#even though it got way more elaborate than either of us expected

[pomefioredove]

Saw you took specific requests. Here's mine:

Jamil with a religious reader who gives him a protection talisman.

Fun fact, prayer beads are used in multiple religions as they help count prayers (Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, etc).

So let's say reader comes from a world where magic exists but it's exclusively on religious grounds. Meaning if you wanna do magic you gotta pray to the right god or make a deal with some form of mythological creature.

Reader knows that Jamil's is always in danger due to the constant assassination attempts on Kalim, so they make a set of prayer beads and ask a diety to bless it in order to protect their boyfriend (could be Allah, Indra, Shiva, Buddha, Susanoo, whichever). Jamil accepts it and heads back home appreciating the sentiment but not really believing.

Except any form of danger keeps getting thwarted. Drink/food he's trying is poisoned? Conveniently spills over/has a whole in the bottom. Accident happens? Conveniently pushed out of the way. Someone tries to hurt him/kill him? Struck by lightning and straight up dies.

Not even his own parents are safe. They try to slap him to "discipline him" then they get zapped (lightly tho).

you know!!! I love this prompt so much... I'm a religious studies major so this kinda stuff is so ^w^ to me I get so excited.

summary: giving jamil a protection spell type of post: short fic characters: jamil additional info: reader is gender neutral, the existence of religious beliefs in twst is. confusing. so we're keeping it vague, not proofread, reader is yuu

Perhaps it was because your world was still considered "magicless" by Twisted Wonderland standards, or perhaps Jamil was never superstitious to begin with.

Either way, he wasn't exactly as excited as you'd been hoping for.

"It's nice. Did you make it yourself?" he asks, inspecting the beads. "A bracelet?"

"Prayer beads, actually. And yes, I did,"

"It's well made. What's the purpose?"

You hesitate. The nature of religion in this world is still confusing to you, although you can surmise there's got to be some kind of belief system. It's best not touching on for now.

Besides, Jamil has never been much of a believer in higher powers. For good reason.

"For protection," you explain. "Not that I think you can't handle yourself. But I worry about you over break, you know..."

He's quiet for a moment, inspecting the gift in the palm of his hand. And then he tucks the beads away in his pocket and smiles.

"I'll keep them with me, then. Thank you,"

Even if he's not exactly keen on the idea that these things will make his life any less terrible, they're from you.

And so he keeps his promise, and tucks them away after you part.

By the time he's "home" (back in Kalim's family home) he's all but forgotten about the little blessing at the bottom of his pocket. Not that you can really blame him- "vacation" is more of a title than a reality when he's back.

The first incident happens not even a day after.

The al-Asim summer mansion is certainly nothing to scoff at. Though it's only one of many, this one in particular houses a large sum of physical treasures, line with gold and ivory, stuffed full of spices and all the makings of a feast that could feed thousands, a shining jewel of the desert.

Jamil is not all that impressed.

Especially when it comes to navigating such an ornate building on orders. The polished-to-perfection floors present a challenge when you're carrying three crates worth of grain to the kitchen on the lowest floor.

Damn these stairs.

Though Jamil may not be a religious man, he still asks whatever deity may be up there to smite the slippery spiral staircase he's descending.

His arms strain to uphold the weight of the boxes, and his legs strain to keep a good footing on one of the many long and elaborate and narrow servant passages designed specifically so that the unwanted workers of the family can slip by undetected.

Quiet, diligent, and he has to be quick, too. Kalim is expecting him for a game in one of the many lounges soon.

Another unfortunate "vacation". How he'd much rather be spending it with you...

For a brief moment, Jamil swears he can feel the beads in his pocket warm against him, reminding him of their presence.

And then he slips.

The crates free themselves from his careful grasp and tumble down the stairs, creaking and thudding but mercifully staying intact.

Jamil, however, isn't made of wood. He winces as he feels himself tilting forward- and then... somehow, a strong draft pushes him on his back.

He lands just shy of his tailbone, luckily not hurting anything, except for his pride.

What a turn of luck.

The next happens at dinner.

Jamil keeps his earlier blunder to himself. His pride is damaged enough as it is, after all, and so he tries his best to conceal how shaken up the experience left him by moving swiftly across the kitchen.

"We have a dish ready for you to test," someone shouts.

He sighs. How many more evenings of this will he have to endure?

Though, he reminds himself- this may always be his last.

The thought makes Jamil chuckle as he's handed a hot dish and a clean fork. He can only stop to smell the roses for so long, so there's no chance of savoring such an exquisitely prepared meal before he's off to another part of the kitchen.

Just as the fork digs into the food, the dish slips out of his hand and shatters on the kitchen floor. Everyone falls silent.

His eyes widen. "How- ugh. My apologies,"

Now this is just getting ridiculous. How clumsy can he get in one evening? He's usually much more careful...

"Look," the head chef says, the whole kitchen crowding around the food as it dissolves.

Jamil's stomach lurches. Cyanide. It has to be. If he'd eaten that dish right there and then...

The kitchen is swiftly cleared out, and he's sent back to the lounge.

it only gets stranger from there.

What Jamil initially wrote off as clumsiness and luck seems to become a pattern-

a flying arrow at the archery range just narrowly misses him when he bends down to fix his sandal.

The al-Asim family tiger (because of course they have one) chooses to toy with a visiting prince rather than him in the courtyard.

A strong draft pushes him on his rear end seconds before a sandbag falls from an under-construction part of the mansion.

He would call it fortune if he believed in such a thing.

By the end of the vacation, everyone is absolutely perplexed by his string of good luck. Jamil isn't unfamiliar with how dangerous his family's position in life is, and he's had his fair share of injuries as a result, but this time all he has to show for it is a slightly lesser sense of annoyance than usual.

It's only the end of the trip where he ponders (unfortunately aloud) about the string of coincidences, and the beads in his pocket.

Kalim goes on to babble about Jamil's "good luck charm" to anyone who will listen, much to his annoyance.

"Oh, I want one too! Can you ask them to make me one, too?" he says, folding his hands in a pleading motion. "It's so pretty!"

"It was a gift. But... I suppose I can ask..." he sighs, and then smiles to himself.

Of course you'll come up with some excuse to say no. Because, for once, this charm is all his.

[honeysbeebears]

Sleepover Schemes // BKG

Bakugo Katsuki X Reader

In Japan, saying ‘the moon is beautiful’ is a common way to confess one’s feelings of love

Word count: a lot

Warnings: none other than I did not spell check this lol & bakugo might be a little ooc sorry

“Arent sleepovers against the rules?” You look up curiously at the girls surrounding your desk. Right now the class was on a quick break before heading over to the training session. Mina frantically began shushing you “yes! so don’t go saying it out loud like that girl!” You giggle softly “oops”

Uraraka speaks up “it’ll be fun though, we’ll have snacks, face masks, the works!” You nod, looking up at Momo “you mind if i bring makeup? I think a little makeover sesh would be fun too” Momo beams “of course! that sounds lovely” smiling back at her, you give everyone a thumbs up “im in!” the girls exclaim happy cheers before hushing up again once they realized they made a bit of a scene before going back to giggling quietly amongst themselves

In the distance, kirishima is looking over at the group in wonder “hm, wonder what’s got them all worked up” Kaminari, who is standing right next to him shrugs “eh you know them” Bakugo rolls his eyes, not paying any mind to either group before Sero speaks up

“I heard (L/N) say the word ‘sleepover’ though” with that, bakugo is glancing behind him to look at the three boys. They’re obviously up to no good

Kaminari rubs his hands together as if he’s a villain coming up with some elaborate scheme, which is exactly what he was doing “A sleepover huh?” Kirishima and Sero look at him quizzically “dude don’t tell me you-“ Kaminari quickly cuts him off “want to go spy on them?! You betcha!” He gives the boys a thumbs up, kirishima is looking a bit nervous “I dunno man, isn’t that like an invasion of privacy?” Sero nods in agreement, the yellow headed boy smirks once more at his two friends “you know what girls talk about at sleepovers….?” He says, the scheming tone in his voice evident. Bakugo is listening, not like he has a choice while he waits

“Crushes” with that, the look on Sero and Kirishima’s faces change into that of determination, Kaminari knows he’s got them convinced now. Bakugo once again sighs and rolls his eyes

“Don’t you guys want to know who a babe like (L/N) has the hots for?” He throws his arms around the two, looking at the both of them with conniving eyes. At the mention of your name, bakugo freezes as well, making an unwanted grunt that catches the attention of the three boys standing behind him

“Oh looks like Bakubro is interested as well, it’s because i mentioned (F/N) isn’t it?” He teases, Bakugo whips around in his chair “Shut the hell up dunce face” he shouts, his usual angry tone just slightly angrier at the allegation before turning back around, huffing and crossing his arms “Will you be joining us then? Cmon I know even someone like you can’t help but be curious” Before Bakugo can go off again, he looks over at your smiling face, and then imagines the three, in his words, idiots, messing with you and he sinks lower into his chair

“… Fine”

Kirishima looks down at him in shock “no way dude i totally was not expecting that” Bakugo scoffs, slightly embarrassed “I’m only going so you three ass munchers don’t do anything stupid” Kaminari covers his mouth to stifle a giggle “oh dude you’re so down bad you don’t even know it”

“I’ll blast you all the way to hell!”

The girls watch as Kaminari is running around the room, Bakugo chasing after him. Kaminari using the desks as a divider while kirishima and sero are laughing intensely at the scene

“What’s up with those guys?” Jiro questions, eyebrow raised, you shrug “you can never tell with them anymore” you and the other girls watch, entertained while Uraraka and Mina are cheering Kaminari on as he ‘breaks Bakugo’s ankles’ you giggle and join in

“Go get him Kacchan!” Bakugo looks over at you, angrily shouting back “shut your mouth before i blast your dumb ass all the way to hell!”

—

“Oh cmon (F/N) there’s gotta be someone you’re eyeballing i mean look at you” you quirk an eyebrow towards Mina, who’s been bugging you about this ever since you entered Momo’s room “and what’s that supposed to mean?” Mina starts wildly waving her hands around “i mean you’re like smoking hot girl! I didn’t mean it in a bad way” the other girls sitting around you agree in their own ways

You sigh a little, although you weren’t expecting that particular reason “even if i did like anyone I don’t really think it’d be reciprocated, im kind of a klutz” immediately your friends spring into action, showering you with compliments so much that you start to blush. You cover your face in embarrassment at the affection

“Why would you ever even think that? There’s so many dudes pining over you as we speak” Hagakure points out, she’s currently fixing her face mask that Momo had passed out to everyone

You playfully roll your eyes “oh yeah like who?” Thinking you were able to stump them there.

Jiro, who is sitting next to you, side eyes you, not really sure if you were being serious “dude” you whip your head to look at her in a surprised confusion, before you look at the rest of your friends who appear to share the same sentiment, you look at tsuyu, she’s honest right?

“I can name atleast 5 boys right now” the green haired girl points out. You’re simply flabbergasted “What? Who then” you cross your arms. One by one your friends speak in turn

“That boy from the sports festival, Shinso, seems to be quite interested in you after you almost won” Momo starts

“And that boy from 1B, Kaibara, ever since you helped him out at the sports festival he’s been lingering around to get your attention” Tsuyu adds

“Don’t even get me started on Amajiki-senpai, he literally said you reminded him of the sun and admitted you were one of the only people he felt comfortable around, he blushes so much around you im surprised the constant blood rushes haven’t been getting to him ” Jiro says

Your eyes are darting inbetween all of your beloved friends as they quite seriously list off a surprising amount of people, since when were they so observant? You shove your face back into your hands “ok I get it guys..” embarrassed is an understatement

“Oh! And bakugo too!” Uraraka happily points out, as if this was common knowledge, but for you this was the final nail in the coffin before you begin to practically steam out of how flustered you became “I highly doubt that” you managed to squeak out

You thought you were hearing things but you heard a soft thud somewhere in the room, you chose to ignore it

Momo gently strokes your hair, although she still found the predicament quite amusing

Mina finds this exciting, she begins to ponder and think about all of the interactions you’ve had with Bakugo since the beginning of the year

“Oh my god do you guys remember when…”

—

Evidence #1

Something was smelling quite good in the common area, and as everyone began filing down to prepare for the weekend morning they were met with quite the sight

You were baking cinnamon rolls for everyone, as a part of your weekly ritual of baking or cooking for the class. Bakugo happened to have woken up early, came down and found himself chatting to you as if it was a normal thing for him to do

There you were, happily conversing with Bakugo as you were mixing what appeared to be frosting in a bowl. He wasn’t adorned with any sort of scowl, his eyebrows weren’t furrowed and he was silently watching you while listening to whatever story you were telling him, if they didn’t know any better they would’ve thought it was admiration. Of course, upon seeing the two, the usual suspects surrounded them completely disregarding what they stumbled upon, and bakugo was quick to throw angry insults at them

Mina noted the soft expression on his face before the boys had shown up

—

Evidence #2

“Uhm (F/N), do you and Bakugo normally walk to class together?” Upon entering the classroom and walking to your desk, your friends were gathered into their usual group right next to it, you shrug before answering “yeah, for some reason I’ve been managing to catch him just before we enter the building, weird coincidence but i don’t mind it’s pretty nice company, plus when we were kids we’d walk to school together sometimes” your friends deadpan at the last bit ‘bakugo… nice company?’

They all look over to see bakugo arguing with the other guys about some mundane topic, of course he was the most aggressive, yelling and making the usual scene, they simply looked at his comically scowling face before simultaneously thinking ‘not a chance’

Jiro makes a mental note that when she walked into the building, she saw Kirishima run into Bakugo who was standing at the entrance, asking to walk to class together before Bakugo shuts Kirishima down, saying something akin to “Hell no I’m busy!” Kirishima gives him a puzzled look before seeing Kaminari and telling Bakugo he’d see him later

Could it be..?

—

Evidence #3

“I won’t repeat myself asshat, let go of her now” Everyone in the class froze, staying silent, usually he’d be screaming this sort of demand. he was seriously pissed off beyond belief. His eyes pierced into the boy who had his wrapped his arm around your shoulders, Shindo. You awkwardly smile “Bakugo im sure he doesn’t mean any harm-“ before you can finish your sentence you feel something tug on your wrist, ripping you from the black haired boys grasp. You blink in shock, looking up you see Bakugo’s fiery eyes that speak a thousand words, but he only speaks two. “Get lost” his voice absolutely dripping in venom as he slightly tightened his grip he’d laid on your shoulder

Shindo stares back, his eyes narrowing before he throws on a smile “My bad, bro, hey listen im sorry, let’s do our best out there o-“ he holds his hand out to Bakugo to shake, before Bakugo swaps his hand away, turning the both of you around “your words don’t match that expression on your face, i said get lost”

Everyone slowly began to speak amongst themselves again, Bakugo wordlessly handing you over to Kirishima and Mina before spinning around to wander off somewhere else. You simply watch him go, he really was pissed off, mumbling some obscenities. You almost missed the gentle yet tight squeeze he gave your shoulder when he let go.

—

Final Evidence

“Midoriya, you’ve known those two for awhile right?” Mina asks, everyone is currently training, but a small group is sitting by taking a break. Midoriya looks up after taking a drink of water, his eyes land on the two

“I can’t breathe…” you exhale your words, Kirishima is rubbing your back comfortingly as the training gets to you, Bakugo rolls his eyes “you damn lazy shithead you’re never gonna beat me with that lazy ass attitude of yours” You look up at him and glare before smirking, dramatically falling back on kirishima’s chest with your hand on your forehead “I can’t breathe… there’s no room in Kacchan’s EGO, can we go now?!” and just like that, Bakugo is on your ass as you zoom away with your quirk, screaming about how he’s gonna murder you

Midoriya smiles “yep, honestly i cant really imagine what it’d be like without her, she’s been like a middle ground between the two of us ever since junior high, a voice of reason” he has a gentle smile on his face before it drops in an instant and he cringes remembering that time, a chill going up his spine “honestly I don’t think I would’ve survived junior high without her…” before Mina can question that bit he starts to ramble

“Me and (F/N) are best friends, but her and bakugo have this special connection. She’s able to read him like a book, understand him to a level I just can’t. It’s truly fascinating” he looks at Bakugo’s smiling face as he dangles you upside down off a rock formation, of course it’s mostly his usual angry grin but somewhere under there is a genuine smile as you laugh while telling him to put you down

“I’m sure he feels the same way I do, he just has a funny way of showing it”

Mina makes a mental note of this

—

You’re now laid flat on Momo’s bed, each bit of ‘evidence’ making you blush harder and harder, and they just keep going

“And when we were picking vocals for the festival, he refused to be drums unless you sang also, ribbit”

You shoot up, steaming “okayyy guys please stop” Momo looks at you with a pitiful expression “yeah I think she gets the point girls”

Mina still needs to know though

“Okay fine but can you atleast tell us, if you had to pick, who would you date?!” Shes gripping a pillow to her chest in anticipation. You think to yourself once you regain your composure, deep in thought for a moment before taking a deep breath in.

“Shut up” Kirishima whispers, nudging Kaminari as he can tell the boy is absolutely struggling to keep in his laughter, who can blame him though when Bakugo Katsuki himself is blushing from ear to ear from all the information he’s just learned

Boys like you? That many? And how could they know he liked you? He didn’t even know that. There is absolutely no chance in hell he’d ever consider thinking of you that way the thought of it is absurd

Atleast that’s what he told himself

He was about to tell the both of them to shut up before the sound of your timid voice brings him back to reality

“If.. if I had to… I guess it would be..” everyone, including the invading boys, are sweating in anticipation, Bakugo’s palms are slightly damper than usual

“Bakugo..” you finally muster out, barely audible, the girls cheer and clap at your admittance and the boys look at Bakugo’s absolutely shocked expression, they don’t tease though, not right now in such a compromising place

“But it would never happen” for some reason this statement makes him upset, what’s that supposed to mean?

“We both have the ultimate goal of becoming heroes, and we both can’t afford to become distracted with romance, plus I really don’t think he’d ever see me that way, he sees me as an annoying little kid who’s been sticking around since diapers” you laugh, albeit pitifully, at the end of your sentence, the girls don’t know what to say or how to comfort you, they know you know him better than anyone, so if you say it then it’s probably true

Probably

Mina gives her a big hug “aw im sorry for making you sad” you give her a gentle squeeze back “im not upset, don’t worry about it” she holds your shoulders and smiles before deciding on what you all were gonna do next

“How about we sneak over to 7 eleven, I bet we’re dying for some snacks right now” Uraraka shoots up “yes please!”

And just like that the energy in the room is back to its happy self, you giggling and nodding in agreement

As the group of you all put on your shoes, you ask Momo if you can borrow a hoodie from her closet

The closet, uh oh

The boys are frantically looking at each other, whispering ‘what do we do?!’ over and over, absolutely panicking

Internally, Bakugo is freaking out the most. What would he even do if you find out he heard everything you said? Would things be the same? Not that he cares.

They watch you come over to the closet, bracing, preparing for the worst as you begin to open the door

You softly swing the closet door open, and immediately the sight leaves you frozen in place

In front of you, on the floor of the closet are the boys, and Bakugo, and he’s looking at you with this angrily embarrassed look on his face, cheeks flushed. You blink and feel your cheeks heat up, spinning your head around as Momo asks what’s taking you so long, you look back at the boys, pleading with you with their eyes. You glare at the group of them before shutting the door in their face , telling momo you changed your mind on the hoodie

Relief was an understatement as the door to the dorm shuts and locks, the boys all loosen up as they give out a sigh, sinking to the wall and floor

“I thought we were goners for sure there!” Sero says, still terrified “luckily (F/N) is so cool, if it were anyone else we’d be dead for sure” Kirishima adds

Bakugo feels his phone buzz, he pulls it out to see a message and he freezes

(F/N): you guys better be out of there by the time we come back, I mean it.

He opens the closet door, and gets up “let’s get the fuck out of here, im never doing that shit again you fuckers” this time the boys don’t argue, and they all scurry out of the room, Bakugo says nothing as they go back to their respective rooms, and the boys decide not to push their luck tonight

By the time you return, snacks in hand, you look to the closet before walking over to open it again. ‘Empty. Good’ you thought. Atleast they listened to you, you were ready to rip them a new one if they decided to stick around after you gave them a saving grace

Momo asks what you’re doing, you say you’re admiring her clothes before asking what movie they picked to watch

—

After that, neither you nor bakugo had spoken a word to each other. For over a week the atmosphere in the classroom is thick with tension, Midoriya is the first to point it out to you while you’re hanging out in his dorm

“Uh.. (F/N)?” He looks up from the controller in his hand, the ‘victory player 1’ text on the screen on the TV blinking at him

You come down from your winning grin “yes Izuku?” He fiddles with the buttons before finally asking

“What’s up with you and Kacchan?” You are speechless, he noticed? Of course he noticed he’s Izuku.

You sigh, sinking into his bed, back against the wall it’s connected to “no point in lying to you huh?” Izuku gives a light laugh “after all this time, no” he looks at you expectantly

Putting down the controller you turn your head to look at him

“I think.. im in love with kacchan” hearing you admit it out loud after all this time was surreal, you thought it was something you’d take to the grave.

Izuku is shocked, of course, he never imagined his two childhood friends would catch feelings towards each other. He’s also used to you being the one giving him comfort or reassurance. He’s not very experienced in the romance department as is, so he’s not sure what to say to you about that. But he does know you like the back of his hand. You give him the same reason you give the girls as to why you’re never gonna tell him. You also tell him he heard everything.

“Wow that must’ve been super embarrassing..” he says, you face palm “I know! I can’t bring myself to look at him, and honestly the fact that he won’t look at me says something too..” you say, dejectedly. Izuku puts his hand on your shoulder, giving you a gentle smile “listen, im not the best with romance n all, but from what I know about the two of you, I think it’s best to just talk it out. You two don’t have to date, but maybe it’ll do the both of you good to get some sort of closure..” the look on your face is hard to read, he guesses you’re taking all of this in “id really hate to see you two drift apart over something like this, after everything we’ve all been through together.. plus I think you’d be surprised over what he has to say”

For some reason, you start to tear up, his words really got to you.

You missed bakugo, and you really didn’t want to lose him

“Is it really worth a try?” You mutter, looking down at your hands, Izuku puts his own hand on top of yours, making you look up back at him “it’s better to try than to not try at all”

—

Back in your dorm, you stare at your phone as if it’ll start moving on its own

You angrily sigh, snatching it up before finally writing the text you’ve been thinking about sending

(F/N): Hi

Bakugo: what do you want?

Ouch, for some reason that hurts a little after not talking in so long. You know not to take it too seriously though, you’re just glad he replied so fast

Bakugo is also mentally smacking himself for saying something like that right off the bat

(F/N): I was just wondering…

(F/N): Can we talk?

The boy stares at the message, of course he does, the awkward silence that’s been going on between the two of you has been miserable even if he didn’t want to admit it. He scoffs, finally deciding to reply after a few minutes

Bakugo: Ok

(F/N): okay! you want me to go to yours?

Bakugo: That’s fine

Bakugo: Actually, meet me on the roof in 10

Bakugo throws his phone down. He shoves his face into his pillow, screaming

He had no idea what to expect

Heading up to the rooftop, he’s surprised to find you there waiting for him first. He stands there for a moment, watching your hair flow in the gentle night breeze. You’re holding your knees up to your chest, shivering. You were cold

He scoffs, shrugging off his zip up hoodie

You’re shocked when a soft, warm fabric drapes your shoulders. Looking up, Bakugo is looking away from you “dumbass, you didn’t bring a sweater? if it weren’t for me you’d freeze to death” you giggle, exceedingly happy to finally hear him speak to you again

“Hello to you too” he ignores your greeting, taking a seat next to you to enjoy the view as well

“What’s wrong with you?” He speaks up after an uncomfortable few minutes of silence, you sit up straight “Me?! What’s wrong with you?!” Bakugo’s eyebrows furrowed and he shouts back “there’s nothing wrong with me idiot!” He turns to glare at you but he’s surprised when his eyes are met with your smiling face. He looks away “the hell you smiling for weirdo?” You notice the pink tint on the tip of his ears

“I guess.. I just missed you” now it’s his turn to sit up straight, he feels chills run up his body but he equates it to the coldness of the night

He says nothing at first, before looking back at you. You’re now looking up at the sky, a content look on your face. Your eyes are sparkling, and your skin is glowing. He shakes his head, not wanting to think of anything like that before you break the silence again

“the moon sure is beautiful, hm?”

Damnit. Once again, bakugo is speechless. Did you really say that?

He’s brought back to a moment in grade school

~~~

“I’m gonna confess to the person I love just like that!” You point at the movie the two of you decided to watch, bakugo looks at you in disgust “ew I did not need to know that you freak” you pout “come on wouldn’t it be so sweet?!” He shoves your face away from his as you swoon “whatever just get off me” you pout once again

~~~

He’s brought back to reality by the way you turn to look at him once more. This look in your eyes makes him feel uneasy, unfamiliar, but he can’t look away.

“yeah.. I guess”

Your eyes sparkle, you look back up up to the sky before mustering up the courage

You grab his hand that’s next to yours

He doesn’t do anything, he stays there, still as a rock before you speak up again

“I know you heard what me and the girls said that night” he meets your gaze, and you’re giving him a serious look that almost freaks him out but he lets you continue

“I didn’t want that to change our friendship, but I guess I was too scared that you’d hate me-“

“In what world would I hate you?”

His voice is so soft it makes your heart beat skip, and now it’s your turn to be freaked out about the serious look in his eyes

“Well I- uh. You see-!” You slap yourself, bakugo is taken aback and is about to question you until you finally say what you’ve been wanting to say for years

“Bakugo Katsuki, Im in love with you!”

There it is. That determined look in your eyes that the boy has never gotten sick of, your breathing is heavy and you’re avoiding eye contact at all costs, but you did it. You fucking said it

“I realized it after we stopped talking, I mean how stupid and cliche is that huh? You never know what you have until it’s gone? God what’s wrong with me, I just needed to tell you because it’s better to try you know?! I don’t wanna fuck up what we have, I mean shit it’s been so long you know. God I ruin everything I’m sorry forget I-“

“Stop talking, you sound like that stupid Deku, god you need to stop hanging around him so much”

You freeze up. You peek a glance to bakugo, he’s kept the same serious look on his face

“You didn’t even give me a chance to reply, dumbass”

His grip on your hand tightens, and he intertwines his fingers with yours. You stop breathing

“I don’t know shit about.. love.. or whatever, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, I can’t place it but the way you.. god, ugh..” he grits his teeth, his cheeks tainted pink, eyebrows furrowed and clearly angry but embarrassed

“God damn it (F/N) you drive me fucking crazy! It feels fucking stupid to just call it some dumb shit like love, it’s like you’re messing with my head all the time, I don’t fucking understand these.. these.. shit! you-” he meets your gaze, and his own softens

“I just can’t.. lose you, yknow?”

So he feels the same way you do, then. you lean your head on his shoulder, and he doesn’t back away

“You’d never lose me, Katsuki” the use of his first name makes his stomach flip. He wants to stay like this

He wants more moments like this

“We.. we don’t have to rush things, and I won’t force you to share your feelings with me, I think that’s something you should figure out on your own” he scoffs, he doesn’t need to figure shit out

“(F/N)” he says your name matter of factly, you lift your head to look up at him before you feel something soft on your lips

Your eyes go wide, you stiffen up until his hand grazes your cheek gently. As if he was scared you’d break under his touch. You shut your eyes, trying to relax into the kiss

Shakily, you snake your arms around his neck, and he deepens his embrace

Passion, fear, so many emotions and words that could never be said were being spoken through this moment. Everything he’s wanted to say to you, you could feel through the way his lips enveloped your own, the way he gently caressed your back in a comforting manner. All of his feelings, you understood

He’s the one who separates first, you’re left in a daze as he avoids your eyes once more

“That’s all you’re getting out of me, don’t expect more” you giggle, making bakugo look back at you

“Don’t fucking laugh at me you little-“

“Bakugo” he stops, looking at you skeptically, you smile back at him “from now on.. let’s just be us, no more holding back, no more secrets” you tilt your head at him, the gesture makes his own heart skip a beat and his palms are sweatier than usual

“Y-yeah.. whatever I don’t fucking care”

He gives your hand a squeeze “one day, when im number one,..” his red eyes pierce your own “I’ll make you mine, you got that?” You nod, a little flustered at his declaration before gathering up even more courage than before

“What’re you-“ you cut him off with a kiss to the cheek, then a kiss to the forehead, bakugo is getting increasingly more red by each kiss you place on his face and you back away to look at him. he’s got that same scowl on his face that’s a touch softer “the hell was that-“ you cut him off again with a kiss to the lips once more

This time, hes the one who’s frozen in shock, you cup his cheek in your hand, deepening the kiss slightly before you break it. Bakugo almost wants to pull you in for more but all he can give you is a blank expression as you whisper in his ear

“I’m already yours”

He can’t even muster up any words before you’re standing up, pretending like your face isn’t on fire . “Okay! Let’s head inside it’s getting too cold, how about I make us some tea yeah?” He just watches intently as you make your way to the door before following you, wordlessly he grabs your hand as you continue your speech about the different types of teas and what he’d like. You smile when he grabs your hand again, and he smiles when you squeeze his gently

…

“Aw man I lost!” When the door shuts, 4 people emerge from various hiding spots amongst the roof

Mina saunters over to the three boys before holding out her hand “pay up losers” she sings to them, begrudgingly the three place several yen dollars into her hand

You were the one to confess first, after all, looks like her and Kaminari’s sleepover plan worked

~~~

“I’m glad you and kacchan are back to normal, (f/n)” at lunch, about two weeks after the roof incident, you’re sitting with midoriya, you give him a happy look, nodding “yep! better than ever me and him” you can’t stop the blush from forming on your face, you’re saved by a familiar voice

“Oi (F/N)” you look up and grin, he stands there with his scowl. Usually, you’d get up and follow him to eat lunch alone together, but this time you decided otherwise

“Let’s sit here today Katsuki!” You beam at him, he wants to argue with you but he decides it’s not worth it, he groans before pouting as he plops in the seat next to you, you smile “wow, no yelling today bakubro?” Kirishima smirks at bakugo, before Bakugo can retort, Kaminari, unfortunately, starts up again

“You two sure are close nowadays~” Bakugo glares daggers at Kaminari “mind your business you rat” his fist slams the table. under the table, you feel his hand take yours, entwining your fingers “nothings fuckin changed” he mutters. you glance at him, smiling as he begins to eat his food

The conversations moves forward, and throughout Bakugo, or you, have yet to let go of the others hand, like it’s naturally this way as you speak amongst your friends

‘Yeah…’ you think to yourself, stealing glances , admiring his crimson red eyes, his spiky blonde hair, and the way he sends quick retorts back to your other classmates when they annoy him

He glances at you, admiring your infectious laugh, your soft hair, your glowing aura, you

Yeah, nothings changed

End

____

Sorry about spelling mistakes I did not realize this would be this long, I thought of the sleepover thing and thought it would be funny and then boom it spiraled out of control

Hope you enjoyed! This is my first time posting a oneshot here so im kinda nervous pls be nice to me ;-;

[mystxmomo]

Some design thoughts for Enclave in her Church of Eilistraee Era.

First of all, I want to thank everyone for giving me links to design stuff on this post. It was actually a massive help for gathering the direction that I wanted to go with this. I've placed some (long) general musing's I had while drawing this under the cut.

So. Originally, I wanted to play with this design note from Ed's twitter that you can find on the wiki:

"...Eventual cloaks, scarfs, shawls, and other over-the-shoulder garb was usually dyed midnight blue, and sparkled with tiny glitters, to resemble a starry sky..."

However, the phrasing of it really interested me. "Eventually" implies that this is a fashion style that might be pretty recent in development. Given that Enclave was working within Eilistraee's church in the God Given Faerun year of *squints* 1115, I decided to go with a few simpler styles that focused more on the silver-y, loose fitting outfits that are described in the 2e era content. I think, going forward, having this fashion divide of the "older era" vs the "newer era" could be really interesting, especially given the larger changes the church seems to go through down the line as a result of the masked lady era.

That's besides the point of why Enclave is here today, however. Today, she is a spy, and specifically spying on Eilistraee's church while she's still with Lolth.

All of the clothing here are things that can be "Easily slipped off," So to say. The first outfit is a loose-fitting dress that would fall off the second the clip is undone, the bulk of the fabric on her hunting gear is held together by intricate knots or through being held into place by the leather, and her furs are just like... a blanket. She's naked under there. But she IS comfortable and warm.

(While I am someone who is all for normalizing nonsexual nudity, clothing DOES have purpose outside of self-expression. + I also think, with communities like the church of Eilistraee, it's important to take into account that a casual worshiper or someone that grew up in the community probably isn't going around naked as often as the clerics themselves are. Even if I do imagine casual nudity is, nonetheless, pretty accepted.)

I wanted all of the colors to feel a little washed out. Even the leather of her equipment and the furs that she wears to sleep are a lighter shade than the equipment she keeps down the line.

While I liked some of the more elaborate pieces that got linked to me on the aforementioned post, Enclave is ultimately someone who feels more comfortable in practical clothing that's easy to move around in with minimal ornamentation. This is also something that pops up in her later design, as the designs that are both the most tight-fitted and ornamented are the clothing she tends to wear in her lolth-era. So I decided to go with some simpler outfits.

Finally, a lot of the details that I added here were purposefully done to have her stick out (From a symbolic design perspective.)

- She always has her hair styled up. Of course, in-universe this has practical application of being ways of keeping it out of her face. But out of universe, it's a way of separating her design from the churches expectations. Though she ends up growing her hair out, she never quite ends up wearing it the way it's expected to be, because she never quite ends up comfortable enough within the church to do so...

-The blue's that her pants use in her hunting uniform, while inline with Eilistraee's navy blue, is the same blue that is used in her lolth-era shirt. The colors of her true allegiance, while covered by the bulk of the outfit, are still showing through.

-Finally, the equipment she uses while on one hand accepted in Eilistraee's churches (as the bow with silver-tipped arrows IS described being things her community uses) is not their preferred equipment. It is also, however, not her preferred equipment either. While she knows how to use them, she has always been someone that prefers smaller, bladed weapons. Not only does she not entirely fit into the church, she isn't comfortable with the gear she has either...

-However, her influence within Eilistraee's church also ends up shining through when she returns to Lolth's church full time. She keeps her mostly down, with minimal styling. Likewise, the colors of the clothing she wears within lolths church are lighter than anyone she's surrounded herself with. In many ways, she never quit seems to fit in any of the communities she puts herself into, always a little influenced from the place she came from before....

[serpentface]

How do the Wardi like their tobacco? Smoked in a pipe, in a room, a classic cig? They've got so many different kinds too, is the use commonplace or more just for certain occasions/people?

The variety of smoke delivery methods stem in part from the biggest external cultural influences/movements of people into the region. The proto-Finnic and proto-Wardi peoples both had long established use of smoking pipes prior to first contact, though the former mostly made pipes from bone or wood and the latter mostly made pipes from bone or clay (the former also Probably brought cultivated tobacco with them as they dispersed, but this strain appears to have gone extinct and smoking broülje (adapted as ‘birolge’) is now preferred amongst most Chenahyeigi-speaking peoples). Burri influence introduced the concept of the cigar/cigarillo, either smoked on its own or with a bone/wood/clay/reed/metal holder, though the leaves of the native janaët are a little too small for neat wrapping and this never fully caught on. Yuroma migrants brought traditions of reed or wooden tubes that were stuffed with the ground leaves and smoked that way, often elaborately carved and/or decorated with beads.

First: Ceramic pipe shaped like a man smoking a pipe shaped like a man smoking a pipe. Second: Ceramic pipe shaped like the front half of a khait. Third: Simple painted wood pipe with 'legs'. Fourth: Imported Burri cigar and holder made to resemble maize (top view). Fifth: Yuroma style beaded reed pipe, meant to be stuffed with tobacco for smoking. Can also double as a cigarillo holder.

The most common Wardi smoke delivery method is still the pipe, usually ceramic, wood, horn, or bone. The typical style is long and straight, with even the simplest pipes usually having ‘legs’ so they can rest upright and potentially double as incense burners. Ceramic pipes with decorative figurative elements are popular but very fragile, often reserved for special occasions or to be used as grave goods. These are intended to be smoked with two hands to support the bottom-heavy weight, and are too fragile to transport and usually kept at home. The simple but effective reed tube has become increasingly popular (mostly among peasantry) for its ease of transportation, and the practice of carving and beading reed pipes is retained in the Erubinnosi subculture. The highest quality imported Burri tobaccos are transported already in cigar form. These are luxury items and usually smoked with holders, which are status symbols/fashion items/potential backup weapons in Bur but mostly novelties here.

As mentioned in the other post, tobacco is considered to be a potent medicinal herb that energizes the body and calms the mind via ‘strengthening’ the heartbeat and encouraging healthy bloodflow, and used in a large number of medical treatments. It is commonly chewed for energy during physical labor, which is also considered a medicinal use (though is often functionally recreational). There’s no proscriptions against purely recreational use, though non-medicinal smoking of tobacco is intended to be something worked into the schedule/formal occasions/social life rather than something you do whenever the hell you feel like it, and a degree of thoughtfulness, moderation, and gratitude in this act is expected.

Recreational smoking usually occurs in the evening after daily bathing, and is considered to be a social activity and mildly weird to do alone. Sharing a pipe is a common ice-breaker with strangers, often being used to initiate formal meetings and introductions. It is most commonly done after dinner (considered to help aid digestion) while still seated with one’s family/guests, with a pipe being passed around to everyone present (aside from very small children, though most people allow their kids to at least Try to take a drag starting around the age of 5). One of the expectations of hospitality in the as hachoäm code of virtue (will get to a post about that someday) is that tobacco (or broülje) should be offered to guests along with food and wine.

Tobacco is usually smoked with full inhalation, rendered less severe for recreational use via cutting with other herbs. Most tobacco blends include pleasant smelling dried herbs and flowers, commonly camiche, rose, lavender, or catnip. Medicinal blends are often cut with other herbs too as necessary, though you're rarely going to be lucky enough to be prescribed something that smells good and goes down smoothly.

There’s a grand total of 10ish strains of tobacco (from three total different species) at least Accessible via trade, though only a few are actually grown here on any significant scale. Most of these are received from Bur and from the Dehiamenmanwe league of Yuroma city-states, though other tobaccos are Occasionally obtained from other eastern seaway/White Sea traders. The imported strains vary in expense/ease of acquisition from ‘special occasion for a commoner’ to ‘special occasion for nobility’. Most Yuroma-derived strains are the former (many of them can be grown here, though not at enough scale to meet demand) and all of the Burri-derived strains are the latter (none grow well here and are almost exclusively acquired as imports). Accessibility also depends on whether you live in/adjacent to a coastal city that receives these trade goods. If you live far inland and away from any major river/land trade route, smoking foreign tobacco is likely to be a once in a lifetime occurrence, if ever.

Two separate Nicotiana species are grown in and imported by Bur. The zhisequi tobacco is native in part to Kosov. It has a higher nicotine content than janaët but is not Overwhelmingly strong, with most users finding it to be potently energizing while also having a calming mental effect. It is mostly used recreationally, though it is also assigned the same (but Stronger) medicinal effects to janaët. It’s pretty expensive even IN Bur (largely a hot-summer mediterranean climate) because it only grows well in year-round humid conditions (such as the montane forests found in parts of Kosov), and is an a luxury item in Wardin. The average person (on the coasts) can afford to smoke it maybe once a year AT MOST, and it’s commonly reserved for new year’s celebrations. It’s more accessible to the nobility, but even then is treated as a special-occasion smoke, with janaët being more appropriate for everyday use.

Choqui tobacco is from the tropics, though arrived in Bur several hundred years ago and is now the most widely cultivated form of tobacco there. It adapts well to these subtropical conditions and can handle cool winters, but cannot survive wholly dry summers and is thus very difficult to cultivate in Wardin on more than tiny scales. It has a Very high nicotine content and taking a hit will generally cause a notable head rush, which a lot of the Wardi populace finds unpleasant and thus will extensively cut it down with other herbs. The fact that most Wardi smokers’ first instinct in trying a choqui cigar will be to take a full lungful and then almost DIE tends to be found very funny (the typical Burri method of smoking is to work through a cigar slowly, and the smoke is sucked into the mouth rather than inhaled). Choqui is notable for being the only tobacco widely recognized as having negative effects on pregnancies (this is not usually attributed to other tobaccos). In both Bur and Wardin, its use is discouraged during pregnancy, or alternatively Prescribed along with abortifacient herbs to better the chances of miscarriage when abortion is desired. This one is cheaper than zhisequi, but still much too expensive for frequent use and treated as a luxury.

The Yuroma city states have a very long history and wide scale of tobacco cultivation and have developed a variety of strains (originally derived from the same species as the janaët), some of which can be grown in parts of Wardin and some of which are too humidity-dependent and mostly received as imports. The Dehiamenmanwe league of city-states is the only one Wardin trades with on a regular basis, which supplies most of this tobacco (as well as, more importantly, turmeric and ginger).

The most popular Yuroma tobacco strains are uugai yashet (‘rice tobacco’) and uugai imeshli (‘horse tobacco’). Some of the former was first brought here by Yuroma migrants (along with rice itself) and is still widely grown in the semi-permanent marshlands around Erubinnos, but the average person receives it as an import. Uugai imeshli has a slightly higher nicotine concentration than janaët; uugai yashet is about the same but has a headier taste and is generally considered to smell better. They are less expensive trade goods than Burri tobaccos, in large part due to arriving via safer and easier White Sea coastal tradeways that operate year-round (crossing the Mouth seaway can be very hazardous in the winter, and there's more piracy going on in there). The average person can get ahold of Yuroma tobaccos and smoke them for special occasions multiple times a year (if living near the coasts).

The native janaët tobacco is, by far, the most accessible to the average person. It is widely cultivated and can be found growing wild, though has somewhat picky growing conditions and (while Relatively drought tolerant) is one of the first native cultivations to fail in prolonged droughts (though among the better-tolerant of rare flood years). It is less accessible and less hardy than the broülje plant (not a tobacco but a nicotine-containing shrub from a fictional Solanaceae subfamily) which is Not widely cultivated but is a mega-common wild shrub that tolerates a variety of growing conditions. Broülje has a lower nicotine content than the janaët and its smoke is generally considered to smell a bit unpleasant, but it forms the majority of the average person’s non-medicinal stimulant use. Most people will keep smoking mixes that are 2:1 broüje to janaët (plus other herbs) and will reserve pure janaët leaf for moderately special occasions (once a month, on holidays, when guests are visiting, etc).

[messyhairedhazeleyeddude]

‘ Blurry, Tired Eyes ’

A Drunk! Megumi Fushiguro x Male! Reader | SMUT |

A/N ; Yooooo, ngl, I’m running on zero right now yet I’m still doing this shit so sorry in advance. I don’t know how I honestly found the strength in me. It’s currently two in the morning and my ass is still up. Wide awake. So, I decided I was going to make this and finish it anyway. While staying up the entire night. Ain’t that fun? Anyway, here’s some random guilty pleasure prompt and peep the contents below.

Contents ; Masturbation, inexperienced reader, groping, drunk sex, praise, and daddy issues.

Dynamic ; Best Friends To Lovers

Sexual Dynamic ; Sub!Male!Reader | Dom!Megumi

P.O.V ; Second

Age range ; 18+ 21+

To be honest, you weren’t expecting this many people to show up after announcing the birthday party for Fushiguro. But, here you were, faced with an impending crowd all shoved up against one another, grinding and doing every inexplicable thing as they danced. I guess it’s what you get for entrusting Satoru with the planning.

This was the worst. You hated these types of celebrations and you knew Megumi hated them too. It didn’t help that you happened to be claustrophobic and everybody was sweating. Your face scrunched up, grossed out by the smell of liquor and onions. This was pure puke bait.

“And why the fuck does everybody have to be a whore?” You complained out loud before realizing you did so and watched a bunch of heads turn to look in your direction. That was not supposed to be said out-loud.

You took that as your cue to use your technique to disappear into the shadows and escape out of the situation by traveling to another place in the building. Although, it was extremely straining and gave you a headache once you made it into one of the hallways. Time to look for the birthday boy you’ve been trying to find all day.

Gazing up at the pictures that were hanging about, you looked over a couple that had your peers, hovering over to the stoic frowning Fushiguro who bore his eyes directly into the camera in the photo.

A small smile crossed your face, laughing a little at the memory of Itadori harassing the ravenette until he snapped just before it. Those two were always bickering back and forth, never giving each other a break, not once. It was entertaining to watch them chase each other around. Sometimes, joining in on it when it got out of hand. But, it was usually to hold Megumi back from killing the dumb guy.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself, maybe you also helped because you felt left out. The twinges of jealousy when Yuuji would get too close to his face or he’d get in a position with him that looked risqué. Either way, it formed a knot in your throat and you couldn’t help including yourself.

But, that couldn’t mean much. You figured it was because you were overprotective that this feeling frequently came to mind. Megumi had been your exclusive best friend for a couple of years by now. That had to be normal.

A part of you knew that there was more to it than what you were acknowledging. Though, you didn’t want to elaborate on it. There was no point in figuring something like that out if you hadn’t even crossed the flirting stage. And you didn’t know if he was interested in men.

The noise of an object thudding on the ground in the nearby room knocked you out of your mind ramble, causing you to jump in surprise before narrowing your (E/C) eyes at the door. You could sense it wasn’t a curse so that was good. That didn’t mean you were any less curious about who it was.

As you walked toward it, you could hear sounds from the other side getting clearer and clearer. And they didn’t sound innocent. It was groaning and huffing, desperate too. But, not just from anyone, no. This was the familiar voice of the boy you were thinking about a second ago.

Like a hypocrite, your heart felt like it was about to break. ‘He couldn’t be hooking up with somebody, right?’ you worriedly asked in thought, a wave of emotions washing over you before another loud moan muffled through the wooden door.

There was no way you were going to stop yourself from figuring it out after that. Apologizing to Megumi under your breath, you reached for the door knob and opened it to something you never expected to see instead.

The raven-haired male was completely naked from head to toe, leaning over a trash can with his left hand placed on the wall while the other was rubbing up and down his shaft.

His hair was drenched with sweat, strands sticking to his forehead, and his chest glistened in the lamp light. There were veins popping from his arms, neck, and most of all, his dick. His thumb focusing on his tip every couple of pumps as he mumbled out questions, “Fuck, why do I have to get so hard? Why won’t it go away?”

‘Jesus, fucking, Christ,’ was the only thing you could think. You were watching your best friend touch himself, bare. And it wasn’t taking you much before you were struggling right alongside him. The front of your pants tightening and a bulge poking through the fabric.

He noticed your presence once he adjusted to fucking his hand and took a minute to process, his dark blue eyes slowly widening as he stared back at you. You didn’t say anything, choked up by anxiety. Leaving the two of you to stand in silence, waiting for either one of you to break it.

Megumi covered himself with the sweater resting on the desk near him, eventually speaking up while trying to shake off the shock of being caught, “How long have you been standing there?” A red hue spread across both yours and his cheeks as you struggled to make eye contact. How come he had the ability to be so direct even during something like this? It was a quality that you liked, regardless.

You answered him in a quiet voice, “It’s been a couple of minutes…” Lowering your head out of embarrassment but not looking away entirely. You had just enough access to see what he was doing. And in that peripheral vision, you saw his attention flicker downwards.

Quickly, you hid your hard-on with your hands. Although, Megumi knew exactly what that gesture meant so it wasn’t successful. You could tell from the way his eyebrows switched from furrowed to raised like he was surprised. Then how more silence followed.

Not a single chance in hell were you going to look directly at him again, not when he was staring you down like this. You were hoping, praying to god that he wouldn’t point fingers despite not believing in that which meant you knew you were screwed. Was your friendship finally going to end here? What did this mean for the rest of the friends that are connected to you both? Panic was settling in the more he let you stand there.

“Can you close the door? I want to talk to you,” he asked bluntly after what felt like forever and honestly, that made your fear worse. “Please don’t say we can’t be friends because of this,” you interjected before he said anything else and closed the door like he suggested.

Fushiguro laughed through his nose and grumbled as if he was offended that you thought that, “Why would I want to end our friendship because you caught me jerking off, [F/N]?” Hearing him say it so casual made you get the comfortability to look at him again, seeing that he was picking up his clothes and acting like nothing happened.

He let you watch him get dressed, his back facing you the entire time, but you got the whole show. How he snapped his boxers around his waist, the indents in his back as well as the scars, and how his hair sprung back up into the spiky hairstyle he loved to style it in after he pulled his shirt over his head. You didn’t mean to stare, but it was really hard not to when you secretly admitted the feelings you have to yourself. And you just saw him masturbating. You saw his…

Not trying to finish that sentence in your head, you moved on by walking over to an outlet in what appeared to be an old classroom and kneeled down next to it to plug in the charger you brought. Thank god, you have an excuse now.

Awkwardly snapping it inside of the lightning port of your phone, you left it resting on a windowsill and turned to face Megumi. He was back in the outfit you had given him for his birthday. A cerulean sleeveless top with black Nike sweatpants. It was simple, yet he made it look like gold.

“Are you going to answer or are you going to keep checking me out?” He tilted his head, those wolf-shaped eyes of his burrowing into yours and making you unable to pry them away.

Your breath caught in your throat and all at once, thoughts became jumbled and you couldn’t figure out a thing to respond with. He was acting so careless just a second ago but now, he was flat out telling you that he knew what you were doing. What was going on?

Megumi sighed and rolled his eyes, “You don’t have to tell me. It’s obvious you liked what you saw. Your dick’s been rock solid this whole time.” He nodded his head toward your lower half, causing you to choke on your spit, and sputter, “What? No! No! I’m just drunk…” You struggled to breathe and had to hit your chest to help yourself. Hopefully, this excuse will hold up.

But, it didn’t. The ravenette began to walk towards you, his abyssal blue orbs never leaving yours once while you froze there. Until he was right in front of your face and glancing at your lips. “That’s convenient. I’m a little tipsy myself…” he said softly, looking back up through his long eyelashes.

God, he was so beautiful. You were beginning to fall for his tricks already. But, you didn’t care about how fast you went for it, you cared about the fact he was showing interest.

The pretty boy pushed forward, his hands placing themselves on either side of your head as his nose connected with yours. Your breathing escalated. This was happening. It was happening. He was going to kiss you.

Your eyelids fluttered shut while both of your lips locked with one another. His lips softer than a cloud and the pressure enough to relieve the tension in you. You had been waiting for this for so long. The tugging between his mouth and yours. When his teeth pressed into your bottom lip or how his lashes brushed against your skin. He tasted like Sake and somewhat bitterly sweet like dark caramel. It was worth every ounce of waiting. Every bit.

His hair brushed with yours and the palm of his hand reached up to cup your cheek, moving it to the back of your neck over time. At some point, he needed to pull away for air and as he did, the two of you were back to locking eyes.

The way Megumi was staring at you gave you chills. It was like pure lust clouded over his expression. He was giving you that ‘fuck me’ look so obviously that it made your knees slightly buckle. To follow up with that, he went straight to the point by sliding down one of his hands to your bulge and groping it. His voice smooth like whiskey when adding, “Can I take these off?”

You melted like butter in his hands, instinctively bucking your hips into him and groaning with a nod. It was crazy how bad you wanted this. The damp spot of pre-cum on your boxers getting bigger and bigger the evidence of that.

Fushiguro unbuttoned and unzipped your pants easily, hooking his fingers in the loops to pull them down to your knees. He kissed your cheek and the side of your jaw while continuing down with them until he was at your neck, searching for a secret sweet spot.

Moans cascaded out of you bit by bit during his exploration, getting sharper around an area he kept brushing past. When he figured out where it was, he suckled on the skin and abused it enough to where a huge hickey rested there. He got your boxers off as well and the moment his fingers touched you, your hand grabbed his wrist and tightened.

“Fuck! Wait! I haven’t done this with anybody else before! This is a lot to take in,” you exclaimed, panting and looking down at the sight of your naked bottom half right next to his covered hard one. Sort of wishing that he didn’t put his clothes back on.

Megumi didn’t seem to be phased by that. Instead, he figured out what you were looking at and got to stripping them off too. Once he was in nothing, he gave a soft smile and reassured, “It’s okay, [F/N]. You can trust me with this. I just… I really need to do this with you.” It worked and made you relax your muscles, getting closer to him unconsciously.

Then he leaned forward and pressed his tip against yours, wrapping his big, rough hand around them before spitting on it. Pumping it up and down, matching the pace he was going for himself earlier, and using the same hand now that you mentioned it. Your head rested back into the wall as you grunted out what you were thinking impulsively, “Fuck, daddy.!” You weren’t trying to say it, you just did. Outing a kink to him that you swore no one would hear a single peep about. That was what you get for attempting something slightly not-safe-for-work with a guy you’ve had freaky dreams about.

You scanned his face for any small detail of him feeling disgusted, weirded out, all of the above; you found none of that. Rather, he was seemingly in awe from how his mouth parted. It shifted into him giving a small smirk, letting out the most sexually frustrated voice you’ve heard yet in a whisper, “Keep calling me that… And don’t you ever fucking stop.”

Shuddering, you were letting more and more noises go that you didn’t know you could make and he was savoring every single one. Moaning along with you, fucking his cock against yours, and smearing his pre-cum over the both of you like it was lube.

The sorcerer got impatient. He needed something better than this. He knew what he wanted, the idea felt so right to him, he couldn’t suppress the urge to. You were right there, perfectly laid out.

Fushiguro guided himself down, using one of his hands to grab your thigh and move you to the desk. You placed both of your palms behind you to support yourself, just as ready as he was, maybe even more. With a rush of dopamine, you got the courage to dirty talk back, “Please… I want you… Daddy.” The nickname was hesitated on, but that was because this was all so new to you. How could he be so comfortable with this?

As low as it was, Megumi was pleased with the request and bit his lip at the sight of you spreading your legs below him. He never would’ve thought he would get you like this and fuck, he wasn’t complaining. Hell, he felt lucky.

He positioned himself against you, but teased by rubbing in circles. Making sure that you were wet enough for him to slide in with no issue. That proved helpful as his dick inched inside soon after, easing all of it until he could feel himself so deep that it was close to your stomach. You were gripping onto his arms, one on his bicep, the other on his forearm. Squeezing harder than you ever had.

It hurt so fucking bad. Like he was ripping you apart and forcing your body to succumb to him. Tears brimmed your eyes and he noticed it, stopping and keeping himself there so you could adjust. ‘Fuck’, he mentally cursed to himself, ‘It’s his first… I’m his first.’ A part of him got excited repeating that, proud of it. “Shit, sorry… I’m sorry, baby… Tell me when you’re okay…” Megumi rambled while placing a tiny kiss on your lips to make up for the pain. Never fucking a guy had its drawbacks.

Eventually, you got used to the fullness and it eased away into the pleasure you’ve heard so many things about. You gave him the go by nodding and tightened your grip to get yourself ready. A shocked gasp jumped out when he did the first thrust. It felt amazing. Too amazing.

You begged for more, “Please, faster. I want it. I want you to destroy me…” Losing yourself to the feeling of his huge dick fucking in and out of you, your cries got louder and desperate. Especially when his hand went to wrapping around your shaft to stimulate you even further. The pumping, the ramming, and his growls from his own enjoyment with your body all crashed down onto you.

Your edge was nearing, rushing at you with full speed, and coming closer by the minute as Megumi buried himself to where you could feel his tip poking out of your stomach. You cried out in pleasure, “Gumi! Fuck! You’re too deep…!” Arching your back and rolling your eyes, your dick started to twitch.

He chuckled and went faster with his hand, pumping the cum out of you basically and letting it explode onto your chest. It covered the majority of your lower half and dripped down as he continued to ram you into the desk. More sputtering out while he was fucking the high out of you. Your eyes were lazily closing, your mind becoming numb and dumb from the overstimulation.

Moans were blending together as your body threw a fit, digging your nails into any skin you could. He held you tightly there so you wouldn’t escape, doing you so hard now that it was sounding like everything was going to collapse underneath you.

Fushiguro praised you throughout this as an apology, “God, you feel so good… I can feel you holding me there inside… Like you want me to fucking breed you, [Y/N]..!”

That sent another orgasm over you and caused your cum to spill everywhere again, your legs sticky with it at this point. But, he kept going. He was so close. Right there.

The raven-haired man clawed at the edges of the desk when he was reaching cloud nine, thrusting in hard and passionate. He made sure to fuck his seed inside of you until it was like you were being bred by him. You knew you couldn’t conceive, but it sure as hell would be the case if you could. His muscles stopped tensing the moment he was done and he let out a satisfied sigh that was rare to hear, “If I knew sex with you was going to be that good, I would’ve made you my boyfriend sooner.”

With a peck on the forehead, he pulled out of you and let you catch your breath. ‘Boyfriend? He called me his boyfriend?’ that was all that could repeat in your mind as he walked over to where your clothes were scattered to clean. When everything was put away and he wiped up most of what he could off of the both of you, Megumi decided to have you come home with him. Walking out of the classroom together, he excitedly chimed, “Thanks for the birthday present, [F/N]!”

[storiesabouteli]

There He Was. // Elijah Hewson X Reader! (Fluff)

prompt: just a short fic about u2 (i'm sorry lol) realizing they're in love after you've had a bad date.

words: 1,8K.

  Your elbows had the marks from Ali's table edge, and she watched you carefully, as if she understood but didn't judge. You were afraid of going home and facing a different reality, so you sought refuge at Eli's house. Your chest felt heavy, though no tears fell, just brief moments of misty eyes that quickly faded.

 "Did he treat you badly?" Her voice was firm, maternal. She gently rubbed your shoulders and placed a glass of water in front of you. Ali had known you since you could remember and always seemed to understand what you needed, even if she didn’t say it outright.

 "It was strange. He treats me well when we're alone, but the problem is when we're with others." You didn’t elaborate much, not fully certain of your own feelings, or maybe you just didn’t want to be. Ali nodded, showing she was there for you. Your eyes drifted down the hallway as you questioned why you ended up there after such a terrible date. The picture of Eli on the wall reminded you of his first girlfriend and how he used to take time during band rehearsals to explain inside jokes to her, ensuring she felt included. You longed to be treated like that, to be cherished. But instead, you had someone who seemed tired of you in public.

 "Hey," Eli’s voice startled you, making you smile softly amid your inner chaos. His voice was rough and slow, probably because he was getting ready for bed. "What’re you doin’ here?" he asked, surprised. His oversized shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his pajama pants made him look like he was begging for a hug, especially with his messy hair.

 Ali glanced between the two of you, giving Eli room to sit next to you. As she left the room with a soft kiss on your forehead, you realized you and Eli were just staring at each other—not in an awkward way, but not entirely normal either. You felt a knot forming in your throat as you admitted, "I don’t think he really likes me."

 Eli sighed, adjusting in the chair beside you, his shoulder touching yours. The small gesture lightened the weight in your chest. "What did he do?" His voice was more alert now as he gently brushed your hair from your face, looking at you as if the situation were more serious than it seemed. Eli tolerated him out of respect for you, but it was clear he never liked the guy.

 "Nothing, I’m fine," you swallowed hard, but Eli's raised eyebrows made it clear he was waiting for you to go on. You felt stupid—you should have seen it coming. There was a reason he avoided you in the hallways or didn’t walk with you near his friends. He was older, attractive, and sweet when you were alone, but you had been just a distraction for someone you thought you could rely on longer.

 "You were so excited to go out with him today. I’m sorry it wasn’t what you expected." The tears returned, blurring your vision. You had never gone out with anyone before, but you had spent years watching Eli go through relationships, each one seeming good in its own way. You thought you could have the same, that it would be a positive experience. You craved the experience, not necessarily the person.

 Eli lightly held your hand, tracing it with his thumb. He was patient, despite his clear restlessness. "It was a mess. I thought I’d meet his friends, make new ones, and that it would be fun, you know? But..." You trailed off, watching the soft light in the room and Eli’s familiar curls from childhood, feeling a warm sensation in your chest. You continued, describing things Eli had never made you feel.

 "I ended up alone most of the time. He’d ask me to wait, disappear, and then come back like nothing had happened. The only interaction we had was when he made a vulgar comment about my outfit, and his friends laughed with him. It was so embarrassing. I don’t even know how I got into this situation," you chuckled weakly. "I don’t want to see him again, Eli."

 He scratched his chin, exhaling heavily, unable to hide his irritation. It wasn’t an overreaction—you knew him well. "I feel a bit stupid, and I should’ve paid attention when you didn’t like him," you admitted. Eli looked at you with a faint smile on his lips.

 "Him being an idiot isn’t your fault, and his behavior is just a reflection of his bad character." You hadn’t expected Eli to throw an "I told you so" in your face, but he proved to be exactly the person Eli had hinted at when he first commented about him. You had been blind, assuming those comments were more about how you’d spend less time with Eli now that you had someone else to hang out with.

 Eli stretched out his arm, pulling you toward him. Your head fell onto his shoulder, your cheek resting against the soft fabric of his shirt, his scent soothing you. You lifted your head briefly, meeting his caramel eyes fixed on you, and it felt right to be there. Resting your head back, you wrapped your arms around his waist, falling silent.

 Eli looked at you for a long moment, wondering how much the guy had hurt you. You had been happy to have someone new, but your conversations always circled back to the same issues, and Eli knew that no matter what you said, nothing would change. He noticed the waves of your hair, the makeup accentuating your eyes, and the form-fitting dress. He couldn’t remember when he first started thinking of you like this, but he realized now that you were beautiful—and maybe this wasn’t the first time he had caught himself contemplating it. The yellow jacket you wore made him wonder if it was a response to the jerk’s comment.

 He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You were always so talkative around him, so your silence bothered him. It made him want to fix things, as if he couldn’t bear to see someone he cared about so much feeling down.

 "Are you stayin’ here tonight?" he asked, eyes closed, still holding you.

 "Can I?"

…

 You could still feel his rings brushing against your fingers, a familiar, comforting sensation, much like the freckles on his face, which even in the moonlight seemed to exist just for you. Eli couldn’t sleep. You stayed in his bed while he settled on a mattress on the floor beside you, and the scent of you on the fabric brought him a quiet sense of peace. The silence spoke volumes, both of you knowing exactly what the other was thinking without uttering a single word. The next day dragged on, unremarkable yet heavy. You didn’t see him in the morning—you left for work right away. But you were glad to have seen Ali, thanking her for having welcomed you the night before and for making Eli in '99 so he can be good company for you these days.

  Ali’s warm embrace, her knowing smile—things you hadn’t realized you’d been craving for so long—left you wondering how long you had been blind to it. As you sorted through a stack of new CDs, deciding which ones to keep and which to shelve, the day felt oddly clear, as if a veil had been lifted. It dawned on you: your relationship with him wasn’t about seeking the experience you thought you wanted, but the experience you truly needed—with Eli. This wasn’t some fleeting teenage desire to kiss him passionately; it was deeper. You found yourself thinking about him all day, anticipating the next moment you could be near him because his presence simply made you feel good. And now that you realized it, you knew it wasn’t the first time you’d felt this way.

 Sure, you wanted to kiss him, but more than that, you wanted to rest your head on his shoulder, nap while he kissed the top of your head, and feel his fingers gently brushing your arm. The guys from last night came into the store, acting like they didn’t know you. Maybe they didn’t remember, but it didn’t matter—you felt out of place standing there in your uniform, weighed down by memories of the night before. You heard there had been a fight involving him, and you didn’t feel bad hoping the worst for him. They paid without looking you in the eye, and you became aware that was all they had to offer—nothing.

 You didn't like your uniform, that made it worse at that very moment, and then your thoughts drifted to Eli. He’d see you like this. He had seen you countless times before wearing that thing, but now you wondered—had he ever thought of you as more than just a childhood friend? Even with the mucus, bad uniforms, showing up with problems in the middle of the night, and poor taste in partners? As if summoned by your thoughts, there he was. 

 Eli walked into the store, head down, hair covering his face. Straightening up, you smiled at him, trying your best to look decent. "Did you bring food?" you asked, reaching for the bags in his hands, already greasy. He nodded, "Thought burgers and fries might brighten your day." You smiled, taking them in your hands, and noticed how his mood lifted to match yours. He could easily feel happy if you were.

 He lingered by the counter, giving you a shy smile when you turned to face him. You stared at him, noticing the redness around his eye—not a big mark, but sure to get worse with time. You couldn’t picture Eli in a fight; it wasn’t his nature, nor was he built for it. Asking him what happened would be pointless—you knew the answer, and he would deny it. Wiping your fingers, you walked over to him, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. "Was it bad? You’re not hurt more than this, are you?" Concern welled up, stinging your eyes. You've had the feeling of having him there for you when you needed him before, it was just more intense. He hugged you tighter, and you could feel his tension ease. "He’s worse off." You both laughed at it, as if it were mundane.

 You weren’t sure if it was true, but you couldn’t deny the satisfaction of imagining the jerk guy bruised. It was hard to believe anyone would do that for you, you were glad it was Eli. The thought crossed your mind—did he feel the same way? Has he thought of you like this before? His fingers traced soft circles on your back, his lips brushing your hair, his warm chest a steady comfort against your cheek as your breathing fell into sync. "Thank you, Eli, but don’t do something like that again. I prefer you in one piece." His laugh rumbled through you, and it made you calm. Eli had told his mother earlier that morning he wouldn’t let you go through more bad people before finding the good one. He thought, maybe, you’d be his next song if you’d only let him.

[banana-can-do-art]

(Spoilers for recent Nevermore update) I’m really sad that Ada died (or double died I guess, or technically it could still be fakeout and she might be good as the people in my comments have reminded me) before we got to really explore her as a foil to Will. Like I want to see her scream at him at the top of her lungs and hit him over the head with a chair for what he said in the nurse’s office scene and then I want them to become besties. Because even though they absolutely hate each other, Ada and Will have so much in common. Hence why they’re all over Monty. First off, Ada and Will are both absolute kiss ups. That’s shown pretty obviously by their behavior. However, they differ in the fact that Ada is kiss ups for her own gain. She mooches off of whoever has the most power in the room and then she ditches them when they’ve served their use to her. However, the whole ordeal also requires her to sacrifice her dignity. This is why she is able to dump Monty. However, Will on the other hand is not a kiss ups for manipulative purposes, he doesn’t kiss up to multiple people either, he has one specific person that he obsesses over and does the bidding of, that person of course being Monty. He doesn’t do it for his own gain, he does it because he forms a codependent bond with someone who has power over him. However, both Ada and Will do this for similar reasons, that most likely being their trauma. We have a lot more to go off of as far as Ada’s backstory. Ada was a maid and she was taken advantage of by the people she served. Being needed made her feel special even though at the end of the day she was disposable. It is implied that his death was via some kind of betrayal. This is why she is a mooch and constantly trying to make her self useful to whoever the current object of her affection is. Will’s traumatic backstory is a bit more tricky because as of right now we pretty much know nothing. However, it is a clear theme within the story that even if the characters can’t remember what happened to them in life, they still carry the emotional weight of their trauma and it effects how they interact with others in death. There is no way that when we find out whatever Will’s backstory is that it won’t have anything to do with him being codependent with someone and being taken advantage of just like Ada. The way that Will behaves in the story absolutely implies this with his nervousness and undying loyalty to Monty who is a person who does nothing but hurt him. Also I wouldn’t be surprised if his queer identity comes into play here as well. Homophobia is a theme explored with the main girlies, Annabelle and Lenore, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they use Will’s backstory to parallel their’s as well. Especially since we know that Will hates women because he as a man is expected to like them and he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t. Which is played as a joke but it is clear that he has crafted some elaborate narrative in his head about why women are evil rather than just except the fact that he isn’t attracted to them because he doesn’t want to come to terms with the fact that he’s gay. (Self hating gay misogynist man, so Ada will never put him in his place :(). Actually though, this does make me wonder if he had some sort of unresolved jealousy about a girl that took whoever he was having a codependent gay pining friendship with from him and he’s projecting his feeling about that girl onto Ada without even realizing it. Either way, these two are both extremely codependent due to trauma and have been taken advantage of and used by Monty and they totally could have learned to bond over it and now they never will and I’m mad about it!

[catscidr]

i woke up and got possessed by the urge to write the smut i wanted to ramble about yesterday. i have nothing else to say. you cant blame me for any of this. it was inevitable.

cw shameless smut, dottore x afab reader, brainrot rambling. he uses his fingers for a good cause °ᗜ°

working overtime was a chore. your bosses expected you to stay after hours to work on documents meant for the next day and you’d get judgemental looks if you didn’t stay in the office longer than you needed to. unfortunately for you, the knowledge that they might think lesser of you for not doing overtime was enough for you to stay.

apparently not many people shared the sentiment though, because when you finally look up from your computer screen to stretch your aching muscles, you’re met with deafening silence– aside from your shoulders cracking.

which isn’t to say that no one is in the office besides you, either. but you doubt zandik stayed behind because he cared about the managers judging him. he always seemed to move along his own schedule, placing more importance on work than relationships with… anyone. granted, it’s not like he was ecstatic to work at the office, but he was naturally good at whatever job the boss gave him. to other people it looks like he works hard, but really, he’s just doing the bare minimum. you don’t want to think that people are too dense to notice it, but at the same time you can’t really blame them; it’s not like it’s normal for overworked office employees to notice such little details about a coworker that doesn’t care for them.

though, ever since you and your cubicle neighbor got told off by the man himself, you’ve found yourself looking for him in crowds. when you take the subway on your way home you try to spot his icy blue hair amongst the sea of suits and blazers, when you attend office-funded outings at the bar you hope to find him sipping on the cheap beer they provide, and even now you’re subtly trying to catch a glimpse of him in the dim lighting of the office. your efforts usually end in failure, unfortunately- but not this time.

you always expect to see nothing but tired businessmen and women cramped in the subway, to see the same faces you greet every day of the week downing that cheap beer, and to see a myriad of black screens in the office.

you didn’t think you’d meet his gaze as he walked out of the boss’s office, completely inconspicuous but still harbouring that same aura of suspiciousness.

“you’re still here?” you ask before you can stop your lips from moving. sure it was currently three hours after hours, but speaking so informally to a senior could bode poorly for you at any time.

thankfully, he just chuckles as a response. but you notice how his lips immediately tilt back down to their original resting state, the lighting making it look like he’s scowling down at you.

“i had to take care of some personal business,” he says plainly, not elaborating further (and you think he would avoid doing so even if you asked). you nod, glancing down at your uniform to smooth it down nervously, suddenly acutely aware of how tired you must look. “well i hope you were able to take care of it without a… hitch,” you cough awkwardly.

sure you knew zandik well enough to not call him a stranger, but recently it seems like he’s been spending more time in your head than in the office. you blame his mysterious and brooding personality. “i understand why authors like to write mysterious love interests in their romance novels…” you think offhandedly, for no reason at all whatsoever.

his footsteps pull you out of your daydream, right before your mind drifted off to not-so-professional thoughts. pulling the rolling chair out from under the desk, zandik takes a seat next to you, crossing an ankle over his knee. you shuffle away to give him some space (to politely accommodate his long legs or to stop yourself from pouncing on him, you wouldn’t be able to tell).

“i appreciate the sentiment. but why are you still here? you work efficiently, i doubt you’re so behind schedule that you need to stay in the office for this long.” the words that leave his lips entrance you– the slight drawl, bordering on seductive, makes you swallow the saliva in your mouth. you shake your head, humbly dismissing his praise (though your brain buzzes at what else you wish he would say).

“i just had to take care of some… things,” you respond awkwardly, fidgeting with your fingertips as you avoid looking into his carmine eyes for too long. he hums, placing down the file he had been carrying around on the desk to cross his arms over his chest, expression unreadable aside from the corners of his lips tilting up ever so slightly.

“right. things,” he says, his tone deep, rumbling in your chest as your heart hammers into your ribcage. you’ve talked to plenty of coworkers over your time working here, but none have made you break a sweat from their mere presence.

“h-haha, yeah, things. um, how have you been? i want to apologize again for the other day, we really didn’t mean to pry into your personal life, we were just-“ zandik makes a tsk noise, “concerned for my wellbeing, of course,” he finishes. the ghost of a smile he wore vanished, leaving you with a feeling of dread and anticipation. “you’re not the only one looking out for your coworkers though, sweetheart. you don’t look too good yourself,” zandik says, raising a brow at you. you were all but shivering under his gaze, brows stopping the sweat that had started building up on your forehead from getting in your eyes. if anything, you looked worse than him. you barely register the pet name before he speaks up again.

“we can’t have you overworking yourself too much, can we? you’re one of out best employees,” he says your name softly, practically purring. the same thing you felt that morning came back tenfold– though this time you couldn’t possibly leave for a bathroom break to take care of it.

zandik approaches you like a wolf does with a rabbit, slowly and quietly, to reduce the chances of you fleeing the scene. he gets close enough that his knee almost grazes yours.

“what kind of senior would i be if i just let you go without offering any kind of help?” you knew it was a rhetorical question and he wasn’t expecting an answer, but you still try to muster up the courage to say something, anything.

“is there anything i can do to help?” he continues, tone sickeningly sweet, practically foreign on his tongue. but the more he speaks, the more you feel your resolve melt, the more he pushes your buttons until-

“you’re not very good at being subtle,” he whispers, placing the tip of his shoe right up against your clothed core. you keen, legs widening as if on autopilot, but back away into your chair to flee from the sinful sensation. his lips stretch into a grin, the same expression you played on repeat in your mind when you got off a night ever since he confronted you and your coworker.

“don’t run away now. your body is practically begging for me to touch you,” he coos, extending his slender leg to press his polished shoe right up into you again, pulling a whine out of your lips. you lick your lips and swallow the lump in your throat, scrambling to say something to save your dignity.

“y-you don’t know that. are you a… doctor or something?” you huff, trying to steady your breathing. he slides his foot up and down your panties, pencil skirt riding up the more you widen your legs. zandik laughs under his breath, eyes narrowing at you for a split second.

“yeah, i am. that’s what i do as a second job. i run an underground hospital and run unethical tests on desperate patients.” the words roll over you like drops of water on a chinchilla– even if you did listen to him though, you wouldn’t have believed him. “that’s why i can tell that your heart is pounding. that’s why i can tell that you want this,” he coos, leaning forward ever so slightly. you buck your hips unconsciously, chasing the feeling he oh so graciously was giving you.

“that’s not- mngh, ‘m not a pervert,” you whimper, throwing an arm over your eyes to hide your lewd expression. zandik only laughs at you, pulling back to stand up and lean over you, his lips right next to your ears.

he places a hand on your thigh, the other going between your legs to rub at your drenched panties. “oh but you are. getting this wet when i’ve barely done anything to you,” he purrs, middle finger gliding up to tease your clit. “just want me to take you right here, huh? my my, you’re so desperate.”

if you hadn’t taken care of your needs you would have come already, but even then you were still teetering on the edge of an explosive climax. his calloused, slender fingers slide up and down, teasing your clothed hole as it flutters around nothing. you try to close your legs to keep his hand steady but he swiftly brings one knee up to rest on the chair, keeping your legs spread. zandik takes ahold of your wrist with his free hand and pulls your arm away from your face as you turn your head away to hide.

“oh no you don’t,” he hisses as he grabs your face with one hand, cheeks squishing together to turn your head back to face him. “you’re going to look at me when you come.” your eyes flutter, thighs twitching as the coil in your lower abdomen threatens to snap. your gaze flickers down between your legs to watch his deft fingers toy with you, then drag up to look at the tent in his slacks. zandik tightens his grip on your face, forcing you to look up at him.

“are you fucked dumb already? i said don’t look away,” he hisses, eyes narrowing at you as he pulls your ruined underwear to the side to slide two fingers into your cunt. you squeal at the stretch, but you were so wet that you didn’t feel more than a pinch before you started moaning freely again. his thumb rubs tight circles over your clit as his middle and ring fingers pump into you earnestly. he curls them up to prod at the spongy spot inside of you, and your eyes roll back momentarily from the sensation.

“come on, i can tell you’re close sweetheart,” he coos, lips ghosting over yours, just away from reach. you whine and moan, hands gripping his flexing forearms as you feel your body lose control.

the sound of your pussy squelching in the otherwise quiet office throws you over the edge, your vision going white as you just barely make out zandik’s face while he makes you ride out your orgasm, adding a third finger inside of your cunt to stuff you full. all of his fingers stop but his thumb, still rubbing your sensitive clit as you twitch and jolt in pleasure.

“thaaat’s it, that’s my girl, ride it out,” he purrs, grinning down at you with a smug laugh. “took me so well,” zandik praises, curling his fingers up inside your used cunt. you thrash weakly, letting out a muffled ”‘s too much”. he continues for a few seconds before letting go of your face and pulling out his fingers slowly, looking down to admire the slick covering his hand.

“mmh, made a mess. gonna clean it up?” he asks coyly, bringing his hand up to your lips. you waste no time to lick it off, brows furrowing at the tangy taste. he pulls his hand away to lick it himself, holding eye contact with you as he goes over where you just cleaned him off. a shiver runs down your spine at the sight.

while you shut your eyes for a moment to catch your breath, he grabs a few tissues from the box on your desk and cleans the mess between your legs, pressing down on your aching clit on purpose to make sure you don’t fall asleep. you jolt, whimpering as you glare weakly at him, earning yourself a chuckle from the man between your legs.

“i hope you don’t think this is a one-time fling,” he whispers, tossing the used tissues in the bin under your desk. zandik pulls the edge of your skirt down to cover your messy thighs and straightens up, turning to leave. he palms his bulge, holding eye contact with you as you stare at his hand, feeling yourself get wet again.

“see you tomorrow.”

[azuresage]

It gets talked about a lot but I still can't stop nerding out about Link's characterization in TotK. It's done through his many creative dialogue choices and his expressions of course, but it's also done so subtly through what he *doesn't* say. Notably, he doesn't talk about himself. And this is why nobody recognizes him unless they've already met him. Because he doesn't tell them when they've got the wrong impression of him.

The meme about Link having Tony Hawk syndrome is so real. People will look at him and straight up say, "Wow, you look exactly like Link!" without a hint of irony. Lookout Landing has a detailed picture of his face in their watchtower and the search party still doesn't recognize him. Penn works with Link for a long time and thinks he's unlucky that the Yiga keep "mistaking" him for the Hero (granted, Traysi asked him to deliberately keep quiet, but Penn still didn't put two and two together himself). I think the reason for this, aside from it being really, really funny, is that Link just doesn't talk about himself. He doesn't feel the need to.

Characterization isn't just about what we see a character doing, it's also about how other characters respond to them. Link is so unassuming and humble that he doesn't match people's expectations of what "Link" should be like. The three Gerudo ladies hanging out around Outskirt Stable are one of many perfect examples. Link stands in front of them carrying the Master Sword, but they expect the Hero to be taller than they are, with a giant glowing sword, so they don’t believe it's him. Obviously that's not the reality, but they don't know that. Link doesn't correct them, either. Again, he doesn't feel the need to.

This is also why many NPCs from BotW don't recognize or remember Link. To them, he was just a passerby that did them a good turn once 6+ years ago. Nobody's going to remember a person like that for so long after. They had no way of knowing he was the Hero, unless it came up for story quest reasons. When they hear stories about the Princess's Appointed Knight who woke up from his 100 year nap, defeated the Calamity, and rescued Zelda, they imagine someone larger than life. Then when they see what Link actually is like, they can't put two and two together.

This is true even during the Hyrule Restoration efforts. Link always follows behind Zelda as her shadow, which she notes in her diary, but the people in the stable investigation quests and in Hateno don't recognize him either, even though he went everywhere she did. Link is just that unassuming. He resigns himself to being a shadow, allowing Zelda to take the lead and do as she pleases but always staying nearby to support and protect her. He doesn't need to be recognizable to do his job. And we know from both BotW and now TotK that he's wholly devoted to her. He's content with this. Many people more eloquent than I have spent many paragraphs elaborating on this. I just wanted to focus on what it says about his character.

Link is humble and unassuming, so much so that nobody believes that he's the Hero unless they already know him. He's devoted to Zelda, so much so that he's willing to do anything to chase even a glimpse of her. He doesn't talk about himself or correct people who have the wrong impression of him. He doesn't need to do that to chase his Zelda. He is a person of great humility in spite of his station. I think that's so interesting and neat how the comedy of him being unrecognizable also tells us all this about him. It's also cool how this is only one aspect of him; all the dialogue choices and expressions he makes during cutscenes and actions out in the world show a whole other, lighter side to him that meshes with this. It's all so good. I am in love with it. It always kills me inside when people dismiss his characterization as being nonexistant or flat just because it's not spoonfed to them or when they say Link being unrecognizable is lazy writing instead of a deliberate choice. I am biting and gnawing and gnashing over him and his relationship to Zelda. I love them so much.

[crumblekitten]

new years day

Luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 3k

Warnings: light angst, light fluff, spoilers for the ending of the lightning thief

what’s on the radio?: New Year’s Day by Taylor swift

Luke stood by the edge of Half-Blood Hill, his gaze distant as he looked out over Camp Half-Blood. The familiar sight of the cabins, the golden glow of the bonfire, and the laughter carried in the evening air used to be a comfort. Now, it only stirred something deep and raw inside him, an ache he hadn’t expected.

He turned as he heard footsteps approach, and there was you. His expression softened, but only slightly. He didn’t need to hide from you — maybe that was why he always ended up here when he felt this way.

“Didn’t think anyone would be up here this late,” he murmured, though he knew they both knew that wasn’t true. You had always been able to find him, even when he didn’t want to be found.

For a moment, Luke just looked at you, the tension in his jaw loosening just a little as he let himself take in the familiarity of your face, the way they looked at him. You had always seen something in him that no one else did. He wasn’t sure if it made him feel better or worse.

“Sometimes… it feels like it would be easier if you hated me,” he admitted, his voice low, as though saying it out loud made it more dangerous. “I keep telling myself that I’m doing this for the right reasons, that what I’ve done…” He trailed off, a flicker of pain passing over his face as he struggled to keep his voice steady. “That it’s worth it. But then I look at you.”

He paused, his hands clenching at his sides before he forced them to relax. “You look at me like I’m still the same person I was when we met. Like you still… care.”

Luke’s voice broke slightly, and he looked down, a bitterness edging into his words. “I don’t deserve it. I never did.” He swallowed hard, his gaze meeting theirs again, the brown of his eyes shadowed but somehow vulnerable.

“I can’t ask you to understand,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper now. “But I need you to know that this was never about you. That none of this… none of this is your fault.” “It’s not your fault either” you interject Luke’s head snapped up, his lips twisting in a bitter scoff. “You don’t really believe that,” he replied, a hard edge in his voice. “You don’t have the whole picture. If you knew… If you really knew what I’ve done, you wouldn’t be able to look at me the same way again.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the dark strands falling back into place, accentuating the sharp lines of his face. “I may not, but I do know that you wouldn’t do anything without thinking that it’s right.” Luke’s gaze darkened at your words, the sharpness in his eyes softening for a moment. He let out a deep breath, the sound almost weary.

“Right,” he repeated dryly, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “Is that what you’d call it?”

He looked away again, his knuckles white as his hands clenched back into fists. “Maybe it started out that way. But somewhere along the line… Things got twisted. The lines blurred. It’s not just about what’s right anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.” “What happened Luke, you’ve been off lately” Luke tensed at your words, the muscles in his jaw clenching. He didn’t immediately respond, his gaze distant as he thought about the question. What happened? Where would he even begin to answer that?

Finally, he huffed out a humorless laugh, his eyes meeting yours again. “Off. That’s one word for it. I’ve been… preoccupied.” He didn’t elaborate further, leaving the statement hanging in the air. he never bothered to tell you what he was going to do knowing that you would only try to convince him not to. And suddenly your hand touches his arm softly “with what?” The touch of your hand on his arm caught him off guard, and he flinched reflexively. He hadn’t expected the gesture, even though he should have. Luke looked down at your hand, the muscles in his arm tensing under your touch.

He was quiet for a moment, the silence between them filled with an unspoken weight. “Things,” he finally answered tersely, his voice low and avoiding their gaze. “Things that are… changing.” Luke was acutely aware of the way your touch grounded him, and he found himself craving the contact even as his pride told him he shouldn’t. He let your hand stay on his arm, the contrast of your gentle touch against his rough exterior stark.

He closed his eyes briefly, fighting back a shudder that had nothing to do with the cool evening air. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more strained.

“It’s not… it’s not something I can just talk about.” “Not even to your girlfriend?” it’s quite for a few seconds The word girlfriend hung in the air like a weight, and Luke bristled slightly at the way it made his chest tighten. Girlfriend, as if things were still the same. As if anything between you could be simple.

“Not even to my girlfriend,” he echoed, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “Not when it’s something you wouldn’t understand.” “What makes you think I wouldn’t understand?” Luke let out a humorless laugh, the sound rough and hollow. “Because the things I’ve seen, the things I’ve had to do… They’re not things that anyone else should have to understand.”

His expression darkened, the flicker of anger in his eyes betraying the pain that lay beneath. “You’re not involved in this. I don’t… I don’t want you to be.” “I want to be, whatever is going on you shouldn’t have to do alone, you know I would do anything for you” Luke’s breath caught in his throat, the raw honesty in your words searing through him. He looked at them, his own words catching in his throat. He knew you meant it. He knew you would follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked. And that was the problem. He couldn’t bear the thought of putting you in the line of fire, into the mess he had created. “I know you would,” he said finally, the words coming out rougher than he intended. “But that’s what scares me.” You rest your head on his shoulder and press a soft kiss to his neck, Luke visibly shuddered at the feeling of your lips against his neck, the simple gesture doing more to ease the tension than he wished it did. He swallowed hard, the pulse in his neck thrumming under your touch.

The cool indifference he had been trying to maintain melted away, replaced by a desperate need to have you close. He wanted to protest, to pull away. To do the right thing and protect you from the dangers that surrounded him. But he found himself powerless against your touch, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. “Come’on let’s have you forget about this for a while.” You take his hand and pull him towards the woods Luke let you steer him toward the woods, his steps faltering only briefly. He could feel the tension in his shoulders slowly loosening with each step, a strange sense of peace settling over him.

He didn’t ask where you were going, not that he really cared. All he knew was that for a moment, he could let himself be led by the hand, leaving his worries behind, even if just for a little while. there was a small hideout in a tree that Luke and you had built, it had a mattress inside big enough for two, a mini fridge and small trinkets the both of you didn’t trust to keep in the Hermes cabin, Luke’s eyes widened appreciatively as you entered the hideout. It had been a while since he last stepped foot in here, and the memories it brought back were a strange mix of nostalgia and melancholy.

He stepped inside, running a hand over the familiar objects scattered throughout the small space. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he took in the makeshift bed, the mini fridge, and the various trinkets you both had collected over time. You lay down on the mattress covered in miss matched blankets and pillows you and Luke had managed to sneak in, along with a few plushies that Luke had stolen as gifts for you. Luke’s lips curled into a more genuine smile as he saw the plushies and blankets, the sight of them a stark contrast to the hardened façade he had worn all evening.

He settled down next to you, the mattress dipping under his weight. Without a word he reached out and pulled you into his arms, holding you close. The tension in his body began to dissolve, replaced by a quiet kind of comfort that only you could provide. You turn on the fairy lights next to the bed to light up the small space and crawl next to luke The soft glow of the lights bathed the small space in a warm, golden light, creating a cozy atmosphere. Luke watched as you moved closer, shifting onto his side to make room and wrapping an arm around your waist.

He took in the sight of you in the soft light, the shadows dancing across your face, and found himself relaxing even more. For the first time in a long while, he felt… at ease. luke still can’t get his mind off of what he’s planning to do later in the day As Luke lay there, holding you in his arms, his mind inevitably drifted back to the events he had been trying to push aside for the night. Despite the peace he found in your presence, the weight of his intentions was difficult to ignore.

He tried to focus on the warmth of your body against his, the scent of your hair as his chin rested gently on top of your head, doing his best to keep his mind in the moment. But the thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone, nagging at the edges of his consciousness. You run your fingers through his dark curls The gesture pulled Luke out of his thoughts, and his eyes closed instinctively as your fingers moved through his hair. He melted into the touch, the sensation sending small ripples of pleasure down his spine.

He let out a low sigh, the tension in his body easing slightly. Your touch was like a drug, a soothing balm on the restlessness that always seemed to plague him these days. “Do you ever think we’re to be able to leave camp some day?” Luke's eyes opened again, his gaze fixed on a spot on the wall across from them as he considered the question. It was one he had thought about often, and the answer never seemed to get any clearer.

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound a little bitter. “Sometimes,” he admitted, the word coming out in a low murmur. “But it never seems like it’ll really happen. This place has a way of keeping you in its clutches.” “What’s going on you sound bitter, well more than you usually do.” Luke's eyebrows raised, his lips twisting up in a humorless smile. He had hoped he’d hidden it at least a little, but apparently, he hadn’t been as successful as he’d thought.

He exhaled slowly, his hold on you unconsciously tightening. “That obvious, huh?” He was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting back to the wall, the shadows cast by the lights dancing in his eyes. Luke was quiet for a few moments, his thoughts swirling in his head. He wasn’t used to opening up like this, used to shouldering his burdens alone. But there was something about your presence that made him want to let his guard down, just a bit.

Finally, he spoke again, his words soft, as though he was admitting a secret. “I am bitter,” he confessed. “At this place. At the gods who leave us to rot here. At the fact that some of our only choices seem to be ‘die, or stay here forever.’” “Not like we can do anything about it” Luke let out a harsh laugh, the bitterness in his tone evident. “That’s the problem, innit?” he responded, his jaw clenching again. “We can’t do anything about it. We’re stuck here, at the mercy of beings who should be guiding us, but instead, they abandon us. They let us fight their battles, let us die in their name, and then have the audacity to pretend they even care.” You cup his face and just look at him the shadows of the lights making his face even more beautiful “promise me something?” Luke’s expression softened as you cupped his face, the weight of your gaze holding him captive. He was taken off guard by the tenderness in your touch, and it made something tighten in his chest.

He swallowed hard, the bitter anger that had been in his eyes moments before being replaced by a vulnerability that only you could bring out in him.

“What is it?” “Don’t leave, not without me at least. Your starting to sound like your going to revolt the gods or something” Luke's eyes widened slightly at your words, a flash of surprise crossing his face. He hadn’t expected you to see through him so clearly, and he found himself both impressed and a little unnerved by your perceptiveness. He opened his mouth to respond, a witty retort on the tip of his tongue, but no words came out. Instead, he just looked at you, a mixture of emotions swirling in his eyes. Finally, he let out a deep sigh, the fight seemingly leaving him. “I won’t,” he promised, his voice a little rough. “Not without you.” Luke knew he couldn’t keep this promise, he already had plans to betray camp and start a new world, and you wouldn’t be with him for that. No matter how much he wanted you to be. Luke’s heart clenched at the promise, guilt gnawing at him. He hated himself for making such a promise, for knowing that he would break it sooner rather than later.

He knew that what he was doing was ultimately for the greater good, but that didn’t make it any less painful. He cared for you, deeply. The thought of leaving you behind was more difficult than he’d ever admit.

Luke tried to push the guilt aside, focusing instead on the feel of your hands on his face and your warm body next to his. You just smile at him, unaware of anything that was about to happen And to Luke it was better that way, less hurt that you would have to go through Luke’s heart tightened further at your smile, your blissful ignorance cutting through him like a knife.

He wanted to tell you. To confess his plans, his intentions, his desire to leave this world behind and start anew. Maybe you’d understand, maybe you would support him. But the fear of your disapproval, your anger, held his tongue.

Instead, he returned your smile, trying to keep his own emotions in check. He reached for your hand, holding it tightly in his own. You kiss his forehead and snuggle closer to him, eventually falling asleep on his chest Luke held you closely as you laid your head on his chest, the steady rise and fall of his chest a silent comfort in the dimly lit hideout. He watched as you drifted off to sleep, your breaths slowly evening out. The sight of your peaceful sleep only made the guilt that was gnawing at him stronger.

He pulled you a little bit closer, the feel of your body against his a bittersweet comfort. He closed his eyes, his thoughts swirling with guilt, love, and the decisions that lay ahead. Luke gently detached himself from you, careful not to wake you as he got up. He took a moment to cover you with a blanket, his gaze tender as he looked down at your sleeping form. For a moment, he almost reconsiders, almost crawls back down beside you, but he pushes the thought aside.

He leans down, placing one last soft kiss on your forehead, before turning and carefully exiting the hideout.

***

The sun's first light pours through the windows of the hideout, casting soft shadows across the room as you slowly wake up. You reach out, expecting to find Luke beside you, but your hand only meets cold sheets. Confused, you sit up, bleary eyes scanning the empty space next to you.

Luke is nowhere to be seen, the only trace of him the indent in the sheets where he had lain the night before. You throw on one of his old jackets that had been laying on the floor and walk back to camp. The walk back to camp, still wearing Luke’s jacket from the night before, is a quiet one. You can hear the hustle and bustle of the other camp members waking up, the sounds of the morning routine drifting through the air.

As you approach the familiar buildings of Camp Half-Blood, you can't help but wonder why Luke isn’t with you. Why he left in the night without telling you. The news about Luke’s attempt to kill Percy Jackson spreads through camp like wildfire, leaving you stunned and distraught. The realization that Luke not only left you alone but also lied and broke his promise hits you like a punch to the gut.

Confusion, hurt, anger, and heartache all swirl together inside of you as you try to come to grips with the revelation. The Luke you knew, the one you trusted, had turned into a completely different person. the next time you would see him he would no longer be the guy you had once known but instead a stranger who’s laugh you could recognize anywhere.

[ronearoundblindly]

Day Eighty-Three (1)

CEO!Steve Rogers x CEO!Reader

10 A.M., an It Had To Be You tale (see previous or series)

Summary: A joint meeting between AmCaps and the heads of four other major companies goes about as horribly as possible...or is it exactly as you expected? Either way, Steve messes up big time.

Warnings for (hi, I'm Ro) arguments, the absolute shittiness of misogyny, degrading use of petnames, language, social idjit!Steve (he honest-to-god tried his best but whoops). MINORS DNI. If this is not to your taste, please feel free to search lighter stories here. WC 2571

Sadly, the whole thing would have gone better if Tony Stark showed up.

Stark doesn’t do meetings like this though, and you may never bother with one again. You may have no need.

Clammy hands grip the leather spine of your monogrammed portfolio, comfortingly thick with the employee files you’ve brought as ammunition. This is a battle, no doubt in your mind, but Steve acts as if it’s any other day. To him, it probably is.

This is Steve’s fourteenth quarterly get-together of entities using the stabilizing, hydrostatic, insulated, electro-neutral, lead-dense (aka S.H.I.E.L.D) modules which American Capsules supplies. You’ve worked here for twelve of those but never been in the room.

The room feels as big as a concert hall with you an ant in the back pew.

Since the meeting is on your turf, you and Steve wait till the others arrive, your boyfriend highly aware of your nerves but without a clue as to why.

You’ve been preparing for this far longer than the not-quite three months you’ve held the title of co-CEO. It’s important to understand what is really happening between these companies and who exactly is to blame. It was also important to tell Steve nothing until you knew all the facts, and you didn’t until the phone call you just got off three minutes ago.

That’s not enough time. He’ll have to enjoy the show like everyone else,

Steve loosens his skinny black tie and repeats that you shouldn’t worry. He can take the lead. All the stats are printed in the binders laid in front of six chairs around the oblong table. He touches you, reassuringly he believes, at exactly the wrong moment.

Justin Hammer saunters through the door, clocking the intimate hand on your arm when Steve leans forward to whisper, “what’s wrong?” The outrageously pompous pumpkin sucks his teeth, winking at you, and spins to moonwalk closer. Hammer even goes so far as to cup your other elbow with an over-tanned palm.

“Peach, you’re gorgeous. Don’t ever change,” he flirts, damn well knowing that you aren’t the assistant anymore but are dating the man right beside him. “Hey, pal, how’s it going? Lookin’ sharp.”

Justin wheels the nearest chair away from the conference table and plunks down, lounging against the high-backed seat, swinging his feet up onto the adjacent chair. He may as well be at the beach.

He snaps, hand landing in a finger gun pointed at you—or your backside, more accurately, where he’s also staring.

“I like mine sweet and dark. Thanks. ‘Preciate you.”

There’s no elaboration. You’re just the coffee bitch to him.

What’s wrong, you want to tell Steve, what’s wrong is that asshole is only twenty-five percent of the shit I have to deal with this morning!

Before you or Steve can respond, however, the other three arrive in quick succession.

Darren Cross of Pym Technologies might actually be the least offensive of the bunch. His smile is polite and jovial, he greets Steve simply and shakes your hand, and he smacks Hammer’s calf hard enough to make a sound as he passes by.

He, unlike Justin, brought a briefcase, keeping up the illusion that he participates in the company he’s here to represent. Cross probably does still participate, considering he was only promoted recently after Hank Pym retired.

Aldrich Killian is undoubtedly (one of) the brains behind his think tank, AIM, and Brock Rumlow is undoubtedly smug, being a lowly former associate at Stark Industries, now an executive for the Roxxon Energy Corporation.

Each of them has skin in each other’s game; throughout the history of American Capsules’ products, innovations have been shared between them to either create suitable shipping containers or to have their products shipped via those containers. They’ve quite literally shielded their collective work.

It’s a symbiotic relationship.

It’s a circle jerk.

Killian and Rumlow do not bother to walk around and say hello. They fake niceties and unbutton their suit jackets to sit on the other side of the table.

Noticeably, none of them chose either ‘head’ of the table. No one was willing to take a position of power equal to Steve in his own house. Your boyfriend seems to interpret this as acquiescence of some sort—proof that they’ll blindly respect what and who Steve himself respects,—and then Steve wrongly decides to gently run his hand the rest of the way down your arm, his fingers curling to lift your limb until the very last second.

He made it look like you were reaching out for him, like you were a scared child in need of support. You are, in a sense, but he didn’t have to fucking advertise it to these men.

Steve doesn’t make mistakes. He did that on purpose. Maybe he meant to establish some sort of claim to you? To stop them objectifying you? Whatever they do now is solely out of respect or fear of him though, not you.

You’re frozen in place—in anger, truth be told—until Justin drops his feet to the floor dramatically.

“Indulge me, sweetcheeks.” He winks again. “I’m thirsty.”

Doing your very best Vanna White impression, you step back and sweep an arm out toward the drinks on the side server. “Help yourself,” you say with a smile.

It’s only because Justin is an idiot that he misses the dig.

Open to the page he wants, Steve tosses his binder to the wood surface, the slap of lamination to varnish attracting the attention of all the men, and takes his seat at the end.

You waltz to the other side, a clear and distinct separation between you and Steve, equals in life and work but opposites today.

“Shall we wait for Stark,” Rumlow growls in his low voice.

“Not necessary,” Steve allows. “If he shows, he shows. Let’s get to it.”

Steve begins, pointing out a few key concerns. Since you already know all of this, he doesn’t look to you while speaking, but neither do the other men when they respond.

They talk over you as if you’re not there, being blowhards and patting each other on the back for ’surviving in this economy.’ You let them go on. Steve gets nowhere. He gets excuses. He gets parroted promises.

Justin dismisses insufficient specs by saying he’s just a pretty face. He leaves all the numbers to nerds. He laughs about how he’ll have to check with his people about the nitty-gritty details, but he’s sure it’ll work out.

He stands to get his own black coffee, plopping three cubes of sugar in the chrome mug.

Rumlow barks out that shoddy Hammer tech nearly sank a Roxxon oil rig.

Justin feigns ignorance of the incident.

Killian uselessly offers a fix for that, at a price.

Darren argues that Pym has followed their agreement with AmCaps to the letter.

Everybody is fucking lying to themselves.

The shouting continues, escalating until it looks like Killian and Rumlow are close to throwing punches, though you’ve missed why those two are at odds.

Finally, Steve rises, stretching his hands out in peace.

“Everyone, calm down! Take a breath. Have some water. Sit.”

He’s stressed, clearly, defaulting to conditioned behavior which means Steve then looks right at you with a pleading expression.

Wrong again.

Darren lets out a huff and nods at you. “Yes, I think that would be nice.”

“I’ll take a glass,” Rumlow adds with a tap of the table in your direction.

Killian sighs an unmistakable ‘loser’ to Rumlow, and suddenly, the fight is back on.

Time to lock and load.

You cough and stand, flipping open the portfolio in front of you, adjusting your hips in your pencil skirt with a tug but only for affect. You know exactly what draws the attention of these men.

The room goes mostly quiet.

“Water. For the table,” you deadpan command Steve.

Picking up your copy of the report set, you clear your throat.

“I’m afraid Rogers has given you all the impression this is a negotiation. It’s not.” You slide the binder to the center. “It’s a courtesy. A courtesy which none of you deserve.”

“What the hell is she talking about?” Rumlow gruffly asks Steve.

“I’m talking about unpaid balances and unfulfilled orders. I’m talking about product tampering and verified illegal activity that hereby voids your contracts, effective immediately.”

Darren shoots out of his seat. “You can’t do that!” He turns to Steve. “She can’t do that, right?”

Steve, however, is blanched with shock. “Wait, I—“

“Each of your agreements with us—“ you barrel over his protest “—contains a morality clause which was broken by Hammer Tech when they conspired to produce a subpar protective lining and pad Roxxon gas sales in the region, unwittingly causing unsafe storage at a Stark factory in Galmira because the entire operation no longer followed American Capsules specifications—your specifications for transporting your own products.

“Pym,” you continue with force, “failed to produce compact enough items for the containers they ordered and instead chose to resell the regulated lining materials for a premium.” You toss a packet of papers down to Darren. “In your infinite wisdom, this also means you violated multiple Customs laws by forging shipping weights and ignoring safety guidelines.”

Killian puts a bejeweled hand over his vested heart. “Cross, you didn’t?”

“Which brings me to fucking AIM,” you grit.

“Precious,” Steve breaths with a warning tone, but you can’t stop. You’ve waited too long for this moment.

“Because who the hell do you think created the new formula for a light-weight, lower-cost, shitty lining?” You take such pleasure in stabbing a finger in his direction then flinging stapled proof across the table. “Evidence. Evidence of all of this provided by multiple sources. And you were warned…”

Now comes the really fun part.

You spread out eight folders.

“…warned by Roxxon’s own Betty Ross, Wanda Maximoff, and Kamala Khan. By Hammer’s Monica Rambeau and Kate Bishop. AIM’s doctors, Christine Palmer and Helen Cho, and finally, Pym Tech’s Mary Jane Watson—none of whom, I’m excited to say, work for you anymore.”

There’s a stunned heft to the frigidly controlled air in the large room. The florescent lights overhead buzz harshly.

“Are you fucking serious?” Killian rasps.

“Put your bitch back on her leash,” Rumlow bites to Steve.

“Don’t speak to her like—“

“Wait a minute,” Justin snorts, “I’m confused.”

“Your nerds will explain it to you once you crawl back into your hole.”

“Prec—” Steve snips in alarm but catches himself. He looks panicked and blind-sided, which he would be. You kept their complicity from him until you had everything you needed to invoke the morality clause.

You turn to the junior CEO for Pym Tech. “Expect a call from Hope Van Dyne. She has a few thoughts on Cross Technologies.”

Called out for his as-yet-unannounced rebranding of the company, Darren breaks, and he breaks viciously, vaulting the three chairs between you.

“Fucking cunt,” he screams through bared teeth.

Steve launches past the skittering seats and makes it to Cross milliseconds before he can intercept you.

“I didn’t make you lie, cheat, and steal,” you screech. “You screwed yourselves!”

Killian straightens his lapels and smooths his shirt nervously. “Surely, we can come to some arrangement.”

“This is all a misunderstanding,” Hammer adds.

Rumlow simply walks out with a shout of “you’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”

Steve slams Cross into the window, an ominous rattle shaking the frame, the cheek of the struggling man whining as it smears along the glass. When Darren still tries to hiss something else at you, Steve pins him against the wall instead, a forearm choking off any other choice words the bald man might offer.

“This meeting is over,” Steve grunts, pushing at Cross until the man settles.

“Right,” you sigh, keeping your voice as level as you can. “Gentlemen, I’d say get your houses in order, but I’m afraid the furniture is about to be repoed.”

Killian runs his hand through his styled hair. “Think I’ll leave you to talk some sense into your precious partner. Good day.”

You’ll never forgive Steve for blurting your private nickname out in front of the worst possible people to know it, but this is how you chose to play the meeting. You knew there’d be…pushback.

The AIM founder takes a lazy sip. “Thanks for the water, Rogers.” He taps his pinky ring several times on the glass, a hollow, high ting lingering after each strike, and then Aldrich heads for the door.

Steve releases Darren despite the wild look in his eyes, but Cross would be a fool to make any move except to leave. He gathers his things and slips through the exit before it fully closes.

The only one remaining is Justin Hammer, and he tosses out his arms with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Kitten, come on. This is crazy. Isn’t this crazy? We’re all friends here. Let’s just chill, relax, and work this out. How ‘bout a drink?” More snaps. More finger guns. “You want coffee? Alright, perfect. Love ya. We’ll have coffee.” The man fidgets, sweat visible on his lip and forehead when he turns in the window’s light and approaches the drink cart.

“Sure thing, Justin. I take my coffee like I take my women—“ you smile “—from you.”

Okay, that part just felt good.

“That—” Hammer’s brow raises and he wipes down his jaw with one hand “—now that was uncalled for.”

Steve cuts in, a solid dismissal in the form of “I said ‘the meeting’s over.’”

“Oh, boy. You—well, you better watch…This ain’t over.” Hammer makes a fuss of buttoning his jacket again, puffing out his chest, then walking off even more empty-handed than he arrived.

The enormous, heavy door shuts slowly on buzzing, bright silence.

After a pause, Steve heaves out a breath.

“That went well.”

Sarcasm is not one of his strengths.

You’re not sure what you expected. You stand as a block of granite decor in the corner you retreated to once shit hit the fan.

It was the right decision. This was the right thing to do, the moral thing. It’s in the goddamn contract.

Though physically he shows no signs of duress—Steve used very little of his actual muscle to subdue Darren,—he hangs his head, stepping to your spot at the table to look at what you brought in. After a pause, Steve rubs his temple like it aches.

“I…I have no words,” he mutters, tone inscrutable.

You don’t care if he has words or not. You only have to wait until they’re out of the building.

“I don’t understand. What just happened?”

The door opens to reveal a bored-looking Topaz.

“Boss, Stark sent a catered lunch over. Where should they set up? It’s shawarma.”

“I don’t care,” Steve bursts. “Just take it down to R&D or something!”

That’s your cue to leave.

You shut your mostly-empty portfolio and tuck it to your chest.

A hand wraps around your wrist, unyielding.

Steve’s stormy blue eyes are felt more than seen, his hold tightening, trying to inch you closer, but you rip away.

“I’ll send you a memo,” you tell Steve without looking directly at him. “Keep those. I have copies.”

Fast as you can in heels and a skirt, you hurry after Topaz and past the food, fleeing first to your office and then to your own home.

[Day 83: 6pm]

[tender first aid drabble; Big Girls Don't Cry]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: Ahhhhh! Next up is how Steve makes it up to you...or at least starts to...😱😵‍💫🥴

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81

@bigtreefest @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads

@fallinallinmendes @rach2602 @royalwritersoftheuniverses

[petvampire]

The original drabble I was working on that started this whole Cluedo prompt thing into motion. 🤣 A little gift for @anything-thats-rock-and-roll who pointed out that I somehow haven’t written Cat King x Edwin x Monty together yet! (What are we calling these three as a ship, anyway?)

So here we have them, in the library, with the rope. 💖

NSFW

~

Walking in on Monty tied up is not exactly how the Cat King envisioned his day going, but he’s certainly not complaining.

He’s rounded the corner into the expanded library of the Dead Boy Detectives’ office - with the influx of new volumes to their collection, the ghosts needed more space for their books. So the office has undergone some changes, a few mundane, a few magical. They occupy the whole top floor of the building now, and the library is its own room, to Edwin’s eternal delight. The change is recent enough that the ghost is often still found here just wandering, touching shelves and books with a proprietary sort of contentment. He’s very much in his element here, whether curled up to read in one of the heavy wingback chairs he picked out, or poring over the varied volumes to do research for a case.

Right now, he’s not doing either, but he’s still perfectly in his element. A length of silk rope dyed a stormy grey is held in his hands, half of it already wrapped around the crow in an elaborate web of knots. He’s frowning down at an open book laid out on the low table next to him, one with a diagram that he is presumably studying, trying to replicate.

Monty looks utterly calm and unruffled, even with his arms bound behind his back in a way that looks faintly uncomfortable. He’s still fully dressed, both of them are, which makes the scene a little less fun for Thomas - but then, it’s fairly clear at first glance that this isn’t some heated interlude he’s interrupting, but a bit of hands-on practice.

Still, both of them look surprised and just a hint flustered when he clears his throat, drawing their attention to him. Evidently they weren’t expecting anyone to walk in on this bit of… research.

“I’m guessing this isn’t for a case,” he drawls, amusement lacing his tone. A hint of pink crawls across Monty’s cheeks, but Edwin just raises a brow; he’s become much better at maintaining his composure.

“And how can you be certain of that?” His voice is as cool and crisp as ever, though there’s a hint of a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Perhaps I’m attempting to find new ways to subdue potential threats.”

The shapeshifter’s eyes scan over the complex series of loops and knots, more decorative than functional, and he smirks. “Sweetheart, if you start tying up your clients, you’re going to end up with more business than you can handle.” He paces closer, trailing fingertips along the rope where it loops around Monty’s arms. The crow tilts his head, flashes him a teasing little smile, and Thomas can’t resist the urge to brush a quick kiss against his mouth.

He’s too fascinated by the rope to be distracted for long, though. Edwin has certainly got a knack for this sort of thing, those elegant hands deft with the elaborate ties. Thomas is more than a little amused to see that he’s been researching, practicing, since the first use of this particular skill set. He peers over the other’s shoulder to look at the diagram he seems to be trying to replicate, and grins.

“Looks like you’re only about halfway done,” he says almost conversationally to Edwin, running his fingertip up Monty’s spine, the back of his neck, feeling his crow shiver. “Want a hand?” He’s not offering to help with the rope, not really. There are more entertaining things to do than fuss over perfect knots, since he’s here.

The ghost presses his lips together, suppressing a laugh. Thomas is insatiable; he’s not the faintest bit surprised that the other wants to make what was simply a bit of an exercise in improving his skills into something more… salacious. “I suppose Monty is owed a reward for allowing me to practice on him.”

“Lucky me,” the crow murmurs with a smirk. He’s baiting the Cat King, all three of them know it, but the man rises to the occasion with pleasure.

He may not be as adept with rope as Edwin is, but he knows very well how to work with it once it’s on somebody. A tug on the ladder of strands lacing Monty’s arms behind his back forces him to arch, making a small sound low in his throat. “Maybe one of these days you’ll learn not to mouth off when someone’s being nice to you,” he drawls, but there’s no real reprimand in the words. They’re just an excuse to tease, to play.

A little more pressure in just the right places, and Monty is sinking to his knees, spine still arched, head tilted back. Edwin eyes him like an artist surveying a canvas, and kneels down beside him with the rest of the rope. It seems to take him little time to draw more loops and knots around the other’s limbs, wrists bound to ankles by another series of elaborate coils, forcing him to stay in that bent-back position. It would certainly be uncomfortable to remain in for too much time, but neither of them intends to keep him that way for long.

The crow’s eyes are slightly glazed now in a way they weren’t before, when Edwin was approaching the ropework in a far more clinical manner. The long, pale column of his neck is on display in this pose, and Thomas can’t help but take advantage. His mouth wanders lazily over that soft skin, biting and sucking sharp red marks here and there. Monty swallows any sound he might have made, but his pulse is rapid, the scent of arousal far too obvious to the shapeshifter to hide. Not that any of them are trying.

Edwin has pulled back after finishing the last tie, just… watching, but there’s a quiet hunger in his eyes. Thomas meets them and grins again, nuzzling against Monty’s throat. “You know, this really would look better on him naked,” he purrs.

“I was hoping to make sure I could execute this tie perfectly before using it properly,” the ghost shoots back, tart as ever. “But since you’ve decided to move up the timetable, perhaps you could oblige me.”

It’s all he has to say; Thomas flicks a hand, and Monty’s clothes have dissolved into nothing, the crow making a softly startled little noise. The ropes have just a little more slack without the barrier of fabric in the way, but not enough for him to so much as relax. No, he’s still well and truly bound, and now the center of both men’s focus.

The deep grey of the rope looks lovely against his skin, the forced arch of his back emphasizing the lean line of his body. Thomas slides away from him to stand and consider the view from all angles, before slipping an arm around Edwin’s waist. “Looks pretty perfect to me,” he murmurs teasingly into the ghost’s ear.

“You’re a bit biased.”

“Even so.” The teasing exchange cuts off as his mouth settles over Edwin’s, the kiss slow and heated. Thomas deliberately draws it out, knowing Monty is watching - knowing he can’t do anything but watch at the moment.

He can’t help but enjoy every opportunity he gets to tease one of his lovers with another, to play their desires off each other. It’s doubly delectable with Monty bound and practically helpless at their feet, though the hunger in his gaze is nearly palpable. Thomas can feel the heat of it like a hand brushing over his skin as he lazily unbuttons Edwin’s shirt, unknots his bow tie.

He hears Monty’s soft little groan when he finally gets the ghost at least partly undressed, the glimpses of skin beneath all those layers fanning the flames of desire. Thomas’ hands run up Edwin’s chest, and he laughs against his mouth, finally drawing back from the kiss, glancing at his crow.

“Of course, the problem is, he’s no damn use down there.” It elicits a dry laugh from the ghost, his gaze sliding over Monty in that slow, appreciative way.

“Perhaps not. He is rather fetching like this, though.” He bends, and now it’s his lips skimming over the crow’s neck, almost delicately kissing over the marks Thomas left behind as his hands are busy with the ropes. This time Monty moans in earnest, arching into the other even as the ropes go slack, urging more contact.

That, they’re both quite happy to give.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, since Edwin has left Monty’s arms as they are, firmly bound behind his back. But they get the crow back on his feet, then across the room to one of those fancy chairs the ghost likes so much. It takes more time than it should, largely because they’re distracted by touches, kisses, by shedding bits of clothing along the way. Still, since they eventually end up with Thomas settled in the chair, Monty in his lap, Edwin kneeling in front of him, no one is complaining in the slightest.

No one is doing anything resembling speaking anymore, in fact. Thomas is too busy devouring his crow’s mouth as Monty bounces on his cock, whimpering and groaning messily into the kiss. Edwin is too busy with Monty’s dick halfway down his throat, fingers digging into the other’s thighs when his movements grow too quick, too erratic. He’s as slow and methodical as he was with the rope, keeping the other on the edge but not letting him come.

At least, not until Thomas has, spilling himself into Monty’s ass with a guttural groan. Only then does Edwin apply himself fully, bringing the crow to orgasm in what certainly feels like record time.

He sits back on his heels with a smirk, primly wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. He’s still hard, but doesn’t seem to be paying attention to that fact at the moment as his eyes find Thomas’ again. The Cat King looks smug and pleased, but nowhere near sated - par for the course for him, really.

“Now, is that sufficient to keep you from distracting me from my practice for a little while?” Monty raises his head with a start, apparently surprised that Edwin is right back to business, but Thomas just laughs at the faint note of teasing in his ghost’s voice.

“Just how many diagrams did you find that you were going to talk Monty into letting you try out?”

Edwin’s smile is nowhere near innocent. “One hundred and seven.”

Both of them blink at him, astonished, and then Thomas bursts out laughing. Monty rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “When were you going to spring that on me?”

The ghost doesn’t reply, just smirks, and Thomas shakes his head. “Well, I think we’re going to be here for a while, then.”

[whatisluniana]

You Called, I Answered

Summary: An undercover operation gone wrong, but my kidnappers forgot to remove my brooch.

Content: Sylus/Fem!Reader, Heavy petting, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Torture, Handcuffs, Rescue

ADO: Read Here

The assignment had come from top officials at UNICORN; an undercover sting operation involving a crime family that was potentially selling illegally altered proto-cores. Our wing of UNICORN had been asked to provide the agents, as the local branch in Hillport was well known to the family, and would be made too easily if involved. Stefan and I had been approved, for the foreign criminals we were to impersonate looked most like the pair of us, same look and hair. Xavier didn’t look happy about it, but nodded his permission to Stefan, as though passing on a torch that technically wasn’t his to pass.

Stefan was a good hunter, tall and lanky, with kind eyes. His Evol was water-based and he fought with a long bow staff. We spent a week training together until we could move as a unit, and I knew the best ways to resonate with his Evol. All along, we called each other by our code names, memorizing the background story that had been provided to us, as well as the layout of the building where we were to meet the crime syndicate to negotiate for the proto-cores. Along with us, we’d take four other highly trained hunters, our ‘bodyguards’ for the mission.

The plan was to attend the auction for the proto-cores, try to get an invite to a private viewing, and then do our best to arrest as many of the ring leaders as possible. Our partner branch would be on standby outside the building, waiting for our signal to enter the building and back us up. Xavier personally reviewed all the plans in the evenings and pensively gave his approval. Dr. Zayne gave me a clean bill of health. Rafayel was overseas and wished me a safe journey through fishy emojis.

I texted Sylus that I would be away for a week on a mission, and told him to keep the explosions in the N109 Zone to a minimum until I got back. The pudgy raven emoji he sent me looked nonplussed, then he reminded me to keep the raven brooch he gave me on my person at all times. It would lend some credibility to my story, so I readily agreed.

The flight to Hillport was just two hours long, and I spent my time reviewing the files and the layouts with Stefan at my side. We’d been lent a personal jet to support the ruse, and when we landed, we all settled easily into our appropriate roles, moving from the jet to a private limo that would take us to the auction. We drove downtown to the ritzy hotel in the seedy north end, did one last check on our coms, and headed inside. The lobby and the initial ballroom played out just as we had expected. We were welcomed politely, but warily, by the sellers with the lesser wares. We schmoozed and made our way around the room, inspecting the proto-cores on display, before being ushered into the auction itself. I remembered telling myself that Sylus would be interested in hearing that proto-core auctions in Hillport were remarkably similar to those in the N109 Zone.

A young man in a black tuxedo showed us seats in the center of the auction, with enough space for our ‘bodyguards’ to feel comfortable. We had our numbered paddles ready; we chatted with the criminals to either side. The lights went down for the auction to begin, and they didn’t come back on again.

The whole auction had been a setup, a trap. In our ears, the static of the signal jammer told us that no one was coming. Every person in that room was more than prepared for the six of us. The glowing eyes on our enemies, likely some sort of night vision, were really all we had to know where and what to hit. We fought like demons, trying to stay close together, to stick to the elaborate training we’d done, to work as a team.

It was obvious that our enemies’ first tactic was to separate Stefan and me. Every action taken against us was intended to move us further and further apart, removing any Resonance between us, until I was fighting with brute strength and bullets alone.

And when we’d cut down as many of the enemies as possible, the Wanderers began to arrive. Grotesque figures, their misshapen bodies reminded me of others I had seen, strange combinations of men and Wanderers. The experimental proto-cores were not the only experiments to view that night. I watched my teammates fall, one by one, but the Wanderers were not allowed to kill them. Instead, more men arrived, driving back the Wanderers and picking up my team. They were going to take us to a second location. The terror renewed the fight within me, and I tried desperately to get back to Stefan’s side, to push-pull on his powers so that I had more – and he had more – to give our enemies.

It was the shock of a Wanderer breaking my right arm that gave them enough of a window to knock me flat. I had no idea where Stefan, or any of the rest of my team was. Panicked, I reached for the one life line I had left. With my good hand, I slammed my fingers down on the ruby of the raven brooch on my chest. The last thing I saw was a deformed claw-hand moving fast at my face. I tried to deflect it with my good hand, but the blackness took me first.

*

When I woke the first time, I was being held down on a table while someone did a piss poor job of setting the break in my arm. At first, there weren’t enough of them to hold me down while I screamed and thrashed. Someone had forgotten that without someone to Resonate with, I had only myself, and I was used to fighting hard, and fighting dirty. Sure, I looked small, but looks can be deceiving. I almost made it off the table they were using as a makeshift hospital bed. One of them finally had enough of me, and punched me back down into the darkness.

*

The next time I awoke, I was lying in a twin-sized bed in what looked like a dingy hotel room. The walls were yellowing, the fake-wood panels on the desk in the corner were peeling off, and the drapes that potentially hid a window or sliding doors were stained as though something had seeped up them from the floor and no one had ever bothered pulling them down to wash them.

One of my captors stood near the door, his back to me, a phone to his ear, grunting acceptance to whatever was being told to him.

My broken arm was bound tightly to my chest, but something felt wrong about the binding. Not just that it was hastily done with minimal effort, but that there was something else there. My free hand was handcuffed to the headboard behind me. Every inch of me hurt, and breathing wasn’t easy, signaling that perhaps a few of my ribs had been broken. My shoes were long lost, my dress torn and stained, but to my amazement, the ruby brooch still glinted up at me from my chest.

I glanced at my captor; he was still engrossed in his phone call. The handcuffs were just a touch too short for me to reach the brooch. I glanced again, still not looking at me, I wiggled, trying to push my body up towards the headboard, inching my fingers to that ruby.

A backhand caught me unawares, along with a snarled ‘what do you think you’re doing?’, that flipped my head away from my chest. When my vision cleared again, my captor was snarling in my face, demanding to know what I knew. I knew that I didn’t know his face; he hadn’t been part of our briefings. I also knew, as the brooch remained on my chest throughout the interrogation, the continued beating, that he was a fool. They all were, if they’d seen the brooch and just left it. I said nothing, and eventually, he was pissed off enough to knock me out again.

*

It was a different man the next time I was startled awake with a glass of ice water thrown in my face. I spluttered and coughed while someone chuckled nastily. Shaking my wet hair from my face I glared up at the new face. This one, at least, I recognized. He was not very high in the organization, but enough that we’d been told who he was and to watch out for him. If he was in attendance, then the family we were to arrest were not far away.

The interrogation started again, but his tactics were worse than the first bully of a man. This one was very aware that I was a woman, and seemingly at his mercy. I let him touch, grab and prod me a bit, giving him a false sense of security about how weak and vulnerable I was. He took the bait, and I was able to knee him violently in the chin before kicking him in the chest hard enough to toss him off the bed and away from me. He coughed and snarled as he climbed to his feet. “You’ll pay for that,” He snarled, uninspiringly, and I got another backhand that rattled my brain and the blackness threatened to take me again.

In a rage now, he punched my broken arm, pushing me backwards on the bed with the force of it, eliciting a wail that brought a grin to his fat lips. He came near me again, holding my legs down this time, and began whispering all the terrible things he was going to do to me, until I begged him for death.

He was close enough to me while he whispered that when I pushed the ruby on the brooch on my chest, he heard the faint ‘click’ of it. The rage in his face fell into confusion, as he looked down at my brooch, at my restrained hand hovering just over it. Understanding seemed to dawn upon him as he gazed at its shape, and he looked up at me once more.

Somewhere outside the room, a crow screamed.

His skin went pale.

There was a brief, uncomfortable buzzing noise, and the room suddenly filled with the metallic scent of blood. Just as suddenly, a fist sent my captor flying across the room. Sylus was there, and I Reached, trying to push the Resonance between us, but nothing worked. My broken arm ached, and my wrist felt like it was burning.

Sylus didn’t need my help, anyway. My captor was dispatched in moments, and just as quickly, Sylus had pushed the broken desk against the door to stop any others from coming through. He then stormed to my side, his eyes bright crimson, assessing my condition in an instant before he yanked on the handcuff, breaking the links that held my wrist to the bed.

I was in his arms with no memory of him colleting me, cradled to his chest while he yanked back the stained drapes and pulled open the sliding glass door to the balcony. “Sylus, wait.” I managed to whisper, my free hand pushed at his chest. “My team, Stefan. We can’t leave them.”

Sylus stepped out onto the balcony, touching his chin to the top of my head. “It’s alright, kitten.” He rumbled. “Luke and Kieran will find them. And if they don’t, I will.”

He held me tight as he moved to the edge of the balcony. I didn’t fight the blackness when it came for me that time. I knew, at last, I was safe.

*

I woke from an interrogation dream, a torture dream, with a scream that was echoed by the mechanical crow perched on the bedside table. Mephisto took off in a flutter of feathers and screeches. I managed to push up onto my elbows, my broken arm pulsing with pain at the effort. I was not restrained, the wine-red silk sheets and dark masculine aesthetic of the room reminding me that Sylus found me, came for me. I was in his room, in the N109 Zone. I was safe, but why couldn’t I get control of my breath again?

Sylus was there, crooning softly in his deep voice, coaxing me back down onto my back, encouraging me to breath, “Just breath, Kitten.” He touched the side of my face with such softness, I found myself wondering what I must look like, that he would touch me so gently, so carefully. No doubt my face was a wash of bruises, wine-red like his sheets on my pale skin. He breathed with me, his scarlet eyes willing me to follow his lead, to calm my breaths. Finally, I was able to fill my lungs fully, to take the deep breaths he was coaching me to do, and I closed my eyes, listening to his deep voice, unable to find meaning in the words as my own slowing heartbeat filled my ears.

I was safe, but what of the others? My eyes whipped open again, and I grabbed for him with my good hand, taking a fist full of his grey shirt. “The others, Sylus, my team…” I whispered, my throat aching, but from dryness or screaming, I couldn’t be sure.

“Shhhh…” he stroked my face again. “All as safe as I could make them.” He told me. “They weren’t being kept in as nice an accommodation as you. But we found them all, and gave them back.” Again, he encouraged me to breathe with him, to release the panic, and let my heart slow down.

“Here.” He reached for something on the bedside table, and pressed an ice chip to my chapped and broken lips. I accepted the offering, closing my eyes at the soothing wet that coated my mouth and throat. He repeated the offering twice more, and I gladly accepted.

“Did you tell them��?” I whispered, thankful I was not croaking this time.

“That I don’t trust any of them to take care of you, after this debacle?” he smirked down at me. “Of course.”

I found my eyes fluttering closed once more. I was safe. Sylus was here. The others were rescued, and know that I’m safe. Well, safer with Sylus than I had been. To those waiting to hear from me, safe was a relative term. But Xavier would tell Zayne, and perhaps I’d be home in time to tell Rafayel before he burned down the UNICORN office looking for me. I registered that beside me, Sylus was humming a quiet melody, when sleep took me away again.

*

“Come back to me, kitten.” That deep dark voice teased me to the surface, long, gentle fingers stroking my cheek again. “We need to deal with that arm of yours.” I opened my eyes and squinted through the near darkness at his large form. “Resonate with me, dove, and it’ll be like it never happened.”

I met his dark gaze and croaked, “I can’t.”

I saw the frustration in his gaze and panicked, as though this seeming rejection would cause him to leave. I grasped at his shirt as he turned away. “No, Sylus.” To my surprise he turned back again with an ice chip in his hand. He fed it to me and took the hand clawing at his shirt, almost soothingly. “There’s something… stopping me.” I whispered around the ice chip. “I can’t Resonate. It hurts to try, my wrist…”

His dark gaze turned down to my broken arm, the poorly arranged cast. He traced his long fingers down it and easily found the odd bump at my wrist, as though they’d wrapped a bracelet up underneath.

“We’ll have to take the cast off to get the dampener off.” He was obviously not pleased with this turn of events, frowning darkly at my broken arm. Finally, he pulled his eyes up to mine, and brushed an errant curl away from my face. “I’m going to put you under for it. Rest.” He pushed off the bed and moved to a large med kit on the table nearby. I followed the indirect order and closed my eyes. I don’t even remember him returning to my side.

*

The pain pulled me back awake, screaming, fighting, but Sylus had a hold of my uninjured arm. Weak as I was, he was able to hold me down, even as he pulled the last of my captors' poorly constructed cast off and tossed it off the side of the bed. He was still crooning, whispering as he pulled me to his chest, asking me to breathe with him again, through the pain.

Once I’d calmed again, we both inspected the dampener on my wrist. It was half a set of handcuffs, the chain and second cuff removed. Unexpectedly, Sylus pressed his lips to my damp forehead, got off the bed, and went digging through the drawers in one of his long dressers. He returned with a small kit which opened to reveal an elaborate set of lock picks. He made short work of the cuff, popping it open and tossing it off the bed onto the floor with the cast.

Sylus took my chin and forced me to look up into his eyes, away from the bruised mess of my broken arm. Though I felt like my whole body was pulsing with the pain of my arm, dancing with the beat of my heart, I accepted the distraction. “Resonate with me, kitten, let’s see if we can find the path together.” His long fingers slid down my uninjured arm and pushed my hand open until he could tangle our fingers together.

My heartbeat drummed, the pain pulsed, and Sylus’s right eye began to glow. Just as I’d done with my teammates, Xavier, Zayne, and Rafayel, I Reached and pushed outwards with my heart. I focused on his gaze, and his hand clasping mine. When we had tried this previously, Sylus had pushed, had been the one Reaching, and I’d walled him off, away from me, and my Evol. This time, I Reached, and he Reached. Hot, like a desert wind, his Evol swirled along my skin, and into me. I felt my eyes close as the warmth of it, the bright, red, energy of his Evol met my own, and grew, pulsing with my heart beat. I heard Sylus inhale deeply, and hum in appreciation. “Yes, just like that.” I heard him whisper into my ear, nuzzling my throat. “It’s been too long…” 

And then the pain began to subside. The heat moved through me, across my skin, pulsing. I felt it pool in my broken arm and chest, felt the heat grow, heard Sylus’s breath grow labored as it pushed and knitted what had been broken back together. My bruised cheeks and eyes burned with it. I felt it begin to move away from my chest, arm and face, searching for more hurt and began to pull myself back, to extricate my Evol from his. “It’s alright Sylus.” I whispered, touching his cheek with the hand once bound to my chest. “I can take it from here.”

I opened my eyes and looked up at him. The glow of Sylus’s right eye pulsed, his lips spread in a thin smile. “Are you sure, Kitten?”

I squeezed his hand and pressed my nose up against his neck. “You came for me.” I whispered, touching my lips to his throat.

Sylus let out a dark chuckle, even as he shifted our positions so he was looming over me, our hands still clasped. His eye no longer glowed, but he still grinned. “You called, I answered.” He responded, and then captured my lips with his own, a deep, claiming kiss that echoed through me, tightening my core with pleasure. He clasped his left hand tightly to mine, his right holding him up and over me, and then the kiss began to trail away from my lips, down to my throat and then bare shoulder. His teeth nipped at the skin where my neck met my shoulder and I heard myself gasp, the surprise and the pleasure at the action echoing through me.

“Sylus.” I whispered as he spread kisses down my shoulder, his lithe fingers slowly starting to draw the hanging remnants of my dress away from my skin. “Sylus.” I pressed at him, trying to draw him back up to my face. I was tempted to ask a third time when his lips returned to mine for another breath-stealing kiss before he finally focused on my face. “Sylus, I want you.” He rewarded this pronouncement with another kiss. “But I want a shower more, please.” I found myself wrapping my now-healed arm around his neck, he was still holding my other hand in his own, pulling him close. “I don’t want to smell… like them… like him… when I’m with you.” I couldn’t stop the full-body shudder that wracked my body. Briefly, I watched the anger flare in his eyes, felt him press his body down on mine, as though he could banish the attack from my mind.

Moments, and one more deep kiss, later, he was carrying me into his bathroom and setting me gingerly on the long marble counter, framed by jack and jill sinks. He flipped on the shower and let the water warm while pulling off his grey shirt and slipping out of the black slacks he’d been wearing. He left his black briefs on for now, though there was no doubt that he had been enjoying himself immensely before my request. Returning to me, he put himself between my legs and continued the effort to peel the ruined black dress off my form. Somehow, he managed to make pulling the blood-soaked garment away from my still-tender skin its own form of foreplay, kissing each inch of skin he revealed, leaving my black bra and underwear until last.

He was kissing me thoroughly when he finally unclasped my bra and dumped it on the floor. Those long, talented fingers teased my ribcage before cupping my breasts, thumbs dancing briefly around the areolas, sending another shiver of pleasure through me. After a brief appreciative squeeze, Sylus slid his hands down my sides and cupped my ass before sliding me off his counter and pulling my underwear off to join my bra on the tile floor.

He cupped my ass again as he lifted me into the air and took me into the shower with him. Sylus let me revel in the perfectly hot water, lolling my head back to wet my hair while he pressed butterfly kisses to my collar bones. “Can you stand?” he purred in my ear, setting me down enough to explore the answer. At my nod, he leaned me back against the cool tile before removing his briefs, dropping them outside the shower and collecting a handful of bodywash. He returned to my side and began sliding those large talented hands over my body while he leaned down to capture my lips once more. Our height difference forced him down onto one knee, but it was quite obvious he didn’t mind as his kisses continued to trail my body while he washed the blood and sweat away.

When he was satisfied that he’d washed every inch of my body, he nudged me around to face the tile, squeezing a butt cheek in thanks at my pliancy. Standing, he took a little bit longer with my hair, scrubbing thoughtfully at my scalp with those talented fingers, his shampoo smelling of eucalyptus and wood. I enjoyed the pampering, closing my eyes, and tried to keep myself from tipping backwards into his broad chest. Once satisfied that my hair was clean, he pulled me back against his chest for a rinse before he leaned me back up against the tile. Sylus’s conditioner smelled crisp and spicy somehow as he quickly combed it through my hair before leaning me back under the spray for another rinse.

He picked me up again, an arm under my frame, taking us both out of the shower and finding a pair of towels. He perched me on the edge of the sink again and handed me my towel while he quickly dried himself off. When he returned to my side and attempted to help me towel-dry my hair, I felt my eyelids fighting to stay open. “Sylus.” I murmured quietly, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him close. “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stay awake.”

I looked up, his expression was almost soft as he pulled me back into his arms and moved back to the bedroom. “No objections, kitten.” He purred in my ear as he tucked me under the luxurious sheets of his huge bed. “It took a lot to put you back together, I think I could use some sleep as well.” 

“Can you stay with me, for a little while?”

When that dark honey voice murmured, “Of course.” I smiled and allowed my eyes to close.

[polaroidhugs]

Hotel California

Chishiya x Reader

"Last thing I remember, I was running for the door/I had to find the passage to the place I was before/‘relax,’ said the night man ‘we are programmed to receive, you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.’” Chapter 1 - Dancing with Myself Chapter 2 - Poker face Chapter 3 - Rhiannon Chapter 4 - Hotel California Chapter 5 - Edge of Seventeen (WIP)

Summary: The memories of the night before are quickly turned sour when (___) Hano and Chishiya find themselves tied up, "asked" to join an organization that can bring them back to the real world.

A/N: Sorry this took so long!!! I've been in a bit of a writing drought... Hopefully the length of this chapter makes up for it. ENJOY!!

Warning(s): Swearing, some graphic descriptions of blood/death at the end.

WC: 7424

“We want you to join us”

Just who do these people think they are- the Avengers? Why are they recruiting me and Chishiya to join their little gang by fucking kidnapping us? Do we even have a choice in whether we join or not? My gut says no, considering how we are tied up and the way Sunglasses said it-like he’s so wrapped up in his own head that a simple “no” would shatter his ego.

I flick my gaze toward Chishiya, my head still as a statue. Looks like he had the same idea.

“Who is us?” I spit, glaring up at them with a scowl. Chishiya stays silent, but I can feel him still looking at me: Fucking hate that.

“The beach.” Sunglasses announces, flashing a grin that only shows his top teeth. He says it like he’s expecting us to react, like we should care. But I don’t. And getting Chishiya to care about anything is like talking to a brick wall: It won’t get you anywhere. 

When Sunglasses realizes the two of us still don’t know what the hell he’s talking about, he elaborates.

“My name is Danma. ” He throws an arm around the muscle-y guy beside him. Aguni. Aguni doesn’t look the least bit pleased by that. “My man here,” Then again, he doesn’t look displeased either. Just… indifferent. Oh, great. Just one more nonchalant person I have to deal with.

“That,” Danma continues, pointing to the man in prescription glasses. “Is Kuzuryu. The lady next to him, her name is Mira.” I don’t pay much attention to Kuzuryu. But Mira? Damn. She’s stunning: She’s got this long ink-black hair that reminds me of the night sky, and her features definitely wouldn’t be out of place on the runway.. If I had to compare her to an animal, she’d be a crow. I’d give Danma a monkey.

Okay, now I know their names. But I don’t know who they are. Why do they want us?

Alright, now I know their names. That’s a start. But it doesn’t answer the real question.

“Why should we join you?” I snap. “What’s in it for us?” 

Danma tilts his head down and lets out a light, almost mocking chuckle. “How long have you two been here? A week?” 

A week? If that’s his assumption, then he must have been her that long himself. How the hell? Oh, man this is trippy. I watched a movie kinda like this when I was little… The Girl Who Lept Through Time, I think it was? I feel like the girl in the movie right now, or are these four the girl?

“A day.” I reply flatly, nodding for emphasis. I can see Danma and Aguni’s expressions twist in confusion, and you’d expect for Kuzuryu and Mira’s face to show something, too- nah. Their faces remain eerily still like some sort of Greek statue.

Danma glances at Aguni, smirks, then scoffs before planting his hand on his hips. “Well, in that day, have you ever thought, ‘I want to go home?’”

Good on Danma for ignoring his problems.

Problem, though. Why is this guy talking to me like he’s pitching me a sale for some shitty piece of plastic? Yes of course I thought of that. I’d much rather be in my box of an apartment than in the back of a car. 

You know when the teacher asks a question, waiting for an answer but nobody in class has the guts to do it, so they just give up and answer it themself? Yeah.

“Well, if you collaborate with us, You can make it back to the real world. Don’t you want to?”

Real world? I mean, I had this sinking suspicion that this was some kind of alternate reality, but I had hoped I was the only one suspecting it. I look to Chishiya, and he’s already watching me. His gaze sharp as ever.

I’m not so good with communicating with my eyes while mouthing shit, but somehow we can both figure eachother out.

‘We should.’

‘Fuck no.’

‘This will be beneficial to us. We’ll gather information, then leave.”

‘Fuck no, Chishiya!’

“We accept.” 

Oh, dear God. Chishiya has just royally fucked us! My blood runs cold. Paranoia claws at my throat: I get the feeling this is something you can’t just leave once you’re in. And now we’re in balls deep thanks to Chishiya. He’s always fucking me up! That last game’s heroics aren’t even enough to redeem him now. 

Danma’s face splits into a grin so wide it could swallow the sun, while his friend’s faces remain cold. Not exactly the most greeting expressions. His laughter rings out, followed by something to Aguni- what? I can’t decipher.

“Hold on,” I interject, voice dripping with skepticism. I feel like I just walked into some big scam- or rather, Chishiya walked us into it. “You need to explain to us how any of this will help us home.” Danma didn’t even explain to us how he thinks we can make it back! He just pitched to us like he’s a contestant in Money Tigers!

Danma’s chuckle grates my nerves as Aguni moves behind Chishiya, working at the ropes tying him.“What card did you two receive?” Card? Does he mean from the game we played, or from some sort of… Game-beginning package? I have no idea what he’s talking about.

Before I can voice my confusion, Chishiya responds with a calm, “Six of diamonds.” His hands dip into his pockets the moment the ropes hit the floor, pulling out the exact card he named. The exact ranking that our game was given.

The sudden tug at my wrists by Aguni nearly makes me jump. Where’d Chishiya even get that card from? How’d I miss that? Is that why he vanished- he spotted that card? Still, an asshole thing to do and I am still mad at him for being the cause of my injury but whatever. I’d hadn’t even remembered I was injured until now, the rope is tied so tightly around my body that I could barely feel the same sensation I was feeling earlier.

Danma strides forward with confidence, his fingers snapping the card from Chishiya’s grasp with a moment too quick to protest. The laminated surface of the card glints momentarily as it changes hand, passing to Mira’s slender fingers. Her heels click against the hardwood as she carries their prize to a fancy feasting table, where a small wooden box lies dead in the center. Mira creaks the lid open and slides our card in. Ah. I get it. This little group operates on a simple little principle: What’s ours becomes theirs, while what’s theirs remains theirs. What a great way to run an organization.

“The way to leave this country,” Danma announces, spreading him arms like a carnival barker. Country? Is that what this is now? I know we have visas and shit, but I wouldn’t exactly deem this a ‘country.’ It's still Japan, just with twisted death games and 99% percent of the population gone. “Is written in the cards.”

Danma’s voice climbs in pitch with enthusiasm. “Collect every card in the deck, and one lucky soul gets to go home! And that soul,” He thumps his chest, clapping. “Will be me, your top-rank! We’ll keep gathering the cards until everybody in the beach has gone home!” I study the room's reaction, and I have to say, those two do not seem too happy: Mira’s lips are pressed into a line, and Kuzuryu clears his throat, adjusting his glasses, his eyes glancing to Mira as he does so. I don’t have eyes behind me, but I would assume Aguni’s face isn’t exactly filled with joy either.

“You two will be placed 5th and 6th rank, since you’re the fifth and sixth people to join. Fight amongst yourselves on who gets which.” As the final coil of rope slithers to the floor, the throbbing pain from last night comes back. Great. My side didn’t get better, the pressure from the rope was just hindering the pain.

I can sense Chishiya turn toward me, but I keep my gaze fixed forward. I could care less what rank I get: I have a bad feeling about this guy’s whole idea. There’s no way we’re all going to last long enough to get enough cards for everybody times six- this plan is going to be ruined by death, corruption, or both.

Danma holds up his hand, palm facing towards us. “We have just three rules.” His first finger snaps up. “One. You must always be wearing beach wear. No place to hide a gun in a thong bikini!” He chortles to himself, looking for reassurance from Aguni. He doesn’t get it. A second finger joins the first. “Two. You are to live however you want. You can have drugs, sex, drink, whatever!” Oh, that sounds kind of nice, not that I’m going to utilize any of that. Well, maybe drinking. Then, the third finger rises.

“Three. Death to the traitors.” Wow, okay. Big jump there. Going from joking about bikinis and sex and drugs to death to traitors.

“Excuse me.” Chishiya, ever the provocateur, leans forward. “What exactly makes a traitor?” 

Danma's smile evaporates. Slowly, he removes those damned sunglasses. He doesn't look too bad. Not at all. “Leaving after admission to the beach.”

Oh, God. It takes every ounce of self control out of me to not leap at Chishiya and strangle him. Why am I not strangling him? Some smart man Chishiya is, that he couldn’t see this would happen. Or did he? I wouldn’t put it past him.

“Well,” Oh, there’s the cheery Danma that I know! He’s back to his happy-go-lucky self. It’s a bit scary the way he changed so quickly. Jesus.

“Mira, take them to their rooms, will you?” Mira gives Danma a not-so-happy side glance, but aside from that doesn’t show any signs of contempt for the order. She just glides toward the large rustic door to my left. I rise, pushing off of my right hand as my left holds onto my wound. I refuse to so much as glance in Chishiya’s direction. I begin to follow Mira.

Not so long after, I can hear Chishiya do the same. You would think I would be in pain from my injury, and I am, but there’s something that just numbs it out. Eyes. Eyes on me and Chishiya. It’s like there are eyes in the walls. It’s all I can feel and think and breathe here. I hate it.

As we begin to leave the hallway that connects to the captor-room we were just in, I can hear Danma yell something about how he forgot to add that a traitor is also somebody that doesn’t hand their cards into him, cheerfully. Cheerfully. 

My body moves on autopilot, one foot mechanically following the other as I trail behind Mira, occasionally taking in the scenery. The architecture of this place, which I’m guessing is a hotel, is beautiful. I would kill to have a dress the same color as the carpet: A deep, wine-colored red.

I’m going almost insane here. I mean, why is everybody so joyous and composed here? I don’t understand it, and I don’t understand what I’m even feeling in response to that. Misery? No… Maybe aggravated. I’m aggravated that I'm the only one that actually cares. I mean, that guy Danma’s happy, Chishiya’s nonchalant, Mira’s compliant, ad even at the beginning of the Blackjack game, everybody there was confident in themselves. I feel shitty that I’m the only person that feels shitty about this whole thing. If it comes down to it, I don’t want to be the only one dying in depression and fear, that’s just not me. It’s not the way I want to go.

Oh, how time flies. One moment I’m studying the patterns engraved in the hotel walls, the next I’m colliding with Mira’s back. I almost want to grovel just for the pure audacity of even grazing her. How dare I? We both stagger away from each other, my apology tumbling out of my mouth.

Out of instinct, I guess, I turn pivot to survey our surroundings: We’re in what looks like an endless corridor consisting of door after door after door. I can tell Danma is giving us the pleasure of rooming next to him and the others, because there’s a shit-tly put up sign thumb tacked to the wall that reads, “Executives.” Some of the letters are smudged into each other and I can’t tell if that’s an ‘E’ or ‘F’. Did these people put this sign up blasted out of their minds?

But my attention snags on something far scarier than a sign. I catch Chishiya staring at me before I stare at him. Stop it. I break the split-second eye contact only to find Mira studying with a deadpan expression: I can’t tell if she hates me or is just looking at me normally. It’s always the most beautiful women who look the meanest, you know?

She jiggles the doorknob a bit before the stubborn door finally opens. Mira holds it ajar, her torso angled towards us. “Enjoy.” She purrs. “We’ll provide your bracelets whenever you two are ready.” And with that she walks away, turning to the corner out of our sight.

I edge forward cautiously, peering into the room like a wary cat. I mean, it’s like any standard hotel room: A short hallway opening into a main area flanked with a bathroom and closet, two queen beds spaced an arm’s length away from each other, a flat screen TV bolted high on the wall, and a mahogany desk filled with expensive snacks.

It truly is just a hotel room, yet my skin prickles with unease. Maybe it’s just paranoia coloring my perception, but something about this room feels wrong. In fact, something about the entire hotel feels a little weird. Of course you never see people running around all day in the halls in even the busiest hotels, but the emptiness is just so weird here. I had this ringing in my ear the entire time I was following behind Mira, the ringing you only get when everything is too quiet.

Of course, this is just a me thing, I guess, because Chishiya remains unaffected. He brushes past me, hands, as always, stuck in the pockets of his fuckass cardigan. Sometimes I just want to rip his hands out of there. Only after confirming Chishiya is a hundred percent safe and the room is in fact not booby-trapped do I follow after him. 

Together, we make it to the main area of the room. I don’t really understand why we couldn’t have been given two separate rooms but oh, well. Gotta save room for the hundreds of people that are going to willingly join this place, right? Ha, ha.

Withouting warning, the pain in my side becomes infinitely more intense, nearly causing my knees to buckle. At this moment, the pristine bed seems to have a gravitational pull. Hopefully I don’t taint the shiny white with my blood. I collapse onto the mattress, palm braced against the stiff duvet, a ragged exhale escaping my lips.

As I do, Of course Chishiya watches with his unblinking stare. Creep. I  shouldn’t confront him about this, and I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes the words from my mouth erupt before I can stop them.

“Why do I feel like you knew?” My glare meets his amused smirk through my bangs. Everyone here finds everything so damn funny—except me. Am I losing my mind? Am I just a lame piece of shit?

“Knew what?”

“Don’t…” I breathe, but I don’t bother finishing my sentence: Chishiya thinks it’s funny to play semantics with me. I can tell by his tone and the little quirk in his eyebrow and the smirk on his face that he knows exactly what I’m talking about. It’s annoying. It’s so goddamn annoying. But if I have to be honest, the way Chishiya acts is entertaining. I don’t know why it is. Maybe It just keeps me on my toes. He reminds me of me when I was younger, except for the fact that I was much louder, and for the fact that he isn’t some hooligan. 

“You knew leaving would entail ‘death.’” 

I wait for Chishiya to respond, pain and vexation all that’s filling my mind. His smile fades but his eyes remain alight with that patronizing gleam

“Refusing would’ve meant death too. You think that nutcase would’ve just let us walk away?” 

Fuck. Chishiya’s right. He’s always right, isn’t he? Still, could’ve at least warned me instead of spewing that bullshit about ‘gathering information.’ With a grumble, I let myself fall backward- only for my head to recoil against the bed. Shit, this mattress might as well be concrete. I guess I can add a concussion to my list of injuries. No way any guest before the world went dark stayed here and enjoyed their sleep! 

Man. What time is it? I can’t tell if the sun just rose or if it’s midday… Does it even matter anymore?

I still don’t know what time it is. All I know is that it’s been a hefty amount of time since we first came to this room, judging by the golden-orange glow from the sun seeping through the curtains. I’ve been sprawled out on this brick bed, staring up at the beige ceiling for what feels like hours. God only knows what Chishiya is up to. The last I saw of him was the brief glimpse of his hand as he slipped out the door, leaving only the quiet click of the latch.

I did get up maybe an hour or two ago, wandering around until I ran into the saner glasses guy… Kuzuryu, I think it was? I asked him about the bracelets Mira had mentioned and where I could find some decent beach attire. Helpful guy he was. He explained that the bracelets all have numbers connected to our rank and room: I got number six. Chishiya pulled a fast one on me. Can’t even be mad about it, though. Snooze, ‘ya lose, right?

Kuzuryu then led me to the hotel’s gift shop. Most of the usual tourist junk-keychains, postcards, cheap souvenirs- had been cleared out, replaced by racks of swimming trunks and bikinis and even some athletic wear like Nike. Whoever’s in charge of stocking that place is fucking phenomenal, because the stuff in that shop was top-tier.

I ended up picking out a cerulean swim skirt with delicate ruffles and a matching-colored bikini top, along with a fake flower clip and a pair of strappy sandals. If I’m going to die, I atleast want to go out hot as fuck, you know?

I haven’t gotten to changing into my new outfit yet-it’s neatly arranged at my feet. The upside of sitting on my ass doing absolutely nothing for the past few hours is that some of my pain has finally dulled. Seriously, how the fuck did that pub get away with having something that sharp on their door? If the real world ever comes back, I’m reporting that place for a full safety inspection. 

A soft knock raps against the door, and I assume it’s Chishiya, trying to get back in until it slowly swings open to reveal not his shoulder length blonde hair, but Mira’s long black hair. She peeks through the gap to look at me.

“Are you not hungry?”

Oh. now that I think about it, it probably is close to dinnertime. I hadn’t even thought about food until now; I haven’t eaten anything since that pack of ramen right before me and Chishiya’s first game. The stress must have completely killed my appetite, because I think this is the first time in my life I’ve ever forgotten about a meal.

In fact, even realizing it now I’m still not hungry, but going an entire day without eating probably isn’t going to do me any favors.

I nod, pushing myself up onto my elbows.

“Well, we’re all having dinner in the dining room.” Mira’s eyes flick to my swimwear. “Do remember to change first, okay?” Mira leaves without another word, shutting the door behind her. For some reason that ‘okay?’ felt condescending.

Eh. Ignore it. I always assume the worst when I’m stressed.

Still… I do want to see how this skirt looks on me.

Damn, I don’t look half bad. The skirt fits perfectly-just the right length, neither too long or short, with discreet built-in swim shorts hidden beneath the ruffles. The top hugs my curves in a way that makes me feel the world's more confident, and the flower clip adds a cute, playful little touch. Definitely a step up from my bloodied office attire.

I flick off the bathroom light, trailing my fingers along the wall as I step into the dim hallway. I walk to the door and push it open. I swiftly stride into the hallway, just itching to catch up with the others. I hate being the last one to arrive. It always feels like I’m going to miss out on something monumental.

So, the thing is, I had no idea where the dining room was. There’s no sign or helpful arrows to point me to it- just endless hallways. Which explains why I’m fifteen minutes late, slipping in just as the group is already gathered around a massive circular table, laughter and chatter bouncing off the walls. Everybody is gathered around a large circular table, chatting about something, laughing.

Everybody except for Chishiya. 

Chishiya is slouched in his seat with his trademark hands-in-pockets pose, stone cold and disinterested in whatever they’re saying. That’s probably why he’s the first person to notice me.

When he does, his bored frown shifts into something lighter, I’m not sure what exactly his face has contorted into now, but all I know is that it’s better than what it was before. To my surprise, Chishiya pulls his hands from his pockets and waves at me.

Wow, a wave?

I’m flattered.

I bite back a smile as I return the gesture, lightly jogging to the buffet area as soon as I realize everyone’s food sits untouched, waiting for me.

Great.

I grab a plate and head straight for the Karaage- my default food choice whenever I’m at a buffet- piling it on as fast as I can. God, this is embarrassing. I’m ninety-nine percent sure I walked right past this room fifteen minutes ago without even realizing. 

Plate finally loaded, I scurry back to the empty seat Chishiya had saved for me; between him and Kuzuryu. I drop into the chair with a hasty apology. I would say I don’t owe these people anything, and maybe if they wanted me to be on time Mira should’ve showed me to the dining hall, but I don’t want to get jumped on my first day here. Especially not by Aguni.

“Sorry to keep you all waiting. Nobody told me where the room exactly was.” I flash a smile, scanning their faces for annoyance. From what I can tell, nobody seems too annoyed. Infact, Danma gives me a smile, a way without words to tell me it’s alright. Or maybe he’s pissed at me and planning my assasination and is hiding it with a smile. Hope it’s not the latter. 

Damn, I really held everybody up. In what I think was three minutes flat, everyone except me and Kuzuryu are done, and even he isn’t far off from clearing the plate. I tune out Danma’s loud boasting to disinterested Aguni, but I can’t ignore the real, unforced joy in his voice. Not a fake happiness that those guys from the poker game had, but real.

A bitter taste rises in my throat. I feel disgusted that he can be happy in a situation like this.

…Why am I so negative?

I’ve been so focused on the darkness of this place that I’d forgotten my own light when I first arrived. I must’ve been the happiest girl in the world at that time. Hell happened to that? I shouldn’t be looking down on anybody for being positive when I was a hundred times more than them at the start.

Pessimism won’t help me. It doesn’t suit me. That’s something Chishiya and only Chishiya can pull off.

Before I know it, I’m done and so is Kuzuryu.

Then time just dissolves.

You know those moments where you’re having so much fun that time flies by like light- you’re just so in the moment that time doesn’t even seem to exist? Yeah. I can’t even pinpoint when or how we all started to click. Maybe it was when Danma said something absurdly fucking stupid, (so much so that I can’t even remember cause of how bad it was) so Aguni slapped him over the head- and me and Mira clapped hands over our mouths to stifle giggles, and apparently Chishiya was even grinning a bit. So Danma got fake-annoyed. Then… I don’t know. All I know, is that that next hour was fun as fuck. 

But of course, everything has to end at some point. As the hall visibly gets darker with nightfall, the fading light drains the color and smile from Danma’s face. His eyes lock onto Aguni’s with a sudden heaviness.

“Game time.”

Damn, the way he said that sent shivers down my spine. He went from jolly as hell, to… As menacing as a guy like Danma can be. Danma’s gaze swings to me and Chishiya, chin lifting in question “How many days do you two have left on your visas?” 

Uh… Shit. I forgot.

Thankfully,

“Five.” Chishiya to the rescue!

Danma pauses for a second, and he has this knot in his eyebrows, as if contemplating what to say. 

“How would you like even more?”

Man, it’s like I didn’t even get a say in if we joined them for a game or not. Chishiya just nodded his head and now we’re cruising to the nearest game arena we can find.

Whichever one of these people found this car absolutely scored. It’s a convertible- Mercedes? If I saw correctly. Didn’t even know they made ones on diesel. But man, I’ve always wanted to feel the wind hitting my face as I drive in cars like these. It’s not like I can see with all my hair flying in my face crazily, but I’ve more been craving the feeling anyways.

That’s why I claimed shotgun as soon as I saw the car. My vibe would be tainted if I had to be squished in the backseat like that. Haha; Chishiya is wedged between Aguni and Mira. I’m glad for Mira’s sake that Kuzuryu opted out of coming because backseat with three dudes? Noooo way.

We could’ve just split up, three of us in the rover, three in this car but whatever floats Danma’s boat, I suppose.

The tires crunch on the concrete as we pull up to a place all too familiar to me: A trampoline park. My dad used to take me here frequently as a way for me to get some exercise in, so much so that I was here at least three days a week. And I loved it. Sometimes I’d beg him to take me more but he’d refuse because of the expenses.

Now it’s a game arena. The large sign pointing inwards, seemingly bringing us closer to our deaths. It leaves a bitter taste on my tongue.

Sometimes the lights would cut out and be replaced by disco colors that painted everything surface in neon… oh, and there were these little obstacle courses we could do, rocking climbing walls, and my personal favorite of the bunch- laser tag. If there was one thing I could do for Japan in the Olympics, it’d be laser tag. I was shooting them kids down left and right. John Wick had and still has nothing on me.

Once the spur of the Mercedes’ engine fades, Aguni can’t be quicker in opening the door and getting out of his seat: He doesn’t even wait for the vibration of the car to stop. I, however, am not that eager. I take my time getting out. And as I stand, I wait for Chishiya.

He follows Aguni unhurried, hands buried deep in his pocket. ’ Maybe it’s just me, but I feel Chishiya’s outfit kind of contradicts the whole point of ‘not being able to hide weapons.’

I mean, he’s wearing this white Nike jacket and black and white beach shorts: You can fit a knife or two in the jacket, and a shotgun in the shorts. But Chishiya does whatever the hell Chishiya wants I guess.

When he finally ambles to my side, I match his slow pace toward the entrance.

“A glance,” I murmur, keeping my voice low enough so that the others wouldn’t hear over our footsteps. “Is that too much to ask? Just a look my way before signing us up for another damn death game?”

His response comes smooth as always: “We need to prove ourselves.”

“What?” I squint my eyes and cock my head towards him, looking him in the eyes. “No, we don’t.”

“Maybe not to us,” he concedes, gaze drifting to Danma’s back. “But to them.”

Drop it. I tell myself.

I have a gut feeling no matter how much back and forth we do he still won’t get it.

How does Chishiya know? He’s not psychic. And he’s missed my point entirely. Sure, he’s right: That’s probably what they were thinking, but I still want him to have at least given me a glance before we went through with it. Holy hell, Chishiya’s infuriating. Though for a reason I can’t place, he’s… he’s the type of infuriating I can work with. The type of infuriating I can’t help but like just a little. It’s strange.

“I used to come here all the time as a kid. Dad would drop me off after school or on the weekends.” I don’t have a reason for giving Chishiya this information. Simply, I just wanted him to know. Why? I’m not sure.

My train of thought is interrupted as Danma flings the entrance door open, damn near hitting my face. I puff my cheeks in annoyance, huffing, to let my annoyance be known. But it’s no use: He’s already disappeared inside, not even noticing that the edge of the door missed my nose by just a few centimeters.

The lobby is just how I remember it: With the same black styrofoam floors, gray shoe prints basically making it a gray one. The reception counter still displays those forms to consent to… I don’t know. I think it was something like if your child gets insanely injured here it’s not our fault? Someone like that. Except the papers are now sprawled out against the counter and even some on the floor, opposite to the calm manner they would’ve been composed in when I would come.

To the left on the same counter is the payment station where you’d pay for your time and those special sticky socks. They always made you pay for another one every time you came and my dad would always complain about that. I didn’t get it as a kid, but now, and as an adult- yeah, that’d definitely piss me off like it did to my dad. What pissed me off about it when I was a kid was that since I had those socks, my parents said those were all I needed. Once my old gang mates noticed the socks I was wearing they started flaming me, and my nickname was “‘Sticky ___.’” I swear it wasn’t that funny, man! To the even farther left is the entrance to the trampolines and the cubbies.

Then, if you turn right, there’s the rock climbing walls and the hallway to laser tag. there’s a big sign pointing to that hallway under it, “game arena.”

Holy shit. Fuck yes.

‘Definitely shouldn’t be this giddy over fighting to the death, but yes!

“Chishiya.” 

I grab his arm, shaking it with barely-contained excitement. My laughter rings out as I meet his eyes. He isn’t half as giddy as I am, he just has this amused look- he’s amused that I’m amused.

“I’m almost sure we’re doing laser tag,” I whisper, the worlds bubbling up between giggles. “We are so making it out of this alive!”

I release his arm , but I still can’t wipe the sunshine and rainbows grin from my face. As I look forward to the hallway leading to the arena, I can still feel Chishiya stare burning into the side of my face.

Why do men always think we can’t feel them staring? Stop it, you creep."

The laser tag lobby is smaller than I remember. Another arrow points us toward the actual arena, past those plastic strip curtains that always smell like sweat, for some reason. By this point, Aguni has caught up with Danma, and they both have pushed ahead. When I look back, Mira is walking by herself. She doesn’t seem to mind it.

We step through the hanging strips into the preparation room. The walls bristle with phaser rifles and sensor vests, their LED indicators dark. Just seeing all the equipment tacked up onto the wall fills me with an egotistical sense of security. From a quick scan of the room, I’d say there’s about ten, maybe more, maybe less, people here besides the five of us. At the room’s center sits a clean black table with five remaining phones. Perfect. Danma, Aguni and I each claim one immediately. As we do, the weight of strangers’ eyes prickles at my neck. Fucking vultures.

I snag an extra phone for Chishiya, tucking it securely between my arm and torso. The phone screen glows brightly in the dim area, black text on-white background reading:

“Time until game: 12 seconds”

Just in time then. I backtrack to Chishiya, pressing the spare phone into his hand as I give a little nod towards Mira, urging her to grab a phone. Despite that, she remains frozen, making no effort to grab herself a phone.

Okay. That’s a little… Strange.

But I have no time to dwell on it as I hear that all too familiar chime from our phones cut through the overlapping voices.

“Registration closed. There are a total of 16 participants.” Much more than last time.

“Difficulty: Five of clubs.” Five of clubs… the blackjack game was six of diamonds. Chishiya really had to use his brain for that one; it was barely physical. So then clubs are… what? Physical challenges? Team challenges? It can only be one of the two: That doesn’t give anything to hearts or spades. Or maybe the suits have nothing to do with the types of games. Can’t be sure.

“Game: Laser Tag.”  Knew it! Haha.

Another text pings across the screen.

“Rules: Players must divide into two equal teams. All participants must wear the provided sensor gear and participate in a game of ‘Laser Tag.’ Each chest shot awards one point to the shooter. Headshots awards two points. After being shot, players enter a one-minute cooldown period before becoming targetable again. The team with the larger sum of points by the end of twenty minutes wins.”

I glance up from my screen to find Chishiya reading over my shoulder instead of checking his own damn phone that I just gave him.

No hidden twists then- it’s just regular laser tag, except for the whole if-you-lose-you-die-thing. And as it is, I’m not nervous about that at all: We have a pretty good team for surviving. Aguni… he looks like he’d be a skillful sniper, you know? Danma is probably alright. Mira, too. 

Chishiya… we’ll just stick him in a corner where he’ll find a way to hack the game system and provide us with unlimited points.

“Please, divide into teams of eight. You have three minutes.”

We need three more players, then.

My eyes sweep across the dark room, analyzing the potential in every lonely soul. One group has already clustered together, so no chance of poaching anyone from them. Not like they look to be of any asset to our team anyway.

The opposing team has six members already, leaving them needing two while we require three. My gaze lands on a lanky guy with shoulder-length black hair and a silver eyebrow ring. He’s leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. He’s trying to be nonchalant like Chishiya, but no one can be as nonchalant as him.

However, there are two school girls cowering in the corner, and the way their hands are placed on each other are obscuring their school badges from my view. This does make me feel like a piece of shit, but, sorry. The other team can have them.

It takes me a few seconds to realize me and Eyebrow Ring have locked eyes. “What?” His eyebrow quirks as his mouth hangs to the last syllable of his word. I respond with an open-palmed gesture, beckoning him over. Looks like Mira had the same recruitment idea as me. She’s talking with this woman- who, might I say, has very long legs. She’s sporting a black bob with blindingly red lipstick: Looks like she just put some on. I have to hand it to her, that’s some dedication.

Eyebrow Ring peels himself off the wall with a grumble that turns into a smirk halfway through. He strides on up to me, his upper body swinging with each step he takes as if he’s on a tightrope trying to balance. His hair length is the same as Chishiya’s, though the middle of his hair is tied up.

“Join us.” I offer, extending my hand out of social reflex, not intending for Eyebrow Ring to take it. However, to my disgust, he takes it. I snatch my hand faster than a running cheetah, shooting him a look that only says ‘Fuck off.’

He emits a laugh so artificial it makes my skin prickle just thinking about it. “Ha, ha, ha.” 

“What? Staying loyal to your boy here?” Eyebrow Ring’s fingers jab towards Chishiya, staring him up and down with this nasty gleam in his eyes. Honestly, I’d forgotten Chishiya was still standing beside me- I’d assumed he just disappeared without a trace like I’ve come to realize is a trend with him.  

My boy? Hell, no. My instant rejection had nothing to do with Chishiya and everything to do with how this guy reminds me of those tryhard idiots from my gangster days… And also the fact I just met him five fucking seconds ago.

My head whips back to Chishiya, just to see the face on his face: Don’t know what I expected, he’s just looking at me to see what I’ll respond with. There’s no disgust or happiness or anything- just observation.

“No.” I bite out, whipping my attention back to Eyebrow Ring.

“Join us.” I say, this time my voice carrying an edge I didn’t know I possessed. I’ve never been the commanding type, but desperate times call for shitty experiments, right?

Eyebrow Ring scoffs dramatically, pivoting his torso to survey the opposing team with exaggerated deliberation. After three agonizing seconds of him absolutely milking it, he finally nods and saunters towards our side, continuing his leaning-of-the-wall to the wall behind us. Just say, ‘Sure,’ dude. I promise, it won’t kill you.

Looks like Mira got Bob Cut to join, too. Damn, those legs are gorgeous. 

So, there’s only one person that seems to be left for us. Luckily for us, she seems promising. She has an unlit cigarette hanging out of her mouth like Showoff did, though she doesn’t exude the same vibe he did.

I take in the woman’s most protruding part of her appearance; thick dreadlocks gathered into a high ponytail that makes her stand out like a blinding light in the sea of the rest of our black, straight hair.

 Our eyes meet. I offer a smile and wave.

She gives me a small smile back and takes the cigarette out of her mouth as she walks towards me.

“Hey.” I manage, hand smacking into the side of my thigh as it falls down.

“Hey.” She returns, giving a little nod and pursing her lip. We both equally aren’t really sure what to say- but know where the conversation is going. 

“Wanna join us?” I thumb-gesture behind me, then upon looking back realize I look stupid as fuck due to the fact the only person that is behind me and Chishiya is Eyebrow piercing, doing his impression of some moody teenager. Danma and Aguni are beside us, watching me finess these people into our group.

“Not like I have a choice.” She shrugs, her brief grin dissolving as soon as it came.

There’s a long pause between us, just staring into eachother’s soul.

“I’m Kuina, by the way.” She smiles.

“Hano.” I smile back.

A chime from our phones signals the end of the selection period.

Me and Kuina open our phones to see the white color behind the text changed to blue. How can I tell? Her face is blue. So is Mira's, and the long legged girl, and Danma’s, and Aguni’s.

“Please choose a vest from the wall. You have two minutes.”

Everybody goes up to the wall to grab their vests, each with its phaser rifles magnetically attached. I’d secretly hoped someone might need my help so I could flex in their face how good I am, but no. My mates snap their vests into place with ease. Which is good, everybody is competent. I was hoping for a little ego stroke, though.

Infact, it’s the other team that struggles. One of the highschool girl’s fumbles with sweaty, trembling fingers at her vests fastenings. While securing my own vest, I overheard her plea to her friend: “Just worry about yourself, okay?” So the friend obeyed. Bad decision.

However… Now, with ten seconds remaining, the vest still dangles uselessly from the shaking girl’s shoulders. Her and her friend are frantically trying to get it on her, while everybody else on red is just staring at them. Not helping. 

My stomach twists with guilt as the voice in my head whispers: One less threat. God, I feel horrible.

7…

6…

5…

4…

The one that can’t get the vest on is wailing while the girl helper is telling her to shut the fuck up and let her focus.

3…

2… The vest emits a high-pitched whine.

1.

The girl’s vest starts ticking down as she screams, and then- 

Boom.

The explosion paints the second girl in blood splatter from her eyebrows down to her knees.

Her blank eyes track downward to blood-slicked hands, where she then brings to her face, smearing it down. She looks over to her team, who is all looking at her like she’s the spawn of Satan. Oh, come on. Like you guys were of any help. Cut the poor girl some slack.

“Player 100027 has been eliminated from the game.” Again with that ID number. If I’m not mistaken. This looks to be that girl’s first game. Or- it would’ve been. Is it connected to when people arrive? After this, I’ll sneak a peek at Danma’s ID to figure more out.

“Players, please follow the blue or red arrows to your starting point.”

I don’t wanna get fucked like that, I’m listening to that damn voice. I’m moving before the announcement even finished, pushing through the plastic strip curtains. 

The blue arrows lead us upwards, granting our team the high ground advantage. Our half of the arena glows in cool azure hues, the obstacles and cover points all color-coded for our side. Despite my efforts, I can’t catch a peek at the other team, the arena’s design keeps them hidden below - exactly where we want them.

For what feels like forever, there’s a deafening silence. Nobody has anything to say. We’re all waiting for the game to start. My fingers flex around my phaser’s grip, tightening with stress. This game might very well lead to our death as gruesome as that girl’s. Though I plan to make sure it doesn’t. Not with my kickass skills. Hehe.

The voice that shatters the tension carries no dramatic buildup at all.

“Game start.”

[gamerbot-22]

Blinding Lights

Prompt: Dancing

TW/CW: Boothill's non-swearing, Transcribed Cowboy Accent, Boothill's got some funky shit going on with his eyes, I didn't set out to write this with Boothill/Aventurine but something came over me and the vibes are not not there, barely proofread and I appreciate spellchecks!

Word Count: 1,400

A/N: And so we come to the last ficlet in this series (for now!) I am. So insanely proud of myself for managing to be so consistent with a project for this long, especially one so expansive. Boothill being the final subject is also really like... is serendipitous the right word? He was the reason I even downloaded the game in the first place. I was drawn in by his Western Energy and Gods I am. So glad I was. HSR has become one of my favorite games in recent memory, and it's helped me get my writing mojo back. So thank you Boothill, thank you HSR, and thank everyone who's read the ficlets posted in this series <3 Also also, post writing this-- I CAN MAKE TWO OF MY FAVES BANTER AS A TREAT.

Likes and Reblogs appreciated (reblogs > likes) and Requests are Open! Read this story on Ao3 here! My Ao3 account got suspended for stupid reasons, so there’s no cross post as of right now. On Friday, April 11, this and the following fics will be posted there.

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The dividers in this post were made by @/gamerbot-22 (me!) ☆

© All rights reserved by miHoYo

"Be subtle." Can you believe that? "Be subtle," like that was something he needed to be reminded of. Wasn't his fault that a bounty so big meant folks were on the look-out for him on just about every other planet he landed on. Didn't matter what he did or how he did it, the IPC and its lackeys would always come sniffing around, and then he'd just have to move on to the next place.

Sure, starting out he bothered trying to "be subtle," but after all his time running from the long, gilded arm of the law, it was easier to just be himself. He wouldn't go out of his way to draw attention, but that didn't mean he was staying quiet either.

Case and point: If recon and intel gathering took Boothill to a place with a dance floor, he was going to use it. And neither hell nor high water would stop him from cutting a rug.

This place was definitely different than what one might expect to find a guy like Boothill inside. The lights were bright, reflecting off of the mosaic of coloured glass on the back wall and back onto the dance floor, creating patterns and images for the dancers to follow along with. And the dancers--shirt--they were a whole other beast. Every gown and suit was insanely elaborate, embroidered from shoulder to shoulder and down, with trains and feathers pressed and curled into swirling loops that put some exotic, off-world birds to shame. He had to stifle a laugh at the idea of every single person here simply being some kind of pheasant or chicken all dolled up for the night. Everything in this ballroom was pure spectacle, going as hard as it possibly could just to say it could. He respected it, even if it wasn't fully his thing, and since his contact had decided to keep him waiting for so long, he might as well make the most of it.

Most of the folks on the dance floor were moving in pairs, which only added to the mental image of a bunch of chickens trying to make an impression. He could probably get away with dancing by himself off to the side--and realistically that should've been what he did, considering he should stay easy to grab for when his contact showed up--but all that sounded boring. He wanted to dance, dangit, and he wasn't going to let a little thing like a lack of a partner stop him.

No sooner had he pushed off a decidedly ungilded wall, though, he laid eyes on his contact.

"Aw, what the fork--"

Violet eyes shone from across the room, only growing brighter, more prideful as their owner walked over. He was in the local fashion alright, sporting a modified version of his usual gaudy gambling jacket with a train that dragged behind him. If everyone else was a chicken, Aventurine was a peacock, as per dang usual.

"You're here early," Aventurine said, half-walking Boothill back to the wall, away from the dance floor and back into the only somewhat shadowy place there was in this aeonsforsaken light show. The cowboy's disappointment was immeasurable and his night was just about ruined.

"I was here on time," he countered. When Aventurine turned to look at the crowd, doing one quick survey to make sure no one was watching, Boothill pulled his hat down lower. As if that would do anything to detract attention from this horseshirt. "What, needed to preen all yer feathers before you came in?"

"It's called blending in," the gambler's eyes snapped back to Boothill immediately. Clearly there was no threat. "Something you couldn't be bothered to do, it seems." He didn't bother to stifle his chuckle as he looked Boothill over. True to form, he was in his usual poncho and boots. Aventurine decided not to ask how Boothill managed to get in dressed like that.

"Ain't exactly like I can go to a forkin' tailor and have a costume made up on such short notice."

"You could've tried for something. Honestly, even a normal jacket would be enough t--"

Boothill sneered, sharp teeth branded like knives. "I don' think us just standin' over here whisperin' n' shirt is a great play either, Mr. Fancypants."

Aventurine brushed off getting interrupted. He could work with difficult. It's how he made it this far. And now he had the power to make it fun.

"Is this you offering me a dance, cowboy?"

"Not with that attitude."

The blonde feigned insult, then apology, letting his head tilt over his shoulder as he brought a gloved hand to rest over his heart. "Fine, fine, if you want to dance while we talk, let's. You're right, it probably will make us blend in a little more."

Boothill didn't waste another second. He didn't stop to take Aventurine's hand or guide him along or anything. He just got up from against the wall again, fixed his hat so he could see where he was going, and started to move right to that prismatic, shifting light on the dance floor.

They both made it to the center of the floor, the crowd ebbing and flowing like waves around them, like they were in the eye of a gaudy, gilded whirlpool. It was actually kind of a lot for Boothill's eyes, even with the upgrades. Maybe because of them...

"I take it you're leading then?" Aventurine's voice broke Boothill's concentration, as well as his hand coming to rest on the outlaw's shoulder. At least, for a second, and then the colours started to get to him again.

"As enchanting as it is to dance with an outlaw, you know, I do have places I need to be--"

Boothill lowered his head and shook it. "Huh? Yeah, yeah, I can lead."

"Are you alright?"

"'M fine!" He blinked like a camera shutter, trying and failing to filter out the shifting colours. "Just gimme a second. Gotta get my bearin's. The forkin' lights're... a lot brighter up close."

"Alright, then I'll lead." Aventurine swung around to Boothill's front, taking his right hand in his left one and lifting it to shoulder height. "I take it you know how to waltz?"

He was still catching up. Squinting was helping to make it easier, but the nebulous hues of the lights were bothering him. And then Aventurine had the gall--

"'F course I know how t' waltz, what kinda hick d'you think I am?"

Aventurine's fingers flexed, only holding onto Boothill with his thumb to emphasize his shrug. "Alright, I just wanted to be sure. Be a good lead and all that."

"Yeah, yeah, just get your other hand in place before I change my mind."

"Are you okay? You seem especially prickly." Aventurine leaned his head forward, looking up into Boothill's face to try and get a read on him. He was squinting, and his lips were starting to draw back into another sneer, which were obviously not good signs.

He didn't have the patience to lie. "It's the forkin' light on the back wall. It's makin' my head ache."

"Alright, then let's just--" Aventurine turned so the two of them swapped positions. "There. Better?"

The outlaw's eyes did that camera shutter blink again. He held his eyelids open, focused in on the violet-cyan shine of Aventurine's eyes. It took a moment, which only served to make his dance partner's brows furrow with impatience, but... "Yeah. Better. Thanks."

"Alright," Aventurine sighed, "then follow my lead and listen closely, cowboy, because there's not a lot of time before people come looking for one of us." He shifted his weight to begin, quickly running over the steps to a waltz in his head. The gambler knew how to dance, but it wasn't often that he was away from roulette tables when he was out of his office and in places like this...

Only for Boothill to quickly take the gambler's waist, bucking his arm up onto his shoulder, and swing him around in a circle. Now that he could see clearly, he wasn't going to pass up a chance to lead. The sudden motion pretty succinctly took Aventurine's breath away in shock.

"Well?" Boothill smirked, flashing his sharp teeth and leaning down over him. No wonder the IPC couldn't get their hands on him, he recovered fast. "Get talkin', Mr. Fancypants."

[ozaitheestallion]

You said you immediately saw Ozai as being played as a drag queen?? PLEASE elaborate I'm so interested in the way ur mind works 🙏

Okay so maybe I’m just incredibly fucked up and deep down the queer horror rabbit hole (I’ve been watching a lot of Dragula, American Horror Story and classic horrors lately), but the second you start looking at Ozai through a drag, camp, “classic Disney villain” lens, it’s hard to see him any other way.

Like I watched this show as a kid when I originally aired and like basically everyone, I was absolutely terrified and sickened by Ozai, the shitty dad and ultimate big bad villain who is also not even really the main villain, right? Like that’s Azula or Zhao or whoever. That’s how basically all of us original viewers saw him and how a lot of new viewers still do. Fair enough. Not inaccurate.

However, I didn’t do rewatches of the show again, not until the revival in interest over COVID. I hadn’t rewatched it even once since it originally aired and so therefore I expected my viewpoint to change…but nowhere near as drastically as my view of Ozai did.

I’m not saying Ozai is written to be viewed as a drag character, because of course he isn’t, but as I said, once you start looking at him through that specific lens, you won’t be able to see him any other way.

He’s kept in the shadows unless we need a dramatic scary reveal. He’s constantly making dramatic, prose-filled speeches for the benefit of…like…no one lmao like most his scenes are one on one confrontations. He has a very dramatic design, being a conventionally attractive man yet has that fuck ass goatee, the best eyeliner in the country and more detail put into his hair than any other character gets.

He does his whole reveal as the Phoenix King that goes off without a hitch, perfectly rehearsed. This was a surprise to no one but Azula. He got every damn person in the palace in on this stupid reveal. They already know he’s going to become a new ruler with a new title. They already know. This isn’t for their benefit. He did an entire reveal just for the benefit of his kid. If there’s one thing a queen loves, it’s a dramatic unnecessary reveal.

As he fights Aang, he just keeps making these speeches that a child will either not be interested in or too far away to even hear or appreciate, yet he keeps going anyway.

Right up until the end and then going into the comics, he’s dramatic, bitter and playing everyone against each other even though he has absolutely nothing to gain anymore. He puts Zuko and Azula against each other and antagonises Ursa even though it will gain him nothing and do nothing except kill time. Insults for the sake of insults and mess for the sake of mess. The fact insults of far greater power can be thrown back at him in his position is something he doesn’t even consider. Just messy for the sake of being messy and evil for the sake of being evil.

Ozai would fit nicely alongside classic queer-coded Disney villains like Ursula, Scar, Hades, Maleficent and Captain Hook.

He’s so dramatic and so over the top with his cruelty, his crimes and his villainous actions, yet is completely and utterly committed to the bit he’s doing. There’s no self aware clever jabs like Azula or obvious moment of “look at how ridiculous he is” like with Zhao. Ozai and his writing are completely committed to what he’s doing and burning down the entire world literally by hand, and at no point is it questioned. It’s like watching Divine in a John Waters film. This is simply what the character I doing and you’re the ridiculous one for questing them.

Ozai takes himself so seriously and so literally and is so very offended and genuinely surprised when he’s questioned and called out, (like why on earth would he think burning his son’s face is a valid teaching moment or burning the entire earth kingdom will in any way be a good start to his new empire), that it becomes camp.

This is…extremely long and meandering and tbh I don’t think there’s any way for me to really clearly define why I view Ozai as an example of a classic queer/drag coded villain. If you don’t agree and do take his portrayal as an abusive father and an imperialist tyrant seriously and that’s how you prefer to view the story, then by all means do that. I’m not trying to change your mind.

I’m just saying that sometimes our views of things can change dramatically as we ourselves change as people, and sometimes those changes are extremely entertaining, nonsensical and fun to explore.

Like the IT remakes, some unspeakable horrors can also be viewed and enjoyed as queer adjacent comedies if you look sideways and saying. And sometimes the unspeakable horrors are better that way.