Manpower Operatives and Reinforcements.” God bless their hearts if they were going to buy that, seeing you were obviously trying to imitate the SHIEILD acronym. Very poorly. Playing it up, you let a giggle escape you before your expression turned serious, guilty even. “Oh. Probably shouldn’t have said that. It’s only my first time, you see. I finished my training few days ago.”

“Mm… look at ‘dat…” Wagner drawled and nope, it had nothing on the way Steve spoke when his accent peeked through while he was drunk on Asgardian liquor or lust alone.

Not relevant.

Wagner waved off his guard dogs, gesturing to one of them to approach you. “Why don’t we search you first?”

“Make it quick. I have…” you let your eyes trail over Wagner’s body, licking your lips when visibly lingering on his crotch, “more important tasks at hand. I came here for a mission. I’d like it to… finish.”

Two men instantly went to inspect you, patting you from the back, from the front, up and down, way longer and more thoroughly than necessary.

And they found what they were looking for.

One large palm harshly slipped between your thighs and you closed your eyes, willing yourself not to throw up at the pawing.

Gorilla One’s head snapping up to you, he pulled out the only weapon left on you, handing it to his boss and Gorilla Two grabbed your wrists and locked it behind your back, causing you to nearly hiss in pain.

“Oops,” you shrugged instead, burning gaze locked onto the man who was holding both your weapon and your life in his hands.

Your heart was beating frantically in anticipation, your confidence wavering as Wagner inspected the knife.

A slow smile spread on his face, his left eyebrow rising and then he finally, finally burst out laughing.

A confused ‘what’ sounded from behind you as the man’s utterly smashed boss howled in hysterical laughter.

“This—this is GOL-DEN!” he choked out, tossing the item to the very man who had handed it to him.

“It’s a stage-prop,” Gorilla One sighed.

And that it was. Thank you, Natasha Romanoff.

“Oh. So it’s fake.”

“Told you I have more important things at hand… so if—my hands could find some release please…” you asked sweetly over your shoulder. The very next second, you remembered just what was in the closet; and you weren’t thinking Steve. So you switched tactics. “That’s an order, actually. Let. Me. Go.”

“What the agent said, Greg,” Wagner beckoned, still chuckling, a new twinkle appearing in his eye, his face free of mistrust. Gorilla Two, Greg apparently, released your hands with reluctance. You didn’t bother thanking him. “And let her work. Off you go.”

When the gorillas wavered for few moments, you felt your impatience grow along with the pain shooting up your calves. Damn heels.

“Have you not heard your superior? Do I need to teach you some discipline?”

Wagner licked his lips, taking two wobbly steps towards you. It seemed to seal the deal for the guards, because they left the room.

“Someone went out of their way to get you… Must be my birthday then,” he grinned sleazily, his fingers twitching as if he craved to touch you, his hands stopping few inches from your hip. “I’m all  yours, agent. Why don’t you go on with the… thorough inspection?”

Straightening your posture, chin stuck up, you nodded curtly.

“Of course. Sir, I’ll have to ask you to raise your hands to your head. Don’t move otherwise. I’m gonna feel for weapons now.”

“Yes, madam,” he responded breathlessly, but the second you started the process, his hand landed on your hip.

You stopped in your search, locking serious gaze with him. His pupils were blown, eyes dark with lust. His fingers squeezed, his gaze flickering to your mouth as you stood nearly chest to chest.

“Sir, this is highly inappropriate. I’m gonna have to ask you-“

His palm slid to your bottom, fingers digging into the flesh.

You narrowed your eyes, not even having to pretend you didn’t like that. You slapped his hand away, earning a sly grin. He didn’t try again immediately, which you were endlessly grateful for. Instead, he obediently raised his arms so he looked ready to be either searched or crucified.

Oh, you’d gladly.

“Sorry, Agent, I couldn’t help myself. What is such… pretty face like yourself doing in business like this?” he questioned in a husky voice and at that moment, you knew that your time spent around Tony Stark had taken its toll on you, because you simply couldn’t resist that pass.

“Stealing intel from pricks like you,” you mumbled under your breath, giving him just enough time to realize something was wrong.

A fraction of second later, the edge of your hand hit his throat, bruising his larynx and causing him to release a shocked huff of air. Kicking his knee next, your elbow met his face. A choked groan escaped his lips and you prayed to god he didn’t truly find his voice to call the guards.

You elbowed him in his right temple for a good measure, incapacitating his other knee so he nearly sunk to the floor. You slipped around him in one swift movement; your arm sneaked around his throat and cut out his airways.

Too stunned, he barely fought you and you felt all tension leave his muscles in no time.

Wagner’s body hit the ground as he slipped through your hands despite your best efforts. You winced at the thud shaking the floor; you quickly giggled loudly, playing it off as a drunken fun-time shenanigans. Just in case the guards were still at the door.

Satisfied and relieved when no one burst in with guns blazing, you walked to the closet, losing those damned stilettos on the way.

As soon as you unlocked the closet, Steve nearly hit you with the door when abruptly leaving the limited space. His eyes scanned you head to toe to find any sign of an injury, the flames in his glare fading only a bit when he found none.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!” he whisper-yelled and despite the circumstances, you couldn’t but giggle, this time from honest amusement as he proved your earlier thoughts right.

There we go…

“Worked, didn’t it? Now help me since you’re here, he’s fucking heavy…”

Steve gave you an incredulous look, one promising a storm coming once you had the time for it, but he went to pick Wagner’s body up without protest.

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Steve was kind enough to have you use the bathroom first, so by the time he emerged – around half past three a.m. – you were already tucked in bed, waiting for him. His feet shuffled against the floor and he seemed utterly spent, as if he had been fighting an army from space.

You had both left the party unharmed; then again, you could imagine that socializing the way he had had to could be as tiring as an alien invasion itself. Also, he had been the one leave Wagner office-bedroom through the window, while you simply walked out of the room, winking at the guards who had indeed stayed by the door.

Steve slipped under the covers and turned off the bedside lamp, the warm light replaced by inviting darkness. Your eyelids felt heavy after the long night and you couldn’t wait to enter the blissful land of sleep.

Having Steve’s arms around you, a pleasant habit of his, you knew you’d be out in no time, but you made the effort to shift further into his embrace, sighing in content and murmuring ‘goodnight’.  

Already halfway out as soon as you closed your eyes, you still registered his arm winding tighter around your waist, his nose pressed to your nape. A deep inhale, then another, warm breath and his lips inching closer with each second.

Pulled out of your slumber, limbs already heavy and yet floaty, half-hearted question left your lips.

“You ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, his foot wedging between yours to pull you impossibly closer, his exhale long and wavering.

The tremble in it alarmed you, urging you to check up on his expression, on him. Willing your body to move, your heart skipped a startled beat when he wouldn’t let you turn around.

“That didn’t sound-“

His fingers wormed its way under your side laid on the mattress, flexing on the flesh of your waist.

“I’m fine….” Bullshit. “It’s just… you have no idea how hard it was to stay put while listening to all that, do you?”

Eyelashes fluttering in surprise, you took in his words, the subtle taste of fear in them, concern for how your abrupt plan could have easily go awry.

You allowed yourself a few moments before responding, forcing your memories, the images of you helplessly lying pinned to the ground after you saw a building explode – a building with Steve still in it – out of your mind.

“I… I think I can imagine. I’m sorry. I came up with an idea and thought it was for the best,” you whispered.

Honestly, you were still convinced that it had been the best thing to do given the circumstances, but that was momentarily beside the point.

“You literally told him you worked with me. I swear to God- I–“

Hearing the shift in his voice, a different emotion interfering – the pure horror, laced with exasperation – you softened your next words even further, running your fingertips over the back of his hand coaxingly.

Without any real hope, you attempted to turn in his firm embrace; this time, he reluctantly let you, your palms instantly trapping his miserable face.

“Hey. Hey, Steve, it’s fine. We handled it. We’re good. I just remembered Friday told me that he was a kinky bastard-“ Steve nudged you at the word and you fought hard the eye-roll he had coming at that “-and decided to use it.”

“You gave me your weapons and went against him empty-handed– never ever do that again,” he demanded, voice equally pleading and firm. You couldn’t help but nudge him back, because in your line of work, promising that technically equalled lying. “If there is any other option.”

You sighed, understanding all too well how he was feeling, willing to promise the latter to ease his mind. And to erase the worried wrinkles on his forehead. You kissed him there, the tension resolving under your loving gesture.

“Noted. I didn’t do that to get off, to have a high.“ Unlike some people, who seemed to do that sometimes. "I promise.”

“I know you didn’t,” Steve said, having the decency to add an edge of guilt to his voice, your verbal call for hypocrisy not going unnoticed. He kissed your left collarbone, tender and greedy, his lips sliding an inch lower to faintly feel your heartbeat and lingering.

“You know me well,“ you stated, running your fingers through his still damp locks, musing. "It’s… nice. Not as scary as I expected once.”

“Thanks…?” he murmured against your skin unsurely and you chuckled, a tired but oh so content sound.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, heavy-lidded eyes boring into yours, finding your lips with his to deliver a lazy but heartfelt kiss, one you felt reaching your very soul.

Shifting so your head was tucked under his chin, you nestled into the most comfortable position possible and Steve hummed into your hair, once more pulling your body against his, not an inch of space left between you. You melted into his warmth and finally, you felt his muscles fully relax as well.

As you once more walked the fine line of dozing off, a sudden thought caused you to snap your eyes open, your heart skipping a curious beat.

“Steve?” An absent hum was his only response, but encouraged by any reaction at all, you continued, knowing that you wouldn’t fall asleep without having the answer. “When you said it was hard… you weren’t referring to a… certain situation of yours, right? … or were you?”

Even with his body turning rigid, a rock-solid prove he was fully awake, he put effort into sounding sleepy.

“Just go to sleep, woman.”

“…were you?! Do you want me to… do some thorough inspection of y-“ you teased, fascinated, never finishing your thought as Steve’s large palm covered your mouth.

You resisted the urge to release the surprised laugh bubbling in your chest. It wasn’t that you thought Steve’s desire was ridiculous; you were just that amazed that it never came up; a true wonder given your line of work.

Momentarily incapacitated, you didn’t speak, but grazed your teeth over his palm so he would release you.

“Hush!”

“ ’khay-“ You muttered and he removed his palm, sleepy blue watching you in warning. You strained your neck to kiss the previously teased skin of his hand. “We’ll explore that another time. I’m beat. Still love you. Goodnight.”

With that, you curled back into his body, feeling the wide expand of his chest followed by an exasperated puff.

“Goodnight, you maniac. I love you too.”

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Pins and needles in your toes ripped you harshly from the dreamland and you groaned quietly, rescuing your foot from the vice created by Steve’s own.

Shared sleep was blissful, releasing endorphins, the feelings of comfort and safety it provided irreplaceable and all that, but having your limb pinned to the mattress by a supersoldier was no joke.

You checked the clock on the nightstand; 8:27 AM. Sparing a glance at the man sleeping beside you, his arm wrapped around your waist, palm sprawled over our abdomen, you smiled despite the early hour.

Any other morning, you would have shaken off the cramp and scooted over to get even closer to Steve; however, determined to do something nice for him and make sure he was alright with what he had clearly considered an irresponsible stunt of yours yesterday, you thanked heavens for the unexpected get-up call and planned on wiggling out of Steve’s grasp.

“Where ya’ goin’?” he mumbled sleepily, the inches you had managed to put between your bodies erased as his arm pulled you back, his nose nuzzling your hair with a sigh.

“Bathroom,” you lied easily, lightly patting his forearm. “We’ve barely slept for five hours. You still have thirty minutes till your usual start of the post-mission day, you crazy-ass lark. I’ll be right back.”

“Mm-hmm… I’ll be waitin’.”

Chuckling silently, you freed yourself fully, this time without his protests.

“I’m sure you will, Steve,” you whispered, your smile widening when only ten seconds later, your words were followed by his quiet snort.

Grabbing one of Steve’s hoodies thrown over the backrest of a chair and sliding into it, you made your way to the communal kitchen instead. Your mission was to make Steve breakfast, secretly hoping you could talk him into skipping the usual run today and actually spending a day in bed. You thwarted big bad’s plans yesterday, for god’s sake, you both deserved a break…

As a reminder of the past events, a bruise the size of a boot on your thigh – which you didn’t remember getting – stared accusingly at you when you passed a mirror. You inconspicuously pulled the hem of Steve’s hoodie an inch lower in attempt to cover it. Vainly.

Rolling your eyes, you wondered just how nice you needed to be today; Steve had seemed more freaked out than anything else; nevertheless, the anger could come today and you rather if it didn’t.

Deciding pancakes, eggs and bacon were a safe bet, you hummed and opened the fridge.

It was the exact moment something caught you eye, a change in decorum; right above your head on the top of the fridge.

A big fat zero stared at you from the sign you had got Steve a while ago, a memorandum of your first first-hand experience of his utter recklessness on missions. Ever since then, you and the rest of the team made sure to have the board up-to-date, sometimes proudly and sometimes regretfully rewriting the number of ‘days without Steve doing stupid life-threatening shit’.

Now there was a zero. Your jaw went slack, your heartbeat skyrocketing.

It was not the only change on the sign.

Someone, and you had a very good idea who that might be (hint: he was sleeping in your bed), plastered your name over Steve’s.

Your smile froze on your lips and at that moment, you could have been knocked out with a feather.

Unbelievable.

Un-fucking-believable.

Shutting the fridge with a loud thud, bottles in its door clinking, you strode back to your shared room, sputtering curses.

The audacity of him!

When had he even- how had he done– all night— you had woken up before him-!

Forget pancakes, eggs and bacon; snark was on the menu today.

“STEVEEEEEN!”

You heard his laughter before you even reached the bedroom.

Looking at the bright sight of things, Steve being a little shit was a positive shift from his late-night anxiety. A brief smile crossed over your face before you stormed into the room, finding the blond culprit muffling his chuckles in a pillow.

Your pillow.

Jumping to the bed, you grabbed his own and opted to show him just how stupid you could get.

Because trying to take down a supersoldier in a pillow fight? The zero might have to stay on the board for one extra day.

As Steve’s carefree laughter echoed within the walls of your bedroom, filling you with pure joy, you decided you could live with that.

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If you’d like to know the origin of the board, I kindly point you towards my S.R. masterlist, specifically to Challenge Accepted…? Fair warning: it has more drama than this one.

Thank you for reading! ❤️