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brayneworms · 1 year ago

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prompt: l lawliet + food play + pink

wc. 2.8k. gn!reader, foodplay, virgin!l, handjobs, sliiiight come eating, reader is a wet cat in a cardboard box kinda, safe sane and consensual, no real power dynamics.

L contextualises things in the way he sees the world.

Strings of numbers, statistics, behavioural patterns that he's memorised to a 'T' until he can tell guilt from the aversion of an eye or fury from the remnants of nails pressed into the palm of someone's hand. It's why maybe something like sex or desire is a struggle for him. It's not that he doesn't understand it, it's more like he doesn't see the—the need for it, or whatever. You chalk it up to him being extremely busy and also probably totally asexual and don't think about it.

(Don't think about it much.)

It sort of surprises you that it's you he corners with his questions about. Maybe he's more embarrassed than he lets on—as it is, he looks cool as a cucumber save for the faintest shade of pink across his cheekbones. There's no way he would escape a conversation about it from anyone on the squad without a degree of ragging. Misa would squeal like a pig if L dared to broach the topic with her, you're sure. Matsuda would blush bright red and trip over all his words, and Aizawa would probably stare at him like he'd set his firstborn on fire.

And Light is Light. He probably knows little more than L, for all the airs he puts on.

So it's you he comes to. When it first starts, you think it has something to do with a case or lead he's hunting. Tell me, have you had sex before?

Perched like a frog, licking whipped cream off his finger. You don't know if he's doing to be provocative or not; don't know which is worse, that he's aware of what he's doing or not.

"This isn't exactly proper workplace conversation L."

A flicker of a smile. Cheeky, omniscient. "Feel free to report me to HR, in that case."

You do answer—honestly and concisely, if not with a shade of awkwardness. He's essentially your boss. But L seems so far removed from the worlds of sexuality and desire that it seems harmless, occupational, and eventually it stops feeling embarrassing. Out of nowhere—what is the purpose of restrains in an intimate context? Why do you think some people like to feel as though they have no control in the bedroom? Would you say that visual pornography has given watchers unrealistic expectations of actual intercourse?

One night, the two of you alone in front of a big glowing screen, turning to him and asking. "Why do you ask me this stuff, anyway? Is it for a case?"

"No," he says neutrally. A quick glance from his dark eyes you could almost describe as coy. "I'm just... curious."

"Curious," you echo, deadpan. "You?"

"Does that surprise you?" he murmurs. You almost feel that your honest answer—yes—would be insulting now, so instead you just shrug and mumble something incoherent under your breath. "You're not completely wrong. I thought having a better understanding of things like sex and power dynamics would be beneficial in the long run. Most people have a greater knowledge of it than me, which—puts me at a disadvantage." He says these last words with an air of revulsion, as though the very concept of knowing less than someone sours in his mouth, and you chuckle at his childishness.

"That makes sense." You pause. Wonder if you're reading this all wrong, then barrel ahead anyway. "Wouldn't actually experiencing it for yourself lend a better understanding than anything else, though?"

L's eyebrow raises. His smile has vanished, leaving him bug-eyed and unreadable. "What are you suggesting?"

He's not stupid, and you're not subtle. He knows exactly what you were suggesting. The fact that he's trying to get you to go into more detail rather than firing you on the spot is probably a good sign, and further than you expected to get. You squirm in your seat.

"You know. It's like being told about how something feels rather than knowing," you say awkwardly. "I'm just—can I ask—"

"It only seems fair," L says slowly. "After I've been badgering you with my own questions for so long." His chair spins; he rests his wrists on his rucked-up knees, fingers steepled in front of him. "Please."

Hot-faced, you spin your chair aimlessly. "Okay, well, uh—have you? I mean, before?"

L hesitates before he shakes his head, an almost imperceptible twitch that has his dark hair floating. You swallow the sudden large dry lump in your throat.

"Okay. So. Probably somewhere to start," you mumble.

L seems to consider this. "Would you be willing?"

You don't have the right to be surprised, with all the dancing around the subject, but you are, still. You choke on your spit and fly around to look at him, which is a mistake. His gaze is so dark and intense, and you think he can see right through you before you even open your mouth to answer.

"I'm not—" you stammer, with no idea what you're going to say. "I mean—"

"I had assumed you would be," L goes on calmly, but you catch the slight flicker of his eyes, a ghost of uncertainty that makes your chest squeeze. "If I have read your responses incorrectly, though, feel free to forget I asked. I can guarantee no awkwardness tomorrow."

"It's not that," you blurt. L blinks at you, go on. "It's just... do you have any idea what you're, you know. Into? Where to start?"

L's eyes flicker, the barest furrow knitted between his brows. You can tell he hasn't thought too hard about it. "What would you suggest?" he asks, curling his long fingers over his knees.

You swallow. "Well... anything you like the idea of, I guess. Something familiar, to ease you into it."

L's eyes roll over to his desk, where a perfectly glistening slice of strawberry cake waits for him. Pink sponge and halved red berries, topped with pale pink cream. "Familiar," he echoes. "I may have a suggestion."

So you feed L a strawberry just to get started.

Hold it up. It's distinctly awkward; L just stares at it for a moment, the berry dusted with frosting that glistens between your fingers. You tell him, "If you're not comfortable with this, sex is probably going to be—"

He leans forward and plucks the fruit from between your fingers; you feel the barest ghosting of teeth, the sweep of his tongue sharp and curious against the pads of your fingers before he leans back again. You watch the motions of his jaw and throat as he chews and swallows. Pins you with his headlamp stare, wide and dark.

You deconstruct the strawberry cake carefully, removing the berries and setting them to the side. Cast a look over at him. "Take off your shirt?"

L twists the hem of this shirt for a few moments before removing it. It feels so strange to see him devoid of clothing, like a knight removing their armour. Pale ribs, pinched waist. He's not whipcord-thin like you had imagined—there's lean muscle packed under the skin, his stomach flat and somewhat soft. It flexes almost nervously when you look at it. He reclines back on his bed without being told, bracing his weight onto his elbows, legs dangling off the side.

"You sure about all this?" you ask, glancing from the smooth planes of his white skin—shit—to the plate of crumbling pink dessert. "Didn't think you'd be into, you know. All the mess."

"I have a shower," L says reflexively.

You take that as permission to approach with the plate. You place the strawberry halves in a red dotted line, starting at his clavicle, watching him shiver and flex at the cold touch. Down—one at the bottom of his ribs, one above his bellybutton, one at his naval just above the low sling of his jeans. He's started to flush, prettily pink down his chest. It makes you slightly dizzy.

"Okay. So. Okay." You try not to feel so nervous, but it's more like you feel out of place, or time, or space. It feels surreal, basically. Standing between L's legs with your fingers stained pink from fruit and frosting. Him looking up at you like that, all big dark round eyes and slightly parted lips. Damn it. You take a deep, steadying breath. "Okay, so, I'll start now if you're okay. And just say if you don't want—if you want to stop, or if you don't like anything, just say, okay?"

"I understand the basic premises of consent, if that's what you're trying to affirm." The words are all L, but there's an element of breathlessness to them.

"Just making sure we're clear," you mutter. You lean forward and smooth a palm over his collarbones. They're sharp, they jut up to meet your hand like cut diamond, and you hear and see his breath hitch, which is slightly intoxicating. His skin is warmer and softer than you thought it would be. You run your hands over his shoulders and neck, which he squirms away from with a wrinkled nose.

"No neck?" you ask.

He shakes his head. So no neck.

Once you're done exploring this part of his body, you lean forward, close your lips around the strawberry and bite the end of it, sinking your teeth into the flesh. Pink juice runs down your chin; L's eyes follow it, transfixed, as you tilt your head forward and push your mouthful against his lips. They part unquestioningly, and you push the strawberry into his mouth with your tongue. Your lips brush together, tantalising and sweet with sugar. A mimic of a kiss, a palimpsest of intimacy. You don't want to overwhelm him, anyway.

This goes on; your hands over his chest next, the soft pectorals. An experimental brush of your thumb over his left nipple that makes his whole body shudder. He's so sensitive, reacting to every prod and touch and tweak with a jerk and a shiver. Gooseflesh blooms up his skin, pebbling his nipples, and when you tweak the other one gently he lets out a choked sound.

Finding the strawberry nestled under his ribs. Taking it between your teeth and passing it to him. His face gets pinker with each one. Stomach, concave, flexing with every hard breath. A ticklish spot over his belly button. Strawberry, bite, pass. The flex of his jaw as he chews.

Fingers over his waist, indenting the skin as much as you dare. You try not to think of how easily he would bruise. Brushing your touch over his lower abdomen makes his breath catch again. You find the strawberry, hold it between your lips. L cranes his neck, searching this time—he thinks he knows the game, has memorised the steps, found the pattern, the sequence. He doesn't know that the best sex is the unpredictable kind. This time, you press your lips against him and when your tongue pushes the strawberry into his mouth it stays there. His lips part, slack against yours, either in shock or inexperience. You allow yourself the briefest twirl of your tongue against his before pulling back with a wet pop.

L stares at you as you retreat. The strawberries leave pale pink residue on his skin. Pulling back fully reveals the hardness between his legs, pushing up against the dark denim of his jeans. He grunts when your eyes land on it, either out of embarrassment or frustration. You swallow and its like sandpaper.

"Still want me to...?"

"I have not changed my mind," he replies, slightly hoarsely and a beat slower than usual. You shrug, smooth your hands over the tent at his crotch, and he whines. It's the most searing noise you've pulled from him yet, and all from some halfhearted palming over the jeans. It sends a thrill zipping through you, hot and addicting. His arms shake with the weight of holding himself up, neck craning to follow as you sink to your knees between his legs.

You unzip him, pop the button, and he groans slightly at the freedom from the constraints of his clothes. He's fully hard, straining against his dark underwear. You experiment, rubbing at the tip, feeling for the wet spot, and he keens and thrashes, losing his stability and crashing to the mattress. He makes a frustrated noise just after, as though cursing himself for his own lack of control.

"That—" he swallows hard, breathes shakily. "That feels..."

Your hand hovers. "Am I stopping?"

"No, I don't..." He scrambles. L scrambles over his words. "Please, continue."

You stroke him over his underwear for a few concentrated minutes, mostly enjoying the way he twitches and huffs and occasionally makes soft, whiny noises, the way he starts to rut his hips against your hand. No technique, no rhythm, just some sort of baseless desire that you find incredibly hot. There's almost a frustration to it that makes you want to laugh—of course there would be nothing more agonising to someone like L than seeing what he wanted so close to him but being unable to accomplish it himself.

When he starts gritting his teeth, you pull his boxers down to his thighs and he makes a choking, embarrassed sound. When you wrap your fingers around his cock for the first time, finding it velvety-soft and leaking, his eyes roll back and his hips arch into the loose wet tunnel of your hand. "Oh," is all he says. Small and soft like he's surprised. His neck twists and his mouth presses into the starched white sheets. "Oh," he says again as your fist moves slowly, stroking with intent, up and down. He's not overly big, fits nicely in your hand, makes swiping over the head where the pre beads with your thumb nice and convenient. And you love the way he shudders and thrashes when you do it.

"How does that feel?" Your voice is lower than you remember it being. L cracks a bleary eye open; his face is flushed bright pink now, a flush that bleeds all the way down his chest, blending in with the strawberry stains.

"It feels," he starts, before his brow pinches. "I—I am not sure how to—how to describe..."

"It's okay," you tell him. His thighs shake, flexing against the edge of the mattress. When he tips his head back the cords in his pretty throat bulge, so biteable. "You can come whenever."

"I wasn't—oh," he gasps, squirming. "I wasn't aware I n-needed your—permission, oh."

"Yeah, well," you say intelligently, a little struck dumb by the sight before you. "Just making sure we're on the same page."

"A-and what page is that?" he pants, thrusting his hips messily into your hand. He's so fucking sensitive that you swear you can see his eyes growing shiny.

"The one where I help you out, so don't be a brat," you murmur. L laughs breathlessly, trying, you think, to summon some retort. You twist your fist around him and it died, half-formed in his brain, his eyes rolling back and fingers flexing hard in the sheets.

After another minute, he reaches out and grabs your wrist hard enough to bruise. He doesn't say it—can't, maybe. But you know. Your pace speeds up just a touch and he honest to god moans, spilling out of him soft and breathy before he comes, streaking over his stomach in pearly arcs. You watch him flinch at the contact, fingers slipping on your wrist. His chest flexes—in, out, in, out.

You collect a big scoop of pink frosting on your finger and dip it in the come starting to cool between his pecs before pressing it to his lips. L's brow wrinkles, startled—but he opens his lips and lets your fingers pass into the hot cavern of his mouth. Like a cat he licks your finger clean, pointed pink tongue prodding with no technique or flourish, just something steadfast, something stubborn.

You do him the dignity of tucking his softened cock back into his underwear and zipping up his jeans. Unsure how to proceed until L sits up rather abruptly. His hair is even more tousled from his tossing and turning as he reaches for a tissue to wipe himself down.

He looks at you. "I understand it's customary to offer some sort of equivalent exchange in these circumstances." A pause whilst he gathers his breath. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm not quite feeling up to the task."

His tone is normal, if a little shaky. You rock back on your heels. "Did you like it?"

L blinks at you. "My curiosity has been sated," he says, carefully. "Yes, I believe I did enjoy it."

Well, that's a relief if nothing else. The pink remnants of the strawberry cake it on the plate; the shade matches his blush.

#death note x reader #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet smut #death note smut #🫀.scribes #dom!reader #gn!reader

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silvery-orchid · 2 years ago

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BE A BETTER PET FOR ME.

synopsis: neuvillette found a perfect use for you after you left your homeland. (honestly this is so depraved and filthy and messed up i will just give you the warnings so you can decide if you wish to read it. neuvillete the man that you are!!)

pairing: dom!yan! neuvillette x fem!sub!reader; (mentions of dom!yan!dottore x reader) warnings: blowjobs, dubcon (barely), humping, dom/sub dynamics, breeding, pet play, hard kinks, masochist reader, facials, handjobs; mentions of: gang bangs, blackmail, hypnosis, bdsm, bondage, has plot kind of, probably more i can't think of right now.

You've always had to answer to someone in your life. Someone higher than you because they gaze down on everyone and you should be grateful they spared you a glance and asked you anything. If they relied on you get something done - at the orphanage you grew up in or the elections you ran - you should have counted yourself lucky they needed you at all. Leaving Snezhnaya wasn't easy by any means but luck and bravery happened to be on your side that night. No, maybe it was an idea of grandeur on your part?

Regardless of the reason, in your life you learned not to ask too many questions and Fontaine was not hard for you to get used to. Being part of this justice system reminded you of something familiar but far more noble than sending children to their punishments. And, while it did resemble a show, you weren't surprised by that - the only thing that surprised you was your boss.

Neuvillette, the archetypal leader with enough calm and manipulative wit to stand elevated above everyone. People marvelled at him, some were jealous that you were the one to carry his paperwork back and forth and you only have Neuvillette to thank for being so ruthless and cold they never suspected anything else.

In public settings, he didn't allow you to even stand near him. During work hours, you were treated just like anyone else. But after everyone left; Neuvillette never let you run away.

At first, given his nature, you thought you were being too paranoid. You thought his intense gaze that made you drop your pens was just his way of saying you were not good enough. His tugs at your clothes were only reminders of how sloppy you were, surely. He only did that to make you more presentable because he couldn't stand the sight of you. That must have been it.

However, you quickly realized that he was simply a man who wanted to control everything. People had specific roles to fulfil in his eyes and you should have been even more paranoid about your own.

Doubts went away on the night his gloved hand slid up your skirt during a banquet he didn't deem important enough. He saw you standing in the hallway and told you to follow him. He was so calm and composed even when locking the door behind him and pressing you against it. He didn't flinch while you were confused, his fingers were already sliding up your thigh.

'Your dress tonight is far too tempting. Simply groping you to fix it won't be enough.' were the last words he said before sliding your panties to the side and covering your mouth with his hand.

Neuvillette did not have enough regard for you that would disobey his wishes and, while you just remember being hazy, you don't remember fighting his advances.

And that is how it all began. Soon enough, your main job of sorting documents became secondary even if you still had to carry it out with perfection.

Your main job and joy transformed into being perfect enough for him to breed and break. You were lucky nobody was allowed to enter into his office without a direct invitation. If anyone did, they might have found you pressed against the walls or chained to his desk. Perhaps, they would have found you on a pile of important paperwork you brought with his cock buried deep inside while he manhandles you.

But he was so good at it. Sometimes you would stand on the sidelines during his speeches or trials and you would feel warm just from looking at him on that podium. He was always, always above you and a twisted need find it's way between your legs. You would never admit to anyone but him to where you disappeared to. You would never even tell him how, if he was on the radio, you would masturbate to his voice alone.

And fuck, did he have such a nice voice. Anytime it gave you a command, your spine would feel it. If he gave you praise and called you a 'perfect dumb toy', your body would get flushed. If he degraded you? You just felt the need to hear his insults over and over again. Neuvillette was a selfish man, but he loved to see and hear you break.

Right now, you were sitting down next to his chair. He was signing off the final papers you brought with one hand while his other absentmindedly played with your hair.

He would soon be finished. Your eyes carefully traced his movements in anticipation. Soon he would be done and you wouldn't have to keep rubbing your thighs together. Sometimes you would glance at this lap and see that he was already half hard. His libido was insatiable. And it felt so nice to know you were the only one he would breed and stain with his cum.

When he put the last stamp, you looked up at him. He didn't issue you a command and you didn't dare to do anything on your own.

'What? Are you looking at me and hoping for something?'

His voice was always cold unless he was moaning and panting against yohr body. Perhaps that is why you enjoyed everything he did if it made you feel wanted by a man like him?

'Are you so eager to moan out you love me while you cream all over my cock again?'

He hadn't even done anything and you were starting to get wet. Who would imagine such a proper man respected by all would ever say such a thing? Nobody. And that was the allure. Only you knew how much his depravity ran.

'Pet, move over in front of me.' A command. Finally. He could see your eyes light up as you dragged yourself over the floor to kneel down. Your thighs rubbed together and Neuvillette realized just how much he had spoilt you when your hand reached for his belt.

He glared at you and that was enough sign that you had done something wrong. To make it look like an accident, you placed it on his knee instead and rubbed small circles just so that he could feel the warmth of your skin.

Maybe he would punish you by tying you up again? Or he would deny your orgasms and cum on your stomach to prove you weren't good enough for him to actually fuck?

'Tell me pet, am I the best man you've ever been with?'

That was odd. Neuvillette never asked you questions of this nature. Usually they were only questions during passion like: 'You love being dragged on the floor don't you?' and 'Wouldn't you just look so good pregnant and stuffed with my seed?'. But this was new.

'The best man I've been with?' Maybe this was a new game of making you embarrassed? It certainly did the trick

'Y-Yes.' 'Prove it to me then. Before I replace you.'

Even from the darkness inside his office and your current position now you could see that light smirk he had while resting his head on his hand. He wanted to be especially cruel tonight but you never thought he would replace you so soon.

With a shaky hand and a racing mind you reached out for his belt. He allowed it this time but he wasn't amused. If he wanted to replace you, you'd just have to make him feel better than ever before.

Your thighs were so hot and warm you couldn't control yourself. You wanted nothing more than to put his cock in your mouth. No time to undress him or tug down your own clothes.

Neuvellitte let you just free his cock from the restraints and it was already hard by that look on your face. Warm skin, glassy eyes that didn't look anywhere else and complete obedience were in front of him. How could he not enjoy the face you didn't even realize your mouth was open before you pressed yourself forward to lick his tip.

He was such a pale man and yet his tip was the most beautiful shade of red to you. Your fingers wrapped around his girthy and veiny cock and your hips jerked slightly. You remembered how nice it felt when it was inside you - stretching you and hitting all the spots. You had to thank his generosity by circling the tip of it with your tongue. Your excitement was so immense that your mouth was filling with spit and since it was so late Neuvillette didn't care if it got all over his cock and dripped down to his pants.

You were so eager and adorable, looking blissful before he even did anything to you. He thought it would make him happy but instead he furrowed his brow.

'Not good enough.'

You barely had time to register what he said before he gripped your jaw and pulled your head up. The sudden shift had you groaning because you were still on your knees.

'You say i am the best man you've been with yet that look on your face didn't change.'

What was he talking about?

'It looks the same on the photos where you're sucking off that doctor. Tell me, did you take me for a fool?'

All the warmth in your body suddenly disappears. You feel cold, colder than ever. Maybe even cold like your homeland and the messed up laboratory Dottore forced you in. Neuvillette knew. He knew about your past and the fact you were a fugitive. Would he turn you in? Wait, was this his messed up trial to prove you didn't deserve this comfortable life?

You were shivering by this point and refusing to cry but you simply couldn't stop your eyes from getting teary when Neuvillette tossed an envelope and all the photos flew out.

It reminded you what you ran way from and what formed all these kinks Neuvillette triggered again.

There was a photo of you in a cow bikini drinking milk from a bowl on the floor with bruised hands. Then, there was one of you being tied to his table. Another one of you with a special device that hypnotised you. One where you were covered in cum all over your body. And the last one was the one Neuvillette spoke of; it was from when Dottore made you fuck him and some of his clothes. A perfect shot of you giving one of them a blowjob that he took.

But you ran away! You did everything you could! Was this a warning? How did Neuvillette get this envelope?

'I never thought you would dare lie in front of me. You should know better than that.'

His voice was cold but never like this. Never did you feel hatred from it but not it was different. Neuvillette hated you and you lost everything you had. Your hair was standing up, your hands were shaking and you could feel your heartbeat pounding away in your ears. Neuvillette was getting blurry and you were growing more desperate.

Then, when he saw you like that, completely afraid and dependent on him, Neuvillette's twisted desires grew. No where on those photos did you look so lost and desperate. He was probably the first man to make you feel that way and he couldn't deny how your brokenness made his cock throb. Then, he decided to be your saviour instead. Preventing crime and punishing it went hand and hand. He would throw you a bone to cling to, and would get a pet even more eager to please.

How desperately he wanted to see your ruin. To hear it and taste it on his tongue.

'Prove to me how desperate you are and I might take pity on you.'

Save you from himself? You aren't sure if it was the glimmer of hope or the messiness in your head at all those years in Dottore's hands that made you act but your blood started to flow and bloom again.

All you had to do was prove just how good and desperate you are. Nobody was better at that than you and nobody got more wet at the idea of it.

You placed your knees on the sides of Neuvillette's left leg. Those glassy eyes of yours and tear strained cheeks were a sight to behold when he saw you were looking up at him in marvel. Then, you rested your head on his knee and reached to jerk him off with your right hand. Your head was hazy and tired, but your hips were moving on their own. You were grinding down on his boot; you were fucking yourself crazy on it.

That night, you kept humping his foot until you reached the most intense and messy orgasm. You were so fucked out and desperate you probably didn't even know you were drooling and slobbering all over his pants while moaning how you were a good pet; how badly you wanted him to fuck you. Fuck, you didn't even realize your hand had stopped moving before he reached his high because you tired yourself out and fell asleep.

But Neuvillete didn't mind; he simply let you stay on his lap looking so serene before he gave his cock a few final strokes to paint your face white.

Maybe he should thank that man for sending him this envelope. Maybe even for training you to be such a perfect pet. But one thing was for sure, he definitely wouldn't let you go anytime soon.

avert you eyes. i was hormonal

#yandere neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #genshin smut #neuvillette smut #genshin x reader #genshin neuvillette #yan genshin #genshin imagines #genshin impact

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twistmusings · 6 months ago

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florid and (arguably) azujade are feasting this chapter update. congrats us

Honestly Anon, you're so right.

Chapter 7 is so interesting for Octavinelle - largely because we do get to see so much of how they think of each other and themselves, and we get to see so much of their relationship with each other. Honestly the shippers are thriving, but so are so many Jade and Floyd fans.

CW: Spoilers, Twisted Wonderland Character Shipping and mentions of Neurodivergence under the cut in case that isn't your cup of tea. It's very long and examines Floyd and Riddle's and Jade and Azul's dynamics throughout TWST and is sort of Character Analysis as well. Special note that there are Visual spoilers under the cut that will spoil some of the jokes from this chapter, so proceed with caution.

First, Floyd, who we see is outright distraught when everything goes right. Honestly at this point it makes me, as an ADHD person, struggle to not view Floyd as also having ADHD. I tend to not actually assign the characters neurodivergence or diagnose them, but honestly his characteristics really point to him being understimulated and just generally miserable because he's not doing anything and that's boring him. I have heard this from so many other folks with ADHD and have experienced it myself. I think, truth be told, that Floyd is a really good picture of a young person with ADHD. Especially as someone who was just properly diagnosed later in life - I would get these random, massive intense moods and would never be able to explain them until I began to suspect I had ADHD. If we consider Floyd's general characterization - he hates to be 'bored', he hates to force himself to do things that he doesn't want to do, he had random, intense moods, randomly struggling with some academics while really excelling in the things that interest him, comparing himself to other people and not understanding why he's different ... like, yeah, as a person with ADHD I relate to him so much. It's so interesting to me because Japan in general has a lot of medical bias against diagnosing and managing neurodiversity, so I think generally speaking, he's honestly a really well written example of someone who is struggling. I think his portrayal is probably so important for young people who play the game because it makes them feel normal and accepted, and I can't deny that.

And then Floyd and Riddle... these two are so funny. Like, if you had to ask me any character that shows having a crush on someone else canonically, I would probably point to Floyd and how he acts with Riddle. Considering that they're teenagers and we know neither he nor Riddle have any experience dating (none of the characters except Ace really do), I think it's really charming because like... are they annoying the fuck out of each other? Yeah, and I think that's pretty realistic for people who are 17 who have crushes on each other. Of course, I don't want to say I support people annoying or antagonizing their partners, but they are young people who are still learning how life works. I realize that teasing =/= having a crush on someone, but like...

In the recent stitch event they had this dialogue

Riddle gets so genuinely happy when Floyd praises him. Even Jack takes note of it. And then in Floyd's Labwear...

This interaction is so telling of the sort of relationship that they have with one another - first Floyd interprets their interactions as playing. Second, Riddle takes note that Floyd is in a bad mood which means that Riddle pays enough attention to him to notice when he's having a bad day. And then you have Jade over there just like 👀. It's so goofy but it's kind of wholesome also because it shows that in spite of everything, Riddle still shows concern for Floyd and Jade is a nosy sibling.

I don't know how many people have actually read the comic anthology, but there's a side story with Floyd and Riddle where Riddle is trying to study how to control himself better following his OB and Floyd, of course, comes to bother him and notices him reading advanced books and that ends in this interaction.

Like, is Floyd being a shit? Yes, of course, but he also doesn't take it back when he says that he thinks that it's admirable that Riddle works hard.

They really are the duality. Please enjoy this too-high effort shitpost I made.

And then add the fact that in the most recent story chapters the thing that gets Floyd to wake up is Silver and Jamil reminding him of the entrance ceremony where Riddle threw him through the air, and Floyd essentially being like "Yeah goldfishie is fun that was fun" and that being what snaps him out of it? Like these two are fated to irritate the hell out of each other by the story itself.

Also I think it's such a funny cute touch that the reason Floyd even started irritating Riddle is because Riddle couldn't control his temper and flung him. Floyd was just being curious, and while, yeah he probably should have asked before he touched Riddle's hair because he was curious if it would feel hot, Riddle immediately rose to meet his energy, and generally speaking we know that Floyd is a physically motivated person. He likes to fight, and he likes to test his strength. No one else caused a scene at the Sophomore orientation except Riddle. You know, the character that is almost entirely focused on not breaking rules? Riddle painted a massive target on his own back with his temper. And honestly, what I think does make it work is that even though Floyd teases Riddle literally all the time, he does respect Riddle. Riddle is interesting to him because he's strong and reacts when Floyd irritates him. As I said before, on Floyd's end at least, the antagonism is playful, and considering Floyd's relationship with Jade and Azul it's easy to see why. It's how he was raised to view affection from friends and peers.

Now, how about Riddle's side of things? Well, while we don't get a ton of canon crumbs from Riddle, there's at least a few things that we do get. We know that Riddle sort of resents that Floyd teases him, but he has been told multiple times by other people that Floyd is just trying to get a rise out of him. And yet, every time Floyd compliments Riddle and then immediately starts teasing him, Riddle falls for it. On some level, I'm sure it's because Riddle likes the attention just as much as Floyd, even if for a different reason. Riddle gets put down a lot - from his dorm and from his own mother. But even if Floyd teases him, Floyd also gasses him up because, like I said, Floyd genuinely thinks highly of Riddle. Riddle gets complimented and he gets smug about it because he thinks highly of himself, and it probably feels good to have that recognized.

Compare Riddle's interactions with Floyd to the ones he has with Jade, for example.

From the Spectral Soiree event.

There are a couple reasons why I feel like this is important to note. First, Riddle recognizes that Jade is making fun of him immediately. Riddle also misses Jade's sarcasm. Riddle isn't good at reading Jade - he finds Jade unpredictable and malicious, and interprets this as Jade making fun of him. In contrast, you don't see Riddle outright refuse a compliment from Floyd - he knows that Floyd is being upfront about how he feels when he says the things he does, but he doesn't know that about Jade. Riddle is also the butt of the joke here, whereas if we compare it to the similar situation that he went through with Floyd during the Tropical Turbulence event.

Floyd is teasing Riddle, yes, but in this situation he isn't making Riddle the butt of the joke, he's just causing a little bit of chaos. Floyd already has a plan in place, but Riddle the two aren't arguing with each other. It's also important to note that Floyd is one of the few characters outside of his dorm that Riddle really banters with comfortably.

The other thing is that though they compete with and annoy each other, Floyd and Riddle are actually genuinely pretty nice to each other otherwise. They both compliment each other pretty frequently even if they usually pepper in barbs as they do.

Floyd and Riddle are also pretty similar people, too:

At any rate, that's a lot of screenshots to basically say, yes they do make fun of each other and tease each other, but when they do get onto the same page, they work very well together and seem to have a mutual respect for each other even if they criticize each other. They can identify the aspects in each other that they can't identify in themselves and it makes their chemistry interesting because every time they share screentime it seems like they learn from each other.

Anyway, Florid fans eat well literally any time these two share screen time.

And then Jade and Azul... honestly those two cracked me up the entire time.

First you have Jade's dream with his god awful imagination. Jade literally gets the knockoff versions of Azul and Floyd as I said in the first post about it, but I think it's interesting to see how he perceives both of them. I'll be including images this time.

I'll start with Floyd because HOO buddy if I was Floyd and had to endure this shit.

This is an actual crime.

That being said, Floyd is noticeably more childish in Jade's dream than the actual Floyd is in reality, both in his rather immature visage as well as a more child-like way of speaking.

It's worth noting, in Floyd's dream, Floyd doesn't really pay much attention to where Jade is, and he doesn't really pay any attention to where Azul is either. He says "Eh, Jade's probably with Azul on land because the Mostro Lounge was succeeding." Floyd also makes a point of saying that it's a rule between the three of them - they don't have to stick together - if they don't want to do something, then they won't stick together and whoever wants to do it can do it on their own, or if they don't want to involve someone in something, they don't involve them in it. (Ironically, I would argue that this is one of the healthier dynamics for friendship in TWST that we see. All three of them have discussed and come to understand that if they need to separate ways, they will, they don't want to hold each other back from the things they enjoy.)

Jade on the other hand, and whether Floyd likes it or not, seems to view Floyd as a younger brother. We don't get confirmation as to whether or not Jade hatched first or if Floyd hatched first, but regardless of whichever it is, it seems like Jade views Floyd as his younger brother, and seems to have an instinct to coddle him, even if this portrayal of Floyd is deeply unflattering to Floyd and starts a whole fight.

It's also of note: Floyd didn't expect to be in Jade's dream at all. Floyd talks about how he figures that Jade has just dreamed about him in a similar way that Floyd had dreamed of Jade - off doing whatever he wanted to do. That's not true - Floyd is there, with Jade, and engaging in Jade's interests.

In Jade's official EN school uniform home tap he says:

Though some translations tend to interpret this line differently, and essentially instead say that Floyd is clingier than he seems.

The reason I'm pointing this out is because Jade is the only one of the three who's primary dream features all three of them together. This would seem to point toward Jade actually being the one who's clingier, and to being the one who's most attached to both of them. I can't really say for certain, but I almost wonder if Jade has a bit of a fear of abandonment with regard to Azul and Floyd and that's why his ideal dream world is one where they're both so reliant on him.

And then Azul...

Is Giorno Giovanna in the room with us?

Seriously though, I think it's kind of interesting to see how Azul is portrayed in Jade's imagination.

For reference, here's what Azul actually looks like in his mer form in the same pose.

The thing I immediately noticed is Azul's eyes. Sure, the image Jade has of Azul is a JJBA joke, but there's something else I want to point out about them in particular.

Azul's eyes are an entirely different, brighter color. In fact, it's also a different color from Azul's overblot eye color as well.

We know that Jade's limited imagination means he's working on his own impressions of Floyd and Azul and you're telling me that Jade's impression of Azul is that he looks like a character from a manga known for being about handsome, fabulous men and that he has ginormous, bright, shiny blue eyes that look like sapphires? Hello?????? Jade???

I think this is fascinating because had they just drawn Azul as like a normal old JJBA reference but kept his color palette the same, I could see it just being explained as "oh, neat, Jade thinks Azul is handsome when Azul doesn't" but follow me with this: Jade's imagination is painting them in broad strokes the way that Epel's imagination was doing in his dream. These are Jade's impressions of Floyd and Azul.

Floyd tracks - he sees Floyd as a younger brother and someone he inherently wants to take care of, even if it's not realistic. Floyd is a childish younger brother in a cartoonish way. Azul is motivated by money in a cartoonish way. These are the traits that stick out the most about the both of them to Jade.

So when Jade imagines Azul physically what he sees is Azul being handsome AND that he has these shiny bright blue eyes even if his memory gets the shade of blue wrong. Jade....... honey................ I need you to sit down when I tell you this..........

And then after he and Floyd fight, because Jade is too stubborn to wake up because he can't grasp that what he's seeing is wrong, the thing that finally triggers him to realize something is off is this version of dream Azul checking on him after the fight and being relieved he's okay and then saying that he's afraid he would have lost his "かわいい部下".

The thing that triggers Jade to start waking up is Azul calling Jade his cute subordinate (essentially his cute assistant). I am not exaggerating this. That is literally the phrase that triggers Jade. Jade even repeats it.

AND HE FUCKING PANICS

JADE. I AM BEGGING THE SECONDHAND CRINGE THIS MADE ME FEEL.

From there the dream Floyd of course says he's going to cry if Jade left him and like that just seals the deal. And everyone is super impressed because Jade realized it was wrong by himself and woke himself up.

I don't tend to insert my opinions much in my post but there is not a single person on this planet that is not going to make me believe that Jade did not just gay panic himself awake. I feel like most queer people have experienced something just like this. Jade literally wakes himself up because he's like "no, wait, hold on, Azul wouldn't say that, right?" and then Floyd saying he's going to cry sells it. Dream Azul essentially just fucking "baby girl"ed him and Jade was like "no, actually, that's too cringe for me to even dream about".

Then you have Azul's dream. Honestly there aren't a lot of crumbs there for Jade, but I think it's sort of sweet how even if they're sort of forced to, Jade and Floyd don't want to force Azul to do anything. They have a lot of respect for each other's personal boundaries, and they were fully prepared to let Azul stay asleep and allow him to work it out himself if he wanted to wake up. It doesn't end up working out that way, but it's not hard to tell that both the twins and Azul had respect for each other as individuals.

Another neat thing is that Azul is one of the few people who's dreams aren't inherently things he really wants. They're more of "what-if" scenarios. What if Azul was good at sports and ended up being a high school athlete? What if Azul actually got to follow through on burning that picture of his younger self and then opened a Mostro Lounge branch? I think it's interesting that Azul seems to be kept in these dreams because his imagination is vivid, and not because they're an ideal world perse. In a sense they are - but Azul himself admits that he doesn't really want either of them.

Azul gets so much growth shown in this chapter. He ends up wanting to wake up because he wants to live for himself, and not live for what other people think of him or having to rely on them. Azul still wants to succeed, but he wants to succeed for himself and not because he feels a need to one up the people that bullied him, and he wants to be fulfilled in himself. He's actually working on his mental health, I love that for him.

And, one more thing of note, I think it's so fucking cool that at the end of the book, Azul doesn't freak out about other people seeing him in his true form. In fact, he doesn't freak out about seeing himself in his true form when Idia makes a proxy version of him - he's just thinking about how cool it would be to have a second version of himself. I feel like most people have gotten the sense that Azul has a sense of self-loathing regarding his mer-form, but it seems like if he did at some point, he's made peace with it.

Anyway that's an unnecessarily long infodump about my feelings about the character relationships that we've got in the new update. Like obnoxiously long. So, uh... I'll just end the post with Azul's smiling sprite because I just think it's fucking adorable.

#answered;;#Anonymous #florid #jeiazu #twst #twisted wonderland #spoilers #twst spoilers #character analysis;;#Octavinelle is the dormitory where all of the queer folk go #I mean all of the dorms are but these three have a certain je ne sais quoi #In basically every test I've ever taken that sorts you into a dorm I've also ended up in Octavinelle so.... that tracks #welcome to Octavinelle we had good food and gay fish #twst shipping;;

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angstywaifu · 25 days ago

Text

Black Dahlia - 27. Outsmarted

Summary: Dahlia and Han are on the way to secure the win for their squad, when Dahlia gets the feeling they are no longer alone, and that the note they were left might not have been entirely true.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me

So far everything was going smoothly. Almost too smoothly. As far as I knew, not a single member from Second Squad had followed us. Surely they were told of our objective once the horn sounded. There’s no way they didn’t. We’d been told to deliver it without being captured. They had to have known. Within a few minutes we would be at our delivery point. Hell I could see the top of the tower peeking through the trees.

As useful as Kai’s signet was, I really wished I’d found someone with a sensory signet, or something I could scan my surroundings with. I was going to have to read up on everyone’s signets when I got back to Basgiath. It would really come in handy for situations like this. But that also meant getting close to them. And seeing as no one in our Squad had a signet like that, my chances of making that work before a Squad related battle were slim.

But even without a signet like that, I know I am not alone out here. There was someone else out here with Han and I. Han who was taking care to walk as close to me as he could, placing his steps just where mine had been. But even with him so close I don’t want to risk talking to him. I could try mask it, but if someone was watching us they would probably see my mouth move. And I honestly wasn’t sure of my capability to mask his footsteps and us talking. I just hoped he was also having the same feeling I was.

We finally break through the trees, the tower in sight. Up close and on foot it looks a lot bigger than it did last night on the dragon when Xaden, Bodhi and I had flown around to get a lay of the land. That was going to be a bitch to run up while also masking our foot steps. There had to be a catch to this. There’s no way no one followed us. And from what I knew, none of Garrick’s squad had any signets they could use to mask themselves. Someone was here and ready to pounce. But who.

Movement at the top of the tower catches my eyes. My eyes going wide at who I see up there. Even from down here there is no denying who that is. Tawny skin, the blackest hair I’ve ever seen, and with no flight jacket on it’s easy to see the large relic that wraps around his arm. Xaden. So leadership weren’t really gone. They’d been here, watching us this entire time. I whip around, scanning the trees around me as I back up. Meaning there was only one person who could be out here with me.

That’s why no one had followed us from outpost. They might have lost their dragons, but they hadn’t lost their leadership. Explaining why I’d only felt like I was being watched at the very end. A large crack sounds to my left, a large foot stepping on a branch that snaps easily under the weight of the person atop it. As if on a casual stroll, Garrick steps out from the trees looking like death itself. I’d only seen him fully geared up a few times, but it never failed to make me a little uneasy as well as some other feelings I didn’t want to admit. Garrick was already a weapon without his swords. But seeing him there, looming in the shadows, hulking frame with two large swords strapped to his back and god knows how many daggers strapped to his sides under his flight jacket.

I feel Han tap the side of my leg, a morse code we’d established before leaving. I tap back on his hand twice. Telling him not to run just yet. If this was to work, Garrick needed to be closer and to catch me. I wanted the satisfaction of him thinking he’d won before I ripped it out from under him. I shove the decoy flag into the pocket on the inside of my jacket, turning towards the tower as I purposefully run at a slower rate than normal. I knew I was faster than Garrick, and due to the distance between us, I needed him to catch up just a little bit before I get to the tower. I hear him take off after me, his loud steps thundering behind me. I reach the bottom of the tower, pretending to slip on the wet ground from the rain last night. I curse as my knees slam into the ground harder than I expect. That was going to leave a mark. Fantastic.

”Might need to practice your foot work little Aetos.” He calls out, far closer than I wanted him at this point.

I growl out in frustration as I push of the ground and start up the stairs. Here Garrick would have the advantage. His legs were far longer than mine, he’d be able to take multiple steps at a time compared to me. And as I glance over my shoulder I see him gaining on me easily. He’s way more of out breath than me, but I know that won’t slow him down. He’s clearly not picked up on Han who he would have passed on his way in. Good. We still had the upper hand as long as Han was able to slip past Garrick once I let him catch me.

We pass what I assume to be the half way point, my knees starting to scream at me stop. So much for a graceful and planned fall. I was definitely seeing the healers when we got back. Finally Garrick catches up, his hand grasping my jacket as he pulls me back to him, pinning me between him and the wall. The air between us feels impossibly small, charged with something I can’t name. Garrick is close, too close. And his scent surrounds me, warm and intoxicating. It’s a mix of leather and smoky, grounded by the woodsy spice of cedar and sandalwood. A crisp breath of cool wind clings to him, like freedom and danger wrapped together.

”Didn’t think you’d get away from me that easily did you?” He mocks as he looms over me, his hands gripping my wrists tightly as he holds them to my sides.

I smirk up at him. “It took you a bit to catch up. Might need to work on your cardio.”

”I get plenty of cardio in thank you. Unless you’re offering to help out.” My now settling heartrate picking up as he takes a step in, making the already small space feel smaller.

”Your mares not doing a good enough job anymore?” I tease back, inwardly cringing knowing Han is hearing and seeing all of this. I just pray he think’s its to lure Garrick’s attention.

He chuckles at me, his hands loosening on my wrists just enough for his hand to graze mine. I feel the shift in signets due to my focus being elsewhere. Id started being able to shield against taking others signets. Some signets were easier than others. I just pray Han had gotten far enough away to not be heard now that I can’t muffle his movement. I didn’t like the feeling of Garrick’s signet washing over me. It felt unpleasant, uncomfortable. Maybe because it reminded me of that day, the screams echoing in the back of my mind.

”Maybe I don’t have any left now.” His tone shifting to slightly more serious.

”I’ll believe it when I see it.” I tell him as I cock my head to the side.

I know Austin had commented on it, but had he really changed? Part of me wants to believe he has. It would be nice for someone to do something for me. To pick me for once. But I barely knew Garrick and he barely knew me. Though with some of the things he’d done around me, I somehow felt like he know more about me than I’d let him know.

”Then just open your eyes and see for yourself then. The evidence is all there. Maybe you should come and see for yourself tonight. Celebrate my squad winning the squad battle.” His lips quirking up at the end.

By now Han would have easily made the top, there was easily enough of a gap for him to slip by when Garrick pushed me against the wall. Any second now that bell would ring out signalling our win.

”Rich words coming from someone who just lost.” I mock as I reach into my flight jacket.

As I grasp onto the material of the tent the bell above us sounds, Garrick walking up a few steps as he looks towards the top of the tower where Xaden rings the bell. Garrick turns his attention back to me and the piece of the tent I hold in my hands, his eyes going wide when he realises what I hold is not the white flag he’s meant to stop me from delivering.

”How?” He asks in disbelief.

I smile as I walk up a few steps, stopping on the step in front of him before turning towards him. “Maybe you should brush up on your knowledge of the signets in the Quadrant. Never know when it could come in handy.” Garrick purses his lips at me, clearly annoyed I’d out smarted him. Yet again I had proven him wrong, and just like the first time it felt just as satisfying. “Hey, maybe you can get one of your mares to come celebrate with you. They might settle for a second place.”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the fourth wing #garrick tavis #the empyrean #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #garrick tavis x oc #dahlia aetos #garrick tavis x dahlia aetos #black dahlia #dain aetos #xaden riorson

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inbabylontheywept · 6 months ago

Note

Hey, so for context it's 3:45 AM where I am, and I'm stark awake at this hour because I had to take a nap yesterday due to eating a meal I really shouldn't have that is still wreacking havoc on my intestines. I'm definitely going to regret sending this ask HARD once the sun comes up, but I've been doing a lot of unadvisable shit on the internet over the past 3 days so why not add this to the pile.

I'm kind of having a weird emotional thing right now over your last post because it's just too ridiculous to be true, and I'm realizing the majority of your blog is probably all creative writing not intended to be taken seriously, but I've believed everything you've claimed to be a true story up until this point? And now I'm faced with either being a gullible fool, or an asshole for saying this if it IS all true, and I have to ask or I'll never know? I shouldn't be letting this get to me but it is.

So please, I ask sincerely and with no intention of being a jackass, are your life stories actually all true, or are they supposed to come across as obviously exaggerated or wholly fictional? I'm sure I could piece it together if I lay in bed and thought about it for an hour or two, but I think I'll just take the L and ask outright because fuck it.

But THEN if it truly is just a creative writing blog, would you keep the bit going and claim it's all real when it's not? Like, do you see why I'm going crazy? I am a very gullible, easily lied to person and that has lead me to be on high alert, but I almost always jump at the wrong things and come across as a distrustful asshole, so?? Will you assume this ask itself is LARP because of all the specific details I tacked on, which are intended to garner a sense of sincerity? I'm realizing I may have been playing checkers with someone playing chess all this time and I'm wigging out man

So, I'll start with the small stuff first:

The camp was in Prescott, AZ, in the mountains, over labor day weekend which is in late fall. I don't know the actual temperatures as numbers, but the people at the camp spent more time being cold than hot. The camp organizers also did bring a ludicrous amount of the pink sauce. I don't think the campsite itself was ever intended to provide potable water, just utility water for the showers and dishes and other non-for-direct-consumption tasks. So in that area, the camp people overprepared because Arizonans don't fuck around with dehydration.

I'm also pretty sure they had some water available, they were just very careful with it. I think there were a few diabetic kids, and they were making sure they wouldn't have to subsist on the weird gatorade like everyone else. Maybe. I don't honestly know.

But that's one story, and the thing that you're really asking is, are all these stories fake? Is it all just creative writing? And the answer to that is a soft no.

As a writer, I'm pretty strongly influenced by Patrick McManus. A lot of my stories are told in the American Tall Tale style - which is exaggerated, and dramaticized, but tells a story that is true nonetheless. I am going to keep the specifics of the exaggeration and dramatization between myself and God, but I would look at my stories and say that they're each more than 80% true. I hope that relieves some of your stress.

I wouldn't call what I do creative writing exercises. But I also wouldn't encourage you to take them 100% seriously. Both because I talk a big game, and because they are, at the end of the day, just funny stories. I certainly wouldn't want you to lose any more sleep over them.

You aren't a jackass for expressing incredulity. It's part of my style, and I welcome it. I also wouldn't call you a gullible fool for believing things in the past. We're good, you and I, and I've enjoyed having you as a reader. I hope you keep reading. Just, maybe not at 3:45 AM. Take care of yourself, Babylon

#Babylon-Lore #Babylon-TopPick

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deadghosy · 5 months ago

Note

| “Can anyone give me any “Slytherin boys react to” ideas. I’m kinda running out lol. It can be a texting scenario or just a scenario that i may be able to do.” |

Maybe them with a prophet/oracle reader?

SLYTHERIN BOYS WITH A PROPHET ! READER

Ft. The riddle, Theodore nott, Lorenzo Berkshire

A/N: I looked up the word cause I don’t know what it meant. And I kinda feel like this is it? So sorry if this isn’t what you think it is. Hopefully you like this anon!!💕

TOM RIDDLE

Honestly hates you. At first of course

Sometimes he would glance at you, seeing you do a prayer and immediately doing something else

He’s giving you side eyes as he wants you to pray to him like that one day.

He would probably ask you what are you doing and you’re like

“I’m seeing into my own future!” Immediately his face is scrunched up and he’s leaving the room

MATTHE RIDDLE

He’s asking you for his future, he’s scared and nervous asf

But when you told him he will live a wonderful life with someone, he thinks and knows it’s you

Prompting him to always be beside you and making you laugh

Honestly he finds having you by him like a fresh of air

THEODORE NOTT

Always likes how you read him like a book just like how you read the future

He find you badass in your own way

Cause you could lie to someone about their future and they’ll believe it!

Easy like that, but also he brags how he pulled you. When really you pulled him

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Will kinda use you so you can help him see what would be on the menu in the great hall.

You could try to tell him that it doesn’t work like that. Try.

But either way, he finds your ability cool at how you can see the future

He loves how you use future pickup lines

It’s cheesy. And it warms up his heart in a silly way

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winterarmyy · 2 years ago

Text

Behind The Facades | Part I

An unrequited pining over a certain super soldier.

Summary: In which Y/N is pining over Bucky while she watch him wrap his arms around someone else.

Navigation: Part I || Part II || Part III (end)

Words: 1.2k++

Pairings: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: angst. just pure angst and pain.

P/S: i'm feeling melancholy all of the sudden, therefore this idea was born. It's a very short one but I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

"Never let your true feelings show." was one and if not the most important lesson Y/N learned from where she was trained before becoming an agent under the avengers program.

It was so deeply etched within her very being, that the habit had became as natural as breathing the air into her lungs.

"Keep that mask on, and no one will be able ever break you." They said.

So, she did exactly that.

She giggled when Bucky told her about how he managed to make a fool of himself when he attempted to flirt a girl that he had fallen for at that bar he regularly went to.

He really shouldn't read those random top 10 pickuplines articles on Google anymore.

Tears were threaten to fall, as her shoulders shook in silent laughter, "Really, Barnes? I thought you were the ladies man back in the 40's"

"Exactly. 'Were' . Now, I am clearly not. Urghh, I can't believe I let that birdbrain convince me that these 'pickuplines' would do the trick."

Despite his gruff annoyance towards Sam, she could see a tinge of red shade on Bucky's cheek; probably feel embarrassed from what happened.

Gulping down whatever drink he had in his glass Bucky huffed, "Honestly, I don't think any sane person would even consider to approach me, let alone date me." His sharp gaze wavered into something more vulnerable.

Though he didn't mention anything about his history but when he shifted his view to the metal of his left hand, Y/N knew what he meant.

Y/N gaze softens, "I'm here with you. Am I not?" Her nails dug into the skin of her thighs as she held back from wanting to touch him, kiss him, hold him; to whisper sweet nothings in his ears in hopes that it would shut whatever doubts he has of himself even for just a moment.

There was a swift glaze over Bucky's eyes. As if he realized something but his words seems to deny his revelation, "I said 'sane person', Y/N."

Y/N gasped with an exaggerated perplex on her expression, "Sargent James Buchanan Barnes..." she purposely called him by his title, hoping it will remind him that he should have the reputation of a respectful man, "... are you accusing me of losing my sanity?"

Bucky shrugs with a face of pure innocence, "In this tower? We all are. But, especially you." a playful smirk tugged the corner of his lips as he waited to witness her reaction.

She stifled a laugh when she heard a knock on her door and then greeted by what looked like a mountain flower, and in between them was Bucky.

He had impulsively bought almost half a dozen bouquet of flowers because he couldn't decided which one of them is pretty enough for his date.

He shyly laughed it off when she told him "You could've face-timed me at the shop instead of ended up buying this much of flowers, Buck."

"God, you're right, doll. Why didn't I thought of that?" He frowned as he sighed.

"Because you're old and forgetful, that's why." Y/N teased as she leaned to the door frame, arms folded across her chest.

Bucky rolled his eyes before sending a glare towards her, "You're not going to stop mentioning my age in everything, are you?" he grumbled.

He might not know it but Y/N managed to noticed a tiny pout on his lips; something only, as they said, Steve can notice. That slight difference on his lowers lips; a very minimal protrude, barely noticable.

But secretly, she can see it too. And it was something she wished she could brag about, something she could tell the world; how lucky she was to be able to notice those little things about him.

She chuckled with an answer, "Never."

Another grumble escaped from Bucky somewhere behind the bouquets, before he presented a particular set towards Y/N, "Anyway, this is for you." He acts reluctant but she knew he was always sincere with actions.

Her eyes skimmed through the gorgeous arrangement of daisies; her favourite.

For a mere second, she let her heart flutter and a genuine smile bloomed on her lips; however the truth was not supposed to surface.

If Bucky was not blinded by the bouquet, he would've seen how the joyous glint her eyes faded even if her smile was still intact.

"Bribery is an act against the law, you do know that right, Sargent?" Nevertheless, her hands reached out to take the gift.

Bucky chuckled in response, "Yes, ma'am. I do."

She smiled when Bucky's love-struck gaze shines when he told her about his first kiss with that lucky lady, during one of those midnight coffee trips she share with him at the pantry.

He should've seen how beautiful he looked that night; free of worries and caught in pure joy.

"It was..." Bucky sighed in content; he was so happy he lost his words. As he tried to find the right description of the kiss, she could see his gaze softens.

Y/N knew he was recalling the kiss, but she couldn't help but to fall for him all over again; not that it's not a recurring event everyday but she really did felt as if her heart stopped for more than necessary.

'He's so happy.' She thought to herself. 'Then, I should be happy for him too'

So she did exactly how it supposed to be done.

"Mirror their feelings; that way your true feelings will never show."

Y/N did exactly that.

That one habit that had lead Y/N to countless of undercover missions.

The same missions that left Y/N with one of the highest rate of successful inflitration, unharmed.

And yet, the facade she wore seemed to failed her this time.

Why didn't work?

Why does it hurts?

The longer she kept the mask on, the more it burns from within.

"Keep that mask on, and no one will be able ever break you."

Then, why does her heart aches as if it was falling apart?

Y/N could feel how weak her knees were becoming, she had to lean on counter tops for support. The slow ballad filling the living room, leaking to the pantry from where she stood and watched.

Oh, she loved this song.

She wrapped her shivering hands around the warm cup of coffee that she made as she watched the couple danced. And the longer her longing gaze linger on Bucky, the blurrier her vision get.

"Y/N..." Natasha softly grazed the side of Y/N's arm. How could she not notice Natasha coming in. Must have been her widow effect.

"You're breaking, honey." Natasha was meaning to imply about Y/N's heart but she was so set on hiding her feelings she thought Natasha meant differently, "I know." She replied as she sipped on the warm drink.

Her facades are breaking.

Her hazy vision remained on the, now shadows of the dancing couple, "I will put up a new one." She didn't even notice how her own voice cracked.

Tears overflowed from the corner of her eyes, "Just let this one crumble." Her lips trembled as she told the truth, "Cause I don't think I can fix this."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I'm thinking to have more of this couple; should i do it? Any thoughts?

#winterarmyyfics #behind the facades au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #avenger!bucky #bucky angst

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these-posts-arent-real · 9 months ago

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warrior cats dash sim anyone?

#no canon characters #sorray guys thats too much #im just gonna do some made up dudes

0 notes

🔲 yourfave-tunnel-guy-deactivat

Guys I hate tunnellers. Lmao.

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

By StarClan, I hate this mindset. Tunnellers are such an underappreciated part of WindClan society. Just because we don't do as much running or typical hunting doesn't make us less valuable than you. Op and cats like him are so stupid.

🌻 l1llyst3m Follow

Crow-food-worth reading comprehension lmao. It was satire (the url clearly states "tunnel.") Also, her*

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

Ok I see where that was probably satire (OP should have made that more clear though) Where are you getting "her" from though lmao. OP's url is "yourfave-tunnel-guy"

🌻 l1llyst3m Follow

I'm getting "her" because I'm OP. This is my new account. I'm trans. Hope this helps.

#i said so in the tags of the last addition #but as i said. crow-food-worth reading comprehension #prev probably didnt even read my tags lmao

2,209 notes

🌾 barncat-vibes Follow

I am goingto fucking kill Jadestar. Lmao.

🌾 barncat-vibes Follow

WRONG BLOG

🐱 berrrrry-o Follow

Clanblr user barncat-vibes is from rc confirmed??

🏞 trouttail-prefers-bass Follow

Haha I already knew that, I'm mutuals with them on their main, plus we're IRL friends. Forgot that wasn't common knowledge.

🐱 berrrrry-o Follow

tbh I always assumed they were wc since thats the clan closest 2 the barns...

🪵 i-eat-moss Follow

Uh sorry ar ewe just glossing over how @barncat-vibes and @trouttail-prefers-bass are IRLS???!!!!?

#mutuals i can understand since they have the same ideas on like #social justice stuff... they both post trans stuff sometimes #but #IRLS? #SOMEONE is fucking with me #i met trouttail once at a gathering #nice dude #suuuper weird to imagine him knowing barncat-vibes

27 notes

🌅 kit-names-inspo Follow

I've decided to make a full post on this, since I've noticed this issue a lot lately. So let me make this clear:

I am NOT comfortable with "transgender" cats using my name suggestions to pick out new names. The service I provide is to help queens who have or are having kits, not confused males who think they're mollies.

STOP using my blog for your delusions.

🌅 kit-names-inspo Follow

Go ahead and unfollow me. I didn't want you 200 transgenders on my blog anyway.

🛤 carnation-stem-02 Follow

Anyone else find it funny how after this post OP lost 200+ followers? Anyone?

Anyway for a better source of names for trans mollies, toms & enbies, @name-lists-by-theme has much better names, sorted much more cleanly, AND she's not a transphobe.

#trans #fuck transphobia #fuck transphobes #fuck terfs #<- kit-names-inspo is a self-proclaimed radfem&terf btw

17,092 notes

🔁 🐍xviper-the-fagx reblogged

🤍 snwtl Follow

I can't believe we're being told to "normalize" cats becoming kittypets now. Do you have any idea how many cats would just abandon their families if it became socially acceptable to run off and live with the twolegs???

🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow

Honestly (as someone who left the Clans because I had a mate in the twolegplace), I haven't seen this to be as true as you're saying. I've seen one cat who "abandoned" his family to become a kittypet, if you count his abusive ex-partner, but for the most part, the cats we leave behind are understanding and okay with the fact that we have to move on. I wasn't meant for warrior life, and I left it, and I'm happier for it.

🤍 snwtl Follow

The fact that you would even imply it's okay to abandon your family for a life as a kittypet only serves to prove my point. You make me sick.

🪺 robbbinpaw Follow

Crow-food-worth reading comprehension

#yeah #snwtl (snowtail i think?) needs to use their eyes lmao #starclan this place gets on my last nerve #thinking of taking a break from clanblr because of shit like this

847 notes

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

Uhh... where am I. My dash looks weird...

#fakeposting #fake dash #dashboard simulator #dash simulator #warrior cats #warrior cats dashboard #cat dashboard simulator #fake dashboard #unreality #clanblr #transphobia

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iznyangwoni · 6 months ago

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EASY TO LOVE |chapter sixteen !

“You come with me.” Jungwon pulls your shirt lightly to catch your attention. You were about to get in the car with Wonyoung and Moka, so you turn around confused to look at the guy.

His brows are furrowed again, and his jaw is clenched. You decide to not comment on that, and instead you sign at Jay to switch places with you. Jungwon is basically dragging you into his car. “Jungwon.” He doesn’t answer, he opens the door for you and then just gets in the car.

Everyone else has already left, meanwhile Jungwon seems to be distracted, and really, really pissed. It’s annoying you. It really is, but you don’t want to stay in a car with him for two hours in a bad mood, so you put your hand over his before he can start the car. “Is everything okay?” “I don’t know, you tell me.”

He says, before brushing your hand off and starting the car. You look at him as if he’s crazy, because he’s honestly acting like it, you turn around to face the window, your arms crossed. The first thirty minutes of the ride are so silent its killing you, especially since only a few hours ago you both were in your room doing all kinds of things. What the hell could’ve gone wrong in so little time?

“You know, usually normal people have a conversation about what went wrong.” Jungwon lets out a sarcastic laugh, and you know for a fact that its not an amused one. “Well maybe you should figure it out yourself since you like acting like a damn smartass.” If his words weren’t pissing you off so much, you would’ve appreciated his appearance this morning way more.

He’s wearing a white sleeveless top, his arms flexing while he drives are about to drive you crazy. but this is not the right time. Still, you try again to be gentle, thinking that maybe it would help him calm down too. “I told you i dont like fighting with you, Wonie..” “Y/n right now its not the time to talk to me like that.”

You didn’t really notice at first, but he’s going really fucking fast. “Tell me what’s it about then? I cant read your mind.” You’re trying to act calm, but its so hard with him acting like this, speeding through the street and not giving you any reasons for your attitude. “Did you fucking got Minji expelled?” You keep silent.

Oh. So this is what is about. Jungwon takes a look at you when you dont answer, he already knows its the truth. You did it and he couldn’t understand why you did that over just a picture of the two of you kissing. “Y/n!” He almost shouts your name and you close your eyes for a second, he hits the steering wheel while also going faster.

“Slow down!” You shout back, you look at the mirrors, the street is completely empty, but that doesn’t make it any better. You put your hand on the handbrake, not wanting to pull it, but at least he would get the memo that way. “Jungwon slow the fuck down.” He doesnt think twice before taking your hand and putting it on your thigh. “Don’t you dare.”

“Slow down, you’re scaring me.” Jay had told you how fast of a driver Jungwon is, but this still doesnt seem normal. The guy sighs, his hand still on yours as he slows just a bit down, if he kept going that fast you would’ve probably threw up somewhere. “We shouldn’t talk about these things when you’re driving.”

“Oh sure now you’re the one who doesn’t want to talk.” “Jungwon-“ “Did you do it, yes or no?” You keep silent once again. The answer is obvious but you still cant bring yourself to tell him the true reason for that. You don’t want to tell him how scared you are about that video being leaked, you don’t want things to go back how they were last year.

“Jungwon you wouldn’t understand..” You feel your voice breaking, you know he’s never going to talk to you ever again after this. “Yeah i honestly don’t understand ruining someone’s life for so little so maybe you’re right.” “It’s not something so little.” Jungwon parks on your driveway, neither your mother or brother are home at the moment, but you dont want him to get inside the house right now.

“What it is then? Y/n i tried to act like i dont care, i really did, but this is getting bigger than i thought and i need to know now.” You shake your head to say no, your throat is already hurting, you dont want to cry. He’s going to hate you either way, so might as well go all out. “I can’t tell you. Just accept it.”

“Y/n you just ruined Minji’s life, how can i accept it?” You can see the disappointment written on his face, and that honestly breaks your heart even more, so you break eye contact, your eyes on your hands, playing with the keys of your house. “And who the hell are Ricky and Jiyoon?” You panic as you hear those names, where the hell did he get those?

“How much more do you know?” “That is not the point.” “Just tell me!” Jungwon stays silent when you snap at him like that. He can see your hands shaking, but he doesn’t say anything about it, his voice comes out much colder when he speaks next. “Only that you got them expelled too.”

You nod, it’s still much more than what you’d want him to know, but at least he isnt aware of what actually happened. “Y/n just how much more are you hiding? I care about you, and if the fact that something happened to you is true, then i need to know what it is. But by the only pieces of information i have, you look like the villain here.”

You chuckle sarcastically, of course you’re the villain in this story too. So why would you tell him the truth? He’d probably find a way to blame it on you just how many others did. You shake your head again, taking off your seatbelt and opening the door. “Y/n.”

“I told you you were getting too attached, Jungwon. I am not a good person, i do shitty stuff and dont get consequences because of my surname. I’m a spoiled, evil, mean little girl who has never had a bad day. And everything else that people told you about me. I’m sorry you believed that i wasn’t.” and with that you get out of the car, slamming the door loudly before getting in your house.

prev | masterlist | next

TAGLIST @unhakki @firstclassjaylee @en-verse @mxxninthesky @onlyhyunjin @heeseungmyman @jiamini @yoonzns @wonswondrland @50-husbands @leaderwonim @aloloveswonie @f3rraribabez @jwonistic @ribbioniki @kyanmeai @ilovejungwonandhaechan @nat123c @yjwsgf @gyuvision @realrintaro @glxzillx @qettalos @rairaiblog @sakanelli-afc @nodiotter @haohaoshoe @vixensss @terryfiedgyu

#enha imagines #enha scenarios #enha #enha fluff #enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen smau #jungwon #jungwon smau #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #jungwon x you #jungwon imagines #jungwon x reader #jungwon smut #jungwon scenarios #yang jungwon

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foreverisntenough · 7 months ago

Note

Y/N is so fiercely protective of Trent and I just know that when he comes back from matches where he either didn’t play or someone fouled him etc she’d go off on a tangent and Trent would be like trying to stop her. She’d be like “I can’t believe he didn’t get a foul or a yellow card and like everyone saw it and the ref did nothing the stupid ref and he’s so lucky I wasn’t there and-“ and Trent would be like “babe, breathe”.

Sorry got carried away, I just love your series so much 😭😅

I love this! This made me laugh. I feel like that’s their vibe as well. Y/N being in a panic and Trent being like ‘baby chill out.’

TYSM for sending!

--------- My tiny one shot below for you 🤍

‘Mighty Red’ - 1.2k words

↳ Y/N is fuming after the Liverpool Man City fixture but Trent doesn’t seem too pressed. *If your a city fan- probably don’t read lol

Other ForeverIsntEnough One Shots

---------

“Honestly though it just pisses me off because they get away with everything. That’s a fucking foul every time. Like I don’t understand what are we using VAR for at this point because it doesn’t seem to matter. It’s a card! He had you by the neck of your shirt. I would’ve hit him if I was you. What a fucking prick. I wanted to run down there and kick him in the balls like get the fuck off my man.” You rattled on in Trent’s car as he drove you home after a game at Anfield. The Liverpool City match had ended with a tie as its result and you were less than impressed.

“Wow tell me how you really feel.” Trent laughed a little as he flicked his eyes to the side towards you momentary as he drove on the M62. The lights from the motorway filled the car and splashed across your face. He couldn’t help but think you looked beautiful in your rage.

“I should’ve gone down to the pitch to yell at the ref frankly like he’s so stupid. Why are they all so dumb? It doesn’t bother you? Like this is fucking crazy. They are cheating, T. Blatantly cheating.” You yelped out continuing on with your rant. You were fuming after the matches result. There had been a incorrect (in your opinion) call from the referee that even went to VAR to be reviewed. A City player had dragged Trent down onto the pitch by the collar of his jersey after a trip and you thought it was insane the player got away unscathed, not even a card.

“I don’t know, baby. I mean what am I meant to do? I can do my 90 plus on the pitch but that’s the only difference I can really make. Only chance for impact.” Trent responded in a calm voice but with a smug smirk thinking your passion and fury at the moment was pretty funny and definitely cute.

“Well that’s shitty.” You huffed in response. You pulled your legs up onto your seat to sit in a ball, folding your arms around your knees and pulling them into you.

“Well that’s the way it is beautiful.” Trent told you and tapped at your knee telling you the get your feet, still in trainers off his car seat. He hated when anyone got his car remotely dirty and you were not exempt. No rage was going to be enough to allow that.

“I fucking hate them. Everything about that stupid club. You know what else is ridiculous? The dumb mascot, what even is that? Like what an absolute joke of a club.” Your brow furrowed as you dropped your legs back down but shuffled to turn to look at him driving, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Baby, I don’t even know what it is? Why do you even know?” He started to laugh at how ridiculous of a point you were making. You pulled your bent knee onto the seat to get comfortable again and as much as you tried to hold your expression of anger you couldn’t.

“Stop!” You began to giggle as well. “I don’t know why! Okay? But it’s fucking dumb. You know what’s not dumb? A bird. You know what is also dumb that stupid ref.” Your rationale for why you disagreed with tonight’s outcome was dismantling slowly but surely as you got closer and closer to your house. Your argument was crumbling referring to mascots, saying that Liverpool’s liver bird was far superior.

“Birds not dumb… noted. Refs… dumb. Duly noted.” Trent kept laughing at you, reaching over once more to pat your knee not with instruction but with confirmation to your words.

“T… you have to be fuming you’ve lost the league to them by a point before like this tie is bull shit.” You pleaded for some sort of emotion from him. You leaned forward resting your elbows on the center console holding your face in your hands looking up at him.

“Thank you for bringing up that very pleasant memory but I told you I can only play the game.” He responded and your lip rolled into a frown.

“You’re being too calm and it’s annoying.” You finally decided maybe you needed to give up because he clearly wasn’t going to get on the same page of vexation as you tonight.

“If I got riled up after each game I’d be exhausted and just upset. It’s a waste of my time, energy, and emotions. You know all this.” He cooed turning toward you a bit and a sympathetic smile. He picked up your chin with a free hand. He rubbed his thumb over your jawline gently waiting at the last stop light on the roads before you reached home.

“Boo! I don’t want to know about your mindful ways. You should be mad with me.” You huffed. You just wanted to vent with him and yell about how much you hated the opposition. You’d done it before but tonight, even in the confines of your car, Trent was choosing professionalism.

“Okay, pretty girl.” He cooed kissing your lips with a quick peck before turning back to focus on the winding roads leading into your neighborhood. You arrived eventually after falling more silent as Trent pulled down your drive. He parked and grabbed his bags ahead of coming around to the passager side. “To be clear baby… I know they are the fucking worst.” He whispered pulling you into a hug at the door of the car before heading in.

“I knew it! I knew you fucking hated them too. Like we should be yelling fuck City!” you eagerly and fairly giddily said to him. You stepped forward into him and he shut the car door behind you. “Fuck them!” You yelped out into the night wrapping your arms around his waist resting your chin on his chest tilting your head upwards childishly to look at him.

“Fuck ‘em!” He yelled louder then you with a smile as he swayed back and forth with you in his arms in the driveway.

“Fuck ‘em.” You echoed him in the same volume before you fell into a giggle.” He looked down at you with a love in his eyes and kissed your lips. “City honestly sucks!” You giggled in between kisses.

“I love you. You’re a very very funny, pretty girl. Thank you for coming tonight. You look beautiful as always.” He cooed softly standing in the quiet drive illuminated by the lights of the house.

“Thank you, T. Wanted to look good for my man that City players need to leave the fuck alone.” You whispered with some cheek in response, ghosting your lips over his.

“You succeeded and you know what? Tie tonight on the pitch… still winning going home with you off it.” He cooed a response that managed to make your heart flutter. “And you’re right, birds… not dumb. Mighty red. Love him.” He began to laugh, turning to walk into the house. You gasped before falling into giggles of your own chasing after him. He was giving you shit for know what the city mascot looked like when he knew the damn name of his.

⇨ Read other ForeverIsntEnough here!

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagines #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n

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shartletswritings · 2 months ago

Text

You've Dug Your Own Grave

CHAPTER 4: Kirranari

TW: Minor violence (honestly nothing compared to arcane) This chapter was so much fun to write omfgggg I hope that you guys enjoy!!! It was NOT beta read, so warning for that. We die like men or somethin like that (i was too impatient and wanted to get this out for you all and I will probably be editing any typos I missed over the next few days) I also had NO intention of making it over 8000 words, but here we are 0.0

You try to not let it get to you. You really, honestly try to not let that brooding, stupid, big eared man get to you. You try to forget that he let you pin him down. That he stared into your eyes for longer than a regular person would. Who cares if he smells like flowers. You certainly don’t, that’s for sure.

If nothing else, it gives you a necessary distraction from the letter left in your apartment. That is a… problem. But what the hell can you do about it? Tell Ekko? From what you’ve seen, the man will probably take you on as his own personal mission; desperate to find a way to free you from your demons. You don’t want that, not even a little bit. What you want is to leave every part of your life behind and start fresh with the Firelights.

Chross found your apartment, he didn’t find you. He’ll have no reason to think you’ve started working with the Firelights, so your safe. Er… mostly safe. As safe as you can be from a man who has a whole goddamn army of soldiers hired for the sole purpose of gathering intel on people. And you’re clearly a bigger target than you thought you were. Maybe it was foolish to think he’d let you leave; Chross isn’t one to let his ‘possessions’ slip from between his shriveled, boney fingers.

You pick yourself up from the floor of the training room. Everything is fine, you tell yourself, desperately clinging to the mantra like a learned monk. Besides, there isn’t anything you can do right now. Except get my mask. Right! Jordyn said they’d be finished today. That’s a perfect distraction from both the Hush Company and your current chirean-shaped problem—you aren’t sure which is more pressing, honestly.

After a quick shower, you dress yourself in your own clothes, finally. You had forgotten how nice it was to wear something that was both clean and your own. Your sweater may be ratty and stained but it’s your sweater dammit and you slip it over your head with a sense of pride. What have I become? Someone who’s proud to wear their own clothes? Jannah help you. You run a comb through your hair and walk back to the courtyard towards Jordyn’s tent.

They smile as they see you approaching, hopping off their workbench with a thump. “I was wondering when you’d be gracing my presence this morning. How did it go at your apartment this morning?” You can tell they’re toeing around the more obvious question: Malia told me you pretty much shut down out of nowhere and said nothing the whole way home.

“It was fine, a bit weird being back for the last time, ya know?” You can not open this can of worms right now.

They eye you from the side as they reach to grab something from the table but don’t question you. “Right. Anyways, I’ve got your mask all ready for you. Let’s see it on.”

They take that widened stance again to get down to your level, gently slipping the mask over your face. You do your best to not dwell on the way their hand grabs your jaw to tilt your head up a few inches.

The mask fits snuggly over your face and you’re pleasantly surprised that you still have a full field of vision. “It feels good, does it look okay?” Your voice comes out distorted and echoed—must be the voice box Jordyn was talking about yesterday.

“Ya look great,” they smirk down at you, standing back up, “here, take a look.” They hold up a small mirror in front of you. The face of a white rat with large, dark eyes gazes back at you, and you… fucking love it. It feels right; all the nights you’ve spent sneaking in and out of small spaces, you find yourself surprised you’ve never thought to identify with the animal before Scar brough it up as an insult.

“Jordyn, this is amazing.” You slip the mask off.

“I didn’t wanna say anything, but in the moment a rat felt like a… er… bad choice. But it suits you, pip squeak.”

You bristle slightly, furrowing your brow at the nickname, “Pip squeak?” You aren’t that much shorter than them.

Jordyn laughs, “Yeah, my sister had a pet rat named Pip Squeak when she was a kid, fits you pretty good if you ask me.”

You cross your arms, letting the mask dangle in your hand, “I guess.” You mumble.

They put a hand on your shoulder, attempting to suppress a chuckle. “It’s affection, newbie, I’m not bein mean, promise.” Their face lights up as though they just remembered something. They mutter over their shoulder at you as they turn back to their workbench and fumble around, “I almost forgot. Lemme get you the clip.”

“Clip?”

“Yeah, for your mask. Gods damn it all, I just saw it.” They fumble for a few more moments before turning back, holding a small silver clip triumphantly in their hands. “Here, I’ll put it on.” You look down at them in abject horror as they kneel in front of you to fit the clip onto the waistband of your cargo pants. “It’s magnetic,” they continue, “If you slide your mask down on it, it’ll stay on till you slide it off. Designed it myself.” They wrap their large hands around your waist to pull themselves back up to standing, only letting go once they take a step back. “There, try it out for me?”

Unable to piece together a properly witty remark, you follow their instructions in silence. Despite your discomfort at their brazen proximity, it is pretty cool; the mask hangs securely off of your pants. You nod approvingly and muster up a smile. “It’s great.” You pause, completely unsure how to end this interaction. You eventually settle for, “Well, I gotta get to dinner.”

While you don’t actively slap your forehead with your hands as you walk away, you come pretty damn close. As if everything that happened today wasn’t enough, now you have Jordyn to deal with. Don’t flatter yourself, you scold, that’s just probably the way they are, right? You add it to the growing list of things you force yourself to not think about and walk into the mess hall.

Apparently, you’re late to dinner; nearly every table is full of Firelights. It is easy to forget just how many people live in this community, and how few of them are soldiers like yourself. A table of children catches your eye and its another good distraction. Ekko’s righteous speeches are beginning to worm their way into your brain, despite your best efforts to prevent it. Everything you will do for the Firelights is ultimately for these children, so they can grow up in a world that isn’t eating itself alive. Two days in and I’m already going soft, you think as you fill a plate up and sit down at a table of fellow soldiers.

You are so lost in your own thoughts when you sit down that you don’t even notice the argument until Scar’s drink is knocked onto the ground. He snarls at a soldier across from you and stands up.

“Scar. Sit back down.” It’s Ekko, the strength in his voice surprises you. It’s easy to forget how much of a leader he is.

To your complete surprise, Scar’s response is even harsher, “Don’t fucking start.” He storms out of the mess hall, leaving your whole table in stunned silence. You’ve seen him upset, sure, but never directed towards Ekko. Whatever happened must have been bad. Was it you? No it couldn’t be…

“What the hell is his problem?” You ask Ekko once the emotional temperature begins to cool.

“I wish I knew. He’s been in a shit mood evening.” He responds, his voice back to its normal cadence.

You chance a look at the man Scar was arguing with. You can’t blame him, you currently wanna yell at the big bat-eared man yourself. He has that way about him; that awful, innate ability to get under your skin without trying. Still, to see him this visibly upset? In your experience he is more of a quiet loathing type of angry as opposed to whatever it was he just did.

Conversation eventually returns to normal: discussions of raids, population growth, shimmer levels. You tune most of it out and continue eating your meal when your name draws you out of your reverie. It’s Ekko again.

“That sound okay?” He asks, his eyes searching yours.

“Hmm? Sorry.”

“The briefing. Tonight, in my workshop.”

You fumble to put his words to meanings in your brain. Right, tomorrow’s raid. You can distantly recall being told you’d be going on your first job on the way back from your apartment this morning, but you weren’t exactly in the headspace to take in any information.

“Yes, I’ll be there,” you finally respond.

Ekko smiles, “Glad to hear it.”

It is a small group gathered in his workshop, waiting for Ekko’s game plan in the quickly setting sun. Everything is coated in a soft pink hue, and you find yourself watching a small bug walk directly into a fly-eating plant, the jaws closing so slowly that the fly doesn’t even realize it’s being devoured. A shiver crawls down your spine as it finally closes shut.

You can put a name to every face you see in the room, which isn’t really that impressive considering there’s six of you waiting for Ekko’s arrival, but you give yourself the small victory. Scar is, as usual, leaning against a wall and looking like he’d rather be doing anything else. Malia and Eve are chatting in front of you and the other two soldiers are standing in silence. Everyone turns when Ekko walks in, giving him their full attention.

“Good to see you all here,” he looks around at everyone, eyes finally landing on you. You shift. He pulls out a floor plan and spreads it on the table in front of him, waiting for you all to gather around him. “We recently got a tip of a shimmer factory in the wharf district. It isn’t a huge operation so taking it down won’t be difficult.” He points to a door on the side of the building. “They stop production around midnight, and this is the only active entrance after they close down for the night. From what we can gather, it’s pretty understaffed, so getting in and out shouldn’t be a problem.”

One of the soldiers behind you speaks up, “How much are they producing. Like, how large of an operation is this place?” He points a finger to the map. “This building is massive.”

“Actually, not that much.” he looks at Ekko curiously. He continues, “but we do know it is a central hub for transfers out of Zaun and into foreign markets. Not only that, but we have reason to believe it is also used as a storehouse for other factories, meaning it’s connected.” He looks up at you, “If we can get any information out of this factory before we burn it down, we could get the location of several other factories around the undercity.”

“You want me to get into the overseer’s office?” You interrupt and the rest of the group turns to look at you. “Er… that is why you want me on this job, right?”

Ekko smiles that mischievous smile you find yourself growing to love, “That is exactly what I want you to be doing.” He turns back to the others. “The rest of you should focus on clearing the building out and getting rid of all the shimmer you can, let her handle the office. That okay with you?” You nod. Of course it’s okay with you, this is what you do best.

“And if the overseer happens to be in and decides to send out an alarm as soon as they see her?” Scar says. You glare up at him. He doesn’t even spare a glance towards you.

“Then I’ll handle it.” You bite back. Ekko glances between the two of you but says nothing.

“Right, well… You’ll head out tomorrow around 11:30. Does anyone have any questions?” Everyone shakes their head. “Great,” he claps his hands, “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

You turn to leave with the others, but Ekko calls your name. You bite back a groan, not in the mood for a lecture about Scar. “Are you comfortable with this? I’m sorry I put you on the spot back there. I know you’re used to stealing shimmer, so I assumed you would be okay getting documents instead. If you don’t think you can handle it, it’s okay.”

You stare at him for a second before answering, “What? Oh no. This is what I’m best at.”

He arches an eyebrow at you, “It is?”

“Yes… Er… how hard can it be right? Just some papers.” You purse your lips.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” He asks. It isn’t accusatory like you were expecting. He phrases it as any other question.

“Yes.”

“And you aren’t gonna talk about it, are you?”

“No.” You really, really don’t want to, “Unless I need to.” Fighting the urge to scratch at the branding, you cross your arms.

“I won’t force you, it just… might be nice to get some things off your chest is all.” If only he knew the half of it.

“Well, when I need a therapy session, I’ll be sure to come to you.” It is harsher than he deserves but you can’t really help it. His smile falters and he looks almost hurt. With nothing left to say, you turn and walk out the door, heading straight to your room. It’s been a long fucking day.

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

You’re in a much better mood the next morning. The sunshine in the courtyard that hits your face as soon as you walk outside helps exponentially. As does your warm cup of tea and bowl of rice porridge. You can make this a good day. You’ll stick to your mental list, kick ass tonight, and go to bed a better person than yesterday, right?

You walk back into the courtyard after finishing your small breakfast to see a gaggle of kids sitting in a circle in the dirt. You had no intention of going up to them—you meant to go back to the training room. It isn’t that you don’t like kids, they’re… fine. You just don’t really know what the hell you’re supposed to say to them, always worried you’ll say something too violent without meaning it. Especially with these kids. Growing up with the Firelights is a hell of a lot different from growing up in the undercity.

So it comes as a surprise when a young girl who can’t be older than 4 runs up to you and tugs at the sleeve of your shirt. “You’re the new lady, right? My ma told me about you.” She smiles up at you, golden brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight. Damned kids, they’re like vultures. Little, adorable vultures.

“That’s right,” you answer. Your voice isn’t exactly harsh… just uninterested.

“Come meet everyone!” She tugs at your sleeve to lead you back, and you let her despite yourself.

You crouch down to get eye level with the group that soon surrounds you. A small redhead looks at you with what must be the largest eyes you’ve ever seen. “I heard your name is Pip.” A girl next to him snickers.

“And who told you that?” You already know who it is. Damned Jordyn.

The kid slaps his hand to his mouth to try and muffle his laugh, “I’onno,” he says, feigning innocence.

You furrow your brows at the kid and he shrinks back a little. It twinges your heart to see so you stick a tongue out at him and his smile returns slowly. “Alright! You got me! My name is Pip Squeak. But you can’t tell the adults alright? I’m trying to work on my tough guy persona” You puff out your chest and flex dramatically. He laughs and the sound is like music to your ears. You reach out and grab his sides to tickle him. The kids around you erupt into hysterics.

“Get her!” one cries.

Suddenly, you find yourself completely swarmed by young children. You let them wrestle you to the ground. A girl with curly, blonde hair jumps onto your stomach and does her very best to tickle you back with her chubby, ungraceful fingers.

You gently push the kids off of you and stand up at full height, letting out the best monster noise you can manage. The kids scream playfully.

You sit back on the ground and they surround you with wide, curious eyes. “Well? You all know my name. It doesn’t seem fair that I don’t know your names.” The kids consider your request very seriously, murmuring and glancing between one another. Finally, the redhead speaks up. They go around the circle and rattle of their names in varying degrees of clarity. As you listen to them, that increasingly familiar pang of envy begins to gnaw at your gut. These kids don’t know how lucky they are, and you pray to the Gods that they never figure it out.

A young woman comes out of the door to a small wooden hut built into the wall. She walks over to your group holding a small bundle of fabric. “Alright kiddos, it’s nap time,” she says, her voice soft and melodic.

A collective groan erupts from the children surrounding you. One small voice speaks in protest, “Nooooo but we wanna hang out with Pip!”

The woman looks at you suspiciously, “Oh. Pip you say?” Her voice is playful. You can’t recall the woman’s name, but you’re certain you met.

You shrug your shoulders at her and ruffle the hair of the girl clinging to your leg. “How about I come with to get ready for your nap. Whaddya say?” This answer seems to satisfy the kids, and your group makes its way back to the hut. Inside you see what seems to be a nursery; toys and books fill the shelves lining the walls and a row of small cots are placed off to the far side of the room.

The woman turns to you as the kids begin to settle into their individual cots. “My name is Jess, by the way. I know they can be a handful; I appreciate you giving them your time.”

You shake your head earnestly, “Not at all!” You look down at the bundle in her arms and realize it’s the baby you saw Scar holding on your first morning here. “Is that Scar’s kid?”

She nods, “Yeah, this is Aster.” She looks down at the sleeping child and smiles. “Hey, I don’t mean to throw even more at you, but do you think you could hold her while I get the kids down for their nap?”

Before you can even answer she is placing the baby in your arms and walking back to the toddlers in their beds. You freeze, staring down at the creature in your hands completely unsure what to do. You don’t think you’ve ever held a baby before. Aster shifts at the sudden change but settles quickly in your arms. You go through what you think a baby needs while it’s being held: head is supported, she’s not upside down, you’re pretty sure she isn’t going to drop out of your arms. You can do this. You’ve killed people dammit, sold shimmer, run from enforcers. You can hold a baby for a few minutes while that poor, overworked woman deals with the kids she needs to look after—you aren’t really sure she’s overworked but you know you would be if you had five toddlers to take care of and a baby.

Aster begins to fuss in your arms, her tiny, chubby face contorting and she begins to whimper. You can handle this. You try to think what people do with babies. You remember Scar rocking her, so you do your best to rock back and forth, throwing in a “shhh” for good measure. By some miracle it works, and Aster begins to settle, her face relaxing and her quiet, pitiful whimpers subsiding. You smile down at her. She is really fucking cute. Like… sure, every baby is ‘cute’ but this kid… Wow. You realize, the longer you hold her in your arms, that she smells familiar. It takes you a second to place it and then it clicks. She smells like flowers. She is the reason Scar smells like flowers. You don’t really know how to process this information, but it makes your heart do funny things that you don’t like one bit.

You don’t even notice that Jess has tucked the kids in. “She’s a little angel, isn’t she?” Her voice is soft and quiet as she looks down fondly at the sleeping infant in your arms.

“Yeah.” You look back up at her, “I don’t know where she gets it, probably her mom. Can’t be from her dad.” You don’t even think about what you’re saying before the words leave your mouth. Oops. You bite your lip.

She laughs, “No, Scar is really great with her. Don’t tell him I told you this, but he gets a little misty-eyed every time he drops her off in the morning.” You look at her incredulously, of all the things you could picture Scar doing, crying is just above apologizing.

“Who is her mom, anyways?” You finally risk asking the question that’s been on your mind from the moment you saw Scar with the baby. Purely out of curiosity, you remind yourself, not for any other, more personal reason. You force yourself to remember the list. Not that it matters anyways, if anything you should feel sorry for whoever gets stuck with Scar.

“She… isn’t around anymore.” Jess’s once relaxed and open demeanor seems to shrink back a bit. You make a mental note to not push that anymore, with anyone.

You sigh gently, looking back to Aster. You need to leave and get ready for the day, but you find yourself wounded at the thought of leaving her. What the fuck is happening to you? Jess seems to notice your hesitation, “You can come visit whenever you want. I won’t tell Scar, Pip.” She uses the name affectionally and another part of you melts. Maybe I do like kids… who’da thunk it.

After prying Aster out of your arms and back into the much more experienced care of Jess, you return to your original goal of the training room. It is empty when you walk in, which you tentatively take as another good sign for today.

The punching bag seems to be mocking you as it sways lightly from its chains, so you resolve to show it no mercy. It is your kicks this time, not your punches, that takes the focus of your workout. It isn’t like you’re planning on fighting Scar again… but it would probably be good to be able to throw a few kicks without getting your ass handed to you.

By the time you finally leave you are dripping with sweat and exhausted, but you feel good, damnit. And no one came to interrupt, which is even better. You take a cold shower and spend the rest of your afternoon mentally preparing for tonight’s raid.

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

Malia and Eve are already waiting near the hideout entrance when you make your way down. Malia smiles at you and Eve puts the butt cigarette she was smoking out on her shoe. “Didn’t know you smoked,” you say.

She shrugs and says nothing, silently offering you one. You shake your head, and she shrugs again, pulling a fresh one from her pocket.

You adjust the straps of the bag slung across your back. This actually feels pretty natural for you: waiting to break into a guarded facility. If you weren’t with the Firelights, this would feel exactly like any other night. You’re wearing your usual uniform of black, skintight clothes and wearing a bag big enough to put whatever you find away safely. The knife attached to your hip is a welcome, familiar weight. Really, it’s ironic how full circle you’ve come: stealing information to stealing shimmer and right back to stealing information. You laugh out loud, and Malia looks at you, you say nothing.

Ekko walks up with the rest of the soldiers to see the six of you off. He looks you up and down and a flash of concern ghosts over his usually bright eyes; you should apologize for how you acted yesterday. Not in front of everyone else, of course, but you make a mental note to talk to him later.

“Everyone feel ready?” His tone is normal which makes you feel a bit better—not that you thought he was one to skulk. You all nod in agreement. He goes over the plan one last time before opening the door and watching as the six of you walk away.

The sounds of footsteps echo down the stone tunnel as you walk. Your torchlight illuminates Scar as he leads the group down the tunnel, his large back blocking most of your vision. It feels wrong to break the quiet, but you can’t stand to walk in silence and resolve to making small talk with Malia who walks besides you.

The wharf is close enough that you don’t take hoverboards—which you would have much preferred even just to show off your improvement—and it only takes a few minutes by foot before you are standing outside of a massive building. The smog of the city always mixes eerily with the mist rolling off of the water and the red lights glowing outside of the factory adds to the unsettling atmosphere.

“Can’t believe this was under out noses the whole time,” Eve’s voice is distorted slightly from her mask, and it reminds you to slip your own over your head.

“We can’t go around checking every building in Zaun,” says the soldier wearing a cat shaped mask behind you.

“Still. I’ve probably walked past this godsdammed place a thousand times and they’ve been shipping out shimmer the whole time. Pisses me off.”

“Will all of you shut up?” It’s Scar’s voice. You had forgotten how fucking sinister he looks in his own mask—not that he isn’t terrifying without it. “Malia, you take out the guards at the door. The rest of us will follow in once they’re down. You,” he looks at you now, “don’t fuck it up, got it?”

“I can handle myself,” you hiss. This fucking asshole.

Malia is already walking towards the guards, her demeanor completely different from her prim, postured norm.

She stalks over towards the two guards sitting outside of the door, keeping low to the ground. They don’t notice her until she lets out a long, low whistle. One of them picks his head up and calls out into the night. Malia says nothing and continues her slow advance, this time standing up straight.

The other man notices her finally and flicks his cigarette onto the ground. “You better turn around and go back to where you came from,” he calls menacingly.

Malia snaps her head to a harsh angle, staring the man down, almost like a crow. Right, duh. Makes sense, that’s her mask.

Suddenly, faster than the men can react, she rushes them and plunges a knife into each neck. They don’t even have a chance to yell before they topple to the ground, choaking on their own blood.

Your group begins to advance slowly. Sure, you could follow them into the main room, wait for them to clear out any goons, before finally being allowed to go into the overseer’s office once they’ve made sure its safe for you, like Scar would probably prefer. Or you could do it your way. You like the second option much better

Breaking off from the group as they enter the now unguarded door, you scramble up a low wall and onto a small window ledge. Gently, you pry the window open and drop into the warehouse, silent as a cat. You find yourself on a high balcony overlooking the factory floor. Barrels of shimmer sit in rows below you. You take a moment to situate yourself from what you can remember of the floorplans you looked at last night. If you’re here… then… Right. The door at the end of the balcony must be the entrance to the hallway that leads to the office. This is child’s play, you think.

You walk down the balcony, keeping yourself low to the wall. Footsteps around the corner catch your attention. You duck behind a pile of boxes, and you silently pull your knife out of your belt, just in case. You don’t exactly like killing people, but you’re not against it if the situation demands a bit of violence. Luckily, the man rounds the corner and keeps walking, completely oblivious to your presence. You wait a moment for him to be out of earshot before slipping from your hiding spot and continuing down the balcony.

Carefully you open the door to the hallway and slink inside. The door at the end of the hallway must be the office and a rush of confidence surges through your veins.

Getting inside is painfully easy, the damned door isn’t even locked. The room is nice, you suppose, but you’ve seen better; this factory is pretty clearly a low-level supplier. Finding the information isn’t too difficult either. Once you make it inside of the pathetically locked filing cabinet, you are rewarded with several folders full of papers and a quick glance at them confirms that they are, in fact, records of dealings with other factories and warehouses. Ekko’s information was sound.

You turn to leave, feeling very smug, when a small, locked case above your head catches your eye. It is slightly out of reach, so you hop onto the filing cabinet to pick the lock. It is harder to crack which makes you even more intrigued; whatever is in here must be worth safeguarding. Just as you click the final pin in place, Scar’s sharp voice catches your attention.

“Kirranari!” You whip around, nearly falling off the cabinet. “You were supposed to stay with the fucking group,” he bites from behind his mask.

The door to the case opens before you get a chance to ask him what the hell he called you. You turn back to see what it is you gained access to. It’s a case full of… alcohol? That’s what this overseer was so intent on keeping safe and not the pages and pages of confidential dealings?

You are about to tell him off when the same man you saw on the balcony rounds the corner. He startles when he sees the two of you and whips out a pistol from a holster along his chest.

You know you should jump out of the way, or duck, or something, but you find yourself frozen. His face… You didn’t see it before, but there is no mistaking it. The harsh angle of his once broken nose or the scar running down the side of his face; this is absolutely one of Chross’s enforcers. You can recall so clearly the smarmy grin on his face whenever you were brough into his office for one of your many fuck ups. Your stomach churns uncomfortably. What the fuck is he doing here? I thought this was one of Silco’s factories.

A bullet fires from the pistol, and you don’t even react until it wizzes past your ear, imbedding itself into the wall just a few inches from your head. The man is dead on the ground before you can think to move, Scar standing over him, bloodied spear in hand.

He whips around and walks over to you. Heavy hands coming down on your shoulders brings you back to reality, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You don’t have an answer.

Once again, bile threatens to spill up from your gut. You force it back down. “S-sorry, I just… wasn’t thinking.” Your voice is much weaker than you want it to be.

“You could have fucking died and all you have to say is that you weren’t thinking?” He shakes you, claws digging into the sides of your arms.

He’s right, you think, bitterly. The letter has you jumpy. For all you know, the guy stopped working for Chross after you left. And even if he still did, it’s not like he could recognize you under the mask. Pull yourself together.

You let out a long, low sigh, still looking up into Scar’s mask. “I found booze!” You say, bringing an arm up as far as you can with his hands still holding you in place—as though that negates what just happened.

He snarls and lets you go with a shove. “Don’t fuck around like that again,” he says before walking out of the office and back towards the balcony, stepping over the body in the hallway.

You will yourself to snap out of it as you place the bottles into your bag alongside the folders. You don’t know exactly what the alcohol is, but it looks strong and expensive, which is exactly what you need.

You are met by the other soldiers on the floor of the factory. “Any luck?” Malia calls when she sees you approaching. Scar must not have told her.

A nod, “Yeah, tons of information. I’ve got it all in here.” You throw a thumb back towards your bag and she gives you an approving thumbs up.

They make quick work of sloshing cans of gas around the factory and once everyone is our, Eve lights a match from her pocket and tosses it into the building. Fire catches immediately and it isn’t long before flames begin to lick at the sides of the shimmer barrels. No one remains long enough to watch it blow especially knowing the crowd such a large fire will attract, and you are all several meters away when an explosion sounds.

You gnaw on your lip beneath your mask the whole trip back, reducing it to a bloody lump. I need to figure my shit out, now. This stupid anxiety is beginning to become a serious problem. Private panic attacks you can handle, but nearly dying in front of Scar? Really, being in any state of venerability in front of him is a problem, regardless of whether or not it’s life threatening.

You adjust your bag without thinking and clinking of bottles in your bag drags you from your thoughts and Eve shoots a look back towards you. “Doesn’t sound like papers in there.”

“She found alcohol in the office,” Scar says, not turning back as he leads your group through the mazes of tunnels.

Malia perks up, “Oh shit really? Is it any good?”

“I couldn’t really say, but it was locked up like it was.” You say, reaching into your bag and pull a bottle out, handing it to her.

She adjusts her light onto the label, “Holy fuck. This stuff is really expensive. Good find, Pip.”

You groan, “Not you too.” Fucking Jordyn. She shoots a masked look back at you and giggles, jogging off to show the man in the cat mask, who hums appreciatively.

Most of the hideout has gone to bed by the time you return, but you’re greeted with a small welcome party. You slide your mask back onto your belt and smile at them, desperately trying to put the last few hours behind yourself. Sure you almost died, but you got what you needed from the factory, that’s something, right?

You pull the folders out of your bag and hand them to Ekko who flips through them quickly. “Holy shit. This is huge, I can’t thank you enough,” he says and hands them to a woman next to him, asking her to take them back to his workshop to look at later. Malia calls you back to the group and you oblige.

You see Scar pull Ekko aside. The conversation looks heated, but you don’t have the energy or the drive to try and listen in. If Scar has a problem with you, he can say it to your face.

Once greetings are finished and Scar and Ekko have rejoined the group, you pull a couple bottles out of your bag and hold them up for everyone to see. “Anyone up for a bit more?” Not a single person denies your offer and a few minutes later everyone is crowded around a table in the empty mess hall.

Jordyn emerges from the kitchen with a tray of assorted, unmatching cups and you begin to pour out healthy servings of the alcohol into each. You give Jordyn a questioning look with an arched eyebrow, pausing at the cup in front of them. They smirk and nod wordlessly. So much for not touching anything.

Ekko holds his own cup up and everyone looks at him expectantly, “To a job fucking well done.”

Cheers erupt around the table, and everyone takes a drink. You down your drink in one gulp and—to your surprise—so does Scar. Malia wasn’t lying when she said this stuff was strong and you wince as it burns a path down your throat and into your belly.

You don’t intend to drink as much as you do, but as soon as Jordyn pulls out a deck of cards and proposes a drinking game, you know you’re done for. The rules don’t make sense even after they are explained several times to you and you find yourself losing more than anyone in the group, which doesn’t help in your confusion.

After about three shots too many you realize it may not be the worst idea to get some food in your stomach—anything to soak up the alcohol. As soon as you stand, it’s as if all the alcohol you have consumed throughout the night finally decided to kick in and… woah. You can’t remember being this drunk. Come to think of it… you can’t remember much of anything.

You stumble towards the general vicinity of the kitchen and begin rooting around for something to eat. Once the door is closed, the laughter and conversation from the table is muffled and you take a moment to drunkenly enjoy the silence. Only one light is on over the sink and it’s just so peaceful in here… what did you come here for again?

Food! Right.

Coordination, you find, is extremely difficult and it takes you three tries to get your hand on the cabinet door. You yank it open triumphantly and—not realizing how close your face was—proceed to smack yourself directly in the nose. “Owwwww,” you groan out, a hand going to clutch your aching nose.

A barking laugh startles you and you jump around, a yelp stifled under your hand. Scar is leaning against the counter looking annoyingly sober. “What the fuck do y’want?” Your words are slurred, and you struggle to keep him in focus, making your glare look more like a confused stare. Fuck, I’m wasted.

“Wanted to watch the show.” He folds his arms across his insanely broad and muscular chest. Damn. Has he always been this hot? You blink. Where the hell did that thought come from?

“Ya know… I should pro’bly thank you… for uh… savin my life.” You look up at his stupid, handsome face.

He angles his chin up and looks down at you. “You should.”

“But I won’t,” your giggle is light and hysterical and if you were sober in this moment you’d be kicking yourself for acting like a teenager. Get a grip, but your drunk mind refuses to heed any warning. You think you can remember having a list or something… what was it again? The memory is a blur, and you give up.

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t snarl at you like you were expecting. You turn back around and pluck a loaf of bread from the cabinet, shoving your hands into the bag and pulling a couple of slices out.

You turn around and hop up onto the counter to face Scar who is still standing there. Why is he here, anyways. He stares intently as you take a mouthful of the plain bread, chewing intently as you look back at him. Your brows furrow, with a mouth still full of bread you ask, “Why d’you hate me so much?” The question isn’t harsh, you genuinely want to know. “I mean, I know we got off on a bad foot or whatever,” your legs swing from under you, bouncing your heels against the base of the counter.

“I don’t hate you.” He sounds uninterested but not bored.

“You act like you do. You always have tha’stupid snarl on your face,” you take another mouthful of bread. Scar says nothing. “I just think you could stand to be a l’il nicer, s’all.”

The door of the kitchen opens and Jordyn pops their head inside, smiling when they see you. “Pip, I was missin you. Come on back.” They sound about as drunk as you are. You hop down from the counter and, after taking a moment to get your balance back, walk back into the mess hall.

The group is slightly smaller than when you started. Ekko has already left with Eve and a couple others, leaving only you, Jordyn, Scar, and the two other soldiers that came on your raid today. You plop down on the chair next to Jordyn and feel their arm fall over your shoulder. Maybe you should care, but it’s nice to have someone close to you. Especially as muscular as Jordyn. You’re pathetic. Scar would feel better. Bet he’s warmer. He was practically on fire yesterday in the gym.

The memory of the gym twists something strange and deep in your gut. You push your hair out of your eyes. Your clothes feel too tight, and the air around you feels too hot. You need to leave, to get some fresh air. Jordyn, mercifully, doesn’t react when you jump out of their grasp and stumble for the door. “M’ goin to bed,” you mumble before pushing out into the cool of the night.

You practically moan at the feeling of the night air on your skin; this is exactly what you needed. To be out of the noise and the heat and the people. It isn’t enough, you realize, you need more. Practically tripping over your feet, you make your way to the hoverboard that has been left out near the entrance to the mess hall.

“Don’t.” A familiar voice behind you calls, “you’re gonna snap your neck.”

“Am not,” you bite back to Scar, not realizing how fucking childish you sound. You place the board down and step into it.

Right before you can start it up, a hand wraps around your wrist. “I said don’t. I saved your life once today, don’t make me do it again.” A shiver rolls down your spine. What is this man doing to me?

“I-” words fail you as you look up into those green eyes. “M-maybe yeah…”

His brows furrow at something, but before you can ask, he is lifting your arm up and pushing your sleeve up. Your heart tuns to ice and your stomach clenches painfully as he gazes at the branding in your flesh. This is it, you think in a drunken, terrified blur, they’re gonna think I’m a spy, or untrustworthy, or even worse: pathetic. Gods, you don’t want that. You can’t bear the thought of pity.

Scar, seeming to notice the fear in your eyes, says nothing as he pushes the sleeve back down. “You need to get to bed.” His voice is soft and lacking its usual sharpness. You suck a breath in as all the tension leaves your body. Fuck. Your knees go out and you feel yourself tumbling towards the floor. He grabs you again, wrapping two large hands under your arms and hoisting you back up. “You’re wasted.” He sounds unamused.

“Nuh-uh.” Even you know it’s a lie. He just… looks at you. You push yourself out of his arms and start to walk back through the courtyard and to your room. You get about two steps before you stumble again and this time there is no large chirean to catch you.

He walks over and peers down at you. “You gonna let me help you? Or did you plan on crawling back to your room?”

You scowl at him. “I don’ need your help, pretty boy.” Gods damn it all, did you say that out loud? From the way his lips twist, you did. You slap a hand to your head, dragging it down your face. “Fine…” you mumble, cheeks burning.

Tentatively, you reach your hands up, expecting him to pull you back to your feet. So it comes as a complete surprise when he bends down and wraps one arm under your back and another under your knees to lift you completely, as if you weigh nothing. He must know what he’s doing, right?

You struggle in his arms for a moment—whether it is out of a genuine desire to be put down or simply to save face you don’t really know—and he only tightens his grip. “You couldn’t walk two steps; I don’t have the patience to watch you stumble all the way back. Now quit squirming.” His tone is surprisingly gentle, you stop resisting, leaning your head against his shoulder and take in his smell for the second time. It is still just as irresistible.

You’re quiet for a while and you realize that it is almost… nice? It’s nice to be carried by him; despite how absolutely insulting it is to your agency. You feel safe—which is not an experience you take lightly. “I met Aster this morning,” you finally say, voice quiet in the night air. He looks down at you for a moment but doesn’t stop walking. “I don’t really like kids but… she’s pretty sweet. An’ she’s lucky to have you as her dad… I guess.”

He lets out a woosh of air that could almost be considered a laugh. “Glad you think so.” You close your eyes and stay silent for the rest of the walk back to your bedroom.

He lays you down in your bed with a surprising amount of gentleness and you flutter your eyes gently open to see him staring down at you. There is a look of… something in his eyes. He turns to leave and you feel a pang of sadness. “Scar,” you call almost inaudibly. His ears twitch and he turns back towards you, “please don’t tell Ekko…”

You see in his gaze that he understands what you mean. The branding. “We’ll talk tomorrow, Kirranari.”

“Wait,” he stops and turns back to you, looking only slightly exasperated, “wha’s that? Kirranari? Ya said it back in the factory… I think.” The word stumbles from your lips in a butchered pronunciation compared to the way he says it, which is almost… reverent.

You can’t read his expression, “’One who sneaks’. It’s chireanai,” he rolls his eyes at your lack of comprehension. Hey, I’m drunk, not like it’s my fault. “It means ‘rat’.” He closes the door without waiting for your answer.

You fall asleep with a stupid, drunken smile on your face.

I knowwww chirean’s don’t technically speak with words but indulge me. I love sweet, soft Scar so bad guys. He’s my favorite DILF. Ok, gonna go write chapter 5. I love you all so much, thank you for sticking with me for this silly little story that I have put way too much of myself into. Oh well!!

Tag List: @kiannaf @awenthealchemist @calciferthelivingfire

#Scar #Scar arcane #Scar x reader #Scar arcane x reader #arcane #arcane x reader #fanfiction #league of legends x reader #league of legends

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