#if he hadn't been an idiot they would've held hands

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Look, we thought pairing my LDB up with freaking Yrsarald Thrice-Pierced instead of Ulfric would be funny.

It wasn't. It was just sad.

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As I told my dear sweet @elder-dragon-reposes, it's one thing for one of Ulfric's followers clear across Skyrim to get heart eyes for Ulfric's girlfriendsword arm, but it's another matter entirely if it's one of his generals. In his own city.

Yrsarald remembers the Dragonborn from when she came to call Ulfric to the Greybeards' council. He remembers that she was soft-spoken and adamant about the World-Eater. She's hopeful and compassionate, and that stands out to him, even if she is an elf.

Ulfric doesn't seem to mind her ancestry, so Yrsarald elects to ignore it untilunless it becomes a problem.

News comes that Alduin has been banished, and the Dragonborn is about Skyrim, helping people. It's . . . nice that the foreign half-elf seems to care so much for the well-being of Skyrim and her people. Yrsarald keeps tabs on her through the informants and spy networks. It's a matter of security if the Dragonborn turns traitor to Skyrim and helps the blasted Thalmor. Galmar isn't keeping up with it, so for Ulfric and the Stormcloaks' sake, Yrsarald is.

But all he hears are good things. She wins admiration everywhere she goes, but she doesn't belong anywhere. Balgruuf the Greater is trying to tie the Dragonborn to Whiterun, but she's as flighty as Kyne's winds. Somewhere in there, Yrsarald learns her name is Leara Ormand and she's from HIgh Rock. She grew up on magic and chivalry. She probably sees life as a fairy tale. He may disdain her for it.

But then she comes to Windhelm. They've had troubles of their own, being stretched between the care of the city and fighting a war. And she solves problems. He hears she's investigating the serial killer in town . . .

. . .then finds the Butcher, and she's hurt? Ulfric is concerned, but Yrsarald finds himself livid. He cannot see his Jarl's worry for his own shame that their hero came to help them, and all she got in return was a bleeding wound and permafrost on her skin.

Imagine being so in love with an otherwise mythic figure, a celebrity, that you can't see that your friend, your brother, is also in love with her. How can you see it when you aren't ready to admit your own feelings?

Leara is renting a room at Candlehearth when Yrsarald decides he needs to pay his respects to her. She is surprised when he meets her near dinner. He has never seen a woman so precisely featured before. She's not in armor (he's only seen her in silver plate); her hair is down (curling in blood rose vines) and she's bundled in a cornflower blue dress (it's loose to accommodate her bandages). He wants to sit down and talk to her, but he doesn't. He thanks her, though, and she smiles. He stops by the counter later to make sure Elda sends her a dessert .

"But don't bother her with who it's from." "Well if that's how you choose to show your appreciation."

Yrsarald buys Leara sweets after that. She doesn't know it's him. She knows it's someone who appreciates her service and feels bad about her getting hurt, but Elda won't crack. Drat the woman.

Leara wonders if Ulfric is gifting her the sweets. She wants to hope it's Ulfric. She wants their past to be past and for her to appreciate everything she continues to do not for him, but to his benefit; she wasn't drawn in by his smile or anything. Who else would it be if not him? Ralof? He's not in town. General Stone-Fist didn't seem too bothered about her.

Leara's still healing. She's not bedridden or anything, but she's not fit to go beyond the city gates where there are bandits and dragons and necromancers (oh my!), so she decides that visiting the court wizard might be a fruitful investment of her time. She shuffles off to the Palace of the Kings. She runs into Jorleif right off and, on telling him she'd like to visit the court wizard, he's ready to take her to Wuunferth because she's been to see him before, and after all, she is the Dragonborn.

And this is that delightful moment when fate can swing either way because if Ulfric shows up and offers to walk Leara, that's all she wrote. Yrsarald's lost his chance because now that soft smile from Candlehearth is directed at the Jarl, not him, and Yrsarald will never get it back.

But maybe, just maybe, if Yrsarald gets to Leara before Ulfric does, if he captures her attention in conversation, maybe she'll look at him.

For a general commanding troops, it's terribly hard to be brave before a woman.

He would ask her how she's healing from the attack, and Leara would sigh, tired with herself but patient in her speech, because she's healing but she feels like she's letting the people down. And the tips of her ears might turn pink (Yrsarald didn't know elf ears did that) because Leara didn't mean to be that candid and trouble him – but Yrsarald is tripping over himself to tell her that she's done more for Skyrim than anyone (why is his neck red?) and it's reasonable for her to convalesce after an injury.

"Rest and eat apple tarts." ". . . how did you know I was eating apple tarts?"

Yrsarald coughs (he did not mean to tell her that). Leara is staring at him. They're at Wuunferth's quarters. She blinks at him before thanking him for guiding her through the palace. Then she's gone, and Yrsarald is kicking himself for being an idiot.

He's smitten.

Soon (too soon) Leara has healed from her injury and she's at the palace again, but this time she's offering to help Ulfric negotiate a permanent peace between both sides. Ulfric's seen Leara at the table, he knows what she can do. Galmar is more skeptical, but when Ulfric looks to Yrsarald for his opinion (and Leara's too-blue winter deep eyes follow) he says to let her have at it.

Leara needs to be brought up on the Stormcloaks holdings and Ulfric says he'll help her, but then Galmar needs him for something else and Yrsarald (does NOTdoes) jumps at the chance to help the Dragonborn. She's attentive and quiet, and asks the right questions about supplies and movements. And Yrsarald realizes as he's talking to her that Leara has been in a war before.

"Were you in the Great War?"

The stiffening of her shoulders is almost imperceptible. He'd have missed it if he weren't watching her so intently.

"Yes."

Her reply is measured. She does not lie.

"Legion?"

Because everyone was in the Legion then. Back when it fought for Skyrim. He wouldn't fault her if she was . . . why is her face sour? Her mouth is pinched.

"It doesn't matter–" "It does."

Why does it matter? He wonders, why is he pressing?

Her eyes are wide. So wide and too-blue.

Leara looks ill.

And then he knows.

He knew from the beginning she couldn't be trusted. She was an elf. All elves scurried back to the Thalmor in the end. She was here for that blasted Thalmor "ambassador" – she would betray Ulfric and the sons of Skyrim to their deaths!

There's a breathless scream.

Yrsarald doesn't realize until then that he has her on the ground. She's so small and too precisely featured. Her eyes are too blue. She's a traitor, a liar, a fraud–

The Dragonborn does not care for Skyrim.

"Yrsarald, please–"

Yrsarald growls.

Why is she crying? Doesn't she realize what she's doing to Skyrim? – Done to him? All this time and Yrsarald realizes he let Leara lure him into a fairy tale, only for her to shatter it with frigid reality when he thinks, when he thinks . . .

He might love her.

But elves can't love.

"You will rue the day you stepped foot in Skyrim, elf!"

She's sobbing. If she were really a true Dragonborn, she'd try and Shout him off, but Yrsarald wonders if she lied about that, too. High Elf illusions.

"Yrsa–" "What's going–?!"

Then Yrsarald is yanked back forcibly. Galmar is there. And Ralof. And Ulfric.

Ulfric is on the floor with her. Kneeling beside her as she gasps and tears turn her white gold face into wet porcelain. Kneeling beside her as if the elf wasn't going to sell Ulfric and everything they'd worked for to the Thalmor!

Yrsarald strains against Galmar and Ralof. He grits his teeth.

"She's Thalmor!"

Galmar stills. Ralof pales. Ulfric's head is bowed. She isn't making any noise but she struggles to breathe and it's tearing Yrsarald apart and enraging him all at once.

"I know."

And with those words, Yrsarald questions everything he ever knew about Ulfric Stormcloak. Ulfric knew she was a Thalmor spy? Was he coming to stop her – but . . .

Then Ulfric is lifting Leara from the ground, helping her to her feet, and it's too gentle for a King about to arrest an enemy.

Her hands are grasping Ulfric's arm, her eyes wide. Ulfric's face is drawn.

"We will discuss this later."

And he walks out with her. And the elf is free. And Yrsarald doesn't understand.

And then Galmar speaks:

"What in Oblivion did you do?!"

Yrsarald . . . doesn't know anymore.

What he learns later is more than he could stomach. Leara was a member of the Thalmor and she was a member of the Blades before that, and during the war, she smuggled information from the Dominion to the Blades intelligence networks and then defected while smuggling Ulfric Stormcloak from captivity.

He's nauseous when Ralof tells him this. Respectful Ralof – save this time there's steel in his eyes and disdain in his voice.

Yrsarald realizes he deserves that.

Later, when she finds him at Candlehearth, drinking his weight in ale, he realizes he does not deserve the understanding and forgiveness and the self-loathing in her face.

"I know why you did what you did. I can't fault you for it, not when I could've sold your Jarl and cause out to the Dominion. But I–"

Leara's eyes trail off.

"I'm sorry."

He chokes out the words. Her eyes slip back. She was far away.

"I think it's for the best if we're not alone together anymore."

Then she's gone.

Yrsarald buys another round.

The next day, Galmar says Ulfric wants him in the Pale. Far away from the Dragonborn goes unspoken between them.

Yrsarald goes. Ulfric's face is hard when he bids Yrsarald goodbye. The Jarl is not as easily forgiving as the Dragonborn.

Yrsarald is in the Pale when, a month later, news comes that the Dragonborn is handling an armistice in Whiterun. Skyrim divided. What was she thinking? She's thinking for Skyrim, Yrsarald realizes. That's all she's thought about this entire time.

It's a year before he returns to the Eastern capital of Windhelm, and only then, it's because the High King is getting married.

Yrsarald sees her. He doesn't stay long after that.

After all, Ulfric would protect her. Had protected her. Even from Yrsarald.

He could live with that.

[captainsophiestark]

The Shiz University Book Fair

Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Fandom: Wicked

Summary: Fiyero made an enemy in his destruction of the library, but it might be just the spark he needs to find something in life that matters.

Word Count: 2,952

Category: Angst, Fluff

A/N: The actor who played Fiyero the first time I saw the musical will forever and always hold the place of favorite in my heart, but damn, Jonathan Bailey is a VERY close second.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"That self-important, irreverent, stupid, idiot."

I grumbled to myself, using it to vent a little bit of my temper as I worked through my corner of the library. The books I'd been meticulously organizing, gathering, and cataloguing had been scattered to the winds, and even worse, some of them had sustained damage. I couldn't be completely sure yet, but it also seemed like a few were missing. I was going to kill that stupid fucking prince.

"Well, I see someone completely ignored my critical lesson yesterday."

Speak of the devil and he will appear. I huffed, then set down the stack of books in my hand before whirling around with a fierce scowl. None other than Fiyero Tigelaar stood before me, much closer than was wise if he knew how badly I wanted to hit him, staring at me with his arms crossed and an insufferable smile on his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded, absolutely seething. Fiyero just shrugged, apparently completely unaffected.

"I noticed you didn't come to the Oz Dust last night. I figured that meant I had more work to do in corrupting my fellow classmates." He gave a significant look to the stacks of books behind me. "Apparently, I was right."

"If you so much as move a finger to touch my books again, I swear, I'll knock that stupid smile right off your face. For good."

Fiyero's eyebrows raised, but his grin only widened. He held up his hands as if to placate me, but he also took a step forward. I narrowed my eyes.

"Listen, I'm just trying to say... you seem a little stressed," he said. I scoffed, but it didn't deter him. "And in my professional opinion, you need to let go of some of this stress before it eats you alive. Living in the library, working day and night, not letting go and having fun? I've seen it claim more than one attractive classmate whom I could've saved. I'm not letting it happen this time."

I clenched and unclenched my fists, barely managing to restrain myself from punching him in the nose. Clearly, his flirty charm had worked almost universally for him before, to the point that he wasn't getting a single one of the glaringly obvious signs that I did not like him and did not want to talk to him. I huffed a long sigh through my nose.

"Fine. You want me to let off some stress? Here goes!" Fiyero grinned like he'd just won the lottery, but I steamrolled over him, relishing the moment that satisfaction dropped from his face. "I've been working on putting together pallets of books and organizing everything for months for the largest reading and book fair in Oz! All for kids, who travel from far and wide to come to the Shiz University Book Fair. For some of them, this is the only access they get to important stories, reading events, and information that they otherwise can't even dream about. I've been helping to put it on since I started here at Shiz, and for the first time, I've finally been put in charge of the whole thing. My dream job, my dream event, that will do so much good. And you fucking ruined it! 

"It's going to take me SO LONG to put everything back, reorganize what you threw around the room for your stupid dance break, replace the damaged and missing books, all before the kids come in less than a week! And frankly, if you hadn't destroyed all of my hard work, I probably would've gone dancing with my friends last night, to celebrate the end of our preparations. But instead, I'm here, working all day and night to get things back in order for one of the events that I not only enjoy most, but that's most important to me and the people who attend. Some of us know how to balance important things that we care about with dicking around, and we don't need lessons from a sanctimonious asshat who thinks he has life figured out even though it's painfully obvious that he doesn't."

Fiyero frowned at me, actually looking like he was using his brain for the first time since I'd met him. Whether he was burning up his processing power trying to think of a comeback or just fuming about someone having the nerve to shout at him, I didn't wait to find out.

"You're lucky I didn't kill you the minute you set foot in my space here," I continued, the anger leveling to a dangerous simmer rather than the explosion I'd been feeling a few moments earlier. "Now get the hell out."

With that, I whipped around, putting my back to Fiyero and returning to my stacks of books. It was the clearest method I could think of for dismissing him, and hopefully, he at least got this message.

I finished running through an inventory of the next stack of books without interruption from Fiyero. After another moment, I couldn't stand the not knowing anymore, so I whirled back around with a scowl already loaded to tell him to get lost again, this time in stronger words. But, to my surprise, he was nowhere to be seen.

I hummed to myself, scouting the library one last time. He was really gone. Good. I'd expected more of a fight, but I definitely didn't have time for one. Hopefully, that would be the last I saw of that obnoxious party boy.

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

"Babies and toddlers?"

"Check."

"Learning to read?"

"Check."

"Middle grade?"

"Check."

"Everything else? Nonfiction, second language, advanced readers-"

"Everything checked off and accounted for. Now triple checked."

I let out a long sigh as I stared around the circle of my closest, most trusted volunteers. They each had clipboards in hand, running through last inventory and organization checks with me before the Shiz University Book Fair officially began. Despite how intense I'd been all morning, they all still had smiles on their faces as they indulged my over-preparedness. This event meant just as much to them as to me, after all, and we were all recovering from last week's unplanned chaos.

"Alright. Then great job, everybody. Grab some coffee or whatever else you want, and then get in position. Doors open in ten."

Everyone nodded, sharing smiles before breaking from our circle and heading off to do whatever they wanted with their last few minutes of quiet. Some of them clapped me on the shoulder on their way past, and I gave them each a smile and a nod.

After the scene Fiyero had caused in the library, not only had everything required reorganization, but a good number of the books had also required replacing. I'd managed to track down most of them, but with only a week's notice, I hadn't quite gotten all of them. Still, on such a limited time frame, I was proud of what I'd managed to accomplish. Everything was as close to perfect as it could be, in position and ready for the arrival of the kids to go off without a hitch.

Of course, no sooner had the thought crossed my mind than a new challenge popped up out of the ether to punch me in the nose. With just under ten minutes until book fair start, Fiyero had the nerve to come riding in on a bicycle, a cart behind him and a smile on his face.

I rushed across the field space where we'd set up the book stands, trying to head him off as early as possible. I caught some of our volunteers sharing glances and looking at Fiyero with interest, but this was a problem I was perfectly happy to handle myself.

"You! Get the hell out of here, right now!" I shouted, pointing to Fiyero as he stopped his bike and hopped off of it. I raced right up to him, shoving at his shoulders and trying to shoo him back onboard the bike, but he just held up his hands in surrender while still standing his ground.

"Relax! I come bearing books!"

I froze. Fiyero's shoulders relaxed when I stopped trying to shove him out of my space, but his relief was a little early as far as I was concerned. I narrowed my eyes at him, incredibly suspicious and ready to resume my attack at a moment's notice.

"What do you mean you come bearing books? What are you talking about?"

Fiyero smiled, keeping his hands up in the air as he walked to the back of the wagon he'd pulled here on his bicycle. I watched him like a hawk, but when he flipped the tarp back to reveal a few different crates of books, I couldn't stop my mouth from dropping open in shock.

"What...?"

"I heard what you said in the library," Fiyero said with a shrug. "I'm... sorry... that I ruined some of the books you'd prepared for the children. I didn't mean to. Or, I suppose I did, but... I didn't realize how important they were at the time. I asked around, and a few of your volunteers said you hadn't been able to replace some of the books, so... I decided to do it myself."

My eyebrows shot up as Fiyero lifted the first crate out of the cart. He walked over to me, stopping just in front of me and holding it out so I could see inside. Lo and behold, it contained more than one volume of the books I hadn't quite been able to replace on such short notice.

I looked up at Fiyero with wide eyes, all the fire and impulse for violence drained away. He just smiled back at me, and this time, it didn't seem to have the same arrogant tinge as before.

"...How...?"

He just shrugged again.

"I'm a prince. I have my ways."

"You... you seriously went to all the trouble to track these down? Just for the book fair?"

The corner of his mouth tugged up into a smile. "I've been trying to find something useful to do with my title for a long time. It wasn't a problem."

I just breathed another surprised sigh. I didn't know how to react to the man in front of me. I'd written him off as a shallow asshole, quite validly in my opinion, but the Fiyero standing before me now seemed like a completely different man.

"So... is there somewhere in particular you'd like me to put these books?"

"Oh! Yes, uh... yeah. Follow me."

I led the way to the table I'd worked hard to cover up a slight empty spot on, and Fiyero dutifully followed me. I waved to a few of the other volunteers to unload the rest of his cart, and we worked quickly, Fiyero providing much more help than I'd been expecting. By the time the doors officially opened and the first few children arrived, everything was perfectly in place.

I'd been expecting Fiyero to take off not long after he dropped off the books, but he continued to surprise me. He talked to the kids and their families as they came in, and not long into the event, he borrowed a map of the table layouts from one of the more experienced volunteers. Within ten minutes, he was helping direct kids and families with questions, carrying their books, and sending them to people who could answer questions if he ran into one he didn't know the answer to.

I kept an eye on him all the same, expecting the other shoe to drop. Surely, the Fiyero that had destroyed my books and the rest of the library would make a reappearance at some point. And yet, he never did. The new Fiyero not only stayed, but he stayed later than some of my regular volunteers. The sun was setting by the time the last kids and families left, and Fiyero was still here, along with my most dedicated volunteer core. I shook my head as I crossed the space to talk to him, still not quite believing this had been real.

"Well!" he said, addressing me with a smile and his hands on his hips as soon as he noticed me coming. "That seems like it was a success!"

"Yeah. We're still looking at numbers, but... I think it might've been our most successful event ever."

Fiyero's smile took on a warm glow that made him much, much more handsome than I'd ever thought possible when he was destroying books.

"Congratulations."

Heat rose to my face as I glanced at the ground.

"Yeah, well... thanks." When I met his eyes again, that same warm smile almost knocked me flat as my heart raced in my chest. Still, I forced myself to take a breath and return to reality. "...Why are you here?"

Fiyero frowned. "Am... I not wanted?"

"No! No, that's not what I was trying to say. Seriously. I appreciate all your help, both with the books and with the kids today. Honestly, you were great. But... I don't know, I'm just surprised, is all. You didn't really strike me as the type of guy to hang around volunteering at a book fair for an entire day."

Fiyero hummed, glancing down with a self-deprecating smile on his face. I watched him with interest, especially when he met my eyes again with more sincerity than I'd honestly believed him capable of.

"I didn't strike myself as that type either. In fact, I pride myself on my ability to corrupt my fellow classmates despite the best efforts of people like you. But... it was nice to be a part of this. Speaking with you in the library... it's clear how much this matters. To you, of course, but to the kids and their families who come to this event... It obviously does a lot of good. It was nice to be a part of creating that."

I smiled at Fiyero, something I never could've imagined doing just a few hours ago.

"Not what I expected to hear from Mr. Nothing Matters."

Fiyero shrugged. "Well..."

He turned slightly away from me, rubbing the back of his neck and moving like he was going to retrieve his bike and leave. I reached out and grabbed his hand before he could get very far, to both our surprise. Fiyero looked at me with raised eyebrows, a light behind his eyes that I'd never seen before.

"It was wonderful to have your help," I said. "I kind of hate to admit it, but... you were a big part of the reason this event was such a success. You found replacements for books that families and kids had been waiting for and expecting, but more than that, you spent time with them. You're a prince. Whether or not you care about the title, taking the time to talk to, help, and encourage those kids, who all know exactly who you are? It was a big deal. So thank you. I'm really glad you decided to be a part of this."

The last of the guarded expression faded from Fiyero's face as he fixed me with a soft smile. He stepped closer to me, and after a moment, I let my hand fall from his before clearing my throat.

"Anyway..." I said, trying to break whatever intensity was currently building between the two of us. "If you wanted to keep doing stuff like this, you know, helping make a difference... I host a reading group every week with some of the kids who are more local. I'd love to have your help hosting that, if you'd be interested."

Fiyero was fully grinning at me now, the confidence bordering on arrogance back in full force. This time, though, I didn't quite mind it as much.

"I'd love to help with that," he said. "On one condition."

"...And what's that?"

"As long as agreeing to help with your reading group doesn't prevent me from asking you out to dinner. And maybe for some dancing, to celebrate Shiz's best ever book fair."

Despite myself, I smiled, my heart flipping in my chest. If he'd had the nerve to ask me out a week ago, I would've slapped him. Now, I quite literally couldn't think of anything I'd rather do to celebrate.

"I think we can make that work," I said, fighting and losing to a smile of my own.

"Perfect. How about... tomorrow night?"

"You're on."

We shared another smile, but before we could do anything else, the voices of my friends, the other volunteers who'd been the most involved in this event, broke in. We'd all made plans to go out and celebrate once this event was officially finished, and although they were probably pretty interested in seeing what happened with Fiyero and I, none of them wanted to wait any longer to celebrate.

"One second!" I called, waving to them before turning back to Fiyero. He was still watching me with a little smile, and it made my heart race when I noticed it. "...Do you want to come with us?"

His eyebrows shot up.

"Where are you going?"

"The Oz Dust. We're celebrating a successful event, and you were certainly a part of creating that success. It wouldn't feel right to celebrate without you."

Fiyero grinned, then took my hand in his. My heart skipped a beat, but I pushed through, letting Fiyero pull me along and towards the group of my friends.

"It would be my honor," he said, giving me one last look before turning with a smile to greet the rest of our group. I followed, watching him, still a little in awe. Whatever had caused this change in Fiyero, it was truly amazing to see. Everyone else in the school seemed to be smitten with the party boy, but suddenly, I found myself head over heels for the version of him that seemed to care as much as I did, now that he'd found a cause worth caring about.

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

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[bunny-jpeg]

✿❯────「✿i'm get money, i'm a star - toto w.✿」────❮✿

"daddy." you said as you straightened out your back a little bit. you crossed your arms under your breasts and stuck them out a little more. but toto wasn't looking away from the morning paper. you shifted from one foot to another, "daddy!" you sounded a little more whiny. in all fairness you had been standing there for almost three minutes and your daddy still hadn't given you a lick of attention. his eyes on the paper, even your whines went on deaf ears.

you got closer to him and leaned forward, getting your breasts in the way of his paper. he looked at you, creases in his brow as he adjusted his glasses, "yes, mon cheri." you knew toto wolff was good with his tongue, you've seen him switch between languages with ease, and also that time he made you cum from three strokes of his tongue. you looked at him and he kept his gaze on your eyes. you pouted a little, "you're ignoring me." "i wasn't, treasure. i have to keep an eye on the economy if you want that trip of france next month." you didn't know what he was talking about, all you knew about the become was that green meant good and that toto had a lot of it. you said, "but, you were ignoring me."

even the most dangerous man in central europe wasn't immune to your puppy dog eyes.

toto wolff was smitten by you. if he wasn't they would've never found your body. toto wasn't fond of yappy idiots, but you were endearing. the way the light reflected off your eyes, how you were so eager to please, anything toto needed from you, he got. you were so gentle, you'd never survive outside of his grasp. you were safe with him. he knew the problem with most girls your age was that, they were too stubborn and didn't listen to an older guiding hand. such pretty things wasted on running their mouths. some need to sit there and look pretty. listen when being spoken to. you let his words soak in your brain and his cum soak in your panties. he was a scary mafia boss, the wolff from hell. and you were the little thing he picked up along the way. the tiny thing with the pouty lips and doe-like expressions. who rubs her pretty breasts all over him to get his attention and is whiny like a puppy. eventually you got into his lap and he put the paper down.

he kissed at your face for a moment, "you need manners, treasure. you cannot go around and become a brat. i trained you better." his rough words made you rub your thighs together as you clung to his t-shirt. you looked at him, his larger frame loomed over you like a domineering shading. it casted you in darkness as he looked at you. you giggled a little, "you look good in your glasses, daddy." he held you closer, "well, that's good to know. now, what does my treasure want? what was so important that you had to tell me right away." you giggled and licked your lips, then pressed your breasts up against him. your curious eyes gazed at him, "i missed you. i woke up and you were out of bed." he chuckled and held the back of your head with tenderness, "well, it's already past noon most would be out of bed by now. but not you, right, schatzi?" you nodded at him as you felt his hard cock against your lower back. you clung to him and he leaned in for a kiss as he held you close to him. you squirmed a little bit more and he kissed you again. you felt so delicate in his touch, you knew what he had done. the lives he had taken with his own hands. they were large and the strength to them could easily bruise you if not out right kill you. but with you he was much nicer, more aware of his strength. he was aware that when he got his fingers between one of your nipples, that he was holding onto you with a bruising pressure. he watched you whine and squirm at his touch. "needy girl." he said, "usually you're so good for me. don't tell me you are slipping. i'd hate to train you again, it was hard to house break you the first time." that his way of saying that he made sure that you were his ideal woman. and you happily accepted it. why would you deny your mafia lover. the big scary wolff. you rubbed your hips against his and said, "no, i've been good and i'll keep being good." and then made a small noise when he pressed his lips against yours. those were the words he liked to hear.

he wanted to hear you were good for him. when he finished groping your breasts he got you over the kitchen table. when he pulled down your sleeping shorts, he saw that you were not wearing panties. someone missed him, someone was thinking about him when they woke up. you felt his cock pressed against your back as he rubbed your clit with your shorts around your left ankle. he kept another hand wrapped around your throat. his voice was low in your ear as he rubbed his clothed cock up against your soaked pussy, "are you going to be good, schatzi, or?" you swallowed and arched your back and responded, "i'll always be good for you, daddy." you held onto the edge of the table and let yourself be tease. you pouted with your cheek against the expensive wood of the table. you should be thankful that he didn't rip your clothes off of you, it would've have been the first time he did that. your back arched when you felt him slide his cock into you, you whimpered a little bit and then pressed your cheeks against your crossed wrists for some kind of cushion against the unforgiving table. toto hissed through his teeth as he moved against you. his cock as deep as it could go and it felt like it was in your stomach. his pace was unforgiving, you were so good under him. you always were, a good little puppy for him. letting him use and abuse your sweet sex for his own pleasure, you knew every ache would be soothed with kisses and by the next day your daddy would buy you something pretty. only the best for the boss' pet.

you didn't need to think, just be at your knees like a good girl. be all smiles and delicate in your lover's grasp. and while you didn't need to think you had to be polite to toto's 'friends'. toto continued to move against you, your hips hitting against the edge of the table. the older man had to admit, getting a good feel of your pussy first thing in the morning was better than any coffee. it lit him like a wire and made him move harder against you. if the table was any lighter it would be moving against the floor. his hips gripped onto your hips as he kissed at your neck, his cock felt so good inside of you. it messed up your insides and made you pant heavily against the wood. you could barely form words, just 'daddy' coming out like a pathetic little chant. it only turned toto on further. you were toto wolff's pretty little thing, the shiniest diamond in his collection. he kissed at the side of your neck as he rutted against you. he listened keenly to your soft noises and felt something hot in his gut. you were beautiful. "always so good for me, treasure." he said, "under me like a good girl." his voice was rough and rubbed against the sides of your head perfectly. you felt flushed as you tried to keep up with his rapid pace. when you came, your pretty pink nails gripped onto the flat surface of the table, you whined against the your wrists and it only fueled his fire. "please, daddy." you said softly.

he was a dangerous man, but he always found a softness between your legs. he angled your hips a little higher, putting you on your tip-toes and pushed you further against the table. it rocked against his hard thrusts as he panted heavily against your heated skin. his words were mush in your over stimulated brain, but it made you feel hot. "you look beautiful like this. under me. you know exactly how to get the attention you want. you're a needy little whore, but that's alright. i'll give you all the attention you want." he kissed the shell of your ear before he gave a few more heavy thrusts of his hips. soon he finished inside of you with a heated groan. he didn't want to admit that his legs were a little wobbly as he came down from the high. that was the effect of your wet cunt. when he pulled out, he shoved two fingers inside of your slick hole once more, he loomed over you as he battered your pussy with his thick digits. the roughness of the tips dragging across your more sensitive areas has you whimpering. toto was far from finished with you.

if you wanted daddy's attention so badly, then he'd give it to you in spades.

maybe begging for attention wasn't the smartest idea, but as you laid out on the table, sweaty and hot, the thought didn't cross your mind. only your lover's thick fingers making a further mess of your pretty pussy.

[ssahotchnerr]

omg please part 2 off wishful thinking it was so good

we make sense, don't we?

thank you my sweet! cw; bau!reader, idiots realized <3, angst if you really squint, aaron pouring his heart out and FLUFF wc; 1k

part one

Saturday night had arrived; the sun was just beginning to sweep below the horizon. As a result, your living room filled with a comforting warm glow, contrasting the restless feeling your body currently held.

The thought had just entered your mind - you should've been getting ready for the date by now - but a sudden knock at your door interrupted your thinking.

Confused, you rose and crossed the threshold of your apartment. You opened the door, revealing none other than Aaron Hotchner.

"Oh," You blurted out, your heart picking up. "It's you."

You've never seen him like this; Aaron ridden with nerves. His eyes were somber, yet on edge. At first glance, they were desperate. His hands were buried within his pockets, and despite his nervousness, he didn't dare pull his eyes away from yours. "Can we talk?"

"Um, of course. Sure." You opened the door slightly more, allowing him the room to enter. "Come on in."

He thanked you with a swift nod, stepping inside. You closed the door, slowly, to fill the tense silence that hung over your heads, both of you figuring out what to say.

"What is it?" You leaned against the wall, crossing your arms across your chest. You were suddenly hyper-aware of your actions; should your arms be crossed, or was at your side better? What did your hair currently look like, after spending a rotting day on the couch, nose buried in a book. You nearly blanched at the thought, hoping you didn't look too horrendous.

However, while you contemplated your unkempt appearance, Aaron thought quite the opposite.

"I wasn't honest with you."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "About-"

"I don't think you should go on that date tonight." He confided earnestly, feeling nearly sick to his stomach at the thought. To be fair, he had felt similarly since the initial conversation on the jet. He could barely eat the past few days, his throat uncomfortably locked with dread. Regret.

Your mouth parted slightly, in surprise. You would've given anything to hear him say those words on the jet. But for now, your eyes only searched his for more.

"It's not my place to dictate what you do, and I'm not here to change your mind either," He honestly said, internally accepting the possibility his impromptu visit was for nothing. That he was truly, too late. "But you asked what I thought."

It took you a second, still soaking in his words, before you nervously queried. "What do you think, then?"

This is when he tore away his gaze - taking a moment to himself - internalizing what was due to be said and finding a sense of composure. He sighed heavily. Here it goes.

"You and me, we work, don't we?" He hadn't realized how frustrated he was until the admission left his mouth - his voice ached. He continued without waiting for an answer, his words flowing freely now that they've grazed the surface. "I don’t know about you, but I can’t pretend anymore. I can't keep pretending that there's nothing going on between us. I don't need to elaborate, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Right?" He took a step towards you. "We make sense."

"Then why haven't you asked me out?" Your voiced twinged too, partially at fault as well. You never initiated anything, either.

The empty hole that maintained home in the middle of his chest seemingly deepened, sadness brimming at the rim. "As cliché as this statement is, it's complicated. I'm complicated. It's... I'm good at shutting people out. You know how I am with the team, others, I prefer it even."

"But then with you... it's addictive almost, you're addictive. I don't know how else to put it. If I'm not near you, I have the utmost desire to be. You make me want to be open and vulnerable and as much as I fear I'd have a negative imprint on you" Like Haley. "I'm sick of allowing that to control my life. So I'm giving in to it, to be with you. If you'd let me, that is."

You blinked up at him, utterly speechless.

"Which, I'm sorry for coming over unannounced. Unfairly at that," An breath escaped from his nose, resisting the urge to clench his jaw in jealousy. "Before Cameron-"

"Actually," You finally found your voice, interrupting him and feeling lighter than ever. "He's not."

His eyebrows furrowed, a stern yet quizzically pull forming on his face. You could've sworn there wasn't a more adorable sight. "What?"

"I called the date off." You shook your head. "I didn't want to go, and the only reason why I even considered it was because I needed the distraction. From you."

There was an instant change in Aaron; his shoulders dropped, his face softened. Relief swept through him, he could breathe again.

"Truth is," You took a breath, bravely moving yourself closer and bringing your hand to his neck. You could feel his heartbeat racing underneath your fingers. "I've longed for you so much. So much it's almost embarrassing." You laughed gently, a faint blush appearing at your cheekbones. "Long story short, I've been holding out for you all along. No one is you. And it wouldn't be fair to James, you, or myself if I went through with it."

"Of course. Of course I feel it." You laughed gently, a sly smile tugging at your lips as your fingertips brushed against his skin. "Guess we've been on the same page all along, huh?"

"We're stupid, aren't we?" He laughed, his head leaning into your touch as your hand rose to cup his cheek.

"Definitely."

Aaron allowed himself to look at you, he wouldn't deprive himself any longer. He was free to fully admire you without the fear of being caught - no limitations. Lovesick.

"Are you just going to stare at me all night?" You quipped, a light tease in your voice and with just an admirable gaze at him in return.

"Maybe," He mumbled back as his smile resurfaced, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "There's something else I'd rather do, in fact."

Your heart skipped a beat, "oh?"

"Can I please kiss you?"

[frenchie-simone]

Awoken

almost pg

tags: confession, x-men 1 Logan, kinda angsty but not really, mutant & immortal reader

a/n: first time writing fanfiction on tumblr!! i didn’t do smut for this one because it would’ve been to long but just say the words and i’m on it

You wouldn't have confessed to Logan if he hadn't been on the verge of death. You would've stayed silent your whole immortal life and eventually forgot about him. That's what you told yourself: it will pass. Somewhere in you, you knew, these feelings would always linger.

Now, there he was, laying on Jean’s table in medical, nearly all life sucked out of him by Rogue. You wanted to blame her, blame him, but you couldn't. Not when you knew it was what needed to be done.

Everyone had already gone to bed hours ago. You’d been sitting next to his limp body for hours on end, squeezing his hand so hard you were breaking his bones. Seeing him like this made you scared that his healing powers weren't enough, that they couldn't save him. You were seriously afraid that he might die that day. Assuming he was unconscious, you began speaking: “Logan… fuck, I can't- even when you can't hear me, it’s so difficult telling you. I know you care about me, and I care about you, but for your part, I think it’s just friendly. We’re friends, yeah? You've saved me so many times, nearly as many times as I've saved you”, you chuckled, “and God, it kills me that I can't help you now.”

Logan’s finger twitched in your hand, but you thought nothing of it. You knew that people twitch in their sleep. You continued: “We got a good thing going on, you know. People tell me that they've never seen you care for someone as much as you care for me. That warms my heart so much, and you have no idea how hard it is to keep my face neutral. I think that in a way, Logan, we’re so similar. We both endured horrible things, and in an attempt to keep us shielded, we've shut off everyone who’s tried to care. And I tried shutting you off, and I know you tried to shut me off as well, and fuck, I did my best. But I can't anymore, because every single interaction we've had just stays in my mind and only leaves until I've seen you again. I wish it was just attraction, a little crush, but I crave to be near you, Logan. Every single sign of affection you show me leaves me wanting more. I can't look at you, let alone be within five feet of you and function normally. You are a distraction, the worst kind. But I need you there, everywhere, to distract me. Logan, I need you. I want you. I… I love you, you fucking idiot.”

With those words off your chest, even if he didn't hear you, you just began weeping and buried your face in him. Your tears were soaking his arm hair and running down his skin. For just a minute, you stayed like that.

All of a sudden, you felt a hand on the top of your head. You jumped at the touch, but then understood. He's awake. Logan is awake. Alive. Healed. His large hand stroked your hair until going down to cup your cheek. You finally gathered yourself from the disbelief and raised your eyes to meet his. He was smiling gently, a warmth in his hazel eyes you'd never seen before. He wiped away a tear that had fallen down to your lips. His touch against your mouth warmed your whole body. Just a second ago, you didn't even know if you were going to see his eyes open again. “Logan,” you managed to whisper shakily. His lips had formed a grin that told you he heard you. He knew how you felt. In embarrassment, you tried turning your face away from him, but his strong hand held your face in place, forcing you to look at him.

“Darling, you should’ve told me sooner. Now we've just wasted time,” he said, lowering his hand and pulling off every cable attached to his bare chest. He noticed the slight confusion on your face and laughed. Before you could even react, he stood up from the table leaving you sitting at the edge. He came to stand before you, opened your legs and pulled you closer to him by your waist. You were pushed against his hard chest, your hands being confused about where to land. “How haven't you realized? You drive me insane, woman,” he said in a low voice, almost growling, before connecting his lips to yours in a surprisingly gentle way. Your body felt like it could combust in sparks just by his lips being on yours. You were caught off guard at first, but then you eagerly kissed him back and grabbed his face in your hands. His grip around your waist tightened when you subconsciously slipped your tongue into his mouth. You moaned against his mouth as his tongue fought back, almost hitting the back of your throat. You grabbed onto his shoulders in an attempt to keep yourself upright. He groaned, and the sound of it just made you even crazier. You tried squeezing him closer, tugging at his body everywhere you could and practically ate his mouth for dinner. He answered your body’s request with almost double the intensity, lifting you further up the table and then crawling on top of you, positioning his knee right between your legs. You tried to muffle a pathetic whimper, but failed. He chuckled against your mouth and lifted himself just enough for you to look him in the eyes. The yearning look on your face was just enough to push him over the edge.

“My room, now,” he purred.

[icallhimjoey]

ARE WE GONNA GET FIRED? Fuckwe are so screwed we are so gonna get fired. If we get fired can we please blame Joe? And can he make it up to us? Because we're cute? 🥺🥺🥺 Thank yooooou!

oh we ARE screwed, but you're right, we are also very cute 🥰 Wordcount: 3.9K

---

Mistaken, Not Stirred

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Thin ice. 

You remembered Martin saying you were on thin ice, that one morning. And you'd understood. Agreed, even. You just thought that maybe the ice would've thickened up enough by now. 

It had nearly been three weeks. It should've thickened up plenty.

It hadn't.

But instead, you'd fallen through. Hadn't even heard it crack, no real warning signs alerting you that maybe you ought to be extra careful still.   

You left the bar in a weird defeated state, tears of frustration streaming down because you were an idiot. The biggest one you knew.

You hadn't for one moment thought that looking Joe in the eye when he walked in as you walked out would've lead to what it eventually did. 

"Hey, are you– what's going on?" 

It startled you enough to stop walking, and you looked at the wall next to you, jaw working and eyes blinking, hoping you could somehow make it stop. Make this stop, because you knew what Joe was going to do. You had gotten to know him well enough to know what he was going to suggest and offer and just... do. Even if you told him not to.

Fired. 

You'd gotten big-girl-fired. 

You were back in the same spot you'd found yourself in months earlier, where you'd had all of these same worries. How were you going to tell people you'd lost your job again? Would your landlord have the patience to give you a few extra days if you needed them? Would your dad look at you like that again when you'd eventually ask for some money that you'd swear you'd pay back the minute you'd make some?

You'd gotten fired.

Should've probably gotten fired after you and Joe left the bar in a right state.

Hadn't then, for whatever reason. Benefit of the doubt, maybe. Being cute had been enough then, maybe.

Thin ice, was all that Martin had said.

Joe looked at you now, stood in the long hallway in between the bar and the stairs that lead up towards the exit, and you couldn't look him in the eye. Couldn't even say why you were crying without hatred bubbling up inside your chest, all of it directly aimed at yourself.

God, you were so fucking stupid. 

Tears spilled, and Joe pulled you to the side by an elbow.

"Do you want me to go talk to–" 

You shook your head. Didn't want him to interfere. Not again.

"Because I will, you know? It's no trouble. I will–" 

"No, please don't, it's–" you hiccuped. "It was inevitable, wasn't it? It's fine, it's–" your throat closed and you shook your head. Looked away down the hallway as you blinked rapidly, eyelashes fluttering.

"Go have fun, it's nice inside tonight, there's–" you stuttered on an inhale and felt how Joe squeezed the elbow he was still holding. "There's live music and Martin's probably already mixing you something, he's making– he made a ramos gin fizz earlier, it's really good, you should get him to–" 

"Hey," Joe stopped you from rambling. Said your name and you finally managed to look up and meet his gaze.

"I'll talk to him." 

"No," you forced a sigh. Forced your shoulders to drop and relax. "You don't have to, you–"

"I will."

"I fucked up the drinks again, and I–" 

"Give me your phone." 

You looked at him a moment, then flicked your eyes down at the hand he held out to you. After another moment of hesitation, you fished it from your pocket and handed it over.

Joe took a look and gave it right back.

You had to unlock it first.

Joe put his number in, then called himself. It gave you a moment to peer back inside, and you saw Martin mix a drink whilst Chloé was stood next to him. Talking. Probably telling him about what else you'd done wrong. About how she thought he'd made the right choice by telling you to wrap up and not needing you to come back in again.

"It'll be fine." Joe said, twisting your phone in his hands, giving it back to you. "You'll be all right." 

And you didn't know what that meant.

You'd just been fired.

For something you didn't even fully understand, but you knew you were on thin ice, had listened to Martin tell you that you were on thin ice three weeks ago, and if you added up all the bullshit, then, yea, of course you were fired. It made total sense. But that didn't make it sting less, and you'd immediately bursted into tears when Martin pulled you into the back and said that this was it.

You cost him more than you made him.

"And I'm not just talking about money."

Took more than you gave, and somehow that was the worst of it.

If you really thought about it, the fact that you managed to hold onto your position for three more weeks after that one morning was quite the miracle in and of itself. That day where you woke up with warm heavy limbs in your bed that belonged to someone else. That took up most of your mattress. That hogged most of your duvet. That tried to pull you in for cuddles and snuggles after your phone call with Martin, who had just told you to come into work to fix whatever fucking mess you left the night before. 

You'd almost punched him then. 

Elbowed him in the soft of his stomach instead and wrestled yourself free.

Panicked.

Your boss was angry with you and Joe was in your bed.

Joe from the bar.

Shit.

Your job.

Your boss.

His friend.

Mistake.

One plus one became two inside your head, brain all scrambled, and Joe became part of the guilt and, fuck off, your boss was upset because you'd fucked his friend? That couldn't be right. Felt right, though.

Ten minutes.

You had ten minutes to get to work.

There was no time to brush your teeth, or your hair. You just quickly pushed legs into jeans and feet into shoes and with a cloudy mind you told Joe to do the same. To get out. Six minutes later, you were rushing down the street with Joe on your heels. 

"Let me come, I can help–" Joe was in all of his clothes, but none of it seemed done up. He'd only just managed to close his jeans before you pushed him out the door.

"Go home, Joe."

Hurried footsteps carried you through the drizzling rain, down the wet pavement. The bar was close, just a couple of streets away, but you knew you'd be drenched in no time.

Guilt.

Embarrassment. 

Shame. 

You kind of deserved to get drenched a little bit. It was still dark out, far too early for your own liking, everything wet and cold.

The dread of an angry supervisor hanging over you.

The potential loss of a job.

This was a bad morning.

There was no time to think of Joe and his undone shoelaces. His grey scarf that was about to slide from his neck. His coat collar that stuck up on his left and was folded over on his right. His messy soft curls and pillow creases across his cheek.

It had only just gone 8AM.

You had no idea Martin would already be at the bar at eight.  

Why was he already at the bar at eight?  

"Come on, there's mess I made, it's only fair if I clean that up myself, you don't–"

"I said, go home, Joe." You were adamant.

"At least let me talk to Martin, I'll explain, I'll–"

"No." 

There was nothing left of the teasing, and smirks, and the playful push and pull between the two of you. You were angry, mostly at yourself, and it put fire in your legs. Joe desperately tried to keep up as he followed you and he slowed you down in the process. 

His mistake. 

"No." you’d said and abruptly stopped, making Joe nearly crash into you.

You turned to see Joe squint, trying to keep the rain from getting him in the eyes as he tried to fix his scarf.

"Do you know what it'll look like if I walk in with you? I can't imagine what he must think if he sees…" you sighed, eyes closed and nostrils flared. "No. You can, I don't know, you can come in when the bar's actually open and talk to Martin then if you want."

"But–" 

“You're not listening!” it was too early to deal with some guy's hero complex. You'd fucked and fucked up and you were going to walk into work where you knew someone was angry and upset and, oh no, actually disappointed in you, and there was no breakfast in your system, no coffee, no carbs, no nothing, and you still smelled of vermouth and salty olive brine, had sticky fingers still from God knows which juices– it was all wrong.

Joe had to understand.

And then, he did.

"Okay." Joe said, nodding. "Okay. Just…"

You were running late and were about to get yelled at.  

You didn't have time for bullshit.  

"I'm sorry." His hand reached out, hovered near your arm, not touching because you didn’t really seem like you wanted to be touched right now.

Which was difficult.

Joe really wanted to touch you right now.

His apology fixed nothing in the moment. You'd probably be glad for it later, but now, it meant zero to you. It was mostly inconvenient, because it had taken up precious time you didn't have to spare.

It didn't help that Joe looked like someone you wanted to be hugged by until all the bad things had gone away.

Life didn't work like that, though.

Unfortunately.

"Yea, okay, thanks. I'll see you later." You grumbled, turned around and left, jogged the first few steps, and were glad Joe didn't follow you when you glanced over your shoulder. 

Your pace slowed down when you reached the matte black door, and you reluctantly went inside. You were immediately confronted with your wrongdoings and picked up Frank's stool that Joe knocked over the night before.

Shit.

You were so screwed.

If you'd have been Martin, you would have fired yourself over the phone.

You made your way down and winced at how sticky the floor was. 

Yea, you were absolutely going to get fired.

"Good morning," you carefully spoke into the bar when you laid eyes on Martin.

He was sat in one of the leather armchairs with his laptop.

"Good?" he asked, seemingly surprised at your choice of words, and you recoiled. 

Of course this wasn't a good morning.

"I'm sorry, I'll..." you lowered your head and took your coat off.

"You will...?" Martin waited for you to finish your sentence.  

"I don't know, I have no excuses. I'll– I'll get to work."

You pushed your sleeves up and avoided eye-contact as jittery legs carried you over to behind the bar. Said nothing, cheeks red with embarrassment, and silently started with the shards of glass you'd left there. 

It took you nearly an hour to get the bar looking like it should've looked when you clocked out last night, and it was stupid how often you caught yourself glancing at the spot where Joe always sat. Made you realise you probably did that all the time. Give a quick glance that way. Should stop doing that, probably.

Martin seemed to warm up to you the further along you got, and when you were finally finished, he said, "Make yourself a coffee and come sit with me a second."

You prepared for a scolding, and got one. 

Deserved it too. You understood. Agreed.

You listened to all the action-reactions, to all the cause-and-effects. To the boundaries-and-limitations. To the lines you'd very clearly crossed, and you waited for him to tell you that he was going to have to let you go.

But then Martin said James and Chloé shouldn't have left you to do the work yourself. It wasn't just you he was unhappy with.

Your instinct was to take full blame and to argue him on it.

You wanted to tell him that they didn't leave you all alone, because Frank was still there when they left, and then you told Frank to go home. That was your mistake. Your fault. But Martin wouldn't let you speak. 

"You're not completely off the hook yet," he warned, eyes scanning across the bar that looked fine now, but his eyes seemed softer.

"Thin ice." 

You nodded. Fully understood. Repeated, "Thin ice." and accepted that you brought more trouble into this place than anything else, but were really fucking pleased you were allowed to keep the job. 

"All right. See you in a few hours." Martin dismissed you.

Getting back into your wet coat, your stomach grumbled with hunger, but the self-loathing would have to do for breakfast today. You hoped that with every step up the stairs, you'd lose some of the dread you felt at having to come back later and face the music once more. 

Thin ice. 

When you stepped through the door into the light of day, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air as you acclimated for a second. It was no longer raining, and the cold air stung your lungs, but it was nice. Made everything feel a little calmer than it had all felt inside.

"How did it go?"

You jumped clear out of your skin, heart immediately in your throat, adrenaline surging right into your toes.

"Jesus!"

"Sorry, I didn't meant to startle you,"

"What the fuck are you..." you frowned, caught your breath and tried to come to terms with why the hell Joe was there still. Had he waited around outside this whole time for you?

The urge to hurt him was still there, but you only pretended you were going to slap him. Just wanted to make him flinch, which worked. Lurched forward with a raised arm that never swung. Scared him before it made him laugh, and then you failed miserably at hiding a smile of your own.

"Was everything okay?"

"Yea... yea, it's, it's fine. I didn't get fired, I'll..." you sighed, seemed exhausted. "I'm going to go home, I'll see you later." 

You waited for Joe to say something before you would turn around to leave, but Joe didn't say anything for a second. Just looked at you a moment, and you could see how his eyebrows quirked up a little with empathy.

He shouldn't have done that.

He shouldn't have made himself look so soft for you.

It made you abandon rational thought.

Made your eyes flick down to his mouth

Made you step a little closer, and then Joe was already leaning down when you got a hold of a wet coat collar to pull him in for a kiss.

A slow kiss.

Too slow for the time of day.

Too slow and too soft for what all of it, all of this, whatever that even was, had been the night before.

You pulled yourself away when you started to feel yourself lose it a little, and then poked him in the stomach for good measure. To set the record straight. To remind Joe of what this was.

It caught him by surprise, and Joe recoiled, stomach muscles tensed as he bent into you and showed the hurt in his face.

"Hmm," you smirked. "Good thing I'm cute."

And with that you turned on your heel.

Left him there.

Joe watched you walk away and did an awful job at hiding his grin.

When you disappeared around the corner, Joe glanced at the door and, he just couldn't help himself. Told himself he shouldn't go in. You didn't want him to go in. But then he went inside anyway and talked to Martin who wasn't surprised to see him at all. That should've maybe given something away then.

"Not your responsibility, Joe. She works here, not you."

"I know, but she made me the perfect martini last night and I just thought–"

Martin raised a hand in a bid to shut Joe up. It half-worked. Joe backed off a little. Held up two hands and took a step back, and then said, "Almost liked it better than yours." before disappearing into the hallway and shouting, "I'll see you tonight!" over his shoulder.

Joe'd be back over that evening. Would see Martin then. Would see you then, and couldn't fucking wait.

At 9PM that evening Joe'd walked in, had sauntered over to his usual seat and sat down. Smiled and nodded, mouthed hi at all staff as he took his coat off and didn't like how you ignored him. How you didn't greet him at all.

But he got it.

This was a bit awkward, probably.

But fine.

He could make it not awkward.

Joe looked at Martin who seemed busy with a tray of drinks, clearly working on a larger order, and caught his attention.

"Interested in trying a poinsettia?"

"Actually, I'd love a dirty martini," Joe said, pretended to be all casual and it made Martin narrow his eyes slightly before he turned to find you. Eyes scanned around the bar, and there you were, talking to some guests, made them smile as you handed them their drinks, no spills this time.

"Give her a second, she'll be right with you."

When you made it back to the bar, Martin put you to work and with shaky hands, under the watchful eyes of both Martin and Joe, you mixed the drink just like you'd done the night before.

Gave it to Joe and turned to clear the workspace of bottles and jars. Heard him say, "Perfect." after a sip and you snuck a look to see Martin smile.

Good.

Everything was fine.

You and Joe had had a weird one time thing, and now he was here, and he was trying to make sure everything was normal still, and it was all fine.

And everything remained fine when Chloé gave you an order and you managed to do it without any issues. There was one hard collision between the two of you, but Chloé just grabbed you by the shoulders to ensure neither of you fell over and then laughed. You swore she was about to tell you sorry, but caught herself just in time and then instead just laughed as she stepped around you.

It was fine.

No more mistakes.

Well.

No more life-altering ones, at least.

You were lucky you were cute.

Joe slipped right back into his annoying-guest slot, and it took a couple more digs from him for you to realise he'd been flirting this whole time.

Flirting.

Joe was lucky he was cute, because had he not been, it would've never fucking worked.

Martin got his goodhearted smile back when a few shifts later he saw Joe sneaking up on you as you were cleaning a table on the other side of the piano. He was the only guest left and decided to make you jump by abruptly using both hands to press down on some of the keys.

You'd nearly cried at the shock, and a weird chase followed where you tried to get Joe in the face with the wet dishcloth you'd been holding. Martin had to stop the running by talking to the both of you like a stern teacher would.

"Oi! No running in my bar!"

It was fine.

And Frank looked on and fondly shook his head with a smile when you'd been sent to go and fix the tinsel that adorned the door outside. The wind and rain had messed with it and it was no use trying to fix what was still up, so you pulled all of it down and decided to start over. Do it properly, and try to make sure it would last until Christmas.

Joe had just walked up, had to finish a cigarette before going in, and decided he didn't mind this view all that much. He stood to the side, next to Frank, and both men watched on as you balanced up high on your knees on one of the barstools as you struggled with staples and tie-wraps.

Tinsel fell down and Joe decided to be kind and saved you climbing off and back onto the stool. He helped by picking up what had dropped, but instead of simply handing it over, he draped it across your neck and held onto it for just a lingering second too long.

Couple of lingering seconds too long.

You felt how he pulled and you kind of had to bend down a bit because if you didn't the tinsel would snap. Couldn't have that. Couldn't have the tinsel snapping.

You'd gotten close enough for it to be weird with Frank there, especially since you were both sporting stupid dopey smiles that did an awful job at hiding how you felt about each other.

Frank had to clear his throat loudly to break you apart.

But everything was fine.

It was fine and remained fine as you grew more confident, the night of mess sort of already forgotten, and after a night of bickering with Joe over payment and tips, you decided that the bar needed an actual tip jar.

"I know you think I get half my drinks for free here, but I'd bet good money that I actually end up paying more than–"

You were already rolling your eyes.

"No, I do! I always tip well, don't I– Martin! Do I not always leave big tips?"

Martin grinned whilst he worked, gave a small nod before picking up a full tray of drinks and bringing it over to a larger table by the piano. It was busy. Martin didn't have time to be entertained by your play fight.

"Well, I kind of need to see it to believe it."

And you'd found an empty jar that you rinsed and stuck a note to. You wrote "Just put the TIP in... see how it feels" in black sharpie and smirked to yourself when you placed it down in front of Joe.

And Joe read it, sighed the deepest of sighs and took the glass jar in hand, pretended to undo his trousers underneath the bar and you shrieked for him to stop it.

Got immediately told of by Martin for fucking around.

"Hey, keep it the fuck down, will you? You. Toilets. They need more loo roll."

Joe apologised, said it was his fault, said he shouldn't have made you scream like that, but Martin kept stern eyes on you for the rest of the night until you got rid of the tip jar.

It was fine. Ups and downs, but nothing insane.

Three weeks passed, and you'd forgotten you were on thin ice still. Christmas was getting closer, and you thought maybe if you made it 'til Christmas, you'd be good to stick around for a good while, you know?

Martin kept giving you shifts, kept giving you tasks that you proved you were able to do right and when one night, you got to close all by yourself once more, you did all of it correctly.

Didn't mix Joe any drinks. Didn't drink whatever he spat out. Didn't kiss him behind the bar, and didn't desert the place because you had to take him home so desperately.

You'd wanted to do all of those things again, but you hadn't.

But you had been on thin ice still, and one big fuck up was enough for Martin to pull you aside and tell you that actually, you wouldn't even make it 'til Christmas.

Fired.

"It'll be fine." Joe'd said. "You'll be all right." and when you hesitated to accept that, Joe used both arms to pull you into him by the shoulders and hugged you tight.

And you wanted to leave. To get out. But you also wanted Joe to squeeze you until all the bad went away, so this felt good.

This felt nice.

You felt how Joe pressed his lips into your hair before he spoke closely to your ear.

"I'll text you, okay? Don't worry, it'll be fine. I'll text you."

---

The Taglisted

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taglist currently full, sorry

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

Hold Me

Pairing: ftm!Leon Kennedy x cis!Male Reader

Summary: Leon's dysphoric and depressed and reader comforts him

Words: 859

Warnings: depression

Notes: I just wanna give him a hug and cuddle him until he feels better :(

if you like my work please support me with either the tip button or visit my kofi page, you can see the pinned post on my blog for more information please look into it

It didn't take very long for you to notice, given it wasn't some huge in-your-face statement, the little things he did just gave it away. Earlier that morning when Leon had finally woken up, it took him a little longer to get out of bed and when he finally did get up he walked hunched in on himself and put on a bigger thicker hoodie than his usual leather jacket. He took a while to get to the bathroom and when he did he hadn't bothered turning the lights on, you guessed so he wouldn't have to look at himself in the mirror.

When you’d offered him breakfast he had declined and pulled out his favorite whiskey and when you eventually took it away from him he had snapped at you and chewed you out. You knew he didn't mean the shit he said but it still hurt and you got a little mean with him in return causing him to recoil and slink back into your guys’ dark bedroom to get back in bed and wallow.

That left you sitting at the kitchen table feeling like an idiot for what you said. You look up at the door to the bedroom before sighing and getting up from the chair, you put Leon’s whiskey back and walk to the bedroom only to hesitate at the door when you hear Leon sniffling. It was very uncommon for Leon to be crying so you couldn't help but feel worried, more so when you pushed the door open to see Leon cocooned in blankets in the dark room “Lee… Baby? What’s wrong?”

You walk into the room unable to take your eyes off of the trembling lump of blankets. “Leave me alone” You have to strain to hear his muffled watery voice and when you do your heart breaks, Leon didn't deserve this. “Tell me what’s wrong baby” You try to be as patient as possible, This is the man you love the man you've been in love with for years, it literally kills you to see him like this. “Just leave me alone.”

It's not hard to hear the desperation in his voice, he needs you but he's too proud to admit it. You take a seat next to him on the edge of the bed and lay your hand on his back “I love you, Leon… Too much to let you deal with this alone” You speak from your heart, you wish that Leon could know the lengths to which you'll go for him to just be happy, It’s true, you love him so much that if you had the choice you’d probably take Leon’s pain and deal with it for him and It pains you so much to see your baby like this.

Upon hearing your words Leon finally breaks down, he sobs quietly into the pillow he's clutching. tears come to your own eyes, Leon sounds so raw and broken, he's been holding this back for years. Years of being alone, years of suffering and trauma, years of being abandoned by the people he fell for. In his eyes you were a gift from god, you were an angel, he hates that you love him of all people and he hates that you care so much and he absolutely despises how gone he is for you.

If it weren't for you Leon would've drank himself to death by now, You were his saving grace and here you come again, unraveling his pathetic form from the covers and wrapping him back up into your arms, holding him to your chest. Leon feels pathetic to say it out loud but since breaking up with his girlfriend before Raccoon City 19 long harrowing years ago he hadn't been held and even then she couldn’t compare to you.

The way he fits against your body, Leon is certain that you were made for each other, You once called him your soulmate and he had scoffed and called you a kid trying to act cool but later after you had left he had cried himself to sleep in the dark of his room because he didn't want to believe it, it was too good to be true, the way you looked at him, the way you smiled at him when you called him your soulmate, it all felt too good to be true and he was so scared.

So scared that he’d lose you because he’s so jaded and old and miserable and everyone he loves always ends up leaving him. but not you, you were so determined to love him, In the beginning, Leon had tried with all of his might to push you away but you stayed, no matter how hurtful or nasty or pathetic he acted. You stayed and you loved him unconditionally through all of it and now here you were, petting his greasy hair and rocking him back and forth as he cried pathetically into your shirt.

He vaguely recognized you talking, saying something about how good he was and how strong you think he is but the words only made him cry harder, you were his angel.

COMING UP NEXT - SEP 22

Pairing: cis!Simon Riley x Male Reader

Summary: Simon is angry and takes it out on his boyfriend

Words: 666😳

SEE NOW ON - kofi

[six-eyed-samurai]

I succumbed to temptation and wrote a lil something for our Geto Junior and big bro Suguru-nii once more...

"Hey, Satoru, can I ask a question?"

"Make it quick, I'm grinding right now." Gojo's fingers smacked the phone so hard and so many times it was a miracle it hadn't broken... but seeing how rich he was he'd probably replace it within a day with a newer, better model. "SHOO, TJ UNDERSCORE 010, THAT WAS MY KILL!"

Geto pinches the bridge of his nose. "Does my hair really look that weird?"

"HAR?!"

Gojo actually slams down his phone. Geto breathes a sigh of relief; it can't be that bad if Gojo is stunned he's asking the question, right? Maybe those bangs weren't as bad of a decision as he had thought yesterday.

"HA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Never mind.

Geto threw a cushion off the couch at him, ears reddening against his will. "Stop laughing! What's wrong with them, boke?"

"Everything! Shoko told me not to say anything because it'd be embarrassing if you thought they were cool, but if you're asking...ha! Hahahaha! Who told you they were ugly?" Gojo pounded his fist on the floor, writing around like a gasping fish full of mirth.

"Mhm..."

***

The day before..:

"AAAAH! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

"Your house?" Geto self-consciously reaches a hand to his hair. What on earth had gotten into his brother, digging his head under the pillow and yelling blue murder? Granted, kids at this age of not yet double digits were kinda...yeah, but he'd never seen him act this way before, throwing a literal fit the moment he opened the door. "Are you - are you mad at me for going out without you or something? I already told you I was just going to the salon, you would've been bored, and I thought that show you were watching only airs at 2."

The younger kid's mouth fell open and hung there, suspicion and terror immediately creeping into his widened eyes. "How do you know all that, you imposter! You must've been spying on Suguru-nii! Stop pretending to be him!"

Is he seriously continuing the spy game from this morning?

Geto plopped himself down next to him on the couch, throwing off the pillow and grabbing his legs before his idiot brother could roll off and away; he clapped a hand over his mouth, causing the boy to cease his accusing mumbles of trying to take the "real Suguru-nii's place". If eye rolling was a sport Geto would've won gold, silver and bronze.

"First off, I'm not an imposter, and second, stop squirming around. And don't you lick my hand."

"It was one time! When I was five!" His eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Wait, how do you know that? I'm calling my mom, you fake Suguru!"

Geto actually slapped a hand to his forehead. "Because I AM the real Suguru, idiot!"

"Huh? But the real Suguru wouldn't have gotten such ugly bangs!" The kid wailed in reply.

"..." Unbelievabe. Geto could hear his pride, dignity and all self confidence shattering into a million pieces. "Say that again, you little punk."

"It's true! Suguru-nii is super cool! He wouldn't get this kinda haircut on purpose!" He gasped, nearly falling off Suguru's legs, where he was currently being held hostage. "Someone must have - uh - uh - mailed black him!"

"Blackmail? No, what - what - I got this haircut myself?" Geto groaned loudly, letting his head fall back and tilt towards the ceiling. "How can it be so bad you think I'm an imposter?!"

"It is! And the only way to prove you're the real Suguru is...tell me something only the real Suguru will know!" This kid and his demands...

Geto pretended to think hard, tapping his free hand that wasn't locking his brother in place on his chin. "Well, let's see, remember that time you told everyone you were a big kid and you could sleep without a mattress protector now? And that night you immediately wet the bed even though I told you to go use the bathroom before sleeping? And you made me promise not to tell mom and dad?"

"And it was all because you thought there was a cockroach in your room?" Geto continued, smirking at his brother's crestfallen expression. He began to secretly inch his fingers closer towards his side, preparing for an attack. "Then the next few nights you kept barging into mine to sleep because you were too scared to be alone?"

He gasped. "No, I didn't! I only slept in your room because you took my- HAHAHAHA, STOP! STOP, PLEASE!"

"Never."

Geto couldn't help but chuckle as he went on flattening his baby brother into a pancake on the sofa, digging tickling fingers into all his weak spots and stirring up a racket shrill enough to annoy the neighbours. His brother's writhing and futile attempts to get away were all literally quashed by Geto's irritatingly long limbs.

"STOP! ST-ST-STOP, I'M BE-GI-GIN-GING YOU! O - O - OKAY, OKAY, YOU'RE THE REAL SUGURU! BECAUSE ON - ONLY - ONLY SUGURU-NII IS THIS MEAN TO ME!"

"I'm hurt," Geto whined, finally lifting himself off his squealing younger brother. "Just because my hair's ugly, why wouldn't I be the real Suguru?"

His brother scrunches up his nose in thought, trying to come up with ways to appease Geto and avoid another tickle attack. "Hmmm...you do sound like him and act like him, so you are Suguru! My bad!"

"Dummy." Geto fondly pulls at the kid's own hair. "You gotta stop playing Among Us."

***

"You do sound like him and act like him, so you are Suguru!"

But whoever was using his body wasn't Suguru. Not for the first time he wondered if this was the wisest of decisions, aligning himself with that... entity, despite his desperate sisters Mimi-chan and Nana-chan's attempts to stop him, bring him back, pleading there was a better way to avenge Geto. Regretfully he had to go as far as to disappearing without a trace or a word to Jujutsu High, where they'd have no way to find him.

It was all for a good cause.

A very good, good cause.

To kill Gojo Satoru.

A thought crosses his mind as he fakes a smile at Fushiguro and Itadori, coughing out a fairly convincing boisterous laugh. Kind of ironic now I'm the one playing imposter as well.

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.44

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader, (OC) Callisto x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

Author's note: Sorry for the delay in this chapter, it turned out a bit longer than planned.

(Callisto)

(Brandon)

(Sky)

(Riven)

As I leave the school building with Daniel, my heart stops, and my relaxed features harden. If Daniel hadn't held me back, I would have stormed back inside as soon as their stupid faces became visible. Why are they taking me somewhere where I can meet these characterless snakes yet again? They know how I feel about them! I grip Daniel's shoulder tighter, not even caring when he takes a sharp breath because, given the sword he carries, he is undoubtedly part of this disgraceful plan. Although I am visibly uncomfortable with the situation, Daniel pulls me along with him, but at least he has the decency to keep his mouth shut and look away in shame. And then there are the other two idiots who have already run into the rows of the other class currently training. I admit, the weather is perfect for outdoor training; the spring sun is shining just warm enough on us, and thanks to the walls around the school, even the usually strong early-year winds are not too strong either.

The second year, which I enrolled in instead of just taking my diploma from the Redfountain Academy that Saladin offered me, is the largest ever, with about twenty students per class and fifty classes. Half of these students would've normally left the school in the first year or been kicked out due to poor performance. I've heard rumors that this is thanks to the newly arrived teachers, but I haven't seen any of them—until now.

Close to the wall, in front of the classroom, stands a tall man, his arm at least twice as thick as some people's thighs, with long black hair and biting green eyes, watching my every move. A strange feeling runs down my spine as I look deep into this man's eyes. He feels strange, but I can't put my finger on why. It's the first time I've seen this man, and yet I want nothing more than to make him eat dirt in the most brutal way possible. Just as this urge hits me, Daniel presses my right arm against my body, seemingly afraid I might do something. I turn my head to him and look at him questioningly, but like the little toad he is, he doesn't even honor me by looking back. What a little asshole.

A sudden scream catches my attention. My hands sweat profusely, but when I finally find the source, I sigh in relief, and my heart slowly calms. I thought Vinok was seriously hurt for a moment, but he just got what he deserved. Between the other students still standing at attention, Callisto finally got his arm around Vinok's neck while rubbing the knuckles of his other hand against his head. While watching them, I couldn't help but smile a little. They really are idiots. But it seems they are my idiots; after all, I chose them all myself, except Daniel. He was a lucky little accident but probably the best thing that could have happened.

"Why are we here, Daniel?" I stare at him intently from the side, knowing he'll try to get out of this by pretending he can't hear me. "Don't you dare ignore me now," I warn him further, "or I promise I'll go back inside and sneak into my bed because I really need some more rest."

He just stands there for a moment longer, but I can already see his face breaking. When I don't stop staring at him, he breaks more until his face is completely sunken. A sigh escapes his chapped lips. "We want you to help the others with their training because they are too weak."

"Bullshit," I quickly spit in his direction. "What is the real reason?" I question him with a raised eyebrow. "And don't try to tell me that nonsense again! We both know that most people don't want to be properly trained."

Daniel's face twists in displeasure, but he nods. "We think you should hear out Brandon, Sky, and Riven, and before you say anything, we all know what happened, but at least Brandon deserves to apologize to you."

I shake my head as I feel a little dizzy. How often have I told them I'm not ready for their pathetic excuses? And now they want to force me? Honestly, I'm more than ready just to leave them there, but somehow I can't move. Maybe it's the class's weak posture or the endless possibilities to blackmail them afterward. When I think about it, I actually think it could be a great idea.

Although hesitant, since they still did something underhanded, I move forward faster, almost having to drag Daniel behind me. It doesn't take long before we're behind the class, still standing at attention and not even turning their eyes in our direction. A little creepy, but I have to give them credit: They're disciplined. But that's more or less all they have. I'm afraid that if they go into battle like this, none of them will come back unscathed, let alone alive.

All of them, except the three I've trained with, have terrible posture, don't hold the plasma weapons in their hands well, and, most importantly, are easily distracted. The discipline I previously praised them for easily crumbles when I get close to them. I blow in one's ear, and he jumps; another I stand across from him and stare at him with a sideways glance, and he bursts into giggles.

To say the sight is disappointing would be an understatement. I shake my head and look away from the guy until I finally get to my two idiots. For a brief moment, I stand behind them, hoping for their own good that they'll stop their little game so I don't have to separate them. But alas, they don't. That's just bad luck for them, though. Grinning from ear to ear, I grab each of them by one ear and pull until they not only jump apart but scream and beg me to stop. Maybe hardening my hands with stone is a bit much, but what can I do?

Wordlessly, I step between them and drag them behind me as I make my way to the teacher. His eyes have darkened. The sight puts me on high alert; although his muscles seem inactive at the moment, I wouldn't put it past him attacking me at any moment, at least based on his body language. Despite everything, I ignore his openly hostile behavior.

"Would you mind letting me teach this class for a minute?" Even though it isn't really a question since I would do it anyway, he looks at me sternly. Still, he moves one of his crossed arms to make an inviting gesture. Despite his faked friendliness, I simply nod and quickly turn the idiots around with me, making them whine even more.

Even when they beg with tears in their eyes, I don't let go of their ears. They've gotten on my nerves one too many times, especially Callisto when he woke me up this morning. 

Standing before the class, I look everyone up and down, examining their strengths and weaknesses. I even look each of them in the eyes to assess their mental strength, except for my old roommates, because they don't deserve it. Everyone is still standing at attention, but much more relaxed than before, this disrespectful pack. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. 

"Attention!" I suddenly shout. The air vibrates with a thunderous force, similar to a monster's.

The obviously poorly trained class quickly resumes their rigid bodies from before, all eyes looking straight ahead. I extend my right hand, letting go of Vinok's ear, summoning stones, and quickly forming a staff in my hand. The sound of crunching rocks can certainly be heard even from several meters away. It's gross, but luckily, it doesn't take long before the stone can no longer be cut through by almost anything.

With the weapon in my hand, I finally let go of Callisto's ear and begin walking down the rows between the students.

"I can see in your faces that you think yourselves to be the epitome of military power, the strongest and most intelligent of them all—" I stop speaking, slam the staff onto the ground, and shoot a wave of magic through the floor—"But, as you can see, that's nothing but wishful thinking." Most of the class collapsed from that alone, unable to stand on their feet after this sudden attack. Sky is also lying between them. He becomes visibly embarrassed when I finally look him in the eyes. Disappointed, I look away as I desperately try to hide the growing sneer on my face.

I get Daniel's attention by banging Vinok on the back of the head like a bell and ask him if he knows where the old weapons are hidden. When he responds positively, I grin mischievously at him. The second I tell him to get them, he seems doubtful. But I remain persistent and continue to explain to him that it doesn't matter if he has to break through walls, doors, or whatever, as long as he gets them. Since he still seems unsure, I promise to protect him no matter what he has to do.

He stares at me, his eyes wide, hope visible in their shimmer. "Are you sure?" he asks uncertainly. "I could hurt people, and even if I don't, it will be costly."

I step in front of him and put a hand on his shoulders. "Do what you have to do. These noodles need some real training for once in their pathetic little lives."

Without another word, he runs off with a big, goofy grin on his otherwise neutral face. He leaves me sighing, hoping that letting him free wouldn't cause too many problems.

I won't waste the time waiting for him, though. When I see one of the fallen trying to get up, I ram the end of my staff into his stomach and pin him down there. 

"All those lying here are eliminated and will, therefore, sit out this training for their terrible performance!" They're not happy, but it's not my fault they couldn't keep up with a simple attack. "If this school would run to my standards, you would all have been expelled by now, but fortunately for you and future misfortune, that's not the case."

The atmosphere becomes icy cold. Maybe they understood my words too quickly, or their heads are as empty as Vinok's when he sits in a class that has nothing to do with fighting. Whatever the case, I can't leave them like this.

"I'm kind," I announce loudly, receiving many scoffs. "I'm going to attack those still standing further, and if you flinch or crumble, you're out too."

Without further hesitation, I take the staff with both hands and twirl it around to build up speed, only to suddenly let it fly with my left hand—a loud thunder sounds, followed by a dull thud. I stare down at Brandon in disappointment. "You're supposed to be a defender; why does a hit with this staff bring you to your knees?"

When he doesn't give me the answer I want, I turn away from him, but not before throwing one final "Fuck you." As I turn around, I smack the back of his head with the other end of the stick. It takes all my strength not to grin as I hear him fall into the dirt where he and the other two belong.

But now my gaze is focused solely on Riven, and he can sense it too, or I believe so, as I see his larynx twitching nervously up and down. Still, I somehow manage to suppress the wide grin that is desperately trying to form on my lips.

Quickly and without warning, I sweep at him, only for Riven to elegantly jump over the staff. "Good," I couldn't help but praise him. He turns to me, obviously wanting to say something. But I only smile at him, banking on his inferiority complex, knowing better than most that he feels this way about the other two because of his low social status. I've learned through rumors, confirmed by the staff, that Riven is a scholarship student since he's an orphan.

Once he's off guard, I sweep at him again. He can barely jump over it again, though not as cleanly as before. Before he can fall, however, I swing the staff further and slam it into his left side, only to quickly ram it into the ground, nearly impaling Riven. Secured in the ground, I bend the staff to the other side and let it go. With an ugly crack, it hits his right side, sending him flying away. But that's still not enough for me. I pull the staff out of the ground, hurl it into the sky, and let it crash onto his stomach. A slight tremor runs through the ground as the force behind the final blow hurls him into the ground, even breaking some of the stone slabs.

"You're the lone wolf on a team, a dual wielder, usually with two daggers, never seen in the front row. Your only jobs are surprise attacks and maybe as a defender in the back row, but you have to be able to protect yourself against anything because there will never be anyone there to support you."

Even though Riven is writhing on the ground, obviously in pain, I don't care. I'd rather break every single bone in them than see their lifeless bodies strewn across the battlefield, only to have them join the bands of my soldiers that haunt me in my nightly terrors.

“Nobody could withstand these attacks!” an unknown voice suddenly calls out. Unable to control myself any longer, I roll my eyes.

Without any explanation, I activate my aura. Although it is weakened since it is no longer in my body, the glow of my ring shows me its activated state. I only hear a startled intake of breath behind me as I am already standing behind Callisto without anyone seeing; even the teacher looks surprised as I pass him. Without warning or any sign, I attack Callisto from behind, not holding back. The silence grows louder as the center of the staff collides with the backs of his knees. It takes a full second before anything happens. A cracking sound echoes, followed by a wave of pure energy that unbalances those trying to get back up. But something that surprises even me is the crumbling of the stone staff.

Callisto hasn't moved a centimeter. When our eyes meet, he even has the nerve to wink at me as if this is some kind of game. Maybe it is for him. But this feat is more than impressive. Even as I straighten myself out, I can only stare at the broken staff in my hand.

"Don't you think I deserve a reward?" The sudden proximity made the hairs on my neck stand up. Callisto's warm breath tickling the side of my ear makes me gasp loudly. The clearly heated look in his eyes only makes things worse. And when I turn to him, his lips are too close. My eyes widened of their own accord, my heart beating erratically. How I hate him; he is the bane of my existence. But his grin is more than anything I've ever wanted to see; I can already feel my strength fading.

Luckily, Daniels, screaming from far away, pulls me out before that demon can steal a kiss from me. I come to my senses, and just before he can do something that would change our friendship forever, I put my hand on his face, quickly shoving him away and pulling all of my strength into my legs to step away from him. Even after this rejection, he just chuckles darkly, licking his lips and clearly enjoying the chase more than he should.

I feel his lustful gaze on me as I move toward Daniel, who is screaming like a madman. His hands are full of metal weapons, but guards are chasing him, specialized men trained to protect the academy's students until they graduate. Daniel hides behind me as soon as he reaches me, breathing heavily and simultaneously giggling like a child caught with its hand in a cookie jar. I really have a good knack for choosing my friends.

The guards try to get past me, but with a wave of my hand and a single short sentence, I summon stone walls around them, preventing them from getting anywhere near Daniel. As the guards grow angry, I grin one-sidedly and hold up a hand.

"How much will it cost?" The guards look at each other in astonishment but say nothing. "If he tore down walls, I will take care of it myself; if he damaged anything else, I will pay for him since he stole these old weapons on my behalf."

Suddenly, the guards drop their weapons. They are visibly unsure, and I even see a hint of fear in their eyes. I offer them to fight me if that is not enough for them because I won't hand Daniel over to them. They quickly refuse, deactivate their weapons, and return them to their belts. With another wave of my hand, I drop the walls. The two guards thank me quietly and quickly walk away without looking back.

I shake my head as I watch them go, and before I know it, I'm laughing. "I'm sorry, I was a little rough when I got those." Still shaking my head, I put a hand on his shoulder, telling him not to do that again but to be more careful next time, as I won't be there to protect him every time.

Daniel swore with two raised fingers on his name and our friendship that he would be more careful in the future. But the glint in his eyes doesn't really give me hope; I swear he's somehow crossing his fingers even if I can't see it. But I'm sure, as he's been friends with Vinok for a long time, they've adopted each other's absolute worst traits.

Despite my beliefs, I ignore them and help Daniel get each of them a weapon. Although I told them they would be banned from training, after seeing their abysmal skills, I thought twice and forced them to train anyway.

"Okay, guys, that's it for today!" I announce when the sun is much higher in the sky. All three of my idiots have helped me train these pathetic newbies, just like I've been training them for months. Vinok is a little slow, while Daniel is a natural, and Callisto, on the other hand, was already pretty well-trained before we started. Still, I was able to help him get better, even though he will probably never be able to beat me.

The second I announce the end, everyone, including Vinok, falls to the ground. Exhaustion is clearly visible on their faces. Even Daniel is sweating profusely, so only Callisto and I are dry and still full of energy.

Soon, I feel an arm around me, a large hand resting on my left pec, groping it leisurely in public. However, I let Callisto do as he pleases because he honestly deserves it. "I still want that kiss."

A shiver runs down my spine as his breath surprises me once again. Why do I always end up with perverts? Though admittedly, Callisto is much worse than him.

I slowly feel myself sinking into his warm body. As I start to feel comfortable, my best friend's voice suddenly tears me away from the soothing scent of the guy behind me. I open my eyes and see him in the distance, in the same doorway Daniel ran out of. Smiling, I prepare to go to him, even though we haven't spoken to each other once since we met at school. But just as I'm about to free myself, my body freezes.

“That voice,” I scream in my head, “That can’t be!”

My body freezes as I see from the inside of the door a certain skin I know all too well, having explored it hundreds of thousands of times. I kissed every inch of it and sometimes even licked it, as someone in love and lust would do with their partner. I see his hair glistening in the sun. The shock that froze me turns to disbelief, just long enough to spin in the other direction until I almost look into the teacher's face.

"What's wrong?" The voice that would normally calm me down and free me from my nightmares couldn't. It only reminded me of the pain I had felt so long ago, but Callisto wouldn't let me fall into this pit again, I'm sure of it. He grips me tighter and pulls me closer until my head rests against his chest. "Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

But then my best friend's joyful voice calls me, promising me a surprise. I watch as Callisto's eyes jump to him, for him to grimace and open his mouth lightly. "He's beautiful," he whispers.

I freeze again. It's the same reaction he always got. But he's dead; I'm not just sure of it; I know it. I saw his dead body! With a body mutilated like his, he could never come back from the dead, at least not as he once was. Even if he were real, he wouldn't be him anymore.

Barely able to grab his shirt, which thankfully quickly draws his attention to me. No one before could look away from him so easily. "I can't move," I whisper, about to collapse in front of everyone.

“I can help you walk if you want,” Callisto offers, but I know I can’t do that right now.

"Please," I whisper again, choking on the tears welling up in my eyes. "Just get me out of here."

Without thinking, Callisto leans down a little, one arm already wrapped around my back, but his other arm quickly slides under my knees and lifts me off the ground like the knight in shining armor he has been to me for so long. Despite his arrogant, smug attitude, my feelings always seem the most important to him. I truly can't deny it anymore. I let my butterflies run wild while Callisto carries me away from there.

[Masterlist]

[salads-and-bolts]

Borusara Week 2024

Sarada’s Day | Hokage | Rebel

It's the last day! And finally time for a one shot I'm decently proud of x) Post Time-skip in cannon, fluffy, and a little hint of angst.

It had been three weeks since he left on that stupid “atonement mission,” and three weeks since Sarada felt fully focused at work. It was the last day of March, her birthday, and she couldn’t even take time off to celebrate.

Documents towered to her shoulder in a stack least 200 pages high, waiting for a signature. A higher stack of at least 300 pages high waited for a stamp. Three important meetings needed to be arranged. There were 30 new documents to review. It all had to be done before the end of the day. She could get it all done without a problem if she could organize her schedule and just. Focus.

In hidden grass village, there is a food shortage and a report of bandits stealing frequently. Konoha's assistance is requested.

Stamp. Sign. To a pile on her left on the floor.

D rank mission completed by team 32. Lost ca...

Capybara? Rubbing her eyes still didn't produce clear results. And that was when she realized... It was because her eyes were wet with tears. Her head throbbed and pounded, her stomach cramped and ached... She had to do her work. She had to. But as tears dripped down her cheeks and onto her desk, all she could think was... She just wanted to see him.

Whenever he noticed a large stack of papers on her desk, he'd stand behind her chair and rub her shoulders. Whenever she was too overwhelmed to handle things and got snappy and stressed, he'd walk behind her desk until she caved. She'd curl into the small space at his feet, hide from all her unwanted visitors, lean her head in his lap while he played with her hair. Let him stamp things that needed to be stamped. Was that a fair thing to do as Hokage? No. But she trusted him to do it because he was Boruto. And because a mere five to ten minutes was all she needed to feel human again.

Where was he? When was he coming back?

Thinking about it every day made her heart do that stupid annoying thing where it raced too fast for far too long, spreading numbness all the way down to her fingertips. Her vision blurred. The pen fell from her hands as she held her head to get a grip.

She didn't want to think of Boruto as the type of person to avoid her out of embarrassment, but the possibility did cross her mind and linger there for longer than she would've liked for it to. She shouldn’t have hugged him goodbye. He shouldn’t have kissed her forehead.

She was Hokage, and that meant she didn’t have time for him in the way that they both wished they did. That’s why she didn’t advance their relationship any further. That’s why she always held back.

She took a deep breath in and took her eyes off of the door, gritting her stomach to bear with the pain, trying to fix her migraine with medical ninjutsu. Come on Sarada. Focus. Focus... Focus!

After grabbing a clear file off of the top of the stack, her computer screen went black. And just before she could move the mouse, she caught a glimpse of her reflection. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes sunken in, glasses slightly crooked on her face. Perhaps that was what Shikadai hesitated to say. She looked like a hot mess, minus the hot.

The oversized hokage hat could fix that. Her hair, her eyes, all of it. She could just hide. And then, on top of concealing her appearance, she wouldn't have to worry about what reaction her idiotic hormone ridden brain would have to seeing him if he did happen to show up.

Just as she set her hat on her head, she noticed.

There was a clear glass vase of red roses on her desk that hadn't been there seconds before, and there were only two people that could flicker in and out of her office without her noticing. Neither of them were there, not on the ceiling, not under her desk, not behind any of the stacks of paper or even just outside the window. The fresh floral scent chose that particular moment to enter her nose... And the throbbing in her head grew worse with the pounding of her heart.

Calm down. It's your birthday. Maybe he just came back to give you flowers for your birthday...

And then. There was a box of chocolates sitting on top of the clear file she'd placed there moments ago. How was he doing this completely soundlessly?! This was not fair.

The crocodile tears stinging her eyes were also not fair.

Sarada picked up the box and inspected it hoping to find some sort of note, only to notice... There was a silver ring on the fourth finger of her left hand?! She abruptly dropped the box and fanned out her fingers, staring, touching it to make sure it was real. It was very real. And cold, and round, and smooth, and imbedded with tiny diamonds that ran in a spiral around the metal.

"Yo."

Sarada's entire body was so tense that she banged her knees on her desk out of startlement. "Idiot! What is... What did... How is..."

He really owed her an explanation for this, but she wasn't sure whether to yell at him, pull him down by the loose collar of his white t-shirt and force him into a kiss whether he wanted one or not, feelings be darned, or sob harder because this was all some cruel prank.

She hid her face. She had to. She was really crying now, curse her stupid emotions. Fat tears dripped over her cheeks, the metal of the ring heating as she tensed her hands.

"Sorry it took me so long," he said sheepishly. "Himawari wouldn't let me go until I could do it all without making any noise..."

Sarada tried to stop her quivering by telling herself to relax, but the built-up stress in her body decided that now would be a good time to escape, and her muscle system blatantly refused to shut down.

"...You okay?"

"Of course I'm not okay!" Her swollen throat had a lump the size of the Land of Fire. Her voice sounded like a sad cross between an underwater donkey and an angry sheep. The trembling was doing nothing for her headache or her cramps, and every second she spent in this confusing situation was another second lost in completing her work. "...Idiot! Stupid! Dummy! What... What even is this?"

- Read the rest on Wattpad and Ao3!

[kissorkill16]

Just An Idiot: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Sometimes, you just feel like an idiot for wanting a pretty girl.

Enzo tried not to squirm as his sister pressed the disinfectant pad on his chest.

"You're a real idiot for doing that.", said Maritza. Enzo rolled his eyes and gently pushed his sister, "Mari, please. This is punishment enough.", he said, gesturing to his stab wound.

"Whatever, man."

Maritza grabbed the bandages from the table and began wrapping them around Enzo's chest.

"I mean it, though.", she said. "You knew it was risky, and you still went out there anyway. And for what? For some girl who doesn't even like you like that?"

At that point, Enzo felt something inside him just snap. He stood up despite the pain, and he shoved his sister to the floor.

"What the hell is your problem?!", he yelled at her. "You constantly mock me, tease me, throw things at me and you act like you're embarrassed to call me your brother, even in public. Trinity makes me happy, and you think she's just using me for her own gain, but you're wrong!"

"And how do you know that?!", Maritza yelled back at her brother.

"Because she's given me reasons to trust her!", said Enzo, "While she's been a totally awesome friend to me, you've been nothing but a total bitch!"

Maritza stood up, "I'm not taking it back. You're an idiot for wanting someone just because they're pretty.", she said. "I know what Trinity is really like, because I'm not blinded by her pretty face."

Enzo felt himself ball his hands into fists, "And I'm the idiot here? Just because I want to trust someone and help them out when they need me?", he said. "Yes, I love Trinity because she's pretty, but I know she's more than that. She's kind, she's smart, she's brave, and she's a fantastic leader."

He bent down to meet Maritza's level.

"And if she's really using me, I'd prefer it over you being a total asshole to me 24/7 any day of the fucking week."

Maritza's eyes widened. She's never heard her brother swear before. At least not in English. When he did, he only swore in Spanish, never in English. That's how she knew that Enzo was really angry.

Then she saw Enzo curl up and his eyes fill with tears.

"Maybe I am an idiot.", he said, "We went into the woods together, and when I screamed, she didn't even come to save me. You did.", he wiped his face as tears started to run down his cheeks. "Maybe Trinity isn't the girl I fell in love with anymore, maybe I was an idiot for just falling for her pretty face."

Maritza didn't like seeing her brother cry. She sat down next to him and gave him a side hug, "Enzo, I know you feel stupid, and I'm gonna admit something."

Enzo looked over to his sister.

"As I got to know Trinity, I kinda fell in love with her too."

She looked away from her brother's surprised face, "But ever since she found that coin, she's become more stubborn, and I know she's probably under a lot of stress, but..."

Maritza took Enzo's hand and held it in hers.

"But you almost died tonight, and if I hadn't known about this, Crowface would've fucking killed you. She knew you'd come with her because you were the only one willing to help her, and she used that to her advantage. That's not the Trinity either of us fell in love with.", said Maritza, "I guess we're both idiots."

Enzo looked at his shoes, and Maritza gently squeezed his hand.

"But we can be idiots together, but maybe we can stop following the pretty girl."

Enzo smiled warmly at his sister, and Maritza gently wrapped her arms around her brother, careful not to put too much pressure on the stab wound.

[kivaember]

Not sure if you're still taking prompts, but maybe something about how Walter would feel after "Intercept the Redguns"?

i'm always taking prompts! i may not get round to them quickly, but i'll always endeavour to write something for them! but anyways yes, it's some angst time... hrngh

"...our work here is done. Return to the garage, 621."

Walter barely paid attention to his Hound's acknowledgement flashing across his screen. He muted his mic and leaned back in his seat, hearing it creak loudly from his shifting weight, and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling.

Unlike their garage back in Belius, the forward garage near Watchpoint Alpha was just a hastily repurposed old hangar that had a tiny concrete room stashed in the very corner of it. It was frigidly cold, even when Walter was surrounded by four portable heaters aimed directly at his rickety desk, and there was a large crack that ran from one corner of the room to the other across the ceiling.

Someone fifty years ago had tried to paint it over, but time and the relentless winter that gripped the ice fields had forced the paint to flex and warp, exposing the gaping crack for the dangerous structural flaw that it was. There wasn't anything above the ceiling, at least. It wasn't supporting any part of the hangar's metal frame, and there weren't any piping or machinery parts resting across it. If it caved in, it'd be due to its own weight, and if it held for fifty years, it could hold for the few days Walter needed to see the rest of this mission through.

A few days.

Michigan would've died in a few days anyway, Walter told himself. In a few days, his Hound would find the Coral Convergence, painting a giant target on where he and Carla needed to point the Xylem for the next stage of their plan. It was crude, maybe, but the Xylem was a colony unto itself. Even if the Convergence was mildly dispersed in an underground pocket, the explosive force of the Xylem's Coral reactors detonating on impact would cause a catastrophic chain reaction.

Walter had vague memories, of his father explaining the startling stability yet votility of Coral. It acted a little like flour, really. In open air, a spark did nothing. In condensed environments, where the particles were forced to pack tighter than their nature wanted, then a spark could cause a catastrophic chain reaction: the Xylem would be the spark for that chain reaction.

Michigan wouldn't have survived that, if he lived past this day. Knowing that idiot, he would've been fistfighting Snail on top of the Convergence itself, vying for control even as a literal colony drop was aimed right for him. Either way, now or then, Michigan would've gone down fighting - this way was probably more satisfying for him, though.

Died of a bad fall. Even with his AC exploding around him, Michigan trotted out a bad joke.

Walter made a quiet, frustrated noise, rubbing a hand over his face as he squashed down that- feeling swelling up behind his diaphragm like an immovable object. It wasn't grief, because Walter had stepped onto this planet knowing one way or another Michigan would die due to him. Michigan had been nothing more than an asset or an obstacle, depending on who was paying his Hound to point his gun where, and Walter had emotionally prepped himself for this eventuality.

What they had on Ganymede... that was the past. It didn't exist anymore. That Walter hadn't even been real, a fake fantasy while he selfishly put off his mission for a few years. It was better Michigan died now, actually. Better for Michigan to go out cracking a stupid joke in a blaze of pointless glory, oblivious to the fact that his old friend had been planning his death just a few days later anyways.

He'd always been a fool.

(Michigan? Walter? Both?)

A blinking light on his screen drew his attention, and Walter reluctantly looked to see what his Hound had sent. He'd half-expected 621 to report some remnants ambushing him and requesting direction, but instead-

"Should I have picked the other job?"

Walter stared at those words for a long moment, baffled on where the question was coming from, before he realised that 621 was more perceptive than he'd initially thought.

"...one way another, Michigan would've met his end here," Walter said. By V.IV Rusty, or by the Second Fires, it didn't matter. "There's no point dwelling on it. Our mission comes first, anyways."

"But wasn't he your friend?"

"No." Walter's voice was harsh. "Business associate. That's it."

His Hound didn't say anything else, and Walter let the conversation - short as it was - die there. He must be slipping, if a brain fried merc like 621 could pick up on his complicated feelings over Michigan. Walter always slipped whenever that idiot was concerned though. Michigan had a way of getting under his skin.

not anymore, a traitorous voice whispered in the back of his mind. Walter ruthlessly crushed it.

It didn't matter.

It won't matter.

Not in a few days. Just a few days...

...and nothing else will matter to him, ever again.

[jamiesfootball]

Another piece of the leverage au I'm not fucking writing, damnit.

Under the cut for violence and Leverage-esque shenanigans:

At the first kick to the solar plexus, a shocked noise spilled out of Jamie's mouth. He hadn't been prepared.

"You don't fucking listen," Roy growled, winding his leg back for another kick. "What did I say? What did I fucking tell you when we first started?"

Jamie was ready for the second kick -- got his arms up in front of him just in time to intercept Roy's boot. He grunted, a sound too high and reedy to his own ears, and he tried to push aside the reflexive embarrassment at how loud it was, echoing off the walls as Bartlett and his cronies laughed and laughed.

On the third kick, he acted. He caught Roy's boot, wrapping his shivering body around it while the other man cursed. Roy kicked again, and Jamie's freezing hands scrambled for purchase against the leather, his nails digging into the collar.

"Come on," Roy scoffed under his breath, the same way he had when Jamie had held them up at the elevator. He didn't need to look up to know Roy was shaking his head.

Jamie bit his lip against the sudden, fierce wave of emotion building up in his chest.

His grip slackened, and Roy tugged his foot away with a violent grunt. He spat at the ground, missing Jamie by centimeters.

Bartlett tittered. His goons spread easily for Roy, welcoming him into the pack as the hitter rejoined their group. One of them fetched him a beer.

"Feel better then, Royo?"

Jamie closed his eyes; he didn't need to see this. His arms pressed protectively against his stomach. Hopefully they'd forget he was there.

"You don't know the half of it," Roy said, his rough timber carrying easily through the barren warehouse. A bottle fizzed open, followed by an audibly slurpy gulp and a relieved sigh. "The amount of headache's that prick's given me -- you wouldn't believe."

"No respect for their betters, these young ones." There was the tap of glass on glass- a toast. "Well, I've got good news for you. When we're done here, I plan to make a couple phone calls. You ain't the only one with a bone to pick with that little upstart. I know a few names who'd pay good money just to take a turn at him the way you did."

A beat of silence.

"Really?" Roy's voice stayed carefully neutrally, but even an idiot could hear that he was interested.

"What'd I tell you lads? Do I know this man or what?" Bartlett bragged. His men agreed, making all the appropriate noises for a goon chorus.

"So I do all the hard work, and you cash the check?"

Just as easily as flipping off a light, a threatening quiet smothered the warehouse.

Bartlett, the idiot, tried to backtrack fast. "Course I'd cut you in! A finder's fee. Hell, you could watch, if you're into that."

Another beat of silence, and then a low, dark chuckle that sent the hairs on the back of Jamie's neck to standing.

"You know me, don't you?" Roy remarked, sounding like a lion before the pounce. "Relax, Bartlett, I already got what I came for. You have your men wire over a cut of the haul, and that'll be the end of our business. The sooner I see the back of this place, the better."

Bartlett snapped at one of his men to initiate the wire. Roy rattled off the numbers.

When they were done, Bartlett laughed. "Roy Kent. A man of reason."

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it?"

"Yes it does."

Another clink of glasses echoed cheerily in the warehouse. Then-

"Woah, take it easy there, Kent. No need to rush when there's still the cleanup to..."

Bartlett trailed off and the goon chorus piped down. In the shivering silence, the sound of someone chugging a beer echoed disturbingly loud, like some sort of criminal underworld ASMR.

Jamie focused on not tensing his body; he didn't want to draw their attention.

Finally, smacking lips. A content sight. "Thanks for the beer, Bartlett. Would've been a shame for it to go to waste."

"What--"

At the sound of a glass smashing over someone's head, Jamie flexed his grip on the knife he'd snatched out of Roy's boot and sprung to his feet.

Roy had told him to wait for his cue, after all -- and it was his time to shine.

The little prick wouldn't stop grinning.

Roy ignored him. He dumped goon number five into the stolen ambulance.

"Check their pockets. If they've got anything that looks like a burner, Beard wants it back. We've got to make sure to wipe any traces of contact they might've had with Keeley--"

"You like me," Jamie sing-songed.

"It was a bit," Roy said through gritted teeth. "Hand me the body."

Jamie hauled over the unconscious man -- easily twice his size -- like it was nothing. The joys of youth.

With five other deadweights already filling up the vehicle, it was awkward angle to fit in a sixth. Jamie stumbled a bit, and Roy braced him upright. Together they maneuvered the body into the van.

"You can just admit it, you know. I won't ruin your reputation by telling everyone that Roy Kent's a softy."

Prick.

Jamie's usually styled pompadour was a flat mess from the fall in the Thames, and rolling around on the floor of an abandoned warehouse had lint-rolled a questionable layer of gunk onto his stylish clothes. He looked like a twit, leaning against the door of the ambulance while Roy did all the work tying the feet together.

Prick.

With his hair dripping into his eyes and a look of open fascination on his face, he looked like a kid who'd run through a sprinkler. There was far too much delight there for someone who'd been roughed up by a wannabe gangster. Fuck, and they still needed to check his ribs.

"He made us the second we walked in the door," Roy tried to explain again. "I needed to get him to trust me, to make him think I'd switched sides--"

"By making him think you kicked like an octogenarian?" quipped Jamie. "You barely made contact. If I'd been acting any harder, Rebecca would be out a job."

"I can kick you harder next time," Roy bit out, but even he could feel how toothless the words sat in his mouth.

"Sure, Grandad." Jamie beamed, smug and practically bouncing on his toes. "I'd like to see you try."

If Roy had less to deal with on his mind, he might worry about how sure Jamie seemed by the notion Roy wouldn't hit him.

"It wasn't a life or death situation. I knew we'd make it out."

Sure, Bartlett and his men had been armed, but Roy had dealt with worse. If it had been life or death, it'd be different. Roy would do whatever he needed to in those circumstances.

He would.

"You keep telling yourself that, mate."

[madpencil]

Febuwhump 2024

Day 2: Solitary Confinement

Words: 597

Characters: Crosshair, other mentioned clones (The Bad Batch)

Description: Crosshair got put in solitary confinement on Tantiss. It goes about as well as you could guess.

At the least the walls weren't bleach white like Kamino. Crosshair thinks they would've hurt his eyes if they were. Instead, the walls were a bleak grey. The same bleak grey he'd seen everywhere around this dreadful place.

However, unlike everywhere else, Crosshair was truly alone here.

Solitary confinement. He had landed himself in solitary confinement. It wasn't a long, complicated story really. He had tried to figure out where exactly they held Omega. She had told him a general area during a vent visit, but hadn't been able to find her before being caught. If only there was a vent down here she could climb through.

It was lonely, to say the least. He slouched with his legs over the end of a metal cot. At least Cross could deny his loneliness when there were people around. Using his own logic, it was hard to be lonely with useless chatter around him it was flawed logic and he knew it, but it helped a little. With a lack of people there was no useless chatter. There was nothing to distract himself with so he could hide from his loneliness. There was nowhere to hide from anything really.

No sound except for his own breathing. Nothing but four cold walls, a cold metal cot, and a cold ex-imperial. He started to figit with his hands, the slight shake of them becoming apparent. How could he shoot if his hands shook? He was a sniper, without steady hands he was useless.

He shouldn't let his mind wander. If he did he'd loose it in here. Abruptly, Crosshair stood up and began to pace. They hadn't told him how long he'd be in for.

"One, two, three, four..." The man started to count. To him it was idiotic, but it was also the only way he could think of keeping his mind from wandering. He kept pacing throughout the small room, counting aloud to himself.

"Forty-six, forty-seven , forty-eight..." Plan forty-seven was a plan Crosshair and Hunter had created. It's purpose was to surround a group and either capture or eliminate them. It didn't matter now, did it? Keep counting.

"Eighty, eighty-one, eighty-two..." Eighty-two was "the shockwave." It was one of Wrecker's personal favorites.

"Eighty-seven, eighty-eight..." He started to slow and shake at eighty-eight. The seeker. The last plan he called on their old comm channel. Whatever. It's fine.

"Ninety-eight-" The man didn't want to say it. Why had he decided to count?

"Nine... nighty-nine..." Plan ninety-nine. A plan involving the member who called it to sacrifice themselves for the good of their brothers. The plan that Tech had carried out. The one that killed him.

"One.. one.. oh whatever! What's the point?!" Crosshair stopped in the middle of the room with a huff. He tried to breathe.

Tech was dead, Mayday was dead, both Omega and him were trapped, and he had no idea if anyone was coming for them. There was nowhere to hide from this. No war, no missions, no useless chatter, and no one could save him from finally confronting the truth. He wasn't ready.

Cross lowered to the floor gently. His breath catching in his throat as the beginning of tears stung his eyes. Soft sobs panged off the walls of the room. He brought a knee up and slid to the closest wall. Once upon a time the cool metal on his back would've brought a sense of comfort, but there was no comfort here. There was only a prison with four grey walls, a metal cot, and a brother with an aching heart

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@febuwhump

[elysianstars]

While we only see a few dragonstones in Engage, the differences between those which do appear are significant, I think, and there's some nice symbolism to dig into. And hey, it's been a whole five minutes since I last talked about Fell Dragons.

Alear's dragonstone, the one held by Veyle. It's chipped and battered-looking, almost broken, because that's the state Alear has been reduced to. Something that's seen far too many battles already (once the stone is in Veyle's care, it's kept wrapped in a cloth for safekeeping, so I'm fairly sure it was damaged before it came to her, not afterwards). A crimson teardrop shape, with the crest of Gradlon branded into it. With Veyle it's hidden, since Alear doesn't need to use it anymore; it's a private symbol of reassurance for her. It could also be dangerous if she let other people see it, and they recognised it was a mark of connection to a Fell Dragon. That's what killed her mother, after all. But she couldn't bring herself to part with it, despite that. Alear kept the gesture a secret from Sombron, who would definitely have disapproved, since Alear was just a tool to him, and why make a tool less useful?

Nel's dragonstone, the one held by Nil and then Rafal. It's pristine and unchipped, because although Nel is as much of a warrior as Alear, she handed her stone to a sibling much earlier. She's always tried to protect her brothers from the harshest battles, and its condition reflects that. It's also crimson, branded with Gradlon's crest, and shaped with one flat side to fit on Nil/Rafal's chest. Unlike Veyle, he keeps the stone on prominent display. Possibly for practicality's sake, so Nel can continue accessing it, but it's also a warning to the siblings or anyone else who might want to hurt him – mess with this one, and you'll have a powerful transformed dragon to answer to. It provides a different, less passive type of reassurance than Veyle's gifted stone, to fit their circumstances, but both times it was a gesture of love. Xenologue Sombron obviously knew what Nel did, and let her get away with it...but then later used it as a catalyst for his curse, to make her intentions backfire horribly.

Rafal's and Nel's post-Xenologue dragonstones, the fragments of the Great Fell stone. The standard versions are red, but others are black, white, blue or green – I'm not sure if that means anything, or if it's just a game mechanic so you can easily see what type a unit is equipped with. But it's interesting they don't have to be red, since you'd expect colours like blue and white to be restricted to Divine Dragons, wouldn't you? They're asymmetrical, and wrapped with golden wire. That could be to show they were broken from a larger piece (and reminding us the twins are 'two halves of a whole'), and/or the wire could be to demonstrate how the original evil of the stone is sealed. These stones don't appear to contain Gradlon's crest. Because when Nel and Rafal transform now, it's not to do Sombron's bidding or wage war on his behalf, but for a cause of their own choice.

Also. I wonder what idiot supplied Sombron with a new dragonstone after his revival (since it tracks that his original would have shattered, when Alear killed him first time around). Wonder if it was Hyacinth. Wouldn't that be ironic. If you hadn't given him that thing, it would've been a lot harder for him to DEVOUR YOU IN A SINGLE BITE. The king of playing stupid games and winning stupid prizes. ...But anyway I think it's a shame we never got to see Sombron's or Lumera's stones, it'd be interesting to compare them to the others.

[atarathegreat]

Present mic fic?

Of course! Present Mic is one of my favorites so I absolutely don't mind doing one for him!

I've also got a whole story that I had written for Present Mic, if that's something anyone is interested in?

Present Mic/Hizashi Yamada

Ridiculous, getting stood up by some over-the-top hero! Who did I think I was? I'm not some hot actress that could just pull any man she wanted, let alone some decent-looking lady that could get an equally decent-looking man. Hell, I was a disheveled office worker that just so happened to be the closest hostage to the villain trying to get...well shit what was he trying to get? Crunched numbers on the debt my boss was in? Maybe the papers I had stuffed in the back file cabinet that proved my boss was cheating on his wife? Fuck, maybe he wanted the numbers on how many clients have now been fucked over by the company.

God, I should've left that hellhole earlier. I wouldn't have ended up in the position to get stood up by the same damn hero that asked me out. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, after all, why would a hero want to go out with some stupid civilian? Idiot, I should've thought it through before actually showing up that day.

"Hey, this seat taken?" A nonchalant voice asked from above my head, a blonde standing with donuts and coffee in hand, "I know this ain't a coffee shop, but I figured you could use a cappuccino. You look rough." I scoffed but accepted the drink, I was proud but not proud enough, "Rough is putting it lightly, actually. I look like shit and haven't brushed my hair in weeks." The man laughed, taking the seat across from me and sliding a donut to me. It was a lame pickup line on his part, but he did secure a seat at my table, and that was enough to be dubbed successful. "So, can I ask why a roughed-up businesswoman is sitting all alone in the middle of a restaurant? Hopefully not getting stood up by some lame ass?" He chuckled, "Your date popped in a few minutes before you did, dipped with another woman." I laughed, seemingly catching the guy off guard in my mania, "And you know what? I'm not even shocked! I was held hostage for a few minutes and tossed across the whole floor, why could I handle that and not handle being stood up?"

Without realizing it I had started to cry. My boss was a shitty human and I'd been working there for years and then a villain breaks in wanting heavens knows what, I guess it really is the lightest straws that break the camel's back.

"Oh! I didn't mean to upset you, miss. I was actually hoping to get you out of here, maybe go see a movie to make up for it? My name's Hizashi Yamada," The man was a fast talker, genuine in his words but stupid in tongue, "I guess this is the worst timing but I just thought you were really beautiful and didn't see the harm in shooting my shot." His candy-apple eyes were huge with worry, amplified only by the eccentric way he was leaning over the table to offer me a napkin. I thanked him, saying maybe another time would be more appropriate, and swapped numbers with him. I barely had time to leave the restaurant when he texted, a simple "I hope tomorrow is better for you." that would've made me cry if I wasn't already. Hizashi smiled as I waved to him through the window, a darker-haired male rolling his eyes at him.

With the whole rest of the day at my disposal, I decided it was wisest to find another place of work. By midday, I'd put in three applications to two different coffee shops and a lower-ranking hero's agency. It was exciting, like moving to another country and restarting from nothing. Or, basically nothing since I was paid dirt and didn't even have a proper mattress, and trust me when I say that sleeping on an air mattress did horrible things to the spine. But my feet skipped all the way home, in the elevator, and up to my apartment door. I hadn't been that happy since I had actually moved countries and started with nothing, I even pulled out the oldest bottle of wine I had. My neighbor had gifted it to me when I moved in, I barely understood Japanese at that point and only grasped at "Welcome, neighbors here sweet, sleep easy." And it was still entirely possible I heard him wrong because, well, I'm incompetent and extremely non-fluent. My parents and siblings would often send letters, but I rarely replied to them, mostly because I didn't have the money to be able to send them overseas. It upset them, rightfully so, but they understood that things were hard enough without them getting angry and berating me for having a shit job with a shit boss.

I pulled up my phone and texted the number Hizashi gave me, telling him that whenever he was available I would be more than happy to go somewhere with him and gave him a brief rundown of what my day held. He congratulated me, giving me an address and a date along with the dress code. I chose to wear some high-waisted jeans and a frumpy tank top, meeting him at what turned out to be a public park. A small wooden stage had been set up, a band setting up while other people hung decorations, Hizashi holding up a little girl so she could tie a cardboard cut out from the string lights. It was cute. "Hey, there you are!" He noticed me, walking over with the little girl still on his shoulder, "If you want, you can help us finish decorating. One of my classes is playing a huge gig tonight and I thought they were perfect for you to see." I nodded, picking up a nearby box of streamers, dropping it just as quickly. Not only had it just clicked that he was a teacher, but the streamers also had the UA logo on them. He was a teacher at a prestigious school, a hero school. He was a hero! "Eri, could you go help the others while I see what she and I can do over here?" Hizashi set the girl down and returned to me, picking up the box I dropped. "You're a hero?" I whispered, not sure what to think. On the one hand, he wasn't the one who ditched me, but on the other hand, most heroes were assholes. Did I want to risk getting embarrassed again? Now at an overly crowded park where tens more people can see me crying.

"Just stay for a little while, if I don't pay enough attention to you then you can leave and I'll lose your number." Hizashi sighed, picking up the box. It was his eyes, the way they conveyed each and every emotion of his as overtly as he was tall, that made me sigh and follow him to the stage. We each nailed the border up, a single nail every two feet to have the perfect rounding as the string fell, looping small fairy lights around it right after. The students that made up the band were rushing around to get everyone in the right outfits, they were adorable kids.

"Up we go!" Hizashi lifted me up to the tree branch, "This is where that All Might cutout is going." I wrapped the thicker string around the bark before tying it securely, though Hizashi didn't let me down from his shoulders. He walked around with me perched around his neck as though I wasn't even there, occasionally handing my things that belonged higher up. All the decorations were put up by the time the sun began to set, and by that point a whole crowd had gathered and the band was ready to play. And they were perfect in every aspect, from guitar to the girl singing. I grabbed Hizashi's hand and pulled him to the side so we had room to dance, "This song reminds me of one I heard when I first moved here." My date smiled, his teeth shining just as brightly as he was, "So it's a good date, then?" I nodded, resting my head easily on his arm, "Probably the best date I've ever been on. Sure as hell beats being ditched for some other guy to pick up."