#also made with a straw and spite not a brush

[ayveuii]

hypnos on the freedom board at our school

[blvdheart]

THE S. STANDS FOR SLUT

⇢ Leon’s been a horndog over every single one of his coworkers except for you. Your pent up anger finally pays off after you finish a mission with him

CW: MDNI, fem!reader, fucking in a forest, unprotected sex, creampie

WC: 1k

NOTE: i won’t be able to get any other fics out until like after a week from now. feel free to send ideas for bots…kind of need some. hopefully the video as a header works in the tags if not i’ll change it (ㅠ‸ㅠ)

MASTERLIST

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

Employee of the month? Nah. More like (wannabe) whore of the headquarters. That’s what you deemed Leon to be.

Okay, maybe he didn’t fit your description perfectly, though. It’s not like he got any pussy or dick because they all turned him down. Either way, you couldn’t stand him. The man was practically flirting with anyone who had a developed frontal lobe and yet he had never once made a move on you.

Had it been any other man, you’d be over the moon about it because hello? Who wants a guy who’s trying to get into everyone’s pants? But it’s Leon…the same one who makes a sticky river gush whenever he glances your way.

The fact he didn’t even compliment you made you upset. It wasn’t in a depressing ‘what do they have that I don’t?’ type of way. You were pretty pissed, actually. Maybe he was trying to tick you off on purpose.

Being sent on a mission with him was your last straw.

The tension was palpable. He was such an asshole for messing around with you even during a life threatening scenario! Pinning you against surfaces like you were some damsel in distress, which he knew you weren’t, he’d smirk all smugly when you shoved him off and scowled at him. All the banter got him riled up. What a woman you were. His type to a tee. Felt blood rushing south whenever you handled your gun with expertise.

Like, he wanted to fuck you raw until you needed his help to walk but he also wanted you to slap him around and yank on his hair until he was reduced to a begging mess. Talk about duality. One thing at a time, he must be patient.

He’s not a moron when it comes to your feigned indifference at his antics. If he lacked observational skills, he wouldn’t be here in the first place. You gave him an ego boost. It’s almost like he could see the steam coming right out of your ears whenever he was buttering someone else up, bonus points if it was the receptionist.

Sometimes you got the urge to smack his earpiece comm. Only then would you be spared from Leon's pathetic attempts at flirting with Hunnigan. She’s not interested, Leon!

Anyways.

Mission accomplished. Chopper? Late like usual, what’s new? Here you and Leon were outside in the middle of fucking nowhere, sitting on a log like you were on a camping trip. Yeah, well the tent and high spirit is missing.

You were on edge, and Leon’s idle whistling broke you. God, what a tiny thing to get upset over.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” You were so done with him. Why was he sitting so close to you when there was tons of space on the log? His knee was brushing up against yours.

Leon let out an amused huff, giving your forehead a flick just to spite you.

“So uptight, bet you haven’t gotten dicked down in a while. That’s what you need to blow off some steam.”

“You’re one to talk, when’s the last time you got laid? Last time I checked, your attempts at whoring around have been completely unsuccessful.”

“Ah, so the princess has been keeping tabs on me? How cute. Consider me flattered.”

“I wasn’t.“ You rolled your eyes, glaring at him. “It doesn’t take much effort to figure it out, you just wanna get your dick wet.”

“What, are you obsessed with my dick or something? Jealous?”

“No! Ugh…you’re so fucking gross, Leon.” Giving him a shove on the shoulder didn’t move him at all. He curled a hand around your waist and brought you closer, his lips right against your ear.

“Maybe I don’t have much game, but at least I’m not being a little bitch about it. You just need someone to fuck all that sass outta ya, sweetheart.”

Okay. Wow. Maybe his voice was his superpower because that’s all you could focus on now. Were you really in a forest if you could no longer hear the rustling of tall and mighty trees or the distant buzzing and yapping of insects and birds?

And maybe his voice was hypnotic too because you don’t know how the hell you ended up on your fucking hands and knees. Ouch, your fingers hurt from the way they dug into the dirt but the way Leon was hitting your sweet spot made up for it.

His right glove was all damp from the way he had ground his palm against your clit just a couple minutes prior.

You were both still clothed, just having your pants down enough so you could get to the point.

There was a reason Leon liked you so much, you weren’t all that high maintenance, and you were actually fun. Would any of those receptionists with freshly manicured nails and keratin treatment on their hair be okay with getting dirt and leaves all over them? No! They’d want to fuck in a lavish bedroom with candles and shitty romantic songs playing. Instant boner killer.

His dick wouldn’t get hard for any woman who wasn’t you after this. He didn’t wanna waste a single load, no, they all had to be dumped into you.

“If you wanted to fuck, you could’ve just asked. Could’ve been going at it like rabbits ages ago.”

“I like it better when you don’t talk.” You gritted in response, reaching a hand back to slap the one he had on your hip. He liked the way you bit back, yeah, it had him twitching inside you.

“That right? Your pussy has a mind of its own then, got allllll nice and tight around me right now. She’s begging for me.”

You had always been Leon’s wet dream, but that fantasy felt nowhere as good as the real thing. He has no issue letting you know, either, he’s always had a big mouth.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, bet I’m the first one to stretch it all out.”

“Been looking at your tits all day, don’t they hurt after bouncing from all this running?” He snaked his hand up your shirt and squeezed your chest, rolling the flesh between his fingers before giving one of your hard nipples a pinch.

If you weren’t losing grasp of reality you would’ve been able to notice the distant sounds of rotor blades whirling around.

“Hear that, sweetheart? We gotta hurry.”

Yeah you’d rather die than be found getting fucked by Leon Slut Kennedy. You always thought those facial expressions pornstars made were unrealistic, but now you were mimicking it without much effort. If you snapped a shot of it you’d be famous on Twitter. How embarrassing, or maybe flattering?

“Atta girl, you like it nasty huh?” His hand wrapped around your throat like it was your personal collar and his murmured growl of your name had you seeing stars. He came inside you, pumping you with everything and slapping your ass before pulling your panties up so his load was trapped with you.

What a bastard.

The chopper ride back to HQ was uncomfortable with his cum plugging you up like a damn toy.

“You, me, hotel room after this?” Leon asked all cheekily as he nudged your shoulder, too busy looking at the way you had your legs crossed instead of the pretty view outside the window.

Maybe he’d finally get a good old slap to the face from you like he deserved while you rode him.

[eradicatetehnormal]

I would like to start off by apologizing for misgendering you. I got confused because I remembered that you were a lesbian. I didn't realize that you go by they/them until after I made this post.

To go more in-depth as to what I meant when talking about that final part of the thread, I've seen a lot of SoRikus brush off the idea that Riku or Sora at any point actually liked Kairi, which is where the bi and pan interpretations tend to come from. Their being bi or pan doesn't disprove SoRiku, it just acknowledges the possibility that at some point, they may have liked the same girl. However, I've seen many SoRikus react negatively to the idea of Sora or Riku being multi-sexual or anything that isn't just gay. I do recognize that part of that is because many people, including SoRiKai shippers, try to shut you down with the "I personally see him as bi." line.

There are reasons to believe that though, I'll give you some short ones. Throughout KH2, Sora is fantasizing about seeing Kairi again, most memorably in the scene where Jack and Sally are dancing together. One could say that Sora was romanticizing a fake, past version of Kairi and lost interest. That being said, the fact that he fantasized about her at all could lend itself to the idea that Sora liked Kairi and is therefore bisexual. With Riku, him stopping Ansem from taking Kairi in KH1 could be seen as the final straw for him, while Ansem using his body to fight Sora, wasn't. You could say that it was because Kairi is his friend and he just lost Sora, but there is a possible romantic connotation to be had if you remember that he was playing keep-away with Kairi's body and that his final line is "Take care of her." That leads me to my next point that you won't like.

A lot of this is down to interpretation. You could see Sora's stiffness in kh3's paopu fruit scene as him being shy and taken aback by Kairi's boldness, but you could also see it as him being taken aback because their relationship has changed so much from what it was in 1, that being because he no longer is under the assumption that he is in love with her. Both interpretations are compelling and both are valid. My problem with this thread as a whole is that in spite of ranting about how SoRiku isn't taken seriously and is brushed off by people dumbing it down to a ship war, you end up backhandedly saying things that would imply that you do want to disprove Sokai within the text by brushing or Sora's past feelings as merely comphet and that you make assumptions about the nature of the people who just want to stop hearing "discussions" about whether SoKai or SoRiku is endgame.

SoRiku would be a huge deal if it happened. It'd be a big leap in LGBTQ representation as it'd be one of the only if not, the only gay relationship in gaming that would have spanned 20+ years and was shown to a wide audience. A part of me roots for it because there are legitimate reasons to think that the writers are not only intentional but sincere in what they're writing and how they're writing it. The KH2 reunion scene is talked about to the point of being stereotypical, but it does demonstrate clear as day the potential queerness of these characters. How Sora sees Kairi and is like "Even though you've changed, we'll always be friends." then he sees Riku come in, having changed to look like one of his worse enemies, not caring, and dropping to his knees crying tears of bittersweet joy.

I'm not sure if you're going to believe me, but I'll end with this:

I genuinely think that SoRiku is a stronger ship than Sokai, though I don't think either ship is canon. Personally, I'd prefer it that way, but I get why people feel otherwise. There are times when I can't even stand the sight of Sokai because its fans have far too much influence over the KH community and rarely face consequences for the homophobic shit they say online. The reason I rant about SoRikus so much is that I'm on the queer side of the fandom more often so I'm going to see a queer poster shit themselves before I see a straight one. I don't think you're a "delusional yaoi fangirl." I'm a fangirl, I like yaoi. that'd be hypocritical of me. I see why you're upset but I and many others are sick of being called or implied to be homophobic just because they don't like SoRiku theories or the actions of the shippers. We're sick of assumptions being made about us and the simultaneous smugness and insecurity from SoRiku shippers.

And as far as calling you a dumbass goes, I stand by that. Especially since you bothered responding to a post that censored your account name and proclaimed "That's me!"

Oh Lord, I'm Going Off Again

I used to agree with SoRiku shippers when they said that SoRiKais need to stop coming onto their posts and saying that SoRiKais is the answer to the ship wars. At this point though, I've seen them complain about it so much all in a way that tries to inflate the importance of a ship war, that I'm just on the side of SRKs at this point. Say what you want to about the way that they're acting, but most of them are far more emotionally put together than *some* of these SoRikus are. Like, I usually try to put it more nicely because I genuinely love SoRiku and its moments both in text and within fanworks, but goddamn, SoRikus are some of the most bitch-made people in fandom.

like, THIS:

Is one of the most cope posts I've ever read. It starts off overly defensive and assumes things about people who don't want to deal with ship war bullshit anymore. I know the shippers of this caliber are incapable of believing this as they cannot fathom this thought process (deadass, I was in a SoRiku server and someone defended information told with a bias), but a lot of people, regardless of whatever ship they think is canon, believe the problem to be a result of both sides. Which is true by the way. Doesn't take too much scrolling to see a comment section for a soriku or sokai post devolve into a debate over which ship is canon, the importance of queer representation, and the likes with many arguments taking homophobic or misogynistic overtones. "Why do you guys always have to make everything about you, What's wrong with being normal?", "Kairi contributes nothing, Sora and Riku are better off without her", and "Why do you keep making this kid's game about gay sex?"

"Which ship will be endgame" is an argument by its very nature. You can't discuss that without debating, you absolute dumbass. You're presenting a theory? Well, girlie, hate to tell you, but this is the internet. Anything you say is open to criticism, including your theory. If people find things they feel like are holes, they will point them out, and it's not always malicious. There are times when people just assume that they're getting attacked when in all reality, people were just disagreeing with them.

That ending though. It's like, the inability some SoRikus have to perceive a bi, pan, or ace Sora and Riku is insane to me. Like, some of them, such as Steam, to her credit, has her reasons as to how she arrived at that conclusion. A lot of the time, though, the reasoning is just "Sora and Riku like each other so they must be gay."

This made me appreciate the TenelleFlowers video even more. SoRikus needed SOMEONE to get all their good talking points in one place. Because the Twitter alternatives are crazy.

This also made me appreciate Baloney's first SoRiku video as he straight up says that he hates SoKai and Kairi because she represents every person some queer teen's crush left them for (Not saying this is the case for the person in the tweets. I just like the fact that he came clean about hating SoKai and Kairi.)

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Dream smut or fluff where reader and him are high key mean to eachotjer despite having so many mutual friends, but then something (very vague i know I’m sorry) makes them have to get close and the develop feelings? Sorry I’m shit at requests but thank you!!!

i know this is shitty im sorry akjsdh bls forgive me

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑. ♘ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

± warnings: dream being a dick, slight slut shaming, toxic behavior, vulgar/suggestive mentions and language, sexual harassment on a bus (not by dream, you can breathe)

⋆ song recommendation: When the Night is Over by Lord Huron

You pulled a blanket beneath your chin, yawning slightly at whatever the tv was playing. You only had it on in an attempt to drown out the noises coming from your roommate's bedroom as she smoozed her date. You were honestly shocked the two hadn’t moved in together yet with all the time they spent wrapped up.

Her door opened, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of you sprawled out on the couch. He marched toward you quietly, hovering over your shoulder. You peered up at her hesitantly. “What are you watching?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper. You furrowed your brows, opening your mouth to speak but she hurriedly cut you off. “Do you mind watching it at Nick’s instead?”

You raised your eyebrows. “You’re kicking me out again?” She gave you an apologetic smile, making you roll your eyes as you stood up and pulled on your jacket. “This would hurt less if they also paid rent,” you mumbled, with a small glare.

She thanked you repeatedly, holding onto your arm as you gathered what little belongings you needed for the night. “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she courted, opening the door for you. “Tomorrow, dinner’s on me okay?” You sent her a tired look and she apologized again. She stopped you as you stepped out into the cold night, leaning through the space between the door and the frame. “Maybe you can cozy up to that Clay guy? You guys have such a good vibe,” she mocked, making you chuckle lightly.

You shook your head, waving to her. “Enjoy your night. Please, for the love of God, clean the bathroom afterward,” you called, hearing her laugh at your statement.

The bus ride was quiet due to the time of night and the weather, both of which you didn’t mind. You knew Nick’s house would be warm and loud. Before you knew it, you found yourself in front of his apartment door, kicking at the concrete ground as you heard someone stumbling to let you inside. The door opened swiftly, Clay’s large frame blocking the light from the kitchen. He leaned against the doorframe mockingly as he looked at you.

He wet his lips. “Who’s the lucky guy tonight?” He joshed.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past his body to get out of the cold. “Whoever’s dick you’re not sucking, I guess,” you quipped back, making him laugh darkly. You kicked off your shoes as he shut the door. “Where’s Sapnap?” You asked, shrugging off your jacket. You’d texted him ahead of time to ask if you could stay over, which he readily agreed to.

Clay sent you a smug look. “You guys have a fun night planned?” He made a gesture with his hand to insinuate you were there to give Nick a handjob.

You bit back a chuckle. “Why? You wanna join?” You shot back. He bit his lip and moaned pornographically.

“Cut it out, Dream,” Nick grumbled as he walked into the room. He pulled on your arm to follow him.

Dream scoffed exasperatedly. “Me? I’m not the one who started it!” He called after the two of you.

As Nick pushed you out of the room, you turned your head. “You most certainly did!” You answered. You heard him chuckle at your words as Nick shut the door to his room. You plopped down on his bed as he sat in his chair, swiveling to look at you. “Why does Dream pick at me so much?” You mumbled, fishing in your pockets for your phone.

“He’s jealous,” Nick answered absent-mindedly. “What's the date look like tonight?” He asked, referring to the reason you were there in the first place. This wasn’t the first time or the last time your roommate had kicked you out. It was becoming a more frequent occurrence for you to end up on Nick’s couch or at their place in the middle of the day with your toothbrush and a change of clothes.

You moved to lean into his pillows. “I don’t know, it's the same granola fucker she’s been hanging around,” you answered.

He rubbed his chin with a slight smirk. “There’s a subtle justice to knowing she’s still with that asshat,” he commented, making you snort.

A week later, you were on your way back to your apartment after a lecture when someone felt you up. It was the straw on the camel’s back for you as you spin around to smack the guy, stirring up a few of the bystanders. You’d walked the rest of the way home, stepping through the door to be met with your roommate and her hookup twisted together in the kitchen.

You clamped your hand over your eyes, mumbling about how you just wanted to take a nap when you were once again sent to Nick’s. You let subtle tears fall as you trudged your way across the city, hoping to get out whatever darkness you had to your attitude. The last thing you wanted to do was confront Clay looking like you did. He was like the troll with the keys to the bridge. That was really the only reason the two of you ever talked, so you knew he’d be waiting to berate you before you could get to Nick.

As you walked into the building, you spotted Clay carrying a large box, his hair slightly disheveled and his hands dirty. You knew almost instantly that he was probably attempting to fix the kitchen sink and got a call because of the size of the package. That sink had been dripping since they’d moved in, making it Clay’s mission to futz around with it every Friday afternoon. You tried helping him one time, only ending up with a deflated sense of confidence and the second wave of your childhood anger issues.

He nodded at you as you held the elevator door open for him. “What’s up, babycakes?” He chirped, popping his gum. When you hesitated to answer, he looked at you fully, scoffing. “Damn, walk of shame gone sour?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, inhaling deeply to try and calm your nerves. “I’m not really in the mood today,” you muttered, tucking your hands between your back and the wall.

He snorted, setting the box down between his feet. “You’re always in the mood! Isn’t that like your thing,” he continued to jeer. “You look like you had a fun night though-”

“Clay, stop. I’m serious,” barked at him. His expression twisting at your use of his name.

He raised his hands in mock defense. “Sorry, I thought we had---like a bit thing, um-” he cut himself off, awkwardly shoving his fists in his pockets. After a beat of silence between the two of you, the elevator came to a sharp halt on the wrong floor, the light switching to red. The two of you shared a look, knowing that the landlord was probably flipping the wrong switches again. Clay texted Nick to see what was going on.

It began to grow colder in the elevator, as it usually did. When it was off, the cold from outside usually seeped in through the elevator shaft. There was one time you were stuck in the elevator for a few hours with one of your neighbors and Karl when he had come to visit. Back then, the three of you played Uno on the guy’s phone. It was also summer, so the chill creeping up your legs wasn’t as intolerable as it was now.

You rubbed the arms of your sweater in hopes of generating some kind of warmth. Clay watched you carefully, his hands moving to grip the bar behind him. “Do you want my sweatshirt?” He offered. You shook your head, sliding onto the ground and hugging your knees to your chest. He hesitantly slumped down beside you, kicking his long legs out towards the door. The red light filling the space made his features look softer.

He nudged your arm gently with his own. “I know I’m not Sapnap, but…” he chewed on the inside of his cheek, shrugging slightly, “I mean, we’re stuck in here. We can talk about it.”

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill once again, your eyes burning and tired. “I haven’t slept with him, you know?” You stated, turning to look at him briefly before moving to sit cross-legged, planning with your fingers. “I’ve never even kissed him. I’ve never kissed anyone,” you scoffed. Clay was silent, but out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you intently.

Being this close to him, you could smell the smoky vanilla undertones of his cologne. The scent reminded you of a masculine version of the candle your aunt always burned when she went out for a night to spite her ex-husband.

Clay leaned his head back against the wood paneling, his soft blond hair flattening in the back to spread against the wall. You swallowed, sighing slightly. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and I’m getting groped on the bus and kicked out of my damn apartment because my roommate and her fucking boyfriend have to hook up on every surface. Nothing is sacred.” You shook your head, wiping away some stray tears with the back of your hand and sniffling pathetically. “You can keep making slut jokes, I don’t care. But I swear to God, I haven’t done anything with Sapnap. Or Karl, or Quackity. No one.”

He chuckled softly. “I know. That’s why I used to make those jokes,” he mumbled. “It was like… ironic humor. And then it got so far that the only way I knew you’d talk back to me was if I was fucking around with you,” he admitted. You chuckled slightly at his words, taking a deep breath.

“Oh, Dream,” you sighed. “I would have hooked up with you if you weren’t such an ass,” you chided. His laugh made you feel better. He held his hand out to you, more for support than anything, but as you laced your fingers with his, your heart eased, feeling safe beside him.

After a beat of silence, he spoke up again. "I can ride the bus with you now... if you want..." He offered, a shyness that seemed so foreign to his character shown through his eyes. "I promise I won't grope you," he joshed, making you roll your eyes.

"That's really not something we should be joking about," you mumbled, wiping away the rest of your tears on your sleeve.

His thumb brushed against the back of your hand soothingly. "I mask my awkwardness around you in dark humor. I'm sorry."

[vrishchikawrites]

I can't help but dislike lan xichen because he called wei wuxian a mistake. I know he's a good character and he had ever reason to be upset, but something about that conversation just bothers me. I don't know why it does.

​Hm, I get you. I think this is a clear example of a character's actions having a different impact on the reader than on the plot.

Plot-wise, Xichen's reaction is 100% justified. He a worried older brother. He knows LWJ loves WWX and has been rejected by him. He is concerned that LWJ would get his heart broken again. It is an understandable concern. When you look at everything objectively, we have no reason to be angry at LXC for his reaction.

But the readers have just gone through 100 chapters of people just having a go at WWX for every fucking thing, whether it is his fault or not, with not a single apology in sight.

That's why we see many people so unreasonably pissed at LXC.

It is just another thing that WWX has to silently accept. When he was kid, he was called a bastard and abused. That abuse goes unacknowledged. The fall of LP is laid at his feet, he has to deal with it. He pays off his debt and goes through horrifying trauma, that goes unacknowledged too. He faces a lot of injustice and accusations (a lot of times those accusations are baseless and spiteful), he has to accept and brush it aside. He does this again and again. Not a single person acknowledges that it was wrong to put a man through this.

LXC then comes along to say WWX is LWJ's only mistake. WWX again brushes it aside and focuses on important matters. But it has to hurt. WWX loves LWJ at this point. He just as to accept that the entire Lan clan probably thinks the same (with good reason in their eyes but that doesn't change the fact that it will hurt) Then we have LQR at CR post canon asking everyone to stay away from WWX. He brushes it aside. Look, WWX understood that the juniors turned and walked away from him because of LQR's rule and they would meet anyways. But it was still another injustice. Remember this point for me, I will come back to it.

Everything, he just has to deal with and forget. Not one time does anyone acknowledge the shit people just carelessly hurl at WWX and forget about it.

WWX being WWX, he doesn't care and will probably continue to live happily. But he has taken a lot of hits with no resolution from everyone. By this stage, readers have reached saturation point with the amount of BS WWX has to put up with and forgive.

LWJ loves WWX and that is the only saving grace in this entire situation.

LXC is like the last straw off the camel's back, so to speak. This is another careless, hurtful comment flung at WWX in anger and WWX is just made to bear it.

It is natural to be a little pissed at LXC, even if it is unreasonable. After all, LWJ is the only person WWX has in his corner (aside from WN). By calling WWX LWJ's mistake, LXC essentially said WWX didn't deserve even that bit of happiness.

But that is a reader's emotional response to the story. It isn't actually LXC's character at fault. He is being perfectly reasonable given how much information he has.

The fact is, readers are invested in WWX by this point and we're being told -yeah people just fling accusations and abuses at the character we want you to love, no one apologizes for it, even the kind older brother thinks he's trash, but the guy we made you love is just gonna shrug it all off and be happy because that's just him. And you can't be a little bit mad about it.

Lmao, that's a bit of excellent writing but it is also immensely irritating.

Now, onto a more serious observation. WWX is essentially alone and socially isolated at this point. Before his death, he had WQ, WN, and the remnants with him.

Post canon, he only has LWJ and WN and even WN rightfully chooses to live his own life.

We love and trust LWJ but that man has a rock solid support system. A brother, an uncle, a sect, society's respect, status, and wealth.

WWX has none of that. As attached readers, we're asked to trust a beloved character into a family where - one important member thinks WWX is a mistake and the other actively tries to keep him away from other sect members.

Then we're asked to trust that LWJ is all WWX will ever need. I can tell you- in marriage, you need a few people other than your spouse to stay in your corner if there's conflict. Even if the conflict is minor. The situation here is - WWX lacks a support system outside of LWJ. LWJ's family and the society as a whole will consider it ABSOLUTELY HIS FAULT if things go even a little sideways.

That, nonny, is something that people may realize and feel very uncomfortable about. That may be one of the reasons why LXC words hit a little harder. Because of course, the sect leader and brother's first concern is gonna be LWJ if there's an event where LWJ needs protecting from WWX.

But who protects WWX if he, in an unlikely event, needs protecting from LWJ?

(I want to make it clear that I don't consider WWX weak or vulnerable. He can take care of himself even if the entire world turns again him. and he certainly won't face any issues with lwj by his side. But it is a situation that can be a tad troubling if you look too deeply. )

[allmyspideys]

a poe dameron x reader angst that ends with fluff maybe 🥺👉👈

Hi okay so i took this in a little bit of a different way and our “angst” is more like bickering coworkers aka enemies to wounded to… lovers :) i hope this is okay! If it’s not, just ask again and i’ll give you some real angst! Requests are still open btw lovies!! 

“Dameron!” You yelled, hopping down from your x-wing, not even waiting for a ladder. Across the hanger Poe Dameron stood with his stupid little hands on his hips with his stupid big head back laughing with the other members of his team.

“Poe!” You yelled again as you marched your way over to him. The little crowd that had grown around him quickly dissipated when they saw you coming. It wasn’t that you had a reputation per se, it was more that you had a reputation with Poe and no one wanted to be close enough to accidentally get caught in the crossfire. 

Poe smirked as he saw you coming, trying to ignore the fact that his heart picked up a little bit when he saw you jump out of your x-wing and immediately call his name. He liked the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth, but he would never tell you that. 

“Captain,” he said cooly, “that was some good flying out there today”.

“Yeah,” you chided, voice thick with sarcasm and spite, “well I was the only team leader that had some good flying”. 

Poe gave a little chuckle before turning and beginning to walk away. He unzipped his flight suit and tied the sleeves around his waist. You faltered for a second, caught up by the way Poe’s tanned and shiny skin rippled over his muscles as he pulled down the sleeves. You couldn’t help but ogle at the contrast between his soft black tank top stretching across the peak of his shoulder. Just for a second you allowed yourself to imagine those arms wrapped around you in comfort, or being used to pin you against something harder, but you shook yourself out of that daydream. It was Poe Dameron after all and there were nicer men in the Resistance than him. 

“Don’t you walk away from me Dameron,” you spat, falling in step closely behind, ignoring the voice in your head that told you to flat tire your Commander, “you could have killed someone today! You were reckless and dangerous-” 

“Listen Gold Leader, I knew what I was doing and I knew where you were. It was just a flyby,” Poe said, maintaining his cool attitude, “Now go get a few drinks with your team. I know they miss you”. 

You tried to hold your tongue, you really did, but there was just something about Poe Dameron and chilled out attitude to everything stupid and cocky he did. It had been building for a while, but mentioning your team was the last straw and you just snapped. 

“Well Black Leader, maybe someone else should be leading your team,” you spat, voice full of venom, “instead of someone with a superiority complex with the sole focus on himself”. 

Poe spun around and his face was just as angry as yours. It surprised you and caused you to stumble back a little bit, but Poe’s arm reached out around your waist and pulled you close. If it were any other situation, both you and Poe would be reveling in the mutual warmth raiding off of one another and committing the closeness of one another to memory. 

“Enough Captain,” Poe noted the way your face showed a flash of fear before returning to stubborn anger, “I am your Commander and you will respect my orders. Now go be with your team and don’t speak to me like that again,” the tension was palpable, but only the quick flick of your eyes to Poe’s lips would have given away that it was because of anything other than the argument you were having, “Is that understood?”. Poe leaned closer on each word, so that his breath was hot on your face and hand warm around your back. In any other situation it could have been hot and enjoyable to have him that close.

You gave a dry chuckle, “Pulling rank,” you leaned closer to Poe’s face, “You only do this because you know I’m right”. 

Poe tried to think of a retort, but his mind was consumed by the fact that your lips were mere centimeters away from his. He could only think about the way your nose was flaring out of anger in the same way it flared when you laughed with your team. He wanted to say something, but the notice of your hand on his chest radiating warmth short circuited his brain and he just could think of anything other than you. Poe’s eyes scanned your face for any indication that you were feeling the same way he was and landed on your lips. 

At that moment, BB-8 bumped into Poe’s feet, causing him to let go and pull away. He looked over you one last time before turning away again. 

“Go be with your team Commander,” he said, sauntering away. 

You were both so stubborn and hotheaded, though it showed in different ways. For every instance that you were organized, Poe was impulsive and for every time that Poe was calculating, you were there to point out every flaw. There was a time that Leia thought you’d make a good team. That’s why she appointed you Gold Leader to work with Poe as Black Leader, but the first time she saw you in a meeting, she quickly realized that she was wrong. All you did was bicker, both needing to be right, but Leia knew that one day you’d agree and make one hell of a stubborn decisive team. She knew that Poe would run headfirst into battle if you were hurt and you’d lay down entire armies if it meant getting to Poe. Leia wasn’t the only one to see it, but she was the first to see that behind all the bitterness, there was so much care and concern for the other. It just needed to be brought out, and one day it would. 

It happened for Poe first. Poe knew he cared about you, and that he was attracted to you, but he also knew that your moments of stubbornness were very annoying. In that though, you were the only person he allowed to speak to him as you did. Maybe no one else had a reason to yell at him or maybe no one else had the guts, but if anyone else tried, Poe knew that he wouldn’t like it because that was reserved for you. He liked that about you, but he also really didn’t like that too. 

Poe knew that you needed to work on your x-wing and he did too, so after asking around your team, he found out exactly when you’d be in the hanger. So the night before, he moved his x-wing right next to yours, so you’d have to share a toolbox and at least talk about that.

You were still pissed off about Poe pulling rank on you and hadn’t spoken to him more than you had to in the weeks following and Poe missed you. He missed talking about new x-wing parts and upgrades. He missed the way your eyes would light up when you talked about your home planet. He even missed the teasing bickering. It all brought so much joy to him. He was going to make sure that his plan worked and that he got to talk to you again. 

Poe was working on his x-wing long before you were; he wanted to look like he had planned it before you did, so he could tease you about always finding him. Poe liked to tease you to watch you roll your eyes and flash him a little smirk. 

Poe looked up at the sound of your footsteps across the hanger. He was beautiful. The way his wild curls were fully unruly and fluffy made you want to run to him and just run your fingers through his hair. His fingers were covered in grease and arms glistening with sweat. He was wearing that stupid black tank top again that fully showed off his arms and numbed your brain a little bit. As you got closer, you could see the glint of happiness in Poe’s eyes as he tried to shove down the smile that was threatening to burst out of him purely from seeing you. 

As you walked by him, Poe called out to you, “When I saw your x-wing parked next to mine I knew you’d come running to see me,” he finally flashed you his big grin causing you to smile a little too, “you just couldn’t help yourself huh.” 

“Not when it comes to you, baby,” you quipped back, giving Poe a little bump. Calling him baby was a common joke between you two, but every time it gave a flurry of flutters in Poe’s stomach and he longed for you to call him baby for real. He wanted to hear you call him baby when you woke up in the middle of the night and wanted more cuddles. He wanted you to call him baby as you held his head against your chest after a long mission. He didn’t know that you wanted that too. 

Very quickly you fell into a gentle conversation, talking about everything from BB-8 asking for a new antenna and the droid you were looking at getting, to telling Poe more about your homeland and him telling you about his mom. Every now and then you’d ask Poe, “could you pass me …” and every time Poe’s breath would stop for the split second that his hand brushed yours and you gave him a wide smile and a thanks. 

As you reached into your x-wing, something sliced your hand and you immediately jumped back, clamping your other hand over it, trying to stop the bleeding before it started. 

“Oh dear Maker!” you shouted, face scrunching up in pain. Immediately, Poe was at your side, hands already starting to run over yours, looking for anything that was wrong.

“Here, use my bandanna to hold pressure,” he said, trying to move your hands out of the way to see the cut. You held the bandana over your finger, but started trying to move away from Poe. Every step and turn you took, Poe countered.

“Could you just stop and go get me the first aid kit,” you yelled at him. Poe ran to grab it and came back to you immediately trying to fix you up again. 

“Poe stop!” Poe’s deep brown eyes flicked up to yours and you could see the concern in his eyes. You’d never actually seen Poe worried about you. Sure, you had heard about Poe asking your teammates how you were doing or how a mission went, but it was never to your face. Seeing it sparked something deep inside of you, a warmth that made you regret snapping at him.

“I can do it myself,” you whispered, looking down, unable to look him in the eye.

“I know,” Poe tilted your chin up, so he could see your beautiful face, “but you don’t have to”. Poe’s voice was so warm and full of care, that you looked back up at him to see something more than just concern, but you couldn’t quite tell what it was. Poe knew what it was. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself for a long time, but finally, the love he had for you broke through. Poe loved you and he wanted you to know. 

Poe put as much love as he possibly could into gently wiping away the blood and cleaning up your wound, muttering a small “sorry” when you hissed at the pain. The love he was feeling fueled his hands wrapping yours in gauze and fueled his lips as he gave your palm a small kiss.

“All better,” he said, resisting the urge to lean down and give your head a small kiss too as he put away the first aid kit. 

Poe knew that he loved you, but you just felt warm and fuzzy and confused, unwilling to let yourself think that Poe Dameron could view you as anything other than his inferior that he shoved in your face only a few weeks prior. Part of you wanted to hold onto that feeling, letting the warmth from Poe’s hands on yours linger, but the other part wanted to shove the warmth spreading through your chest from the care that Poe gave you so far down. You thought you had, but every now and again, Poe would flash you a smile from across a hanger and your cheeks would get warm with the spreading warmth from your heart.

You’d never tell anyone, but you really didn’t need to. Leia saw it immediately. She saw the way that Poe would gently grab your wrist as you yelled at him for something stupid he had done. She watched the way he would lean back in his chair, resigned to accept whatever you were giving him. She saw that meetings started to go more and more smoothly as you would actually listen to each other and build a plan, together. Leia even saw the few times Poe pulled you aside to apologize for getting too heated when you two did disagree. 

Is kind of sad that it took Poe getting seriously hurt for you to willingly admit it, but all is fair in love and war. You were never told what actually happened, but the second that Snap ran into your room telling you that Poe was hurt, you set off running. Snap followed closely behind rattling off the whole story, but all you heard were words.  You heard him say “Poe was fixing your ship” and that was the last thing that registered; you’re only thought was getting to Poe. 

After pushing your way through people and mumbling excuse me, you finally saw him. Poe was laying on a little cot, right above the ground in the hanger. His whole arm was covered in blood from a gash that no one could get to stop bleeding. You heard someone say that Medical was on their way, but when you locked eyes with Poe, it was like everyone else completely disappeared. You heard your heart beating in your ears as that familiar warmth started to consume your chest. 

Poe looked into your eyes and saw that same look you saw in his. It was concern and a little something more, but this time, Poe knew exactly what that little something was. It was love. He knew it and now you knew it too.

“Captain,” he said, still using that annoying chill attitude, “come to see me off?” 

You knew it was a joke and that he was talking about Medical guaranteeably grounding him for a while, but it felt too much like death. Tears sprung to your eyes as you thought about losing the love so soon after you finally admitted it. 

“Shut up Dameron,” you commanded with a sad chuckle. You got on the ground to lean in close to Poe’s face. “You’re gonna be fine”.

Poe gave you his infamous smile, warming your whole body once again. You noted the way Poe’s eyes crinkled and nose scrunched up a little bit when he smiled. You wanted to see that face everyday. You wanted to wake up next to that face and jump out of your x-wing just to see that face grinning at you across the hanger. You wanted Poe.

“Careful Gold Leader, someone might think you actually like me,” Poe chided. Poe’s grin grew wider as he saw you break out into a little smirk. He would do anything to see that smile, even if it meant teasing you when just breathing was taking up so much of his energy. 

You reached out to lace your fingers with Poe’s and gave him a little squeeze. Of course you liked him, everyone knew that, but not everyone knew that you loved him. Though if they looked at the two of you sitting there, they’d know immediately. Poe’s eyes were bright, staring deep into your loving ones, both with a wide smile despite the physical pain, your hands now bloody from trying to help as much as you could, and most importantly, the complete bliss of being that near each other. It may have taken you far longer than it should have to admit to yourself that you loved Poe Dameron, but once you did, there was no going back, and honestly, you didn’t want to.

“And what if I wanted someone to know that I love you,” you asked. Your eyes were still so full of love, but your nervous smile gave you away. Poe felt like he was floating; he knew you loved him because he felt it every time you interacted, but finally hearing you say it made his whole world seem better. Poe reached up to cup your face, but pulled back slightly because he didn’t want to get any blood on you, but blood washes off and your love did not, so you leaned your face into his palm, recognizing the radiating care that flowed from all of Poe’s touches.

“Then I would tell someone that I love you too,” Poe’s voice was laced with love and adoration. It made you feel so incredibly warm and fuzzy, loved and supported, and lucky. It may have taken a long time full of bickering and frustration, but Poe Dameron was guaranteeably your best friend, and you were so happy to be in love with him.

As Leia looked onto the scene unfolding in front of her, she knew that you were finally the team you were meant to be. She knew that you would hunt across the galaxy if it meant finding Poe. There would still be bickering and teasing, but that’s where the love began, and at the end of the day, Poe would hold you in his arms and remind you of all the sweet things he loved about you.

[scrawnytreedemon]

Neurodivergency, and Sephiroth

Right, I’m going to see if I can try and explain why this reading appeals to me.

For some background, I’ve watched a full silent LP of the OG, watched Advent Children, and am largely familiar with his characterisation in Crisis Core(though it gets a bit patchy in some areas). I am not familiar with his characterisation in KH, Dissida, or any other spinoff appearances.

I’m going to be looking at this with an autistic lens, as, hey, I’m autistic, however much of these patterns aren’t exclusive to autistic people by any means and thus are fairly applicable to other labels.

This is an explanaition on why I find this element worth considering, and while I hope that others can relate or take away something from this, in many ways it is highly personal and not intended to be a decleration on Sephiroth’s ‘true nature,’ as it were. I’m not claiming that this was intended by the writers-- Infact, I’d be very surprised if they considered it, at all --As many of the traits he exhibits could be brushed aside as due to his upbringing.

That being said, let’s get into it!

1. Alienation

A common thread in neurodivergency, autism in particular, is some form of alienation. This doesn’t necessarily mean being outcast-- I, for one, have been largely accepted by those around me, and yet there is still that sense of being ‘other‘ that’s always been there, long before I even had a word for it.

Now, of course, in Sephiroth this is more related to his lineage, and how it’s expressed in... well, everything. Even still, I find value in expanding that, and considering just how getting the sense you’re implicitly divided from your peers.

There is, of course, the matter of Sephiroth’s literal isolation-- However, as fun as those scenarios are to play around with, I don’t think Sephiroth was raised wholly, or even mostly in the labs. The reason being that it would be nigh impossible to have hid just what made Sephiroth different, especially knowing how observant he is. It’s clear that Sephiroth had had extensive contact with other children, as epitomised by the line:

“I knew ever since I was a child, I was not like the others. I knew mine was a special existence. But this is not what I meant!” 

Sephiroth was painfully aware that he is different, even if he didn’t know exactly how. It is at once an oddly thrilling, and lonely sensation. Thrilling, because-- Hey! --You can do and see things others can’t and/or wouldn’t; and lonely, because it makes it hard to relate to others or have them relate to you.

2. Socialisation

I would like to start off by saying that, while I find it a tad more faithful and endlessly less grating than Sex God Sephiroth, Sephiroth is not a complete and utter social failure. While it’s clear he has difficulty articulating emotions and understanding others, it’s very clear even still that he knows how the game works, and knows how to play it.

This is going to dip far more into speculation territory, so buckle up.

A thing that, perhaps, I don’t see talked about often enough online when it comes to neurodivergent experiences, is that many things that are considered ‘normal‘ get experienced as systems that we need to actively learn and maneuver-- Socialisation especially!

Now, of course there is always some degree of social interaction being a give and take, a step forth and step back, regardless of neurotype, but it’s dialed up far more when you deviate from ‘the norm.‘

If I can give my own example, a thing I struggled with when I was little was humour! Not because I didn’t find things funny, or didn’t know what it was, but because I had issues grasping at the machinations of what made something funny. This lead to alot of nonsensical jokes that left my siblings confounded, until I picked up a joke-book, and started analysing from there. It was mostly alot of puns, which! Due to their simple structure, are a great way to learn the basics! I didn’t even know this was unusual, until my mother pointed it out to me years later.

And that method goes for alot of things.

Sephiroth, above all else, is observant. He makes efforts multiple times throughout the OG and Crisis Core to check up on others and ask how they’re doing. He asks Cloud how he feels returning to his hometown, and about seeing his mother, and urges Zack to check up on Aerith in Crisis Core, to name some notable examples. Even if you get the sense that his attempts are, perhaps, a little ungainly, it makes it clear more than anything that Sephiroth tries.

I think the reason that people have leaned alot more into the overly-awkward perception of Sephiroth in recent times, is because it humanises him. I feel there’s been far more of a shift within fandom to focus on the mundane, on relatability, on humanity. A veneer of endless, effortless confidence really isn’t that sexy anymore-- When sexual-appeal even comes into the matter, at all.

That being said, this section more than anything, I think, is very easy to brush aside due to his... interesting upbringing. Depending on how you construe the timeline, Sephiroth got sent to war as early as twelve, and wouldn’t have had much of an oppurtnity to develop these skills in a healthy and timely manner.

Even without that, a degree of social awkwardness is far from exclusive to any particular neurotype-- It’s the way it arises in him, though, that piques my interest.

3. Analysis and Obsession

This... I think, is the one where I’ll be grasping at straws the most.

While, yes, the obsessive research demonstrated in the OG during the Nibelheim incident and even before that to a lesser extent in Crisis Core could be some indication of a degree to absolutely immerse yourself in a subject in that Very Autistic WayTM, more than anything these are brought on by dire circumstance(the former especially by the question of his very humanity), and as we don’t see Sephiroth as a child, it’s uncertain as to whether he displayed these behaviours as such and to this degree under ‘normal‘ circumstances.

Even so, I get the feeling that Sephiroth is very analytically-minded, in a very Stranger In A Strange World sort of way(not in any way referring to the 1961 novel by a similar name, lmao). I get the feeling he’s the type of person to pick up some highly-esoteric text just for fun and come away with a menagerie of strange and unusual and obscenely specific factoids that he’ll remember for the rest of his life.

Like, someone might mention a topic offhandedly, and though he’d keep his mouth shut because He’s Like ThatTM, a slew of all the little bits and pieces he’s seen or read on the matter over the years would just jump to mind.

What I’m trying to say is, I think Sephiroth would take joy in painstakingly pouring and mulling over topics that not many people would have the consideration nor the mind to hold any long-term, inimate interest in.

If the last point was easily brushed aside, then this one you’d merely have to breathe and it’d fall apart. Nonetheless, I feel that within fandom’s current common framework with how we perceive Sephiroth, this wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.

I, however, want to make it clear that I can see the issue with labelling Sephiroth as neurodivergent. He could all too easily fall into the cliché of cold, emotionally and socially-inept, often rather callous depictions we see all too often in the heavily-neurotypical media that sees us as Missing Something; less than. Things have gotten better, but even still, there’s such a tendency to flatten us down to the things we can’t do, or lawd as us Potential Einsteins in spite of it-- Which, just, while it happens, on the whole it isn’t very helpful or realistic to expect this from us.

We are by no means a monolith, and while I take comfort in the idea of a neurodivergent Sephiroth, I understand that for some, it can feel like taking on a label to a character that vaguely fits the stereotype, and thus, perhaps, insinuating that to be autistic you have to look Like That-- And when it comes to villains in particular, it’s all too easy to dip into demonisation.

This isn’t even getting onto some of the issues that’d have this fall apart, were we to look at other symptoms. The first that comes to mind, and one that even I, as innocuous as I am, experience: sensory overload.

While it is entirely possible that Sephiroth learned to deal with it accordingly in life, or was forced to surpress it, because Shinra’s Science Department(cough cough Hojo) has been shown time and time again to force its subjects into little boxes and blame them for any failures expressed, the fact is that such a symptom could make fighting on the battlefield downright impossible.

Again, this is something that could’ve been given a ‘solution‘(as much as you can or even should think about long-term surpressing your basic thresholds), it nonetheless remains an issue.

I just hope that, on the whole, this served as some food for thought.

TL;DR: Sephiroth is autistic because I Vibe With It.

Also, happy Disability Pride!

[youalexturnermeon]

Warm Beer and Cold Women Pt. 2 (Johnny Lawrence x Reader)

Click for Part 1

Request: Hi! I absolutely love your work and I was wondering if I could get a Cobra Kai Johnny imagine where the reader is a bartender and starts crushing on him since he’s a regular and he flirts with her all the time and she pretends to hate it but she actually loves it? by Anon

A/N: First part is basically just the request, the second part is more angsty and more heated. Johnny protects the reader from some creeps in the bar and they get finally closer

Warnings: badass reader, drinking, DUI, swearing, violence and sexual harassment

Wordcount: 3174

Friday nights were busier, much busier than any of the other days of the week. You didn’t know how much busier than the other fancy bars in L.A. but for you it was most certainly busy enough. Mostly, middle-aged men came by, construction workers above all, who decided to celebrate the end of the week by getting black-out drunk. The bar was much noisier and loud music blasted through the old shabby speakers on the walls. You didn’t particularly like the big groups of men. They weren’t the nicest and they were the definition of a patriarchal dick comparison that mostly consisted of hitting on the female barkeepers. They were a huge pain in the ass, but at least, the drunker they got, the better they tipped. And you needed the money. Compared to them Johnny was a literal angel.

You didn’t show much enthusiasm when you walked around with a tray, picking up dirty glasses, taking new orders tipped with a few disgusting comments and bringing new drinks over to the tables. Usually, you liked being behind the counter more. Firstly, because you didn’t have to move much, also you loved making cocktails, and secondly because of Johnny who was always an annoyingly good company, although you were never willing to admit that. However, he seemed off today. He still was full on hitting on you and complimenting your today’s choice of clothing, he said he loved how you looked in your shorts and fishnets, but you could see that someothing was going on with him. He was staring into space more than usual and he didn’t pick fights with the construction workers who accidentally bumped into him from time to time. You wanted to ask him about it, because you genuinely were interested in him but as soon as you walked past him with a new full tray, to bring it to a table with three men, he gave you a dirty wink. And the wish to know something about him just vanished, so you made your way.

“Alright,” you said in your overly nice server’s voice as you started placing down the drinks on the table, trying to ignore the looks on your body. You were used to it, you were attractive and being that whilst working as a barkeeper just came with nasty comments and occasional sexual harassment.

“We have three beers, one dark and two Lager, two Whisky on the rocks and one Vodka soda.” Everyone tried to grab their drink from your hands, which you hated but that was okay, some people just didn’t know better, they thought they were helping out that way. When you were putting down the last of the beers on the table and leaned down, a rough hand suddenly brushed over your chest. You might have imagined it, you thought, that was probably an accident. After all, the man, still in his dirty work clothes, probably just tried to grab his dark beer. Yet you stopped for a second, eyes wide, then you cleared your throat and pulled yourself together.

“You alright, love?” he asked, and you nodded, “Yeah, sure, enjoy!”

The man who did that wasn’t even looking at you, you missed his dirty smirk by seconds. You just shook if off, you had thick skin and turned around to go back to your beloved counter. Yet, the minute you turned your back to the men sitting, you instantly felt it. A hand on your ass, a squeeze and you heard laughter, then - a slap. You snapped back and slammed the tray on their table, glasses clanking.

“Get you fucking hands off me, you asshole!” you yelled, your breath suddenly quicker, anger rising in you. So, you haven’t imagined it, he touched your breasts before. Bad pick-up lines were okay, but this was too far. Groping was the last straw for you.

“Or what?” he retorted immediately and now you were seeing the disgusting grin on his sweaty wrinkled face, full of self-admiration, he was so proud of himself “Are you gonna chop them off with that sharp tongue of yours?”

You let out a hateful laugh, he probably was expecting you to leave it be, after all he was a customer and you’re a simple barkeeper. But not with you.

“No, I’m gonna bite your fucking tiny dick off!”

“Ohhh,”, the men growled together, “That’s a feisty one. Wanna see it? It’s not that tiny. You’ll like it.”, the bald sweaty one said and gestured to his crotch.

“I’m gonna bite your dick off. Then I’m going to go to your house and I’m gonna fuck your wife. And I’m gonna fuck her so good, she’ll leave your sorry dickless, spineless ass!”

Suddenly, your groper was on his feet, he was so close to you, you could smell his boozy breath, although he towered inches above you. He didn’t like being talked to like that. And his glance was full of fury.

“Leave my wife out of that, you slut!” he grunted through his teeth and took another threatening step towards you, nervously fiddling with his wedding ring. You didn’t back off, you were in your bar.

“I’m gonna leave her out of it if you apologize for being a piece of shit to me, you do not fucking touch your server!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t walk around in these tiny shorts of yours, showing off your legs if you don’t want men to appreciate it.”

You took a deep breath, this was not really happening right now. You felt so dirty.

“Is there a problem, (Y/N)?” you heard a familiar voice out of a sudden and felt a hand on your shoulder. And that’s when you understood how tense you were, but the soft touch helped, you relaxed. You didn’t even realize that as soon as you started yelling, Johnny sprung off his seat and rushed over to you.

“I…” you started but you had lost your words. It was the first time he touched you.

“Leave her the fuck alone!” Johnny growled, now shifting his attention from you to the three men who were bothering you. His voice was so ominous that it made you shiver. You had never seen him mad before. Protectively he stood in front of you, shielding you from their gaze, since he, too, was much taller than you. In the back Kenny was making his way to the scene as well.

“You scumbags should really pack your stuff and leave this fucking bar before I kill someone. You better watch how the fuck you are talking to her!”

“And who’s that? Your daddy?”, another spiteful remark from your tormenter. Johnny’s arms started trembling, he clenched his fist and the grip on your shoulder tightened, it almost hurt you. At the same it was calming you down.

“Yeah, and I’m her little brother” you heard yet another to you well-known voice and saw Kenny, who also stood there like a mountain, arms crossed in front of his chest, glaring down on the three construction workers, whilst his leather jacket crackled from where he tensed his muscles. He was fucking scary which made the men on appear so tiny whereas the one standing leapt back a couple steps, clearly intimidated by Kenny’s appearance and Johnny’s rage.

“And you better apologize to this lady before I give you a ban!”

And funnily enough, this helped. They muttered something about how they were sorry. But you didn’t even listen to it anymore, you were already walking back, Johnny following you, Kenny staying. You didn’t want to hear any more of that conversation. You wanted your safe space behind the bar with no one around you at best.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asked, seemingly concerned and took a seat at the other side of the counter. You were avoiding his eyes as you nodded, you didn’t want his pity. You just wanted a drink.

“That happens all the time, don’t worry,” you lied “As someone working here, I have to deal with it every fucking day. And you, my little drunk friend, are also part of the problem.”

“Ouch,” Johnny said and smiled, “At least, I never touched you!” “Seriously Johnny?” you laughed and saw how glad he was that you were able do that after the fight at the table, “The first time you came here, you bumped into me, hard.” “But not too hard.”

“And on purpose!”

“You can’t prove that,” he said grinning, “But it’s nice to hear that you still remember the first time we met. That has to mean something, right? Something like that we’re meant for each other.”

You rolled your eyes and poured yourself a whisky, you drank it and immediately another, “Not now, Johnny.”

“Sorry,” he said apologetically, and you were almost surprised to hear that from him “By the way, I really loved you threatening to fuck this asshole’s wife. That was badass. Just be careful next time, though, okay?”

“Is he bothering you, too?”, Kenny who suddenly appeared asked also pouring himself a whisky but in a much bigger glass than yours and a second in a smaller one.

“If I say yes, are you going to kill him?”

“Not necessarily kill him but cripple him real good.”

You heard Johnny gulp. He wasn’t afraid of three man but of Kenny. But Kenny laughed and placed a Whisky in front of Johnny, “That’s for protecting my (Y/N). After all you’re not as bad as she says.”

For the rest of the night, Kenny has sent you into the office, he wanted you to adjust the schedule for next week. You knew that it was only an excuse to get you out of the bar for a couple of hours, since the shifts you and the others had were always the same for years now. And you didn’t mind, although you wouldn’t have minded staying with Johnny either. Funnily enough, he calmed you down. Nevertheless, he was now making friends with Kenny whom he never really liked, so you knew, he was in good hands. It was around two o’clock in the morning when Kenny finally came in to tell you that you were free to go home if you did him the favour of bringing the garbage out and close the bar. This you didn’t mind as well. You dragged the bags behind you into the backyard where the bins were and that was also when Kenny said his goodbye.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked as he got on his bike and let the motor roar.

“Yeah,” you waved at him “Go home, I’ll be fine.”

And just like that, he was gone. You sighed and heaved the trash into the bins. Before you made your way back inside to get your bag to finally go home and sleep you decided to smoke a cigarette. And maybe that was your mistake.

“Well, well, well, if this isn’t the feisty little bitch,” you suddenly heard a slurring voice behind you, followed by laughter as were about to light a cigarette. You didn’t even have to turn around to know exactly to whom it belonged. This time, there was no anger rising in you, you didn’t dare to say a thing, there was only fear. You dropped your cigarette.

“Where are your friends now?”

“Kenny is still inside,” you answered trying to sound calm but your voice was shaky and so were your hands “And the other one is wai-“

“Bullshit!” exclaimed the man who acted that he was so sorry to have groped you only hours before. He was even drunker now and his thin lips crowned a spiteful grin. You were fucked.

“We just saw the big guy leaving on his motorbike. You’re all alone now.” And they were right. You tried to pull yourself together, to think of a plan to get you out of this situation but everything you could think of was calling the cops and on top of that your phone was still inside. You just have to fight back, your brain kept telling you!

“And what are you going to do? Beat me up? Rape me?” you tried to sound confident, but it was pretty difficult now that you were not in the bar anymore but outside in the backyard between some dumpsters. Your voice was failing you.

“Maybe a little bit of both?” one of the men said amused and shrugged while another one was now far too close to you, so close that he could grab your wrist. His grip was so tight that you cried out in pain and that was when you took all your courage, lashed out and punched him with all your might in the face. Your hand hurt as hell but now you saw blood.

“Shit, this bitch broke my nose!” your victim cried out in pain and now, with two other man leaping towards you, you were done with your plan, you just closed your eyes and…

“What the fuck did I tell you?”, a scream and then a loud thump. When you dared to open your eyes, you could not believe them. Johnny who managed to throw himself between you and the group was now in pretty hardcore fist fight. Although at the second glance you realized that he was not only throwing one strong punch after another but also full-on kicking the kicking the shit out of the assholes who were threatening you. He must’ve known some Martial Arts or something, you thought because this looked like being straight out of an action film. You couldn’t even follow the fight with your eyes that’s how quick Johnny was moving. Yet, some time you saw him being punched as well but it was nothing compared to how he dealt blows. And it that moment, you knew, you could never be not grateful to this man in your life ever again.

It might’ve taken just second or maybe hours but after a while, the men were gone, you didn’t even realize how they fled Johnny, and there were only you two left.

Johnny was panting when he came over to you, where you still stood motionless with your back pressed against the wall.

“Are you okay?”, he asked breathing quickly, holding out his hand to you. Without thinking you grabbed it and let yourself lead to a curb stone where you two sat down. You didn’t answer you just took out another cigarette and lit it, letting the smoke calming your lungs.

“(Y/N)?”

“I’m okay,” you said finally coming back to you and finding your voice, offering him a cigarette as well which he gladly accepted.

“Are you?” you asked while you studied him. He was the only one that had to be asked. Johnny looked rough. His blonde hair was all messy, his clothes now dirty and jeans ripped at the knees, but above all it was his face that concerned you. Blood was dripping from his chin, coming from his burst lip. Also, it already crusted on the cheekbone where a fresh scratch was on top of a purple bruise. And in the dim light you were not completely sure, but you could see a black eye being there tomorrow.

“I mean, you look like shit.” “Thanks, you’re always so kind to me. I can clearly see why I like you so much,” he joked “But yeah, I’m fine. Believe it or not but I always get into fights, this shit kinda follows me.”

“How did you beat them up like that anyways? Was that Krav Maga or something?”

“Karate” Johnny answered proudly and took a relieving drag from his cigarette.

“You never told me you did Karate.”

“You never asked me,” he smiled at you and protectively put and arm around your shoulders. He must’ve noticed how you shivered. And you didn’t object. You weren’t really cold but you just wanted be held by him.

“Well, to be fair, I never ask you anything besides your order. But I’ll guess I’m gonna start from now on. There’s obviously more to you than being a noisy bastard.” “Oh I’m honoured to be the one who finally melted the infamous (Y/N)’s heart.”

“No Johnny, seriously, you didn’t melt my heart, but you saved my ass. Thank you,” you laid your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes “I don’t even wanna know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

“You don’t have to,” Johnny said softly and stroked your hair “Because I was there! And you’re save with me.”

You were, you felt save and you sighed. There was only one thing left to do.

“Now, c’mon, let’s patch you up so we can finally call it a day” you said and stood up.

--

Half an hour later you could finally close the doors to the damn bar, it was relieving. “Do you need a ride?”, Johnny asked when stopped for a second and gestured over to a black car in the distance “Because I’m not leaving you alone here anymore, not today, not ever.”

You rolled your eyes, but you smiled.  After all, it was an amazing feeling to know that Johnny cared about you. That he wasn’t just one freak you liked because he was nice to you but genuinely wanted you to be happy. However, you just couldn’t help yourself but being a sarcastic little shit again.

“No, thank you,” you answered, “I’m not really interested in being involved in DUI again.”

“And there she is, (Y/N) being herself again,” Johnny laughed but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he threw his keys at you “You’re driving then.” You clumsily caught but immediately threw them back at him.

“I’m also not driving. I don’t have a license, lost it a few months ago.” “For DUI?”

“For DUI,” you answered. The curse of working in a bar.

“So how are you getting home? Because I’m really not leaving you alone.”

“I called myself an Uber and there it is” you saw the only moving car in the distance and pointed at it.

“Thanks again,” you said when you were walking towards your Uber and Johnny made his way to his.

“No problem”

And something in you told you, that you two weren’t done yet. As you watched him walking you suddenly realized what it was. “Johnny!” you called out and he stopped.

“What is it, (Y/N)?”

“Tomorrow for sure, I’m gonna finally let you buy me that fucking drink. And I want to know everything about your Karate. Is that a deal?”

“You bet!”, he yelled back, and the brightest smile appeared on his face. He finally made it. “See you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow.” You whispered back. And on your face also appeared a smile. Tomorrow would be the day, you thought and finally got in the car.

But Johnny didn’t come tomorrow, and he didn’t come the day after. That was unusual. You were waiting for him, but he didn’t show himself for almost two weeks.

**************************************************************

Part 3

Sooooooo, let me know what you all think about this fuckery

Taglist: @lililolli​

[2manyfandoms2count]

Four months later, my contribution for the @mlwritersguild April event! The prompts were the snake, ladybug, cat, ticket and treble emojis.

Note: I started writing this after Truth and Lie aired, and I tweaked it to be set after Gang of Secrets, but before the rest of the season; it's basically what I hoped would happen before all of the Ladynoir drama unfolded this season. I hope you'll enjoy this take!

Read on AO3

---

Of irony and trust

Sometimes, Ladybug liked to take a break and muse about how ironic life could be. The topic of such instances varied from I got grounded for skipping class and of all the places in Paris, the one I had to sneak out to because of a freaking Akuma happened to be the place I would have been in had I not been grounded in the first place to I’m the holder of a luck-associated divine artefact, yet out of two love letters and a constipation medicine prescription, guess which one ended in my crush’s hands .

Tonight’s boiled down to being caught stalking her ex-boyfriend (if they’d ever made it to the defining part of their relationship) in, granted, a fairly discrete manner, since she’d been transformed at the time, to check he was still doing okay after his akumatisation, and ending up not only being thanked for her concern and for saving him, but also being apologised to for falling for Shadowmoth's promises again, something which she still considered she’d been largely responsible for (even though Alya insisted that her secret had probably just been the metaphorical last straw, and that Luka would have broken down about truths sooner or later).

She sighed, looking into the sunset as she played with the two tickets Luka had offered her by way of thanks, wondering what she could, and should do with them.

In spite of everything, Marinette was bound to get one for herself any day now; Kitty Section were opening for Jagged Stone at the annual Bastille Day concert, a week from then, and if her friends didn’t invite her directly given the circumstances, there was a high chance that she’d get an invitation from Jagged himself to thank her for designing his latest album cover.

That being said, she wasn’t sure she even wanted to go. Watching Luka play on stage would only remind her of the fact that she couldn’t be in a relationship until all the Miraculouses were back in the box, even though it had felt amazing to be distracted from Miraculous matters for a bit.

Her mind wandered to Chat Noir, who was uncharacteristically late. She was faced with a very peculiar dilemma at the moment, one she could have used Master Fu’s wisdom to resolve; on the one hand, revealing her identity to Alya had been one of the best things to happen to her in a while. She felt a lot lighter, and it really made her wonder if sharing her identity with her partner would be such a bad idea. On the other hand, her mentor’s warning and her glimpse at an alternate reality where caution had seemingly been thrown to the wind still echoed in her mind like a tolling bell.

She knew Chat Noir trusted her, like she trusted him; a lot was left unsaid in their peculiar relationship, but that was something they’d never lie about - or at least she hoped so. She also knew that having revealed her identity to somebody who wasn’t her partner, and not even telling the latter about it, was a dangerous flame to play with. One maybe hanging out with him more, say, to start, at a concert, might help dampen ever so slightly.

It wasn’t like she could invite anybody else, and especially not Adrien, anyway…

An unfamiliar thunk, followed by a short skidding sound, startled her before she could reconsider her other options, and had her scrambling to her feet to assume a defensive stance, eyes darting around to find the source of the sudden interruption. Had somebody been Akumatised? What was their power? And where on Earth was Chat N-

“Sorry, don’t panic, Ladybug! It’s just me,” a voice sounded from slightly below her, drawing her attention to the edge of the rooftop, and to the lyre that appeared to have been thrown at her feet. The magical instrument made her shake off the thought that the voice had sounded a lot like her partner’s, and sure enough, instead of the black-clad superhero, it was a green-hooded one whose head emerged from the side of the building, slightly breathless from the climb.

“Adri-, I mean, Aspik?”

“Hey,” he hoisted himself up and brushed off some white dust from his suit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I wasn’t expecting you to already be there,” he added sheepishly. “I thought I’d have time to recover from scaling the building.” He bent over, resting his hands on his knees to try and catch his breath.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” She chuckled lightly at his pun. His humour was almost as good as Chat Noir’s. “You know that the lyre does enable you climb up things, though, right?” She smiled as she plucked a chord. A music staff appeared between them, and she demonstrated by starting to climb it, as if it were an elaborate staircase. The soft notes of a scale echoed around them as her feet landed on the lines.

As she turned towards him to gauge his reaction, she saw that he looked at her with something between fascination and mild annoyance.

“Chat Noir didn’t show you, did he?” she asked, jumping down and giving him the lyre back, a small blush dusting her cheeks.

“I’m not sure he knew himself,” Aspik muttered back.

“Right." She smiled tightly. "Miraculous powers was actually something I wanted to talk to him about tonight.”

“Ah. You weren’t expecting me, then, were you?”

Ladybug paused. She’d honestly forgotten about Chat Noir asking her if he could borrow the Snake Miraculous; it had happened right after Marinette had told Alya about being Ladybug, which had kickstarted a whole lot of research to ensure her friend was protected. She’d of course managed to make it to patrols physically, but even so, her mind had been a little elsewhere.

She just remembered Chat telling her that he might be busy in the upcoming weeks, but that he refused to leave her alone on patrols. She’d felt a little guilty about the comment and apologised yet again for the ones she’d missed, but her partner had brushed it off with a smile.

“Not really, no. But I’m very glad to have you here with me!” She poked his arm as playfully as she could muster, but his cocked eyebrows told her he wasn’t fooled in the least. “To be completely honest with you… I’m not sure who I was expecting.” She smiled sadly. “We haven’t exactly discussed bringing heroes back since most of our temps’ identities were leaked, so really, it could have been anyone new, or you, or…” She glanced down at her tickets again, and his eyes followed hers.

His understanding nod turned into an inquisitive look as her gaze darkened. She had to admit that she was relieved Viperion wasn't the one Chat Noir had chosen to replace him (temporarily, her partner was absolutely irreplaceable - she made a mental note to tell him as much again the next time she saw him) tonight; she wasn't sure she would've survived two surprise conversations with him in the same day. There was just too much guilt weighing on her heart when it came to him, although she hoped that time would eventually lessen it.

“Um, Ladybug?” Her companion probed.

“Yes?” She shook herself out from her guilt-ridden daze.

“Are you alright? You seem a little… troubled.”

“It’s nothing, really.” She tried to give him a convincing smile before sitting back down on the edge of the rooftop. When had it become so hard to act bubbly around Adrien? It was kind of nice not to be a blabbering mess for once, but she wished she could feel a little more upbeat.

“Sure? I’m here if you want to talk, you know; it’s kind of in my job description.” He sat down next to her and nudged her elbow.

“You have a job description?” One of her eyebrows shot up.

“Well, you know… It’s not because Chat Noir can’t be here tonight that he doesn’t want you to feel supported.”

“My sweet, thoughtful Kitty,” she shook her head with a smile, before sighing. She didn’t notice Aspik’s cheeks pinken, just under the fangs of his mask. “To be quite honest with you, I’m a little worried about him.”

“You are?”

Ladybug paused, uncertain whether she should continue or not. Aspik’s encouraging look helped her make up her mind. “It’s just something he said not too long ago… about only having fun when he’s with me.”

“Ah.” Aspik twiddled his thumbs.

“He brushed it off like it was a completely natural thing to say, but I still find it concerning.”

“I guess the wording isn’t very reassuring,” Aspik said cautiously. “It sounds worse than it probably is, though; he does, I mean, he must have friends, and he must have fun with them. Maybe… maybe you just caught him at a bad time?”

“I suppose it had been a pretty long day.” She pouted thoughtfully after a short pause. “But I don’t know, it scares me. I… Well, things haven’t been easy in my life either, especially lately, but there’s a part of me who’s afraid to tell him just in case… in case he really meant it. I really don’t want to spoil his fun.” She bit her lip, then shook her head with a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” That was half a lie. Adrien was a friend she knew she could trust, one whose presence felt very comforting. Maybe the sunset was getting to her head, making her feel like they were above time and reality, but she almost believed that they were in a safe bubble.

“I really don’t mind, if you don’t. Miraculouses come with professional confidentiality anyway, right? Whatever you say will stay between us. I promise.” He smiled. Ladybug could tell it was genuine, but there seemed to be something brave about it, too, as if he were ready for a band aid to be ripped off. “What could you possibly tell him that would ruin his time with you?”

She looked at him lengthily, gauging him. “Firstly, I don’t want him to worry about me. And secondly…” She was about to tell him about sharing her secret identity with Alya (without naming names, of course), when the thought that if Chat wasn’t the first to learn this information, her guilt would deepen, crossed her mind. “Ugh, see? I’m doing it again, opening up about stuff that would concern him directly with other people, instead of telling him directly. I’m such a bad friend.” She put the tickets to one side and held her head in her hands.

“I don’t think you are.” She felt him pat her back tentatively. “Actually, you… You kind of remind me of one of my friends.” She peeked at him through her fingers; although his hand was still soothingly rubbing her shoulder blades, he was looking at the street below, a soft smile on his lips. “I think you know her, Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Anyway, she’s a really great person, but sometimes she makes mistakes, too. It’s alright, though, because she always means well. Like you.” He smiled at her, this time. She felt her cheeks warm as their eye contact lingered. “My point is,” he cleared his throat, “Chat Noir knows you, and trusts you, right? You just need to trust him.”

“I already do.”

“Then what are you risking? Is what you did really that bad?”

“Not in the grand scheme of things, I guess.” She paused. “I don’t think I had much choice, anyway. But even if I don't really regret what happened, I'm concerned that he won't understand why there are some things I can't open up to him, specifically, about.”

“Honestly, you'd be surprised at how much he'd be ready to let slide when it comes to your relationship," Aspik said quietly. "It's no secret how much he, erm… appreciates you."

"I love him very much, too," Ladybug whispered. "And that's why I don't want to see him hurt. Ever." Ever again , she thought. "And this… This will definitely hurt."

"Okay, but look at it this way: sparing him is an honourable reason to withhold information from him, but if you don't tell him what you can soon, it might end up hurting him even more, for instance, if he somehow learns about it from somebody else. Or, depending on how important that information is, he might feel hurt that you kept it from him for so long." He bit his lip and eyed his bracelet.

"You're right. I know you're right." She grunted and leaned back, looking at the swirling orange clouds. It reminded her of another warm sunset exchange she'd had, after spending an afternoon in what had felt like the coldest world ever. "It's just so difficult for me to wrap my head around, I can't imagine what it'll be like for him."

"You might have to give him a bit of time and space, then,” Aspik warned her. "But eventually I'm sure he'll come around."

“I hope so.” She sighed. Her yoyo beeped, signalling the end of patrol time. She hesitated to ignore it; Adrien had proven to be a very enjoyable partner - not that she’d doubted he’d be when he’d shown up, really, but something about talking about Chat Noir had helped her keep a rather level head with him. She knew she had to head back, though. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to remain coherent if they switched topic, something she felt like they'd need to do soon if she didn't want to say too much, and beyond that, she had an important essay to outline and write for the next day. “Well, I think that’s our cue. Thank you for keeping me company tonight.” She smiled, pushing herself up and holding a hand out for Aspik. He took it and she helped him up.

They stood facing each other for a bit, smiling, unsure about how to properly end the patrol. It wasn’t like they could walk each other home, really. A small gust of wind ruffled the tickets which still lay on the ground, under one of Ladybug’s feet.

“Oh, hey, you’re forgetting this.” Aspik bent down to retrieve them and handed them to her.

“Right, thanks.” She looked down. Their discussion had boosted her confidence regarding talking to Chat, but she still didn’t know who to give her second invitation to. If she gave it to anyone.

“Who’s the second ticket for?” He nodded towards her hands, as if reading her mind.

“I was actually trying to figure it out before you arrived.” She smiled. “I kind of feel like I should gift it to you as thanks for being so great. Tonight! Just tonight, of course. Although I’m sure you’re just as great every single day,” she winced at her awkwardness. “But you’re going to be there anyway, aren’t you? And on stage.”

“If I can even make it. My schedule’s been a little all over the place lately.” His eyes darkened for a fraction of a second as he toyed with his bracelet, before lighting up again so fast Ladybug thought she’d dreamt it. “But I think you and I both know who you should give this to.” He gave her a pointed look. “I think it would be a great way to butter your partner up before delivering whatever bad news you’re withholding from him.” He winked.

“Very smart. And very practical. You know, you’re a lot like Chat Noir, actually. It’s a compliment,” she added quickly as she saw him tense up.

“Well, I sure hope so, my Lady,” he chuckled. The words sounded foreign, and yet right, in the hooded boy’s mouth.

“What… what did you say?” She gaped.

“I'm obviously not used to this Miraculous, I accidently activated it when I played with it. It doesn't happen with the ring, you see." He smiled and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly as she looked on, slightly bewildered. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you won't remember any of this, but since we're here... I’d be happy to find a way to join you at the concert, my Lady." He bowed and kissed her hand. "It was lovely chat-ting with you tonight, I'm not sure I'm looking forward to what you have to tell me, but you know what? Thank you for the heads up.” He straightened up and squeezed her hand in his. "I'll be waiting for your call, after we're really done with our conversation." He placed his other hand on his wrist, and Ladybug's hand immediately flew to it, eyes almost feverish in the setting sun.

“Adrien, I mean, Aspik, Chat , wait-”

He paused, looking at her expectantly.

"Why?" Her question came out as softly as the hand that was suddenly cupping his cheek. "Why pretend you couldn't come tonight?"

"I had a couple of things I felt like maybe getting off my chest, if I got the opportunity.” He shrugged, leaning into her touch. “I just wanted to make sure I could backtrack if I made a mistake.”

“Oh." Ladybug gulped, and looked down. "Chaton, I... I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me about your own problems.” Her piercing gaze met his again as she ran her thumb along the edge of his mask. “If something’s burdening you, I’ll be more than happy to help carry the weight. You can trust me, you know that?”

“I already do my Lady.” He winked at her and kissed the palm of her hand quickly before touching his bracelet again. “Now, I don't trust you not to be mad if I run out of time, though."

"Yeah, I don't think I'd be ready to let that slide just yet." Her eyes twinkled in the dusk light.

"In that case... Second chance.”

[abluescarfonwaston]

Shapeshifter Au - 14

“So. You’re a shapeshifter huh?” Eskel asked taking a drink from his water skin. Leaning performativity casual against the stone. The mangled side of his face hidden from view.

“Yep.” He tugged the wool cap over his ears to cover against the biting cold of the courtyard. Ciri’s power sung out in frustration as she repeated the training drills over and over again. As she had been for days.

Hopefully they’d call a break soon or he would have to before she bubbled over.

His skin prickled with discomfort. Eskel hummed so quietly he’d only noticed it when Lambert had taken Ciri out hunting and they’d run into each other in the library. The tiny thrum of his magic.

“Bloody well glad for it too. I’ve no idea how you all stand winters up here as people.” He tucked his glove under the sleeve of his jacket before returning them to their spot under his armpits. “Half tempted to spend the winter as a polar bear so I don’t freeze to death.”

“You could. Lambert would be very jealous.”

“Ah but I’ve seen your very impressive bear skin rug and I’d hate to give you any ideas.”

“I wouldn’t-“

“I know.” He bumped their shoulders together. “I’m messing with you.”

A few beats pasted before Eskel burst out with a forced ease, “Lambert caught a buck last year and Geralt wouldn’t let us eat it because it looked too much like you apparently.” Eskel’s nerves made him want to fidget. But it was really far too cold to move his hands from their warm spot.

“You did eat it though right? Because otherwise that’s a huge waste.” He smiled crookedly, watching him from the corner of his eye.

“Course. He didn’t talk to us for a week.”

“And you noticed?” Eskel smirked back at him. Easily in spite of his discomfort. He smiled so easily. Eskel's amusement tickling his skin.

“It took a few days.”

Ciri’s frustration grew several decibels and he pushed off the wall. “You are far too attractive for any of our good.” He told him before he leapt from the staircase they’d rested against, soaring the space between them.

He cawed out his approach as she swung at the training dummy and-

Suddenly he was flying in the other direction.

He shifted before he smashed into the ground and rolled with the force of her shock wave.

“Ow.” He protested when he finally came to a stop in a snowbank.

After one too many moments of silence he looked up. To all the wolves gapping at Ciri and her frozen in place. Training sword held in place where the dummy had once been, now it's straw was scattered across the yard.

“I’m fine thank you for asking.” He called out. Unsticking them all as they looked to him. “Just got thrown across the courtyard. Totally fine. No need to worry about the poor bard.”

“Jaskier?” She turned, far too much concern in her eyes.

“No I am actually fine.” He assured standing and brushing snow off. Tugging the cap down to insure it stayed in place. He frowned. “Better than fine actually.” His skin was warm and his ache that had settled into his bones disappeared without a trace. The bruises he felt should have been forming didn’t. “No harm done. But I do think it’s time for a break yes?”

They nodded. “Early lunch.” Eskel agreed. As they stalked down into the hall.

They set the table as the witchers finished the meal prep and he curled up on the arm of Ciri’s chair and began finger brushing her hair so he could braid it.

“You’re not scared?” She asked as he worked free a knot.

“Of what? Cause I’m scared of a lot of things- spiders. Frogs. Wasps. Cages. A string breaking while I preform at competition-“

“Me.”

His heart broke for her and he continued his work without pause. “No. Don’t see the point in that.”

“You’re afraid of frogs but you don’t see the point in being scared of someone who threw you across the courtyard?”

“Someone has never tried to eat a frog before and nearly died from the hallucinogenic affects I see. It was not a pleasant afternoon and I feel completely justified.” He ran his fingers threw her hair once more to check before starting his braid. “You accidentally threw me across the courtyard, which Geralt has also done and most of them weren’t accidents, and I feel better than I have in years so no. I’m definitely not.”

She was quiet as he worked so he hummed a song to fill the space.

“You’re really not hurt?”

“Really not hurt.” He promised. “Haven’t felt this alive since- oh.”

“Oh?”

“Since your mother tossed the entire banquet hall away to protect your father.”

She spun her head to him and he barely managed to hold onto the braid. “You were there?”

“Front row to the whole debacle. Would you like to hear about it?”

She nodded as they heard the other’s voices down the hall. They both glanced to the door. Unable to not listen.

“Wasn’t just some sign shit Geralt- that was fucking magic. Real chaos. We don’t know shit about real magic! You can’t expect us to-“

“I know you think human hearing is terrible but it’s not that terrible boys!” He called out to them finishing the braid. “How about I tell you that story after dinner? Hm?”

She nodded. He kissed her crown and he watched her sit up. Regally. Preparing for the conversation ahead.

“Ah to suffer another meal with the witcher’s terrible table manners.” He sighed as they dropped the food on the table. “The things we must bare.”

She shot him a small smile.

“How come you didn’t tell us she had magic!” Lambert snapped at- at him?

He blinked at him. “What?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be able to tell shit like that- why didn’t you tell us!”

“Huh?” He glanced at the others at the table. Irritation or concern or confusion on their faces as they studied him. Including Geralt’s. Which was the real shocker. He looked between Geralt and Ciri; who appeared just as flummoxed by the situation as he was, as he gapped.

When it became clear that no one else was going to answer his very obvious question he forced the words out in a voice that was, perhaps, slightly higher than intended. “I thought you knew.” He told Geralt with a wave of his arms.

“How would I know?”

The incredulity in Geralt’s voice was just insulting frankly. He waved between them. Noises floundering out of him. “I- what- its- what.” He forced himself to take a deep breath. “What other blatantly obvious things am I supposed to tell you now? The sky is blue. The keep is made of stone. Ciri has magic. I thought you knew!”

Geralt sighed into his hands. Lambert speared a hunk of lunch.

“Can you tell how strong she is?” Vesemir asked pragmatically as he grabbed his own food. “If we can train her-“

“Oh you definitely can’t.” They glared at him. “What? The only one here with anything even approaching magic is Eskel and no offense but you’re nowhere near her level.”

Eskel sat up a little straighter in his seat as he devoured his lunch.

“Who is?” Geralt asked. “Near her level.”

He leaned back in his chair and thought about it. He didn’t grab any food. He wasn’t hungry and probably wouldn’t be until the magic wore off.

He’d eaten as a griffin though. His mouth tasted like blood- but he hadn’t needed to had he? He’d just wanted to. Wanted to eat and sleep and kill.

Show me what you are.

“Jaskier?” He jolted and looked over at Ciri.

“Ah. Well. You know Yennefer?” Geralt shot him a dirty look. “Just checking, you’ve had issues with amnesia before! Anyway.” He continued with a wave of his hand. “If Yennefer is lightning then Ciri is the sun.”

They all stopped. Actually that bread didn’t look half bad. He ripped a chunk off and chewed on it.

“So.” He mouthed around the bread. “She’s going to need an actual teacher.”

“Could you do it?” She asked.

“No.” He laughed around the bread crumbs. “I am magic. That doesn’t mean I can do magic.”

“Marigold?” Lambert suggested. Triss- he supplied after a moment.

“Sure.” He agreed. “After Yennefer turns us down.”

The room dropped several degrees as he chewed.

“Why would we ask Yennefer first?” Eskel growled.

Geralt sighed. “Because if we don’t she’ll never let the slight go.”

“Is” Ciri hesitated, taking in the faces around the room. “She that bad?”

He wobbled his head. “Well.” He drew out the word. Thinking of all the times she’d treated him like nothing- like less than nothing. Like something that had once had great value but was now irrevocably broken.

And then he thought of the other mage. So much weaker and yet able to dominate him completely.

How Yennefer had never done that. Had never wanted that. Even though it would have been so easy.

And then he thought of Ciri and how much she needed Yennefer. How her chaos swelled and terrified her. How Yennefer was lighting in a bottle and might be the only one who could teach her to control the sun.

And then. Then he followed the djinn’s magic in Geralt’s chest to the lightning in her veins. To the longing in her chest.

She wanted something real.

“No.” He said at last. “We all just took Geralt in the breakup.” He grinned easily.

There were several snorts and Geralt glared fiercely at him.

“You.” Ciri glanced between him and Geralt. Trying to judge the situation. “Dated her?”

“That’s a word for it.” Lambert grinned nastily into his ale. “I’d call it-“

Geralt smacked him.

“Why’d they break up- I hear you asking.”

“She didn’t!” Geralt growled.

“But she would given the opportunity.” He smirked as Lambert shoved him in retaliation. Distracting him. “And the answer is Geralt makes terrible life choices.”

She softly laughed and he counted it amongst his greatest victories.

“What can you shift into?” Vesemir asked, pointedly not looking up from his book, where they all gathered around the fire before bed. A storm howled outside. He suspected if not for the warmth of Ciri’s magic he’d be frozen from the draft alone. The impressive amount of furs Lambert was wrapped in strengthened his conclusion. He adjusted the cap over his ears anyway. “Geralt’s only mentioned beasts before but when you meet back up he said you were a griffin.”

Geralt tensed against his back and Ciri glanced back at him from where she was propped against his legs. He turned the page, even though he hadn’t finished reading it, to show how nonplussed he was by the question.

Over the years he’d only ever explained what he could do, what it meant, his limitations perhaps a handful of times. There were so few people in the world he’d trust with this.

His life he trusted to a great many friends. But this. This was his freedom.

“Suppose I’ve never felt like a griffin before.” He didn’t intend to feel like one ever again. “Or had the magic needed to follow through on such an impulse.”

“So if you had the magic,” Vesemir glanced at Ciri, “And felt like it you could be anything?”

“Well I think you’re underestimating the importance of feeling like it but I suppose that’s the general stroke of it.”

“Have you been a bed? A chair? That’d be real helpful I bet. Hide in a broom closet and just. Be a broom til the mob passes.”

“Have you ever really felt like an inanimate object Lambert?” He shrugged. “Shifting into a mouse usually accomplishes the same goal anyway.”

“If you shifted into the monsters in the bestiary Ciri could safely apply the skills she learns on how to identify and best the different creatures.” Vesemir stated.

Ah. Now he knew why Vesemir had brought this up when Geralt had clearly told them not to, based on the way they’d all danced around their questions since he’d arrived. Well. Except Lambert, but he'd only arrived a few days passed.

“The day I turn into a necrophage is the day I die. Seen more than enough of their innards over the years to know that’s never going to be in the cards thank you very much.”

“Alright no necrophages. But anything you could shift into we could add a far more detailed description of to the bestiary. Updated drawings. Behavioral notes-“ Eskel seemed remarkably enthused about the idea.

He thought about how empty the library was. Figured there was probably a reason for that.

“He’s not a party trick.” Geralt snapped, very valiantly.

“No, no it’s fine.” They all looked so excited by the prospect. Ciri’s eyes were gleaming. He itched under the cap. Hats were really not his look. But it was better than his hair. “Requests? I make no promises about being able to do it but I can certainly try.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt warned.

“I’ve got energy to burn after this morning.” He reassured waving his hand in Geralt’s face behind him. “Which you should know given the bonfire you made when you used igni to light the fireplace.”

“That was cause of you?”

“Pretty sure.” He nodded to Eskel. “Requests? Or shall I go back to my book?”

“A unicorn?” Ciri asked.

Simple enough in theory but, “They’re extinct.” A sad truth Geralt had confirmed years ago. “I’d rather not be the last of my kind.”

Are you the last unclaimed familiar? There are so few of you in this world. The mage had said. Had he ever met any? Where their thousands of people like him who hid in small mage-less towns or wild unkempt forests. Who didn’t shift and stayed safe in a single form their whole lives?

Maybe there were countless people like him and he’d just never recognized them- how would he recognize them? Maybe there were loads of them and he just didn’t know where to look.

Or maybe he was one of the last. One of the last whose mind wasn’t held under chaotic waters to drown until he forgot everything he was.

Maybe he was one of the last.

Then where had they gone? There were days long past where every sorcerer, mage and druid had a familiar. Someone like him.

He’d never met any who did. Not that he'd met many.

“You could do the griffin again. Since we know you can shift into that.” Eskel suggested.

Geralt’s arm squeezed at his bicep. Like he suspected what a bad idea that was.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to see the form that hadn’t recognized him even a little.

“You could always try a dragon.” Geralt teased before leaning in and whispering right into his ear. “You don’t have to. We can just leave.”

The sparkle in Ciri’s eye grew.

“The only issue there- since I now know they’re real- is that I’ve never seen a living one. That egg does not count!”

“Borch wasn’t dead?”

“What?” He snapped around blazing fury. “Borch was a dragon?”

“You. Missed that part?”

“I am now Extra mad you didn’t wake me up. I could have seen a living dragon? You ass!”

“Not my fault you slept in!”

“Do you want to play the blame game about that day- because I definitely think missing seeing a living dragon is one of the lesser issues I could choose to be angry about.” He collapsed into Geralt’s lap and glared up at him. “Hm? Hmmmm?”

Geralt looked away but nodded.

“Glad we agree. Alrighty let’s see what I can do.” He climbed off the back of the couch. He was irritated and wanted to impress his cub. His mate’s family. That would help. Probably.

He shifted up into a bear. Because it was easier to feel big when one was big.

Lambert whistled.

What had he grabbed onto to become a griffin anyway?

He’d been caged. He was cold. He was alone and unwanted but not powerless.

He wasn’t powerless now. He could protect-

His mouth was full of blood.

The form snapped under him. Dropping him down until his heart raced and his incisors grated against each other and his ears were tight against his back and-

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s hand reached down to hold him and he shifted up to meet it. Tail wagging slowly even as his ears stayed folded back. “That’s enough.”

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t enough.

They liked his songs well enough but that was all he had. He wasn’t pretty or handsome with his terrible hair shoved into an ugly winter toque and Geralt's ill fitting clothing and he wasn’t strong or helpful or a good cook. He couldn’t teach Ciri magic. Couldn’t hunt them more food even as he ate theirs.

No wonder your mate’s dead.

No wonder your mate didn’t want you.

Maybe she’ll make a better travel companion then.

They’d asked one thing of him and he couldn’t even do it.

It was easy to be a form he loved.

He didn’t love the griffin.

He didn’t love what it had done. Even if it had saved him.

He was scooped into strong arms and there was a dismissal of “Bedtime,” and he tried to swallow the sounds escaping his throat. Tried to stop the way his paws shifted to claws shifted to wings.

He couldn’t even do this. Couldn’t even be something useful.

Sure he could be a horse and carry them when Roach got tired. Could scout as a raven or pull buckthorn from a river without risk of drowning. But all the wolves and all the cats and Witchers knew he wasn’t useful. He didn’t want to be.

And when he wanted to be he couldn’t.

“Jaskier.” Geralt repeated under the blankets in their bed. “Talk to me.”

There was a request there- what shape do you want me to be- I’ll stay that way forever if it means you’ll keep me. Please.

“Thank you. Can you tell me what’s wrong? You haven’t done,” He grit his teeth as he pulled him in closer to his chest. “That in a long time.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s not.” Geralt squeezed the back of his neck. Tension leached from him. Geralt nuzzled at the toque pushing it up with his nose.

He grabbed it. Pulling it down firmly. “Don’t.”

“Jaskier.” He plead.

He curled tighter in on himself and pulled the hat over his eyes. “Just couldn’t find a form that fit. Hope you got me out of there before it got too repulsive- although maybe Ciri will appreciate knowing she’s not the only one who can’t control her magic right? Gotta find the little victories.”

“Jaskier what’s this really about?”

“Nothing.”

Geralt grumbled his frustration.

It wasn’t. It wasn’t about anything.

It was about how maybe he was the last of his people- his family- and it was about how his form wasn’t what he needed it to be and it was about the things he’d done that he couldn’t remember and didn’t want to and the blood in his mouth and it wasn’t about any of that.

He was scared and frustrated and alone and not good enough and-

“Is Jaskier okay?” Ciri called from the crack in the door.

He shifted out of the bed to her despite Geralt’s protests.

“I’m alright.” He leaned against the door frame. “I’m sorry for scaring you- I know its very upsetting looking when I shift like that.” He didn't know but the way Geralt paled after an attack like that was proof enough.

“Was that because I asked you to shift? Or because of this morning?”

“No.” He crooned. “No. I-“ He paused. Took her hands in his. “It was like this morning. You got frustrated and your magic responded. My shifting responds to my emotions too so when I got overwhelmed that happened. But it doesn’t hurt.” The emotions that caused it hurt. But the shifting didn’t at least. “Promise I’m okay.”

She watched him sternly.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes and rolled back on his heels. Sweeping a hand in front of his face dramatically. “I’m very worried Yennefer responds quickly to our message because she always looks immaculate and I am really not a hat person.”

“Really?” Her lips curved upward just a twitch.

“Ciri dear I am wearing Geralt’s clothing! I haven’t worn a color in months. Months!” He slid down the door frame and pressed a hand to his forehead. “I’m dying. Melitele forbid Yennefer see me like this. My reputation will be ruined. Ruined!”

Ciri huffed out a laugh. “Oh no. How terrible.”

“It is! I could hear the sarcasm in your tone but I am ignoring it for the sake of our friendship!” Geralt picked him up and threw him over his shoulder. “The audacity! The horror!” He continued to lament as they bid good night.

Geralt dumped him in the bed. “Gonna tell me what it was actually about now?”

“I am genuinely concerned about meeting Yennefer looking like this.” Geralt scowled down at him. “Would you feel confident and prepared if you had to face a monster without your armor?”

“Yennefer isn’t a monster.”

“You’re missing the point. I like how I look. I know it’s just hair and I know it’s just clothing but I don’t look like me. I don’t feel like me. I’m wandering the woods without armor and even when I’m not being attacked it’s still scary because I know how easy it would be to bleed me out.”

Geralt considered that and slowly sat down next to him. “Okay. I don’t know how to fix that.”

“Time will fix it. I’ll visit a proper barber and my tailor in the spring and all will be well again.” He knew that. He did. It just didn't make it easier.

He nodded. Tilted his head and looked at his face. Then dragged his gaze lower to the way his body did and didn’t fill out Geralt’s clothing. “I like how you look.”

“Sure you do.”

Geralt pushed him back in the bed. Leaning over him. “I do.” A hand came up to his head and pushed under the hat. He tensed but Geralt made no move to pull it off. “You’re not a hat person. I don’t mind that your hair’s not perfect cause it’s still soft and smells like you.”

His other hand and down the fabric of his shirt. “I like you in my clothing because it makes you smell like me. Like you’re mine. Even if it’s not what you’d normally wear.”

He hummed. “You want to show me just how much you like it?”

“I do.” He laced his fingers behind Geralt’s neck and tried to pull him down for a kiss. He didn’t move. “Was that really all that was?”

He closed his eyes. “No. But I don’t really want to get into all of it tonight.”

“Okay.” He said. But didn’t move closer.

He sighed. “What do you think it was? What’s worrying you?”

“You’re still angry about the mountain.”

“Hm. I did apparently miss a chance to see a living dragon so.”

“Mhm.”

He grabbed Geralt and rolled him to his side. “Geralt you’re a terrible liar. And if you hadn’t meant what you’d said, at least a little I’d never have believed you.”

“I was trying to break the bond. I thought I forced you into this life Jaskier.”

“Just like you forced Yennefer?”

He flinched.

“If you’d asked I’d have told you. That I was the one that bound you. That I hadn’t meant to do it and didn’t know what I was doing when I did but that I didn’t regret the time I spent with you. But you did. You regretted our time together.”

His gold eyes squeezed closed. He took several steadying breaths. His thumb stroking a strand of hair that had escaped the hat. “Not everything’s about you Jaskier.”

He frowned but resisted the urge to squawk about how it definitely seemed like it was about him.

“I was hurting from Yennefer and scared I had trapped you and terrified for the child of surprise I’d cursed just like you two. And I’m still terrified Jaskier. I don’t know how to be a father.”

“I’m not sure anyone does. I mean how many kids has Vesemir raised? And I’d be real surprised if he thought he knew how to do it proper.”

“Lambert’s good at keeping him humble.”

“That he is. It’s going to be okay. You’re not doing this alone.” He took Geralt’s face in his hands and traced the grain of his stubble. “Besides. I bet Yennefer’s going to roll up and out-parent both of us so hard that I can safely retire to my true calling of fun uncle.”

“Lambert’s teaching her how to make bombs. I think he’s got that position claimed.”

“Ah well I’ll figure out something.”

“Sure you will.” He smirked.

He propped himself up over Geralt, shoving him onto his back. “Alright I really need to kiss that damn look off your face. We good?”

Geralt smiled and pulled him down into a kiss. “We’re good.”

He walked the wall while the others trained in the courtyard. They couldn’t really expect him to work by himself.

They’d asked him if he wanted to join. Or less asked and more told him to when they'd arrived.

He thought he’d sent a fairly clear message when he flipped them the bird become becoming an actual bird and flying away. Spent the afternoon gathering dirt on all of them. Their horses were just so eager to share.

He’d spent a lot of time and energy not learning how to fight and he wasn’t going to change now just because he was living with witchers.

In a big crumbling keep.

It kind of looked like a fortress. A castle. Like something out of a storybook.

They did already have a princess.

How hard would it be to have a dragon?

He fluttered over a broken section of wall.

His keep shouldn’t have broken sections of wall. How was he supposed to keep his hoard safe?

Cause dragons had hoards. And were fiercely protective of them. He assumed.

What would he hoard? Instruments maybe. Admirers. Books.

Laughter roared in the courtyard. He looked down at them. At his family.

His.

Care for. Love. Protect.

He leapt between the stone’s crenellations.

What else made dragons dragons?

Old. Wise. Powerful.

Well there had to young stupid dragons. He could fill that niche. At least he was powerful. He had the sun warming his bones.

Prideful.

They were beautiful.

He wasn’t right now.

But he could be. He could be whatever he wanted.

The edge of the crenellation crumbled under his feet and he began tumbling down the steep walls to the cliffs below.

“What else can he turn into? Can he turn into a shrieker? A unicorn? A dragon?”

He spread his wings and twisted into the sky.

Freedom. It felt like freedom.

He loved to shift.

He loved this form.

He circled his home. His nest. His hoard, gathered in the courtyard as he landed.

“Fucking hell.”

He settled on the steps into the courtyard and tucked his chin over the edge to watch them back.

“That one’s new.” Geralt told them unhelpfully.

Rude. He huffed at Geralt. All hot air. The snow that had collected on his armor and hair melted.

“You’re a dragon!” Ciri marveled as she slowly reached out to touch him. Her small hand roving over the scales of his face. He rumbled his approval.

“Show off.” He smacked Geralt with the tip of his tail without looking away from Ciri.

“You’re so fucking warm!” Lambert was plastered over his flank. “I’m stealing your bard for the rest of the winter.”

“No you’re not.”

“It’s too damn cold in the keep. He’s mine now. Jaskier you’re mine now. I claim dibs.”

He’s got dibs Geralt. Guess I’m his now.

“That is not how this works.”

“It definitely is.” He’s right. It definitely is.

Geralt turned and started to walk away. He hauled him back by the scruff of his shirt.

Eskel leaned against him. “Not that I’ve seen a lot of dragons but-“

Creative liberties.

“Not going to be terribly educational then.” Vesemir sighed pretending not to be leaning into his warmth as much as he was.

I’m very educational. I’ve taught her what a red dragon might look like.

“Ciri this isn’t what red dragons look like.”

“It’s what a red dragon looks like.” He nuzzled her in approval.

It’s what your red dragon looks like. He pointed out.

“I suppose it is.” Lambert and Eskel made retching noises at Geralt. "What our red dragon looks like."

Ours. His chest broke out in a mighty purr. His hoard.

His family.

[badsext]

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

Masked Hearts: Robert Sheehan x Reader (fem)

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

____________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Miss, your food is ready.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Rob.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds nice.”

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

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

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

Update: Smut filled 🌶 Part 2

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

[bookishbarnowl]

“I’m a person!”

The intimidation technique didn’t seem to phase the cocky teen. He smirked. “Techno, you gotta show me what’s wrong,” he goaded.

Break his leg, the AI suggested, but he blocked that out. He refused to play charades with the pint-sized terror.

In a post-apocalyptic world where the remaining survivors live in secure underground bases, Techno is a metal heart among dozens of warm, beating ones. That doesn't stop him from embracing his humanity, but it also means he has a few weaknesses others don't.

Warnings: Mild dehumanization (resolved)

Relationships: Technoblade & Tommy, Techno & Tommy & Wilbur

Word Count: 1,849

Ao3 Link: Here

Here’s a Wingdings translator if anyone wants to follow what Techno’s saying, but don’t feel like you need to, it’s not really plot relevant. Almost all of it is him threatening Tommy. :)

https://lingojam.com/WingdingsTranslator

Technoblade stormed down the hallway, mechanical limbs pounding against the floor of the bunker with resounding clangs as he stopped bothering to lighten his footsteps. Stealth was not a priority right now. He cranked up the volume on his voicebox, uncaring that no one could currently understand him. He was sick and tired of his Tommy’s ridiculous pranks, and changing his language settings while he was recharging was the last straw.

“❄︎□︎❍︎❍︎⍓︎!” he roared in his default android language, slamming doors open and shut as he searched. Other personnel quickly caught on to his current temper and promptly got out of his way, retreating to the parts of the base he’d already searched.

Yeah, faster, the broken AI jeered in the back of his head, spurring him on. He growled and tried to ignore it, but picked up the pace anyway. He was done.

He finally found Tommy and Wilbur in the latter’s bedroom, playing a video game together and bickering happily. He flung open the door with a bang and grabbed the remote, turning the TV off as they both yelled indignantly.

“✡︎□︎◆︎🕯︎♎︎ ♌︎♏︎⧫︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎ ♐︎♓︎⌧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ❒︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎ ■︎□︎⬥︎,” he snapped at Tommy, positively radiating anger.

The intimidation technique didn’t seem to phase the cocky teen. He smirked. “Aww, Techno, I can’t understand you. What exactly is the matter?”

“👍︎◆︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♍︎❒︎♋︎◻︎📪︎ ♓︎⧫︎🕯︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♐︎◆︎■︎■︎⍓︎📬︎ ✋︎🕯︎❍︎ ♎︎□︎■︎♏︎.” he replied, his face darkening. He wasn’t going to negotiate.

“Techno, you gotta show me what’s wrong,” Tommy goaded.

Break his leg, the AI suggested, but he blocked it out.

“✋︎ ❒︎♏︎♐︎◆︎⬧︎♏︎📬︎ 🕈︎♏︎ ♌︎□︎⧫︎♒︎ 🙵■︎□︎⬥︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎🕯︎⬧︎ ⬥︎❒︎□︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ♑︎□︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⬧︎⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♍︎♒︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♌︎♋︎♍︎🙵 □︎❒︎ ⬧︎□︎ ♒︎♏︎●︎◻︎ ❍︎♏︎-” he broke off, gritting his teeth and distractedly registering the AI trying to convince him to commit a war crime. He crossed his arms, resentment and fury pooling in his stomach. He was not playing charades with the pint-sized terror.

Wilbur was looking back and forth between the two of them, observant enough to piece together the situation. He was also partially fluent in the android tongue, enough to probably pick up one or two keywords in Techno’s rapid-fire speech.

“⬧︎ ◻︎ ♏︎ ♏︎ ♍︎ ♒︎ ⬧︎ ⧫︎ ◆︎ ♍︎ 🙵,” Techno enunciated clearly in his direction, slow enough that he could pick it up, then switched back into his regular talking speed. “❄︎□︎❍︎❍︎⍓︎ ✋︎ ♋︎❍︎ ♎︎♏︎♋︎♎︎ ⬧︎♏︎❒︎♓︎□︎◆︎⬧︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♐︎◆︎■︎■︎⍓︎.”

“Voice… trapped? Stuck?” Wilbur translated. “And something about death? I heard the word Tommy…” He rounded on his brother. “What did you do to him?”

Tommy was trying hard not to laugh, which only made Techno feel worse. “It was just a prank,” he defended. “Isn’t it hilarious? Go on, try and say something else,” he prodded.

Techno didn’t move, mouth stubbornly shut. Some of his anger was eating away into humiliation, which he was sure was the worst emotion in existence. He quashed the feeling and tried to get back to being infuriated.

Oooh, someone’s embarrassed, the AI mocked. Scared, even? Ah, and there’s the helplessness.

Sometimes the voice cut deeper than it had any right to. Techno growled again, the sound rumbling menacingly through his entire body as he determinedly refused to dwell on those statements. He fixed Tommy with a glare that would have most people in the base quivering in fear, but he had the audacity to grin back at him.

“Techno, you’ve gotta ask me for help if you want it fixed,” he taunted, standing up with a hand on his hip as Wilbur looked torn. “The great Blade’s gotta admit he needs help.”

That was the tipping point for Techno.

“G̵͙͊ẽ̷̮t̵̜̽ ̶̬̆r̵͉͐i̸ḑ̴͂ ̶̧̂ō̷̜f̷ ̵̼͘t̷̑h̶̽is ̵͎̾n̸̠͑o̷̦͘w̸̠̃,” he snarled, brute forcing his way through the sloppily installed language blockers in sheer rage. His eyes flashed red and the claws stored in his finger joints slid out against his will, the voice in his head cackling as oily tears started leaking from his eye sockets.

Wilbur’s eyes widened and he jumped up, grabbing a screwdriver off of the desk and cautiously approaching the crying android. Tommy looked taken aback, his expression dissolving into something more sheepish.

“⚐︎ ■︎ ❍︎ ⍓︎ ♌︎ ♋︎ ♍︎ 🙵,” Techno instructed Wilbur carefully, directing him to the detachable panel on his lower back. He closed his eyes and tried to get a grip on his emotions, retracting his claws and silencing his snickering commentator.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Tommy sputtered, backpedaling.

“Then get over here and fix it,” Wilbur told him severely. The teen hung his head and came over to help Wilbur get the panel off, revealing the computer screen embedded into the metal there that Tommy had used to hack into Techno.

Techno shivered as he felt the two of them start going through the code looking for Tommy’s software, exceptionally conscious that they literally had his entire being at their fingertips. A few malicious clicks, and he could be altered in any number of ways.

Phil had tried to help him update the security on his data so things like that wouldn’t be possible, but his system seemed to vehemently reject any permanent alterations to his code and always did a system reboot afterwards to purge the new protections. He suspected the busted AI he shared a headspace with was behind it. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to care about short-term add-ons like the one Tommy had undoubtedly used.

He trusted both of them. He did, and no amount of pranks would change that. If he didn’t they wouldn’t be behind him right now, painstakingly removing the last traces of the language blocker. But sometimes they went too far. He felt used and taken advantage of. And that was not okay with him.

As soon as they got his back panel reattached, he left, ignoring their worried questions about if he was okay or not. He needed some time alone, and there was only one place no one would want to follow him.

He made his way to the airlock and grabbed a pack, slinging it over his shoulders and grabbing a blaster off the rack on the wall. Pulling a shield down over his face, he punched his code into the computer by the exit and signed himself out, then allowed the airlock to seal behind him.

The huge door slid open with a hiss in front of him, letting him out into the wasteland. The face shield protected him from the dust particles the inexhaustible wind dragged across every surface, and his metal body meant he didn’t have to deal with an oxygen tank or protective suit like the rest of the residents in the base. He scanned the area around the base with a keen eye, clipped his blaster to his hip, and set off into the desert.

He didn’t go far, barely beyond the next hill, but it was enough to make him feel like he was the only one in the world, which was what he wanted.

Lonely, lonely, lonely, the AI chanted in his head, and he pushed it away. Solitude helped him think.

But his peace didn’t last very long. The sound of clumsy footsteps stumbling through the dirt reached his ears, and he bowed his head and internally groaned. Someone had come after him, and it sure didn’t sound like Phil. A few more seconds of waiting would tell him which of the two less tolerable options he’d gotten. He considered running farther away, certain he could outdistance whichever it was, but if it was Tommy he’d just doggedly follow. And Wilbur would feel hurt. So he stayed put.

Leave him behind, the voice commanded. Shut up, he told it.

Sure enough, a moment later Tommy all but tripped over the crest of the hill and joined him at the bottom with a little help from gravity, breathing hard through the oxygen mask and making a vain attempt to brush the sheen of sweat off a brow covered by his helmet.

“These suits are so awkward to walk in,” he started, voice coming through the speakers in the aforementioned suit with a slightly tinny distortion. It was obviously an attempt to break the ice, though a pretty terrible one since Techno had no need for the bulky garments. He took the bait anyway, might as well get this over with.

“You were still pigheaded enough to come after me in one,” he replied.

“Well, uh, Wilbur put me up to it, y’know, and Big Man TommyInnit’s never one to back down from a challenge, eh?”

“Did you at least sign out a firearm before you left?”

“Nah. Who’s gonna mess with these guns?” he cracked, flexing non-existent arm muscles. Not that you could tell through the suit. The thick fabric made even someone like Phil, one of their best scouts, look like they’d rolled in marshmallows. The corner of Techno’s lip twitched in spite of himself.

Heh, Lonely Man thinks the Stupid Child is funny- He shoved it back again. Get some more creative insults, he thought.

“If you get jumped by a monster I will laugh at your corpse,” he warned.

“You wouldn’t, you love me too much,” Tommy sniggered, punching his shoulder.

“You’re right, I do,” he responded, unexpectedly serious.

The change in mood was not lost on Tommy, and his laugh quieted. “I love you too, man,” he returned. “I’m, um, really sorry about earlier. That was too far.”

“It was,” Techno agreed noncommittally.

“I shouldn’t mess with your code.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I’m not going to stop playing pranks on you.”

He sighed. “I knew my expectations were too high.”

“But I won’t hack you again.”

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the apology. “Messin' with living code is a serious invasion of privacy.”

“Yeah,” Tommy whispered, guilt heavy on his tone. “But I wouldn’t hurt you, you know that right?”

“Of course I do,” he reassured him. He was rarely the one to initiate physical contact, but this time he made an exception, leaning over for a one-armed hug. Tommy leaned into him, but his personality wouldn’t let the silence continue for long.

“So whaddya say we go back and make Wilbur wish he’d never sent me out to reunite the dream duo?” he blurted, grin wide and looking like it had never left.

Techno didn’t bother hiding the upward quirk of his lip this time. “Let’s go beat up a nerd.”

[gerberbabey]

cocaine | kiara carrera

madison bailey rlly met her gf ON TIKTOK, thats wild and now i see that my chances arent as low as i believe. anyways love that for them.

writing this made me so damn depressed. like if anyone would like to fall in love w me, im just here...chillin.

masterlist | cocain series: 2 | 3 

summary: Kiara falls in love with someone who isn’t willing to love anymore (story inspired by the mentioned song and this scene).

warnings: that gay shit, cursing, angst, underage drug use, underage drinking, mentions of dying, unrequited love?

♫ Cocaine by Pink Sweat$ ♫

Kooks could talk as much shit as they wanted but it didn’t exactly stop them from showing up at the boneyard for a kegger. They whined and complained about Pogues but still came around to the other side of the island because they knew they would have a good time.

“It’s like watching National Geographic,” Kie winced and you sputtered out a laugh, stumbling back as you tried to keep the water from dripping onto your clothes. There was a pocket of Kooks jumping around to the music, moving in a weird sort of unison that was both stiff and awkward.

“Ew,” Kie laughed as you leaned forward to spit out the water that you had been trying to drink. To be honest it wasn’t that funny of a comment but you were also high of your ass so everything was hilarious.

“I can’t breathe,” you huffed out and Kie had to hold you steady when you stumbled into her. You were laughing so hard that it was at that point where you weren’t even making any noise. She couldn’t stop herself from laughing because of how hard you were laughing.

“Oh my god (Y/N) it wasn’t even that funny!”

“Then why are you laughing?!”

“Because you’re laughing!”

The two of you burst out into another fit of giggles as you wrapped your arms around the girl, resting your head on her chest as she wrapped her arms around you and struggled to keep the two of you standing.

“Are you two ok?” Pope walked up to the two of you just as you stumbled into the sand in a laughing heap. You let out one giggled and took in a deep breath as you stared up at Pope, your head hazy and heavy.

“Chillin dude,” you drawled out and Pope shook his head before he helped the two of you up. Kia brushed off the sand from her curls and you gave an aggressive shake of your head as you brushed out the sand from hair at the same time. Kie let out a noise and Pope stepped back to avoid any sand flying at him.

When you stopped you stumbled to straighten up. Everything around you was moving fast and yet slow at the same time and you let out a laugh.

Kie couldn’t help but look at you with a dopey look on her face. She wished she could tell you just how much she loved you. The day Kie had realized she was in love with her best friend was a bit of a stressful one. Kie was a firm believer of the “No Pogue on Pogue macking rule”. Not only did she believe it would change everything if broken, she also didn’t want to have a reason to be tied down to the Outer Banks. She loved her friends, her family, and her life on the island but she knew she was capable of so much more. Deep down in her heart she knew that she was meant to travel the world. That the best way for her to succeed was to get out of the Outer Banks and into the world.

But then one day she looked into your eyes and knew she loved you. That she was in love with you.

You were friends with the Pogues before she’d joined the group but you were the first one she met. You met the rest of the Pogues through JJ, and then had integrated Kie into the group after you started working at The Wreck.

After the betrayal of Sarah Cameron and the pain she went through being ostracized by her entire school, meeting you and then the boys had been her saving grace. Sure you weren’t jumping to your feet to try and help baby sea turtles into the ocean, but you always listened to her. You understood her.

“I mean everyone’s freaking out about plastic straws but the cups are like...more plastic,” you added to her rant and she nodded enthusiastically.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”

She was pretty much convinced the two of you were soulmates the day you had played her a playlist that you made just for her.

Yet even though she was so head over heels in love there was too many reasons why she couldn’t tell you.

One of the biggest reasons was your lack of faith in love and relationships. Convincing you that falling in love and being in love was a good thing proved to be a difficult feat. You’d been hurt so much by the concept of love that you’d moved past the point of thinking you’d ever fall in love. You left it behind and believed wholeheartedly that it wasn’t something meant for you. You didn’t believe in marriage and didn’t believe that you would ever find that person. You’d stopped looking and that meant that you couldn’t and wouldn’t see Kie in the way she wished you would.

“Yo (Y/N)!”

You and your friends turned at that and Kie watched you grin as you ran up to the boy who called you. You jumped into his arms and Kie bit her lip.

“Dude! What the fuck is up?!” You yelled as the boy laughed and let you down. You were jumping around excitedly, “Yo when did you get home?”

“Yesterday.”

“Who’s that?” Kie asked JJ and the boy turned to look at what she was talking about.

“Huh? Oh that’s Quincy, he graduated last year I think? Went to the Navy or something, him and (Y/N) were really close.”

“Oh.”

Kie wondered why she never heard about Quincy.

“Kie!!!” You waved her over and Kie pushed down that weird feeling that was rising up and hid it with a smile. She moved to stand by you and tried not preen when you took her hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and holding on tight. She hoped that Quincy would conclude that she was yours. (You may not have been hers, but she was wholeheartedly yours).

“Kie this Quincy. He was my fuckin plug before he left,” you laughed and Quincy crossed his arms and gave you a look. Kie felt a little relieved but then thought about this.

“Didn’t you start smoking when you were like...in middle school?” Kie asked and Quincy laughed while you shrugged.

“Yeah, can you imagine how I felt seeing this 12 year old asking me if I sold?”

Kie tried not to cringe. You’d been smoking for way longer than she’d known you. Your tolerance surpassed JJ, likely because of your lack of tolerance breaks. Kie could argue that at least you’d only smoked weed and hadn’t dove into other, harder drugs. The one time you had, Kie nearly had a heart attack and the boys almost killed a boy for urging you to take it.

You’d told her once that you just really liked how being high made you feel. The strain you smoked made you feel relaxed. It eased your mind and your body.

You told her that you started smoking after your parents separated. They’d fallen out of love and decided that rather than being adults and dealing with their issues themselves, they’d put the weight and stress of their problems onto your shoulders. A year later you had decided you were going to quit because you’d fallen in love with your boyfriend of a year and a half. You nearly did stop getting high, but then your boyfriend broke up with you, didn’t tell you you why, and then ghosted you.

3 days later he’d posted about his new girlfriend (he’d reassured you nothing was going on between them when you were together. The time stamp of the filtered picture told you and everyone else otherwise).

Kie wanted to spite the people who’d led to the walls you built around your heart.

You had guided Kie and Quincy back over to the other Pogues and Kie couldn’t help but cling to you that night. She didn’t like Quincy’s familiarity with you. It was kind of childish really but it’d been a while since you’d looked eager to interact with anybody who weren’t the Pogues. Kie’s heart skipped a beat when she realized how absolutely ok you were with her holding and touching you.

“Hey...(Y/N)?”

“Hmm..?”

The two of you were laying in her bed. The kegger had ended some time ago and though the two of you would’ve usually stayed at the Chateau with the boys, she’d decided she wanted to spend the rest of her night alone with you. She’d appreciated Quincy taking the two of you to her house.

“You really don’t think you’re going to get married?” she questioned quietly and she watched you open your eyes and look into her own.

“Hm...Yeah. Probably not,” you told her honestly.

“Why not?”

“...I don’t know. I don’t think I’d want to commit to someone that much. Plus...I don’t think anyone would wanna commit to being with me either.”

Kie would.

“But what if someone loves you...so so much, but you just won’t open yourself up to them? Would you really risk losing that before you even know it?”

You stayed silent at that. This was something that constantly went through your mind. sometimes you thought about those “what if” moments constantly. What if you’d given that boy a chance? Would you be in love with him now? Would the two of you be happy?

Yet you also thought: but maybe the two of you would be miserable instead. Maybe it would just lead to more pain.

“I don’t know if I could deal with being hurt because of love again.”

“...Ok...”

The two of you eventually drifted off to sleep. Kie’s chest hurt but she dreamt about kissing you.

Kie sometimes wished that she could be the one to bring your heart out of its hiding place. She wanted to be the person that you were willing to finally love. She wanted you to toss aside the risk of getting hurt because she’d make it clear to you that she would never hurt you.

JJ had gotten too high once, and had told her that you and him sometimes went to the dock and just sat there in silence. That the two of you would allow your worries to ease just by being beside one another and that you both knew that even without talking, or venting, or even smoking, you understood how JJ felt and JJ understood how you felt.

Kie wanted that.

She wished she didn’t have to push so hard for you to feel comfort in her, but she would continue pushing nonetheless. Despite how close the two of you were as friends, vulnerable moments were rare with you. 

“Kie, I need you to leave this alone ok? It’s seriously not any of your business,” you’d tried to shake her off and she only became angrier. The boys had shuffled out of the room the moment you’d walked in with Kie yelling at you.

She had went to pick you up and caught you snorting a line of...something, in your room.

“None of my business!? I can’t just let you hurt yourself like this (Y/N)!”

“Kie you smoke with me! Fucking weed is killing me just as much as any other drug would! If you cared so much then don’t cherry pick what you decide to care about!”

“Don’t ever tell me how I feel!”

“God you’re not my fucking mom Kie, just stop!”

“No (Y/N)!”

You’d stormed off after that argument. Out of all the people in your life you thought Kie would be the last person the chastise you for anything you did. You thought she understood. Kie felt terrible when you didn’t come around to the Chateau or even talk to her and the Pogues for the rest of the day. Kie’s heart was in your hands and you were squeezing.

The next day, Kie had bursted into your room crying.

“You can’t be mad at me for just wanting you to be ok...” she sobbed and you held her tight to you. 

“I know Kie, I know. I’m sorry,” you mumbled into her hair before you gave her a kiss on the forehead. She pulled back to look at you and she took in the worried expression on your face. She was hyper aware of the feeling of your thumbs stroking her cheek. Kie shut her eyes and leaned forward to press her lips onto yours.

Her heart broke into a million pieces when you gasped and backed away.

“Oh my god...” Kie sobbed and stood from where the two of you had clung to each other on your bed, “I’m sorry-I just..I’m gonna go-” 

You couldn’t say a word as you watched Kie rush out of your room.

“Fuck!” she yelled before the door slammed shut.

part 2...?

[eirist]

Winter Whimsies ❄️

WHIMSICAL NIGHT

Vignette #: 7

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: Late entry because I'm honestly getting confused between work and timezones. I hope I made it. For the ZoNa Holiday 2020 at @zonamievents. December 22 theme: Starry Night / Fireplace.

Summary: “I honestly don't know which I like watching more."

As Nami closed the door of library, she shivered slightly when the cold winter air brushed against her cheeks.

The party was now over. Dinner had been delicious and after that, they all decided to huddle in front of the Christmas tree in the library; right in front of the makeshift electric fireplace Franky had built as his gift for the whole crew. A little something to make the ambiance more.... supeeerrrr Christmas-y.

Honestly if you ask her, it reeks of Robin's influence on the cyborg. Majority of the crew knows that when the archaeologist requests... the shipwright provides.

Those two really has something going on between them. Usopp better prepare himself for it because he will lose his bet with her.

With the artificial flames setting the whole room aglow, Sanji served his specially concocted Christmas beverages as the Straw Hats pirates went on to exchange gifts, laughter and stories along with unbelievable anecdotes during the past two years they've been away from each other and as of recently as well.

As the party dwindled down, Luffy nearly passed out when he accidentally drank from Zoro's mug, creating commotion and nearly toppling the Christmas tree over. Sure, the chef prepared hot and festive drinks for everyone to enjoy but since the swordsman was anything but a fan of sweets; the blond had digressed and made him something special and alcoholic. For the sake of shitty Christmas spirit.

Something potent and alcoholic should be the exact words. Luffy spent the rest of the evening, babbling nonsense and chortling randomly. His one rubber arm kept wrapping around and around a now-harassed Usopp before Zoro hooked an arm on his neck and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was, it stopped the rubber man from badgering the sniper and spent the rest of the party with his head resting on Zoro's lap, mumbling about becoming the 'pirate king' repeatedly and finally passing out.

Everyone took it as a cue to finally call it a night. Chopper was also nodding off and rubbing his sleepy eyes as he was obviously fighting to stay awake because they were still having so much fun. When Zoro set down his tankard and scooped up their snoring captain under one arm and Chopper on the other. Everyone followed suit to start cleaning the mess in the library before turning in.

Nami rubbed her hands up and down her arms trying to warm up a little as the wind bit at her cheeks slightly. They had so much fun earlier. It was nice to finally sit down with everyone to celebrate and not because they are planning to raid a country or steal from a Yonko.

She peered at the library window, checking if there was anything amiss. She had left the lights of the tree on, letting it illuminate the now darkened room. It was beautiful to look at. And somehow, it makes her feel warm and giddy inside.

Satisfied that all was tidied up and that the crew had now retired to their respective rooms, Nami made her way down the galley to go to her quarters. She stopped on the lawn deck to admire the ice lights festooning it; speckled like hundreds of tiny white, winter stars.

She had to admit that their crew put an effort in adorning their beloved ship. But as much as she wanted to revel at its beauty, it needs to be switched off as it calls too much attention from other sailing vessels.

Franky had told her where he had surreptitiously placed the switch before disappearing down the docking station to his weapons' room, mumbling about working on something for the approaching new year.

Which she doesn’t believe, really. After all, this is a special night and she highly doubt he will be tinkering with something instead of spending some quality time with someone special

She located the switch taped behind the mast and flicked it off.

Immediately the white lights irradiating the deck disappeared…

… only to be replaced by something more breathtaking as the winter night sky become visible to her eyes.

She looked up, astounded.

Millions of stars dotted the sky. There were so many of them that it looked like the sky had burst out and scattered shimmering jewels everywhere and not one single space was left empty.

It was dazzling. It was magnificent.

It was...

"I honestly don't know which I like watching more."

Nami turned towards the voice’s direction. Zoro was standing near the stairs leading to the girls’ room, observing her.

And here she thought he was already sleeping.

Realizing that what he just said was meant to butter her up and place him in her good graces, she laughed. "Well, I’m guessing you’d pick the stars just to spite me!" She quipped, winking at him and pointing her finger up at the sky.

His lips quirked up into a smile. That one particular smile that speaks volume of what he really, truly feels for her.

"I would,” he jibed back. “Yet still you put them to shame."

Nami couldn't fight the giddy smile that pulled at her lips, nor the heat that rose to her cheeks, warming them up. She placed both of her hands on her hips to as if to chastise him.

"I take it that that is your Christmas gift to me?"

Zoro chuckled.

She pouted as he approached her. "You are THAT broke?"

"Your fault." He bent down to kiss her nose. "You did spend most of my money on your gift, right?"

Nami beamed. "Weeell... true."

He leaned in further to her. "And you did say you are already wearing it. Why don't we open my present now?"

She burst into light-hearted giggles even as she rolled her eyes at him and drew him towards her by wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I don’t know. It's too cold Zorooo..."

He was laughing all of sudden and a brazen leer appeared on his face.

She furrowed her brows at him.

"You know, Franky built two of those fireplace things we had at the library." He grinned at her. Shit-eating. One that promises no good for her tonight. "Someone must've told him that the nest is too cold to stay in these past few nights."

Nami's eyes regarded him curiously.

"Plus," Zoro cocked his head to the side to look at her. "Robin's gift is fitting. You should check how awesome that blanket feels..."

As realizations dawned into her, Nami perked up and returned Zoro's grin with a wider one.

"Damn it! Those two are good. Really, really good!"

[nine-mp3]

- a one-shot inspired by OnlyOneOf’s Love going back to black hair recently

- vampire!love / jisung

- reader!witch/warlock

- word count: 1755

- warnings: blood mention, narrator only curses once, other than that it is very pg-13 

Lifting up the hatch to the roof of the cabin, you carefully move your way up to the surface. The cool night air of the forest is inviting; promising for days when you couldn't sleep, too many thoughts in mind. You walked across the ceramic tiles, careful not to slip. In one of your hands was a can of Coca-Cola, a favorite drink of the mortals in the world. And it so happened to be the same for yourself though you were a witch/warlock. As for your other hand, you held a medium-sized juice pouch with dark red liquid contained inside; it was made of primarily cranberry juice and other herbs, a known supplement for blood that only witches or warlocks can make. A very popular consumable in the supernatural market. 

You sat down at the other end of the roof, a few feet away from the trap door, and set down the juice pouch, while opening the coke. As you take a sip, the carbonation hits your nose strongly, making you wrinkle your nose for a moment. A black and tawny cat, Chestnut, leapt up from the trap door. She walks over, joining you, brushing against your arms. Though it seemed like the cat was accompanying you, she in reality was waiting for someone else. But you give the cat what she wants anyways; attention, rubbing her head generously.

It wasn't long till said person came, as they had promised to do so the other day. You barely had enough time to blink when someone appeared besides you without any warning. Most people would be shocked, or perhaps fallen off the roof. And that is speaking from personal experience, from when you first befriended Jisung. 

You eventually got used to it; being friends with a vampire simply just came with these surprise appearances. It’s one of the lesser terrifying things in the world when you think about it, considering the life you live as one kind of supernatural being as well.

Chestnut leaps out of your arms without another thought and into his, purring endlessly into his chest. Jisung laughs, happy to greet an animal who wasn't afraid of him. Hands running through fur, he hugs the cat with the same amount of affection. 

"You made it. And on time," you said, a smile reaching your face upon seeing him. 

"Did you think I wouldn't show up?" Jisung asked, his dark crimson eyes moving away from the cat to look at you. 

He idly played with Chestnut's paws as the cat rested on his lap now; it was quite scary to see a cat be in the hands of a vampire literally, wary of Jisung's long dark nails. But over time, you came to know that he was one of the gentler vampires in the world. And cats knew better than all of us; Chestnut wouldn't approach Jisung if she felt he was dangerous. 

"No. It's not an easy travel route to here, I mean," you said, setting down your can of coke to poke the straw into the juice pouch you had reserved for him.

He scooted over closer and was mindful not to jostle the cat in his lap as he did. Jisung smiled giddly, teeth and fangs showing, as if he was a child receiving sweets, and took the juice pouch from your hands to take a sip. You watched as his image changed once he took a generous glup and swallowed; he ran a hand through his black locks of hair, before leaning back against his arms. The light from the night stars made his pale skin glisten, even more than usual. It's hard not to look at him. 

And here's the confession; you thought Jisung is very beautiful. Vampires just came with good looks. He's not the first vampire you've met in your life either. Safe to say most of them are assholes and only have one goal in mind: to survive. As for him, he is both beautiful inside and outside; the supernatural transformation did not take away his ability to be kind or blurr the meaning of it. You assumed it took a great amount of willpower to do such a thing. Comparing the life of a mortal to a vampire, it was drastically different.

"Worried that I can't handle a couple of forest demons?" Jisung asked then, elbowing me playfully. 

"I guess it's something like that... anyways, do you know what day it is?" you responded.

"March 20th? Or is it one of your witchy / warlocky holidays?"

"...Witchy / warlocky holidays? Name one."

"Halloween."

"Huh? That one applies to all supernatural creatures-"

Jisung snickered, seeming to enjoy the confusion on your face. You knew he was joking then and shoved him to the side as hard as you could with your shoulder. Unfortunately, vampires have insane super strength in this world also; your physical shove did nothing to him. It might've hurt just your own shoulder in the end. The vampire, unmoving, laughs even harder.

"God, you're annoying. I'll send you across the field with a fireball if you don't shut up," you said, folding your arms and rolling your eyes in irritation.

"You like me too much to do that," Jisung responded, his smile turning into a knowing one.

In moments like these, when he was making fun of you, it was easier not to look at him out of spite. Jisung teased you relentlessly, but it was part of the friendship. You did the same back, except this moment was particularly different. The meaning of this day. The vampire notices your demeanor, the seriousness, and stops laughing.

“Aw, come on...I know what day it is, y/n. March 20th, the Spring Solstice. The anniversary of the day we first met," he said now. "I remember and...it's not something I would forget."

You didn't immediately look at Jisung again when he said that. It was because no one had ever said anything like that to you, the level of genuineness you felt from his words; it caught you off guard. Warmth had crept up on your face, paired off with the sudden acceleration of your heart. This wasn't something you can hide from a vampire though, it was more out of embarrassment to not look at him now. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Jisung's face become written with surprise.

It was probably also good to note that a witch’s /warlock's blood was particularly toxic to vampires, which was another reason why it wasn't hard to become friends with him in the first place; you didn't have to worry about him thinking of you as a midnight snack. 

There was a good moment of silence as you attempted to muster the courage to find a way to respond to that and of course, explain why in the world you were reacting this way. You were trying to figure out for the longest time about how you truly felt about Jisung; if you were confusing feelings of friendship for...something else. The last thing you wanted to do was to ruin it all. 

This had happened several times and before Jisung could ask any questions, you teleported away from him. And you were about to do that again. He seemed to have anticipated the move and grabbed your hands, a tight grasp, preventing you from casting the spell. This forced you to look at him, though mainly out of your own surprise. There was a concern on his face now instead, and you couldn't miss the dilation of his pupils either; this made you know, whatever you were feeling, Jisung mutually felt the same. You felt stupid for not seeing it sooner; it made sense since you did literally disappear every moment before you could see his reaction every single time. But you were only scared. 

“Sorry,” you blurted out, breaking the heavy silence. “I’ve just been confused and I don’t know what this all means and you’re like my best friend and I don’t want to lose you and you know how complicated it would be for beings like us and-”

Jisung removed one of his hands to cover your mouth, stopping you from talking. 

“Okay. Now when I remove my hand you’re going to breathe. Sound good?”

You nodded, complying with his words. When he takes his hand from over your mouth, you inhale and exhale as directed. Looking back over to Jisung, he has an assuring smile on his face. He held both your hands in his again, his thumbs gently stroking in comfort. You noted that Chestnut the cat had gone from his lap; she must’ve thought you two needed to work something out when sensing tension from you and fled. It was one less thing to worry about. 

“So, all of that...was the reason why you kept running away?” he asked. 

“Yes. It was,” you admitted, the feeling of embarrassment returning. 

Jisung laughed lightly and you saw it now, his own shyness visible. 

“It’s hard to find the words...but I honestly wondered if you’d ever really think of me that way. I know that I have this irresistible beauty-”

You rolled your eyes for the second time today at that statement, almost wanting to retract your hands, yet he again prevented you from leaving until he finished his sentence. 

“- let me finish! But we both know it’s the vampire charm, blah, blah. Anyways, what I’m really trying to say is that I do have the same feelings- I mean at least what I sense your heart is telling me and all your stinky blood rushing around like that in your veins. Since day one, if you really want this to get anymore cliche...a vampire falling for a witch/warlock, vice versa...happens once in a blue moon, doesn’t it?”

Of course, Jisung still manages to joke while making a confession out of awkwardness. Yet you couldn’t be any more happier though. You pulled your hands away from his to wrap your arms around his shoulders for a tight hug, not minding how cold he was. There was no hesitation from Jisung either, his own arms immediately moving to loop around your frame, enjoying the warmth that emitted from your body, tucking his head against yours. The two of you spent a while like that, enjoying each other’s presence, before beginning to talk again about memories, addressing the moments where you both were dodgy; overall, catching up with each other’s feelings as the night continued on.

[edenfalling]

[Fic] “Between the Saltwater and the Sea-Strand” - Naruto

Summary: Yukiko and Kakashi run an undercover mission in the coastal port of Asase during monsoon season. Rain can make anyone philosophical. Part of the Apartment Manager AU, set after The Guardian in Spite of Herself and before An Unorthodox Pedagogical Approach. (3,515 words) Note: Written for warriordrgnmage, in response to the prompt: Naruto: Hatake Kakashi/Ayakawa Yukiko set in the Way of the Apartment Manager Series Timeline. For the Bingo card: Monsoon. It is also a fill for the genprompt_bingo square monsoon. For obvious reasons, Yukiko and Kakashi are using fake names while undercover. Yukiko is Aoi, and Kakashi is Hyoujin. Also, you may notice that this is gen! See, while I am perfectly cool with people shipping Yukiko with Kakashi, that is 100% never going to become Apartment Manager canon, for many, many reasons. If anyone wants a shippy AU, you are welcome to write it yourself, because I flat-out CANNOT. Seriously, even if I tried, you wouldn't want the results. They would be awful. Trust me on that. --------------------------------------------- Between the Saltwater and the Sea-Strand --------------------------------------------- Kuwa Natsume looked up as Yukiko slung herself in through the office window in a spray of rain, raised one eyebrow, and then looked back down to her account books. "Misplaced your shadow?" "Does anyone have a shadow in this weather?" Yukiko said wryly as she shut the window, reducing the sound of rain from deafening to merely incessant and inescapable. "I thought I was used to rain, but coastal monsoons are something new, yeah?" "We get that a lot from inlanders," Kuwa-san said as she drew a sharp line under a column of numbers and wrote a sum. "You get used to it, and it's easier for shinobi -- you have all that fancy ninpou and whatnot. But in all honesty, Aoi-san, where is your partner? I can't finalize your supply contract without both of your signatures." Yukiko made a face as she combed water out of her black-dyed hair. "Is it that important to be fussy when this is all ninety percent illegal anyway?"

"The more illegal, the more important to nail down all the details," Kuwa-san said. "What court would adjudicate the case if you sign alone and Hyoujin-san decides next week that he won't pay for his share?" Yukiko personally agreed with Kuwa-san's caution, but her cover persona would probably make one further push. So, "Oh, don't worry about him. Hyoujin trusts me completely--" Kuwa-san raised her eyebrow again. "--nearly completely when it comes to contracts. What's the point of having a partner if you can't split your responsibilities?" "I would say partners split focus, not responsibility. If you don't maintain some degree of joint liability, what's to stop one of you from turning on the other?" "Ethics?" Yukiko said with a winning smile, and allowed herself to laugh at Kuwa-san's carefully calculated answering smirk. "Fair enough. Let me look over the terms and I'll drag him over here to pretend he knows how to use a brush sometime before-- when do you close today?" "Six." "Before six. Actually, let's say before five, yeah? He's not that hard to track or sweet-talk if you know what you're doing." Yukiko held out her now-dry hand for the supply contract and wiggled her fingers until Kuwa-san passed it across her desk. She retreated to the broad windowsill and began flicking through the pages. It wasn't complicated, just a dead drop of miscellaneous dry goods in neutral territory that would hopefully establish her and Kakashi as reliable clients and Kuwa-san as a reliable supplier -- a standard way for missing-nin and gray market merchants to feel each other out. If the goods wound up as a cache for a long-term Leaf-nin mission, well, nothing in the contract specified that Yukiko and Kakashi had to be the ones to make the pickup. And their cash was perfectly legitimate Fire Country tender, so as far as Kuwa-san was concerned, there was nothing to worry about. (Yukiko was fairly certain there was nothing to worry about on Konoha's end of the bargain either. Kuwa-san had a rock-solid reputation for following through on her contracts. Nobody survived twenty years in the gray market without either keeping their word almost religiously or spending a fortune on bodyguards, and Kuwa-san barely bothered to pay for warehouse security.) "Where do you source kunai?" she asked as the rain's intensity kicked up a notch, beating against the windowpane in a nearly solid sheet of water. "Wind Country," Kuwa-san said without looking up from her accounts. "Earth Country's metallurgy is better, but the border tariffs aren't usually worth the slight increase in quality. I could change that if you're willing to pay the difference." Yukiko feigned consideration. "I don't care, but Hyoujin can get picky about steel composition. What would the increase be for this number of kunai and senbon?" Kuwa-san named a figure. Yukiko made an exaggerated expression of disgust. "No thanks! He can whine and make do. I'm not paying that much more for what, a half percent less chance of flaws? It's not like anyone expects kunai to last anyway. Use 'em and lose 'em and buy some more, that's what I say. Or steal whatever's left from your targets! That's economy, yeah?" "Officially, I can't encourage any behavior that would reduce my chance to sell you more equipment, Aoi-san. Unofficially? Yes, that's very economical. If only all my clients were equally practical." "Eh, there's all kinds of ways to be practical. What we're good at is mostly spying and killing -- it's more efficient to hire a ninja than do that stuff in-house, yeah? Just like you're good at moving stuff around to where we need it, so it's more efficient to hire you instead of us trying to figure all that stuff out from scratch. It's win-win, is how I see it." Yukiko tapped the papers to shuffle them into a neat pile, then handed them back to Kuwa-san. "That looks fine on my ends. Me and Hyoujin will be back sometime this afternoon to sign and pay the next installment." "It's a pleasure doing business with you, Aoi-san," Kuwa-san said. Yukiko grinned and dove backward out the window, into the pounding rain. --------------- Kakashi was lurking in one of Asase's numerous quayside bars, most of which were run out of the back doors of warehouses and also did a brisk side business in assorted seafood dishes. Rain pelted down on the roof tiles in a clattering racket that Yukiko found personally soothing but professionally irritating -- it was a lot harder to eavesdrop through the constant noise, not to mention the complications it added to genjutsu. She and Kakashi had spent their first night in Asase mutually grousing about the unpredictability of electric ninjutsu in waterlogged conditions and the difficulty of filtering ambient sounds out of illusions. Today Kakashi was sipping a bowl of lobster broth through a long, curved straw that vanished into the deep blue folds of the scarf he'd used to shroud his face. To the casual eye he was staring out an open window toward the rainswept harbor, his oversized gray hood restricting his range of sight and hearing, but Yukiko followed the combined angle of his feet and chopsticks to their targets: a trio of young missing-nin drinking in the far corner, defaced forehead protectors proclaiming their renunciation of Kiri. They were small-time, only a few months out on their own each with barely a name and one line of description in the latest bingo book editions, but anyone willing to go against the Bloody Mist was worth a second look. Whether this particular investigation would conclude in a job offer or an assassination was still up in the air. "Heya, Hyoujin. Thinking of roping in some new blood for larger contracts?" Yukiko asked as she dropped into a seat across from him (back to their targets) and set her ramen down on the unsanded wood of the table. Kakashi shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Three's better than two for flexibility, but more than four on a mission gets awkward without ranks and a chain of command. Nobody who leaves a village wants to go back to those kind of restrictions." Yukiko tilted her hand. "Eh, there's assholes on power trips and there's division of labor -- not necessarily the same thing. I let you take the lead in a fight and you let me take the lead on retrievals. That's just practical, yeah? But we wouldn't throw each other away. Shinobi are tools, sure, but if you don't look out for your teammates, how can you trust they'll look out for you?" Kakashi shrugged again and continued sipping his broth. Targets hear? Yukiko signed under the guise of snapping apart her chopsticks. Yes, Kakashi signed back as he lifted his bowl and drank the last of his broth under the shadow of his hood and scarf. No bite. Yukiko slurped a mouthful of noodles and nicely salted broth. "Grouch. Well, whatever we do for future contracts, today we have to sign off on the supply contract with Kuwa-san. We'll need the goods for that thing in Tea Country and she wants both of our names in writing." "Sign for me," Kakashi said "Tried that. She won't bite." "So fake it. Illusions are your thing, Aoi; pretend I'm there and forge my seal." Yukiko slurped another mouthful of noodles in her best imitation of Naruto's sloppy manners. "Oh, sure. Lying is the best way to establish trust for future contracts, yeah?" "She's a civilian, how would she know?" "Not the point. C'mon, Hyoujin. You won't melt in the rain. Let's go make nice with Kuwa-san and I'll make it real worth your while." She ran the edge of her sandal up the side of Kakashi's shin and gave him her best imitation of her cousin Yura's flirtatious smile. Kakashi twitched. Yukiko slapped the table and let her smile shade into a more genuine grin. "Ha, I win." "Fine. Finish your soup and let's go drown ourselves. Again." "Eh, getting soaked's not that bad. Especially when you've got a partner around to help you peel out of all your soggy clothes and warm up when you get home, yeah?" Kakashi twitched again, then rallied and let a tiny arc of electricity jump between two raised fingers. "And then get wet again?" Yukiko held onto her cover persona by the skin of her teeth. "Now you're talking my language. All right, I'm done. Let's go give a little now so we get more back later." --------------- Signing the contract with Kuwa-san took all of twenty minutes -- half of which was entirely for show, as Kakashi lived up to his cover persona and whined about the kunai quality until Yukiko overruled him -- after which they had the afternoon and evening entirely to themselves and a conveniently established reason to retreat to their rented room and lock themselves inside Yukiko's best privacy genjutsu. "We can't stay longer than another day now that the contract's signed," Kakashi said as he flashed his hands through the seals for a quick and subtle bit of ninjutsu that left their clothes and skin completely dry without spilling any excess heat. "Do you think the targets will be receptive if we approach them openly?" Yukiko shook her head, grimaced at the awkward motion of her still-tangled hair, and began working the tie out of her ponytail. "No chance. I don't know if they'd even be open to a joint mission with Aoi and Hyoujin at this point. Sumire wants security and Kenichi likes profit, but they're still raw enough to see tigers in every other shadow, and Eriko's almost too paranoid to make deals with someone as solid and non-threatening as Kuwa-san. On the bright side, they're wildly unlikely to join up with anyone else." Kakashi slumped back onto the futon with an annoyed set to his eyebrow. "And since they haven't moved against Fire Country assets, there's nothing to justify an assassination without a contract. I hate leaving loose ends." Yukiko dropped down to sit cross-legged beside him, fingers slowly working through her tangles. "Think of it as a guaranteed vacation in a few months. Our agents will send word the next time our trio pass through Asase, Aoi and Hyoujin turn up to sign a new contract with Kuwa-san, and we sound them out for a joint mission. They ought to be the right balance of calmer and hungrier by then, and we'll get a better reading after a week or so of close contact." "Ugh." "Yeah, yeah, talking to people is terrible and scary." Kakashi rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his arms, the soft, voluminous fabric of his hood blocking all apparent lines of sight. "Only the living." Yukiko froze, then sighed and flopped onto her back with her arms above her head. "Yeah. The dead talk back just as much, but it's still so much easier." "Sometimes I wonder how many people in Konoha would qualify for a 'Lone Survivor of My Genin Team, Including My Teacher' club," Kakashi said into the futon. "Then I stop wondering because the math is too depressing. But we could start a private chapter just for us." "Sometimes I hate that you trust me enough to say things like that," Yukiko said to the ceiling. "Then I tell myself not to be an idiot, because it means I get to say equally horrible things to you. Like that I'm pretty sure if we recruit our targets, at least one of them will be dead within two years, and I'm not sure that balances the odds that all three of them will die within one year if they keep working as missing-nin. After all, there's always a chance they might retire and start a farm." "Says the woman who got so bored with civilian life she jumped into a chuunin exam the minute Sandaime offered her a chance." "Says the Anbu assassin." Kakashi snorted. "We're all so fucked up." "Yeah." "Might as well be fucked up with other people who understand." "Yeah." They lay in silence for some time, listening to the steady thrum of rain on the roof tiles above. The air was warm and sticky, and the breeze eeling through the open window smelled faintly green beneath the ever-present fish-salt-rot odor of the sea. "Let's accidentally-on-purpose bump into the targets tomorrow morning, buy them breakfast, and float the idea of a joint mission later in the year," Yukiko said eventually. "Might as well plant seeds when the ground is soft." "You pay." "It's all mission funds in the end." "To clarify: you handle all the human interactions. I'll stand behind you and look vaguely menacing so they'll think at least one of us is competent." "To clarify: you'll look vaguely constipated, while I impress them with my social competency. Networking is an important skill for missing-nin." "I object to that assessment." "Which one of us has experience making business deals directly with civilians instead of through the mission office?" Kakashi flicked a gust of wind at her, re-tangling her hair. Yukiko pulled out Aoi's grin as she kicked Kakashi gently in the ankle. "Ninjutsu isn't a valid argument, which means I win. Your forfeit is fixing my hair." "Having teammates and friends is a terrible choice and I should never have made it a second time," Kakashi grumbled, but he sat up and tapped Yukiko's shoulder. "Turn around and hand me your comb." --------------- They hadn't been able to slap any chakra tags on the targets -- Eriko's paranoia was too thorough for even the subtlest of genjutsu threads to make it past her guard longer than a couple hours -- but Yukiko had gotten a decent sense of their chakra signatures over a series of not-quite-encounters during the past week. It helped to have rooms in the same lodging house, of course. Kakashi took first watch, leaving Yukiko to spend the back half of the night with a manual on steam heating systems and the interminable patter of rain. Eventually the sky began to lighten from matte black to flat gray and her spider-light sweep across the building and surrounding streets caught movement from their targets. "Time to go," she said as she stood. Kakashi remained unmoving until she nudged him with her foot, secure that he was actually awake and wouldn't strike her in reflexive defense. "I remember pretending to be a morning person when I was too young to know better," Kakashi grumbled into the futon. "It was a terrible idea then and it's a terrible idea now. Nobody should be awake before the sun is halfway up the sky." "Unfortunately the targets set the schedule," Yukiko said as she tucked her book away into a holding scroll. "Come on, put on your face and let's get to work." Kakashi flicked a minor wind jutsu in her direction as he rolled to his feet, but Yukiko had braided her hair so this time it stayed secure and untangled. "I wonder if I should switch to bulky scarves as an off-duty option. It's easier to eat and drink through the gaps between layers than to yank a mask up and down very fast or while people are looking away, and people have been much less interested in Hyoujin's face than they tend to be in mine." "That's because Hyoujin doesn't have a reputation. There's no glory in pulling down some random missing-nin's scarf." Yukiko grinned at Kakashi's affronted eyebrow and slipped out the window ahead of another wind jutsu. It wasn't hard to find their targets today: apparently Sumire's morning grumpiness had won over Eriko's paranoia and the trio of former Mist-nin were huddled near a breakfast yatai, half-sheltered from the incessant rain, and haggling over prices with the male half of the married couple behind the counter. Yukiko couldn't have asked for a better opening if she'd tried. She eeled her way up to the counter and grinned at the woman scraping down the stove from whatever she'd last been grilling. "Two miso and two fish on rice -- salmon for me, mackerel for my partner," she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at Kakashi, who was standing, smugly dry, under a wind jutsu shaped into an invisible umbrella. "Oh, and how much extra for nori with the salmon?" The woman named a price. Yukiko rolled her eyes. "I hate bargaining on an empty stomach, so I'll just pay nine tenths of that and we'll all pretend you're not robbing me blind, yeah?" She glanced sideways to where the three young missing-nin were still arguing with the other cook. "I hate listening to arguments on an empty stomach, too, so how about I cover these loudmouths, too? Or at least the difference between what they're willing to pay and what you're asking." "Deal," the man said, interrupting the mockery of persuasion Kenichi was currently attempting. "Pay up and thank the nice lady for making sure I don't turn you away unfed." Eriko slapped her hand over Sumire's wallet. "No. It's poisoned." Yukiko rolled her eyes again. "There's a difference between reasonable caution and paranoia, yeah? I want a peaceful breakfast and our last mission went well, so I'm willing to pay a little extra to smooth things over. It's not like it's that much money. And hey, if it'll make you feel better, consider it a-- a-- Hyoujin, what's the word I want?" "Why would I know? You handle contracts," Kakashi said as he slipped a bite of mackerel through the folds of his scarf. "Ugh, why are we still partners?" "Because I'm very good with knives." "Point!" Yukiko slapped the yatai counter and turned back to the trio of missing-nin. "Anyway, breakfast. You're right that nothing comes free, so let's say that I'm paying for you to consider a joint mission sometime in the future, if me and Hyoujin have a line on a job that needs more than three people and we're kicking around the same market, yeah?" Sumire blinked. Kenichi looked like she'd slapped his face with a whole salmon. Eriko scowled and said, "That's not how contracts work." "Yes it is. It's called a-- a-- it's an option, that's the word! You can ask any of the suppliers in town, they'll tell you. I'm paying for the chance to run a job past you, because anyone who makes it out of Hidden Mist is worth a trial run, yeah? You don't have to accept. You just have to listen. And now I'm done with this conversation because I don't like having arguments on an empty stomach any more than I like listening to them. Don't die, and me and Hyoujin will see you around." She grabbed her rice bowl, her cup of miso, and her disposable bamboo chopsticks and kicked Kakashi's ankle to make him turn around and stop staring creepily at the trio of missing-nin through the folds of his scarf. Bite? she asked in handsign masked by a low-level illusion -- the chakra for which ought to be covered by Kakashi's own completely explicable umbrella jutsu. Maybe, Kakashi signed back, then added aloud, "What do you want to do for our next vacation, if this job goes as well as the last one?" Yukiko shrugged elaborately as she swallowed a mouthful of fish and rice. "Eh, there's worse places than the ocean. And by then, the rain should be over for the year. I like water a lot better when it stays flat on the ground than when it's trying to crawl up my nose and into my ears, yeah?" "That's because you have no imagination," Kakashi drawled. Yukiko considered countering with her own innuendo, but no; they were leaving Asase. They could leave Aoi and Hyoujin behind with the rain and introspection and return to more familiar ground. So she poked Kakashi with her chopsticks instead, and laughed when he neatly dodged the strike. As they walked past Kuwa-san's warehouse, bickering companionably, a watery ray of sun pierced briefly through the clouds over the storm-wracked sea and laid a path west to the green reaches of home. --------------------------------------------- End of Story --------------------------------------------- Well, that took significantly longer than it needed to, but I won in the end. \o/ Also, Kuwa Natsume (from Whose Allegiance Is Ruled by Expedience) is now officially part of Apartment Manager continuity. You're welcome. :D