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twstjam · 7 months

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Lost Invitation (Part 2) - Respond, if you please

Sorry, I said half an hour, but blocking people took a bit longer than expected <3 Starting from now I'll be blocking everyone who likes Lost Invitation without reblogging it. If you reblog it onto a sideblog and I've blocked your main, do tell me or you might miss out on updates!!

Characters: Malleus Draconia, Meleanor Draconia, Levan Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver (brief), Sebek Zigvolt (mentioned), Yuu (mentioned) Word count: 4.6k (sorry, I got carried away writing the draconia fam lol) Summary: You're committed to helping Riddle Rosehearts and his card soldiers in a war against followers of the Jabberwock looking to usurp the rulers of Red and White. You're also in love with a stranger you met in the woods who wants you to run away with him. Whoever said that love and war weren't so different might've been onto something. In your experience, they're both equally difficult. Nobody ever said that you had to choose between one or the other though. Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Prince Malleus Draconia is not lonely.

He hasn't been since before he hatched, his mother had made sure of it. He has faded memories of dozing off to his mother's soft singing, listening to his father's long ramblings, and curling up in the safety of the right-hand general's presence.

After hatching, his mother had doted on him like any prince of the Briar Lands deserved to be. Her and Father had indulged his every whim and desire. The servants bowed and trembled before the wrath of a newly-born dragonling who, though only three feet long, snarled his grievances accompanied by licks of fire and brewing snowstorms. Lilia Vanrouge was the only one to not kneel so easily.

Malleus Draconia was a prince and a hatchling, but Lilia did not treat him as such. Lilia scolded him like he would Mother, a matured dragon, and only complimented or rewarded him when he earned it. Needless to say, he was not favored amongst the little prince's guardians… or so Lilia says as he laments on the times Malleus used to set his hair ablaze. It had enlightened Malleus as to why the general currently wears his hair so short as opposed to the portraits he'd seen, but the prince—as it is the nature of fleeting old memories—cannot vividly recall his caretaker's tales. They also struck him as incredibly odd and he concluded that as an infant he had been a foolish thing (despite his parents' insistence otherwise). After all, Lilia is his most favored caretaker. This favoritism had even led to Malleus seeking Lilia out when he had hidden himself away one day, giving the prince the honor of being the first to meet the general's adopted son.

Silver had been an enigma to him. How could a meek little human infant, a species which his mother mocked frequently for their weakness and stupidity, appeal to a hardened fae general? It was even stranger to him that Mother seemed to completely forget her disdain for humans when she saw the little bundle in Lilia's arms. Though he would never say it aloud, Malleus had felt betrayed when his mother had asked to hold the child and took him from Lilia eagerly.

This little… thing, could not even hold itself up or eat solid food, let alone seek it out itself. It was useless and weak and nothing like the fierce creature Malleus had been when he broke out of his shell. Or at least, that's what Malleus used to think.

Truly, Malleus must not have been as exceptional of an infant as his parents insist. Malleus had spent 20 years crawling, meanwhile Silver mastered walking on two legs in mere months. Instead of cawing and snarling, the child babbled and laughed, elicited smiles from those around him, made warmth swell in Malleus's chest when he called the prince's name for the first time. The boy had still been small, not even 5 years old, and yet he had been able to climb up Malleus's legs and sit on his lap when he had invited him to read with him.

Sebek exhibited similar speed in growth. Malleus had blinked, and suddenly the little halfling had risen from a screeching newt into a strong guard that rivaled his own grandfather. Sebek likes to shadow him, always quick to see to his every need and always eager to win his approval. It's overbearing at some points, but the boy is growing and learning and has come to put his loyalty to use for only matters worthy of it, learning from Lilia and Silver to not merely agree to Malleus's every breath.

The revelation for such a change brought all four of them closer. It's not rare to see the two young knights by the prince's side, the former general watching after them from not far off.

Suffice to say, Malleus Draconia is not lonely. Absolutely not.

As a matter of fact, he quite likes being alone; the peacefulness of isolation, the escape from his demanding responsibilities. He has to return to the castle at some point of course. He has duties to his kingdom, but no matter how brief, he takes the opportunity to have some time for himself. To have some time to indulge his desires instead of being Prince Malleus; to be away from the expectations of his subjects and parents and instead cater to only himself.

He never quite expected to meet someone searching for something similar. At the very least, not at the same place, and you continued to surprise him in ways he could have never imagined.

After all, who could have predicted that a revered dragon prince of the fae would fall in love with a human?

----

Perhaps to any other, days at Wild Rose Castle could be considered dull, either because of the dim lighting and black walls or the castle staff that always hurry by without a whisper of a breath and with bowed heads.

If one were to ask Malleus however, he would say that days at the castle are always hectic. It's a good day when the castle is serenely dark and gloomy, but on others…

"Your DISGRACE of an offspring is a pathetic sprite unworthy of my son! How DARE you even consider a courtship between them?!"

Lightning fills the throne room with a bright purple light. Three aristocrats yelp and scramble to avoid the strikes of lightning coming down from the ceiling. Princess Meleanor's glare is deadly as she lifts and aims her staff to bring down another volley of lightning.

"P-p-please forgive us for our transgressions, your excellency!" the patriarch weeps as his family collapses to the floor in frantic bows. From his throne, Malleus can see the family's young heir trembling with choked sobs. His mother isn't the least bit appeased, her glare hardening and her staff crackling with power.

"ENOUGH! I will not tolerate any more nonsense out your blabbering mouth! You have come into my home, insulted my son, and dirtied my floor!" Meleanor raises her staff with a furious snarl. The magic surrounding it strikes the ceiling and deflects into multiple bolts of lightning throughout the throne room. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT AND DO NOT DARKEN MY DOORSTEP EVER AGAIN!"

The nobles scramble back onto their feet and skitter out with fearful screams. The wails of Malleus's attempted suitor echo through the halls of the castle until the doors slam shut behind them.

Meleanor raises her head proudly, huffing a satisfied plume of smoke out of her nostrils. Beside the sighing Lord Levan, Lilia Vanrouge has his head in his hands.

"What nerve, to ask permission for our Malleus's hand whilst showing such disrespectful behavior!" Meleanor spins around with a flare of her cloak and seats herself on her throne, one leg crossed over the other. "I should have incinerated that child where they stood!"

"I'm quite certain your outburst had spoken the message quite clearly, my lady," Lilia says with no small amount of disapproval.

"I agree with Lilia." Malleus's mother whirls around to face him with a betrayed expression on her face. "It is no fault of theirs that I failed to give my full attention to them. They had every right to call out my rude behavior."

Meleanor scowls and tosses her head again. "If you exhibit overly courteous behavior then those stuck-up aristocrats will become too comfortable to speak ill of you. As a dragon, you must present yourself as one!"

"That courteousness is the only reason the staff does not perish within breathing distance of him," Lilia argues. Meleanor shoots him a glare but he isn't deterred. "The poor boy already has issue forming relationships. Your volcanic temper is not doing him any favors."

"I will deal with those interested in the future king of the Briar Lands and my son however I wish! In case you have forgotten, I am your princess and his mother!"

"He is 178, he is not a hatchling, Meleanor!"

"Regardless of his age I have no intention of allowing him to be mistreated or his heart to be broken."

"At the expense of others?!"

"Yes!"

"Ah, there he goes."

Meleanor straightens up from how she had been bent over to glare at the short general and they both look over at Levan. They follow his gaze and briefly see Malleus's tail slipping out of the throne room.

"Darling!" Meleanor gathers her skirt to dash after her son. As Malleus makes his escape, Lilia groans and slumps over the arm of Levan's throne. His friend pats his back in sympathy.

"You really must do something about that wife of yours," Lilia grumbles. Levan laughs nervously, but there's also fondness in his eyes.

"She is simply doing what she thinks is best for our son."

"It isn't and you know it is!" Lilia huffs, craning his neck to glare up at the lord. The corvid fae smiles sweetly and leans towards him with his elbows resting on the armrest.

"Have I told you how much cuter you look when you're angry?"

Lilia sputters, face turning vibrant red. "Be serious!"

"I am serious," Levan hums as he reaches to tuck some hair behind Lilia's ear. The other general swats his hand away and he laughs at the flustered pout on the smaller fae's face. "I pity those nobles, truly I do, but like you and I, I have a feeling our Meleanor knows that our young prince is keeping a secret. So at the end of the day, there is no harm done, hm?"

Lilia gapes and blinks at Levan in bewilderment.

"He told you?"

Levan smiles secretively, a hint of mischievousness in his eyes. He must know as much as Lilia does then, and though he is relieved to know that his friend is supportive of Malleus's feelings, he still dreads the inevitable of Meleanor discovering it for herself. Meleanor is both temperamental and viciously protective of her child, especially since his life had been threatened after she laid his egg during the human invasion centuries ago. It's quite easy to imagine her most likely reaction to her son being interested in courting a human.

"He did. He also requested assistance from me." Levan looks up and his eyes brighten. "There it is now."

Levan waves his hand. Lilia's keen ears catch the sound of beating wings and he turns around to see a window opening. A raven flies into the throne room and settles on Levan's offered arm. The bird caws a greeting to Lilia before bowing its head to the lord.

"Welcome back, my friend," Levan coos as he strokes its wing. "What news do you bring from the Rose Queendom?"

Lilia perks up at mention of the Rose Queendom and looks at the bird with interest. The familiar makes a series of clicks and squawks. Lilia isn't the most fluent in corvid speak so he waits for Levan to translate, but when he looks to his friend, the other fae's smile has turned into an ominous frown.

"…It's not good news, I'm guessing."

----

Malleus typically finds comfort in isolation. It brings him the silence he requires to think and focus on both official and personal matters. Unfortunately though, for his current predicament, his most trusted method of comfort only seems to distress him more.

The conflict between the Rose and Lily Queendoms is taking it's toll on you. It's inevitable—He sees it a lot in Father and Lilia, how their gazes would sometimes look haunted by ghosts unseen to him even when doing the most mundane tasks —but that does not mean Malleus has to like it, or that either him or you should simply allow it to wear you down.

Sometimes, when he is speaking with you, you would get a faraway look in your eyes, lost in thought. During those moments the bags beneath your eyes look more prominent, your body thinner, your skin paler. You would apologise for losing track of the conversation and Malleus would excuse it, but within his chest a pit grew deeper and deeper, filling with irrational concern for you.

The desire to hoard and care for those most cherished to him isn't a foreign feeling to Malleus. He recalls that at a young age he would nest with his parents at night and steal Lilia and his father's weapons to stop them from leaving the castle for their duties. Now, he watches over Silver while he sleeps and sits at the water's edge when Sebek practices his swimming.

It is something normal for dragons to want their loved ones happy and safe, but the way he feels it with you is incomparable. He cares for you, (which had initially surprised him, to care for a strange human) there's no doubt about it, but more than anything else he wants to be the one to care for you, to ensure your safety. To take you away and tuck you inside his wings, to gift you all the luxuries you could ever need so that you would no longer be hurt or troubled.

And the strangest thing? He desires the same thing from you as well. For you to care for him, cherish him, want him, love him. For you to take his hand and let him whisk you away to somewhere the two of you could see and speak to each other every day, where you could sit and listen contentedly to him and him to you and help him with his woes like he wishes to help you with yours.

Confiding in Lilia had been what led him to realise his feelings for you. The older fae's recollection of his parents' courtship had been… concerning, but it reassured Malleus that his desires were not unusual and that, most importantly, his beloved caretaker accepted you.

It had taken more courage to approach Lord Levan, but he should have known that his understanding father would support him wholeheartedly. At Malleus's request, his father had sent one of his ravens to the Queendom and Malleus now spends almost every waking moment anxious for its return.

Telling his mother about you is… another matter entirely.

You were right that it wouldn't be wise to bring you into his home. He loves his mother, but like him, she possesses the nature of the dragon. She is caring, excessively so, and… incredibly protective, to say the least.

And to say that Malleus is fearful of her discovering his romantic feelings for you, a human—a race she loathes with her entire being—is an understatement.

You are fearless, perhaps a little foolish, but not saneless. She will chase you off as she has many others. The incident today was only one of many.

Regardless of his mother's ill manners and your reluctance to be with him, Malleus's heart does not stop yearning and yearn he does as he sits alone in his rose garden, innocent red rose in hand, plucking each poor petal after the other as his thoughts whirl around his mind uselessly.

Perhaps he should have been more insistent. Perhaps he should have taken you back anyway. Perhaps—

"Malleus?"

The click of his mother's heels on the garden's stone path grow louder with each approaching step. Meleanor appears beneath the rose arch to the gazebo and Malleus hurriedly brushes off the petals that have gathered on his lap.

"There you are. I have been looking for you, dear." Mother smiles as she walks up the steps of the gazebo, the long train of her skirt dragging behind her. She eyes the rose petals scattered around him. "What are you doing?"

"Ah. I am picking rose petals… for tea." His mother raises an eyebrow at his reluctant tone so he quickly diverts the topic. "Am I needed somewhere, Mother?"

"No, no." Meleanor sweeps up her cloak to that it isn't trampled beneath her when she takes a seat next to him. "I was merely worried." With gentle claws, she cradles Malleus's chin and lifts his gaze to hers. "I did not scare you, did I?"

"No—" Never, he wants to say. Even if she can summon the most destructive storms and move mountains with a snap of her fingers, Malleus can never be afraid of his mother, but the churning feelings in his gut lodges the words in his throat.

Malleus pulls away from her touch, looking away before he can see her frown. "I apologise, Mother. I exhibited behavior unbecoming of a prince in front of our visitors."

Instead of reprimanding him, his mother laughs. She's always so self-assured; with her magic, with her choices. It's one of the many things he admires but also envies about his mother. If only he can reach that point of confidence in his life much sooner.

"My silly little beast. There is nothing to apologise for," his mother coos, brushing a lock of hair out of his face with a careful talon. "You did no harm. After all, you have been so distracted because you already have your eye on someone, don't you?"

Malleus turns towards his mother, wide-eyed, and her eyes glitter with excitement as she grins.

"How did you—" Malleus stops himself. How is he supposed to tread this? "…Did Father tell you?"

Meleanor's smile falls. "No, but I am hurt you chose to tell him before me."

Malleus swallows. He laces his fingers together in an effort to make himself feel less unsteady. "How do you know, then?"

"Come now, you didn't think a mother would not be able to see that her son has fallen in love, did you?" Meleanor giggles behind her claws, eyes bright with eagerness. She leans in towards her son and lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell me, tell me; what are they like? How did you meet? And most importantly: When will I meet them?"

Malleus opens his mouth and pauses. What does he tell her? Every scale on his being is restless, eager at the presented opportunity to talk about you, but certainly, he cannot tell his mother about you. About your humanity. She would, as Lilia frequently describes it, erupt. He did not need that display from earlier in the throne room to know this well.

(He grew up all his life with it after all; His mother losing her head at every slight insult or threat towards him and striking it with bolts of lightning until it runs away screaming.)

Malleus does not fear his mother, let alone resent her, but he does rather often catch himself wondering what it would be like if she were not so hot-headed.

"They are…" Malleus quickly trails off as soon as the attempt begins. He glances at his mother warily. She is giving him her full attention. The support should be encouraging, but the dread within him only increases. "You cannot meet them."

His mother reels back as if he had shocked her with electricity. Her eyes widen and then narrow. Her brows furrow and her lips pull into a displeased pout.

"Whyever not? …Are you ashamed of me?"

"What? No, of course not!"

"Embarrassed, perhaps?"

"Far from it."

"Then do you fear that I would scare them off?"

"Yes— Ah, I mean—!" Malleus screws his mouth shut and looks away again. Meleanor chuckles in amusement.

"Silly beast," she tuts. Behind him, Malleus's tail thumps agitatedly and she twines her own around it to soothe him. "I am flattered that you think so highly of me, but I assure you that any mate worthy of you will not cower so easily before me."

Malleus wraps his tail around his mother's offered one, but his expression is one of scepticism. "How do you know for certain? Do you truly have so much faith in my choice of a partner?"

"Oh, of course not! You are still just a little beast after all," Meleanor teases with a light pinch to his cheek. "What I mean is that, whoever you choose, we shall know if they are truly the correct mate for you if they remain beside you regardless of any trials."

"Oh… I see…" Malleus lowers his head. He clasps his hands tightly together. He can still remember the phantom feeling of your own hands on them, of you pulling away from him. Of him watching your retreating back after once more rejecting his offer to take you away.

"Darling?" His mother places her hands on his and the memory fades away. "Is something the matter?"

"I… I want you to meet them, truly I do, but…" Your face flashes before his eyes again, with it your shy smile and your voice whispering,

"Someday."

Malleus gathers his resolve and faces his mother. "Not anytime soon, I fear."

His mother pouts again. "Oh, come now—!"

"I don't think they would fear you." There's no way to know for certain until you actually meet her, but it is something he's fairly confident in. "It is that… they are currently occupied and will not be able to make time to come to our lands in the near future."

Meleanor's eyes light up with newfound interest. "Oh? They are not of the Briar Fae?"

Malleus bites his lip anxiously. "Er, no. They are—"

A bird sings overhead. The two dragons on the gazebo lift their heads and see a silver-haired knight walk through the rose arch.

"Lady Meleanor, Lord Malleus." Silver dips into a quick bow and rises again. "I apologise for interrupting."

"Oh, Silver! What a pleasant surprise. Have you finished your training today? Come, come. It has been too long since we last spoke." Meleanor beckons to the young knight to sit next to her.

"Er, if I recall correctly, we spoke just this morning—!"

Meleanor doesn't let him hesitate for long. She crooks her finger and wisps of purple magic tug on his uniform until he's standing on the gazebo.

"I apologise profusely, my lady," Silver stammers as her magic fades off of his clothes. "But I'm afraid I cannot stay long, my father requests to see Lord Malleus—"

"Does he!" Meleanor's eyebrows are arched, her expression devious in a way both boys know does not hold good intentions for their respective fathers. "How fortunate, I was hoping to speak to him about Malleus."

"Mother—"

"Lady Meleanor—"

Before either boy could get a word in, magic begins to swirl around the princess's fingers and she chants, "Come, my eyes and ears, my wings and feet."

Magic swirls and shimmers around her. Beneath her feet, her shadow ripples, and a raven bursts out of it with a frantic caw.

"Now why are you in such a hurry?" Meleanor tuts, easily catching the bird out of the air before it could fly off. The bird squawks and flaps its one wing that hadn't managed to be caught in her hand. She directs a firm gaze on it and it freezes, letting a pathetic noise out of its beak. Malleus winces in sympathy.

"Where is my Right?" Meleanor looks down at her shadow, displeased, but quickly smiles again when she turns to Silver. "Give me a hand, dear."

With them pointing downwards, Meleanor pinches together the thumb and forefinger of her free hand. She makes a pulling motion and a squealing bat emerges out of Silver's shadow. It manages to escape the princess's grasp on it but only briefly before she catches it by its legs.

The bat squeaks and screams, no doubt profanities blasphemous when directed at the crown princess, but she is unfazed. Silver looks down at the poor creature apologetically as it clings to his uniform in an attempt to shake off the dragoness's claws.

"What is the matter with you? Stop behaving so childishly. Look, your son is being much more mature than you, how embarrassing." Meleanor forces the bat to let go of the boy and holds it upside down, continuing to be unfazed as it claws at her lace gloves angrily. "You should know better than to ignore a summons from your mistress."

She shakes the bat in a not-so-gentle manner and the animal grows in size and changes shape until Lilia is hanging by the ankles. The raven does the same, but Meleanor lets Levan go so he can perch on her arm more comfortably.

"—the matter with you! You absolutely insane princess!" Lilia yells once he's finally taken his two-legged form again.

"Yes, you're very adorable, dear," Meleanor says dismissively with a pinch to his nose. Lilia hisses at her, but despite his complaints there's no real heat to them and he calms down quickly. "Now, my loves, when were the two of you going to tell me that a secret someone has caught our Malleus's interest?"

"I sincerely apologise, darling," Levan says mournfully, and any amount of aggression in his wife's expression fades away when he pecks a kiss on her cheek. "but it was not our secret to tell."

"Alright, I suppose I can forgive that. I'm sorry, dears." Meleanor looks at her son and husband fondly but scowls when she turns to Lilia. "Not you."

Lilia sticks his tongue out at her without remorse. With difficulty, he twists around to address Silver. "You've found Malleus! Well done, my boy."

"Thank… you, Father."

"What is it that you wished to speak to me about?" Malleus asks, tilting his head in an effort to meet Lilia's eyes. The bat fae exchanges a look with the prince's father and then glances at the princess holding him captive.

"Perhaps we should wait until later—"

"Wonderful, since I wished to speak to both of you about a different matter." Meleanor's expression turns into a deceptively sweet one that immediately has Lilia's face souring. "My loves, would you tell Malleus that you also desperately wish to meet this secret potential mate of his?"

She flutters her eyelashes for good measure. Malleus sighs and shakes his head.

"Mother…"

"I know what you said, but perhaps with encouragement from all three of us we can twist a few rules…"

"Actually, my love, what we wish to discuss concerns this… person." Meleanor raises an inquisitive eyebrow at her husband sitting on her arm.

"What?" All eyes turn to Malleus. The prince suddenly rises from his seat, pupils thinned to slits. Leftover rose petals scatter to his feet. "Has something happened to them?"

"I apologise, Malleus, but Lilia is right." Levan casts a quick look towards Meleanor and Malleus understands immediately.

Meleanor looks frustratedly between her son and husband, unhappy at being the only one uninformed. "Now what is this about? Why are you so reluctant to speak of this person within my presence?"

Lilia purses his lips, determined to not say a thing, meanwhile Levan looks towards his son again meaningfully.

Malleus takes a breath.

"It is what I have been meaning to tell you. Mother…" Malleus glances at Silver standing to the side, at attention. "Silver is a human."

Meleanor blinks. She looks at Silver, back at Malleus, and then bursts into laughter.

"But of course he is, silly beast!"

Malleus attempts to continue, but she doesn't stop laughing like it's the most hilarious joke she's heard in a century. He looks to his father helplessly. Levan gives him an encouraging smile but the doubt that twitches the edges of his lips isn't very reassuring. Meanwhile, Lilia sighs exasperatedly and Silver frowns in confusion.

"Well, Mother…" Meleanor keeps laughing and the longer the seconds tick by the more his confidence falters. Perhaps… If he says it now, she won't hear and she can remain in ignorant bliss. "This person I am in love with is a human as well."

The laughter stops so abruptly that the deadly silence sounds as loud as a crash of thunder.

"What."

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleyuu #meleanor draconia #levan draconia #lilia vanrouge #silver vanrouge #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #malleus draconia x you #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x mc

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physicalturian · 1 year

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The Liar in Love - Tartaglia X F!Reader

[She/Her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] [AFAB!Reader] [No spoiler of any plot]

Words : 11.6K

Summary : You are an actress of the night, an adventurer, a shadow that acts without anyone noticing. And behind the scenes, the passionate rival of the 11th Fatui Harbinger: codename Childe. This game you both play to see who would bend first is the only way you believe you can have each other for a few fleeting moments, even if you are both craving for much more.

So when a fragrant letter arrives with an invitation to a ball in the freezing territory of Snezhnaya, you instantly know your place for the night.

9 in the evening – The hunt begins.

Inspired by : Link 1 - Link 2 - Link 3 - Link 4

Tags : Confessions / Fluff + Smut / Power Play / Power Dynamics / Exhibitionism / Voyeurism / Enemies to Friends to Lovers / Rivals with Benefits / Unprotected Sex / Vaginal Sex / Mask Kink / Fingerfucking / Predator/Prey / Cunnilingus

Mainly posting on AO3

---

Could pettiness be a good fuel for anyone in whatever endeavor they had?

In whatever they wished to pursue?

You wondered…

Many would say no. Many would argue that pettiness would not get you anything but hardship and misery. To which you would tell them: they were wrong. It was as simple as that.

Pettiness had gotten you to many places, it had even gotten you to the freezing territory of Snezhnaya. Being petty had you traveling and it was a wonderful thing, you thought. If some knew your deeper thoughts, they would perhaps even argue that pettiness had not exactly been your fuel, but you found it much more powerful to qualify your going to Snezhnaya as petty rather than justify it by the real reason for it.

“What’s on your mind?” You heard the blonde girl by your side ask gently. Lumine had always been kind, perhaps to a fault. No matter what people asked of her, she would help them in exchange for information on her brother—but most of the time, that information would be closer to unhelpful rather than not. Had it been you, you would not have helped all those people, for what they asked of her would often be much more demanding than the reward at hand.

Giving her a side glance, you smirked, “I’m thinking that I should come to Snezhnaya much more often, the weather is enjoyable and you know I’m rather fond of sliding down–”

She interrupted you with a roll of her eyes, and a small smile, “Thank you for coming with me. The journey is exhausting, but your company makes it easier to forget it’s freezing here.” She turned her head to where Paimon was sleeping in her backpack and smiled sweetly, “As long as she’s not cold, I could probably brave whatever is to come.” She commented more to herself rather than to you.

It was interesting to see the dynamic between the two of them; sometimes, Paimon reminded you of a pet rather than… whatever she was. You never really knew what she was and it was slightly off-putting, but as long as she didn’t bite, you would be fine. “Who am I to refuse an invitation to a ball, my dearest Lumine?” You said teasingly.

You had known all along of the happening of the ball—who was organizing it, and what the outcome of it would be, but you also knew Lumine was going. You could not just go there and accidentally meet her, then have to justify your reason for being there. So you’d played innocent and asked her if she would like company on her journey there.

She had accepted at such a speed you had been caught off guard and started preparing everything.

And here you were. “Remind me again of your plan once we get there?” You asked innocently. You remembered every step of her instructions, adding your own mentally, but you couldn’t come clear about your own intentions. Instead, you played the card of being here for her, all too aware that once you’d reached your destination, you would part ways.

Much to her displease, you would not stick with her until the end—you couldn’t.

She was there to go after many people, to probably violently get information out of some or even something… harsher. But among them was the one who had invited you, for his own entertainment. You would be a liar and a cheat if you said you did not like the way the letter smelled from the fragrance mixed with the ink—but your enjoyment did not stop at the smell, it came from those beautiful and teasing words he had written on that thick piece of paper now folded in your traveling bag.

My beautiful actress,

Rumors spread rather fast in the midst of such a big organization as the one I am ranked in, you must have heard of the upcoming event that is being organized.

While it should be reserved for our members only, we are more than aware of the rotten eggs in our basket and of the unwelcome visitors we will receive.

To this extent, and in seek of entertainment and thrill, we have decided to announce the event as a masked ball.

Should it not be evident to your intellect, you will be coming with a mask that makes your features indiscernible.

Only then will our little game start, my dearest. Considering the traveler will visit, perhaps with friends that will later join on their own, I would propose we have our own program for the evening. It should go as follows:

9 in the evening – Your arrival, the hunt begins.

11 in the evening, on the condition that none of us has caught the other, making them cave in the process – Rendezvous at the library.

2 in the morn – My quarters, only if the ball has come to an end, of course.

Should the festivities have yet to come to a halt, it would be my honor to see your disheveled form waltzing in my arms.

Tasteful amuse-bouches will be at our guests’ disposal for the evening, although my palate craves something much more delicate than such displays of wealth and abundance.

P.S. Mind not your name, we are rather keen on anonymity, are we not? In addition, I find the name suits you like a glove, considering it is all but play pretend.

Expectantly yours,

Your adversary,

“Well, Diluc still is in contact with some people that work behind the scenes to try to dismantle the Fatui, one of them heard that there was this masked ball, so…” She pondered out loud, “I thought we would get in, pretend to the best of our abilities and try to gather some information.” She nodded to herself, trying to remember what else she had in mind before continuing.

“I know someone. He might be able to help us, but I don’t think we can fully trust him in this setting.” She seemed to be in deep thought, weighing the pros and cons of asking this person for help. With a sharp shake of her head, she looked ahead and huffed with determination, “No, we’ll gather the information ourselves. We also need to find out if they are the ones holding my friend captive–” As if she had said something she shouldn’t have, she waved her hand in front of herself and chuckled. “But we will think about it once we’re there, won’t we?”

That sweet smile returned.

Even though everyone did her wrong, unable to help, she kept on giving her time, her patience, her compassion to them. Most probably forgot what she was looking for, because most wouldn’t care once she had helped them. While you were not as close to her as some others might have been, you still paid attention around you wherever you went, in case anyone would let out some information regarding her brother.

“I am sure they have other things to do than torturing your friend, you know… there are some festivities that need to be prepared.” You said lightly, not believing a word you had said. Many of the Harbingers found some satisfaction in torturing well-informed people; you were more than convinced they would skip whatever they had planned for such an opportunity.

Lumine nodded, “I’m not even sure he’s there, I just need to make sure of that.”

“Well, what is certain is that you are not going to relax tonight.”

She raised a brow and squinted her eyes slightly, “Neither are you, as beautiful as this ball will be, we are going there with a purpose.”

“Of course, of course. No time off—although, if I get caught, leave me to die and run, Lumine!” You said dramatically, the back of your hand to your forehead. When she laughed, you knew you had convinced her, you knew she believed you would help her. No ulterior motives.

The blonde woman’s eyes widened at the sight ahead, “There’s the inn! Finally, we can rest for a few hours before getting dressed and slipping among the crowd. I would assume it should start–”

“Around 8. As any good ball should, I am convinced the Fatui must have prepared a whole banquet.” You told her. While your adversary’s letter predicted your arrival at around 9 in the evening, you thought it smarter to arrive earlier. Not only would it give you the advantage of catching him off guard, but you also believed he could be trying to fool you. Your goal was to blend into the sea of people that would be waiting to enter the palace; should they have been told to arrive earlier, he would have the advantage of seeing you as the only fool to arrive at 9 in the evening.

Deep in thought once more while you walked, Lumine pondered, “I think I should go earlier, to mark any escape routes, see if there are many people guarding.”

She couldn’t catch her breath and resting seemed something she could not do either. If she wished to leave earlier, you would not fight her about it. You both knew what the other’s mask looked like, meaning you’d be able to find each other easily. So you nodded, “You do what you please, Lumine, but do consider resting at some point. I’ll be leaving the inn around 8 considering the palace is not too far.”

“You’ll be late, then?” She said, gasping.

“Fashionably so, yes. I do not want to be seen as too enthusiastic, nor too disrespectful… a quarter past eight seems like the perfect time.”

From there on, you parted ways after Lumine dropped her bag—without Paimon in it—in your shared room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and excitement. Energy would be more than required for the evening ahead of you so you decided to nap until the sunset, which did not take long to settle in Snezhnaya.

It was almost as if in the blink of an eye, it was already time to get dressed for the event.

To dress to impress was a requirement. While criminals, the Fatui were still a political organization, full of money and they talked. You couldn’t help but want to hear rumors about yourself, the woman in the fox mask. You felt out of your mind enough tonight to attach a delusion you had recovered in a fight around your neck. It was a risk—not only for you on your personal account, considering the humming of the item on your chest, but for your life. If people out there realized you were an outsider, they would consider you armed and ready for an assault.

“And wouldn’t that be thrilling?” You told your reflection as you patted down your dress before smiling at how gorgeous you looked in it. It suited your body and enhanced it in all the right ways, you were ready to bet people would look and you would welcome them with open arms—although only one gaze mattered, only one.

Giving yourself a last once over, you put on your mask and tied it behind your head steadily; you shook your head to make sure it did not fall and upon trial, it remained on. You were fully set for the evening, now all that was left was to make your way to the palace.

You would admit, the weather was not suitable for dresses—no amount of layers could have you sweating with the cold outside, but you pushed through. With all the people walking the direction you were going, you did not seem out of place, that is if you did not consider the looks of awe upon their notice of your attire. After all, you had dressed for the occasion, but it was mostly to get him to look at you. Part of you wanted to have him bend first, see how long it would last. How long before he would simply drag you away, inevitably losing at his own game.

As you approached the crowd at the stairs of the palace, people were already stepping inside—some greeting each other, others simply taking in the sight. You were part of the latter group, being all too fascinated by the architecture and the lights that shone in the air and on the walls. It was as beautiful as a winter night with a stainless sky; white, glimmering stars shining bright but not as scintillating as the guiding polar star.

“Is it the Lady’s first time in the palace?” A gruff voice whispered by your ear as a hand settled on your lower back, steering you out of the way. You straightened yourself, as if your corset was not tight enough to have you standing with poise. With a delicate turn of your head, you looked at the man that bore only half a mask on his face to hide his eyes and nose. It had golden branches shaped like wings from under the eyes to the sides; perhaps the audacity to show part of one’s face along with the expensive mask revealed his wealth. “I must say, I have rarely seen it lit as such. For the few times I was summoned here, it has never been as grand as it is today.”

“Then I must give you a tour of the place, perhaps while crossing the dance floor—it would be my honor to show you.”

You saw the smile on his face and pried, “The place… to show me around the palace, I am sure that is what you meant.” You stated, all too coy for your taste but as you did so, your eyes waltzed around the room, unlike your rigid body.

The man let out a laugh, a rather foul one if you dared think.

“Being a prude can only last for so long.” He held out his hand and tilted his head. Before he could speak again, you placed your hand within his with a fake, yet believable soft chuckle. “It would be an honor,” you paused, giving him time to tell you his name, or anything you could call him by.

“Anatoly. What should I call you?” He said as you allowed him to place his hand on your hips while the other held your free one. Dipping your head forward lightly in a show of humility, you huffed a laugh, “For tonight, I will respond to Vittoria—you see, I am in a playful mood, but I do strive for success…”

“Oh, Victory, should I have had a say in your name choice this evening, I would have chosen…” As he pondered, he dragged you on the dance floor mindlessly—the man was quite skilled, but it was no surprise. One wrong move and it would be humiliating for him, high society was unforgiving on that matter. While glancing around, completely ignoring the beautiful melody that played, your eyes focused on a form that could only belong to him.

You were not quite sure from the attire that adorned his figure, but your intuition could not be wrong. Different settings meant different challenges; if you had seen him in Liyue in a light gray suit, and he had tried to blend in somewhat in Inazuma—this, Snezhnaya, was his battlefield. He had the upper hand.

Your eyes could not tear from the form that walked down the stairs with another man at his side while they talked.

He, whom you believed to be your rival, was dressed in a black suit that had fine red detailing. If you could squint your eyes more than you’d already done, you could perhaps see some glimpses of gold. Around his neck was a fine red scarf, and draped over his shoulders rested a black cape with a mix of dark and light brown fur. Ginger flamboyant hair with a beautiful golden sad mask, with holes for the eyes and a mouth like in theaters.

Your observation was interrupted as Anatoly brought you close to him again, “Or perhaps, Trappola?” Trap. Did he find out who you were? “Scarnecchia…” Sneaking around. The man was more learned than you had given him credit for, so instead of panicking, you laughed coyly once more.

“Those are rather heavy on the tongue, wouldn’t you agree?” You smile behind your mask.

In a few swift moves, he had led you to the side of the room where a dark corridor was lit by the moon—you were far from everyone, and this man was not going to ruin your little game. As soon as he pressed you to the wall, a hand to your mouth, you bit him hard and got out a knife from under your dress. You pulled his long coat to cover your forms and stabbed him in the throat. Just like that, the man was left bleeding out on the floor.

You waited a few minutes to make sure he was out then wiped the blade on his attire before stepping away from the growing pool of blood. Looking down at him, you frowned, “My apologies, I did not believe I would be found out so easily.” You then stepped back inside the ballroom where the festivities had remained the same, not one thing was out of order—if one was unaware of the dead body not too far, that was.

Holding your hands to your front on your lower stomach, you walked around the ballroom trying to find him. It was rather challenging to greet everyone and compliment dresses and masks all while looking for him. You hadn’t wanted to get him out of your sight, but Anatoly had to go too far, you had to take care of him—ultimately, it was for the greater good of this beautiful foreplay.

You felt as if you had gone about the ballroom for more than an hour, participating in small, but all the while interesting conversations. Many complimented your mask, and you told them all that you went by the name of Vittoria. The lover. Although the title remained in your mind, you were not about to proclaim anything to these aristocrats.

In the midst of a passionate discussion about one’s aesthetic choices, you caught him walking by once more. This time, you kept talking and made sure to laugh slightly more boisterously than you had done up until then. “And to believe someone let her go out like this! You see, this is why you need honest servants by your side.” The woman that dressed all too eccentrically for your taste said while nudging you, she was fanning her face even in the very depths of Snezhnaya, you were in awe. She was in the wrong for adding soon after that her servants were trustworthy, loyal, and adored her. You knew for a fact the latter was a fallacy from the way she was dressed. Nothing was handed-down, of course not—far from any of these people to wear clothes they have already worn. But you knew the small people and how easily they could convince the rich of new fashions.

All it would take was a gasp at some fabrics, erratic suggestions and compliments, then voila! You’d have a new garment in the making.

You laughed, nodding gracefully, “How lucky of you, they truly worked wonders. Is that a unique piece?” You asked, giving a once over to the bright, rather distasteful outfit she wore.

Excitedly, she smiled—as you could see from the half-mask she wore, “It is indeed! I absolutely adore this dress.”

To your surprise, someone joined the conversation and your breath hitched, “It suits you wonderfully, Irina Nikolaevna.”

Her face would have flushed anew had it not already been burning red through her thick face powder from the tightness of her corset and the many drinks she’d had. She fanned her hand in front of her in false shyness, “Oh, you flatter me, young man—let us pretend you do not know who I am! I thought my disguise was going to trick everyone.”

The man by your side chuckled, “It probably has, but I would recognize your beauty anywhere.” You were no fool, and you would know that voice among thousands.

You knew he was teasing you in the process, testing you even. But you felt your chest burn up slightly as he flirted, with no intention for it to avail, with the older woman in front of you.

His head then tilted down at you, “It seems you have been slipping through my fingers, little mouse.” He told you playfully.

The woman laughed, “She is no mouse! She is a fox, a hunting beast, nothing as slender and as gentle as a mouse—you see, in my youth, I was so dainty that–”

She was pulled back by an older man telling her something, her husband. You were quite grateful he had interrupted this little discussion of yours, you were in no mood to be talked down to.

Once she had fully turned around, an arm slid around your waist and pulled you close as a gloved, slender hand held yours up, leading you further from the circle of people. “Correct me if I’m wrong—I could have sworn I saw someone wearing this very mask earlier tonight, and yet it was much earlier than nine in the evening.” The lightness in his voice hinted at the smile he wore underneath that mask, you looked to the side and replied, “How curious indeed, some would find it smarter to arrive earlier than the agreed-upon time.” You then faced him, “Why should one make it easier to be found out, pray tell, Tartaglia?”

“Now, let’s not use that title here.” He whispered to your ear once he had your chest pressed against his. You had to hold back from wrapping both of your arms around him—you could not lose.

“Would it be surprising to these people that the Harbingers are present at a Fatui ball?” You asked sardonically. It made him laugh, your cheeks warming up at the sound while you caressed his hand with your thumb, absentmindedly waltzing without looking at anyone but him.

With his head pressed to yours, he said in a hushed tone, “Playing pretend is much more interesting to them, it has to do with wanting to be the center of attention. They hardly wish to be reminded there are greater people around them.” His hand slowly slid higher to the middle of your back as he played with the fabric, “But enough about aristocrats.”

You hummed, grabbing his hand to pull it away from you playfully, “Could it be you had something in mind? Should I take this initiative of yours as you yield–”

“Childe!” You heard Lumine speak.

In a matter of seconds, you parted ways with him and disappeared into the crowd. Your fun had just started, the real game had just begun and it had to be ruined by your adventurous friend. If she was going to keep him busy with her questioning, you were going to attempt to distract him and have him running back to you.

Looking over your shoulder, you threw him a glance—without even seeing each other’s faces, he knew you were going to do something you would regret and you knew he was seething as you stepped in front of a young aristocrat that looked decent enough. The mask made it so you could not get disgusted by his features, which was a good addition as you paraded around like a bird to have him ask you for a dance. It worked wonders when the man held out his hand to you.

Childe was watching the scene, barely listening to Lumine as he observed how you curtsied to the stranger and let his hand rest where his had been moments ago. To be interrupted in the midst of his fun had him frustrated, but he looked back at the blonde woman who had barely done anything to blend in and smiled as he would often do, “I have no idea who that Childe is, but if you’re looking for a kid, it should be at a home with a nanny.”

Lumine hit him, “Stop messing around, I know it’s you and you know it’s me, I just need intel on–”

Leaning over, the man laughed into the young woman’s ear, “See, I will be kind enough tonight. I will ignore that you outright exposed yourself—because I’m under the obligation of reporting any unwelcome visitors to the Captain.” He leaned back and tilted his head to the side, “The music is rather loud, I didn’t hear you right!” The smile behind his mask was one of pride, utter satisfaction at how her face turned sour, which he could see from the dark-coloured half-mask she wore. “You are back from a long mission—you traveled a lot, is that right? You couldn’t be the traveler, correct?”

Her mouth was now flat in a line, her brows furrowed, “I will be taking my leave. Have a beautiful evening, sir.” With that, she followed her own words and slithered away from him and among the occupants on the dance floor.

When Tartaglia finally turned back to where you had stood, you were gone.

You saw how he frantically looked around the room as you made sure to waltz away with the man from earlier, enjoying this hunt much more now that he was frustrated. Ignoring the few slides of the hand of your dance partner that you had to bring back to your waist, the dancing in itself was not as bad as you had expected.

You hadn’t realized he had been calling you, clearly not used to answering to the name you had chosen for tonight—but you quickly looked back at him and smiled behind your mask. The action in itself seemed foolish considering he could not see it, but it did not matter. “Yes?”

“Has something caught your attention? I do not wish to keep you here if your heart belongs–”

Shaking your head, you huffed a laugh, noticing Childe’s gaze back on yours, “Would you mind spinning me? I find it most entertaining to feel the lightness of a fine twirl, it makes me feel–” You let out a forced giggle when he twirled you once, twice, thrice then brought you close to him, finishing your sentence himself with his forehead against yours, “Beautiful.”

It was hard to hold back the sick feeling you had upon being this close to this man, but you played your role and tiled your head back, chuckling some more, “I’m slightly dizzy, I will fetch myself a drink. Do you need anything?”

He shook his head, “Nonsense! What does a woman of fine taste like yourself wish to satiate her thirst?”

Bringing a hand to your mouth, you chuckled, your face blank behind the mask, “You are very sweet, surprise me. I am rather fond of surprises.”

The man nodded and scurried off.

It did not take a minute to feel his hand back on your waist, his head pressed to the side of yours while you both looked around the room. The music was starting to pick up the pace, your step that had almost come to a halt was now faster, “To dance with a stranger is one thing,” His fingers dug slightly in your side, making you huff a silent laugh of excitement. Your hand tightened on his shoulder, but you did not respond right away. “To choose him over a Harbinger is another. Some would consider it an affront, should they care about things like these.” His voice was light, but so close to your ear that a bubble of intimacy had been built around both of you.

As if it was just the two of you.

“So, perhaps to get my pride back, I should show you which is the better choice between us.” People paraded around you so fast you could not catch their faces as everyone crossed the dance floor in rhythm, “Don’t tell me you were so easily toyed with, Taru.” You whispered to his ear, catching the strangled, indignant sound in his throat.

His eyes sought yours through your mask and met them with determination, “Be careful, we do not know each other, remember?”

You couldn’t help but grin, “Ah yes, the same way you did not know our blonde friend. I will admit, I enjoyed seeing you impatient like that.” You mocked, your hand sliding on his shoulder to touch the collar of his cape. You had never seen him dressed quite like this, but the first thing your body needed was to be fucked on that very cape that he wore with such pride and duty. You wanted to know it had been stained by both of your desperate needs to be together. You wanted the world to see but not understand that this very item of clothing bore the mark of a passionate love that burst like wildfire when you were in the same room.

Such a passion could not be contained, but attempting to tame it made it all the more fun for both of you.

“You blend rather well within high society, my lady. Should I doubt it’s an act and start believing you are very fond of scandal?” He asked teasingly, calming the pace of both your steps as the music melted to a new one, much calmer this time.

“I hear you, I truly do, but I am much fonder of that voice in my head that is screaming for us to be at the center of that scandal.” You said sweetly, albeit the words uttered were anything but.

It was the first time in your very long dance that his step faltered. You made sure to hold onto him as he caught both of you—hiding his misstep by tilting you backward, “Be careful what you wish for, it sounds like you are quite literally falling for me.” He whispered against your mask. You heard the low hum of people gasping at the gesture he had made—all but good things.

When he brought you back up, he held you close with his face against the side of yours once more, “But here is your chance, sly fox. All eyes are on you, what is your next move?”

You were not as fond of their gaze on you as you thought. You had been an actress of the night, a shadow that acted without anyone noticing—because most watched the light without realizing it birthed darkness.

With your lack of response, he asked again, “The people are waiting on our next move, what should we do?”

“Turn me, make them swoon.” You scoffed, blaming your request on the people, but it was you who wanted it. You wanted to stay longer in his arms, maybe even for the crowd to feel there was something between the two of you.

As he did your bidding, you watched the world spin, faces passing by rapidly over and over again before everything stopped and you could only see his mask looking down at you. Your eyes still trying to stabilize, you chuckled upon hearing their cheers, “I suppose my attire is well suited for twirls, it’s rather–”

“Of course, far from you the idea of them enjoying your grace rather than your dress.” He said with a roll of his eyes, mocking you.

Squeezing his shoulder tight, you felt your chest warm up but roughly said, “It played a big part, and… and–” You caught yourself losing your words, finding your throat constricted in embarrassment at his compliment. Clearing your throat, you quickly covered, “I meant to say that you are very handsome tonight, it would also bring their attention–”

“I can’t hear much of what you’re saying, I’m still stuck on your little mishap.” He was grinning behind that foolish mask of his, you could hear it. You wanted to defend yourself, but found it would only push your embarrassment further in. He took it as an opportunity to speak up, “Will you excuse us, the lady is rather exhausted from the dancing. We shall retreat for a bit.” He told everyone.

If you thought you would be discreet tonight, he had other plans. It was odd considering no one knew of anything you had going on, not even Lumine.

With a polite move, Tartaglia offered his arm towards you for you to take and you did, holding onto it as you walked to the side of the dance floor. Thinking you would stop by a waiter for a drink, you were about to call one of them over when he stirred you away, still walking.

You were led to a different corridor than earlier this evening. When you could barely hear the music and buzzing of the people, he stopped and opened a door to a room that you soon discovered was a library, “You would excuse this choice of room, let us say someone left a rather displeasing package in the sleeping quarters' corridor.” He said, fully aware of what had happened. You stood in front of him as he leaned against one of the tables, a silence settling slowly.

“Are you admitting your loss yet?” You finally said with your arms crossed over your chest, cockiness dripping from your words.

He gestured with his head towards you, “Take off your mask.”

You huffed a laugh and reached for the knot behind your head, grabbing the loose mask as it came undone, “Are you really that desperate to see my pretty face?” You asked, looking back at him with warm cheeks from how he now stood right in front of you instead of further off by the table. His fingers delicately lifted your chin as his controlled breath could be heard behind his mask, “Look at me—there we go…” He trailed off when you did exactly that, a smirk behind that mask.

He tilted his head to the side mockingly and said, “Are you telling me all I needed to have your guard crumble was flattery?”

Your face lit up in indignation, “I have no idea what you’re saying, but it’s complete nonsense.”

“Then tell me you could go back out there and continue our little game.” He stated, his voice all the more serious even if the words were being spoken with a smile. Because he knew you; you had been playing this game for so long, he knew when you were over. As your eyes darted to the side, he chuckled, turning your face to meet your gaze once more, “Tell me you could play the fool ‘til the bell rings eleven.” His thumb brushed against your lower lip as he pulled at it gently, before mimicking a higher tone of voice in the same slow, almost whispered pattern as he mocked you, “I could never, Taru, my body’s been craving yours ever since you touched me—nay, ever since I watched you walk down the stairs with Pantalone–”

You slapped his hand off and glared at him, “I would never speak like that.”

His voice stern, he asked, “Do you yield?”

Taken aback, your eyes widened but you remained barely a step away from him.

“I do not wish to yield.” You stated, foolishly determined and prideful.

He smiled behind his mask, but you could only see his dead eyes staring at you. “We cannot have you spoiled, thinking you can always obtain what you desire, my little fox, now can we?” His hands suddenly gripped your hips as he pressed you against one of the bookcases, a few tomes falling in the process. Your breath hitched in your throat and he did not miss it, he pounced on it like a weakness begging to be exploited, “There, am I breathtaking?” He cooed.

Your eyes looked all over his mask to find out where it was attached. You wanted to take it off and take in his beauty, but you were starting to grow fond of having him hold the upper hand like this, “Take off your mask, then I’ll tell you.” You smirked, reaching for his head only to have him grip your wrist tightly as he tutted you beratingly, tossing your hand aside to let it drop at your side.

“You’re acting tough, but I wrote the script, I know the asides.” With his face now close to your ear, he smirked and said, “I know what your mind is made of.”

“Then tell me, if you are so versed in my person.” You only now noticed the little bit of skin that was exposed under his collar. You were tempted to pull down his cape and push him to the floor, but something told you it would happen sooner or later, so you whispered back, “If you make good assumptions, I might consider yielding—and if you are wrong, you admit defeat.”

Childe laughed, making your body long for that sound to escape his lips again, “What assures me you will be truthful and admit I’m right?”

You met his gaze and smirked playfully, “Well, don’t you trust me, Tartaglia? I would never dare lie to the eleventh Harbinger, the consequences that would follow…” You teased, tugging at the scarf around his neck and letting it drop on the floor. You heard the annoyed sigh that escaped his lips but he did not do anything. Instead, he tilted your chin up and hummed a moment, “I believe the script went as such…”

He brushed your lips once more with his thumb and in the most seductive tone you had heard from the man, he spoke, “The woman stands against the bookshelf. She is frowning, but she is not mad. She likes the man that plays with her, but he should not know. She is arrogant. Her actions are not thought through, she is erratic.” He enjoyed the look on your face as he read you like an open book. He loved this game you both played not only for that very expression your face bore, but also for the satisfaction of putting all of it out there.

“The man wants her, but is stronger–”

You were going to interrupt him when he continued, “He’s cornered her. He enjoys observing her face after the humiliation of being seen.” Your heartbeat picked up, you could not look away as his gloved hand caressed your hair. You almost leaned into his touch, but held back. You had to keep the little restraint you had left.

“They both know the outcome of this. But none speak of it. One move is needed to reach what they both desire.” He then paused and looked down at your dress before letting one of his fingers hook onto your neckline. “Now, I had a hard time finishing this play… where do you think the script should go? Happy endings are rather nice, but I love letting my muse be free and explore any opportunities.” He leaned back and stood in front of you with an all too confident demeanor, a demeanor that you were keen on, a demeanor that was your weakness. Seeing him retaining his composure.. should someone have walked by, they would have believed you were only being told off, it was so interesting to see.

“So tell me, what will the woman do?” He inquired in a light tone.

You looked him up and down, taking in the sight of his kept attire and hair—finding it all the more attractive that he could contain himself even now. You needed him to touch you, to feel you over and over, until everyone but you was asleep. Until all that remained was both of you in the company of the moon.

As you were about to speak, he raised a finger, “I am a visual learner, little fox.” He mocked.

Clenching your jaw, you lifted your skirts and took off your heels before kneeling on the floor. Unable to look him in the eyes, you said in a mocking sing-song voice, “I yield.”

The deafening sound of his footsteps echoed as he approached you, the tip of his shoes against your knees, “My apologies, I could not hear you over the sound of your pride shattering.” He gripped your chin forcefully and made you look up, your face heating up in seconds as you pushed through the constriction in your throat from the embarrassment.

“How hard can it be, is this not how it ends every time? Hm?” He cooed, splaying his hand on your cheek, caressing it softly, “If you think about it, we both win. You gain the freedom of submitting to me, I gain the power of having you for another night.” He breathed out a soft chuckle, then trailed his hand down to your neck, wrapping his hand tenderly around it as his voice lowered, “So, let me hear you say it one more time.”

“I yield, Taru. You have won for tonight.”

Helping you to your feet with his hand still around your neck, you followed his guidance while he spoke, “And every night prior,” He guided you to a couch that had many blankets laid upon it already, “And the nights to come, I’m sure…” He turned you around roughly and undid your overdress before letting it drop on the floor. Untying the knot of your corset, he then started unlacing it as he continued, “And isn’t that the best way to enjoy it?” Each tug had you closer and closer to being able to breathe again until it was loose enough to slide above your head and be tossed aside. Childe then lowered his head to your shoulder and lifted his mask enough to kiss the exposed skin, “Look at the snow outside, isn’t it a beautiful sight to be fucked to?” He breathed as he pulled his mask back on and turned you around.

“Why keep the mask on? Would it be so bad to be caught with me?” You asked half-jokingly, half-hurt as your hands reached for the button of his cape. Taking the item off his shoulders, you tossed it on the couch behind you, “Or is it a question of power? I hope you are not embarrassed, I can assure you, I have seen you plenty of times panting and moaning my name like the desperate little boy that you are–”

One hand covered your mouth while the other helped the mask off his head, tossing it by your discarded clothes. “Yielding is submitting, what gave you the impression you could speak to me like this?” He smirked, eyes stern but the spark in them showed how entertained he was by the banter. Pushing him even more, you leaned against him and removed his hand from your mouth, “The tightness in your pants—or the growing smile on your face, even.” You stated.

He hummed and gripped your waist, pressing you harder against him as he pushed you to the couch, “The script says the woman will let him do as he pleases, and what he pleases is–”

“Taru, I love the analogy, but this is getting out of hand.” You chuckled.

Laughing, he kissed you without missing a beat. Both your hands cradled his face as you deepened the kiss, moaning into it, trying the best you could to have him closer but this was all you could have. You could not fuse, you could only enjoy one another’s touch.

“Do you believe I could have you scream loud enough for your voice to carry to the ballroom?” He asked teasingly and out of breath.

With your makeup slightly ruined, you pondered theatrically, making him chuckle, “I am convinced you will try, but sometimes you have to accept defeat. If you wanted people to hear us, you should have invited them.” You joked, but his face seemed to consider your words for a second. You splayed your hand on his cheek, making him turn to you, “I am being ironic, do not–”

“Did you think I would share my well-earned—my deserved—meal? Let them starve, let them miss out.” He then corrected himself, and pried your hand away, kissing down your chest, “Not that they would know they’re missing out,” another kiss, “They have never tasted you,” and another one, this time after pulling the sleeves of your underdress off your shoulders and exposing your breast, “They’ve never felt you around them.”

He then looked up at you, “And they never will.”

Carefully, you reached for his hair and brushed it back to make him look at you, “You should make sure of that, I tend to forget it after such a long time of not seeing you.” You teased, his eyes widening at the challenge that had been given to him. He immediately took his gloves off, prying your hands away from his head. He held your legs above his shoulders, making you gasp in surprise at the suddenness, “We shall blame your heels, should you not be able to walk straight in the morning.” He teased back, a mischievous smile on his lips.

Just like that, he disappeared under your skirt after getting rid of your underwear—in seconds, his tongue was between your legs, skillfully playing with your clit as his hands kept your legs spread apart.

“Yes—yes of course, the heels, no—ah, no other reason.” You said between small sounds of pleasure that escaped your lips. You felt the rumble of his laugh down your lower stomach as he gently lifted your thighs more to rest them on his shoulders, freeing his hands. You slid up onto the couch slightly, gripping the cushions for support and felt the need to chat—it felt empty without his talkative attitude. “I will let you keep this up only because you seem confident in what you are doing, Tartaglia–” Your calling of his name turned into a moan when you felt him bite your thigh in a way that made you understand you should be keeping your mouth shut.

With your head lolling back, you laughed breathlessly, “What is it?” You teased, “Relying on violence to make yourself—obeyed?” You managed to utter between contained moans. The pressure on your bud disappeared as a new sensation joined the game. You felt his fingers slowly slide inside you as he hummed under your skirt, his warm breath on your wet skin making you shiver. “Now, what violence am I relying on, little fox?” He coed, helping the skirt off his head to look at you with a mocking smile, “Am I hurting you? If so, I should stop–”

Your hands flew to his own that was about to slide out of you; you gripped his wrist tightly and shook your head, your hair already disheveled from pressing back into the couch.

“Mm, I cannot wait to have you begging for me.” He whispered lovingly. His free hand reached for your face as he gently touched your cheek, “I just need a little bit more time to have you crumbling in my hands, alright?” His eyes were now looking at you with adoration—both of you unaware of how deeply he enjoyed your presence, your entire being, both of you ignorant to how much you needed him and wanted to be with him.

This was a game, nothing else. Right?

Chuckling, you grabbed the sides of his face with both hands and leaned to kiss him, tasting yourself in the process, “I am more than capable of having you desperate to have me–”

“What you are capable of does not often align with what you know is good for you,” You let go of him from the little gesture that made you understand what he wanted, then he kissed your still-covered stomach, then your thigh as he went back between your legs, “That’s why we are in this position every… time…” His voice lowered as he did the same.

His eyes met yours one more time, mischievous and knowing, “And Archons know it will be good.”

You quickly tilted your head back to hide how much you enjoyed him like this, how much his promises got you aroused, and how willing you were to let him do as he pleased with your body. He was aware you were comfortable with him, but he was still ignorant of just how far he could go.

As he started thrusting his fingers inside you, you covered your mouth to hide the moans that were threatening to escape.

“It should be somewhere in here–” You heard a deep voice open the door, muttering.

The speed at which you grabbed the cape from under you to throw it on the now skirt-covered form of Childe had you amazed. You tossed the cloth over him and wrapped your legs around his back to get him closer to you and the couch so it wouldn’t seem too odd.

“Your face…” You heard him whisper before feeling his tongue back on your clit.

Panicked, you grabbed his mask that was not too far on the couch and held it to your face—it was fast enough to hide yourself in time as the man walked by.

“Goodness, you scared me.” You gasped in a too-high pitched voice, not only from the pleasure you felt but from needing to act coy around those fools.

The man looked at your cape-covered legs; you immediately caught his attention back by asking, “What could you be doing here while a ball is happening?”

“I could ask you the same, my lady.” He quirked a brow. You were grateful for the mask that covered your face when you clenched your jaw to hold back a loud moan. The man between your legs had fervently resumed his actions and was now curling his fingers inside you while his tongue lapped over your sensitive spot.

“Can a lady not unwind in the midst of a fantastic ball? Those masks are rather dreadful and hard to—ah, breathe with.” You panted in the middle of your sentence, swearing him off in your head.

The man standing in front of you remained there for a moment, his eyes squinting at your mask, “Have we talked this evening? I am sure I would have remembered had I enjoyed a conversation with you… but I must be certain—your mask…” Seems familiar, I am sure of it, you thought.

“Please, no need to waste time on flattery, I am taken.” You stopped talking, gulping down to hold back a groan then started fanning your face with your free hand. “I am convinced my husband—would not appreciate it if he learned,” A longer pause this time, you were smiling knowing it had a certain effect on him from the pause in his ministrations. “If one of his men started acting friendly—towards me.” Immediately taken aback by your words, the man straightened his back and shook his head, his hands in front of him in a sort of defense.

You gestured for him to leave, “I am sure it was an accident, no foolish man would make any advances on one of the Harbingers’ lovers.” You smiled sweetly, but he could not see it. However, you knew his eyes had widened as he turned around and quickly apologized before rushing out of the library.

The moment the door closed, the cape flew out of the way. Childe immediately stood up from between your legs to look down at you with hunger in his eyes as he removed a few layers of his attire. You looked at him with a hooded and proud gaze upon being able to get a rise out of him so easily.

As he undressed, you partially held your breasts while continuing what he’d started by fingering yourself, “What could have gotten you so worked up, Taru?” You pouted mockingly, knowing full well what had done it.

The shortness of breath in his laugh had an effect on you. Your eyes could not be torn from him even if your life depended on it, much less so after seeing him run his tongue over his teeth while taking his shirt off. “Taru. You are unbelievable—do you understand I do not find this funny?” His tone had lost its lightness, which made you wonder why he was still undressing, why he was continuing this game of yours.

He shook his head and told you to turn around. You frowned and stood up, reaching for his face but he grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “For you, it might be a game, little fox. And I would understand if you wanted just that–” He clicked his tongue, “But to openly play with my reputation, mocking me in the process? There are indeed things I do not let slide.”

“I’m sorry? No, there is a misunderstanding, I was not—Taru, can you please look at me?”

His jaw was clenched, his grip on your wrist tightening for a few seconds before he let go and walked past you to sit on the couch, annoyed.

You remained at the same spot he had left you for a moment, thinking of what could have happened to have him react in such a way. Everything was fine until the other man interrupted you. Something in the words you spoke must have ticked him off, so you repeated them in your head over and over, trying to understand where the mockery had settled when the realization came to you.

Your eyes widened as your face warmed up; with an arm covering your chest, you turned around and patted his hair gently before tilting his head back and looking at his hurt face, “Could this be a misunderstanding?”

For a split second, his eyes softened only to harden immediately, pushing your hand away, “Those words–” He started, you pushed his shoulders and straddled his lap with your knees on each side of him, supporting your weight on the couch. “Those words were not mocking, Childe.”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes and opted to trace the freckles on his torso delicately as you continued a bit more shyly, “I will admit, they slipped out of my mouth in the heat of the moment.” You hummed to yourself, “I wanted to see how you would react, I thought you would enjoy hearing them, I wanted you to enjoy.”

He huffed, “So you did this for me? You knew all along that…”

“That I had feelings for you? Yes.” You sighed, about to put your dress back on, until you felt his hands stopping you. Your heart was beating all too fast for your liking, but you continued, “I suppose I–” You paused, “I am truly unsure of what I thought.”

There was a brief silence, “This game we play is what I believed could be the only way for me to have you, even if it is but for a fleeting moment. Even if it is but for a few hours on a fine evening.” You smiled sadly to yourself and ran a hand on your face, attempting to get a hold of yourself. “Do not get me wrong, I enjoyed it thoroughly each and every time—I suppose what I am trying to say is…”

“That you want more?” He asked, his voice barely audible. Looking up, you met his gaze and saw how soft, if not emotional, he had become. All you could do was nod. His hands let go of your dress and instead held your thighs as he drew you closer to him, a growing smile on his lips, “I will admit, my insecurity got a hold of me and I believed you were mocking my own feelings towards you.” He chuckled, his gentle fingers caressing your skin while his head fell slightly, sheepishly. It was a look you had never had the occasion to witness on him, but found it most endearing. Then the meaning of his words dawned on you and all you could do was kiss him, a kiss he returned briefly before you both had to part ways.

Like two young fools in love, all you could do was laugh slightly at first, embarrassed, before it grew into an open laugh, your hands now holding his shoulders. This felt different from all those times you laid in bed together, from all those times you kissed and enjoyed each other’s bodies.

“Then perhaps I should call you my little fox. You see–”

“Or you could call me my love, I could very much get used to using an endearing term rather than Taru.” You said with more confidence now.

With a slight pout, Childe grabbed the back of your legs and hinted for you to lift yourself up, which you did before letting him lower you onto his cock. He smiled in pleasure and so did you at how good it felt, then he spoke, “You are the only one calling me Taru, I have grown fond of it… my…” He seemed to think before fully sheathing himself inside you and breathing out, “Mine.”

You grinned in pleasure and breathed out, “My mine. That sounds pretty endearing, you are right.” You teased, making him groan.

He rolled his eyes and started thrusting inside you to stop you from talking. It worked well enough since you rested your forehead against his and moaned out a proud laugh. He couldn’t get enough of it and hardened his thrusts, to elate more of those sounds from you. “Give it time and I will be fucking you as my wife.”

The gorgeous sound of pleasure escaping his lips, the promise of his words, the feeling of his cock—you let out a whine of pleasure and continued fucking yourself on him. His grin had you even more aroused when he watched you bounce on his lap, disheveled, all but graceful, you were sinful.

As he looked at you, he couldn’t help but bask in your being.

You were what many wanted but few got, what all deserved but even fewer earned, what was promised but so hard to give. You were the love he so desperately craved, yearned—the love he had longed for.

“No rush—I would be more than happy being—ah, your lover in the meantime.” You panted, barely letting out words in pairs as you spoke, unable to focus on talking from the growing pleasure in your lower stomach.

Childe moaned as he kissed your chest, his teeth grazing your now sensitive nipples from his gentle biting, “My lover, my traveling partner, my companion.” He whispered, his voice more and more strained from how close he was getting. The crack in his voice had you weak as your nails dug into his skin. You nodded, mouth open from how heavy you were breathing. You couldn’t form any sort of sentences, your mind too high on the bliss he was bringing you.

“Archons, you are drooling from just my cock, my mine…” He said contently, almost proud to see the embarrassing state he had you in. One hand remained on your clit while he pressed his forehead to yours once again. His free hand wiped off your drool as he pried your mouth wider open with his thumb, “All dazed, my beautiful woman is on a cloud.” He commented teasingly.

You mustered a roll of your eyes and were going to pry his hand off, but instead simply held it there, “I’m close.” You uttered. With his thumb pressing on your tongue, your speech was not clear but he had understood.

He smirked and gently tilted your head back before cooing, “Then lay back and we shall finish this—there we go, Archons, you’re so fucking hot laying on my cape.”

From his lack of movement, you managed to look at him, “Since I noticed you had a cape, I have been wanting to ruin it.”

He laughed, placing himself back between your legs, “Is it not a pretty cape?” he asked in fake offense.

“I simply believe it would look better with both our essences on it.” You doubted those words and they perhaps even died in your throat as he thrust inside you once more. He was panting heavily, his hands gripping your legs in place as he rested them over his shoulders and enjoyed the sight of your hands desperately gripping the couch, your mouth, the couch, your mouth—you did not know if you wanted to deafen your loud sounds of pleasure or if you needed to hold onto something, anything, for balance.

“Fuck, you look stunning like this, I want to make you cum but—ah, I need to hear the magic words!”

A hand flew to his hair, your fingers threading through it, “Please, please Taru, I need to come, I’m so close, so close, so…” You were repeating it over and over as you felt his pace speeding up, one hand joining back on your clit. He felt your walls tighten around him as your back arched and your hand clawed at the couch. Loud, throaty moans flooded from your lips, some deeper, some higher, he didn’t care. He was seeing you raw, vulnerable, weak, he loved it. He loved you, he truly did.

The light of the moon was illuminating your sweaty bodies and he thought for a second that there hadn’t been a better sight than this one until your eyes opened and met his—one last whine ripped from your throat as you came around his cock. The view had him finding release seconds after you, his thrusts slowing while his fingers held onto your thighs for dear life.

Once you had both been able to catch your breaths, he pulled out and took one of the blankets from the couch before draping it over the both of you as he lay next to you.

“The ball is still going on.” You whispered, your hand finding his chest to be the most interesting thing right now, more precisely his freckles. Grinning, he tilted your head to look at him, “Meaning you wish to go dancing?”

You smiled sweetly, “Well, according to the program I received from–”

“From me, it says that if we are still physically well enough–”

“I am more than physically well, I…” You raised your hand high, laughing through your nose, “I can raise my arms, which is a good thing so far.”

The man hummed melodiously, his arm reaching to thread his fingers with yours high in the air, “I was more than gentle,” He then brought your hand down to his lips and kissed it, looking at you with adoration, “Which could be fixed, should you feel ready for another round of fun.”

You kissed the back of his hand as he did yours, lifting it above his head and against the pillow as you went to straddle his thighs, the blanket sliding off the both of you. You couldn't care less for your dress that still pooled around your waist as you kissed him with a grin, bringing his other hand above his head, “I wish to dance with you as my lover, is it too much to ask for?”

With eyes colored with mischief, he smirked and whispered against your lips, “It could be, if you keep pressing against my cock like this.”

“Like this?” You mocked, rolling your hips again.

When he tried to grab your hips, you rolled off him and onto the ground, laughing loudly before struggling to your feet, almost stumbling in the process. He tried to grab you but you pushed him back, sliding your arms into your sleeves while you hurried away from him, “Oh, to have a Harbinger struggling to come to his feet!”

The little time you looked away from him was enough for him to disappear and reappear behind you, his arms caging you, “What was it about a Harbinger?” He breathed down your ear, a smile on his lips.

“I will not concede this time, Tartaglia.” You spelled out, your hand reaching behind you to touch his face, “Would you like to know what my alias was this evening?” You asked softly, perhaps too proud of the name you had found. Your lover let you slip out of his grasp and looked at you expectantly, lovingly, excitedly; he hummed inquisitively as he stepped aside to get dressed once more, “I feel it will be interesting, go ahead.”

“Vittoria, not only because I was dead set on winning–”

“Which did not happen, continue.” He interrupted, throwing you a teasing smile while he buttoned his shirt up.

You rolled your eyes and tried to slip into your corset while struggling to say, “And because she was one of the lovers in, you know… the inspiration behind your chosen names among the Harbingers?” You finally slipped your corset on, then felt slender fingers trail down the fabric. You tensed and tried to look over your shoulder, but were immediately forced to look forward as Childe turned your head. “No, keep going. Tell me more, I will play the fool and ask why you chose that very name.” You heard him smile as he pulled at the lace of your corset, cinching it as you let out a gasp from how tight it was. You signaled over your shoulder for him to undo it slightly, which he did, prodding you to explain.

“It is as evident as the word is, Taru. What else should I–”

“What else should you tell me? Well, your every thought behind choosing this name! Some would go with fancy names, you chose one that aligned with me.” And he knew exactly why, after all, all that happened moments ago was not insignificant. You had both been open with your feelings, but part of him sought more concrete evidence, or perhaps he was teasing you. He was unsure because admitting the former would mean accepting his self-doubt.

Feeling your face warm up, you looked out the window, “Well, simply because…”

He waited, you had to continue.

“Because! Because–” Pull, tight. “It was enjoyable for an evening–” Pull, tight. “To run around, somehow claiming—ah!–” Chuckle, pull, tight, “The title of your lover. None knew, but I did.” You explained rapidly, gasping out a moan when Childe pulled one last time, melodiously singing under his breath as he tied the lace and pulled you by the waist against him, “Then we shall do it so that everyone knows, would it be even more enjoyable to you? I will admit, I truly wish to see their faces when I announce you as my partner out there.” He swayed you by the hips gently as he talked, his head resting against yours.

You scoffed and pressed your head back against his, “To have a bounty on my person, I cannot wait to see the exciting life to come!” You joked, making him laugh as he tutted you, “No one would dare touch you, and even so, how could they? I am never leaving your side now.” He stated, kissing your cheek from behind before turning you around and placing a mask on your face before you could kiss his lips.

“So let’s!” He grinned, tying the mask behind your head before letting you walk ahead of him, putting on his mask before joining you.

It took you a moment to realize what he had done, but it was all too late to fix it. As you stepped inside the ballroom, arm hooked onto his, you looked straight ahead and spoke loud enough so he could hear, “Did you do it on purpose?” You asked, unable to contain your smile.

“I would never dare!” He exclaimed, leading you to the dance floor.

“My mine, who would be foolish enough to confound our masks?” You asked lightly, grabbing his hand and placing your free one on his shoulder.

His laugh carried above the music, it was contagious. As you both laughed, he leaned in and whispered to your ear while crossing the floor, “But to see Lumine’s face, will it not be priceless?” He asked rhetorically, more amused than anything.

Your eyes widened as your grip tightened, “You will be the one doing the explanations, I cannot even begin to tell her–”

“That you are a liar in love?” He burst out laughing.

You held back from hitting his shoulder and instead opted for silent dancing.

But it was true, you had lied to Lumine and you had lied to yourself for long enough about your feelings for Childe. So perhaps tonight was more than an enjoyable night, it could become a freeing night. A night of honesty.

Ah, who were you fooling? You were more than happy to not have spotted Lumine for the rest of the evening—part of you wondered where she had gone and if she was expecting you at the inn…

But the smarter part of you simply closed your eyes and held him tighter under the covers, there were more important things to think about. Like the feeling of your hearts thrumming against your chests, trying their best to be closer than you already were—a well-paced rhythm that as time went on started beating simultaneously, in perfect synchronization, like a flock of birds.

#genshin fanfic #genshin #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #ajax #tartaglia #childe #genshin impact #smut #physicalturian #ao3 fic #ao3

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bowtasticguy · 2 years

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Potionomics, Luna, and Risk/Reward

So I recently wrapped up a playthrough of Potionomics. For those who aren't aware: Potionomics is a store management/deck building game in which you run a potion shop. You are given the task to craft and sell potions, bond with your business partners, and win certain competitions that pop up every 10 days. Today I want to focus on two aspects of the game: the deck building behind the haggling portion, and a particular business partner.

This is Luna. She deals in marketing and can be hired to improve public perception of certain potion types for a big payday. Basically, you use her services to set up massive selling sprees.

These are her cards, which you obtain through bonding events. Every characters gives these which you can use in your haggling sessions. The ultimate objective for all of these is to bring the price of your potions up by increasing the customer's "interest".

So, with that established let's talk about what seems to be her major gimmick: Stress. Stress is something that customers will often inflict on you while you haggle with them through either status effects or at the end of your turn. Think of it as the damage they deal to you and the interest as the damage you deal to them.

When you look at it that way, these cards hardly seem noteworthy, don't they? It's just a regular berserker sort of playstyle, that rewards you for playing at low health and living dangerously. That would be the case were it not for a particularity of the Stress system.

Stress is measured from 0 to 100%, and each percentage point represent your chance to draw a detrimental stress card whenever you draw a card. If they remain in your hand at the end of the turn they can inflict even more stress, apply status effects, and overall just make your time haggling very unpleasant. The most important effect of stress cards isn't something the cards themselves do, however, the most important effect is the fact that they replace cards you could have, rather than add to them. What does this mean? Well it means that the closer you get to 100% the closer you get to having no usable cards in your hand at all.

You may start to see the issue.

There ARE a couple of ways to mitigate this, one of them being the Mulligan card from Owl. One of these could very well turn your luck around if you get a stress hand. However, it can also just give you another stress hand... But hey that's getting a bit nitpicky.

So now we know about the Risk, but what about the Reward? Unfortunately I do find it to be a little lacking for how much the player is asked to push their luck.

Now let there be no mistake, the numbers are big, and can be made much bigger with the right buffs due to their focus on being one massive burst. Let's say we're at, for example, 40% stress and we use Dig Deep. Its first effect puts us at 45% stress and its second effect will proceed to deal a whopping 55 interest. This is a good number, but let's take a few things into account:

Something like this needs proper setup to really shine. This is the fate of cards with big numbers. Since buffs are percentage based, if you don't use them with Dig Deep it feels like a waste of the 3 patience (your resource to cast abilities) it requires. Without buffs, you might as well be running a Chorus deck (a deck that revolves around cycling itself to repeatedly play a card that becomes more powerful each time it's played) because while it takes a bit more patience to get going, it also comes with a lot less risk and a lot more opportunities to restore said patience.

And if you DO want to get buffs... Well you're left to lady luck's ruthless hands, aren't you? Let's not forget for a second that 40% is a rather significant chance, and you don't have all that many cards in your hand at base. In your effort for bigger numbers, you might just end up running out of options.

So what does this mean? Well, personally I feel like risky play gets set back significantly as soon as you introduce ways to limit a player's options. You see, I think that risky play should come from threading a dangerous line, but having the options to get out of it. Sure you have some ways to remove stress cards and even reduce stress to keep it better in check, but the fact remains that those cards become worthless if at a crucial moment they're replaced with stress cards.

My point here is meant to be taken as such: Give your players benefits for placing themselves in dangerous situations, but those benefits should be in the player's hands to use when needed. The downfall of a risky playstyle should be greed and hubris, rather than luck. If I wanted to create a high risk high reward play style, I would want my players to be Icarus, but for that I need to give them the wings. I need to give them control.

Only once the player is in full control of the risk, can they push their luck with the rewards. If they fall in the process, well that was their mistake was it not?

I just want to take a moment to make sure to let people know this has nothing to do with Luna as a character, but rather her stress focused playstyle and how I think the mechanic is far too punishing for someone to rely on it.

And I would like to take another moment for two questions:

Am I trying to tell you how to play the game? Absolutely not.

Am I trying to tell the devs how to develop their game? God no, I wouldn't dream of it! I'm just a recently graduated guy who's only worked on games in a school context.

Still, even if I'm green and unaware of the nuances of game design, I do want to immerse myself in it and see what I can learn. Every now and then, a minuscule part of the whole gets my attention, and I can't help but want to analyze it to the best of my ability.

Anyways thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

#potionomics #video games #indie games #game design #game analysis #analysis #This is the kind of post you can expect from this account

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annlillyjose · 1 year

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Dairy Whiskey – Update 01

[image description: a hanging branch of orange flowers against a blurry background of leaves. in the center, a white serif font reads, “dairy whiskey – update 01”. / end id]

hello there! it’s been several months since my dairy whiskey intro (which you can find here) and since then, i’ve written about 20k words. yep.

writing has been going fairly well for me even though it depends greatly on my mental health, and i’m really happy with all the progress so far. this is my first ever properly pantsed novel, because up until now, i felt the need to outline because it was said to be more structured and helpful, but when i let go of that pressure and tuned in to my instincts, it’s been working like magic. it’s been such a rewarding process. i am thrilled!

i have written way too much to include in one update, so i’ll be splitting it up into two. cutting out the intro/ramble here. let’s move on to the good stuff!

excerpts and taglist under the cut.

disclaimer: this is an original work of fiction. plagiarism of any kind will not be tolerated.

TWs: this novel deals with themes of childhood and religious trauma, sexual, emotional, and substance abuse, mental health issues, self-harm, abortion, etc. so please be kind on yourself and read ahead only if you feel comfortable

there were way too many good excerpts that i wanted to share, but i also didn’t want to spoil the book and cram everything into an update, so please excuse me while i struggle to make any sense.

chapter three – my brother in plague

in this chapter, ephron convinced dinah to smoke with him and when dinah reluctantly gives into her addiction after struggling with her memories and trauma for a long time. when they smoke in the plantation, ephron asks questions that upsets dinah and she storms back into the house. later, she takes a walk to the waterfall with austin, where they share tender moments that leave dinah confused about their relationship dynamics.

now moving on to the excerpts. here’s the opening paragraph.

In the first week following his return, I stole three unopened packets of cigarettes from Ephron. I’d found them all in his backpack, along with unwashed underwear, beverage shop bills, and several strips of Cetrizine. But today, there was nothing in his backpack – not a single cigarette – so I fished for a packet of Lights in his chest of drawers. That’s when I found it – father’s wedding ring, with the name Mariam inscribed in calligraphic font, wrapped in a children’s handkerchief with blue teddy bears and yellow flowers.

here’s a scene dinah remembers from the past, crucial to the novel, but it’s only briefly mentioned in this chapter.

Soon after mother left, Ephron began to drink openly. That night, after my impulsive swigs from father’s cupboard, he poured me a small peg of Black Label. He’d said, “See, Dinah. Here’s how the pain goes away. Here’s how you’ll forget. And me, too.”

this is followed by a long stretch of past trauma and dinah contemplating whether or not to smoke with ephron, while he smokes two cigarettes in the room they are in. eventually, she agrees to go and they smoke in the landholding.

later, when austin comes home to give dinah a new sim card as she had requested, they decide to go on a walk. on the way out, ephron confronts austin, acting up to be a “good brother” but it angers dinah and they have another fight. fast-forward to their walk and their time at the waterfall.

We took the walking route through Thresiyamma George’s plantation. Austin said it opened to the best view of the river. The best place to be with your emotions. Earthworms wiggled out of the soil. Millipedes and slugs leeched their way up our ankles, the tips of our toes dyed in cocoa colours. Mosquitos bred their wiggly larvae in the black plastic cups for latex collection. Newly spun webs of spiders glistened where small droplets of rainwater bejewelled them.

We walked mostly in silence. My feelings were tangled in themselves, strangling every partially alive piece left in me. The hem of his grey pants looked tie-dyed from the mud. Banana leaves and coconut trees stood scattered, drenched in the previous night’s wash.

let’s just say they have a fun time after this (but austin asks about ephron and dinah avoids the convo because, well, she doesn’t want to talk about him). they go back home after some time. back home, ephron apologises to dinah and it ends up triggering her (quite ideal).

“I am your brother, Dinah,” he pleaded. “No.” I shook my head. “No, you’re not.” I ran to the back door and got into the house through it. I locked myself in the room and crawled under the bed. With my knees plastered to my chest and my hands wound around them like coils, I cried until the tears wouldn’t come anymore. Rain began to pour and every other noise was drowned in the sound of water on the asbestos.

In this loudness, I fell asleep.

vignette three – a time to kill, a time to tear down

this is my vignette (but is long enough to be a chapter oops) on mariam – the mother who leaves before the story begins. it details why she left and for whom/what. i’ve shared a few excerpts from this chapter during nano 2022, so here‘a one excerpt from it.

In the afternoons, Mariam leaned out of the balcony in her cotton saree loosely draped around her body. The sun, now at an obtuse angle from the east, shed light on her face, illuminated her collarbones and the peak of her nose. Rivulets of sweat ran down the frame of her face. Cheeks flushed with the heat; skin cinnamoned under daylight. Her long, black hair in a low, messy bun smelled like coconut oil and dead flowers. Loose strands hung behind her ears, with baby hair sticking to the sweat on her cheeks. The rolls of her stomach and the gap between her thighs dampened under the heat. Downturned eyes with fierce, coal irises searched for something far off in the distance; much farther out of her reach. The kajal on her waterline dammed the tears that formed in this loneliness.

that’s it for today, but i’ll be back real soon with the next update because i’ve got a really fun chapter to share, so be on the lookout for that. i hope you enjoyed reading my novel excerpts today. please send me all the writer energy you can so that i can finish this baby off real soon and (maybe) start working on something new (oopsies)

– ann.

general taglist (ask to be +/-)

@shaonharryandpannisim @heartfullkings @vnsmiles @dallonwrites @wannabeauthorzofija @sienna-writes @violetpeso @flip-phones @rowansghost @ambidextrousarcher @duckiewrites @writing-with-l @magic-is-something-we-create @femmeniism @frozenstillicide @wizardfromthesea @rose-bookblood @coffeeandcalligraphy @rodentwrites

#writeblr #wip update #writing update #aljwrites #my wip #wip tag #dairy whiskey #dairy whiskey update

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writemywaytoyourheart · 3 years

Text

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 1: At First Sight

Pairing: hitman!jk x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, angst, drama

WC: 4.5k

Warnings for this chapter: alcohol consumption, language, stalking kind of? I think that's all lol. Pls let me know if there is anything else I should put.

tag list; @teresaisla @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @yukiehyukie

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn't sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn't his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Previous › Next

A bright smile graces your features as you tuck the little star-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into a tiny container, just barely getting two of them to fit as you squish them down a tad bit in order to get the lid clipped on.

Then you grab a little tangerine and a cheese stick to drop into your lunch bag along with the sandwiches, counting the number of items aloud to yourself as they make themselves at home and then you zip it all up.

"Th-There we go!" You lift your lunch for the day in triumph.

Your phone startles you when it starts to ring, then you grapple in your purse to find it. You pull it out and answer right before the last ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, girl! Are you ready to go? I'm downstairs." The voice of your best friend comes through the phone and you look at the clock on your microwave. You stare at the little black screen, confused as to why the time isn't showing up before remembering that you were never able to figure out how to display the clock when you bought the microwave three years ago. So, you hold your phone out to look at the time.

6:32

"Oh geez! I didn't r-realize the time. I'll be d-down in a minute, k?" You say, earning a lighthearted laugh from the girl on the other end.

"Take your time, hun. I'm not in any rush."

You thank her quickly and hang up, then you run to your room to grab your favorite pink cardigan and throw it on over your white shirt. As you're hurrying out and grabbing your lunch, you stumble and knock your knee into an open lower cabinet that you had forgotten to close the previous night after pulling a pan from it to make dinner.

"Ouch!" You hiss in pain and rub the sore spot, although it does nothing to ease the ache. Then you grab your purse and run outside, almost forgetting to lock the door. But you remember just in time and clumsily lock it before rushing down the stairs leading to the parking lot of your apartment complex.

Your best friend, Mina, is laughing. You can see her through the windshield as she waves to you. Lifting a hand to wave back, you don't realize in time that your arms are full. You drop your lunchbox and have to crouch to get it again, only taking up even more of your time.

But Mina finds it hilarious and tells you so as soon as you slide into the car and fumble with your seatbelt to get it buckled.

"Honestly, ___. I can't believe you're still single. If I wasn't straight as a board, I'd be head over heels for you and all your shenanigans." She states in a matter-of-fact tone as she pulls out of the parking spot.

A blush creeps up your neck and you try to laugh it off, "D-Don't be silly." You whisper, turning your gaze outside to look at the fluffy white clouds decorating the sky beautifully. You smile and lean your forehead against the glass as you imagine lying on a soft cloud, just drifting in the air.

"If you c-could go anywhere at all, where would y-you go?" You ask Mina suddenly, turning to her. Her eyes are focused on the road but she bites her lip in thought at your question. "Mm, probably Italy. What about you?" She's used to your sudden questions and ramblings, so she smiles when you start to go off.

"I'd wanna go up in the c-clouds. I wanna sit on one and maybe even see a r-rainbow up close! I wonder if I could slide down the rainbow..." Your brows furrow in deep thought. "Or would I f-fall?" You turn to her again and she glances over to see your signature puppy dog eyes that you use when you are either confused, upset, or want something.

Mina turns back to the road, a tiny ache in her heart that she hides with a bright smile, "Girl, you would ride that rainbow straight down into a pot of gold!"

"Really?" Your eyes widen and you feel your heart lift at the image.

She nods and you giggle happily, "You can come w-with me, Mina." You say confidently, your gaze turning back to the sky. "We can sleep in the clouds and slide down rainbows for the rest of f-forever."

"Sounds like a deal."

By the time Mina pulls up to the school, you've discussed everything you'd do up in the clouds and what you'd eat when you're hungry (stardust, you've decided, is the best meal anyone could eat.)

You unbuckle and gather your things. Then you remember something and turn back to Mina, "Oh yeah. W-When are you leaving on your business trip?" You ask a tinge of sadness in your voice.

"This weekend," Mina says solemnly. "I'm sorry I won't be able to drive you for a while. I'll be gone for a month this time."

That makes your heart sting but you manage a small smile, "D-Don't worry about me. I can walk! I'm gonna m-miss you though."

"I'll miss you too, buttercup. We'll hang out this Friday night before I leave the next day. How about that?" Mina asks kindly.

You nod enthusiastically and she smiles, "Ok, get your butt in there before you're late! The bell rings in half an hour and you can't be late on a Monday." She urges you and you nod, hopping out of the car and thanking her again for the ride, reassuring her that you'll walk home from work today.

You blow her a kiss and she laughs as you turn and hurry into the school.

You're all set up only a few minutes before the kids are supposed to arrive, so you go onto Pinterest and look through your fairytale boards, feeling a little spark of joy in your chest.

A couple of minutes later, the kids start streaming through the door, greeting you with the same amount of enthusiasm as you greet them. Your kiddos love you so much that all the other teachers are jealous and they let you know it every day. Of course, you have the sweetest kindergarteners and they're always the best for you.

"Hello, Teacher! Good morning Miss ___! Teacher, look at my new haircut!"

"Hi, Jina! Hello M-Minhhyuk! Kun, your new haircut l-looks so good!" All the kids have bright smiles on their faces by the time they've settled in their seats.

You always start the day off by getting everyone to stand and do a few stretches, then you sing the nursery rhymes you learned yesterday and start learning a new one. You honestly have as much fun as the kids during the school day.

"Ok, l-little ducklings, have a seat!" You get their attention and they immediately oblige. Next, is the alphabet that you guys have been working on since the beginning of the year. Every little one sings it perfectly all the way through and you give them a round of applause and they each get a little punch in their reward cards.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, with only one temper tantrum thrown and that was resolved quickly.

It's nearing the end of the school day and the kids are all playing during their free time. You're sitting with Ae-Cha, a small and fairly quiet girl, playing with colorful blocks; the both of you competing to see who can build the highest tower. You've learned that she responds well to playing games when there isn't too much talking involved.

You're constantly glancing around the room to make sure everyone is safe and playing nicely and you're always pleased. They've all improved so much since the beginning of school back in September. It's June now and they've all learned their alphabet and how to play nicely with their new friends, along with so many other things. They've really made you so proud this year. You can even hear them reciting the alphabet and nursery rhymes to each other as they play.

Your heart warms at the sound of tiny voices filling the room as they sing. Then you glance at the clock and realize the bell will be ringing in a few minutes. So, you declare Ae-Cha the winner with her foot-high tower of blocks and she beams proudly. Then, you get up and clap three times, "One, two, th-three! Eyes on me!" You singsong, then smile when the kids immediately respond by clapping twice and shouting "One, two! Eyes on you!"

"G-Great attention today, everyone! Alright, the bell will ring soon. Who can tell me w-what that means? What are we doing n-now?" A few little hands go up and you point to the little boy that raised his first, "Yes, Joon Woo?"

"We...Uhm...time to clean up toys...Uhm..." You smile to encourage him and he finishes cutely, "Time uh, to clean up our toys and pack bags."

"Yes! Thank you, Joon Woo. It is t-time for us to clean up and make sure our bags are packed up and ready for h-home!"

The kids start to pick up their toys as you put on the cleaning song that you play every day for them. You all sing along until the room is all tidied and their bags are packed with their homework papers.

You always give them little mazes to do for homework to get their little brains to learn to concentrate, along with instructions on what to draw to show the class the next day. Today, their homework is an extremely easy maze, a coloring page with the alphabet and instructions to draw themselves doing their favorite activity. The kids always love drawing pictures and sharing them with the class and it's a good ice breaker for the shy ones at the beginning of the day.

You always have less and easier homework for the kids on Mondays and Fridays, it just seems fair to you that way. You also feel like it's good for kids to express themselves and be able to share what they like and dislike. You've found drawing helps with communication and creativity for the kids in your class.

The sound of the bell ringing makes a few of you jump, then you hurry to the door. "Alright, ducklings! T-Time to line up!" A few of the kids make quacking sounds as they line up, giggling and talking to their friends.

You smile and open up the door, holding it as the kids walk out in a straight line, some of them still quacking like little ducks.

You lead the kids to the front of the school and make sure they get into the correct line for the bus if they take it. You wave goodbye to them as the kids that take the bus climb on and they run to a window to wave back to you.

The rest of the kids that are left are soon picked up by their parents or siblings. You wave to Ae-Cha, the last student to be picked up. She smiles shyly and waves back before hurrying after her big sister.

After that, you go back to your classroom and finish a few things before packing up to go home. As you're leaving your classroom, you run into one of the other teachers coming from his own room.

"Oh, h-hello Mr. B-Baek!" You bow, missing the ugly sneer on his face as you smile brightly at him. He pushes his glasses further up his nose as he scrutinizes you with his beady little eyes. "You don't belong here, Miss ___." He snaps.

You look at him in confusion, "I-I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I've waited the entire school year to say this to you. But now that we are nearing the end, I think you should know that you have no business being a teacher at this school. You ought to make the right decision to discontinue your work here." Mr. Baek watches your face fall with a sick sense of satisfaction.

"B-But, why?" You ask, still not understanding.

"First of all, you're inexperienced. You just got out of college last year, am I right?"

You nod uncertainly.

"You're still a child. Why should a twenty-two-year-old girl come marching in here and take a spot that should have been given to someone with more experience? And especially someone like you." He glares at you before turning on his heel and walking away briskly.

Someone like me? What does he mean by that?

You watch after him, feeling a tiny pinch in your chest. You aren't sure what he means, but whatever he's talking about, it sounds like he believes you shouldn't have become a teacher at all. At this school or another. You'll have to ask Mina later because you really have no idea where his rant came from.

Is there something wrong with you becoming a teacher?

You shake your head and laugh it off, "He's probably just had a bad day." You tell yourself as you make your way out of the school.

As you walk home, you sing quietly along with the song in your headphones, a little skip to your step.

You never notice the dark figure across the street, his eyes trained on your every move.

One day earlier...

Jungkook groans as he tosses and turns in bed, searching for his phone to turn the alarm off. He finally finds it and hits dismiss, tossing the phone back down and rubbing his eyes with a tired yawn.

After another minute he sits up and looks out the window, frowning at the sun seeping in and pooling across his floor in a golden river. He stares at a small bird that lands on his windowsill until it flies away.

Jungkook yawns again and reaches up to rub his eyes for the second time. After a few minutes, he's finally able to drag himself out of bed and into the shower. He almost falls asleep again in there, but he manages to make it out after half an hour.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he makes his way to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of soju that's sitting on his tiny dining table to take a small swig from, finishing off what he'd left last night after his third bottle right before he passed out in bed.

He sighs and grabs a bagel, searching for the cream cheese he swears he saw in his fridge last night. A small smile appears on his lips when he finds it. He snatches it and makes sloppy work of spreading it on his bagel before tossing the leftover trash onto his counter and plopping onto the couch, snarfing down the first half of his bagel in thirty seconds.

Jungkook sighs through his nose as he tiredly chews his breakfast, then he glances down and sees the file he'd left open on his coffee table last night. He swallows the bite he has in his mouth and leans forward to read over it.

Y/L/N Y/N...

Why is that name so familiar?

He shakes his head and flips the file closed, then he leans back on the couch, wanting to spend his Sunday relaxing before he has to get to work on this case. He isn't going to think about it again until tonight.

Jungkook settles down and lays his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

He won't think about it.

Jungkook lays there for a minute, then he opens his eyes and lifts his head, glaring at the closed file on the little table.

He grunts in annoyance and drops the other half of his bagel onto the table, grabbing the file angrily and sitting back again. He opens it and starts to reread everything he's read many times since Friday. There's just something that has felt off since he met with Mr. Ling, but he can't put his finger on what it is.

Jungkook squints at the name he's read a thousand times.

Y/L/N...Y/N...

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes, frustrated at not being able to remember where he's heard that name before. Then he looks at the occupation.

Teacher at Sunshine Kindergarten.

His brows furrow again, much like they have each time he's read this. He's never had a hit on a teacher before, let alone a Kindergarten teacher. That's such an odd target...

Most of his targets in the past have been sleazy business owners, rapists, leaders of gangs that have terrorized neighborhoods for years, even other hitmen. He's never had a problem with those jobs, but there's something about this one that's telling him to be careful.

Maybe it's because he knows nothing about his client, except for the large sum of money he must have due to the pay he's been promised. Other clients of his were more than happy to explain why they wanted him to do what he does. They never paid him until after the job was done, either.

That leads Jungkook to believe that this guy (or girl) is desperate for his services, convincing him to do it with payment before and after. Almost as if Jungkook would refuse after he found out who the target was...

Jungkook flips the page and scrutinizes the picture of the target.

She's very simple looking, Jungkook thinks. The girl in the picture is wearing a white flowy skirt with a blue blouse that covers her whole arms and white chunky tennis shoes. Her hair is in a low ponytail and it seems like she has headphones in as she walks down the street. There's a tiny smile on her face as if she's thinking about something that makes her happy.

Jungkook doesn't find her particularly beautiful, but she isn't ugly either. She's just very...

Simple...

Jungkook shakes his head, his eyes going over the photo and the girl's smile one more time. Maybe she's a double agent? Or a part of the mafia disguising herself as a school teacher?

He can't figure it out.

It doesn't matter much though, the job seems simple enough and the pay is more than he's ever gotten. After looking through everything once more, Jungkook closes the file and grabs his bagel, quickly eating it before getting up to get dressed for the day.

That night, Jungkook lays out his outfit for the next day.

It's all black, but not suspicious-looking. After all these years, he's been able to design the perfect outfits to avoid attention being drawn to him and simple enough so that no one would think much of him if he were to catch anyone's attention.

It might seem simple, but he prides himself on being able to get each part of his job perfectly designed for each case he gets.

Heaven knows it's taken him years to accomplish.

After he's gotten that all figured out, he walks over to his closet and pulls out a small safe. Setting it on the bed, he swiftly unlocks it and looks inside. He pulls out a few things, examining each of them before he sets them one by one onto his bed. Once he's got the items all laid out, he steps back to look it all over.

"I should wait to decide..." Jungkook mumbles to himself. After a minute of staring at everything, he nods and gathers it all up, carefully putting it back into the safe and locking it tightly. Then he brings it back to his closet and shoves it into the darkest corner where it lives.

That can wait.

He pulls his phone out and checks the time.

11:45

"Damn it," Jungkook mutters. He had wanted to get some sleep earlier tonight since he would have to be awake early tomorrow.

He changes into some shorts, then he yanks his shirt off and immediately climbs into bed, not even bothering to shower or brush his teeth. He really couldn't care less with how tired he is. And he hasn't even started yet.

His alarm blares at an ungodly hour as Jungkook groans loudly, resisting the temptation to chuck his phone across the room.

"I hate Mondays." He mutters angrily, setting his phone back on the nightstand far from gracefully.

He miserably drags himself out of bed and into the shower, going through his morning motions almost like a robot. His brain isn't fully awake and it's just on autopilot right now.

An hour later, he's just finishing his coffee, his eyes no longer squinting in exhaustion. Jungkook unceremoniously drops his coffee cup into the sink, promising himself he'll clean it up later, then he sighs as he grabs his black boots, walking to the couch to sit and pull them on. After he's done lacing them up, he grabs the file he's been avoiding like the plague since yesterday morning.

He mutters to himself, looking at the name on the page.

"I know that name."

Then he smacks his forehead to get himself to focus again. He stands up and folds the page with the girl's information and then her picture and tucks them into the inside pocket of his black jacket.

Time to get to work.

Jungkook spots the girl almost instantly, the second she steps out of a black car. He glances at the driver, but can only see a person with shoulder length black hair waving. The girl from the picture has a bunch of things in her arms as she blows a kiss to the short-haired driver.

Jungkook has been here since six-thirty in the morning and just as he was beginning to think she called in sick for work, he's finally gotten a chance to see this girl in person. She looks exactly as he remembers from her picture...plain.

She's even wearing the same white skirt and chunky tennis shoes, although this time she has a different top. Her hair is in a high ponytail this time.

"Well, ___. Nice to meet you." Jungkook mutters, watching closely.

After a moment, the black car drives away as the girl scurries into the school, tripping on the last step before straightening herself out again, then disappearing from his sight.

Huh.

Jungkook stares at the door for another minute, then he makes his way to the stores nearby, knowing he's gonna have to wait until the girl leaves. School for the young kids typically gets out at around three-thirty. So, he'll have to be back here around then.

He's definitely going to need to find something to do to kill time.

Jungkook heaves a sigh of relief when he hears the school bell finally ring.

He hurries from the clothes store he was browsing and down the street a block until he's almost across the street from the school. He finds a good spot where he can sift through some newspapers at a little stand and still have an eye on the school.

After a minute, he sees a long line of tiny children coming out from the school. The girl is with them and smiling brightly. Jungkook thinks he can hear some of the kids quacking like ducks. He tries not to look puzzled as he goes back to talking to the person working the paper stand. Jungkook makes small talk with the old man, still keeping an eye on the girl across the street as she waves to each child that leaves.

If she's some mafia boss disguised as a kindergarten teacher, she's one hell of a good actress.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The old man inquires curiously.

Jungkook laughs softly and shakes his head, "No. I've been so busy with my work I never got the chance to date."

The man nods knowingly. They chat a bit more and Jungkook finds himself trying to balance talking to the man and watching the girl.

"Well, did you want to buy a paper for the day?"

Jungkook turns his gaze back to the old man and nods, "Yes. Two, please. My neighbor would probably enjoy one as well."

The old man laughs and nods, taking the money Jungkook hands him and giving him two papers, "What a kind young man you are. Someday you'll find a lovely young lady, don't you worry, son. You will realize that work is important, but love is even more so."

Jungkook just laughs and thanks the man, then he opens the paper as he slowly starts walking, pretending to read.

He stops at a bench and sits down to wait. The girl went back into the school a few minutes ago, hopefully, she won't be in there long.

Luck seems to be with him today, because, after only about five minutes, Jungkook sees a familiar white skirt flowing as she skips down the steps of the school.

He folds his paper carefully, tucking it into his back pocket. The girl puts little earbuds in and immediately starts to mouth the words of whatever song she's listening to. Jungkook tugs his black baseball cap down a little more as he follows on the other side of the street.

The girl has a bag decorated with cupcakes and cookies that bounces up and down as she dances a little.

What is she, twelve?

Jungkook watches in confusion as the girl stops to pet a dog, giggling when the puppy licks her hand. She straightens up, then after another minute, she seems to get distracted by something else.

Jungkook looks carefully and notices she's picked up a flower that was laying on the ground, seemingly trampled on. She gently holds it in her hands as she continues on her way. It goes on like this for the next fifteen minutes, the girl waving to people and smiling almost the whole way.

By the time she is walking up the steps to her apartment, Jungkook is dying to just get back home. That must have been the longest most annoying walk he's ever taken while tracking someone. The girl had stopped over twenty times, distracted by something else each time, he's sure of it.

Just to be sure, Jungkook lingers around the apartment building a little longer, but when it seems apparent that the girl is going to be staying there, he finally heads home.

Geez, Jungkook thinks in annoyance as he climbs the stairs that lead to his own apartment. His head is spinning with so many questions while he unlocks his door and yanks his boots off with a groan.

But when he plops down onto his bed in his tiny studio apartment, he just stares at the ceiling, his mind suddenly blank apart from one question.

Who in the hell would put a hit on this girl?

a/n: I hope you guys are liking the setup so far, thank you for all the positive reactions from the prologue!

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yamalegacy · 3 years

Note

can you do nsfw headcanons with mt lady please?

can i? can i do n/sfw hcs for one of my favourite characters? of fucking course i am! and i will happily do so bc i'm big time horned monster for lil miss mt lady! and well, since i didn't know where to start, in true super extra french fashion, went overboard and finished the n/sfw alphabet for her 💛

i’d already done a, d, l, m, t, y but i added them to this post so that i can have a full alphabet in one post!

cw: mentions of dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, threesomes, dry humping, finger sucking and slight oral fixation probably, mentions of so many things tbh. yū is a brat. also, pubic hair and stretch marks? idk man

⚠️ MDNI not so casual reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

A — AFTERCARE ( what are they like after sex? )

she is a bottom through and through and a pillow princess, so get ready to have to take care of her because she gets even lazier than usual after a good fuck. she can get whiny and demanding, asking for a bath or tea or both, but you’ll always be rewarded with cuddles and kisses. if she doesn’t fall asleep, that is.

B — BODY PART ( which body part do they like the most? )

big time ass and thighs girl right here. she enjoys a handful (or two handfuls, you know), girl loves a shapely ass that feels nice in her hands. she can’t keep her hands off of a nice ass.

C — CUM ( any headcanon about cum )

she complains a lot about basically all things cum related at first lbr, not to the point of complaining about going down on you (well, depending on how much you come, really...). it’ll take a while for yū to accept to kiss you after you eat her out, but you’ll catch her moaning at the taste of her own arousal more than once. and well. maybe sucking on your fingers after you fucked her turns her on a whole fucking lot. don’t expect her to admit it out loud tho.

D — DREAMS ( do they have sex dreams? what kind? how do they react? )

fairly regular kinky dreamland visitor. yū hates her sex dreams though. she always wakes up just when things are getting good, so she wakes up wet, needy and desperate every time. if you aren’t sleeping together that night, she’ll send you messages to complain, or even call you, hoping for a quickie over the phone. if you’re in her bed, she won’t care what time it is, she’ll wake you up and demand that you make her come. if you ignore her and go back to sleep, be ready to deal with a grumpy pro hero all day long (poor kamui woods has heard her complain about it way too many times and wishes he could forget everything she’s told him, especially that one time she dreamed about a threesome with you and him).

E — EXPERIENCE ( how much experience do they have? )

a lot less than you’d expect her to. yū is still young and she’s been extremely busy trying to become a pro hero so she hasn’t had that much time to experiment. she’s had a few partners, but it’s mostly been vanilla experiences for her.

F — FAVORITE POSITION ( what is their favorite sex position? )

she likes when things are close and personal, so missionary is always good with her, honestly. she loves being able to see your face and kiss you when you fuck her. yū also enjoys being bent over your lap, so that you can fuck her with your fingers and pull at her hair — learn how to multi-task, my friend, and she’ll be putty in your hands.

G — GRAB ( where do they like to have their hands on you the most? )

ass ass ass. thighs. ass. there’s very few things that yū loves more than a good ass and she will never stop touching it when it’s within her reach. when she is acting jealous or possessive, she tends to grab you by the wrists. if she’s still feeling possessive when you get home, she will crawl on top of you and keep her fingers wrapped around your wrists for a while, and then intertwine your fingers. yū has a habit of squeezing, it’s a way for her to make sure that you’re there, with her, that you aren’t going to go away.

H — HOT & BOTHERED ( what are they like when turned on? )

oh boy. is she a wild one! no matter what, she will be needy, but it might manifest in two very different ways. 1) she’ll give you the cold shoulder and pretend that she totally isn’t horny and desperate, she’s stubborn like that, but she sucks at hiding those things from you; she always presses her thighs together, that’s her biggest tell 2) she’ll just outright initiate intimacy, kiss your neck, straddle your lap and grind on your thigh.

I — INTIMACY ( how caring are they during/after sex? )

yū isn’t exactly the most gentle of lovers in general, even outside of your sex life. she is good with gentle touches, like caressing you, touching your hair, but when it comes to sex... little miss pillow princess expects you to take care of her. and she can be pretty demanding about it. but her habit of holding your hands is one of the ways she shows she cares.

J — JACK OFF ( any masturbation headcanon )

when adrenaline sets down after a day at work, yū needs the release more than anything, it’s also a really good way for her to relieve some stress. being a pro hero isn’t easy every day after all! she tends to want to make it quick because she doesn’t have all that much patience, which is exactly why she avoids penetration when touching herself; she’s all about rubbing her clit and vibrators — and she knows how to make it rough and quick.

K — KINK ( favorites? which ones do they keep secret? )

(semi) public sex, edging, overstimulation and multiple orgasms. dominance and any display of dominance that might be associated with a dom/sub dynamic, really. yū is a sub and it shows. she’ll complain about orgasm control because she’s not getting the release she needs, but it’s one of her favorite things. she has a bit of an oral fixation, bit of an obsession with sucking your fingers and licking them clean after you’ve fucked her, but she... well, she doesn’t want to admit it tho. it’s not that much of a secret since it’s become extremely obvious to you. on the other hand, she wouldn’t mind trying some roleplay/petplay and a bit more of degradation, but she sure af would mind saying it out-loud.

L — LOCATION ( what is their favorite place to have sex? )

being the pillow princess that she is, yū will always favor a comfortable bed over anything else, but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t enjoy sex in other places. the two of you have become well acquainted with the couch at her agency (which has led to some awkward situations when you realized too late that you weren’t actually alone in the building).

M — MOTIVATION ( what turns them on? )

extremely sensitive and painfully easy to turn on. you barely have to try to turn her on most of the time, really. run your fingers on her inner thighs, grab her by the waist, whisper in her ear about what you want to do to her and she’ll be ready to go. yū will complain a lot if you do it in public, but that’s only because it gets her turned on in record time! hearing your voice, your praises, spurs her on better than anything else.

N — NOPE ( any turn offs or hard limits? )

she is a bit claustrophobic and her quirk makes it dangerous for her to feel trapped, which is why you have a safeword. she doesn’t like being handcuffed or tied down unless she knows she has an easy way out. she likes when you sit on her face, but not for too long, for the same reasons.

O — ORAL ( do they like giving or receiving? a preference? )

yū is an oral enthusiast, of course. she prefers receiving (she isn’t a pillow princess for no reason), but she enjoys pleasing you and being good for you, so there’s not a doubt she enjoys going down on you.

P — PACE ( fast or slow? )

her impatience makes it harder for her to enjoy slow at times. she wants it hard and fast (partly because it’s much easier than dealing with feelings). and well, when you take it slow and edge her... she is so sensitive that she’s come without permission on accident more than once because she just can’t control it. fast is easier because then she knows you just expect her to come.

Q — QUICKIE ( are they up for a quickie? )

always. all the time. never not up for a quickie.

R — ROMANCE ( do they like romantic gestures to set the mood? )

while she likes the idea on paper, the whole concept of taking the time to enjoy the moment, have nice scented candles and a warm bath, and she might put some effort into it when she has days off tbh. but it’s mt lady we’re talking about, you should know better than to expect all that romance fantasy! yū still knows how to surprise you from time to time.

S — STAMINA ( how long can they last? )

yū is a pro hero. she has years of training behind her and regularly works up to stay in shape, so she definitely has the stamina to go several rounds! but depending on how tiring her day has been. honestly, she might not make it to a first orgasm one some days, but those are rare occasions.

T — TALK ( what is their dirty talk like? )

yū isn’t necessarily the best with words; she’s all for kisses and touches. but if you’re touching her the right way, she’ll tell you how good you are. she won’t hesitate to tell you that she’s all yours and that she’s wet just for you.

U — UNFAIR ( how much do they tease? )

this woman. she knows your weaknesses, she knows what turns you on, what makes you want her the most. she likes to provoke more than to really tease; she wears the outfits that you love the most on her, the cute bras that push her tits up just right, the pretty sets of lingerie that she’s bought to look nice for you. if she’s feeling mean, she’ll swat your hands away when you try to touch her, but honestly, it won’t last long because. well. once again, yū is extremely impatient and there’s no much that can be done about it.

V — VOLUME ( how loud are they? )

makes a lot of noises but isn’t super loud in general. moans and whines, a lot of them. she makes the prettiest noises, honestly.

W — WILD CARD

you can't tell me that with her quirk she doesn't have stretch marks. she kinda hates them and is glad that her hero costume hides them, but seriously, just take a minute to kiss them and run your fingers over them. funnily enough, while she hates her own stretch marks, she could spend hours appreciating yours.

X — X-RAY ( any headcanon about their bodies and grooming habits )

yū takes really good care of herself and her body — she doesn’t like to shave everything off when it comes to her pubic hair, she keeps it clean and trimmed tho. she has very nice ethics when it comes to her appearance. shaves, no waxing, she hates the idea of having to go to a salon and have a stranger touch her, even if it’s their job.

Y — YEARNING ( how desperate do they tend to be? )

mt. lady is queen of yearning. she’s also queen of pretending that she doesn’t miss you all the time. if work takes over her life for a few days and she can’t see you for a while, you can expect her to just be glued to you the second she sees you again. she’ll be extra needy and probably want to ride your thigh. she wouldn’t be able to let you go. and yet she’ll try (and fail) to pretend like she didn’t miss you and wasn’t desperate to feel you again.

Z — ZZZZ… ( how quickly do they fall asleep? )

well... it’s happened a few times that she fell asleep embarrassingly quickly after an orgasm... let’s say you’ve stopped counting how many times she’s fallen asleep with your fingers in her mouth.

#mha x reader #mha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha smut #bnha smut #mt lady x reader #⛰️ takeyama yu ( mt lady )#⚠️ mdni ⚠️#🍌 headcanons

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tommyhollandaisesauce · 3 years

Text

Let Me Do The Work TEASER [t.h.]

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ?k

Posted: 11/16/2020

Warning(s): Fluff, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), oral sex (f receiving), maybe too much plot? and definitely a whole lotta lazy sex sue me.

Summary: Tom thinks you deserve a reward after a hard few days at work.

A/N: First smut in the bag lets go. Also, the point of view makes no sense but continuity is not in my vocabulary so. Anyway, the full part is almost finished so lmk how you guys like this!

When Tom got home on Wednesday night the last thing he expected his girlfriend to say was “Wanna have sex?” He had asked a few times before if you could and your response was usually something to the effect of “Sorry babe, another time, I’m just exhausted.” He knew your job was taxing and took a lot out of you and, frankly, Tom could survive the work week without getting any. He also knew that once Friday night rolled around it was all systems go; the weekend was yours to fool around as much as you wanted. And he was willing to wait.

Asking never hurt, though. Tom wasn’t annoying about it, at least he hoped he wasn’t. And for all the times you’d asked to have sex after he had a particularly exhausting day on set and he agreed, he didn’t feel super guilty about asking now and then.

It was unusual that Tom would be so exhausted from working that he didn't have any energy left to have sex. There had been some rare days when Tom could barely keep his eyes open even though you were right there, naked and sweaty, and riding his cock right on the living room couch. Your hands would be resting on his broad shoulders, your fingers digging into the muscles beneath his freckled skin as you bounced on his cock and his hands could barely stay put on your waist or hips to help you move. Sure, he liked watching you rise and fall on his lap and he liked seeing himself disappear inside of you and he liked the way your tits bounced with every movement and he liked watching your face. God, he loved your gorgeous face.

Your eyes would flutter open and closed the closer you got and you’d look at him with your big, beautiful eyes that were dark and lust blown and your jaw would go slack and you’d throw your head back in pleasure. Your movements would get sloppier as you’d start shaking and convulsing while you came. His arms would lazily wrap around your waist to pull you closer and you’d nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing hard against his skin as you came down from your high. But Tom couldn’t find it in himself to even worry about his own orgasm, he just wanted to sleep.

So when he came home to your shared flat around 7 pm from walking Tessa on a particularly boring Wednesday, now that he had a break, and saw you lying on the couch with a glass of red wine in one hand and your other arm thrown over your eyes, he figured it was pointless to ask. You had gotten home sometime while he was out, didn’t bother changing out of your blouse and jeans just yet, popped a bottle open, and poured yourself a glass.

Tom unclipped the leash from Tessa’s collar, allowing her to run free around the flat. Immediately, she trotted over to you, nuzzling your legs with her nose until you caved and gave her a few scratches behind her ears. Tom slipped off his sneakers, padding over to you, causing Tessa to run off in search of her favorite toy. The couch sank under his weight as he sat down next to your head, your eyebrows raised at the shift.

“Hey, stranger,” you muttered, removing your arm from covering your half-lidded eyes. Your eyes sparkled in the dim living room lighting as you looked up at Tom. He couldn’t remember a single time they looked dull. Not during a fight, or when you were sad or tired or sick, never. They reminded him of stars. No matter what, they kept shining.

“Hi love,” Tom leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your wine-stained lips. The upside-down angle was slightly awkward, but you’d be lying if you said you two hadn’t done the Spider-Man Kiss before, per his request.

You smiled up at him as he pulled away and closed your eyes. Tom threaded his fingers through your messy locks and you relaxed, even more, leaning your head into his hand.

“Long day?” He asked, continuing to run his fingers through your hair.

“Don’t even get me started,” you huffed out, dramatically throwing your arm back over your eyes, which made Tom chuckle at your antics.

“Tell me what happened?” He asked, and as you lowered your arm, you raised a single eyebrow at him.

“You sure?” You asked cautiously, “Because I wouldn’t wish the shit I dealt with today on my worst enemy.”

Tom scoffed, shrugging his shoulders, “Try me.”

You sighed before beginning your story. Today had been insufferable. From the minute you clocked in, to the minute you clocked out, it had been hell. One coworker in particular, with whom you were not super close or friends with in any way, kept nagging you about your relationship like she did every single day.

The incessant questioning and probing was getting old and, quite frankly, rude. The questions started out harmless, like everyone else’s when they found out the Tom Holland was your boyfriend. Some asked for autographs or pictures and you declined, saying that if he ever came in Tom would be more than happy to do that. And Tom agreed; you playing messenger was weird and not the type of thing either of you wanted people to get accustomed to. And most people understood; except for one.

The more she asked the worse they got. Personal questions were the norm now. Questions about family members and life together and sex. God, the sex questions never ended. ‘Is it good?’ and ‘What are you guys into?’ were some of her favorites. Sometimes she’d get creative with them and switch them up. And every time, you refused to answer. And you relayed this information to Tom like you did most days, and he rolled his eyes in annoyance at her ignorance before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead when he saw you were getting riled up.

You softened immediately and sighed. Tom had a calming effect on you. Just being around him was relaxing. After so long together he still could calm you down. And he was cheaper than your copay for therapy, so hey why not vent to him?

“Just forget about her for now, babe,” Tom sighed out, continuing to stroke your hair, “she’s not worth your energy.”

“You're right,” you said quietly, “I’m home, I got my wine, I got my boy, I can relax.”

“Exactly,” Tom said, laughing at your words. He didn’t feel the need to say anything else as you both relaxed, his fingers still threaded in your hair, until a few more minutes went by, your eyes opened, and you turned your head to make sure you were setting down your not yet empty glass on the coffee table.

A soft “hey” escaped Tom’s lips as he watched you use your arms to lean up and turn to face him. He would’ve spoken more but was cut off as your lips pressed to his, the kiss awkward since you had caught him as he was speaking. His lips were slightly chapped and he tasted like spearmint gum as you hovered over him and moved your lips against his.

Tom sighed into the kiss, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek. You clumsily clambered into Tom’s sweatpants clad lap to straddle him and his other hand sat high on your thigh. The kiss was slow and passionate, neither of you in a rush to go further just yet. You melted into the kiss as his tongue slid along your lower lip to ask for permission to enter. You parted your lips immediately, allowing Tom access. After a few moments of lazily making out like teenagers, you pulled away to catch your breath. You closed your eyes, leaning your forehead against Tom’s as you both panted, trying to catch your breath.

“Can we go to our room?” You mumbled, just loud enough for Tom to hear. Your voice was low, soft, and a little shaky from being so tired. His eyes opened at your words and his ears perked up. Tom pulled his head away from yours and your eyes returned to their half-open state.

“I thought you were tired?” He questioned teasingly, tucking some strands of hair behind both your ears and resting his hands on your cheeks. You reached up and wrapped your fingers around Tom’s wrists, smiling sweetly at him. He was sure his heart damn near melted in his chest at the sight of his sleepy girlfriend asking to have sex with him.

“I am,” you said softly, smirking as Tom ran his hands down your sides and settled over your hips, “why do you think I wanna go to our room?” You joked, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck and ducking your head down to place soft kisses along the side of it. He sighed, tilting his head in the opposite direction to give you more room as your fingers carded through the short, soft curls at the back of his head.

“You sure?” Tom asked breathily, as you continued laying kisses across his jaw and below his ear, “Because I don’t want you to do it just because I want to-”

“Tom,” you huffed, pulling away from his neck, your hands migrating to rest on his shoulders. He straightened up and opened his eyes as the feeling of your soft lips disappeared from his neck. “I’m sure. Now shut up and take me to the bedroom.”

FULL PART

A/N: AAAHHHH ok I mean I definitely put words on the page lol. Fr tho this is the first time I’ve ever posted anything so lmk if y’all want the rest! Feedback is always appreciated! <3

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #tommyhollandaisesauce

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amaranthinecanicular · 3 years

Text

and the name for your order is

The guy snarls his order, and Kirishima is glad because clearly he's an unrepentant dick to everyone, not just Amajiki. It's easier to come to terms with than he thought it would be. “And your name?” he says, plucking a cup from the stack and uncapping the marker with his teeth.

“Who the fuck wants to know?” says the customer.

“Oh no,” says Kirishima, because oh no, he likes this guy. It's one of those sudden revelations that takes him by the throat and shakes him down. Who wants to know, he says, as though it wasn't obvious. Who wants to know. So absurdly aggressive it ends up amusing instead of intimidating. Endearing, even.

[My belated @fyeahbnha secret santa gift for @pointy-hat-witch! Please enjoy, and happy holidays!!!]

[Alternatively read on ao3.]

OCTOBER

Fat Gum’s Café has a new customer.

Well. Not new, exactly. He's been showing up for the last two weeks or so but only on days Kirishima wasn’t working. The news shared by his coworkers more closely resemble war stories than work gossip, ranging exclusively from horrible to terrible.

“He’s the scariest person I’ve ever met in my life,” says Amajiki.

“He’s like a sentient piece of crap rolled up in a garbage can and set on fire,” says Kaminari.

“He makes Give me a mocha double espresso sound like an order of execution,” says Amajiki.

“He’s rude and violent and he has no honor,” says Tetsutetsu.

“If he’s not actually a demon sent from the depths of hell to torture me specifically I would be very surprised,” says Amajiki. Most of the stories are from Amajiki.

Kirishima is dying to meet him, in part to defend his friends’ honor and in part to put a face to the legend. Luckily, the start of the new quarter means new classes at new times, and that means new work hours. What was originally a Tuesday-Thursday-Friday-Sunday schedule shifts to a Monday-Wednesday-Saturday schedule. Kirishima feels bad about that. He likes the coffee shop, likes his coworkers, likes his boss. If he could ace his tests and help out at Fat Gum’s every day he would, but he can't. His grades are dragging.

On the bright side, he meets their local celebrity, like, immediately.

It’s his first Saturday on the job. He knows it’s about to go down when he finds Amajiki attempting to assimilate himself into the storage closet.

“He's back,” says Amajiki, doing an excellent impression of coffee grounds quaking in fear. “If I have to deal with him again I'll die, I'll just die. Tell Mirio and Hadou I said goodbye. I'm sorry, Kirishima-kun, I can't do it.”

Poor guy. Amajiki is convinced this dude is terrorizing him deliberately, which Kirishima sincerely hopes isn't true. Anyone who would go out of their way to frighten serious, hardworking, anxious Amajiki must be a monster.

As if to punctuate this point, someone out at the front begins to brutalize the counter bell. To be fair, they really shouldn't leave it unmanned.

“Don't sweat it, senpai,” Kirishima says. He doesn't give Amajiki the manly clap to the shoulder that he wants to—Amajiki isn't so good with physical contact from anyone other than Togata or Hadou. “I'll handle the problem customer.”

Amajiki peeks at Kirishima through coffee filters and the dark wedge of his fringe. “You—you mean it?”

“Sure do. I like a challenge.”

He flashes his brightest smile. Amajiki squints a little at the force of it.

Kirishima is honestly surprised that the poor bell isn’t dented by the time he comes to its rescue.

“About fucking time,” says the problem customer. He's got riotous blond hair and a scowl on his face like it's been carved there. There's a grenade logo sprayed on his baggy black tee, which makes sense, because one look at this guy brings to mind the word explosive.

“How may I help you, sir?” says Kirishima, with deliberate pep. Impossibly, impressively, the scowl cuts deeper. Like an attack—like he's never not on the offensive. That's fine. Kirishima’s smile will be his armor.

“Who the fuck wants to know?” says the customer.

Kirishima spits the cap out of his mouth. “I want to know. For your order, man.”

The problem customer narrows his eyes as though to peer through Kirishima’s question to the ulterior motives behind it, which is insane, since there are no ulterior motives to be found in the absolutely routine procedure of a coffee shop. Cheerfully oblivious seems to be getting under his skin, so Kirishima leans into it. “What if I forget who asked for the mocha double espresso?”

The customer rolls his eyes. He rolls his eyes violently. “Right, because I'm real fucking forgettable.”

“You could be.” The look he gets for that is entirely worth breaking the Customer Is Always Right creed. “We get a lot of traffic, man, it’s nothing personal.”

The customer braces himself on the counter and leans into Kirishima’s space. Instinct hooks in his spine and tries to reel him back a step or two, but he hardens his resolve into stone and ties it to his feet, weighs himself down, refuses to budge.

“You'll remember me,” the customer says. A promise like a threat, and for the first time in the duration of this exchange Kirishima feels seen by him. Acknowledged. It's the same feeling as scoring well on a test, or making a sad friend laugh. Hard-won and worth it. Kirishima can't stop the grin from breaking onto his face so he doesn't try to.

“Sure I will. I like you.”

And the look he gets for that, well, that's priceless.

“So that name?”

“Fuck off.”

The guy recovers fast, that's for sure. Kirishima watches him skulk to the serving counter where he roots himself like a particularly irritable tree and barks at anyone who gets too close. The next customer gets an extra punch in her punch card for the wait, and when the guy's order is up, Kirishima is ready with a sharpie in hand. Amajiki has ventured back out to help with orders, steadfastly avoiding anything problem-customer-related, but he blanches when he sees what Kirishima is scribbling on the cup. “Are you insane? Do you have a death wish? Should I be getting you help?”

“Trust me,” Kirishima says. He caps the coffee and walks it to its rightful owner. “One mocha double espresso for Mr. Unforgettable.”

The guy snatches the cup. He stomps off without another word.

Thirty seconds later he stomps right back.

“Blasty McSplode?”

Amajiki ducks under the counter. Kirishima, in the process of taking another order, smiles wide enough to cramp his cheeks.

“Hey! Back already?”

“Blasty Mc-Fucking-Splode?”

“You wouldn't give me your name. I had to take a stab at it myself. Was I close?”

“I'll show you taking a stab—”

Blasty rants and raves for a full minute, splashing mocha just about everywhere, until finally Fat Gum himself ambles out of his office to gently shoo him from the shop. Kirishima waves at him around Fat Gum’s bulk. Blasty waves his middle finger in response. When Fat Gum comes back in he raises an eyebrow at Kirishima, which, yeah, he definitely deserves, but he also passes a heavy hand through his carefully gelled hair to show that he's not really mad. Kirishima fixes his hair as best he can while Amajiki climbs out from under the counter.

“I can't believe he didn't kill you for that,” he says, his voice buffed by awe.

Kirishima gives the next customer's punch card an extra punch too. Hell, he gives her two extra punches. Why not? He's in a great mood.

Two days later Blasty stalks in and Kirishima can't believe his good fortune. He calls out a greeting from across the cafe and gets a glare in response, but that glare holds, a few seconds of extended eye contact, long enough to stay in Kirishima’s belly after it's ended and flutter there.

Blasty growls his order. Kirishima asks for his name. Blasty tells him to go die and Kirishima scribbles Lord Explosion Murder on the cup. He's rewarded with a snort of amusement.

“Did you see that?” he gushes to Kaminari, after Blasty has left. “He totally laughed! He liked it!”

“I saw it I saw it ow stop hitting me!” Kaminari rubs the place on his shoulder that Kirishima had been slapping repeatedly. “I dunno, man. That sounded more like a scoff to me.”

Nah, he's pretty sure he was amused.

The next time he comes in, after the requisite exchange (“Your name for the order?” “Eat a dick,” “Cool cool I think I'd get fired if I wrote that but cool,”) Kirishima writes King Explosion Murder on the side of the cup.

“Better,” Blasty huffs.

Kirishima feels like cloud-walking for the rest of the day. Kaminari isn’t on shift, but when Kirishima texts him, he texts back: “I stand corrected. When are you asking him out?”

“All in due time,” Kirishima promises his phone.

NOVEMBER

Blasty’s schedule:

He shows up Monday mornings, rumpled by sleep and grouchier than usual, before he heads off to class. Wednesday evenings he drinks and studies until closing time. Saturday afternoons he sits at the window with a bento. Coincidentally these are the three days and times that Kirishima is on duty. And it must be coincidental, because if it's not then that means that Blasty memorized his schedule and molded his life accordingly, learned to fit him in, looks forward to seeing him three days out of the week. Kirishima may be an optimist, but he's not delusional. He knows how dangerous a daydream like that can be.

He’s probably just here because it’s a good place to study. And there must be an exam coming up, because lately he’s been showing up with even more books than usual, and suitcases under his eyes instead of bags. He’s crabbier, too, which Kirishima didn’t think was possible and is honestly impressed by. By this point he has unofficially become the only one willing to serve him, but this wild-eyed evolution of Problem Customer into Demon Customer From Hell just clinches it.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Kirishima says, when he brings over Blasty’s third espresso in as many hours. It’s Saturday, usually Blasty’s day to sit and gaze out the window with one of his more pensive death glares, but today he’s entombed himself in a mountain of notes and textbooks. Kirishima nudges aside a few notebooks to make room for the cup.

“Maybe you should go fuck yourself with a rake,” says Blasty, without looking up from the violent strokes of his pen. “Touch my stuff again and I’ll kill you myself, shitty hair.”

Watching from behind the counter, Amajiki wheezes with secondhand horror. Kirishima peers at the crowded table. “Hey, where’s your bento?”

Blasty slams his pen down. “Was I not clear enough, you moron? Fuck off! Leave me alone!”

Kirishima raises his hands in surrender. Blasty’s mouth opens as if to say something else, but nothing comes out. Maybe he’s realized he’s gone a step too far. They stare at each other for a beat, and then his jaw snaps shut. He jerks his head back to his books and Kirishima retreats to the counter.

“He can’t speak to you like that,” Amajiki says, suddenly stern. He’s always braver on someone else’s account. “I’ll tell Fat Gum, he’ll understand. We don’t have to serve him. You don’t have to take his abuse.”

“The guy’s under a lot of stress,” Kirishima says. It’s overindulgent even for him, but when he glances over his shoulder he sees Blasty wrench his gaze away. “And I think he feels bad.”

Amajiki obviously doesn’t think so, but he says nothing more, which Kirishima appreciates. By closing time Blasty is the only customer left in the shop, still hunched over his books and writing furiously. Kirishima has given him his space, and he hasn’t asked for another coffee. Amajiki is still angry enough to go tell him they’re closing—he’ll even be properly intimidating about it—but Kirishima stops him.

“I’ll lock up,” he offers. Amajiki’s look of disapproval is a blow to Kirishima’s pride, but he stands firm. So Fatgum leaves, and Amajiki leaves, with a sigh and a firm promise that he’ll be on standby if Kirishima needs anything, and then the place is empty and it’s just him, Blasty, and the scritching sound of his pen.

Kirishima takes his time. He cleans up and Blasty keeps studying. He locks the doors and Blasty keeps studying. He sits down at a table across the cafe and gets some of his own homework done, and Blasty keeps studying. Then he goes back to the machines, knowing he’ll have to clean them again, and whips up a special drink. When he’s done, he writes FIGHT ON! where the name should go.

“I don't want your fucking charity,” Blasty says as he sets it down.

“You’ve accepted it so far,” Kirishima points out blandly, gesturing to the very obviously closed cafe. Before Blasty can bite his head off, he continues, “Anyway, don't think of it as charity. Think of it as…an investment.”

“Investment in what?” His eyes are narrowed and very red, both in the iris and the bloodshot sclera.

Kirishima weighs the pros and cons of his next move and decides to go for it. He hazards a wink. “In my future best customer.”

Blasty is unimpressed. Like, fatally unimpressed. Like, it's impressive how unimpressed he looks. Aggressively deadpan. He has to practice that look in the mirror.

But he takes the cup, and when Kirishima peeks at him later, he's smirking at the sharpie message.

Monday morning sees Blasty quiet and terse, but civil. Civil for him, anyway. Kaminari is disturbed.

“What did you do?” he hisses once Blasty bulls out of the shop.

“Nothing.” Even if he barely met Kirishima’s eyes. Not promising.

“Did you fight?”

“No.”

“Did he turn you down?”

“No. Dude, nothing happened.”

Kaminari raises his hands. For a minute they work in silence.

“So if you didn’t get turned down, are you gonna ask him out soon?”

Kirishima hands off an order, and then lets his customer service smile drop. “Now isn’t a good time. I’ve got to give him some space.”

“Okay, but what about all your fortune favors the manly stuff? Isn’t that the reason you got this far in the first place?”

“How far is that? I still don’t know his name.” He can feel Kaminari’s eyes on him, and he tries to rally. Picks up his smile and pastes it back on. “Hey, enough about me. How’s it going with you and Shinsou?”

Kaminari lights up. For the next twenty minutes he regales Kirishima—and the whole cafe—with his loud and maudlin romantic woes, all he’s so hot the bags under his eyes should not be so hot and his dry sense of humor is so hard to read and I think he’s flirting with me but I thought that with Jirou and she and Momo still won’t let me live it down.

Kirishima listens and laughs and offers advice, and he does his job, and he doesn’t think about his grumpy favorite customer even once. Really he doesn’t.

When Blasty comes in on Wednesday, he looks well rested. Kirishima waves before getting back to orders. This is apparently not good enough for Blasty, because he scowls at the people in line and then stalks over to the serving counter and proceeds to glare daggers, like he expects Kirishima to just up and abandon his work to attend to him. Like, yeah, he wants to, but it wouldn’t be right. Even if Blasty scares other customers away from the counter. And even if Kirishima is getting steadily more distracted the longer he stares.

On the third order he messes up, Tetsutetsu intervenes.

“Go on,” he sighs, nudging Kirishima aside as the next customer steps up. “Make it fast, bro.”

Kirishima promises him a meat bun after work and hurries over. “Hey. You’re looking better. Did you ace the test?”

“Obviously.”

“That’s great. Congratulations.”

There’s a stalled moment. Kirishima taps his fingers on the counter. Blasty is visibly grinding his molars.

“Cool, so I’m gonna get back to work, I’ll make you your regular—”

“Last week,” Blasty starts. He bites out each word. “Last week, I was.” He stops, lips pressed tight and bloodless.

“An asshole,” Kirishima supplies.

Blasty hums low in his throat. Or he growls. Either way it’s as close to an admission as Kirishima is going to get, and it clearly took a hilarious amount of self restraint for even that much.

Blasty clears his throat and says, “That drink you made. What was in it?”

Kirishima is a little thrown by the shift. “Xoaxacl chocolate, a little chili powder. I thought you might like an extra kick.”

“It wasn’t half bad.” There’s color along the bridge of his nose. “I’ll take one of those.”

Maybe Kirishima had been more upset by Blasty’s behavior on Saturday than he thought, because now he feels loads lighter, any old hurts dissipating like clouds under the sun. He smiles, and Blasty blinks a lot, the color spreading to his cheeks and his ears and down his throat.

“One special order, comin’ right up!”

Kirishima turns around and reaches for a cup and marker. And then, behind him: “Bakugou Katsuki.”

He pauses. “Sorry?”

Blasty is rubbing roughly at his mouth. His whole face is glowing. “You heard me.”

“Bakugou,” says Kirishima, trying the taste on his tongue. Bakugou, full of plosives and hard consonants. “I love it. It suits you.”

Bakugou’s eyes snap wide, then narrow just as fast. “Why the fuck should I care what you think of my name? It doesn't need your approval, dipshit.”

When Kirishima is finished making his drink, Bakugou snatches it from his hand and whirls on his heel, a dramatic spray of foam following him out. Kirishima tingles where their fingers touched.

Then he watches Bakugou take a deep pull, and he has to go clean the latte machine before he’s murdered by the lethal and lovely line of Bakugou’s throat.

DECEMBER

“Y’know, I still don’t know what you study.”

“Probably because it’s none of your business.”

“Right. Except how it kind of is literally my business, since I let you study here, in my place of work, after we’ve closed.”

This has become their ritual. On Saturdays Bakugou stay past closing, sometimes doing schoolwork, sometimes helping clean up, sometimes just chatting. He never stays past nine thirty—Kirishima has learned that he likes to turn in before ten every night, which is bizarrely adorable—but it doesn’t matter. Any amount of time with him is always going to feel like a blessing, and it’s never going to feel like enough.

“You’re not doing me any favors, shitty hair, get that thought out of your empty skull this instant.”

“Sure, sure.”

Kirishima finishes cleaning up. Once the last table is wiped down he sits heavily across from Bakugou, happy to finally be off his feet. His eyes feel swollen, too big for his skull. His grades have yet to pick up despite the extra hours of studying he’s been putting in. He presses his knuckles into his eyes for a moment of relief.

“I’m a med student.”

He blinks the colorless starbursts from his eyes. Bakugou, across from him, comes into focus: his head is still down, his gaze still fixed on his book. Sometimes he wears glasses, thick dark frames that Kirishima loves, and today is one of those days. He grins.

“No shit! You’re going to be a doctor?”

“A surgeon.” Some color rises in his ears; he looks pleased. Maybe because of how awed Kirishima sounds. But why wouldn’t he? Anyone working to help people is worthy of admiration, and manly as hell.

“Dude, that’s awesome. I’m studying to be a nurse.”

The corner of Bakugou’s mouth twitches upward. “Nurses are badass.”

“I think so. You a doctor, me a nurse. I bet we’d make a good team.”

Bakugou scoffs, even as pink starts to pool in his collarbones. Kirishima still doesn’t get why certain things make him flush, but he’s happy to learn. He rests his cheek in his hand and tries not to smile too dopily. “Y’know, for a med student you sure drink a lot of coffee. You know too much of this stuff is terrible for you, right?”

“I’m going to tell your boss you said that and get you fired.”

“That’s really not how it works.”

Bakugou’s glare is magnified by the glasses. He takes a long, aggressive sip of his drink—the strength it takes Kirishima not to burst out laughing is Herculean, truly, with the slurping and the deliberate eye contact and all, because only Bakugou could turn coffee into an intimidation tactic. Then he says, “Whatever. I'm invincible.”

Kirishima bursts out laughing. Bakugou grumbles beneath his breath, but his threats delight Kirishima more than they intimidate; Kirishima’s laughter seems to confound Bakugou more than it enrages. They're good for each other, is his sudden thought, and it thrills him.

He’s a little teary and a little breathless by the time he gets himself under control. Through the blurry smudge of his eyelashes he sees Bakugou. Then he’s breathless all over again.

Bakugou’s face—Kirishima wouldn’t say it softens. But there is a softness there, in his unsmiling mouth, in his brow, stern but smooth. He’s just—watching him, steadily. Intent.

“Hey,” Kirishima says, and it’s easy, it’s so easy. “Make sure you come in on Christmas, alright? I get out early, and I want to ask you something.”

And maybe he expects Bakugou to fluster, or to scowl, or to demand to hear his question then and there. He doesn’t.

“Fine,” he says, and he just keeps watching. Like he wouldn’t mind watching Kirishima forever.

Maybe Kirishima’s projecting a little.

Bakugou would probably tear him a new one for spreading the news around, but Kirishima is too excited to keep it to himself.

“I’m happy for you,” says Amajiki, sounding worried but sincere.

“Congrats, man,” says Tetsutetsu, and then they have a celebratory arm wrestling match.

Kaminari is a little more suspicious. “So you haven’t asked him out yet?”

He’s standing on a stepladder, hanging Christmas decorations while Kirishima mans the counter. Bakugou has already stopped by for his morning coffee, and it’s been a slow morning since. The few people trickling in have been couples, sharing hot chocolate and slices of cake. Kirishima has spent an inordinate amount of time daydreaming about similar situations. In his head it’s usually a little less cozy and a little more explosive, but he likes it better that way.

“Technically no.” He tops the latte he’s working on with extra foam. “I asked him to come by on Christmas, and I’m going to ask him out then. I’ve got a plan.”

Kaminari doesn’t need to know how nebulous said plan is. At the moment it includes things like Step One: Bribe With Spicy Food (Addendum: Can Christmas Cake Be Spicy?), Step Two: Sweep Bakugou Off His Feet, Step C: Profess Manly Adoration, Step N: Kiss Just Like, Wow, A Whole Bunch. The truth is he’s always been more of an in the moment kind of guy. But he likes Bakugou—he really, really likes Bakugou. He doesn’t want to screw everything up with an impulsive word or action. And if that means taking precautions he wouldn’t usually bother with, he’ll take them.

“I dunno, man,” says Kaminari. “Midoriya and Momo are all about plans. You…not so much.”

Kirishima decides Kaminari knows him too well. “Any progress with Shinsou?”

That does the trick. Kaminari brightens like the bunch of LED Christmas lights in his arms. He practically swoons, the stepladder protesting beneath him. “Dude, you have no idea. I took a leaf out of your book, just asked him straight out, and lemme tell you I knew Hitoshi was hot but I’ve never seen anyone blush so cute in my whole damn life—”

He swoons a little too hard, arms wheeling, and Kirishima barely vaults the counter in time to catch him. There’s some polite applause from the handful of patrons in the shop. Kirishima and Kaminari bow, and then Fat Gum tells them to quit fooling and get back to work.

Kirishima does not spend the rest of his shift thinking about how Kaminari called Shinsou Hitoshi. And he definitely does not think about calling Bakugou by his first name on Christmas.

He does, however, scrawl Katsuki on no less than three to-go cups.

Kirishima does not see Bakugou on Christmas. He does not see much of anyone, or anything, on Christmas. He can barely see his own hand in front of his face, which could be the delirium brought on by the fever or the copious amount of sweat rolling into his eyes, which is also brought on by the fever.

As badly as he wants to push through the pain, not even he is hardheaded enough to try and drag his sorry carcass to work. It’s hard enough to drag his sorry carcass to the bathroom and back. He tries to text his coworkers (Tamaki? Kaminari? Tetsutetsu? He can’t recall who’s working today, so he texts all of them) and asks them to apologize to Bakugou, but the characters are swimming in his vision and he’s pretty sure the result is gibberish. Which means it’s over. He’s going to be laid up in bed for weeks, he’s going to fail his finals, and come next semester he’ll have a new class schedule, and he’ll never see Bakugou again. He’s blown it. Romance is dead.

Someone’s knocking on the door. He doesn’t answer it right away—it takes a minute for him to peel the rhythm of the pounding door from the pounding in his head. It takes a minute longer for him to stumble up and open it.

“You look like shit,” says Bakugou. He’s standing there looking like god’s gift to the earth, even scowling, even bundled in hat and scarf and mask, even laden down with groceries. Kirishima is pretty sure he’s hallucinating.

“Well? Are you letting me in or what?”

Kirishima lets him in. Bakugou toes out of his boots and then he plants himself in the middle of the room, jerking his head this way and that, taking it all in: the kitchenette-slash-living room, the card table turned dining table, the clashing red and hot pink interior design. “This place is a shitshow,” he declares. “No roommate?”

“She’s spending Christmas with friends.” More specifically, Mina had left last night with the implication that if Kirishima’s date went well he was free to come back to the apartment. There was a lot of obnoxious winking and innuendos. It was sweet of her, if a little mortifying and inappropriate, and in the end entirely wasted when he woke up with the mother of all migraines.

Bakugou drops the groceries on the table and starts shucking his outerwear. The hat, the scarf, the puffy coat. Kirishima sways in place and watches him. He’s wearing a red button down, and beneath that a black tee with the Punisher logo on it. It’s just a little bit dressier than his everyday attire. Is this what he would have worn on their date? If Kirishima had ever gotten to ask him properly? He sighs, forlorn.

Bakugou turns back to him, and they stare at each other. They keep staring at each other until Bakugou reaches past him to close the door, which was still hanging open over his shoulder. Whoops.

“God damn, you’re out of it. Get back to bed, loser.”

He cuffs him over the head, except it’s less of a cuff and more of a ruffle, exasperated and fond. So Kirishima totters back to bed. Hallucination or not, he’s happy to see Bakugou one last time.

When he wakes up, it’s to the rich, earthy kinds of aromas he associates with home cooking, if not necessarily his home. His first thought is that Mina came home early, but she’s just as useless in the kitchen as he is. So either a burglar broke in to cook for him or he wasn’t having an incredibly vivid fever dream, as he’d previously assumed. Which means Bakugou is really, actually, truly in his home.

The door to his bedroom bangs open while he’s wrestling with the sweat-soaked sheets. Bakugou is armed to the teeth with soup, water, tea, pills, and towel, all laid out and puffing steam on a serving tray that Kirishima doesn’t remember owning. He raises an eyebrow at Kirishima’s ogling and knees him in the side.

“Sit up. You have to eat and rehydrate.”

The tray lands on Kirishima’s lap, and then the water and the pills are pushed into his hands. While he’s downing both, Bakugou makes a sour face at the state of his room, and bustles out to change the bedside wastebasket for a clean bag. Kirishima would be more humiliated if he weren’t so happy to see him at all.

When Bakugou comes back he’s got a thermometer in one hand and the card table’s folding chair under an arm. He kicks the chair open, spins it around, and slings one leg over the side. He brandishes the thermometer like a weapon of war.

“Open.”

The thermometer jabs under Kirishima’s tongue. He winces only a little, and his voice comes out nasally and muffled and a little wondering. “I can’t believe you’re really real.”

“What else would I be?”

“I don’t know, a dream? A near death hallucination?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Shut up until I get your temperature.”

A few seconds later the thermometer chirps. Bakugou snaps it up and glares at it, and then something in his face relaxes.

“Barely a fever. You’ll live, moron.”

Kirishima asks, “How’d you know where I live?”

“Your dumbass coworker said you were sick. I threatened him bodily harm until he gave me your address.” Like it’s so obvious. Which, yeah, maybe it is. Probably Kaminari, who is both susceptible to Bakugou’s intimidation tactics and has been pushing for them to get together. When Bakugou snaps open the damp towel and starts mopping at Kirishima’s sweaty face, grumbling beneath his breath, he decides that he’s grateful.

For the first time he’s realizing how silly his fever induced fears were. He might be down for the count for a few days, but he won’t miss his finals, even if he might fail them. And even if his schedule falls out of sync with Bakugou’s, it’s not like he’ll be gone forever. They have a mutual friend in Midoriya, as Kirishima learned recently. Or else he could just loiter around the cafe until they learn each other’s new schedules. This doesn’t have to be the end at all. Bakugou proved that by coming here.

“Sorry, Bakugou,” he croaks. “I really wanted to be there with you today. Was looking forward to it all week.”

Bakugou dismisses him with a roll of his eyes. He folds his arms across the back of the chair and rests his chin on them. “So? What happened?”

“End of the semester. Bad grades. Finals.” He waves a vague hand to encompass the studying and the stress and the lack of sleep. It probably didn’t help that he ran himself into the ground trying to justify a night off with Bakugou, though he doubts that comes across with his flappy wrist.

“Guess it all caught up to me.” He spoons some soup into his mouth. “Oh my god, this is delicious. You made this?”

“I’m great at everything, obviously.” His mask twists with a frown. “You’re having trouble in school?”

“’M not a genius like you.”

“It’s not about being a genius, it’s about studying habits. You need someone to quiz you, keep you on task.” A pause, nearly short enough to be casual. “I’ll do it.”

Kirishima lowers the bowl he had been tipping over for the last of the broth. “You?”

“What, you think I can’t? I’ll be the best damn tutor you’ve ever seen, shitty hair.” Another pause. This one is more thoughtful.

“What?” says Kirishima.

Bakugou shakes his head. His voice has dropped to a low rumble in his chest. “Never seen you with your hair down. You should chuck all your gel, it’s not so shitty like this.”

“Didn’t think I’d have company to put it up for. I’d have to flip upside down to do it right, I probably would have passed out and died.”

Bakugou snorts. “You’d think a nurse would take better care of himself.”

Kirishima snorts back, with a little more phlegm. “You’d think a doctor would have better bedside manner.”

All of a sudden Bakugou’s scowl is a little less—scowly, than it usually is. More searching. More intense. Their eyes meet for a second too long and it’s like someone is pouring nitroglycerin down the column of Kirishima’s spine.

“Sounds like you want to know more about my bedside manner.”

He’s smirking, and there are so many things—so many things—that Kirishima could say to that. Things that would be smart or things that would be manly or things that would be safe. So many things.

His fever speaks for him. “Well, if you’re offering.”

The smirk falls away and that intensity comes roaring back. Kirishima’s insides ignite. Bakugou rises slowly and doesn’t once blink, and his chair scrapes on the floor, and Kirishima has the thought I hope that doesn’t scratch the wood—

Then Bakugou is kissing him. The rough weave of his mask and the heat of his mouth behind it, like a brand. His open eyes. His hand cradling the curve of Kirishima’s skull. It’s overwhelming and it’s nothing at all, less of a kiss than a touch, less of a touch than a promise. Kirishima clutches at him because he’ll fall away otherwise, he’s hungry and dizzy and unmoored, and he’s got one hand clenched in Bakugou’s shirt and one in his hair and it’s soft, how is it so soft? His heart lurches in his chest.

No no no, not his heart. “Bakugou, back up, I—oh shit—”

He pulls away and flops over the side of the bed, unable to see if his hail mary aim for the wastebasket came through. Only once he’s done tossing his guts does he register the steadying arm around his shoulders. The hand pushing back his hair. It’s warm and square and dry, with callouses on every finger.

“You’re disgusting,” Bakugou says from somewhere above him. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

“You’re the one who just kissed a sick man. What does that make you?”

“Magnanimous as fuck.”

Kirishima laughs. It hurts every part of him, but it’s good. It’s really good.

“I really like you, Bakugou. Like a lot.”

It comes out so easy, just like that day in the cafe. He’s still half upside down and his mouth is still sour. Bakugou’s hand is still in his hair. Through the damp red locks that escape his grip Kirishima can see him, and for the first time since they met, he looks starry-eyed. It is the most amazing feeling in the world, even when Bakugou blinks the stars away and glowers.

“Is that why you wanted me to come by the cafe today? I already knew that, dipshit.”

His voice is dismissive and mocking, but his hand is still in Kirishima’s hair, and his collarbones have flooded pink. It’s just like Bakugou to flirt and kiss him within an inch of his life only to get shy about a little sincerity.

“Yeah. That’s all I wanted to say. I was hoping we could go out and, I don’t know, look at Christmas lights. Bake a cake together. Pelt each other with snowballs or something. I like you a lot.”

Bakugou helps him sit up. At his urging Kirishima rinses his mouth with water and then sips some of the tea. It’s lemony and sweet.

Bakugou demands, “What took you so long? I don’t like idiots who beat around the bush, Kirishima. Didn’t think you were like that.”

Kirishima. He doesn’t think he ever wants anyone else to say his name. “Yeah, Kaminari said the same thing. But I didn’t want to mess things up with you.”

“So you decided to be a dumbass? How’d that work out for you?”

He mulls it over. “The guy I like is seeing me half dead, so that’s embarrassing. On the other hand, the guy I like is taking care of me while I’m sick, which is pretty sweet. Net gain, I think.” He’s heartened by the amused squint of Bakugou’s eyes. “So? Want to go out with me?”

For a long moment, Bakugou doesn’t say anything. He just watches, steady, intent, and his hand weaves slow, thoughtless paths through Kirishima’s hair. Kirishima has never been in love before, but he thinks this must be it. He can’t imagine anything else hurting quite so sweetly.

“I’m not dating anyone while I’m still in school,” Bakugou says. “That would be fucking stupid.”

“Okay. After med school is residency, right? You think you’ll be dating then?”

Bakugou’s expression isn’t starry-eyed anymore, but it’s pretty damn close.

He says, “Stick around and find out.”

JANUARY

A new semester means a new schedule, and Kirishima’s does not match up with Bakugou’s even once. It’s a little bit of a bummer, sure, but he’ll survive.

The last customer of the day leaves the cafe two minutes to closing. Kirishima sighs, cracks his neck, and starts prepping the last drink of the day. He sets it on the counter and then he starts wiping down tables, and when the clock strikes the hour, Kaminari goes to lock the doors.

They burst open before he gets there and Kaminari jumps two feet in the air and falls flat on his back. In strides Bakugou, and Kirishima’s heart flutters even as he stands back and cackles at Kaminari for a solid thirty seconds.

“Kirishima,” Kaminari whines from the floor, “your boyfriend’s being mean to me!”

Bakugou kicks at him. “We’re not dating.”

“Ha! Sure, and I’m not dating an insomniac with a fine ass—okay okay you’re not dating, quit kicking me!”

He does, but only after Kirishima scolds him and entices him away with a drink. He grabs it off the counter and passes it to Bakugou. Then he snatches it back.

“Forgot the name, just a sec!”

“You already know my name,” Bakugou groans, but he follows Kirishima behind the counter with barely a frown. “Hurry up, shitty hair, I don’t have all night to tutor your ass.”

“Tutor your ass,” Kaminari laughs from the floor. Bakugou growls.

Kirishima finds the marker and uncaps it. Before he can start to write, Bakugou threads their fingers together and squeezes hard.

“I can’t write your name with my left hand, Bakugou.”

Bakugou hooks his chin over Kirishima’s shoulder. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Well, Kirishima likes a challenge. The final result is messy, but legible. He garnishes it with a heart. “Here.”

“Stupid,” Bakugou huffs, but he accepts the cup and takes a swig. Then he yanks Kirishima toward the exit, where Kaminari is finally peeling himself off the floor.

“We’re still on for Saturday, right?” he asks, dusting himself off. “Double--”

“If you say double date, I’ll set you on fire,” says Bakugou. “And only if shitty hair here passes his test with flying colors.”

Kaminari endeavors to look contrite--his face wasn’t really built for it--but when Bakugou’s back is turned, he shoots Kirishima a subtle thumbs up and mouths double date. Kirishima returns the favor.

Out on the street it’s cold and biting. Bakugou hisses, and takes another gulp of his drink. Kirishima watches him glance at the name on the side of the cup again. If he pointed out the color in his cheeks he knows Bakugou would say it was the cold, or the heat of the drink, and then he’d punch him for good measure. But Kirishima can see his smile, hard-won and worth it. He can see how he passes a thumb over the shaky black characters, over and over: Katsuki.

#fyeahbnhasecretsanta #my hero academia #kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #boku no hero academia #shinkami #in the background mostly #kaminari denki #amajiki tamaki #tetsutetsu tetsutetsu #fat gum #bnha fic #ran's writing #pointy-hat-witch #fyeahbnha #coffeeshop au #university au

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jess-emurphy · 3 years

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List of things the live action adaptation of Alice in Boderland missed out on that doesn't change the grand plot of things but were pretty neat and I wish they were there. This manga is one if my top five favourites so I'm incredibly passionate about it and anaylse it to shit

These are spoilers for the manga if you want to read the first arc but I will only discuss things that affect season 1 of the show and up to that point in the manga (where the face cards are revealed). Again, these really do not affect the plot considering the show got to the face cards just fine without changing anything major.

I read the manga back when I was like 15? I was in high school and used to read it during classes and was sobbing onto my maths notebook during the seven of hearts game.

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Okay this wasn't a live action thing but in the manga, when Chishiya took down his hood and we saw his face, the comments were calling him ugly 😭😭😭 it was funny as fuck and I'll never forget it.

At the end of the seven of hearts game, Arisu's reward for winning was mutton chops. He burns the whole building down.

Arisu was still in high school in the manga (or at least, just out of it) and Karube actually has to keep telling him and Chota off for drinking at his bar.

The show really missed out on showing Tatta (the man in the cap) and his arc of being a scared young adult who's friend is murdered in front of him, nearly extracting revenge on the man (Last Boss) who did it before deciding he would rather let Last Boss slowly die in a painful way to the fire and save his own humanity. And that was pretty cowardly of them 😤

Aguni getting his scars from the tiger.

Phones work in the world. They aren't used the way the show does. Chishiya actually charges his to listen to music and someone remarks "did that guy join this game just to charge his phone? Ballsy"

Arisu telling Hatter that the seven of hearts card is Usagi's so she could be a higher number rank because he believes shes more deserving of going home.

Arisu using his ability to pretend to not be there like he does in front of his family to hide from the tagger and slow his breathing down.

Chishiya's monologue about why he chose the top floor of the apartment building, show casing how smart he is but not willing to give anyone else that tip.

The part where Chishiya has to pick up all the cards he threw and Mira comes over like "yo i'll help short ass" 😩

The first game was actually set in a festival setting where their goal was to answer questions.

The tunnel game set in the highway did not include Usagi or Arisu. It was a side chapter featuring a new guy who's motive to survive was to get back to his girlfriend who had only ever been abused by men. He didn't want to die because if he did, she would think he left her just like every other man in her life and it was actually very heart breaking. The game itself was fairly the same except the end part was a bomb, not a flood.

During when Hatter is shot, Number Two disappears and is presumed dead. In the show, he's alive. And in the manga he was Number Three.

Aguni was Number Two. There was no voting in the manga, he was just automatically Number One.

Asahi in the manga, while feling guilty, allows the witch hunt game to go on because she despisea how humans have become, killing each other mercilessly. She only ever sacrifices herself because Arisu gave her hope that there is good people.

Usagi hanging onto the side of the hotel, back fliping off, catching the ledge and kicking a man unconcious who was standing by the open window.

In the tagger game in the show, the twist was there was a second tagger. In the manga, the twist was that there was a second gun. Karube got injured because he jumped off the side of the building, caught the ledge but fucked up his stomach.

Aguni was never in that game. He never met Karube or Arisu before.

This one I can't remember completely but I believe Karube finds out about the beach via a car radio.

In the manga Arisu never got to see Karube one last time.

Shibuki's three of hearts game where she essentially gave up, was willing to die but that in fact saved her life.

Thee game where Arisu proves himself worthy to An happened without Arisu. That scene was there to actually show case An's intelligence all on her own.

In the manga, we actually get to see what type of games everyone specialises in. Arisu specialises in hearts, Usagi spades, Hatter spades, Kuina clubs and Chishiya diamonds, to name a few.

In the manga, Arisu played one other hearts game before the beach (this could be wrong but the actual chapters never stated a timeline). It was a four of hearts.

DOUDOU? WHERE IS MY BOY DOUDOU? The live action really said fuck Doudou he doesn't get to be in this sorry.

Tatta's Lamborghini and him being a mad man, driving it around 😭 as he should

Kuina showing off her boobs to the men because they were being transphobic 😤

Between the ten of hearts and the arrival of the face cards, three days passed. During these three days, the characters partied, did golf, goofed around, tried to enjoy life and figure out what happens next. A whole interaction happens here with Arisu and Usagi and it kept cutting to another character who was travelling around (and some stuff about a dead deer and friendships or something who knows I was distracted by a crying Arisu my poor boy). Arisu also has a thing where he tells Usagi to never leave him and it broke my heart.

Kuina and Chishiya? They might as well be enemies. She HATES him for what he did to Arisu and Usagi. He's actually not seen with anyone during those three days before the card faces.

Niragi ugly af in the manga.

I hadn't read the manga in years since it ended but I was convinced that Kuina was a Black Japanese woman BUT NO SHE JUST SUDDENLY CHANGES SKIN TONES AFTER TRANSITIONING. I had to do a double take when rereading the manga. I know it's supposed to be a tan but It had been years okay cut me some slack.

Hatter's gravity defying hair. This changes no plot. I just thought his hair was very funny and I would lpve to see an actual attempt in real life.

Okay thats literally all I can think of. Overall, I was happy with the live action and the literally only thing I was upset at is the fact they cut a whole character out. He may show up to season 2 but with the way the show went, I doubt they'll go back in time just to show off a random four of hearts game that this character was in with Arisu. I wish we got that cute hug with them of Arisu being tackled by this scrawny 16 year old. 😤

#imawa no kuni no alice #alice in borderland #ryohei arisu #karube #chota #usagi yuzuha #chishiya shuntaro #kuina hikari #nigari #morizono aguni #Hatter #imawa no kuni no alice manga

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morimallow · 3 years

Note

hi! can i ask a NSFW alphabet for miya osamu? tysm >.<

NSFW Alphabet (Osamu Miya)

Did not proof read as usual, feel free to correct any errors.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

FUCK. He learned from the best after all. Well, not really? Even before Kita came to picture, Osamu had always taken care of you every after sex without fail. He knows he’s rough sometimes so he gives you time to relax your body and to help you, he’d give you a massage and God, does his hands to wonders. He’d prepare your bath and carry you there like a princess, leaving a wet kiss on your lips before telling you to wait for him because he’ll go cook your favorite food as s reward for taking his cock so well as always.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Osamu loves his man tiddies, he knows he still has the body of a fucking god and you aren’t complaining when he lowkey flexes his muscles in front of you. He loves how your hands move from his shoulders to his pecs, lightly pushing him but not really. Also, he loves your hands and thighs ─ how sensual your touches are and the way your thighs are just perfect in his hands, not the kind that it fits in his but the way it feels so soft and right.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man comes so much you’re afraid you’re literally milking him dry. He purposely forgets to buy condoms because he heard you talking to your friend how heavenly it feels when he fucks you raw. What he doesn’t forget to buy are your pills and also Plan Bs just in case, he thinks. When he feels he’s coming, he’d flip you over, pull out, and come on your back and ass. One time, he bit the part of your butt cheek not covered in cum and murmured, “Cinnamon,” under his breath. He comes in you just as many times as he pulls out.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He fingered someone with Nutella and licked her insides clean, at least he thinks he did. I don’t really know why I thought of this. The girl broke up with him the next day because an ant bit her. I’m so sorry for her, really.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ya’ll think Atsumu is the sex god and the fuckboy between the both of them but noooooo. Osamu Miya may have had lesser partners but he’s slightly better in bed than Atsumu, as the latter had explained once. It just comes to naturally to him, yeah? He’s flexible in his kitchen, fingers and wrists always moving in a graceful manner. And his hips, fuck. Believe me when I say he has never bumped into any furniture in his life. He sways his hips to avoid those and ain’t that fucking hot.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He told me he doesn’t have one. That info about him having a hard time thinking of what he would want to eat as his last meal and that he doesn’t have favorites, yes, it also applies here. As long as it feels good for the both of you, then positions don’t matter.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

This Miya compares everything he sees, does, experiences to food. He’d say your hole is like that of a gaping fish’s mouth whenever you squeeze him good. He’d say your walls are so silk like tofu. He’d chomp on your ass cheeks like how Atsumu chomps on his extra-large serving of onigiris. Reading this, it might seem like sex with him is awkward but no. The way he delivers those words rolls off his tongue so smoothly you just want to be the best food he has ever tasted.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Trims once every two weeks and keeps his balls absolutely hairless because he likes you to suck them good every once in a while. His pubes are in a dark shade of brown so yes, it matches his original hair color.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He matches how sensual your hands are with his own. He wants to make you feel loved and appreciated just by touch. He places kisses all over your body, bites your shoulder, nibbles your earlobes, and finally, he gives you the best kiss on your forehead you can’t do anything but to just dip your head in his chest.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

You guys have that connected dildo and fleshlight and he always sends videos to you whenever and wherever. He just can’t stop himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

You guessed it right because the first one I thought of is food play. Typical but that’s just how he is.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

I’M SO CLICHÉ BUT FUCK IT. Kitchen, of course, but just the one in your house and not the kitchen in Onigiri Miya but he doesn’t mind fucking you inside his office though.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He’s so fucked up when he realized he got hard just seeing you eating a banana. You didn’t know that time but when you knew about this, you’d eat at least two bananas every day and you’d purposely eat it sensually in front of him when you want to get dicked. After his realization, he observed how sexy you eat every food, how your cheeks are full, how your mouth opens and closes.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He could never do a knife play with you or with anyone because he has this urge to cook whenever he holds a knife so if you don’t want him making you into a human sushi, don’t bring this up ever again.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This greedy man prefers receiving and absolutely loses his shit when you suck his balls so good, he wants to come on your face. In the giving aspect, he knows your weak spots so coming from him just eating you out is so easy.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I said this before and I’ll say it again: We all have these two sides but Osamu leans more on the former! It might seem like he’s all taking and taking in your relationship but he knows you like that as much as he does. He’d usually go slow and sensual when he’s stressed. Might’ve been better if he just slept off his tiredness but he insists on having long foreplays and he rarely sleeps during sex.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves it so much he wants to rail you in every corner of his office, the kitchen in your newly-bought house, in the dressing room ─ he’s more subtle than his twin but they’re both monsters in sex, no doubt.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He even fucked you in his office in the grand opening of his new branch with the door open for his staff to see. Of course, he’s always game to experiments as long as he can fuck you senseless in the end.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He lasts longer than Kita by just one round on average. Come on, the man cooks all the time, manages his own business, always eats rice, of course his workouts are hardcore and that’s where his stamina comes from aside from playing volleyball in high school.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You guys own the connected and personalized fleshligth and dildo set.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Osamu is such a fucking tease. He cooks naked when he’s in the mood but wants you to initiate things, firm ass only for you to see. Comparing you to food isn’t only for when you guys fuck but he’d whisper things in your ear when you’re out in public. He’s a sadist, he wants you to beg for him and when you do, he’d just go faster.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He never shuts up during sex. He makes sure someone always hears you to let them know you’re having sex and he’s not afraid of moaning out the pleasure he’s feeling. He knows you love the sounds he makes; he knows it himself that it’s hot.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He presses his forehead against yours and looks at you in the eyes as he comes.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Broad shoulders, toned torso, man tiddies, firm ass, everything about him is perfect and his cock is, too ─ right length, enough thickness to stretch your aching hole, and his inner thighs always sport scratch marks.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He literally fucks you anywhere and everywhere, that kind of explains this part.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He takes his time in aftercare just like how he takes time to make you feel loved in every aspect and he doesn’t stop cleaning you up and making you comfortable even if you fell asleep in the tub or while he was giving you a massage. He will only fall asleep when he’s certain that you’re satisfied and well.

#haikyuu x reader #miya osamu #osamu miya #osamu headcanons #osamu hcs #osamu scenarios #character alphabet

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elvenladysakura · 3 years

Text

~Chaar Kadam~

Pawn

He is like sea. Ever changing, thousand storms hidden beneath sleek waves. Vast, deep, deadly yet calm and soothing - when he wants to be. Kuwar Veer Pratap Singh is a sea, that Amrit suddenly finds herself stranded in the middle. His deceptive calmness hides a trench beneath, depth of which none has ever tested. She doesn't want to tread these waters, but the choice is between diving and drowning. Isn't that the choice of every life?

Amrit paces the length of her room. Door locked and lights dimmed. The foolishness of her actions makes her inwardly cringe, who was she fooling with this pretence of sleep when with each step her deceptively elegant chains chime.

"Chun Chun Chun" He had said. "As long as I keep hearing their ring, my worries will cease."

Chun Chun Chun

The anklets chime now, mocking her as if they were an extension of the wicked man who had them made. Those anklets could not be undone, she recalled realizing that with a sneering Veer over looking her. She'd rather cut them off her feet -

The sharp knock scatters her thought. Amrit stops just as the door rattles.

"I know you are not sleeping," Veer's voice filters through the door. He doesn't sound very pleased. Good, Amrit thinks savagely. Let him stay awake all night, listening to his favorite Chun Chun!

"Amrit!"

She has the urge to stomp her feet and irritate him further, but Amrit knows how to choose her battles. Veer has that unassuming wickedness of a naughty child, who'd do the most unexpected thing to get his way. Instead she goes and unlocks the door.

"What?" Tonight, she doesn't have the patience to entertain his tantrums. Amrit had pleaded a headache to get out of the dinner debacle, in fear that it would turn somewhat similar to the breakfast drama just that morning. She was annoyed, hungry and on the top of it bound in elaborate gold chains of the kuwar's choosing. At least she had to have the privilege to snap at someone.

Veer raised his brows, looking down at her from his impressive height.

"Dinner kar lo, humare saath," he says. "It's all been set up in the room, we are not expected down at the table with everyone."

She makes a move to walk past him which he prevents with a hand on the door frame. His eyes are burning when they return her gaze.

"Keep me waiting, next time I'll break open the door." He bites out menacing words against her ear as if they were a soft caress. Looking over his shoulder Amrit notices the servants bowing out of the room, the dinner arranged in a corner. Veer steps away as soon as they shut the door and mentally shaking her head at his antics, Amrit goes to the table set up for the two of them.

"Bina khaye sone wale logon ko, ab badi jaldi hai khane mein," Veer taunts from behind. "Stop!" He says sharply. Unwillingly, Amrit turns to look at him, wondering what new play he has thought up now? Was he going to taunt her with food next? Dangle a paratha in front of her like a carrot in front of a donkey? Veer shakes a finger at her in silent no no. With long strides he joins her at the table and pulls out the chair for her.

"Ladies wait for their accompanying gentleman to pull out their chair," he says offering her the seat with an elaborate gesture.

"Why? Woh kudh nahi kar sakthe?" She asks sarcastically.

Veer pinches the bridge of his nose before pointing an accusatory finger at her.

"Yahi yahi problem hai tum ladkiyon ki! When someone is doing a good deed, can't you just keep back and let him do it? No, you want to show your nari shakti instead!"

Amrit plops down on the chair and looks up at him expectantly.

"What is all this Kuwar sahab?"

Veer takes his own seat and looks at her pointedly.

"Training," he elaborates. "Aaj se, we will have dinner here in the room. Just you and me. I will teach you Rani ma's table etiquette to it's last t.

"Etiquette doesn't end with a t." Amrit points out. "Kiyun? Are you embarrassed on my behalf? I did tell you Kuwar sahab, I'm not the right girl for you. Shukar hai aap ko samajh aaya, dher hi sahi!"

"Pooch nahi raha hoon madam, batha raha hoon," Veer tells her as he places a plate before her and starts piling it up with food. "I don't need your opinion on it. I'm telling you how it's going to happen. You will practice during dinner - I'll see your improvement during breakfast with everyone. It may be a pretence, but you are my wife out there. My other half so to speak. I'd rather at least one half is spared of Rani ma's criticism." He shakes his head at some dark thought and serves himself. "Between you and me, I'm the disappointment - you, you are supposed to be perfect, behetareen, unparalleled - such that, Rani ma could never find one who is your better. You are my victorious move against her, my trump card."

His eyes gleam with a madness that fills her insides with a chill. Amrit realizes that she is unwillingly made a pawn in this battle between mother and son. She had no choice but to keep moving forward and the man behind her - dictating her moves - she wasn't certain if he was sane.

"Hmm," Veer says self satisfied. "Shuroo kiya jaayein."

He was a relentless teacher. Amrit wonders how Rani Sahiba thinks less of this son of hers when he was as tenacious as she was.

"So, as we eat - we'll talk about Pakistani prisoners."

Amrit's fork slips. Veer corrects her grip on it again and raps on her knuckles with the back of his spoon.

"Dyaan kahaan hai tumhara?" He admonishes and cuts her savoury roll into small pieces himself. "You can't keep watching your cutlery as if you are performing a surgery on your food. There will be conversation around which you have to participate in -"

He plucked one piece on his fork and brought it to her mouth. "Learn to multitask."

Amrit swallows the bite just to shut him up.

"What about Pakistani prisoners?" She asks.

"There's a list of those who were recommended to be released under Rani ma's campaign scheme. Want to check and see if your aashiq is among them?"

He pulls out a file from nowhere and flips it open. The smile he gives at her eagerness to reach for it is condescending.

"I've heard dogs learn tricks better when they are given reward treats - aaj dekh bhi liya."

Amrit ignored the insult in favour of checking that precious document. It was the culmination of all her efforts. She won't let a petty insult ruin it. Veer watched her in silence for a moment as she reads through the file.

"What will you do when you get him out?" He muses aloud.

"Nothing. He knows how to live his life."

Veer chuckles darkly.

"You want me to believe you won't want to go to him? That you won't run away?"

"Do you play chess Kuwar sahab?"

"Why? You want to learn that next?" He retorts.

Amrit shakes her head. Returns to her food and manages - perfectly - to take a bite from her fork.

"The first rule of any battle is to trust your enemy to do the worst and your soldier to do the best. You have placed me on your side Kywar sahab, you have no choice but to believe I will do my best. If you doubt your own soldier - your opponent will benefit."

For a moment Veer says nothing, then his face breaks into a deceptively bright smile.

"Shukar hai," he says. Shukar hai aap ko samajh aaya, dher hi sahi!" He pays back in her own words, adding his signature sarcasm to it. "You are my soldier. Don't try to be my queen." He offers her another bite. "I've learned my lesson of trusting women. You are left with nothing if you depend on them. Rani ma. Anaita. Tum. All you women know is to disappoint. Ab aur nahi - now I decide the rules of this game."

"Kuwar sahab -"

She jumps at the sound of the door opening. In comes Rani Sahiba, her face a mask of indifference. Veer looks at her annoyedly.

"I'm having serious doubts about your manners Rani Ma," he greets. "Zara dimaag mein zoor daliyein, somewhere - someone might have taught you something about not entering rooms of newly married couples without knocking?"

To his credit Rani sahiba doesn't even flinch. Amrit feels her face burning. She looks away. Rani sahiba being Veer's mother has the nerve to smile.

"You didn't come for dinner. I wanted to talk. It cannot wait." She says pleasantly.

"Kahiyein," Veer mimics her pleasantness. "I'm sure you took the trouble to come all the way up to deliver some shok bhara samachaar!"

"Since you are insisting Veer that I give your wife," she throws a dark look at Amrit. "All due respect and status of a daughter in law of this royal family...I have arranged for that one ritual you missed to force upon us." She pauses for dramatic effect. "It cannot happen that a new daughter in law has joined the family and the newly married couple as you so eloquently put do not seek blessings from our kuldevi? I have arranged a kuldevi pooja for you and bahu. You should prepare to leave tomorrow."

The chill in her smile and the way Veer had suddenly gone very still tells Amrit all she needs to know about this upcoming veneration. The woman has her son's cruel streak, for her eyes flashes with victory at the ghost like pallor in Veer's face. Amrit has the urge to reach out and take his hand - a misplaced emotion that she quickly stomps on. This is the man who made her wear those anklets. She's not going to forget that.

"Kiyun, you have a problem Veer?" Rani sahiba asks sweetly.

"Nahi." Veer's voice is little too high, little too cherry. "Of cause I have no problem." He looks at his mother, his eyes reddening, his fists clenched. "So you'll be going with us too, won't you Rani Ma? Or do you have a problem?"

"Of cause. I - I will." Her voice falters and Veer's fist tightens.

"Of cause," he says. "Of cause."

He rises from the table abruptly.

"If you could finish me off in the process I'm sure you won't think twice to poison your own food. Aap kha lijiye Amrit, humari bhook mitt gayie."

Throwing those last words as if he was spitting out the said poison, Veer left Amrit staring up at the sweet yet cruel face of a supposedly benevolent woman.

#cross ship #mini fic #chaar kadam #kiyun utthe dil chhod aaye #veer #Amrit #Amveer #redefining cannon #mixed up narrative

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aizawaorkuroo · 4 years

Text

on the house (chapter 1) - honey cinnamon latte

Ship: Yagi Toshinori x reader

Rated: G

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: All it took was one decision. One small, spur-of-the-moment decision that set off chain reactions. One little, free drink changed your life. It led you to the kindest man you've ever met. Yagi Toshinori.

Warnings: none for now! but smut in later chapters!

AN: Reader has a minor healing quirk! Highkey nervous about posting my writing for the. first time on this blog, but uhhhhh, so be it. Also my first time writing bhna 🥺 Feautres two original characters!

OTH Masterlist

______________

Cool, morning light pours through the large windows of Sweet Bean Cafe. You stifle a yawn as you wait for your cup of coffee to finish brewing. Save for the hypnotic dripping into your mug, silence fills the cafe as you watch the world wake up.

You’ve worked here for quite a while now, but this was still one of your favorite moments of the day. It’s as if a sense of peace weaves its way through the city, despite whatever damage was done over the night. You tear your gaze away from the outside world to fix your coffee. You shut your eyes and inhale deeply, the scent sending a jolt down your spine. You were going to finish this cup before the morning rush, so help you, god.

You sip your drink and continue to watch the city sleepily awake. You finish your cup and look at the cat clock on the wall. 5:40. A jolt of panic seizes you. Twenty minutes before the cafe opens. You turn to look back at the empty kitchen behind you and let out a sigh. Still just you. If Aiko and Suga are any later there’s going to be hell to pay. You’re not paying them to sleep in. You’re sure as hell not paying them to leave you alone during the morning rush.

Anxiety prickles at your stomach as you watch the minutes tick on by. You needlessly adjust the display of baked goods you had already made and set out. Normally Suga would be doing this, and your nose scrunches up at the thought. As you lean on the counter thinking about no other employees would work the opening shift, you hear the back door slam open. Your head dips, and you let out an exhale.

“IT'S NOT MY FAULT! I SWEAR!” Aiko’s bell-like voice rings out through the cafe. You turn and cross your arms, quirking a brow at her. Both of your late employees are standing in the kitchen by the back door. Aiko’s hair is tied back haphazardly, her horns and skin a bright cherry red. She’s breathing heavily, and she drops into a nearby chair. Suga doesn’t look much better, as he leans against the counter, trying to maintain his composure. You roll your eyes.

“I truly thought you were both going to leave me alone for the busiest shift,” you say, faux worry dripping off your words. Suga turns to look at you, a small twinkle in his eye.

“We would never,” he gasps, holding his hand over his chest in fake shock. “There’s nothing crueler than being left alone to open.” Aiko rises to her feet and nods in agreement with a laugh.

“Left alone, to open? You must think very little of us.” False sincerity floods her tone, and you bark out a laugh.

“Okay, okay you brats. Get ready to open.”

While the three of you had mainly been joking, the morning rush is no joke. Mustufu was a busy city. Not only was it full of everything a regular city had, but Mustufu also boasted the esteemed UA High School, and with it came all sorts of people.

You unlock the front door and wait behind the register as you watch the seconds go by on the clock. 5, 4, 3, 2, - a bell rings as the front door opens. You smile warmly at your first customer.

“Good morning! Welcome to Sweet Bean Coffee! What can I get you?”

______________

The first thirty minutes is fine. It lulls you into a false sense of security. It tells you that this is fun, you like this job. But it’s the next hour that always gets you. You and Aiko work the front, while Suga handles the kitchen and baking. Owning this cafe had always been a dream of yours, but it had come at the cost of a lot of hard work.

Paying off your debt had come at the cost of oven burns, scalding coffee, and many sleepless nights spent baking. While you loved to tease them, Aiko and Suga were absolute gifts, and they celebrated with you when you properly owned Sweet Bean Cafe. But it’s moments like this that remind you that the work isn’t done. Actually running this cafe takes time and effort.

The bell rings and you hear Aiko squeal in excitement. You glance at the clock. 7:30. Ah, right.

You turn to greet your regular customer with a smile.

“Good morning Mr. Aizawa! What can I get for you?” He grunts in greeting.

“A black coffee.” The usual order. You can’t stop the small smile that tugs on the corners of your mouth. As you count out his change, Aiko hands him his coffee and beams at him. The first time the Erasure Hero showed up at Sweet Bean, Aiko had frozen. She stared, jaw on the ground, at her favorite hero, as he ordered a black coffee.

He had begun to turn up more frequently and thankfully, Aiko no longer stopped functioning in shock. Instead, she gets almost unbearably excited. You hand Aizawa his change and punch his rewards card with a small smile.

“Good news, next one’s free Mr. Aizawa!” He nods before leaving, offering nothing else but an unenthusiastic wave. You take the next customer's order before shaking your head and turning to Aiko.

“I don’t get it Aiko. He’s so, well, not like you at all.” She laughs as she begins to brew another drink.

“I’m not trying to date him or anything! I just think he’s really cool. We’re lucky to have him as a hero,” she says, sounding sincere for once. You hum in agreement at her words.

The morning rush ends before you know it, and the rest of the day begins to slow down. At around 3:00, Aiko chips her goodbyes before rushing out the door to make it to her afternoon classes. With no other employees scheduled for today, it would just be you and Suga. But after the morning shift, it was nothing the two of you couldn’t handle, especially with Suga in the kitchen.

As business slows, you shift to look outside. A stream of cars and people pass by. Everyone with their own stories and dreams. It's impossible to ignore the content that's growing in you. You sigh softly, a warmth settling itself in your chest.

“What’s up, boss?” You turn to look at Suga, giving him a confused look. “You’re, uh, glowing. Gonna bless more beans?” he asks jokingly. You roll your eyes before looking down at your arms. Sure enough, your body is indeed glowing. An exhale makes its way through your lips as you focus on stopping the warmth that’s trickling through you.

“No, I finished blessing the coffee beans this morning while you and Aiko were both probably sleeping.” Suga looks embarrassed and rubs the back of his head. “I’m just feeling…” you trail off and tap the counter, searching for the right word. “...at peace, I suppose.”

He makes a noise of affirmation and gives you a small nod. Wordlessly, he goes back into the kitchen, and you turn to the espresso machine, creativity taking hold of your mind.

As you experiment with different syrups and garnishes, you can’t help but be thankful that your quirk works on food, including coffee beans. Every morning, you would “bless” the beans, as Suga jokingly said. It made the coffee take on minorly healing properties and left your customers feeling good.

The time passes pretty quickly as you mess around with different potential flavors. After deciding that there’s potential in the vanilla and lavender you turn around, and the sky is shifting into soft pinks and calming oranges. You can’t help but grin as the bell rings and you see the Erasure Hero enter the Sweet Bean once again. But he’s not alone. That’s different.

The man next to him is tall and lean, with yellow hair that blooms behind him and frames his face. His face is gaunt, and his cheekbones are so sharp you could cut yourself on them. His bright blue eyes bore into yours, and warmth floods your stomach. He looks both frail and strong, exhausted and wired, intense yet relaxed, a series of oxymorons you could get lost in. Realizing you’re staring, you tear your gaze away from the stranger towards Aizawa.

“One black coffee Mr. Aizawa?” you ask with a brow quirked. He nods.

“Don’t forget, it’s free this time,” he murmurs as you fix his order.

“Ya know, you could get something much nicer,” you laugh. “Your kid, Sato, he uses his free item on one of Suga’s cakes.” He grunts, and as you turn to hand him the cup his nose scrunches.

“This is good enough.” You roll your eyes before turning back to look at the strange man next to him.

“And, uh, what can I get for you?” you ask, trying to ignore the nerves in your stomach. He turns his intense gaze to the menu and grimaces. When he looks back at you, the air feels far too warm.

“There’s a lot of choices. Anything you recommend?” His voice rumbles through the air, sending a small chill down your spine. You feel paralyzed under the weight in his gaze, and you freeze. He shifts uncomfortably as you rack your brain for words.

“I uh, the- the honey cinnamon latte. That one. I like that one.” He chuckles lightly before nodding.

“In that case, I’ll have one of those.” You turn at his response and focus on making his drink. What is wrong with you? This complete stranger is turning you into a mess.

Once his drink is ready, you offer it to him without meeting his eyes.

“Thank you very much, how much is it?” His tone is warm, and it makes you flush. Making a rash decision, you offer him a smile.

“Don’t worry about it, sir! It’s on the house!” you say in what you pray is a regular voice. Your gaze meets Aizawa’s, and you see him glare at you as his face slips into a look of betrayal. He’s been coming here for a while now, and you’ve never offered him something on the house.

Your body heats up as you look back at the tall man in front of you. He looks a little embarrassed at the gesture.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m alright with paying.” He pulls out his wallet, and you scramble in a panic before bowing your head.

“Oh no, it’s alright! You are Aizawa’s guest. He was using his reward, and the coffee he ordered was such a small price so I promise it’s okay!” When you look up, both men are watching you carefully. Your stomach twists in knots as you begin to regret your spur of the moment decision.

There’s gotta be a way out of this. You evaluate your next potential actions, and as you're about to speak, you’re cut out by a cry coming from the kitchen. The mounting tension shifts into a collective confusion.

“Suga?” You hesitantly ask. “Are you alright?”

“Ah, sorry Y/N!” He calls out. “I burned my hand! Do ya think you can help me out?” You grimace and cross your arms.

“We’ve got burn ointment in our first aid kit. Can’t you use that?” Self-conscious blooms in you at the thought of using your quirk in front of customers. Suga crosses the threshold to the storefront, clutching his raw hand.

“I was in the middle of something and the ointment’s gonna take too long,” he whines. You exhale and roll your eyes before you move to hold Suga’s injured hand.

Ignoring the mildly curious stares from behind you, you shut your eyes and focus on the energy inside of you. Warmth floods through your veins before reaching your palms. You open your eyes as your hands begin to lightly glow. Suga shoulders visibly sag as he relaxes. You focus on getting a grip on the warmth and buzz you feel in your hands. The glow fades, and you release Suga’s hand.

“Thanks, Y/N! I’m feeling pumped now!” He clutches his hand before heading back to the kitchen in determination. When you turn around, you meet the curiosity you felt on your back head-on.

“It’s a basic healing quirk. It makes my hands warm and uh, makes the target feel pretty good.” You wring your hands nervously. They both appear to be calculating you, their eyes distant. Aizawa is a teacher at UA, so that makes sense. Perhaps the other man works there too.

“Anyways, please enjoy the drink!” You turn and make yourself busy making unnecessary adjustments to the espresso machine. What has gotten into you?

“Thank you very much, y/n!” The stranger says in a steadfast tone. You freeze at the use of your name, before looking over your shoulder and smiling.

“Of course! Please come again!”

As soon as they exit, you groan and bury your face in your hands. You hear footsteps coming from the kitchen and Suga’s voice wafts through the air gently.

“Are you okay?” You lift your head and look dejected at him.

“I am an absolute fool who has no self-control, Suga,” you bemoan. His eyes widen as your recount of the events turns into a spiral. Oh boy, something certainly had you in a frenzy.

______________

Toshinori furrowed his brows, as he and Aizawa returned to the street. Something had felt off about that entire interaction. As if reading his mind, Aizawa begins to speak.

“That was...strange.” The taller man turns to look at his friend.

“What do you mean?”

“She's not normally so...flustered. I’ve been coming here every morning for a while now, and occasionally after classes end too. She’s normally a lot calmer, less flustered,” he says in a calculating manner. Toshinori hums in response. So it wasn’t all in his head.

“And she’s never given anyone something on the house without a rewards card,” Aizawa continues, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, she said that-” Toshinori begins, but is cut off by Aizawa’s cutting stare.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Do you think she was able to recognize me?” Toshinori asks hesitantly. Aizawa pauses for a second, shakes his head, and begins to walk away. Toshinori turns to look back at you through the window. Something tugs at his heart as he sees you in a panic rambling to the baker, Suga he recalled. He ignores the heat that rushes to his cheeks before turning to catch up to Aizawa.

#yagi toshinori #yagi toshinori x reader #toshinori yagi x you #toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori yagi #my writing #on the house #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha x you #toshinori content #💫.yagi

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cherrybombusa · 3 years

Photo

GROUP THREE - THE CAROUSEL. FAILED.

PLAYERS:

THE HEARTBREAK KID - Casey Russell. THE ARTIST - Sloane Salt. THE CLASSIC - Libby Logan.

EARNED PERKS:

- PUZZLERS: Talk about minds of freakin’ steel! As the only group to solve the puzzle in ONE guess, Casey Russell, and Sloane Salt have both earned themselves a chance to go back and fix it! If a choice happens to go wrong for them in a future event, they will be allowed ONE do-over. Use it wisely!

MEMORABLE MOMENTS:

- Casey fell on his face, and cost the group a time penalty on his run back from the Ferris Wheel. - The Gang only used one try in their puzzle, and succeeded! - Sloane dropped the second key, and failed to disarm the Candy Girl’s bomb. The carousel was destroyed in the blast. - As the one who dropped the key, Sloane was blamed for the destruction of the carousel, and arrested. On the bright side, she saved Libby and Casey from spending a night in jail... But this will come back to bite them all in-game.

When it was put there, he doesn’t know, but the note should be enough to make Casey’s heart skip. There, in the case of his instrument is a folded piece of paper. On its surface? A threat. “COME TO THE NEW CAROUSEL AT 7:30PM SHARP, OR YOUR SECRET IS MINE TO SPILL!” @caseyfm

When it was put there, she doesn’t know, but the note should be enough to make Sloane’s heart skip. There, hidden within her deck of tarot cards is a folded piece of paper. On its surface? A threat. “COME TO THE NEW CAROUSEL AT 7:30PM SHARP, OR YOUR SECRET IS MINE TO SPILL!” @saltofthcearth

When it was put there, she doesn’t know, but the note should be enough to make Libby’s heart skip. There, in her ride locker, is a folded piece of paper. On its surface? A threat. “COME TO THE NEW CAROUSEL AT 7:30PM SHARP, OR YOUR SECRET IS MINE TO SPILL!” @hellolibby

THE NARRATOR: Reunions were supposed to be pleasant occasions, weren’t they? They were supposed to bring feelings of joy, and nostalgia; you were supposed to forget the awkward haze that had plagued your years of high school, and… pretend like the good old days were actually just that. Good. Absence did make the heart grow fonder and all that, didn’t it?

Though, maybe it’s silly to wonder why this little reunion might not be so pleasant. The three of them - Casey, Libby, and Sloane - all walk up to the Carousel at the same time. They all meet each other’s eyes, and though nobody says it, everyone hears the same thought in their head. ‘Fuck.’

LIBBY: "So..." Libby's voice wavers dangerously - her hands shake, cast and all - but somehow she fights every urge she has within herself to run the other direction before chaos can unravel itself all around them. If the Candy Girl wanted them all here, then she doubted running away would be of much use. They were all trapped in Cherry… But this time, it wasn’t ‘small town syndrome’ keeping them back. "Probably safe to assume running into each other here isn't just a coincidence, right?"

SLOANE: There was an urge to reach out to the both of them and pull them in close that Sloane resisted, looking between Libby and Casey. So much for a lull in this Candy Girl's machinations, it seems a week was enough for her to plan something more. She swallowed thickly and then shook her head, folding her arms over her chest nervously. "Well, obviously I wouldn't be here if I didn't need to be." She motioned towards the Carousel. Talk about betraying her cause.

CASEY: Casey follows Sloane's gesture to the carousel. How did wooden horses somehow seem so menacing at night? It was thirty minutes before Mystic Cherry were due to perform and instead he was here about to do...? The sinking feeling in his gut tells him that this is going to lead to no good. "Yeah, this definitely isn't my idea of a warm up before a gig..." he mumbles, before his gaze falls on them both.

THE NARRATOR: There’s no clock to strike the time - nothing to let them know that 7:30-sharp has approached but the faint sound of Dean Hargrove’s voice in the distance is enough to let them know. They're all watching each other, but they can't help but flinch at the intrusion of the sound... And then, yet again ,when Hargrove is cut off by a voice that none of them quite recognize. They’re too far away to hear what the commotion is about, but somehow they know… Their night just took a turn for the worse.

It would have been impressive timing if it weren’t so fucking frightening, but at just that moment, their very own issue of the Cherry Bomb is dropped from the roof of the carousel, and onto it’s platform - near one of the old horses that looked a little too off-it’s-rocker. It’s clearly meant for them… It has to be. The only problem? The Gang is stuck, woefully, behind a locked fence.

There are a few ways to get to it, at least. They could always take their chances climbing the fence to get inside of the Carousel; it doesn’t look that high.

Casey knows the guys who work here… They’re always leaving things lying around. Maybe it might be best to look around for a lanyard someone might have dropped.

Then again, Libby has been treating the Boardwalk like a second home since she was just a kid, and she says there’s always another way in… Maybe they look for a hole in the fence?

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST RETRIEVE THE CHERRY BOMB. DO YOU CLIMB THE GATE [SURVIVOR], LOOK FOR A LANYARD [PROBLEM SOLVING], OR LOOK FOR A HOLE IN THE FENCE [PERCEPTION]?

LIBBY: "Come on, guys, Casey's right. What are the odds that someone didn't drop their key? It's the boardwalk." It's easy to tell when Libby is determined to get something done. For the first time that day, she ties her hair up in a high ponytail - she crinkles her nose as she scans the area. She probably looked a little too much like a 60’s witch from her favorite sick day show - but, she can’t help herself. Libby always felt a little smarter when she was acting like somebody else. "Sloane - you look over by the hot dog cart. Case, you should probably take the space behind the ride, and I'll... Look everywhere else. I guess.

THE NARRATOR: It’s really a wonder the boardwalk even stays open, considering how careless some of the employees can be, but after a few minutes of searching for a stray key, our little slice of the gang finds their hands on one. They unlock the gate with ease and all pile in toward the Carousel; eager to get their hands on that ominous little magazine.

The cover of the Cherry Bomb is collaged with photos of Lux, the inside? Crime scene photos. There’s no pictures of her body, of course - that would be crude, even for the Candy Girl… kind of. But images of the blood soaked into her carpet; still pictures of her bedroom, flaunting a life once lived, those are there. A shot of her suicide note, ‘I’m sorry, I love you,’ and all.

And right there, in the middle of the spread, like a centerfold? A note, written in Sharpie - just for our ragtag little slice of the gang.

CANDY GIRL: GET OUT,,, GET OUT, WHEREVER YOU’RE LOCKED!!!! NOT A FAN OF SMALL SPACES?? I’LL STICK YOU IN A BOX. SOMEONE IS MISSING, BUT I WON’T SAY WHO… FIND THE KEY, AND FIND OUT WHO.

BUT WATCH OUT, WATCH OUT! YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK! LET IT RUN OUT, AND THEY’LL STAY IN THE BOX. WILL THE TIDE COME IN? HMM, MAYBE IT WON’T. OR BETTER YET? MAYBE YOUR FRIENDS WILL FLOAT.

YOU’RE NOT LOCKED IN, BUT IT’S STILL ON YOU! FIND THE KEY, OR THIS FRIEND DIES TOO.

THE NARRATOR: Oh...my. Now, that’s quite the predicament, isn’t it? I suppose we’re at least lucky that the Candy Girl leaves the rules simple, right? Find a key, and maybe she doesn’t kill one of your friends. Maybe.

MAKE A CHOICE: ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED AND LOCKED AWAY IN A BOX. YOU MUST FIND THE KEY TO SAVE THEM. DO YOU LOOK FOR CLUES [PROBLEM SOLVING], OR SEARCH FOR A KEY WILDLY [LUCK - HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARD]?

SLOANE: Despite the rising heart rate that Sloane is sporting after looking through that shiny new issue of the Cherry Bomb and the revelation of this new note, she's standing tall, directing the other two. "Divide and conquer, like before. There have gotta be clues around here somewhere... she dropped this from the roof, maybe there's something else." Sloane's boots carry her around the perimeter of the Carousel as she searches for something, anything to give an indication of who is in the box and a way to find this damn key.

THE NARRATOR: Look for clues. Good idea, Sloane! They split up, but maybe it's better that way.

Libby stays focused on the sharpie scribbled riddle in the ‘zine while the other two search the operator’s booth up and down for something useful. Not so useful, but strange enough to take note of? A cherry red briefcase, shoved into one of the dusty, storage lockers. Not only that… but maybe there’s actually more to the note than they thought.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST FIGURE OUT THE PUZZLE. ADMIN EM IS HERE TO HELP, BUT MAYBE TRY THE WELCOME DESK TO START.

SLOANE: With shaky hands, Sloane reaches for the briefcase, after staring at the damn riddle for what felt like so long the words had ceased to make sense. She input their first attempt at cracking the code: 3142.

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS!

THE NARRATOR: With the numbers all in the correct order, the briefcase pops open rather easily. They find a key, but along with it, our little gang sees a mess of wires, something that looks like a keyhole, a clock ticking down…. And a note.

CANDY GIRL: ANOTHER SURPRISE - AND THIS WILL BE FUN - I GOTTA GO, I GOTTA RUN! BUT BEFORE I DO, I PLANTED A BOMB! AND IT WILL BLOW UP WHEN THE TIMER SAYS ONE! SO, FIND A NEW KEY, TRY OUT THE LOCK! SEE IF YOU CAN DISARM IT - BEAT THE CLOCK! BUT IF YOU DON’T - AND YOU DON’T GO BOOM - THEN ENJOY THE INTERROGATION ROOM!

WHERE TO FIND THE KEY? THAT’S A DIFFERENT STORY. I’M TALL, AND I’M ROUND, AND I’M SLOW, AND I’M BORING! I’M FAR AWAY, SO YOU’LL HAVE TO SPRINT, BUT IF YOU’RE RIGHT, YOU WON’T TAKE THE HIT. YOUR SECOND OPTION? MERRY GO ROUND! CLIMB ALL THE WAY UP! OR SOMEONE WILL DROWN. THE KEY COULD BE THERE, THE KEY COULD BE NOT… OH, WELL, FIND OUT! OR MAYBE YOU’LL ROT.

THE NARRATOR: Well, the threat is clear. They must solve the riddle, get the second key, and disarm the bomb before the timer runs out… if they don’t, the whole thing might be coming down. And they might just go down with it.

CASEY: A bomb. They were now dealing with a bomb. The words barely have a chance to register in his mind before they're all scrambling to work out what the words on the paper mean and how to save their friend. With his heart still in his mouth, it barely feels like it has a moment to settle before he's spluttering out, "it has to be the ferris wheel, right?" Looking at both of his friends for their sign of agreement.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU HAVE DECIDED TO GO TO THE FERRIS WHEEL. NOW YOU MUST DECIDE WHO SPRINTS THERE BEFORE THE TIMER RUNS OUT. [STRENGTH, FIGHTER, BRAVERY.]

CASEY: With the agreement of his friends - he's bolting off. Barely a thought running through his head other than the knowledge that he has to get to the ferris wheel before the timer ticks down to zero. Their friendship circle has suffered enough with Lux's death without adding in a casualty at the hands of Candy Girl. Scrambled together with the thought that he's lost enough family over the years, too. So, it's sheer brute force that gets him through the sprint, running like his own life depends on it because... well... it kinda does. With the ferris wheel in sight, he hopes he will make it in time.

THE NARRATOR: Heart racing, chest aching; adrenaline pulsing through his veins, but somehow he finds the key hanging from the Ferris’ Wheel’s gate like a prize less than two minutes later. With that in his hands, he just has to sprint all the way back to the carousel to save his friends.

It should be just as easy - it has to be - but maybe the pressure of getting back in time is getting to his head, because on the way back… Casey stumbles. It’s not it’s the wipeout of the century, but it certainly shaves some time off of that fucking timer in the briefcase. Not to mention some skin off of his face -- and is that blood dripping down his collar? Fuck.

MAKE A CHOICE: MODERATE SUCCESS. THE GANG HAS SUFFERED A TIME PENALTY DUE TO CASEY’S STUMBLE.

THE NARRATOR: They have the key, and now they just have to disarm that fucking bomb. It seems simple enough… But it would probably be better if whoever did it was calm. Or good at problem solving. Or just… Really, really, really good at surviving bleak situations. Any takers?

MAKE A CHOICE: SOMEONE HAS TO DISARM THE BOMB [CALM, PROBLEM-SOLVING, SURVIVOR.]

SLOANE: Sloane has dealt with many a crisis, but none so bad as this one, when lives are on the line and there's a god damn bomb in a briefcase like they're in a cheesy 80s action flick. Taking a deep breath, she takes the key from Casey, worried eyes having to fight to not focus in on his injury. They don't have time. They have to do this. "I can do it." She assures them both, steadying her hands and clenching her jaw as she lifts the key towards the keyhole steadily. "Fuck it." She mutters as she tries the one they've retrieved.

THE NARRATOR: Holy shit. Holy shit.

THE NARRATOR: I can believe this one is really happening.

THE NARRATOR: The three of them held their breath - Casey and Libby watched while Sloane went for the lock with only 30 seconds left on the timer… only to drop it.

It was the fumble of the century - the sound of the key falling into the hidden mechanisms of the carousel like a taunt - and as the clock counted down, they knew they only had one choice…

The three of them took off running as hard as they could - their lives depended on it, after all - and though it was a mighty effort, they didn’t make it far enough not to be blown off of their feet. They all land in a pile together; beaten, broken… And absolutely fucked when only minutes later, the Boardwalk Police come running.

They expect for handcuffs to be thrown onto the three of them, but as Dean Hargrove comes running up behind them, he instructs them only to arrest Sloane.

He had known Casey and Libby since they were both kids, after all. They were his son’s best friends. How was he supposed to believe that they had something to do with this over the Salt girl? Libby and Casey try to protest, but it’s no use. Sloane is going with them to the police station, and… that’s that.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU HAVE FAILED YOUR EVENT, BUT AT LEAST YOU FOUND THE FIRST KEY. YOUR FRIEND HAS A CHANCE.

#bio rp #town rp #oc rp #skeleton rp #small town rp #secrets rp #gossip rp #gossip girl rp #90s rp #classic rp #plot event 001.#plot event 001 - the carousel.

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