#and complicated things can be outside of their tower. i almost want to say the same can be said for peony.

[moe-broey]

Me, losing my absolute mind over the fairies and the greater implications of it all and the intricacies I swear to fucking god are there I swear to fucking GOD there's way more to them than meets the eye and I'm going to fucking get all the alts I fucking can so I can study The Lore and I'll fucking get to the fucking bottom of it all --

.............. you know what. A nap does sound nice.

[krys4h]

𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ◞﹒୧ .

✧ ⁝ 𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 ◞ ྀི

— my thoughts & headcanons on how i think he would be as a lover (or not...) fluff, nsfw, hurt.

𓍯 a silent lover. the type to love in secret, hidden from sight. cold facade, worried heart for his loved ones. you feel his affection in the little things like when you feel down and he always prepares your favorite meal without a word, trying to create comfort and affection that he can't express with words. a confession would be too loud for him.

𓍯 he prefers to watch, observe and protect those he cares about behind their backs. the type to lie to you about his schedule - because it's physically impossible for him to verbalize his feelings - and go secretly confront a devil who was giving you a hard time.

𓍯 aki loves to make love to you during rainy days, forehead pressed against yours, his breath brushing your lips. it's intimate, despite the fact he run away from any emotional intimacy. he can't say i love you with his mouth, makima's shadow covering his heart and his words but he can convey his feelings in his kisses, his hands that circle around your clit, touching in spots nobody did.

𓍯 his eyes that soften only for yours will always follow you, everywhere you're going.

𓍯 he spend his night looking at you when you're sleeping, wondering why God gave him such a gift in his life but not enough time to cherish it.

𓍯 you always felt it even though it was silent. he seemed so detached from you, always careful that his eyes didn't linger on you for too long - attempt failed, they always found you -, you had to squint, see the unsaid, and understand the innuendos to perceive the love he had for you.

𓍯 it takes time. it takes time to go from a cold look when judging a stranger, to the first nods, the first half-smiles that precede the softened glances. it took him time to get used to having someone who cares for him like you do. maybe it was complicated to accept the fact that he was finally the first choice for someone, and not the forgotten youngest of his family like he always was. your warm air when you saw him coming from afar felt weird for him, almost inappropriate. when you seemed too happy to see him he couldn't help but frown at how your eyes always looked illuminated for him. weird. almost inappropriate.

𓍯 it takes time, but the slight pang in his heart he feels every time he feels your affection for him is slowly starting to disappear. he can't be openly expressive like you, but he's starting to accept it. it takes time. his love is silent when yours is so loud that it becomes overwhelming and he feels like he doesn't deserve it.

𓍯 it's understandable, everyone is dying around him. he's the only one who hasn't lost his humanity yet and mourns the deaths of those who defend the people of this city. it touches him. death scares him so much that he can't allow himself to truly get attached to someone, it would be like welcoming someone with big arms for a hug with arms full of thorns. to engulf you, to make you dive with him. no, he can't. he really can't.

𓍯 it doesn't matter how his breath hitches every time he feels when your silhouette towers over him, your hips undulating in the most exquisite way, so eager to please him. he doesn't even need to guide you with his hands on your hips, it's already too good. it doesn't matter the almost painful but sweet feeling he has in his stomach when the lights are out with the only sounds being the creaking bed and your soft breath. he feels so safe with you, you make him so wanted that he starts to think that life might be worth living outside of his desire for revenge.

𓍯 but it doesn't matter, he can't say "i love you", the poor man doesn't even manage to smile normally. there's always an awkward look.

𓍯 he was so caught up in the curse of his family's vengeance that he had closed himself off from any relationship that went beyond the professional sphere. but... it was hard not to succumb to you. he couldn't give you the bright future and romance you deserved, but he could give you the remnants of his heart he had left. working with you, doing missions and hunting devils together, and sometimes, when you were a little too drunk, kisses on the neck that would slip into panting. no commitment. that was what he could offer you. he thought it would protect him from the loss of not putting a word on your relationship, like a wall for pain. he lied to himself so much. he was already madly in love, and if he were to lose you right now, it would be the end of him.

𓍯 it was up to you to decode if the hands that brushed you at night sought only for pleasure or for your heart, because even if for a moment, you would lose control of your emotions and let your love for him express itself, an "i love you" that should have remained hidden, he would not answer it.

𓍯 aki loves you too, that's a fact. but he wouldn't let you see it. he wasn't going to make the mistake of investing too much in a relationship that was inevitably going to go badly, and make you hope. you deserved better, he thought. you were his heaven in the hell that was the daily life of a devil hunter. so dear, so precious to him.

𓍯 𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬

[sweetimpurity]

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚ day 30!! ahhhh what the heck I can't believe it's been a month already ahhhhhhhh wc: 2.4k cw: use of Daddy, if that's not your thing, keep scrolling and love ya!!

“Baby, would you bring me a light?” His deep voice calls out from his office, making you turn your head. He’s your boss. Savvy businessman with more money than anyone would ever need. Friends with almost as much money as he’s got. But you’ve spent more than a few nights wound up in his bed. Smelling his cologne on your skin, in your hair. It would be complicated if he wasn’t solely set on having you. But he’s a man who knows what he wants. And that’s you.  

 You get up from your desk outside his office door, grabbing the lighter you keep there for him. Walking into his office and hearing the wealthy laughter of his business partners discussing something at his desk with smiles and scotch on rocks, cigars in hand. The room full of the smell. Only Miguel’s cigars smell somewhat decent. Smelling floral and fruity. The other men, it just smells like gasoline, choking you. 

“Here you go, sir…” You smile with a nod, being polite in front of his guests. Holding out the lighter to give it to him. He laughs along with whatever his associate is saying, placing the cigar between his lips before looking up at you. His brown eyes, reddish in the light. Leaning forward for you to light it. Once it lights up, the embers glow, he leans back in his seat, his eyes roaming you like he’s appraising you. 

“Hey pretty thing… Can I get a light too?” His business partner asks, leaning forward with his pipe in hand. You go to reach the lighter forward but Miguel tosses a small box of matches across the desk to him. Giving the man a subtle glare. But it sends the message. He had matches all along? 

Once the man leans back in his seat, taking the box of matches in defeat, Miguel looks back up at you. Admiring you, unashamedly so. 

“Would you get me some more wine please baby?” He asks softly, pushing his almost empty wine glass across the desk. You can tell he’s feeling the effects. The way he’s looking at you. The deepness of his voice. After being his personal assistant for this long, you know. Nodding softly, picking up the glass but there’s still a bit inside. His hand comes around yours, his long fingers wrapping around your hand on the glass as he tilts it back to dribble into his mouth, his lips getting a bit of a reddish tint from the strong wine. “Thank you…” He sighs, letting go, catching the flush on your cheeks matching his own from the alcohol. when he looks back up at you. Smiling to himself as you walk away to pour him more wine. 

The men’s eyes follow you as you walk away. Smirking to themselves and watching the way your hips sway. “I gotta get an assistant like her.” One of the men comments. Making Miguel look their way. “My wife would kill me…” The man chuckles. “Who could keep their hands off a hot piece like that?” 

Miguel suddenly frowns. Seeing the way they both look at you. Not liking it in the slightest. A frown overtaking his features. “I think we’re done for today.” He says suddenly. Giving them both a hard look. Staying in his seat but expecting that they get up. And leave. 

“Right, yes… we’ll talk another time.” They mumble goodbyes, getting up once they get the hint. Smiling awkwardly at you as they walk out of the office. Just as you’re bringing the glass of wine back over to the desk. “Meeting over?” 

“It is, indeed, baby…” He nods, watching you put the wine down, standing on the other side of his desk. He puts out the cigar, saving it for another time, slumped casually against the cushions. In his black fitted suit, stretched in places where his broadness and musculature threatens the thread. “Taste some… it’s very expensive.” He smiles. 

You look down at the dark wine in the glass. “I’m still on the clock, Mr. O’hara…” You sigh with a knowing smile. He chuckles, looking up at you before standing up from his seat, towering over you, picking up the glass gingerly. “Always so formal… you know better…” He sighs, slowly walking around his desk to be on your side. 

“Do I not make you feel… comfortable by now?” He asks, standing behind you. His tall hulking form. His voice by your ear, the heat of his breath on your skin. “Or… do I… make you feel something else… entirely… hopefully…” He whispers, his face dipping into the side of your neck. Arms coming around you from behind. His free hand pressing and sliding down your tummy, smoothing over the fabric of your office attire. Getting lower.

“Drink some, babygirl…” He hums, lifting the wineglass in front of you with the other hand, closer and closer to your lips. The same glass that his lips were just on. Smelling the strong alcohol as it comes closer, along with the fruity smell. Until it meets your lips and he watches carefully as he tips the glass back, gently letting some dribble and pour into your mouth, past your lips. Making sure not to drown you in it. Letting you have a taste before pulling it back. 

You swallow with a small breath. He drinks the strongest wine ever made it seems. The burn down the back of your throat. 

“You’re a very good girl…” He says. Quite unprompted. His sharp white canines glinting in the light as he smiles at you. All you did was drink the wine. Turning your head slightly to catch his eye. “So obedient… so loyal… so so pretty…” He whispers, the tip of his nose grazing against your cheek and his lips ghosting over your skin. In a feather light touch. 

“Thank you…” You whisper. Feeling positively breathless under his touch, in his arms. His hand on your tummy pressing in, his fingers to your womb. “You can do better than that, baby…” He whispers, kissing the corner of your lips. And the answer comes to you quickly. You know exactly what he wants to hear. “Thank you, Daddy…” 

His beefy arms tighten around you at the name. His face pushing into the crook of your neck and biting down, little bites here and there, and wet hot kisses too, making you gasp. Before he pulls away, lifting his head and chugging the rest of the wine. Gulping it down with a satisfied huff, lips red and plump and wet with wine, placing the glass down haphazardly before grabbing your chin to turn your face to him, kissing you hard and deep. His tongue instantly invading your mouth, the taste of wine mixing with the cigar he had. Mixed with the natural taste of him. “Say that again.” He huffs once he finally separates himself from you. 

“Daddy-” You can’t help but whine, coming out at half a gasp, his lips smacking back onto yours instantaneously. His brow furrowing, a primal sort of fire lighting inside. The need to take you. To push you down and take you right now is too much to ignore. He holds your face again, glaring down at you as he pulls away again. “Strip down, baby…”

He steps back, turning around like he’s looking for something. But you don’t need to be told twice. Quickly unbuttoning your blouse, working it off. And then wiggling your way out of your skirt, then your nylons. Kicking your heels off. And he’s looking for something in the cabinet of his office. 

This isn’t the first time this has happened obviously. But it feels like the first time everytime. Every time your wealthy boss, who's nearly 15 years older than you, tells you to get naked, you do it. 

“I have something for you…” He says, finding something in his cabinet and bringing it over. A small blue velvet box. You stand there in your bra and panties, wondering what it is. And he comes back over, raising a brow at the sight of you still partially clothed. “I said strip, sweet girl…” 

You blink, long lashes fluttering and an ache already between your thighs. Submitting to his dominance every damn time without question. The fact that he can get you naked in a matter of a few minutes without having to remove a piece of clothing himself just proves it. Bending down to push your underwear off. Letting it pool at your feet on the floor. His dark eyes flicking down over your exposed nakedness. And then working off your bra for him. Falling free of the material. Looking up at him, like waiting for his approval. You’re used to being naked with him by now. “Such a pretty girl…” He whispers, leaning in and smooching your cheek, leaving a few hot kisses along your throat before pulling back. Holding the box out to you. “This is for you…” 

He lets you take the box before stepping away, walking behind you and letting you see for yourself. You look down at the fancy container, feeling the velvet under your fingertips. Placing it on the desk before opening it. White satin cushions inside supporting a sparkling diamond pendant. A single sparkling diamond on a simple silver chain. Perfectly beautiful. 

Your eyes widening at the sight. He’s given you gifts and spoiled you always but this is a lot. “Do you like it?” His deep voice hums next to your ear suddenly. Pressing up against your back. His bare chest through his dress shirt which is now open. 

“It’s beautiful…” You manage to say. Speechless at the gesture. Leaning into him when he starts kissing your neck again. Suckling and biting down on your skin. “What’s the occasion?” You smile, breaking from your trance. 

“No occasion… just thought you needed it.” He hums, moving up on your jaw and pecking your lips. “Go away with me?”

“What?” 

“Let’s go away… anywhere in the world… just you and me.” He says. And you can’t help but turn in his arms, to face him a bit more. His hands roaming your naked body, long fingers pressing into your flesh. “I’ll give you anything… everything you want.” He whispers, looking in your eyes.

“What’s going on with you?” You whisper with a smile. The stoic, hardened man seems to become mush when he’s wrapped around you. He smiles. “I just can’t get you off my mind…” 

“Allow me.” He says, reaching his hands around you to the velvet box. Pulling the stunning necklace out. Opening the clasp and pulling it up around your neck. Sitting pretty and sparkly against your skin. Clasping it closed at your nape. Letting his fingers brush through your hair gently, then down your back. “I wanna be the only one on your mind… the only one in your heart… in your perfect pussy too…” 

He huffs, holding you tight and nuzzling his nose against yours. Dripping between your thighs and trying to press them together. “Just say ‘yes, Daddy’ and you’ll be mine…” 

You swallow hard, feeling hazy, fuzzy from his words, his touch. “Yes, Daddy…” 

“Say… ‘please, Daddy’… say it.” He whispers, dark eyes piercing into you. “P-please, Daddy…” The words leave your lips in a tiny hum, meek like a mouse caught by the cat’s claws. “Tell me what you want...” 

The bluntness makes you blush, the embarrassment of admitting the need for his attention, his love, his cock. It’s intoxicating. “I want… I… want to be yours, Daddy, please?” 

“That’s a good girl…” His lips press to yours, gathering you up in his arms. Moving his lips against your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue, tasting you again. One of his hands pushing some things back on the desk, out of the way. Lifting you up smoothly and sitting you on the edge. Nudging your legs apart and slotting between them. Your slick cooling from the air, your clit buzzing for attention. 

His fingers move down between your legs, finding your core and caressing you, making you tremble and whine into his mouth. Parting from his lips in a gasp and rolling your hips into his hand when a thick finger slips in you. “That good babygirl? Dime…” 

“Mmm so good… more Daddy… please more” You whine, your head rolling back and feeling his digits plunge into your velvet heat. Two fingers slipping in now and his thumb on your clit to get you there. To stretch you out for his cock, get you wet to take him. You always take him so well. 

“Ooh.. Da-addyyy…” You gasp, grabbing his wrist and squeaking as your impending orgasm threatens any shred of composition you still possess. ”Unghh” You growl, clenching around his fingers and coming soon after. His arm anchors around your back to keep you from squirming away. Smiling down at you and watching you fall apart. “Beautiful girl…” He whispers in praise after watching you climax, pulling out from your cunt and holding you closer still while pulling his belt out. The clink of metal and leather slipping out from the loops. Falling with a heavy clank onto the desk beside you. His pants pushed down only far enough for him to be free. Rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your heat. 

The warmth and slick tempting him. 

“You’re my good girl huh? Yeah?” 

“Y-yeah… mmmhmm…” 

“Mhm…” He hums, looking down at you almost sympathetically like you’re in heat. Pushing his tip to your entrance and prodding. Testing it out and seeing what you’ll take yet. And when you pull him closer, your legs around his waist, he pushes in more, a few inches in. The both of you hissing from the feeling.

He works you out, pushing deeper, all the way to the hilt. The dark hair at his base pushing up against your clit and tickling. The hair that travels up to his navel, dark and pretty on his skin. And then across his chest. Your hands on his chest and head in his neck as he pumps into you, squishing into you over and over. Your hands push and grab at his shirt, trying to push it off. And he lets you pull it off him, his deep skin so warm, almost like burning up. All over you, smothering you in the best way.

“You wanna come on Daddy’s cock?” He huffs, suddenly grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling back, nose to nose and pounding into your cunt faster now. “You want that, huh?”

“Mmmmnghmmm” You whine over and over. “Yes yes yes yes…”

You're his... for sure.

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

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@sp0ck136 @lazyninjaphilosopher

@pinkdizzyship @opalwitchart

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[fairytsuk1]

bachata baby | (s)

apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!

pairing: shigaraki tomura x reader

words: 8.7k

prompt: "getting paired up at a dance class"

warnings: enemies to lovers, cunnilingus, dom!shigaraki, sensual dancing, tit play, fingering, hand kink, doggystyle, protected sex, alcohol, frat party, complicated relationship

  You’d absolutely lost the class registration lottery. After days, even weeks of agonizing over what classes filled which requirements and yet still gave you enough wiggle room to have your off days, you were exhausted. Everything was planned to a tee, and your dismayed face was evident as you told your roommate the dreadful news.

“I have to take a dance class! A partner dancing class! I might as well drop out,” you cry forlornly, looking at Nejire’s baby blue rug in frustration.

“It can’t be that bad! I mean, at least the professor’s good, right? Nemuri Kayama, I think. She’s one of the best; you’re in good hands,” your friend pets your head softly before leaping onto her plush bed, “maybe you’ll even dance with someone cute! You should keep your head high.”

“...Well, I guess. If I’m with a creep, I’m gonna be so annoyed! How are you so positive?”

Nejire seems to think over her answer before giving you a teasing grin, “because I got the schedule I wanted.”

“Nejire!”

She’d reassured you she was just joking, but it was true. If you were in her position, you’re sure you’d be glad to have everything work out how you want it to. Sucking it up, you were determined not to let a stupid class ruin your well-earned GPA. You don your best comfy clothes and arrive ten minutes early at the studio. 

A couple of people are hanging out in the studio, and there’s a pleasant buzz of chatter while you sit. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. People continued trickling in, and before you could realize it, your professor clapped her hands.

“Good morning, everyone!”

Your face burns a bit hot, was she supposed to wear such tight (and revealing!) clothing? She quickly introduces herself even with all the muttering, “I hope today goes as well for you as it does for me, and I want you to all know that this class will excite you, will make you feel, and most importantly is a lot of fun!”

Everyone around you seems to be either drinking in your professor’s appearance or wondering if they should drop the class; you’re thinking the latter, too, until she drops a bomb on the students.

“You’re all too uptight! You know what? Partner up!”

It feels like you’re about to faint. Looking left, people are making eyes and nodding at each other. Looking right, it’s the same thing, and your heart stops at the realization that you don’t have a partner. There’s so much chatter and commotion as people enter the room to find a clear spot for this cruel icebreaker. 

“Does anyone not have a partner?”

You almost don’t raise your hand, but you have to. Red-hot shame is coursing through your veins. Could this get any worse?

Thankfully, a lanky and pale arm shoots into the sky alongside yours. Before you know it, Nemuri pushes you two toward each other and moves on to the assignment.

“First, say hello. These will be your partners for the rest of the semester, so make sure you like them! I know some of you are gonna date outside of class, and don’t get handsy over there!”

He’s very tall. You have to actually look up at his grumpy face to see him. His hair falls flat, looks damaged, and your cheek twitches. He’s not ugly! If he cared for his hair and maybe got more sleep… dare you say it, he could be cute.

Shigaraki towers over you easily, eyes raking your form (noting that he can see your perky tits in your bra from this advantage.) You look alright, but he’s getting the feeling that you think he’s weird, “you can stop looking at me like an animal.”

“I wasn’t! I really wasn’t,” you offer your hand and introduce yourself, “I really like your skull necklace!”

It feels like a ruse, and Shigaraki reluctantly takes your hand with a bored face, “I’m Shigaraki. Thanks.”

While others seemed to be faring better with their partners, it feels off-putting that he won’t even try to converse with you. If he’s going to have his hands on you, how could he act so cold!?

“Well, jeez. Don’t try to say it all at once,” you mumble sourly, to which your partner scoffs.

“It’s just a class. It’s not even important.”

“It’s important to me,” and you don’t like this guy.

“Then maybe you should find a different partner.”

You look like a kicked puppy when he says that, but he doesn’t take it back and mentally stews in his harshness. Maybe he should make a better effort… you were cute, he supposed. You had great tits, and you complimented his necklace.

Turning back to Nemuri, you can’t think of anything to say to that. Even though you don’t know him, it still stings a bit and your confidence leaks. Were you really that down on your luck?

Nemuri begins, telling each duo to get in a typical slow-dance pose for fun and to “get to know each other more.” It’s starting to get a little creepy, but you wind your arms around Shigaraki’s shoulders anyways. He rests his hands casually on your waist but doesn’t hold you like others. 

“Aren’t you supposed to hold my waist?”

He snickers, “do you want me to?”

Trying to talk to this man is pointless, but you almost smile at his response anyway.

“Just don’t be weird!”

“No promises,” and he’s glad to see you smile at his pervertedness.

Shigaraki decides to be nicer right then and there, in his own way.

Nemuri instructs you to casually slow dance and continue conversing; she even adds music to jazz up the class, which surprisingly works. Your nerves are melting away like butter, and Shigaraki seems to have mildly warmed up to you.

“So… Do you like to dance?”

“Fuck no.”

His bluntness makes you giggle, “yeah, me either. Except at, like, parties. But I wouldn’t really call it dancing!”

“You go to parties?”

“Sometimes! I have a lot of friends who go, so it’s like an outing every time! Do you go to parties?”

It feels kind of dumb to ask that question. No offense to him, but you’re already suspecting his answer before he gives it. He twirls you, and you feel a rush of butterflies.

“Not really. People don’t want a zombie dude at their parties,” his voice is gravelly but smooth, “but I’ve been to a few.”

“They’re fun!”

Before you can continue finding common ground, Nemuri is hollering about reading the syllabus and upcoming material you’ll cover. Shigaraki quickly gets his hands off you, and your heart aches.

“Hey, do you want to exchange social media?”

He’s already got his bag halfway on your shoulder, giving you an unimpressed look.

“I don’t use social media,” and he shuffles even closer to the parade of students exiting the lecture hall.

“Oh. Well, your number?”

You feel yourself grow hot when all he does is smirk and input your digits into his phone.

“There, do you need anything else?”

What happened to the Shigaraki from a few minutes ago? He seems to be in a rush, but you can’t help but feel hurt by his mood swings. Was he always going to be this irritable? Was he going to be someone you could count on in this class?

“...I guess not. Bye.”

He’s out of the room before you realize it, gingerly grabbing your stuff and worrying your lip. This class would be a piece of work, and you couldn’t find your footing so far. Maybe you should just drop it? But you really need that humanities credit and…

“It’s Nejire! Pick up the phone!” 

Nejire’s self-imposed ringtone is heard through your AirPods. The stress is already leaking out of your body just hearing her voice. If you had a girlfriend, she’d be it. You answer cheerily, “hey!”

“Hey! Are you coming back from class right now?”

“Yeah, I just got out. You have to hear about this; my partner sucks!”

Well… you’re embellishing. He doesn’t suck, but he’s not great.

“Aw man, really? I can’t believe it! I thought for sure it was gonna go okay….”

“It’s whatever! I’m over it,” you weren’t. “Why’d you call?”

“Oh! If you’re up for it, Phi Psi is having a party tonight! Do you wanna go?”

Hmm, ironic since you were just talking about parties. Maybe it’d be nice, and perhaps it’d be good to let loose for a couple of hours. The memory of Shigaraki telling you that he goes to some parties replays in your mind, but you try to ignore it.

“Sure! We can go. What’s the theme?”

Pajamas, she’d said. You know that your silk sleep set is more lingerie than anything else, but your nerves are buzzing with pre-gamed shots of vodka and the promise of attractive people buttering you up. Looking around, it’s a typical college party, and you’re already feeling warm from how guys eye you like you’re the hottest thing there.

Shigaraki thinks so and turns the corner, missing your flushed wandering eyes.

“We needa dance!”

Nejire babbles excitedly, Mirio accompanying her while she clutches your bicep.

“Mhm, mhm! Let me get another drink first!”

Mirio keeps Nejire’s legs from buckling and smiles, “we’ll be right here!”

You weave in and out of people, vision getting hazier and every touch feeling electric. A man starts pouring your drink, giving you a dazzling smile. He opens his mouth to talk, but you’re suddenly caged against the fence and face to face with Shigaraki’s chest.

“Wha?”

“Hey.”

He watches you search his eyes for a minute, teetering slightly as you sip the mix of alcohol and punch. Then, there’s remembrance, and you’re leaping joyfully into his chest. It feels… nice, and he gingerly pats your back before steadying you on the balls of your feet.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were going to be here. My friends are over there,” you point past his shoulder, and he sees a guy chasing a girl around, “hiii, Nejire!”

You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk, elongating words and joy coming out of you like a waterfall. A dainty hand grabs a bony one, and you’re about to drag Shigaraki toward your friends to “meet them!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” harsher than he meant to, he rips his hand away, “how drunk are you?”

You give an offended huff, “I’m not drunk! I only had a c-oop! A couple of shots! And this drink! It’s not even a lot….”

Shigaraki feels tempted to be childish and poke fun at you. Boop your nose and pull your hair, but you’re suddenly lost in thought and fascinated with your slippers.

“You look drunk.”

“Well, ’m not. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you right now,” and you’re suddenly invigorated and wanting to seek out your friends, but the first step sends you wobbling right into Shigaraki.

The boy yelps, hands gripping your shoulders and steadying you, “watch it!”

“Let go of me!”

Some onlookers look on, peering eyes, and boys puffing their chests out in case they need to step in. Shigaraki’s mind goes blank, and all he can think of is that you’re so fucking annoying, and why does he still want to help you?

Why did he think of you while fucking his fist in bed last night? He shushes you and crosses his arms.

“Do you want to walk home by yourself?”

You look like a child, happily saying” yes” and nodding proudly. Unfortunately, Shigaraki’s plan failed; you were too happy to wander off alone. He’s reminded of a time when people used to call him creepy when he was smaller and more bug-eyed.

“Oh, okay. Sure, get murdered. See if I care.”

This makes you react like you’re actually thinking about the consequences now. Mulling it over, you chew the inside of your lip and let your head roll back against the fence.

“...Well, I don’t wanna be murdered….”

“Then let me take you home.”

“Since when are you nice?!”

It may sting a bit, but he shows no emotion. He takes a calm breath and blows the air out through his nostrils. There are no words at first, and you’re looking at him with a glint in your eye, and he wonders what you look like when you laugh. When you cry or when you get really excited.

“You don’t even care about me.”

“... You’re my dance partner.”

He’s sure his heart overrode his brain. There’s no way he could say something so cheesy. It makes your heart pound; what did he mean by that? Your drunk brain couldn’t decipher how he presented his feelings, but then he was offering you a hand like a prince.

You never thought you’d call Shigaraki prince-like, and you’re worried that this might spiral out of control soon. Letting him lead you away, you figure that that’s definitely what will happen.

“Who’s room is…?”

Shigaraki has no idea and frankly can’t be bothered to care that he’s stumbling into a random frat guy’s room, “don’t know. Don’t really care?”

He tries to take your shoes off at least, but you’re unceremoniously dropping yourself onto the bed like a fish out of water. Shigaraki feels his cheek twitch in annoyance, and then you’re turning your head with a jutted lip.

“Are you gonna lie?”

“Am I going to what?”

He assures himself you’re too drunk to understand what you’re saying. There’s no reason for you to ask that other than the need to not be alone. You’d never ask that because you genuinely wanted, no, trusted Shigaraki to stay with you. He’d never believe it, but his feet carried him to the edge of the bed, and then he sank into the soft mattress.

It’s quiet, maybe too quiet. The music’s bass thrums through the floors, but all Shigaraki can hear is your soft breath. He doesn’t even realize you’re looking at him in the dimness of his room until he turns his head. His breath catches in his throat. Have you always been so pretty?

The alcohol makes you too sleepy too fast, and it feels like this moment is slipping away from you like you’re trying to cup water in your hands. It’s leaking out of you, and then his red eyes lock onto yours. 

“Why don’t you like me?”

“What do you mean,” and it comes out almost wounded.

“I-hic. I mean, like, when you suddenly act so… mean.”

For the first time in a long time, Shigaraki feels rendered speechless. He wants to jump up and run out of the room like the child he once was, but he can’t find the strength to pull away from your gaze.

“...I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t,” and he finally breaks eye contact to look through the window behind you, “you don’t have to pity me, then.”

“I don’t!” 

The end of your words slurs, and you know you’ll lose yourself to the intoxicating feelings of sleep soon.

“I just… I want to like you.”

“Like me?”

You smile widely before you lean forward and press a kiss to his nose. He even goes cross-eyed to try and follow your movements.

“You’re kinda… cute. But, you’re mean. So just be nice! Okay?”

He’s not even sure why he goes along with it.

“Okay.”

Your eyes close, and for a second, he thinks he’s finally free from this impromptu analysis of… well, him. But, you beat him to the chase and whisper quietly.

“I meant it.”

“What?”

“That you’re cute.”

One eye peeks open when he doesn’t respond, and the embarrassment that should be there is only replaced with pure elatedness. His eyes sparkled a bit more. It makes you think that you should compliment him more. You shut your eyes.

“You’re going to be embarrassed tomorrow.”

Maybe he waited too long, but all he knows is that your soft snores escape you quickly, and his heart warms at the sound. It shouldn’t, but it does. He falls asleep shortly after and dreams of a faceless girl who dances with him all night. The girl always keeps smiling at him no matter how stiff he is.

It’s a beautiful dream.

-

Shigaraki’s kind enough to shake you awake just past dawn, and the splitting headache doesn’t make the visual of him leaning over you with a gentle hand easier to see. 

“Hey. Wake up. Some frat dude is gonna yell at you.”

The idea of someone barging in makes you move to sit up and groan, “do you have any water?”

“No. Get up, hurry,” and he’s tugging you off the bed.

It was a bad idea, your sleep-addled brain lagging and causing you to flop directly into a firm chest, “watch out!”

“I’m sorry! I’m barely awake,” and it comes out like a whine, “can we get water?”

You almost think he’ll say no, tell you to fuck off and get water yourself. But, he makes a move you would’ve never expected, calmly lacing his hand with yours and steadying you on your feet.

“Fine, let’s just get going already.”

Was this the Shigaraki you’d met? Had he been replaced by a clone that happened to be identical to the tone of voice? The feeling of a bony hand in yours is unreal. You can hardly take your eyes off the entanglement while Shigaraki urges you to come down the stairs faster than you are.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Did I say something weird last night?”

It comes out in a whisper, and Shigaraki feels like going to college was a huge mistake when he pulls his hand away and holds it close to himself like you’re injured. Like he injured you.

So, be nice! Okay?

“Shigaraki?”

“You said I was cute.”

He’s blushing as he blurts it out like it’s a defense mechanism to keep you from getting closer. You rack your brain for the precise wording, but you can only remember bits and pieces of lying down to look at each other.

Did you really call him cute? You gnaw on your lip and look away, but as you glance at him again, you know you definitely did say that. Your lips turn upwards, the hilarity of you having to double-check while sober if you meant what you’d said...

Shigaraki was even hot now that you really looked at him, even with the tsundere thing going on.

“Well… well! I was drunk! Besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t like hearing it.”

“No, I didn’t. You’re mistaken.”

“What’s that, huh? Why do you look like a tomato, hm?”

He wants to throttle you, wagging your finger in his face and poking his cheek like he’s a zoo animal. 

“I should’ve just left you up there, let you get eaten by wolves.”

“But you didn’t.”

You’re right. Somehow in the mix of pushing you away and being pulled closer, he still stayed there the whole night to keep you safe. He still woke you early enough to escape the wolves lurking in the nearly destroyed frat house. He could’ve let you be eaten by wolves, but he didn’t.

“...Well, whatever. Let’s go.”

“Mkay.”

It’s surprising how you decide to drop the subject. This strange attraction thrummed in your bones, urging you to do something about this little… crush. You let him guide you out the door and towards his car, a beat-up little Toyota. It’s red, too, like his eyes. Maybe it was on purpose.

“You’re okay to drive?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Shigaraki drives recklessly, you note. The way his hands grip the wheel, tires screeching as he swerves out into the abandoned street and takes off. It should make you scared, want to yell, and demand he let you out. Only he gives you a quick glance and smirks. 

You really should talk to Nejire before you decide to fuck him. His music taste blares out of old speakers, a mix of rock and metal that wakes you like a good cup of coffee. You’re about to lose yourself to the Foo Fighters song, but then he snaps the knob down to zero and clears his throat. 

“You owe me.”

“I owe you what? I don’t owe you,” you even cross your arms for effect.

How cute.

“For taking care of you, ruined my night,” he’s lying, and he knows he’s lying, but he can’t help but take a chance.

Take a chance and see if you really mean it, if he’s not just making things up because you want to be nice. The part that runs deep in his blood tells him it can’t be true, and he hopes that, for once, he’s wrong.

“Psh, ruined. You love being around me. That’s why you get like that,” you push it even further, “you just don’t know how to tell me you want me.”

He doesn’t know what to say, and you’re carelessly whistling a tune while picking at your nails. 

“We have to practice our dance for class,” smooth, peaceful transition.

“Right! Tomorrow evening, in one of the practice rooms, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for walking me home.”

Shigaraki repeats his reply, and you note that he seems distracted. You wonder if you also seem distracted; you had a lot to think about!...

And all Shigaraki could think about was holding your waist in his hands. It made his heart thump in his chest. God.

The walk to the practice room was cold, and you were thankful for your quick thinking of wearing leg warmers like a ballerina. You’re unsure if Shigaraki is already there, but you’re shaking off the cold as quickly as possible while storming into the building.

He is there! His phone’s hooked up to a small speaker, and the pale blue walls make him shine even in dark clothing. His hair shakes when he gives you a blithe wave, “hey. Took you long enough.”

“Hey! I came as fast as I could. Is that your speaker?”

“Mm, no. My roommate’s, uh… Dabi? You don’t know him.”

Oh, you’ve heard of him. Frankly, this should be an even bigger red flag, but you pay it no mind and shrug, “I might’ve heard of him.”

He chuckles at that. So you have heard of him.

“Well, anyway. He never uses it, so I took it.”

“Wow, evil.”

You drop your bag next to his, a frumpy black backpack with suspicious stains. You sidle close to him, peering at his Spotify while he scrolls for the correct song.

“You should show me your Spotify account!”

“God no, you’ll never see it. C’mon, we need to get this over with.”

“Whaaaat? You don’t want to hang out and stall practicing with me?”

He’s gotten warmer since your first meeting, lips quirked up as he drops his phone and crosses his lazy arms, “nope.”

“Fine! We can practice, and maybe later, I can steal your phone for your Spotify.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his voice dips a bit lower, “c’mere.”

Something inside of you ignites, but you force yourself to ignore it while wrapping your arms around his shoulders; he slumps a bit to accommodate you, making the fire even hotter. You melt like butter into him. The two of you fit perfectly. You could feel it.

The melody is something from an old movie, gentle and sweet with a romantic vibe. It’s causing tension between you and Shigaraki.

It’s making you want to kiss him.

“You stepped on my foot,” he whispers while twirling you in a half-circle.

Squeaking a quiet apology, he rolls his eyes and dips you a tad, “you seem distracted.”

You can hardly hear him over “Easy Lovers” playing in the background. It’s consuming you whole like you might not ever breathe again.

“Do I?”

“Maybe I just don’t know you that well enough,” and you twirl again.

It’s just practicing for class, for a dumb class that wouldn’t even matter in four years. But you didn’t think of anything at that moment, just that you were pressing soft lips against chapped ones with a feeling of passion behind it. Even if he lacked lip balm, the sensation of him gripping your shirt made everything seem so much hotter. Sweeter.

He even has the gall to swipe his tongue over your lip like he’s the one who took the leap and kissed you first. You know that Shigaraki was too shy to kiss you first. 

“...”

It’s dead silent, his Spotify queue echoing automatically and filling the room with music you don’t think you’ve ever heard. Shigaraki nearly shivers at the confused gleam in your eyes.

“It’s called shoegaze.”

“Shoegaze?”

“Yeah,” and he’s barely finishing the word before taking your cheek in hand and bringing you back to him.

Your breath hitches and you want to get so close the two of you nearly fuse together. Dainty hands tangled in his hair, all raggedy and muted like his skin or clothes. Something about how his bony fingers dig into the curve of your waist keeps your head spinning, and you don’t even realize he owns you by pressing you against the wall and licking the inside of your mouth.

“Sh-aah.”

The moan wasn’t too loud, but it echoed in his head. Shigaraki has never been the type to be so openly carnal and animalistic, and yet it was coming out with every kiss he dotted on the skin of your neck. He could fuck you here if he was so pleased, and briefly, he worried when he felt his cock stir in his pants.

You bring him back to you, grasping like a lifeline and laving over the slickness of his mouth and how he was strong enough to carry you just off the ground. It was stupidly hot; when did he get all this power? It’s like it overtook him, and the two of you part; neither of you wanted to.

“We need to stop.”

“But can’t we–”

“No. Not here,” he mulls over his following words with an annoyed look, “and I don’t have a condom.”

You nearly burst out laughing in his face, dry heaving and keeling over. But it’ll upset him, and that’s the last thing you want. “Oh, well, I’m on birth control?”

“Stop.”

He seems firm in his decision, but you can’t help but wiggle your hips toward him enticingly. Maybe he’ll cave, let you give him a handjob or something. I mean, that’s not that bad, right?

“Please?”

Shigaraki would usually feel irritation rise quickly and overwhelm him, but his eyes flicker down to your wandering hands and wiggling hips. Well, he was serious about not wanting to fuck here, but…

“I’m only doing this so you’ll be quiet!”

He sinks to his knees. You salivate at sight, brimming with joy and confidence. His thumbs hook in your belt loops, and he tenderly runs his hands over your thighs, “grab onto the ballet bar.”

You don’t think you’ll collapse to your knees, but you’re shaking in anticipation because he looks like he knows what he’s doing. The way he swiftly tugs your leggings and panties down in one go, you can feel your arousal smearing your thighs; you were already horny just from kissing him.

Finally, he looks relaxed, parting your puffy lips and admiring your dripping hole.

“It’s cute.”

“Shut up,” you’re breathless already with how you can feel his breath right where you need him.

Then, he’s licking from your clenching hole to the nub of your clit, the glide slick with spit as he gets to work.

“Shigaraki!”

You nearly scream, legs angling in too close, but his surprisingly firm grip keeps you how he wants you. Your hands wrench around the ballet bar as he licks every fold so he can taste as much of you as possible. 

It’s wonderful, and you know now that he does in fact, know what he’s doing, especially with how his nose and cheeks are beginning to shine with arousal. He’s eating you like a man starved like he can’t get enough from fucking you on his tongue; he needs more and more. He licks into your hole, savoring every drop with a clench on your ass that’ll leave bruises for days.

He sucks your clit between his lips before pulling away with a pop, “you’re such a fucking brat.”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry! Just keep,” and you tilt your hips towards his shiny lips again, “please? Feels so good….”

It’s rewarding how he flattens his tongue to grind up your slit, devouring you like he had too much time to practice. The way he toys with your pussy; makes your legs shake and your back arch off the mirror displaying your debauchedness.

Shigaraki mumbles something, but you’re too busy tilting your hips into his face and making him nearly unable to breathe as you tremble on his tongue. He tonguefucks you, digging deep with obscene slurping noises echoing around you, “oh, fuuuuck.”

Your hands entangle in his white strands, grounding you while you speed towards your orgasm like a rocket setting into space. Shigaraki seems to sense your quickened breaths and gyrating hips; his hands grip your ass cheeks to pull you closer as he makes you creamy. He holds you in place, forcing you to feel his tongue grinding flat circles over your clit before dipping down to lap over your pussy. He acts as if it’s a dessert. Like it’s a real treat to eat you out.

He pulls away, mildly huffing out of breath, “stop moving.”

Soft pecks are placed on your inner thighs as he lets you grow needier and needier through pussy neglect, “Shigaraki, please.”

“Please, what? You’re so selfish,” and he gives a hard suck to your clit, “I should just leave you here.”

 “No! No, don’t!” 

His rough treatment of you makes you jump, but he doesn’t leave you like he threatened. Instead, he kissed the mound of soft curls in the apex of your thighs, nose curving down the slope of your thigh as his breath barely ghosted over your slick lips.

“I want you to be the one that makes me feel good,” maybe if you lay it on thick, he’ll be forced to listen to you!

Instead, all he rewards you with is an unreadable look, but then he’s diving back in between your legs, and you can’t focus on what that look means because Shigaraki will make you cum.

“Yes, yes! Keep going, hah… your tongue’s so deep!”

The wet sounds make you flush, and his intensity makes you jump to your tip-toes and tilt away from the warm, wet mouth that chases you no matter how you tilt your hips.

Your legs are shaking, threatening to close, and the stretched coil snap could happen anytime you’re barely saying, “feel like I’m gonna, gonna c-ungh. Gonna cum…!”

He keeps going. Determined and sloppy with how he’s not even taking a second to breathe. You’re nearly there, humping his face with moans of his name that turn his ears pink. A hand snakes up your leg, and there’s a wet squelch as he easily slips two fingers inside. The stretch is delicious torture, and you cum while crying out.

“Shigaraki!”

His fingers help you ride out your orgasm, the remnants glistening on his fingers as your cream sticks to them lewdly before he sucks the essence off. He stands once you’ve regained yourself. 

“Pretty good,” and he gives his hand one last lick; he can’t even stop the snark from appearing.

“Shut up! You’re so embarrassing.”

“Yeah, yeah, didn’t I just make you cum? All whiny, ‘ah, ah! Shigaraki mmph!’ right?”

“No! Not even right at all,” and he casually leans over you with his hands on the ballet bar as if you two were dating as if he was actually your boyfriend, “...but thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Well, well, I mean! Thank you for… indulging me.”

You had trailed off, not even realizing how close he was to your ear until he whispered a gravelly, “you’re so very welcome for making you cum, if that’s what you mean.”

Neither of you speaks. You can’t help but look down and notice the bulge in his pants. He seems unbothered, but leaving him high and dry feels unfair.

“Do you want me to…?”

He gives a quick glance down but shakes his head, “Nah. We should just wrap all of this up, though.” 

“Right,” and yet you don’t stop thinking about it while both of you make the practice room look neat again.

Even while walking you back home, his second time, Shigaraki knows that there’s something secretive on your mind.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing! Just tired.”

“...Right.”

He stares at you for too long before you head into your dorm. You know what’s coming but don’t make the first move. He’s quick about it, but he does kiss you. It’s so fast, sweet, and low stakes that you smile warmly at him.

“Goodnight, Shigaraki.”

The boy nods, pulling up his hoodie, “night.”

You can’t wait to tell Nejire all about it.

“You what?! You had sex with Shigaraki?!”

Nejire’s in disbelief, nearly falling off her bed as she bolts towards your side of the room, “you really did?”

“Other people can probably hear you! But, well, yeah. It wasn’t like we went all the way or anything! He just went down on me,” the pink in your cheeks is evident while you begin to unravel the story.

“Wait, where was this again?”

“Oh. The, well, the practice room?”

“The practice room?!.”

She suddenly bursts into laughter, and you feel your cheeks twitching as you squeeze her hands, “c’mon, it’s not funny!”

“No, no, it’s not. I didn’t think Shigaraki would eat pussy in the practice room!”

Sometimes you regret telling your roommate anything, but it took the edge off thinking about how he hadn’t texted you. Should you expect a text? You figured it would be something lighthearted, but he just went radio-silent. Just like that, it hurt, you had to admit. But, you weren’t gonna let him get away with it. You’ll get your payback soon, finally get him to realize what he’s really feeling.

You hope it’s the same as what you’re really feeling.

Then, the day of your presentation is like the sunrise. Knowing everyone would be watching you didn’t ease your nerves. Considering Shigaraki had been ignoring your texts since the last time you met, it felt like he was contributing to your anxiety just as much as the actual dance! You could hardly get dressed, shrugging on your comfiest yet presentable clothes. 

Maybe he thought it was a mistake, and your fingers were itching to send a text. Nejire had advised you to send something short and sweet before leaving for the day, and you finally cave while brushing your teeth.

[Dance Partner]: Do you want to meet up before class?

Shigaraki lay in bed, still in pajamas and debating whether to drop out. His heartbeat spikes at the message, and it feels so dumb to get excited over a mere text. He’d been practicing, unbeknownst to you, spending so much time in the bathroom with the door locked to practice his footwork that he’d gotten an angry text from his roommate.

[Shigaraki]: I think it’s fine

Part of you wonders if he’ll show up at all.

[Dance Partner]: I’m nervous.

He doesn’t reply, but he feels the same. Eventually, he meandered his way to his closet to pick his outfit. Yeah, he was nervous too. 

You spot him first, and part of you wants to wave him over but he seems to hardly look up. This was all fruitless. You should’ve never done anything in that practice room. Tears prickle your vision at the sudden emotion of it, a test, and knowing a guy wants nothing to do with you? It sucks much more than you thought it would.

“Hey.”

He’s calm, voice smooth and honeyed as he sits next to you. Hopefully, he doesn’t notice your glassy eyes.

“Hey.”

The silence passes between you as more people file in, and Nemuri sets up the class materials. 

“I don’t think you should be nervous,” he pauses to side-eye you, “I’ve been practicing.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to give you a bad grade, and I need to pass.”

He put you first, and maybe it’s dumb to analyze his order of priorities, but it makes you feel special, “I think we’ll do well.”

You finally turn to look at him, and he’s already looking at you.

“Stop acting weird.”

“I-I’m not! I’m just nervous!”

“Yeah, right,” and a gentle hand settles on your knee, “I know what you’re thinking. About the practice room.”

“You’re the one that didn’t text me back.”

He doesn’t reply right away, but you know he feels terrible. The way he swallows and clenches his free fist, the regret is a bit palpable.

“...I know, and I’m sorry.”

He squeezes your knee for emphasis, “genuinely.”

You suppose it’s okay, mumbling that you forgive him and relishing in the burn that his hand leaves on your leg. Nejire clears her throat, and you listen to her instructions. His hand doesn’t leave your knee.

She calls your names about halfway into class, and suddenly the lights seem too bright once you’re on stage. You can feel your leg shaking as you stand interlocked with Shigaraki. He looks calm and collected. If anything, he seems to be more worried about you. 

Indeed he can feel your anxiety shakes, and then his thumb rubs the space between your collarbones. It suddenly feels like everything will be alright.

“Are you two ready?”

You squeak out a “yes!” and Shigaraki merely nods; the music follows, and you retreat into your mind to remember every step.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers softly, and you feel like you could do anything.

The two of you dance to the same song in the practice room while you swim across the floor with grace, the type of grace that’s only there because you have a connection. It comes effortlessly, Shigaraki leading with you following as he steadily guides you by your waist. 

You remember to make eye contact, and your breath is stolen because your biggest fears have been confirmed. You like Shigaraki. You want him carnally. More than anything in the world, you move like two souls on the same plane. Everything about it is perfect.

He stops the momentum, your upper half steadily supported by a hand that shows so much tenderness between your shoulder blades. The two of you were breathing softly, near exhaustion with the way your bodies swirled together into one.

“Excellent! Very nice. Any critiques?”

The spell is broken, and you’re collecting your breath while smoothing your clothes. Whew, that was something. Your eyes track toward Shigaraki’s, and he’s looking at you again.

“I thought you guys looked very clean,” said a meek girl desperate to escape the room’s silence.

You offer a “thanks” and note the critique of better posture, among other surface criticism. Nemuri writes on her clipboard, smiling and nodding, “excellent, thank you, you two.”

“I have to go, excuse me.”

He leaves you alone on the stage to race up the stairs to collect his backpack. You’re knocked out of a trance and thrown into deep waters, and Nemuri begins to call the next names.

“Hiroshi, is your partner not here? Oh, and,” she turns back to you, “you can take a seat now.”

You do.

It’s time to settle this, Shigaraki decides. There’s a three-day break coming up, and his mind has been looping back to it every passing class. He couldn’t keep running away from you anymore after you were assigned different partners for the next dance. If he doesn’t act, he’ll completely lose you.

And for the record, Nemuri was a liar. Could she not see the connection between you two? Even he could see it, and he wished he couldn’t.

It felt like you were slipping away, partnered with someone else, and Shigaraki had been conversing with you sparsely. It was torture, Hell on Earth if he had to imagine it. You’re getting lost in the waves, and he’s losing his grip.

Meanwhile, you’ve been getting on top of your classwork and contacting your new dance partner, Eijirou. It doesn’t feel the same of course, not when you can feel Shigaraki’s eyes on you every time you’re in the arms of the redhead.

You don’t expect anything from him anymore; you pretend not to. The ding sounds from your phone, and you just know.

[Shigaraki]: hey

It makes your heart race, and you can feel your pulse thrumming in your neck.

[Her]: Hey

[Shigaraki]: wyd

[Her]: I’m not doing this

[Shigaraki]: come over

[Her]: No

[Shigaraki]: i wanna see you

You want to slap yourself. Tell him there’s no way you can deal with his hot and cold nature. That even if you like him, he’s not good for you. You can’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, won’t.

[Her]: Come to my dorm and walk with me, it’s too dark and cold

[Shigaraki]: omw

Waiting feels painful. You spend a minute making sure you are moisturized and smelling good, and then eventually, he’s at the sliding door of the dorm. You’re wearing a simple long-sleeve, and you’re keen to pick up on the fact that he really brought you a coat.

“Hey,” you smile and eagerly embrace him the tiniest bit.

“Hey, take it. ‘M tired of holding it,” and your hands are brushing when you take the black hoodie to slip over your head.

The walk is quiet, and you can feel anticipation climbing up your spine as the two of you grow closer and closer. The cold is nonexistent, not with the warmth you feel because of the boy beside you.

“Is your roommate home?”

He shakes his head, hand steady as he slips the key into the lock and brings you into his space. The lights flicker on, and you’re smiling at his side of the room. Dark, a bit punk, and he’s totally unashamed of it. He drops the keys in the bowl, turning his head first before fully facing you.

“So–”

You’re rushing to jump into his arms, connecting your lips effortlessly in a kiss that soothes all aches you’d ever had about him. You knew he would catch you, and you fit like the sun and moon. The connection makes you heave into the kisses, leaning into the slickness of saliva coating your lips while he pushes you against the nearest wall. 

It feels like dancing, the way your tongues slide against each other with a fierceness while he shrugs off his jacket. You’re already wet, impossibly wet, and the mewls come out despite you trying to swallow them. The need for him is so strong you’re dropping your legs to move things along.

“You’re so fucking hot,” pressing his forehead against yours, “holy shit.”

“You wanna see more?”

Peeling off the sweatshirt to catch your curves worn under the fitted long-sleeve. His hand circles your lower back, eyes locked onto how your tits nearly spill out of its v-neck. They’re so easy to hold; his hand is already sliding up your side to the underside of your breasts. 

“Can I?”

“Of course,” you whisper while tugging his hand to squeeze your tits, sighing at the contact.

“No bra?”

“What, you, ah! You want it to get in the way?”

“God, no,” His other hand meets your other tit, fully groping you, and his eyes nearly crimson with need.

His hardness is apparent, the bulge nudging against your thigh while his knee applies delicious pressure to your aching clit; you can’t stop your hips from grinding up against his leg.

“Kiss me,” and he’s quick to shut you up, hands raking under your shirt to feel skin on skin.

“Shigaraki!”

He could listen to you say that all day, but he can’t stand how the two of you are still so tightly clothed. Your shirt comes up, and you’re quick to immediately tug it off and grind on his leg again. It’s sticky, hot, and heady as the two of you dry-hump against the only space on the wall. 

“Wait, we should…we should move to the bed,” and he doesn’t seem to hear you with how he lurches forward to lick into your mouth, “Sh-Shigaraki.”

The kisses only stop for a moment, but then he’s pushing away from the wall and guiding you by the hands to the bed. He slips off his sweatpants, leaving his boxers on, and you mirror him. It almost feels too intimate when he stares at you once settled on top of you, and you can’t take it.

His hand circles your nipple slowly, making you arch at the feeling of him toying with your chest, “mm!”

Resting on his left hand, you watch as the bony hand travels downwards, swooping under your tit to glide past your belly button and reach the black band of your panties, “may I?”

You’ve never been so turned on, and you’re sure it’ll be smeared all over your thighs by the end of this tryst. Lifting your hips, he tosses the panties onto the floor, and your face burns with how your wetness immediately soaks his fingers when he runs them through your slit.

“You’re so wet, you’re that needy?”

“I just need you to touch me…!”

He gives a low hum, digits circling your clit so slowly that your legs jump closed, “keep them open.”

You’re getting desperate, eager to feel him slip his fingers inside and crook them up, but he’s so calm and attentive. Taking his time, he looks at every inch of your pussy with fire in his eyes. You’re dripping, and the slick sounds when he just barely slips his middle finger into your hole nearly echo.

Finally, he indulges you by slipping it in deep and rubbing your clit with his thumb. You can hardly breathe, toes curling as you hold his wrist to keep fingering you, “fuck, feels so good!”

He can only chuckle, curling his fingers and hitting that gooey spongy spot that arches your back and leaves muffled cries spilling through your fingers. It feels so good, too good, and you’re soaring as he finally starts to thrust his hand.

“Come on, let me hear what you have to say. Do you like it? Do you want more?”

“I wan, I want…!”

He forces his hand, adjusting to a steady rhythm that you can practically hear yourself getting close from the stimulation of being finger-fucked. Looking down at you, he’s keyed into every movement. Every noise and body twitch. It’s like he’s been possessed to make you cum, and you’re nearly there.

“Gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grappled for your tit like a lifeline, and it was like a show with how he watched you tug at your chest.

It’s so desperate, and it feels perfect to finally be connected and feel the heat of his breath while he makes you cream on his hand. You’re at his mercy, and he knows it, “go on and cum. Wanna fuck you.”

You nearly black out, the tension snapping like a rubber band as you gyrate your hips. It’s debauched, but you hardly care when Shigaraki rubs a tight circle on your clit, “heh.”

“You’re,” you’re still panting, and he grins.

“I’m what?”

He’s shrugging his boxers off while you recover, and your clit throbs once he exposes his cock, lean and long like his fingers. 

“Nothing!”

“Cat got your tongue?”

You circle closer to him, watching eagerly as he slips the condom on with ease. Your mouth’s watering and you want to go down on him badly, but he has other plans. 

“Wanna do doggy?”

“Yeah,” and it’s the hottest sight he’s ever seen when you bend over, exposing your clenching hole waiting to be filled. Your ass is up in the air, and you look perfectly spread out for him. 

The slap on your ass makes you jump, but Shigaraki seems happy with the way he kneads the fat of your ass. His cock bumps into your pussy as he maneuvers himself, and the slickness of it sliding between your folds and bumping your clit makes you shake.

“God, I could fuckin’ tease you forever,” and he grips the base of his cock with a groan, “I don’t know why I waited so long.”

“I know! Why don’t you–”

He slides home, he’s not too girthy, but the length makes your arms shake while supporting your body, “oh god.”

“Yeah, fuckkk, yeah.”

It’s a slow rhythm, clearly reveling in the wet warmth and tightness of your hole; he’s got a death grip on your hip as he shallowly thrusts into you, “amazing pussy.”

You can only moan a “thanks” as he moves a bit more, cockhead dragging against your walls and then filling you back up till you feel like you can’t breathe. The bed creaks, and he starts pounding you so hard it cries. Jolting you forward, you can’t even lean away from how he plows himself into you, balls slapping against your clit, giving you aftershocks.

It’s messy, and he’s barely holding his rhythm because you’re squeezing around him so tight and he feels like he might shoot his load any second. He slows down for a mere second to rub your clit, lean body resting on yours as he moves his hips in tandem with yours.

He’s panting and is too stuck on your eyes rolling back to notice he’s inching closer and closer to his orgasm. The coil is hot in his tummy as he ravages you and makes you take all of him. The connection drives you wild, and soon you’re pushed face-first into the pillows as he fucks you like a fleshlight. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god,” and he fucking whimpers inside of you.

It sends your head spinning as he reaches his peak, a hand slapping your ass as the two of you move together. Your ass smacks against his lower abs, and the slick that coats the top of the hair around his base makes him heave, “I’m gonna cum. Fuck, gonna milk this sweet pussy.”

You barely crane your head to catch a view, and he looks heavenly, and his eyes draw shut. He’s barely even thrusting, just mashing into you deeper and harder. He opens his eyes, and the red in them turns nearly burgundy as he grunts.

“Shiga-Shigaraki…!”

One, two, and then he’s pinning you down with his body weight as his hips jerk up into you. You know he’s wearing a condom, but part of you wants to imagine the heat filling your insides and breeding you. The thought of it makes you squeeze around him, and his fingers leave bruises on tender parts of your flesh.

It takes a minute for your breath to calm. The feeling of satiation with Shigaraki still buried to the hilt in you feels so comforting that you could fall asleep. You’re barely there, thoroughly fucked and floating in space. He has enough strength to interlock your hands on top of you, and the two of you bask in the post-coital glow.

“You gonna get off me any time soon?”

He offers a steady deep breath before replying.

“Nope. It’s my reward for looking after you at that party.”

“Really? You’re still on that?”

Sidelining you again, you remember why he frustrates you so much once again. But it doesn’t hurt this time; it just feels good.

“Go on a date with me.”

“You can’t just change the subject like that!”

“Then go on a date with me, and I won’t have to.”

Your mouth flattens into a straight line, “you’re lame.”

Small kisses dot the curve of your neck as he finally pulls himself out of you. You leave in a flash to use the bathroom and return to the covers being pulled up just for you.

The two of you settle on meeting up next Monday.

[Shigaraki]: See you at the ice skating rink

You never knew Shigaraki would be one to skate between you two? He didn’t, either. He supposed you just bring out that side of him.

The side that likes dancing, ice skating, and you.

[effervescentdragon]

piarles + second chances 🌻

He skips the universes like he used to skip the stones in the river behind his house in France. One by one with no pauses and no thought of slipping and falling into the river and being taken away.

If the universe hasn't washed him away by now, well. It can go fuck itself.

Pierre didn't ask for this. For any of this. He doesn't even really know what's happened. The technical explanation is complicated and long winded, at least when Sebastian gives it, so Pierre doesn't even bother remembering it. It's enough to know that everything went to Hell, and that there was no turning back.

George simplified it for him one night.

"It's like - imagine a tower built out of cards, yeah? So every universe is a card, and those universes touch. Not all of them, not the same ones, but they're all cards from the same deck. And so what happened was that someone pulled one of the bottom cards and..." and here George trailed off, because there was no need for him to go on. It was a pretty clear picture.

This George was pretty, too. The George from his universe was pretty too, but he didn't have the scars on his back that this George did. George never offered an explanation, and Pierre didn't ask.

They almost fucked that night, him and George. They were drinking, and the lights were low, and the world was ending and they kissed, but George's face was smooth and he didn't have dimples, and Pierre couldn't. He just couldn't, and George couldn't either, because the name on his lips when they separated wasn't Pierre.

"We are sending you to Gamma-Delta-Pi," Sebastian says and Pierre chuckles.

"Like American sorority, non?"

George butts in. "Actually, if it's for boys, it's a fraternity. Sorority is for girls."

Sebastian and Pierre roll their eyes simultanously. "Alright, alright, Mister Know-It-All," Sebastian continues. "Pierre, get in, asess the situation, and get out. This one is on the border of the Gamma Quadrant, and we don't want to have any more nasty surprises."

"You mean like the flesh-eating monster world we found last time?" Pierre asks cheerfully. "I would like to avoid that, too. Though the scar makes me very popular with the ladies."

He leers at Seb, who indulges him with a small smile. "Just go, Gasly," he says, and Pierre straps in and checks if he has his knife, and then the lights start flashing and he's gone.

There are no ladies. They all know it, because they are all in the same boat here. They've all lost everything that mattered to them, and are now living outside of time and space, in the liminal spaces between universes, collecting strays.

They're all the only ones who survived the collapses of their worlds. They are all the only ones left.

Pierre keeps his eyes open as he travels through the wormhole. Sebastian was the one who found him, stepping out of a wormhole just like this one as Pierre's world ended. Sebastian was the one who dragged him away from the race track and the body in red racing suit Pierre was clutching, his face a grimace of perfect, horrible understanding. Sebastian was the one who dragged him away as the vebomous clouds overtook the sky, and the last thing Pierre saw of his world was the darkness swallowing Spa-Francorchamps.

It had to be Spa. Of course it had to be Spa.

George was already there when Pierre arrived, as were some of the others. They were all different, much different than Pierre remembered them to be. None of them, bar Sebastian, were racing drivers in their original universes. Pierre knows that's what hurts him the most.

No. He shakes his head. That's a lie, but don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't. Don't you dare.

The wormhole tightens, and stretches, and spits him out. He's distracted enough nkt to land on his feet, and falls down on his knees.

When he opens his eyes, he's in Suzuka.

He almost throws up. There's cars piled up against each other right in front of him, a chain crash like the one he barely avoided in another life. There's a McLaren, and a Mercedes, and a Red Bull, and a Ferrari at the end of the row.

Pierre doesn't think. He runs.

There's smoke coming out of the cars and the sky above it too dark even for a monsoon season and Pierre can't see a thing properly, but he doesn't care.

"Not again," he mutters as he tears at the halo, determined to get the unmoving body from the cockpit. "Not again, please God, not again, not again, not -"

"Pear?" Charles' voice is weak. He coughs, and it's the most beautiful sound Pierre has heard in a long time. "How - am I dead?"

Pierre sobs a laugh and undoes Charles' belt. "No, calamar, you're okay. You're going to be okay."

Pierre can't see Charles properly under the helmet, but he knows his best friend. "But - I must be dead," Charles says, and there's fear and confusion and profound sadness in his voice. He lifts his arms nonetheless and lets Pierre pull him out.

"Why," Pierre asks distractedly, trying to ascertain Charles' state and keep an eye on the rapidly approaching darkness. "Why do you think that?"

Charles' leg is broken, Pierre thinks, because he yelps in pain when he tries to step on it. Pierre grabs him around the waist and throws Charles' arm around his shoulders, holding him up. He glances at the sky. The darkness is eating the grandstands, and they have to go.

"Because," Charles starts to say, and then gets frustrated and starts fiddling with his helmet. Pierre should drag him away, but he has to - h3 has to see. Charles takes the helmet off, pulling the balaclava with it, and when he turns to Pierre, his heart almost stops. It's him. It's really him.

Charles' hazy eyes are flitting all over Pierre's face, and there's sweat on his face, and he looks awful, and he looks more beautiful than Pierre remembers him being.

"Because," he says, and his voice is shaking, "you died in Spa."

Pierre chokes back a sob. He raises his hand and puts his palm on Charles' cheek, presses his thumb where he knows Charles' dimple to be.

"No," he whispers as the sky above them darkens. "No, mon amour."

A tear falls out of the corner of Charles' eye, and Pierre wipes it away.

"You did," he says, and holds Charles close, and activates the transporter.

[rhetoricandlogic]

REVIEW: Elder Race by Adrian Tchaikovsky

I know Adrian Tchaikovsky best from works like Children of Time, Children of Ruin and Dogs of War where he uses other creatures, often affected by humanity’s meddling to talk about very relatable human issues, often dealing with the issue of communicating across species boundaries. Elder Race deals with similar core themes, but all of the protagonists are human. Sort of.

Lynesse Fourth Daughter is an impetuous spare heir in a devolved human society that is at a roughly high medieval state of development (or rather, regression) who seeks the assistance of Nyrgoth, the Elder sorcerer (Elder Race, get it?) to aid against a demon that is afflicting nearby lands. The problem is that Nyrgoth isn’t really a sorcerer but a low level anthropologist who’s notionally supposed to be tracking the development of a colony on behalf of the successors to the more developed human civilisation that originally set them there.

Yes, this is very much nailing the ‘any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic’ trope right on the head, but it does it very well.

Things are complicated by the facts of exactly why Nyrgoth is alone in his tower and has a reputation for coming to these people’s aid in former generations and the story really turns on the difficult relationship between Lynesse and Nyrgoth and their vastly different outlooks on the world.

Elder Race is not a long book, definitely in novella territory but it packs a lot of big ideas and sharp characterisation into the low word count. Tchaikovsky uses the contrast between the core characters as a way to show how people can be very different but also ultimately very much alike.

You have Lynesse being impetuous and determined while Nyr is restrained, overly cerebral and battles depression. Lynesse sees Nyr’s capabilities as magical while he’s all too aware of his limitations and the science at play. At the same time, for wildly different reasons both fear that they are failures and want to prove themselves, to find connection to a kindred spirit or find meaning in their lives.

The difficulties of communication are fun as well, as Nyr’s imperfect translations of Lynesse’s lingual drift leads to him trying to explain science to her but the meanings sound like magical terms, so he ends up saying “I’m not a sorcerer, I’m a magician” and similar to great mutual frustration.

Throw in the way that Nyr often misreads things like how clothing styles are supposed to work or the nuances of local power structures or manners and theres a neat comment on how being a more advanced, supposedly Elder Race and having a near omnipotent viewpoint isn’t as great when you lack context.

Ultimately, the demonic antagonist ends up being almost beyond Nyrgoth’s science anyway, which implies that there’s more going on in this universe than he’d previously been aware of and maybe they have made contact with a genuinely Elder Race and not just a coloniser with some cool toys. The shared existential dread of a genuine Outside Context Moment is a nice subversion of the tone of the story up to that point.

I also detected a fun pun where Lynesse refers to the adversary as a demon, yet how it works seems to be analogous to what a daemon in computer terminology does, except operating on a biological level.

All in all Elder Race is a really fun novella, displaying Tchaikovsky’s trademark sharp prose and big ideas conveyed in interesting ways. It feels like a nice thought experiment that worked out into a compelling story and I’d recommend this to existing Tchaikovsky fans, plus anyone who likes Iain M. Banks, Ann Leckie or Gareth L. Powell.

[lesfir]

Astarion's ambitions and desires. Power, Evil and Good

Astarion discuss a possibility of controlling the tadpole. Astarion_InParty2_Nested_ControllingTadpole

Tiny scene, but interesting. ⟡Devnote⟡

I opened the dialog if Tav playing as a "good", but if Tav is chaotic, discards to lines that go in the "evil" branch. I am chaotic Tav. If playing as Dark Urge the "goodness" branch is unavailable even if the grove saved. After killing the bard, for sure. I almost restrained myself from posting the entire script of that scene here. Just a script. At the end a bit of my personal thoughts and preferences. though poor English :| The order of the line has been followed.

Astarion: You might be a little naive in the ways of the world, but I see promise in you. Ambition.

Astarion: So I was thinking, what would be the right thing to do when we get to Moonrise Towers? When we come face-to-face with whoever is controlling the parasites in our heads. Player: Seize control of the cult ourselves? Astarion: Yes, exactly! NodeContext: Surprised and hyped that the player got it in one. He didn't think you'd be on board with the idea.

Player: Evil power. I won't do it. Astarion: Power is just a tool, it's people that are good or evil. Astarion: And even they can be a little bit... CinematicNodeContext: Can't quite find the words to convey "even evil people can be a little bit good" so just mimes weighing scales with his hands. NodeContext: And even good or evil people can be a little bit complicated.

Astarion: I'm just saying there's an opportunity here. If we can control the tadpoles, we can keep ourselves safe and liberate the world from this evil. NodeContext: pause be 'liberate' as he considers what would sound good to a goody-two-shoes player. Astarion was thinking less liberate, more dominate.

1Player: No. Absolutely not. Astarion: So much for thinking you had ambition. 2Player: Or we could just enjoy having all that power.

\Jump in the thread where Tav would kill the Tieflings and\or Dark urge, who interested in safe and a little of world domination. As in the screen, In the "good" branch, Astarion doesn't mention his plan, but in the "evil" branch, he says it explicitly.

Astarion: I knew I was right about you. It's so good to find a kindred spirit. Astarion: Of course, this all assumes we live long enough to find this 'Moonrise'. But I'm feeling optimistic. END

*** Another branchs as a bonus. "Good hero" branch

Player: To destroy the cult and end its evil forever. Astarion: Gods... No, try to think outside the box. Just a little.

NodeContext: With a sigh, maybe pinching the bridge of his nose because the player is so fucking dense. But Astarion is trying to get the player on board with stealing a whole lot of power, so he has to lead them down the path and can't just call them an idiot.

"Astarion's plan"

Player: And how would we do that, exactly? Astarion: I mean - I assume there's some device controlling these things, so we find that, murder some people, and... NodeContext: Trying to sound like he knows what he's talking about, though he doesn't actually have a plan beyond "stealing power good" Astarion: Look, I'm not a 'details' person, all right? But turning up and causing chaos has worked for us so far. NodeContext: giving up trying to sound authoratitive

He has two reactions to rejection.

~"Goody-two-shoes" branch

Player: No. Absolutely not. Astarion: So much for thinking you had ambition. ~Not that Goody branch

Player: I'm getting this thing out of my head. End of story. or Player: I still want to get rid of the parasite. Astarion: A pity, I thought you had more ambition than that. Astarion: Still, we're not there yet. Maybe you'll see the light yet.

\In the "good" branch, he decides Tav has no ambition when Tav rejects his idea. In the "evil" branch, he thought Tav had more ambition and hopes for "light" in thought. Such a reaction cannot be obtained in the "good" branch. ***

My thoughts.

Ambition — I really love that word.

I love how the proud Prince, wants to take power and dominate the world. The plan: find, murder and... get what I want. He's smart, but his wild-fireworks nature is something. And it just melts me.

I love this conversation about good and evil. The theme of scales.

CinematicNodeContext: Can't quite find the words to convey "even evil people can be a little bit good" so just mimes weighing scales with his hands. NodeContext: And even good or evil people can be a little bit complicated.

\I love that devnote so much. I am so greedy for this topic.

NodeContext: pause be 'liberate' as he considers what would sound good to a goody-two-shoes player. Astarion was thinking less liberate, more dominate. \AUGH

I like to play chaotic Tav so Astarion can tempt me better to own the world and generally not understand what's hells in my Tav-head sometimes. (งᐖ)ว \But I've already been tempted into everything on the beach, and he doesn't know that :D\ I'm looking forward to 2055 when we can talk to characters like they're real. >:D I'll make cute Chaos.

[paint-the-walls-white]

Gasoline

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x OC! Charlotte "Charles" Weber

Warnings: Violence, Drugs, Sexual Themes, R18

Part 1

Charlotte Weber, heir to the Weber Cartel in Frankfurt, Germany. She had never asked to participate, in fact she despised the idea of her families wealth coming from such a disgraceful business, but she had no choice.

As a child, she had been very extroverted and made many friends, which eventually wanted to go to her house. Her mother, Anneliese Weber, had allowed it but her father, Henry Weber, was completely against it.

He never really showed Charlie affection, in fact he wanted a son, but after complications with her birth, Anneliese was unable to have any more children. Hence why Henry referred to Charlotte as "Charles."

On the day her friends came over for a sleep over they had played the entire day. They spent their time running around outside, swimming in the pool, painting each others nails; all things little girls did. But when everyone was asleep, one of her friends had gotten up to get water, unaware of what was happening downstairs.

There was Henry, Seven heavily armed men, and a woman tied to a chair. Henry had beaten the poor lady black and blue, demanding information, but she refused to reveal anything. That's when she was shot in the head. Charlies friend screamed, alerting the men of her presence.

Let's just say none of her friends or their families were heard from again.

Charlies father had been so disappointed in her for causing the mess that he had almost disowned her then and there, which would have lead to her death. Instead she begged, pleading for his forgiveness. Charlie told him that she would do anything to have him forgive her, which is exactly when she was turned into a gopher.

After years of working off her debt and earning her fathers forgiveness, he started paying her an insignificant wage; It was pennies compared to what anyone else got. She barely made 5 Euros an hour. Charlotte wanted to get a regular job, but her father held her mistake over her head, intent on keeping her in his iron clad grasp.

By the time she was twenty two, Charlotte was on her way to saving up to run away. Only a few more deliveries and she would be free to flee to another country. But everything went south on Valentines Day.

While in the process of counting the money, the door was beat down. Several armed men swarmed the warehouse. It was the Special Air Services, The SAS.

The horror that raked through her system had Charlie frozen. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not until she was gone. No no no no.

She pulled her balaclava over her face and pulled on her hoodie on, attempting to run for the emergency exit. She had just gotten out the door when she was faced with several semi-automatic rifles pointed at her.

Charlotte immediately threw her hands up. Her breath was shaky, horrified tears threatened to spill. She was dropped to her knees with a forceful kick and cuffed. She looked up and locked eyes with a Skull mask.

It was Ghost. It had to be. She heard the stories, everyone had. If you saw him, you were dead.

"We Got' him Boys. Get Charles in the Humvee, Soap can handle the rest of these fuckers. He's Mine."

Charlotte was hauled to her feet. Charles? That's what her dad called her. They thought that was her name? She wasn't a boy!

She was thrown into the truck, landing flat on her ribs. The air was knocked from her lungs. She could barely breath with the mask on.

Ghost scoffed, pulling her to her feet and ripping her hoodie and mask off. His eyes widened for a quick second before narrowing into a murderous glare.

"Who t'fuck are you? Where the fuck is Charles?" He tightly grabbed her by the hair and forced her to lock eyes with him.

"I-I am! I'm Charles! Charlotte, my name is Charlotte-! Ow- Let go!"

She pulled from his grasp as he stood, towering above her. He punched the wall of the truck twice, signaling for the driver to get moving. Charlotte just sat there, head pressed against the wall of the truck as they drove. She was so tired. Maybe this would be her ticket out.

"When we get back to base, you better answer all our fuckin' questions. Don' give us any bullshit answers neither."

Charlotte just tiredly nodded, refusing to meet his gaze. Ghost sat across from her, assault rifle at the ready. She just wanted to sleep. She closed her eyes for a few hours, half aware of her surroundings. Charlotte was never a heavy sleeper, but she was really tired. She had been working overtime to try and escape, but it looks like it was all for nothing.

Before she knew what was happening, Charlotte woke up in a small room with beige walls and a concrete floor, cuffed to a metal table bolted to the ground. She wasn't going anywhere, even if she wanted to.

As she tried to focus her vision, blinking the sleep from her eyes, she watched three men walk into the room, two of them standing behind her and the other sitting across from her with several manilla folders. She recognized one of the men behind her as Ghost, but the other two she only identified by their nametags: MacTavish and Price.

"What.. Where am I..?" Price placed a glass of water in front of her and linked his finger together.

"Morning Weber. We have a few questions we need you to answer."

"I.. Ok.. What do you want..?"

He slid a picture across the table. It was her father shaking hands with another man, several armed men she recognized from the cartel surrounding them.

"We need to know where your father is and what kind of deal he made with this man."

"I-I'm sorry but I have no idea, I'm not involved in his business affairs."

"I hate to break it to you love, but that's bullshit. We know you have been making deliveries for him for years." Price rubbed at the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Charlotte swore up and down that she had no idea who the man was or what kind of deal they made. She informed them that she was merely a gopher.

"That's all I've ever been." She wiped away the frustrated tears with her sleeve, meeting her hand halfway to the table because of the restriction around her wrists.

Ghost scoffed, "Cut the act. This ain't our first rodeo."

He placed the barrel of his gun to her head, "Better start fucking talking." Fear ran down her spine as she heard the click of the safety being turned off.

"I swear! I don't know! Please, you have to believe me!"

She frantically locked eyes with Price. He sighed and made a motion at Ghost, who turned his gun around and punched her in the head with the butt of the gun, knocking her unconscious.

"Did we really have to knock her unconscious? The Lass seemed pretty adamant.." Soap hauled Charlotte over his shoulder and carried her down the hall.

"She didn't want to talk, this is the consequence. We'll get our answers one way or another."

Ghost had taken his job very seriously. If he showed even the slightest bit of remorse or hesitance, he wouldn't be an effective soldier and he wouldn't be a Lieutenant.

They needed to know why the Weber family had made a deal with the Volkov's. If they were expanding their territory to Russia as they had suspected, they needed to stop them ASAP.

They had migrated to another room that was obviously used for torture. It was more for show than anything, most of the time when people saw the room they spilled everything, but those who didn't...

Let's just say the room was used for it's intended purpose.

Charlotte was strapped to the chair in center of the room. They brought a stick of smelling salts to her nose, causing her to jerk violently awake.

A knife was pressed to her throat. Ghost growled in her ear, "Tell us what you know. Everything."

"I-I don't know anything! I swear, please-" The blade of the knife dug into her skin, small beads of blood collecting on the knife. Tears welled in her eyes as she grit her teeth.

"I don't know."

Ghost tsked at her, pulling away. He stepped out for a moment and entered the room with a dog on a chain.

"This hear is Paisley. If you don't start talking, I will give her a command and she. Will not. Stop. Do I make myself clear?"

The dog started barking aggressively. Regardless of how scared she was, Charlotte took a deep breath and locked eyes with him. The determined look in her eye wavered for a second, but she maintained her composure.

"I really don't know who that man is or what deal my father made. I know that my father runs a cartel, I know that we supply copious amounts of cocaine, and I know he wishes he had a son."

Her breath turned shaky as she swallowed the hard lump in her throat, trying to keep the tears at bay, "I also know that he doesn't give a shit about what happens to me. He doesn't tell me about any business transactions, at least not the big ones. I'm just a gopher.. Nothing more than a mule.."

Charlotte sobbed, she hoped that they believed her, but expected them to let the dog loose anyways.

"I've always wanted his approval, but I've known for a long time I was never going to get it. I've been trying to get out of this family for four years, but I can't...Not yet.."

Ghost barked a command and the dog stopped barking, sitting quietly. He knelt in front of her, lifting her face forcefully to meet his. His gaze pierced through her. She would have been terrified if she wasn't so tired.

"Lying Bitch." He threw her head away from him and her expression soured. She spit in his face and he back handed her.

The defiant look in her eye didn't break, even as the taste of copper flooded her mouth. She simply spit out the blood onto his shoe and averted her gaze, refusing to talk any further.

Ghost wanted to kill her for that small act alone, but he didn't. He knew she had information. She had to have something.

Charlotte knew who the man was, of course she did. She had seen him talking to her father on many occasions as a child. She never knew what they were talking about, but she could infer that it was a deal to expand the Weber territory into Russia where the Volkov's would get a cut of whatever deals were made there. But she also knew if she ratted them out, she would be as good as dead and she would never have a chance of living peacefully.

So even when they had her strung up by her arms, barely touching the floor on her toes as the cuffs bit into her wrists and they punched her in the stomach, she didn't talk.

Even when she was kept awake for hours, she didn't talk. Not even for a glass of water or a bite of food. She couldn't, not with the fear of what would happen to her out there if she did.

Every time they punched her, she would kick at them, getting one good one in before her legs were restrained too. At this point it became a waiting game. She watched, learning every move and every schedule so she could eventually make her escape.

After what felt like a month, she finally took her chance, late in the night. She hoisted herself up so she could plant her legs on a near by shelf, giving her enough leverage to pull a bobby pin from her hair where she carefully picked at the lock of her cuffs with the pin in her teeth, easing onto her feet. Finally free from the cuffs she grabbed the shelf off the wall and waited behind the door. They wouldn't know she was missing until they entered the room which is when she would strike.

The second Ghost walked in, the blunt force of a two by four slammed into the back of his head, knocking him to the ground. He groaned in pain, but fell on unconscious. It was Tuesday, he would be the only one coming in the morning, so she had time to strap him to the chair and make a break for it.

She had been so careful, had gotten so close. Until she ran into Soap.

"What the- How did you escape Lass!" He called into the radio for Ghost but he didn't answer so she ran. Charlotte ran to the only place she knew a weapon would be available; the room she just left Ghost in.

When she entered she slammed the door behind her. She held the door, catching her breath before a bicep wrapped around her neck.

"Ya got the drop on me, but you fucked up real bad Love." He squeezed his arm around him, making her claw at his arm.

"I'm not your Love, and I'm not fucking telling you anything."

Soap burst through the door out of breath, "She's a slippery one ain't she?"

"Why are you bein' so fuckin' difficult? We can keep you safe from this shit if you tell us what you know."

She fell limply in his arms, tired of running, tired of fighting. She wanted to keep her family safe, but she was tired. They never returned the favor and they never would anyways.

Charlotte nodded, "Ok.. I'll talk.."

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - Koffi/Wainwright/Mae (2)

After Susan had retired to the lab, Gobias used the time to talk to Boyd. "Honestly, how are you?"/ "fine, how else am I supposed to be?"/ "You know exactly why I'm asking you. ". Boyd closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "hh… She just won't stop talking about Blair all the time"/ "but she's your daughter…"/ "Was, or do you see her around here somewhere?".

"I know it's not easy to listen to her all the time, …"/ "Last night,…. I'd been lying on my side for a long time and she… started with the wildest theories again. Gobis, everything was on fire here, there were more than 30 of these things, some with a diameter of 70, 80 meters or more…they hardly all had a chance."

"I know, we all hasn't really been much time to think about what to do."/ "Yes… Does she think I'm not suffering? You… You have no idea how much I miss my daughter, Gobias. Her smile… Her blonde hair and… Her little nose when she wrinkled when she was angry…h-hh"/"stop putting up with everything from your wife all the time".

In fact, Boyd had remained strong the whole time, if only because of his wife. But instead of grieving, Susan kept being drawn outside to look for Blair. People everywhere had banded together for a search, but all they found were the almost unrecognizable burnt remains of the others. "I really can't take any more…"/ "Come on."

It had been a purely professional relationship between Gobias and Boyd, but over time and even after this catastrophe happened, they grew closer and closer as friends. "h-h, don't say anything to my wife… I…"/ "definitely not, let it out, it's freeing, at least a little…"…

While the men are among themselves, Zelda enjoys the peace and quiet she now has to herself. She was often at loggerheads with her sister, and for good reason. All too often she saw Zelda making eyes at her husband. And he didn't seem to mind at all. Because the marriage between him and Liane is also complicated from time to time.

While everyone else is more or less busy, Gerhard sneaks around the property. But his presence does not go unnoticed.

"What are you doing here, Landgraab?". Gerhard stopped and didn't miss the opportunity to put on a somewhat spiteful grin. "Why such an aggressive greeting, Koffi? I just wanted to know if everything is all right with you." Gobia's thoughts were on a rollercoaster. ("I can really do without his hypocritical behavior, man")

"So you've managed to tap into one of the power lines here, congratulations". Gobias' eyes narrowed. "Very funny, if we hadn't found some rubber gloves we would have been electrocuted. The insulation is completely worn out. Have you finally managed to make contact with the outside world?"/ …

"Unfortunately, no, not yet. ". Gobia's mood became increasingly negative. "Listen, it can't be that difficult to get a signal with such a simple receiver. One of the radio towers is still working. If at least the internet was still working, we could have gotten more help earlier"…

"I can well understand their displeasure, it's no different for us and we're already trying everything we can to make things better for the inhabitants." Gobias folded his arms for a moment. "Oh, really? We don't notice much of that. What are they doing over there all the time?"/"We're trying to survive just like everyone else…".

"Don't tell me such nonsense. There's light in your whole house and the water runs without any problems, I assume. The damaged pipes here are barely usable"/ "we're making an effort, o.k.? At least you have electricity now and can play around with your appliances…"/ "I'm about to freak out, get out of here, NOW".

"What's going on out there?". Zelda was just coming down the stairs when she heard the loud voices of the men. "No, I've heard enough, just go!…". Gobias came back into the house angrily, holding his hands to his head. "Are you all right?"/ "No… These egotists just seem to ignore everything. Everyone here takes care of each other, even those they've never sat at a table with before. We should think of something…"/ "Well, maybe… I have an idea"/ "and what is it?"

"We will complain. A crowd of people outside the villa. They finally have to listen to us, Gobias. So far, we've only ever had strange individual conversations, everyone has gone and voiced their problems. But if we all do it together…"/ "Sure. Maybe with torches and pitchforks…?".

"so that would be a much better idea, of course, nhnhn, let's burn your house down"/ "then we'd be no better than them. But the thing with the crowds… Maybe we should talk about that, yeah"/ "with everyone, without them noticing anything over there". He had to smile, he had never seen his new girlfriend so enthusiastic.

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

End of part 2 , Part 3 will follow soon

@greenplumbboblover 😃

Poses with Boyd & Gobias by @poses-by-bee 🥰

[bambsik]

Time for Helen Amell's dynamics with her team! Of course I could add everywhere: It was difficult at first and it's complicated, so I'm writing it here to not repeat myself

Morrigan: I wrote a separate post about them here because they're awesome. So, long story short, they're best friends now and would die for each other. I can only add that in my canon they both learned spirit healing magic from Wynne, because they both have to admit now that these stupid people they travel and fight with are important and they need to take care of their stupid health (and also each other). So they are both growing as a person. 

Leliana: That’s actually interesting because when I created Helen, I thought she was gonna romance Leliana. But she looked at her and simply said: No. Not the crazy chantry lady. Plz no. Helen likes her, but can’t take her seriously because of the whole Maker thing. She sees that Leliana would want to get closer, but that just won’t work. They have too different worldviews.

Dog: Spider is of course best friend of Helen’s :) She loves him from the first sight and is amazed that he chose her. From having nothing in the Circle Tower to have A DOG FRIEND? The best feeling ever.

Zevran: When she saw Zevran lying on the ground and begging her to take him into her crew, she just thought: yeah, he matches this band of idiots. And she was right. After the first untrust was overcome, she discovered that she really likes listening to his stories. That she likes the way he talks, even if she’s not really comfortable with the flirting part. But she sees his approach to people as some kind of defense mechanism. So she’s not taking it seriously. They’re definitely friends, sometimes it gets very cringy or awkward, but they’re friends.

Wynne: Helen and Wynne have probably the worst relationship of all. Like, it’s not bad, but it’s very one-sided, because Wynne would like to be friends and all, but Helen sees her only as some old Circle mage, who has problems with some spirit and her health. Helen wanted her to leave even, when she and Morrigan learned the spirit healing magic, but Wynne pressed to stay. So she is here, but she is kinda and outsider. At least to Helen.

Sten: This is probably the most surprising to Helen, I swear. She opened the cage mostly because of Morrigan’s suggestion (also, having some big ass warrior in the party while fighting darkspawn could be quite useful, no?), and this grim qunari guy was the first to become her friend. Like??? The more she was mean to him, the more he seemed to like her. Of course she found a way to piss him off by asking too many questions, but still. She doesn’t understand what’s going on in terms of their friendship, but she’s kinda grateful for it. It’s interesting, for sure. 

Shale: Golem friend! Helen treats Shale with sympathy. Can’t say they’re besties, but definitely like each other's company. They find each other very interesting. 

Oghren: As I mentioned before, Helen learns a lot from Oghren, mostly in terms of human relations and being carefree. The way he has this easy approach to almost everything… Total opposite of Helen. They don’t agree on everything, but definitely like each other. They do these drinking nights when they can, there's a lot of talking, singing, making stupid jokes. Little sunshine in the middle of the Plague. Also, Oghren helped Helen to develop that romantic side of her, by being definitely not romantic at all. 

Alistair: I put him last because this is the most interesting to me. I didn’t expect ANYTHING that happened in this relationship. 

So, he didn’t make a bad first impression, but connection to templars gave him minus points at the beginning. They fought together and there was a distance, but it wasn’t bad, but then he just dumped all the responsibility on her. Like, she was lost, first time this far after they took her to Circle, not to mention this Grey Warden chaos and everything. And then he questioned her decisions, he was furious even! So there was lots of arguing, crying and things like that.

But slowly, as the time passed, they both saw a different side of each other. The crucial points to their relationship was the Fade, where Helen saw Alistair was her friend in his vision, and then turning back to Ostagar. 

She definitely started seeing him as someone different. More vulnerable and someone not so religious as she first thought. Someone who just wanted to have a family, who craved having someone close to him, who lost his father figure and a friend. Someone with a hard past, just like hers. And later, when Oghren joined, she saw that innocent side of Alistair. And she liked it. 

Slowly, their mocking each other became awkward flirting. 

So, when Plague almost reached Denerim and there was Landsmeet coming, she said: I don’t care anymore. And kissed this asshole. And realized that he’s an idiot, but her idiot. 

[arizonaconservativegal]

It's almost as if no political movement has goals anymore, rendering them completely pointless. The left and the right are closer than you think. In fact, they are deliberately working together to create a culture war to keep us distracted. That is why neither of them will ever be successful and why it's best if people stop playing this pointless game.

I hear this a lot from people who mostly just want to justify their own apathy. I gotta push back.

Have both parties failed to do anything meaningful while one or the other of them have full control of a state or federal government? You betcha. Have they also completely failed to work across the aisle when control is divided? Damn straight. But the reason isn't that they're colluding to make things worse or keep us distracted, as you say. The reason is real simple: they just don't want to do the work.

Not because then they'd lose a critical campaign talking point and not because they have lobbyists/donors in their ear telling them not to and not because they actually think it's cool that we have all these problems. They don't want to do it because it's a lot harder to actually fix shit than you think it is.

It's a little bit like cleaning out a hoarder's house. The mess is so overwhelming that you don't even know where to start with it. Yeah, the answer is to get rid of the junk but everything looks like junk when you have a mess this big and some of it is probably not stuff you want to throw away, like the resident's family photo albums or their favorite winter coat. You have to go through it all and figure out what's worth keeping and what's not but there's so. much. stuff.

So you decide that you are going to start by just throwing away all the newspapers that have accumulated over the last 60 years because how could anyone possibly need these? But then you realize that there are newspapers in every room of the house. There are newspapers under the bed. There are newspapers in the attic. There's a fucking newspaper in the refrigerator. Every time you think you've gotten them all, you turn around and see another. You could do this for a month and never finish clearing out just the newspapers, let alone anything else.

So you say forget the newspapers. Let's just work on one room at a time. The living room seems like a good place to start. There are stacks and stacks of junk in there that you can just go through one by one. Except that when you start doing that, you realize that half the house is a fucking jenga tower and if you touch anything this stack, it's going to topple three other 10 foot stacks of stuff and quite possibly crush you underneath it.

Eventually you just get frustrated because you've been working for a week and made no discernible progress. You've thrown out a metric fuckton of junk but there was so much of it to begin with that no one can tell anything is different at all. Meanwhile, the resident of the house has been screaming and crying the entire time because they don't want you to throw away that and no, no please don't get rid of this. You're exhausted and stressed out and then on day 8 the resident gleefully announces they bought more stuff!

At a certain point, you decide it's easier to just live with the mess and one day maybe someone will burn the house down for you and you can just collect the insurance money and start over.

So yeah, sure we can look at an issue from the outside - say deficit spending - and know that the answer is to spend less money. Duh. But when you start to actually look at the federal budget, it's massive and complicated and it's all patchwork and cobbled together haphazardly so every piece of it is interconnected and you can't do anything about this program until you get rid of that program and these programs should probably just be combined but they're in two different branches of government so where are you going to put the new one? And no one really wants to be the guy who tells an entire office full of decent people that they're getting laid off because their program is a waste of time and even if you did want to do that, they're going to pitch a fit and slam you in the press who will obviously take their side and then their union is going to campaign against you and maybe cutting that program just isn't worth the effort. And this all assumes too that the people we're electing even know how to read the budget, which they do not.

Is anyone ever going to fix this whole mess? Probably not. But the people we elect are the ones who decide if we keep making the problem worse or if we put the brakes on. And once in a while you even get a candidate who's willing to knock over the jenga tower in the living room so they can at least get one part of the house back to a functional state.

[cannoli-reader]

I would not call this solidarity between Mat and Egwene, or put her telling him about the doorway ter'angreal on a par with this gesture. This is pure, Mat-is-there-for-his-friends and Two-Rivers-folk-born-in-the-70s-stick-together. This is consistent with Mat, Nynaeve, Rand and Perrin, their attachment to each other and their homeland, and they always take the side of each other against outsiders or love interests (slight exception with Nynaeve sort-of siding with Elayne over Mat for a bit, but they've built up a really tight relationship and Been Through Shit Together and she & Mat are the least close of any of the EF5; frankly, Elayne's friendships are far more strongly developed than most of the romances in the series).

It's why, despite the Aes Sedai issues, the Wondergirls give Mat the writ from the Amyrlin to get him out of the Tower, and why they were ready to defy the Tower to Heal him if necessary, and why they (or Nynaeve, at least) left with Liandrin. Like, she explicitly says that to Min & Elayne "we are the boys' kith", in other words, "we have to go, you don't."

But that's never been really a thing for Egwene. For example, she very much prefers Elayne's company & good opinion to Nynaeve's on their travels together, and is annoyed when Elayne takes her part, even when, upon reflection, Egwene realizes they are right. At almost every place they go, she immerses herself with the female leadership, usually at the expense of her Two Rivers male companions. We see this among the Tinkers, in Fal Dara, and among the Aiel. It gets to the point where Rand & Mat actually mention it, with Rand saying "I am no longer certain how much of what I say to her, I am telling the Wise Ones or Moiraine." Mat agrees (in the context of the fact that if he wants to get away without interference from Moiraine, he can't trust Egwene to keep his confidence). And we can't say they are wrong, because we saw on the journey from Rhuidean, Egwene actually questioned why Moiraine was not sharing the take from her spying on Rand with the Wise Ones. Egwene needs three days of thought to agree to help Rand fight the Shaido, despite having followed the trail of atrocities left in their wake for several weeks. Later, Rand asks Nynaeve for help cleansing saidin, and she needs no more than moments to decide that she's going to help. Absolutely every pro-Rand faction in Cairhien, when the issues of his disappearance reach critical mass, reacts by putting their trust in Perrin. Berelain goes to him despite her close working relationship with Rhuarc. Dobraine goes to him despite his respect for the competence of the former two. Amys tells Rhuarc he can share Aiel dirty laundry with Rand's near-brother. It's blatantly obvious to all these insightful people that if there is anyone we can trust when Rand needs help, it's this other Two Rivers guy.

Where Rand withholds any knowledge he has about the source of Mat's military knowledge from Davram Bashere, whom he does trust a great deal, and who is basically having to place blind trust in Mat's judgment and ability to carry out his part of their plan, Egwene cheerfully volunteers to Sheriam, one of the primary political adversaries against whom she is scheming, the issues complicating Mat's and Nynaeve's personal relationship. Even regarding the love interests who seem to be the exception to Two Rivers solidarity, Rand seems to tacitly approve of Faile looking to protect Perrin from danger by association with Rand, even if it means she's not an ally he can count on, but Egwene expects Elayne to report on Rand to her.

Egwene's willingness to help her male companions seems reliant on a perception of power and superiority over them. Her efforts to help Rand hide in Fal Dara are incredibly stupid. She proposes to hide him in a dungeon and in the women's quarters, where he is not supposed to be, and the Aes Sedai are, where they can move freely and have their authority unquestioned, and have the greatest sympathy and support among the inhabitants. As a great US Senator said of the Secretary of State who saw the Iron Curtain erected and China fall to Mao, "if he were merely stupid, the law of averages means some of his decisions would work in our favor." Egwene is not that kind of dumb. Her instincts for hiding Rand are in places where she feels she has the upper hand or is more familiar than he, in the women's quarters and in the dungeons where she has been visiting Fain. When she thinks Rand was just another doomed man who could channel, she hugs him and says she doesn't care. When she discovers he is the Dragon Reborn and has leveled up well beyond her, but for reasons of destiny, might be expected to evade the homicidal insanity that was his previously assumed fate, she is warning off a mutual friend she sees loves him, because he isn't safe. The very next on-page conversation they have, she breaks up with him.

Likewise with Mat. The favor of telling him about the Aelfinn doorway, while not insubstantial (IMO, it's the reason for the difference Birgitte detects in his attitude toward her and the other two Wondergirls, which she later ascertains is due to the issues about the Stone rescue; as with the Ebou Dar trip, Egwene was just as involved as they. I guess Mat decided her help with the Aelfinn balanced the scales), is another instance of Egwene getting to bestow her superior knowledge on him and tell him what to do (ask Moiraine if he is allowed to use it) as well. It's also why a channeling lesson is the excuse she comes up with to get Elayne in a room with Rand. Egwene's moment of solidarity requires nothing from her, certainly not a public gesture of deference which entails a compromise of her political beliefs, as Mat kneeling to her in Salidar is. All she has to do is roll with the thrill of being treated as a person of knowledge and judgement, whose advice is being sought out by a peer.

Meanwhile, in Salidar, Mat kneels to Egwene, specifically because of his empathy for her position and their connection. He gets nothing from it, and has to humble himself in front the group of people he mistrusts and dislikes more than any other - Aes Sedai, and ones he sees as particularly risible for their rebellion. And it's hardly a moment of solidarity, when you consider that Egwene is actively plotting against him in this moment, manipulating him through his adherence to his promise to another Two Rivers man, in order to remove him from the scene, so she can take advantage of his willingness to help her, by using the Band as a stalking horse. And all of this in lieu of actually trusting Mat by explaining the mission and the stakes.

Later, we will see Mat confront Aes Sedai who badmouth Nynaeve and Elayne, even though he agrees in principle about Nynaeve and doesn't like Elayne. Doesn't matter, you don't get to talk shit about even his least favorite Two Rivers person even if it means he has to stick up for Elayne in the bargain. And if Elayne was not involved, allowing him to use collective pronouns, he'd never have cracked his teeth to Birgitte about why he is annoyed at Nynaeve. As it was, it took a bit of hero-worship and a lot of alcohol to get him to spill, plus her establishing a level of trust via secrets they would keep for each other. Nynaeve reciprocates by apparently confronting Tylin on his behalf and needing multiple assertions of the hopelessness of a rescue to be convinced to flee the Seanchan without ensuring his safety first. All of this is just standard Two Rivers loyalty in action. Egwene is the exception, not the exemplar.

“Head held high, she looked straight ahead, that striped stole hanging about her neck. The others strolled along behind her in little clumps. Sheriam, wearing the blue Keeper’s stole, was talking with Myrelle and a bluff-faced Aes Sedai who managed to look motherly. Except for Delana, he recognised none of the others - one had grey hair in a bun; how old did Aes Sedai have to be for their hair to go completely grey or white? - but they were all talking among themselves, ignoring the woman they had named Amyrlin. Egwene might as well have been alone; she looked alone. Knowing her, she was trying very hard to be what they had named her, and they let her walk alone, with everybody watching. To the Pit of Doom with them if they think they can treat a Two Rivers woman that way, he thought grimly. Striding to meet Egwene, he swept off his hat and bowed, making the best leg he knew how, and he could flourish with the best when he had to. “Good morning, Mother, and the Light shine on you,” he said, loud enough to be heard in the village. Kneeling, he seized her right hand and kissed her Great Serpent ring. A quick glare and a grimace directed at Talmanes and the others, and hidden by Egwene from those behind her, had them all scrambling to kneel and call out, “The Light illumine you, Mother,” or some variation. Even Thom and Juilin. Egwene looked startled at first, though she hid it quickly. Then she smiled, and said softly, “Thank you, Mat.””

—

Lord of Chaos, chapter 44, “The Colour of Trust”. 

A rare moment of solidarity between Mat and Egwene, and all the more significant because it it’s an everyday occurrence. (Another one is when she tell shim about the doorway ter’angrael in TSR.) It’s a case of “I’ll disagree with you and complain about you, but I don’t think other people have the right to do that… and when it matters, I’ve got your back.”

(via herenya-sedai)

This is brilliant, one of the finest scenes of RJ. Six books Mat was built as the rebel, with no respect of any authority (even with Suan herself he wasn’t yes-man all the time), also he was mocking Egwene and Aes Sedai just hours ago, but with just one scene he received huge character development. Two Rivers FTW!

[theroadtoanywhere]

Chapter 5

The Fortress of Lost Dreams towered above the Central Wastes, almost touching the sky. Once we lifted the Luminus off of the skymaid’s head and touched ground, we went in.

The fortress wasn’t as colorful on the inside as it was on the outside. In fact, it was a bit creepy. We were looking around, trying to figure out what to do next, when we heard that voice again.

“Congratulations,” she said. “You made it. You’ve done well in bringing the compass to me.”

The owner of the voice wore the strangest, darkest dress I’d ever seen, and her skin was the color of milk. Before any of us could say a word we were surrounded by dolls, made of metal and string and old parts of clockwork. They were beautiful, but scary.

I knew then we’d been tricked.

Before we could make an attempt to escape they crowded us. One of them snatched the compass. Two more of them held a huge net. As we were trying to get the compass back, we were all wrapped in the net. It was a little like being dropped into a web of darkness, and in the darkness we screamed and struggled, until we were tumbled out of the web into a cage.

We were lowered into a pit with vines growing around the sides, and they left us there.

“So, what now?” Orrin was obviously worried.

I didn’t know what to tell her.

Blane looked around. He looked dejected.

Then his eyes widened, and he didn’t look anywhere nearly as dejected anymore.

“Look around us!” he said. So we did.

We realized that there was a way to escape. This is how we did it.

First, we all pressed ourselves against one side of the cage, and reached out to grab the vines. We pulled with all our strength, reaching out and grabbing higher and higher vines, until the cage was off the floor.

We kept climbing the vines while still in the cage, until we reached the top of the pit. We heard voices, then.

“Ere, I saw the lords ‘n ladies arrivin’ just a min' ago; What’s the mistress summoned ‘em ‘ere for?”

“Oh, that? Just to bear witness to when Empress DeVoid connects her wand to that compass she got.”

"A compass?”

“A magic compass, mind you. A recent acquisition by the Yellow Count, until it was stolen, but the Empress tricked the thieves into coming here. They’re in the dungeon now.”

“What’s so special about this compass?”

“It always guides you wherever you want to go. With the Empress’s wand, it can even open gateways! Even to places beyond Arc, if you know what I mean.”

“Aha, so she can finally dethrone the Great Banisher Lady Alba ‘erself, eh?”

“Indeed. You know how Her Majesty the Empress has been yearning for her vengeance on the Goddess. Come, I want to see what the Cosmic Gardens look like.”

As we heard them leave, Orrin whispered “She’s gonna do something terrible to the Goddess, isn’t she?”

“We can’t let her.” I replied.

“So, how do we get out of here?” Hinto asked.

“Uh...”

At that moment, one of the vines that we were clinging to snapped. We were so surprised that we all lost our grips.

We fell, screaming, back to the bottom of the pit. When we landed, the cage broke open. Good thing none of us were hurt.

“That works,” Blane groaned.

We got out of the pit by climbing on the vines. Now that we were free, we were off to save the Goddess. All we had to do was get the compass back and get out.

To be honest, we weren’t expecting it to be so complicated.

[fortuositywritings]

Collide

Part 1 Wanda x Reader

Summary: You bump into Wanda Maximoff at a grocery store. Wouldn’t be a problem if either of you were anyone else but you two were no ordinary people.

You would think having the ability to take anyone’s power would be awesome. It’s not.

With a simple touch, you could take any person with special abilities’ special powers from them. You figured this out in grade school when you high-fived one of your friends for the first time. Suddenly you could see through walls. That same year, you figured out they could take those powers back. 

A few years later you found out they could only take those powers back if they wanted them. You tried giving someone their invisibility back but they would not have it. Now you are stuck with it. You are stuck with a few others too, like walking through walls and mimicking voices. Those you got from random strangers on the street. 

Obviously, you tried to give them back. You wouldn’t take what isn’t yours, but it was an impossible task. Finding a stranger you bumped into in New York is kind of hard. 

You’ve tried passing off powers to other people but it never worked. You could only return them to the person who gave them to you. To give them back, all you had to do was touch them again and they had to want the powers back. It was that simple. 

So when you bump into Wanda Maximoff at the grocery store, things get a little complicated. 

You’ve made a friend recently who turns out to be Sokovian. Seeing as his birthday is coming up, you thought it would be cool to cook him a traditional Sokovian meal. A few searches on Google and you print out a list of what you need. 

You leave to the nearest store that would have all you need. You check off your list, heading toward the aisle of spices. You finally find the one the recipe calls for and lucky for you, it’s the last one. You reach for it but you feel someone else’s hand touching yours, reaching for the same thing. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says. You look at the woman who is standing really close to you for a stranger. She has intense green eyes, you notice. She pulls her hand away. 

“It’s alright,” you say. 

“Was that the last one?” she asks, awkwardly.

“It seems so,” you confirm. “But we can ask an employee if they have more somewhere?”

You flag down an employee two aisles down and ask. They shake their head and then tell you they won’t be getting more until next week. The woman with the green eyes sighs. 

“We can split it,” you suggest. “I don’t need the whole thing. At least I don’t think so? I just need it to make a Sokovian dish that calls for it. I probably won’t be using it for anything else.”

“I don’t know. Sokovian food is delicious if I may say so. You’ll get a taste and might regret sharing this with a stranger,” she teases. 

You smile and ask, “Oh, are you Sokovian?”

She nods and you add, “Well, then I insist on sharing it with you. Maybe you can actually give me a few tips on this recipe?”

“What are you making?” she asks you. You show her the recipe on your phone and she kindly shares some of her expertise which you’re grateful for. She follows you around the store making conversation as you grab the rest of what you need. Technically, you follow her around as she suggests you other stuff to add to the recipe. 

You add a mini mason jar to your cart. You both head to pay and outside pour some of the spice into your mason jar and give her the rest of the bottle. You thank her for all the help and wish her a great day. 

Wanda gets back to the tower in a positive mood. Everyone notices and asks her what happened. She replies that she just had a nice interaction with a stranger and it made her day. 

Though her day was made, the rest of her week was hell. She doesn’t know what is wrong with her. Her powers have been failing her. She doesn’t understand. At first she thinks it’s just the more difficult things she can’t do but then she notices how no one’s thoughts appear in her head. It’s quiet. She only hears her own. 

Something was definitely wrong.

You thought you were imagining things but after guessing what your friends’ were thinking for the umpteenth time, you knew you had taken someone else’s power. 

You don’t think it’s too bad at first. Only your friends’ heavy thoughts made their way into your head. Unfortunately, some of those thoughts you can never unhear again. 

The problem comes when you go to the library for the first time with this new power. The library is hell. It’s full of people who are just thinking loudly. See in public, there are people who are thinking loudly of course, but there are more people distracted and speaking without thinking, which you never thought you would be so grateful for. 

You don’t last in the library for very long. So libraries are on your list of places to avoid. Soon, movie theaters are also on that list and then so are museums. Any place where people are meant to be quiet is where it’s loudest in your head. 

You wish you knew who you touched to get these powers. You begin to think back at everyone the past few weeks that you might have had direct contact with. A hand you shook or an arm you bumped into. You’ve always been cautious about your surroundings so these things wouldn’t happen.

Everyone you greeted at your Sokovian friend’s party you’ve greeted before. No one was new there. The Sokovian at the store!

Damn it. You never got her name or anything. Maybe you’ll encounter her at the store again. The next few days, you spend hours at the same store. People begin to think you’re an employee and you almost feel like one, knowing exactly where everything is from spending so much time there. 

You’ve even made plans with one employee to go hangout. But no green eyed Sokovian makes an appearance. 

Three weeks you have this power when you find that not only can you read people’s thoughts, but you hold things without actually touching them. It happens when you drop something in the kitchen. You reach for it to catch it before it hits the floor but it’s nowhere near your grasp. However, it never hits the floor. 

You then notice a red mist-like substance coming from your hands floating in the direction of the object. You see that it’s holding it up. After that, you start practicing with random things around your apartment. You begin with lighter things, thinking you would only be able to hold weight that you could in your actual arms, but it is not so. 

You work your way up to lifting your car in the air and in that same moment you learn you could do multiple things like lifting your car and replacing the flat tire. 

Two months with these abilities and you feel you start getting the hang of it. You still can’t go to the library. You’ve tried again but the voices are too loud. You still go to the store where you met the woman that unintentionally gifted you these powers to try and return them. She seemed like a decent person and you don’t know what she used these powers for. Maybe she needs them.

You still have yet to find her. 

Wanda hasn’t been on a mission in three months. Instead, Bruce has been poking and prodding her with needles and running countless tests trying to figure out what happened with her powers. Three weeks ago she began to go to a therapist because Steve thought it might be a mental block of some sort that she had to work through.

Though therapy was doing wonders for her, they weren’t getting her anywhere near having her powers back. Bruce’s tests weren’t helpful either. She’s been stuck in the tower for three months and her days have never felt so repetitive until now- train, go to therapy, undergo tests. Rinse and repeat. 

The media had begun to notice as well. She turns to another TV channel where the news anchor asks “Where is Wanda Maximoff?” as if she’s disappeared from the face of the earth. In a way she has.

Fortunately for her, you are watching that same channel. You are cooking dinner and have the television channel on for background noise. You hear them talking about the Avengers. They’ve never been of much interest to you, although they should be seeing as though you live in the same city and something is always going down here because of that reason.

“For those who have been living under a rock,” the new anchor starts, “Wanda Maximoff is one of the newer additions to the Avengers.”

“She’s the one with the red magic, isn’t she?” the co-anchor asks. That grabs your attention. You turn to look at the screen. “That’s right. She joined about a year ago after the fall of Sokovia.”

That had to be a coincidence, right? 

“She hasn’t been reported to be on any missions the last three months,” the reporter continues. That definitely couldn’t be a coincidence, you think, counting back the time you’ve attained these powers. 

“Here is a clip of Maximoff using her magic to save diplomats at the embassy five months ago when…” You don’t hear the rest as you watch the clip play. 

It’s the green eyed Sokovian who helped you out at the market. Your suspicions about it being her who had these powers were correct. You just didn’t think you took powers from an Avenger. Someone who definitely needs these powers to do her job and save people like the clip shows. Shit.

You smell the food you’re cooking burning. 

“Shit!”

Wanda pounds her hand on the mat. Sweat clings onto her shirt. She’s tired and out of breath. 

“Again,” Nat commands. Wanda huffs and stands up, getting back into her fighting pose. She takes a swing that the Black Widow easily dodges. Not two moves later, she hits the mat again.

“Again,” Nat repeats.

“Natasha, give the kid a break,” Steve says, watching from the side. 

“It’s okay,” Wanda assures him.

Natasha explains, “If therapy and tests aren’t working, maybe self defense will.”

Steve seems doubtful but allows it. They really need Wanda to work through whatever is blocking her from using her powers. He winces seeing Wanda hit the mat.

“Again.”

“I’ve told you for the millionth time. My name is Y/N L/N and I need to speak to Wanda Maximoff. Or any of the Avengers, really. Or even one of their assistants or something. It’s vital,” you try helplessly. 

“Unless you have clearance, I can’t let you up,” the guy at the desk says to you for what feels like the hundredth time. You’ve been coming in the past few days trying to get someone to let you see Wanda. 

“Look, it’s really important. Can’t you, like, give her a message or something?” You’re desperate at this point. He laughs. 

“Ah, yes, let me just text her real quick. ‘hey Wanda. It’s that one guy you said hello to once downstairs. There’s some girl here that needs to talk to you’,” he acts out sarcastically, which you do not find amusing. 

“Listen, buddy. If you do me this favor and get your boss or whoever can give me clearance to see her, I promise she’ll be so grateful for you helping me get to her that she’ll come and thank you herself,” you vow. 

“I can’t help you, Miss. Now please go or I’ll have to call security,” he warns.

You rub your temple in frustration. “Fine. There’s no need for that...Michael,” you read his name. “I’m going.”

You turn around as if to head for the door but then do a 180 and sprint past a security guard who shouts at you to stop. You make your way for the elevators as the security guard runs after you. You press the button for the elevators but you notice they’re nowhere near the ground floor. 

The security catches up to you and in panic, you push him away with Wanda’s powers. He goes sliding across the floor and you bolt for the stairs.

You don’t even know which floor you would find Wanda in but you assume it would be somewhere up top. You begin your ascend. You reach the fourth floor and realize you should start using the StairMaster at the gym. You hear multiple security guards quickly making their way to you. You panic and walk through the wall, not knowing what was on the other side. 

You’re in some kind of engineering lab. You don’t think anyone saw you walk through the wall, so you try to act casual and stroll through the lab trying to find an exit. Then you hear someone call you. “Hey, you.”

You ignore them and act like you didn’t hear. They tell you to stop walking, loud enough that you can’t ignore it. You turn around to see a woman in a lab coat. She asks, “You’re not allowed on this floor. Who let you up here?”

“Oh, uh. Michael sent me,” you lie. “Sorry, I’m new. I must have gotten off on the wrong floor. Maybe you could help me find my way?”

“Where are you meant to be working?” she inquires and you’re stuck not knowing anything about the Stark Tower or Avengers Tower, whatever it’s called. 

“The lab,” you say. Your vague answer obviously creates another question. “What lab?”

“They haven’t told me yet? I’m not actually working in the labs. I’m doing more secretarial duties, taking notes and scheduling stuff.”

“For whom?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at you. You can feel her catching onto you and it’s the only reason why you try this.

“For the big guy, obviously,” you say and then focus really hard trying to read her mind, hoping that a name will pop up in her head. Did Bruce get an assistant? You smile. “Bruce.”

“Well then you are way off. He’s usually working on the 87th floor,” she tells you. 

“Well, thank god there’s an elevator,” you chuckle nervously, pointing behind you. “Well, I should get going before I’m any later. You turn around confidently but as you walk away she stops you once more. You think you got caught but she says, “Elevators are that way.”

She points to the opposite way you came from. You laugh to play off your mistake, “Duh. Sorry, the lab is so big. Thanks.”

You head the right way. You speed walk to the elevators and then jog when you hear a rougher voice telling you to stop. “She’s on the fourth floor.”

You assume they spoke into their walkie, and you know you don't have much time before they catch you. You think quickly. You can’t make your way to the elevator because then obviously they’ll just stop the elevators. You don’t want to walk through a wall; the dangers of that are extreme given this is Stark Tower. You could accidentally walk into an ongoing experiment. 

You had to hide. And suddenly, you had the perfect plan. 

The security guard runs to you. He thinks you’re running for the elevator but then you turn before you get there. He sees you dive behind some clunky machine, presumably to hide behind. You clearly never have won a game of hide and seek in your life, he thinks as he goes around the machine to catch you. 

He’s left utterly confused when you aren’t there. The only trace of you are your clothes down to underwear on the floor. Four other guards make it to the floor. One asks him, “Where is she?”

He doesn’t know how to answer. “She was right here. Search the floor. She’s hiding and I think she’s naked.”

They disperse taking your clothes with them. You let out a breath of relief at not getting caught but then mentally curse that they took your clothes. You still haven’t learned how to make other things invisible yet. You never really used this power. Maybe you should start practicing.

You hustle your naked ass to the elevators, feeling incredibly exposed even though you know no one can actually see you. You press the elevator button and wait impatiently. It dings and opens. 

“The elevators!” You hear one of the guards yell. Two run your way as you step into the car. You put all your energy into staying invisible. It would be really awkward if you were suddenly exposed. You hold your breath when one of them looks in the elevator. You keep yourself in the corner furthest away from them. In their eyes, there is no one in the elevator. 

“She’s not here.” They leave and the doors close. You click the button for the 87th floor.

____________________________________________________

This will probably have 3 parts. 

[mirclealignr]

Regulus Black Fluff Alphabet

regulus x gn! reader

requested by anon

warnings; brief mentions of food and anxiety

from this alphabet

A - Affection; how they like to show their love.

Regulus does a lot through touch and reassuring looks/smiles. He finds it hard sometimes to express just how he feels about you, especially considering expressions of love were severely lacking in his life. But when he holds your hand or caresses your face, he feels as if he's spilling all his secrets, and hopes that you understand them.

B - Beauty; what do they especially admire about you?

Your warmth. At first it was practically disarming, but overtime he learned to embrace it and miss it when it was absent, when you were absent. It would be so different to what he was used to, especially with the people closest to him. But he would adore the change that was you.

C - Cuddles; how they like to cuddle you.

Most of the time he likes to have his arms around you, sitting up slightly while you lay against his chest. There's a sense of safety he finds in knowing that you can hear his heartbeat and that it doesn't scare you off. But sometimes, he likes it when you take him in your arms and he can nuzzle in the crook of your neck.

D - Dancing; their favourite place to dance with you.

He is simply a hopeless romantic, and loves to dance with you when it's dark and raining outside, when the two of you are almost completely alone. He loves watching you smile as the rain seeps into your clothes and dampens your hair, and when you rest your head on his chest for some shelter.

E - Excitement; do they get excited with you about things?

Regulus likes to understand things before he gets excited about them with you. If you come running to him with an elated expression and start rambling about whatever brought you this pleasure, he'd want to know why. He'd want to understand you and relate to you. Almost always, he'd become just as excited as you.

F - First Date; your first date together.

The Astronomy Tower. Regulus would want to be alone with you, without prying or judging eyes. It wouldn't be much, maybe some snacks and a drink he brought for you, but he would want to hear you talk and laugh and to see you smile. He'd want to know your likes and dislikes, the memories you cherished, and things you looked back on and laughed at.

G - Goals; do they have things they want to achieve? Do they include you in these things?

For Regulus, his future goals remain largely unclear. Before you, he thought it was simple, but afterwards it would become far more complicated. With the weight of his family, and Sirius' abandonment making it heavier, he would often try to avoid the thought. But if you ever brought it up, he'd tell you that wherever you were, he would be.

H - Honesty; how open are they with you?

Very. Trust is something extremely important to him. While he may not tell you everything the second it happens, he does have every intention of letting you see every side of him, even the parts he wished would vanish from existence. Upon getting to know you, the trials of his family would be revealed slowly, rather than all at once, so he didn't overwhelm you. Of course, he'd be terrified, but he knew it was better that way, and he knew that you would love him all the same.

I - I Love You; do they say it a lot? did they say it first?

Regulus does not say it first, though he'd be sure he felt it first. He confesses straight after you, though, and gradually says it more and more over time. Expressing his feelings would not come easy, and sometimes, rather than tell you how much he appreciated you for listening or how beautiful he thought you were, he simply said 'I love you' in replacement, hoping that it would be enough.

J - Jealousy; do they get jealous?

Not necessarily jealous, but rather insecure. When he sees you laughing with someone else, he'd wonder whether they were better suited to you--they were warmer, more free, happier. Perhaps he brought you down, perhaps he weighed you down, and though he didn't express these insecurities out loud, he'd always seem to be easily read by you. And you'd always be there to reassure him when you needed to.

K - Kiss; their favourite place to kiss you.

Your hands. For Regulus, hands mean so much, represent so much, and yours are his to kiss and hold as much as he pleases. To him it would feel incredibly intimate, despite the fact that your hands can touch others, but that they're only his to kiss and hold. People can always get close, but never as close as he can.

L - Little Spoon; who’s the little spoon?

The majority of the time, you are the little spoon. He likes the idea that he is able to protect you, actually make you feel safe and wanted; it's one of the things he prides himself on. But, there woulds be times when he needed to feel that, and revelled in the warmth of your embrace tightening around him, holding him close.

M - Melody; what’s your song together?

I think your song together would be 'I Want to Hold Your Hand' by The Beatles.

N - Nicknames; do they use nicknames for you?

Yes a few. Some of them would include 'treasure' and/or 'my treasure' because he adores you and could not think of anything better than you. For him, you are what people search for their whole lives, sometimes without ever finding it. And, because he speaks French, ‘mon chéri /ma chérie' for definite.

O - Open Book; how hard was it to get to know them?

It wasn't necessarily hard, just gradual. However, you would have always suspected that Regulus did not have it easy and were content with him going at his own pace, and appreciating that he was brave enough to reveal it all to you. It never seemed too slow, rushed, or overwhelming--he picked his timings well and never let things become too heavy. He'd also be very conscious that everyone had their own burdens, and would make sure he always left time and room for you to air anything you wanted or needed.

P - PDA; how affectionate they are in public.

Not very much at all. He prefers to show you his love when it's just the two of you. But he isn't afraid to let other people know that you're in a relationship, and will often intertwine his fingers with yours, whisper things in your ear, and kiss your temple.

Q - Quirk: a weird but loveable trait of theirs.

He never signs his name, he always signs R.A.B. Even when it's small notes to you, little love letters, or ordinary letters, he will never sign it as Regulus, but with his full initials.

R - Romance; how romantic are they?

So much. He loves leaving you love notes, writing love letters to you, slow dancing with you, playing music for you, watching the stars with you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, snuggling up in bed with you with a good book. He loves to do it all.

S - Secrets; do they keep secrets from you?

Not really. Perhaps only ones he thinks would unnecessarily hurt you, like what his family says about you. He doesn't tell you because he doesn't think it matters, they don't matter to him, only you do, and he wants their words to mean nothing.

T - Thrill; do they like to keep the relationship new and exciting?

He likes to, and he tries. He certainly likes surprising you, even if only to see that smile. He likes taking you places, learning your favourite songs on the piano simply because you like hearing them, taking you on spontaneous trips or dates. He's not on for grand, public gestures, but he still keeps excitement in the relationship his own way. But he also knows when things need to be slow and calm, and doesn't mind it either way.

U - Understanding; how they comfort/support when you’re upset or anxious.

He knows that most things said would be wrong, even if they were intended to be reassuring and understanding. Even when you talk about what's bothering you or don't, it can be hard to say the right thing. So instead, he takes you in his arms, rubs your back, kisses your cheek and gets you any comfort foods that you wish for. Sometimes, words speak far less than actions.

V - Vexed; how easily they lose their temper.

With his family, and even with Sirius, Regulus can lose his temper very quickly, but you understand that their relationship has not been easy, nor do you care for his family. With you, it's rare that he loses his temper or raises his voice at you. When he does, there are usually other factors that have contributed to his mood, and he is quick to apologise afterwards.

W - Weakness; what’s their weakness what it comes to you?

Your smile. So easily it can make him feel like he's falling from the stars, watching the constellations become smaller and smaller as he slips into the earth's atmosphere, burning and smiling and falling completely in love with you every time he sees it.

X - Xtra; random hc about them.

Regulus likes to speak in French to you when there are things he is too afraid to say or things he thinks sound more romantic when said in another language. Even if you can understand him, there's something less nerve-racking about saying it in French, it's almost like he's playing himself in another world, but still hopelessly in love with you.

Y - Years to Come; how they imagine your future together.

He doesn't like to think about the future often because he knows how easily it can change and fail to meet your expectations. He only hopes that he is with you, facing whatever is to come. He prefers to focus on the present, where he already is with you.

Z - Zzz; how they are when they sleep.

Incredibly still, almost scarily still. The only time he moves is to be closer to you, closer to your exuding warmth. It almost frightens you to move in case it wakes him or disturbs him, but if it does, he never lets on. - - - fill in this form or send an ask to be added to a tag list <3 forever friends; @myalupinblack / @selenes-sun / @vixxiann /@queen-asteria04 / @lillict / @savingpluto /@theincredibledeadlyviper / @pad-foots / @fizzleberries / @willowbleedsonpaper / @kinkyduuh harry potter; @fuckingbloodyhello / @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts / @scvrllet / @dreamerinthesun / @crazy-beautiful / @chaoticgirl04 /@cupids-crystals / @fandom-life-12 / @mypainistemporary-blog /@oliverwoodmarrymepls / @eunoniaa / @missryerye marauders era; @spxllcxstxr / @natashxromanovfreads / @ch /@sereinegemini / @helen-with-an-a / @sweeter-than-strawberries /@spxncervibes regulus black; @jackys-stuff-blog / @with-love-anu / @yinrose98 /@tarorootboba / @lyaseille / @bloodblossom73

[clarissalance]

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you? 

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.) 

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!! 

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat. 

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows. 

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation. 

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent.  With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.  

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.” 

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks? 

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away. 

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said:  ‘Farewell, my comrades’. 

 For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword. 

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

 “ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone? 

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground! 

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.” 

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department. 

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you. 

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them. 

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”  

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years. 

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?  

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out. 

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed. 

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?" 

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a  few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button. 

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful. 

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?” 

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him. 

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank. 

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes. 

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture. 

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike. 

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you. 

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground. 

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes. 

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks. 

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating. 

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry. 

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”  

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up. 

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby. 

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ”  His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.  

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent? 

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo. 

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort.  Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.  

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what? 

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you. 

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you? 

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action. 

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?  

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about. 

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day?  You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now! 

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.  

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.  

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm. 

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more. 

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist. 

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering. 

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure. 

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route. 

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack. 

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.   

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can. 

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder? 

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.  

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back. 

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.    

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively. 

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go? 

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.       

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.” 

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic.