#not even just in appearance but demeanor and attitude and the way presents himself just

[bistaxx]

I hope that, no matter how the elections go, Elq sticks around and get's to BE the one of the horrors 💗~!

[wing-ed-thing]

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Chapter X

Synopsis: The territory between the Uchiha and the Senju dwindles by the day. And in an era where social lines have been blurred, and new clan heads have been chosen, you're stuck between a scorned lover and a man who relentlessly pursues your hand in marriage. You don't have much time before you're forced to confront the sins of your past.

Word Count: 6.5k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead, including tags for choking. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Chapter I Previous Chapter Part X (Current Chapter)

Notes: I'M FINALLY THOUGH EDITING IS IT REALLY MY FAULT I'M A FAILURE?????

The negotiations would last several weeks, and leadership from all allied clans would gather in one place with the intention to form a united village. Just prior to all the impending formal political talks, the Uchiha and the Senju shared a ceremonial banquet following Hashirama’s speech. The show of friendship between him and Madara was meant to act as the first step to unity, and for how tense you had expected it to be, the night went over fairly well.

Most people stuck to their own kind, and you could understand their hesitation to make casual conversation with the very people they had just been at generational odds with only a few days prior. Not to mention that Madara wasn’t exactly adept at acting friendly, which did little to help matters in the face of visibly petrified members of the Senju. You had discretely nudged Madara’s shoulder. He could have afforded to present himself far less intimidatingly.

But it seemed that Hashirama’s zealous personality could break through even the coldest of attitudes, and you choked it up to his extroverted personality that put people at better ease.

You hardly left Madara’s side throughout the duration of the night, even as he made extensive chatter with Hashirama: all shop talk. For bitter, lifetime rivals, you couldn’t help but consider that they got along rather famously. And for the dichotomy in their personalities, Madara’s imposing gravity and Hashirama’s endless electricity balanced out surprisingly well from what you witnessed. 

They talked to each other like they’d known each other forever, and you couldn't recall a time you had ever seen Madara so at ease. 

To your surprise, Tobirama was also active, doing the rounds to answer questions and shake hands just as much as Hashirama. 

He seemed much more severe than you remembered him. His round eyes had become almost lidded and stern, and the expressiveness of his face had faded almost entirely. Any expression was replaced with a neutral line that resembled a frown more often than not. But despite his unfortunately standoffish demeanor, people still appeared to find him approachable, waving him over and standing with clear interest as they probed him with questions. And while Hashirama spun hope of the village's founding, Tobirama answered the logistical questions. 

“Several locations will be considered during negotiations,” you heard him tell a small group of concerned Senju. He had his arms crossed sternly over his chest. His voice was much deeper than when you last heard it about ten years prior. 

Tobirama appeared around you a few times throughout the night, standing a distance away with his attention occupied by various clan members. However, you couldn’t help but note how he kept his body turned ever so slightly, and you wondered if he eyed you out of his peripheral the way you kept him in yours. 

You, too, shifted your stance, following Madara closely around the hall for the few rounds he made. Madara wasn’t nearly as social as the Senju appeared to be— perhaps it was a cultural difference. Although it did occur to you that the Senju didn’t seem to know much about the truce at all.

While Madara and the rest of the council (the council you supposed you were now a part of due to your fibbing) held a village-wide, night-long meeting to hash out questions and concerns about joining up with the Senju, Hashirama appeared to have had no such discussion with his people. Instead, it seemed that the first formal discussions about this decision among the Senju were occurring here at the announcement banquet.

And while the Senju certainly had significant concerns and an even greater number of questions, they appeared relatively docile, taking Hashirama and Tobirama’s answers and words with great weight. No one but Hashirama and his charming personality could have pulled such a thing off, you considered.

The Uchiha were the first to trickle off, many of them leaving after an unspecified amount of time to return to the village in the crook of the southern shoulder. The fact that it was approaching dark wasn’t of concern, considering that the Uchiha as a whole tended to favor nighttime travel. 

The Senju stayed the longest, occupying the hall in astonishingly great numbers well into the night. They even outlasted you, Madara, and the Uchiha council, all of whom were beginning to drift away back to your temporary quarters on the neutral negotiation grounds. 

You stood at the far end of the hall near the exit as Madara bid a lengthy farewell to Hashirama, having been sucked into an excessively long bout of shop talk. Tobirama stood at the far end, leaning against a table. He hunched intently and nodded along to a fellow Senju clan member.

You wondered if his gaze followed your presence as easily as yours did him. You soon left with Madara. You had lengthy negotiations ahead of you.

***

You were grossly underprepared; that much was true. And perhaps you should have known as much when you saw how every other clan, even those already affiliated with the Uchiha, brought parcels upon parcels of paper into the meeting room. As a self-appointed member of the council, you carried nothing, nor did the rest of the council members who were chosen through battle. The idea of Madara having prepared documents didn’t even occur to you, nor should it have, considering that he, too, came empty-handed. 

“I would like to thank each of you for making the journey to join together in this place for these historic discussions,” Hashirama began, assuming leadership over the negotiations. “In the mere act of traveling all this way and bringing the openness of your mind, you are already changing the future for the better.”

Several clan heads from small clans as well as leadership from allied ones gathered around the table. Papers and quills sat neatly on the table everywhere but in front of the Uchiha. Members of the various councils and other assistants sat along the room's perimeter, some haphazardly pulling in a random assortment of chairs while others stood behind their respective leaders. 

Madara sat directly across from Hashirama, ignoring the other clan leaders' pointed glances toward Madara’s ignited sharingan eye. Your back touched the wall just a short distance behind him. The other Uchiha counselors took up great space with their chairs, and even with one or two sitting on the floor, the liberal space behind Madara was indeed occupied. 

“There are several topics to discuss on the docket, and while one is no less important than the other, I believe our first decision should be that of location.” Hashirama shifted a page in front of him before glancing back up at the table. “Does any clan pose a quarrel?”

“Is this perhaps too rash to begin with choosing land?” the head of the Fuma questioned. He sat forward, forearms crossed on the table as he stared directly ahead toward the Inuzuka clan head. “Setting boundaries for how our people are to behave should be of primary importance. From there, we can speak about the governmental structure.”

“I implore you to elaborate on what you speak,” Inuzuka spat, crinkling her nose in disgust. 

“The notion that we are to join together in unity is indeed pleasant, but I do hold concern for my people over the lack of self-control in some disingenuous natures gathered here.”

“This is rich from your tongue!” Inuzuka barked. “Your interest in policy-making is so transparent it is foul!”

“I am in agreement,” Hyūga interjected, already beginning to gather his things. His slender, opaque eyes narrowed at Fuma before glancing at Madara. “Negotiating with those who only know savagery appears fruitless indeed. Gaze upon Madara’s brazenly ignited sharingan eye! I call for expectations to be set!” Hyūga glanced around in search of support before fully turning toward the Uchiha. “Is not the presentation of the sharingan in opposition to bare eyes a show of violence in your culture? Is it not a declaration of battle?”

“This is spoken by an amoral backstabber!” Hagoromo growled. “Your allegiance falters in the wind! Were you not recently allied with the Uchiha before your betrayal at the first sign of conflict?”

”Enough, enough, my friends,” Hashirama attempted, but the quibbling continued. 

“He may set this hall ablaze any time he pleases! What if negotiations do not go his way?”

”All of us understand that you care not for clans which are not your own.” Fuma frowned. “Do us all a service and cease pretending you are remotely invested in unity.”

”As if you care for unity!”

Papers shifted across the table as intricately drafted documents were swept into piles. The cacophony of chatter only increased as voices melded together in petty dispute, and it was only when chairs began to shift back from the table that Madara’s hand slammed hard on the table.

”Silence!” Madara’s voice boomed, quickly standing with suddenness.

The sheer volume and dominance that Madara held in it caused all talk to cease, but it also caused clan heads and aids alike to stand, chakra networks flaring to life like a blazing wildfire. The word was curt and singular in its existence, but it only escalated the tension in the room as the backs of chairs slammed against the floor and kunai were drawn out of hidden holsters. The Uchiha council members shot up instantly, igniting sharingan as they stood at Madara’s defense.

He stood, hulking over his place at the negotiation table as the rest of the clan heads watched him where he stood, ready to strike with the most minuscule of sudden movements.

Hashirama sat at the opposite end of the table, his expression unreadable. Tobirama had instinctually stepped forward and stopped only by his brother's raised hand.

Madara continued to speak. His eyes still shone a glowing red.

 “You all think this a game? You would play with the lives of your people so? Hashirama and I do not put an end to centuries of generational bloodshed for it to be tarnished by disingenuous characters…” Madara challenged. He slowly straightened his back to stand at full height as he surveyed the leaders around the table. “I thought we all gathered because we have all been worn by gore and violence… However, for any who is pompous enough to find himself not fatigued enough, so much that he may disturb these negotiations at this place, I would be more than willing to offer a remedy—”

“Speak for yourself, Uchiha!”

“Enough.” Hashirama finally spoke again with far more sternness, and perhaps it was the grave tone— such a difference from his usual upbeat demeanor— that caused the room to stand still. You watched as he heaved a heavy sigh. You had never seen Hashirama frown before. “There will be no talks such as this. I implore everybody to sit. Yield your jutsu… and your weaponry.”

A pregnant pause occupied the room. And slowly, each clan head began to return to their seats one by one. The tension in the air remained, but Hashirama’s marinating words slowly breathed life back into the atmosphere. And to your surprise, Madara resumed his seat without protest. Only one was left standing.

”Hyūga…” Nara spoke from his seat. “I encourage you to sit.” He offered a shallow nod to the leader of the byakugan-bearing clan. Blank irises stared back at him. “Please, I would like for Hashirama to continue.”

The contempt in Hyūga’s eyes was palpable, and the scrunching of his nose was even more explicit. But even he, too, took his seat once more. 

Having gathered the room's attention, Nara yielded the floor to Hashirama, who appeared graver than you had ever seen him. His smile and cordial face had settled into a neutral if not stern, expression, and the atmosphere in the room sobered. 

“If anyone around this table is disinterested in moving forward with this alliance, you are free to leave. Your decisions will not be held against you or your people, and you will be allowed to retreat from this place safely.” Hashirama said. The room sat still. “But if you choose to stay, we all are to approach these negotiations— and one another— with respect and sincerity. Charged rhetoric will get us nowhere. Are we in agreement?” 

No one but Hashirama could have said such things and been taken with gravity. Even now, a heavy aura radiated from him, spreading across the room as clan leaders settled back into their seats. 

“It is true,” Hyūga reluctantly admitted. He turned to Hashirama with a slight bow of his head. “I offer you my apologies, Hashirama.” 

A low murmur circled the room with similar sentiments. 

“However,” he continued, glancing back toward Madara, “If we are expected to yield ourselves to these negotiations, I would personally feel more at ease if Madara were to extinguish his mangekyo sharingan.”

“Aye,” Yamanaka agreed. “As a show of goodwill.” A few nods circled the table.

Madara scowled. 

“The sharingan is a recording device—”

“The sharingan is a recording device as much as a kunai is a quill,” Inuzuka barked, leaning back in her chair with crossed arms. She rolled her eyes and yawned. “Extinguish your weapon, and let us get on with these talks.”

It took a beat of silence, but to your surprise, Madara obliged. The reds of his eyes spiraled into darkness, restoring his irises to their usual deep brown. He continued to frown.

“One of my councilmen will maintain his ocular jutsu,” he sternly insisted. “The Uchiha have a right to keep our account of these meetings.”

“Certainly not!”

“Have your council keep documents like the rest of us—”

“The Uchiha should not be able to maintain something so brazen as a warrior with an ocular jutsu—”

“The woman.” Tobirama’s voice cut across the chatter. You made eye contact with him for the first time since you had met each other again. He stood just behind Hashirama’s shoulder, his red irises boring into yours and his arms crossed. His gaze didn’t leave yours for a second as he spoke. “The woman can keep the record for the Uchiha, for she is not a combatant.”

Madara’s head snapped up instantly, a scathing glare painted over his face. Tobirama’s eyes flickered to Madara. A few heads bobbed around the table. 

“That would be satisfactory…” you heard.

“She is a member of your council, is she not, Madara?” Tobirama doubled down.

You only had a view of the back of Madara’s head, not of the scathing expression that contorted his face as he tried to piece together what Tobirama was playing at. They stayed like that for a few moments, locked in a challenging stare before Madara finally spoke, surprising you with how easily he relented.

“Yes.” He glanced back at you for the briefest of moments. “Yes, she is.”

“Well, if everyone is in agreement, we can finally move past this,” Tobirama spoke quickly, just about cutting Madara off. His eyes drifted back to yours, staring at you along with the rest of the room. 

All attention was on you. You felt it shouldn’t have mattered how important these people were, but knowing their status only made you sweat. Tobirama’s intense stare felt the hottest. 

In a moment unknown to you, Hashirama’s wary gaze drifted toward his younger brother, the thoughts in his head varying in comparison to the room.

You averted your eyes to Madara, who had turned his head just slightly enough to catch your eye from over his shoulder. He hardly gave you a nod. He hardly needed to. 

You cast your eyes down, the reds of your eyes swirling to life. The pattern of your irises was nowhere near as stunning as Madara’s, but your simple eye pattern didn’t appear too important to anyone else.

Hashirama spoke, his usual jolly expression back on his face as he laughed, “We have put off our first order of business for too long now! Let us begin with—” 

With your sharingan ignited, you could never forget Tobirama’s scathing gaze.

***

You were arranged in your own sort of village. Having chosen a slice of heavily forested neutral land that belonged to the Nara, every clan head and posse of advisors were granted their own living quarters for the duration of the negotiations, which were spread out across the small territory. (It all was courtesy of Hashirama Senju’s wood style— you didn’t think there was a single thing that man couldn’t do). 

The negotiation hall was also rather large, consisting of the main, intricately decorated conference room. It also held of a few smaller rooms for clan councils to work out their proposals after hours. You could always smell the kitchen from where you worked, which was exactly next door to the hall.

Run by three Nara aunties, the kitchen always seemed to dish out meals on time and in excess. And for all the petty fighting and suspicion that seemed to subtly lace every other word spoken between clans, no one dared to question any of the Nara cooks. 

Meals were taken in a scattered way, with some councils choosing to sit at communal tables within the dining hall while others took their food in private and likely over political documents. You took yours at one of the few tables that sat outside. Nowadays, you learned to take in the sun whenever you could, opting for a quaint spot under a nearby tree. 

The spot and the view were both aesthetically pleasing, which you assumed brought Mito Uzumaki to plop herself down next to you. And plop she did, her elegant and flowing robes creating a silk wave around her as she looked at you.

“I am Mito Uzumaki,” she said with a curt nod. Straightforward. You already knew who she was. She looked at you with all the seriousness in the world, and the severe pout on her lips made you lower your chopsticks on sight. You weren’t quite ready to handle political matters with such important figures on your own— “I have never seen an Uchiha woman before. Is it true that your clan prefers to send exclusively men into battle?”

Mito maintained direct eye contact as you waited for the punchline, despite the fact that you hadn’t truly mistaken her statement as a joke in the first place. No punchline came. Instead, a gentle breeze passed, making her hair ornaments sway as her face sat comically rigid. You offered her your name, but not even that caused a crack in Mito’s stoicism. You continued tentatively,

“I suppose now you have. Seen an Uchiha woman, that is,” you said, speaking more words that were absorbed into the silence. “I have never seen an Uzumaki woman before…?”

You hadn’t thought it was all that funny. You hadn’t meant for what you said to be comical in the slightest, and yet the loudest, most operatic laugh you had ever heard tore from Mito’s throat like a rogue bird. It came out as one giant “HA!” before she quickly slapped a sleeve-clan hand over her mouth. 

“I see; yes, I suppose that is true.” She nodded, and in an instant, she had composed herself entirely, reverting to her severe, neutral expression. 

You remembered her from the negotiations. She hasn’t said much during the initial squabbling; in fact, you hadn’t recalled her saying anything. But when it came time to discuss actual topics pertaining to the village, the Uzumaki clan made themselves prominent in the discussions. Poised and amply prepared in her talking points, you never knew there could be such a woman leader— much less a clan head. 

“You have quite the sharp wit. I can see why you are so prominent on the Uchiha council,” Mito hummed. 

You opened your mouth to correct her, but you faltered for words. What would you tell her? That you lied during a moment of panic in front of your scorned lover from your teenage years? Perhaps it was her compliment that caused your lips to close. Mito faced forward as you thought, tilting her head slightly. 

“When I first came to attend these negotiations, I was warned there might not be many other women. I had approached Inuzuka, but she did not seem to be one for casual speaking. This is why I say these things. Perhaps I am too invested in such labels,” she said before she rose. Mito gracefully smoothed out her robes. “I will not disturb your meal more than I already have, although—” She turned to you with a delicate smile. “I hope that we may work together in the near future.”

”Yes, most certainly,” you offered, still not entirely wrapping your head around the interaction in the slightest.

Even as she walked away, you pondered her.

***

Mito hadn’t been the only one to mistake you for someone of importance. However, you couldn’t necessarily blame anyone who assumed you would be a good contact with Madara. You did tell Hashirama you were on the Uchiha council, after all, and having shown up to the meetings acting as the Uchiha’s resident records keeper, you had assumed the role rather ideally. But acting only served to get you a short distance and did little for your actual political knowledge or your nerve.

 And so, when you received important documents to be reviewed by the next day’s session, you thought you would pass them off to Madara. You had tried to politely decline the scrolls several times, insisting that they should go to a member who was actually a part of the council without saying the quiet part out loud, but the notes had been thrust upon you regardless. 

You flipped through them out of acute curiosity, skimming them as you returned to the Uchiha quarters. It wasn’t far out of the way, within walking distance of the meeting hall but far enough from the other residences for privacy and peace of mind. You trudged up the path amongst the trees, just beginning to roll the last scroll back up when the Uchiha residence appeared.

But it wasn’t the intricately built building that made you stop at the edge of the trees. 

Tobirama scrambled up from where he sat on the steps to the engawa, placing one foot on the ground while the other retreated a step up. You stood just a short distance away, visibly stunned, as the surprise in Tobirama’s eyes flashed across his red irises before disappearing instantly.

His jaw tightened as a low rumble ruminated around his chest. He cast his gaze off to the side. 

”I was informed that they had just sent a trusted member of the Uchiha council here to deliver the updated documents and that I was to give this to him.” Tobirama held out yet another scroll, nearly identical to the ones you carried. “It was left behind.”

You performed another swivel of your head. The Uchiha lodgings were quiet. A gentle breeze rattled the leaves around you. Madara must be off meeting with Hashirama.

The scroll sat in the air, and you made no effort to retrieve it from him. You took a step back. Tobirama’s arm lowered. His brow twitched.

”And they sent you for this?” you asked. Tobirama’s scowl deepened. “I understand being asked to run papers myself, but—” You purposefully met his gaze with a creased brow and a frown. “They sent you…?”

”I could do the task the swiftest, that is, if Madara was actually here. They must have headed back into town,” Tobirama said just a beat too quickly. “I am surprised you were not notified. I could have saved myself the trouble.” He waved the scroll toward you, bobbing his head in annoyance. “I cannot say I take a liking to the situation any more than you do, so be hasty now.”

“Any more than I?” You scoffed. Your head swiveled around to check your surroundings. When you faced him again, you spoke with a quiet hiss. “Excuse my hesitancy, for the last time we spoke, I do recall you were detailing your plans to mutilate my butchered corpse!”

 Tobirama huffed, but he visibly tensed. His eyes also surveyed the surrounding woods before he glanced back at the Uchiha compound. He leaned forward, not that the slight distance made much of a difference, as he scolded you softly from across the clearing.

“Quite the exaggeration, considering you were an enemy spy,” he gritted lowly through his teeth. His gaze continued to dart around the trees. He scowled deeply before casting his shifty gaze off to the side again.

”This is false by your own admission!” You moved partway into the clearing, your index finger pointed. Another glance away. Your voice was hushed, still hissing in an attempt at secrecy. “You had affirmed that I was a non-combatant in the initial round of discussions, and in any case, it would be inaccurate to describe me as anything else—!”

 “A spy constitutes a danger,” he said quickly, lip curling downward into a shape that could have easily been a pout. 

It was an annoyed gesture but devoid of actual weight. Tobirama sighed, and as he closed his eyes, you could see the tension in his shoulders deflate. He was surely displeased with having to face you so soon, but lacked aggression.

It sent you back, thinking you saw a glimmer of something from the past in the barely recognizable man before you. You never thought you would see him again, after all, and despite the ongoing peace negotiations, there was no doubt in your mind that your previous affair could stir up tensions. 

Your heart constricted, your pulse pounding in your ears. A magnetic force willed you forward, the feeling suffocating your lungs and throat, a dense curiosity. How purposeful had his appearance at the Uchiha compound been?

You wondered what Tobirama thought of all this. You wondered if he looked back upon you fondly like an old flame or perhaps if he was eager to see you again. Maybe it was all too hopeful for the disgust and resentment that coated your very last interaction. 

You thought. You thought. You thought.

But an answer came more swiftly than you anticipated. 

”You seek something that is no longer present.” The skin around his eyes had creased, narrowing his red gaze incredulously at you, piercing you deeply. Tobirama’s voice cut through your thoughts as if reading your mind. It occurred to you for a moment that such a jutsu might exist. “I can see it in those damned eyes… it is the reason you take matters of the battlefield so personally.”

It wasn’t until you stopped short that you realized you were walking toward him. The sudden hostility in his voice froze you mid-step. You stared into his red irises, looking for any hint of his thoughts. 

You thought you had seen something, even in his vexed expression, but its shadow passed quicker than you could catch. And now, he looked down upon you, arms crossed and cold.

“What?” It was the only thing you could think to say. You blinked a few times in disbelief.

Tobirama held the scroll out to you again, waving it a few times in the air. Your gaze darted from the paper back to Tobirama. 

You wanted to step back.

“Do not make this harder than it needs to be,” he gritted. “Your faintheartedness is going to make a mockery of us both, so I implored you not to take matters of the battlefield so personally.” 

His eyes darted to the side with another shake of the scroll, but you didn’t move to take the document from him. Tobirama glared at you a moment more, anticipating a moment that would never come. He retreated with a sigh, pocketing the scroll with a vexed grumble. 

He moved to bypass you, and you should have, by all means, allowed him to continue. 

There was an immense burning in your chest, which grew by the second, pulling you forward toward an opposition you had intended to avoid. Your body moved on its own to obstruct Tobirama’s path.

A short distance still sat between you, but the few steps of dirt did nothing to make up for your indiscretion. Tobirama gazed down at you, almost as surprised as you were at your forwardness. You stood still by sheer and embarrassing stubbornness alone, driven by an urge to pull something from him that even you didn’t know. 

Tobirama stood over you with lidded eyes and a severe expression that contorted his frown deeper. He crossed his arms, squaring his shoulders back as he regarded you. Your nose crinkled between your widened eyes.

You were scared, shaking. It was an incredulous move. Peace negotiations be damned; you must have been out of your mind to challenge the second in command to the most powerful clan in the Land of Fire. Not to mention alone, and for what? It was something that didn’t escape you, but the panic in you needed everything to stay the way it was. Nothing could move, not until you had time to think—

“Move.”

You shook your head. You babbled like a cornered doe. 

— “You did not actually think I was a spy—”

“Move, you foul, demonic creature,” he suddenly thundered. His voice cut through the silence of the clearing in a way you hadn’t anticipated. The volume made you flinch, and the deep roar shook you, striking genuine fear into your heart.

Tobirama was a man now, you had to remind yourself. He had been tall before, but he held an even grander stature now. His form was carved through battle— the killing of your kinsman and the thorough training that you yourself had witnessed long ago. 

You were not naive enough not to understand what such a man was capable of.  

Tobirama’s face was beginning to turn a shade of red. The fur around his neck flared up around his neck like the mane of a lion. He tilted his head back to stare at the sky as he heaved a deep breath. Tobirama moved to retrieve the scroll from his belt, again holding it to you, this time far more aggressively.

“I implore you to cease your difficulty—”

You slapped his hand. 

You slapped him, and the scroll went tumbling to the ground.

You wondered what your face looked like and if it looked as wide and shocked as Tobirama’s. You were sure your expression didn’t revert to stoicism as quickly.

You wished it did.

”Difficulty?” You steamed, spurred on by panic alone. “You argue with me over petty things such as definition, acting rudely to a diplomatic ally, and speaking of difficulty?” Your voice rose. And in a way, you were sent back to a time when you scolded Madara more often— before his promotion to clan head.

His face was severe. 

Your heart pounded in your chest.

You had just laid your hands on Tobirama Senju. And to disrespect a document used in peace negotiations, no less. 

“Are you out of your head?” Tobirama snapped. His hand jerked away as he took a half step back. A part of him seethed; you didn’t have to see it in the twitch of his brow. “If I informed my brother that a member of the Uchiha council made such a gesture, I am certain that the other clans would consider it a declaration of war.” 

He made a sudden gesture toward you, flaring at you and forcing you to take a step back. And for a second, the reds of your irises swirled to life before dissipating into their usual color. 

The movement stunned you, but it only fueled your mounting rage further. You stood, tense in the shadow of the tree line. Tobirama didn’t move as he settled back into stoicism. Although, his clenched jaw betrayed him. 

The forest stood still around you. 

“I had wanted to see it for myself…” Tobirama’s voice faded into a low, haunted grumble. Tobirama’s stare fixed onto your eyes, and whatever the expression was— curious or disgusted— held a morbid gravity. 

He let out a steady stream of air in an attempt to rope himself back to calmness.

He blinked once… twice…

“You are fortunate that we are in this setting of negotiation and unity, for I would not have humored your petty whims for this long otherwise.” His voice dipped, registering at a timber that shook like a predator's growl. You were still shaking. Tobirama stepped forward. “You dare forget yourself when speaking to a warrior of my caliber? Do you consider that I have the time of day for these things? Now move, or I will move you.”

You were frozen, shaking with wide eyes and a crinkled brow as you did what Tobirama could only describe as staring him down. The embers of a raging glint flickered in your eyes, which were beginning to glaze over with tears of stress. You refused to let any of them fall, allowing the water outline the fire that burned in your irises. 

“You would not dare lay a finger on me, and I know as much.” The words lashed from your lips with a heat that burned at Tobirama’s chilly defense. 

You stood at a stalemate, a pause wedging itself between the two of you. 

His presence was overwhelming. Displeased energy radiated off him in waves, making his mounting fury palpable in the air. Tobirama scrunched his mouth, forcing his bottom lip into a severe scowl.

“Because you think I fear Madara?” The question was laced with an accusation. “Madara knows better than to test me.” Tobirama took another step forward, continuing to darken. Instinctively, you stepped back.

“The only reason the Uchiha have leadership intact at all is due to my brother’s amply generous charity.” He tilted his head, studying you with scrutiny. “Is this what you do? Seek out powerful men to hide behind? To prey upon like a lowly urchin?”

You gritted your teeth, glancing him up and down with a flicker of your eyes.  

“I would hardly have referred to you as a powerful man, let alone a man at all—“

“I have had enough of you and of the Uchiha. If this is how things will work, I might as well inform Hashirama that this entire endeavor is as fruitless as I advised him in the first place.” Vindictive. Spiteful. Reckless. Hyperbolized. 

Tobirama pushed past you, moving out of the clearing and toward the path back to the main settlement. 

Not even your momentary flare of courage could make you stand your ground or chase after him as he left. No, not when you were crushed by the weight of what Tobirama just threatened. 

The Uchiha couldn’t afford to resume fighting the Senju, and despite Hashirama’s good nature, you were certain that the Uchiha could be ended here and now if Madara was forced to fight. 

And while you had witnessed Madara’s great strength firsthand, you knew he could not hope to win in this setting. It would all be over. The clan. The dear one you had left. You. All for what?

That had been the question that had been ruminating through your thoughts.

You stared at the back of Tobirama’s retreating head. Air caught in your throat. Panic whipped around all of your thoughts.

For what? For what? For what? For what?

You hadn’t wanted to fight him, nor did you want to chase him. But the nagging heat in your core grew nonetheless. You spun around, an unyielding fury bubbling up in your throat. And against your better judgment, you critically called,

“What would your clan think about your dedication?” It was only with your empty threat that Tobirama stopped. He stopped short in the middle of the path, letting his foot slide as the earth crumbled beneath his heel. He dropped down a quarter step, faced away from you, and unreadable. He was listening, and you were desperate. “You had given much to an Uchiha girl in your past! Would your clan be pleased to know that her memory was the reason for the unrecognizably bitter chakra?”

You almost laughed at your own gaul, and your eyes only widened as he marched back up the path toward you. 

You rambled with panic, the words leaving your tongue before you could think of them. Sweat manifested on your skin as pure adrenaline took over.

“The son of the famed Batsuma Senju and cherished younger brother of the great God of Shinobi, Hashirama Senju, is intimidated in the face of a woman! You should be ashamed—!”

Tobirama only needed a few long strides before he was upon you. Tobirama’s hand shot out to grasp your neck, only for it to phase right through, your illusion dissipating into the air. But just as your figure began to dissipate, and just as you were about to slip past him to make your escape, his other hand aimed directly through your genjutsu and wrapped tightly around your throat in a mere moment of battlefield instinct. 

You were swept off your feet, the entire mass of Tobirama slamming into you like an ocean wave. He held you by the throat with one hand, the rest of his body pinning you against a nearby tree as all the air in your lungs was forced out by the impact. Your hands flew to his wrist. 

He held you there, immobilizing you in an instant. It was as though a bear pinned you down or a beastly forest tiger. Tobirama’s breaths were deep and steady. His piercing gaze bore deeply into you, leaving you no choice but to meet his eye. 

He was choking you, not with the intent to kill, but to establish dominance. The grip may not have comprised all of Tobirama’s strength, but it was enough to make your vision blur.

You squirmed, pulling at his grasp, but Tobirama didn’t budge. He held you close, with his nose almost touching yours. Tobirama’s arm bent at the elbow between you, impeding his chest from fully pushing onto yours. The bark of the wood dug into the skin of your back through your robes. 

His dense, woody scent was overwhelmingly masculine yet clean; something about it shot lightning through your heart. Aside from the burning in your lungs, it was the only other thing you could sense. 

“The only thing I am ashamed of is that I had not seen it sooner,” he gritted. 

His hand jerked in punctuation, shaking you by the neck, and it was only with this movement that Tobirama recoiled. Or perhaps it was the prolonged look into your eyes, dredging memories up from the past that Tobirma thought he had long forgotten. 

He let you go with an acute stumble back, which was hardly noticeable as he clenched his teeth hard. 

You coughed, crumpling down on the ground. A harsh wheeze tore from your throat as you bowed at Tobirama’s feet, trying to collect yourself. 

“Consider us even,” you managed to hiss, still at the ready to sling venom. You stared up at him from between strands of hair. Tears welled in your eyes. 

He hardly lingered on you, decisively turning to storm down the dirt path, brewing with stoic, cold heat.

You sat on the first ground, just on the trail’s edge. Your hands tremored, holding your neck and face as you reeled from what had just happened. You could hardly move, let alone pick yourself up.

“I hope that the mere memory of me shall haunt you until the day you are killed on the battlefield and beyond!” You cried out, strangled. And to your surprise, your curse came out with a laugh. Your tears had been held at bay for long enough, and they finally streamed down your face. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: So I was fully intending on wrapping this story up in the next 3 chapters... before this chapter. Ugh, because it didn't really make sense for them to be shy and want to reconnect now did it? I think people wanted more to the story anyway now that we're in the actually juicy part.

This series was supposed to be like 5 chapters you know.

Because the thing is is that I'm actually trying to make Tobirama a dynamic character because I didn't think he felt like a character at all up until now. If anything, I think I want to redeem the first half of this series because I hate it so much. I do it to myself at this point.

Oh and then I went back and actually read from chapter 7 on and AAAAA i need to FIX PLOT HOLES so...ooo... this series will be TEN MILLION CHAPTER LONG NOW SEE YA IN TEN YEARS

This story is officially "double enemies to lovers"

Next chapter dropping at 100 notes.

Tag list: @gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake @frvv

Chapter I Previous Chapter Part X (Current Chapter)

Full chapter list: Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

[undeadmagick]

How my Deities Appear to Me ♡

One of my very first posts was talking about how surreal it was to see my deities (or how they present themselves to me). You can find it here. So I decided to make a whole post to show what they look like to me with descriptions and some images to kinda explain what I mean. :)

Note: I haven’t meditated with Lucifer before so his appearance isn’t clear to me. Also Apollo had a blurred/unclear face to me when we met so in this post, I’ll be talking about my other deities. If this is an interesting post, I might make a pt. 2 with Apollo even though his face is somewhat unclear to me.

Extra Note: Again, these are how they appear to ME. Obviously, deities present themselves as they think is most identifiable/comfortable to each individual. :)

Deities Featured: Hades, Freyja, Jörmungandr

Hades

Hades has always been the most clear to me. I don’t know if it was because I hold onto the memory so tightly or if it’s because I feel the most connected to him. But for Hades, he presents himself as an older man (late 50s). Many lines on his face with incredibly strong features like a prominent nose. Characters like Snape or Death from Supernatural have that side profile that is similar to how he presents himself to me. Although, Death has the most accurate face to me since Hades has that prominent bump in his nose, sunken in cheeks and thin lips. He has long, sleek black hair and usually wears a black version of Ancient Greek robes that hang off of one shoulder. He also holds his bident, using it almost like a walking stick as he walks. Incredibly tall (Although that’s a feature for most of my deities. For some reason, they all appear to be like 9ft tall.)

Freyja

Freyja also appears to me as an older woman. She has lines on her face like a woman in her older 40-50s. She always keeps a stoic look on her face, cold eyes but warm demeanor in a way. Lagertha from Vikings has a similar vibe to Freyja in having an intimidating and fierce aura but I would say Michelle Pfeiffer when playing Janet van Dyne has a more accurate appearance. Michelle has those high cheeks with lines coming from her nose downward as well as a square-ish face that Freyja has. A mature, motherly appearance while having a femininity to her which perfectly encapsulates Freyja being the goddess of love & beauty but also goddess of war. Freyja also has long ash blonde hair with some small braids in it. Most notably, she wears furs over her shoulders and golden metal jewelry. Much like Hades, she is incredibly tall, towering over me.

Jörmungandr

Ohh, my only non-human deity, lol. Bit more complicated to explain but I’ll try my best. So, obviously, he doesn’t appear as large as he’s described in mythology (or else I’d be 10x smaller than his pupils). He is similar in size to his model in the GOW game, large enough to dwarf you but small enough to fit into a deep lake/ocean. Different to that game, his scales are a deep blue/black in color. But similar to that game is that his appearance is a mix of a snake and more draconic features. His head isn’t as flat as a snake’s but is more pronounced with spikes amongst his scales like a dragon would have. His nostrils aren’t as high up like the game but instead the usual snake placement of being lower and to the front. His eyes are golden sometimes but not incredibly bright. While he is incredibly intimidating, both in attitude and size—causing my heart to race, meditation sessions tend to me calm. (Funny how looking for images that resemble him are more heartracing/anxiety inducing than actually seeing him lol. He has chill vibes.) Since he doesn’t speak physically, it tends to be quiet with just the sounds of the waves of the ocean. Only his head and some of his body appears out of the water. I’ve never seen his entire being.

[flufffilleddonut]

Masterpost

Organized list of all of my fics.

-

Hazbin Hotel

“Radio Waves”: Alastor is suffering from a lee mood. He wants to be wrecked, and plans to indirectly persuade someone into doing so. But who would dare to touch the Radio Demon?

“Radio Waves - Part 2”: Nobody believes Vox when he tells them about his encounter with Alastor. He wonders why the Radio Demon allowed him to attack, yet, unbeknownst to Vox, Alastor intends on teaching him why.

“Radio Waves - Part 3”: After his last encounter with Alastor, Vox finds himself experiencing strange feelings that won't go away. He knows there’s only one demon who can help him, so Vox decides to pay him a visit.

“Emporium’s Delight”: Alastor pays his dear friend Rosie a visit, but something appears to be off with the cannibalistic overlord. Luckily, Alastor knows how to make her feel better.

“Emporium’s Delight - Part 2”: Rosie takes it upon herself to help her dear friend Alastor fix up his appearance after an encounter left him disheveled. A certain discovery, however, quickly prompts Rosie to have a little more fun with the endeavour.

“Lieutenant’s Laughter”: Tired of Lute’s bland responses to his attempts at humour, Adam takes it upon himself to make his Lieutenant laugh.

“Eggcellent Comfort”: Sir Pentious is upset, worried that he will never be able to accomplish his goals, with his talent going unrecognized. His little minions, however, will stop at nothing to cheer up their boss.

“Family Bonding”: While Lucifer is now helping Charlie with the Hazbin Hotel, he still feels remorseful for not offering his services sooner. Luckily, with some help from Vaggie, Charlie knows just how to make him feel better.

“Spider-Mandated Break”: When work starts to become overwhelming for Carmilla Carmine, her old friend Zestial helps to relieve some of her stress.

“Spider-Mandated Break - Part 2”: Carmilla has been easier on herself about her work lately, after some convincing from Zestial. However, she has not forgotten about the unconventional method of persuasion he used, and does not plan on letting his stunt slide.

“Angelic Retribution”: Adam has been annoying Lute for weeks, pushing her further and further to the limit. When an event on Extermination Day presents Lute with the opportunity to get her revenge, however, she happily takes advantage of it.

“Angelic Retribution - Part 2”: Even a whole year later, Adam hasn’t forgotten Lute’s attack on Extermination Day. Luckily for Adam, Lute gets herself in a similar situation, allowing him to carry out his revenge.

“Seraphic Distraction”: Emily’s duty is to ensure the happiness of the residents of Heaven. When she ends up being the one upset, Sera provides a welcome distraction.

“Heavenly Encouragement”: Charlie, Vaggie and Emily are touring around Heaven. Charlie feels dejected, comparing the happy demeanors of the winners to the negative attitudes of her sinners. Emily, however, carries out her duty to spread joy throughout the realm.

“Mirthful Waltz”: Alastor and Rosie practice dancing together, leading to a playful display of affection from the pair.

“Meeting In Progress”: During an Overlord meeting, Vox attempts to get Alastor’s attention by utilizing his electricity-generating abilities. Alastor returns the favour.

“Like Father, Like Daughter”: Charlie invites Lucifer to the hotel for Father’s Day. Emotions ensue.

“Trust Exercise”: When Charlie comes up with a new bonding activity for the hotel guests, she decides to test it out with Vaggie.

“Mischievous Moth”: When Velvette’s actions threaten to interfere with Valentino’s good mood, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

The Amazing Digital Circus

“Raggedy Ran”: When Ragatha suggests a new way for Jax to entertain himself, he takes her advice, just not in the way she was expecting.

Gravity Falls

“Triangulum Experimentum”: While working on the portal’s blueprints, an accidental discovery quickly derails Ford and Bill’s plans for progress.

“Triangulum Experimentum - Part 2”: With the portal’s construction finally complete, Bill decides to seek his revenge on Ford for the events of their previous meeting.

[deadvnstudios]

Hello! This is for the character question week! I like being outdoorsy, so I would like to ask how would everybody react on a camping adventure?

"...I now understand survival of the fittest…"

Noel is once again reminded he might be the only capable person in this group, and he is forced to constantly take over tasks the others are failing at.

The next morning, Noel takes an "everyone for themselves" attitude in regard to cooking breakfast. He departs from the campsite before dawn and heads to the trails most renowned for bird watching, hoping to find some peace and quiet.

It's right as a rare bird settles in the sites of his binoculars that Mona and Vein appear from behind, their laughs piercing the air and startling the bird away. Noel turns, considering homicide, only to decide there are too many witnesses, when they both slyly suggest he might want to return to camp.

At a breakneck pace, he heads back to camp, arriving at the harrowing sight of flaming mallows being waved around and improperly secured sausages sliding off their roasting sticks and plopping into the fire.

To no one's surprise: he winds up cooking dinner.

"Nature, the finest work to be crafted by the gods! Shall we see what mysteries they've left for us to find…?"

Still dressed entirely in her dark outfits, Mona roasts beneath the sun–but she faces the heat with a dogged determination.

She volunteers to collect firewood, only to disappear for an hour because a unique cluster of mushrooms caught her attention. When she finally returns, she has no firewood, but she does have several pages worth of mushroom sketches.

This surprises no one. In fact, a contingency plan was put in place the minute she volunteered, and she delightfully curls up in front of the fire someone else constructed. There, she shows off her sketches to anyone who glances her way–particularly Sorin.

After this, much of her camping adventure is spent exploring the nearby woods (where, according to Mary, a sacrificial site can be found) and sketching every creature she comes across. In the evening, she eagerly shoves the sketches into Sorin's face in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Did mankind not begin their construction of abodes so we could avoid wallowing in filth…?"

Dripping in sweat and unable to find a clean surface to sit upon, Sorin finds maintaining his princely demeanor difficult while camping.

Having no experience and even less interest in camping, Sorin is… very little help around the campsite, unless you consider staying out of the way helping.

The only joy he seems able to find is standing near the stream's edge, watching small minnows and tadpoles drift along with the current. This joy is doubled when the sun finally sets and the moon's pale light glimmers across the water's surface.

"Really, we came all the way out here to listen to Tempest's whiny-ass songs around a campfire? We get enough of this at home."

Mary prefers to stay with her creature comforts and only agreed to go on this trip because it was a break from the commune's monotony.

She quickly discovers while she hates how needlessly complicated camping is, she greatly enjoys all the opportunities camping presents to spook the other members.

This often takes the form of disappearing at night, only to crack twigs and create odd noises near the tree line. Once everyone has gone to bed for the night, she'll grab a flashlight and create scary shadow creatures on everyone's tents.

"Aw, fuck! Another mosquito just fucking bit me! But, hah, even mosquitoes think I'm tasty. All part of the charm, I guess."

Tempest wants to believe himself a hardened naturalist, and he tells the others as such, but he is really just a stream of annoyed complaints: there's too many bugs, he's getting sunburnt, the stream water tastes funny (Noel: "…you need to boil it first."), the tent instructions don't make any sense… etc, etc, etc.

When he has to dismantle the tent for the third time, he abandons this task completely in a fit of frustration and goes to pout by the stream with Sorin. He is not safe here, either, because immediately, the bugs start gobbling him.

Eventually, he decides he will be the de facto entertainer. He takes up what seems like permanent residence by the firepit where he sings and plays his guitar, confident this will help lighten the mood.

"Nothing cozier than a nice fire and friends! Huh - we can't make a fire? Aha, oh well - nothing cozier than friends and a good game night."

Vein doesn't find much enjoyment in sweating and physical activities, but she does enjoy playing games and having everyone trapped and at her mercy in a single area. She loves hanging out–and this is the perfect excuse to hang out with no distractions.

When no one was looking, Vein loaded up every outdoor game they could find into their vehicle. It's only once things are being unloaded at the campsite that it's discovered Vein removed the group's firestarter in place of… you guessed it: another yard game.

She starts camp set-up by delegating tasks, only to eventually do most of the work alongside Noel.

[moonveiltarot]

Hello! Good morning!!

I'm here to join your game!

I'd like to know what Akira Vasily Ignatov / Kai Mikhaylov think of me!! And 18+ too! If you don't mknd👉🏻👈🏻😶‍🌫️

His hair color is blonde, his eyes color is blue!, his height is 190+ cm or more!!

Before I thought if him was a villain or a bad enemy(Peacebreaker) but after he revealed himself, he's a good guy who bruned his face and infiltrated Peacebreaker to protect the world lol sadly he died in the movie LMAOO😭

He only appear from the movie anime called "Psycho Pass Providence"!!

Also is only 1 character, right?

Ooh, he sounds like a Hero~ That's my type too. * swoon *

But no worries, I'm not gonna take him. Let's get into the reading!

✧･ﾟCARDS

Starspinner Tarot: King of Swords, The Moon, 7 of Pentacles, The Tower, The Fool, 3 of pentacles

My Oracle: Protection, Hubby, Light Masculine, Bully reversed.

Manara's Erotic Oracle: The Truth Behind The Illusions, That Secret Naughty Feeling, Indulging The Impossible Pleasure

Charms: rose, blue rocking horse, fox, cloud / thought bubble, fuzzy baby chick, crescent moon, bow tie, pliers, rabbit in a tailcoat, daisy, pink rose, cross pendant.

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔:

He listens to you as you talk about anything and everything. He finds you to be admirable and lets you just share anything. He feels the same peace as you do. You have an emotional connection, which is not something he allows himself to do often.

He has to be serious and stoic all the time, so your childlike demeanor and attitude are very cute. He likes how playful you are. It is a stark contrast to his militant attitude.

He would just want to protect you and provide for you, as long as he alone could possess you. He definitely wouldn't get outwardly emotional, as he doesn't express emotion that way, but you'd be able to feel this from his energy. He would take care of you and probably would give you a souvenir or something to remember him. He might not even directly give it to you, but lay it somewhere you'd see it and hope you took it. Like on the bathroom sink lol.

He sees you as someone deserving of a brilliant husband and he feels insecure about that. Like he's too much of a fuck boi to ever be able to do that for you, but he will give it his absolute best shot to treat you like an absolute wifey.

He wants to get your attention and will do so in a charming and sweet way, but only after watching you from behind the scenes for a little while. He likes to be the masculine one, the one in charge and who makes the first move. He would do so happily and confidently, but would make sure he knew what you liked. He would present you with the most beautiful bouquet of flowers as well. Like white lilies with a pretty pink ribbon tied around them. I'm seeing them on a counter by a dim lamp.

He may have left them on the counter so he could invite you in and you'd be able to take those home as like a memento, sort of like how I mentioned below. I also see him and a female step out of an elevator into his room, so he got a penthouse suite for the evening. Gahdamn. This man is very generous and feels lucky he has you with him. He isn't afraid of emotional intimacy either. He might tell you that he's committed to his job currently and won't have the time or resources to care for you how you deserve, but he'd be so privileged to indulge in you and just enjoy you for the evening. After the encounter, I can see him standing somewhere random and he sees a white flower and it reminds him of you, so he just stares and savors the moments he remembers with you from this moment. He'd remember your smile and laugh and imagine your head laying on his chest. He would smile about it to himself, much to the surprise of anyone who knows him very well. Not incredibly easy to make this one smile.

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐈𝐌:

He's incredibly charming and a perfect gentleman. He has a calm demeanor and is pleasant to be around, even more so in the bedroom. He, himself, may be a little closed off from sharing too many personal details or whatever, but you find it easy to open up and engage with him in conversation.

Akira is an aries, so he definitely has staying power in the bedroom. He seems like he would prefer missionary so he can look into your eyes. It has this strange calming effect on him for some reason. You feel like his safe space away from the horrors of the world. Anyway, he would seamlessly hold your waist and flip over so you're on top. Riding action for this large man. He would love you being top, but would make sure you finish first, probably laying on your back. So switching positions would happen.

He would make sure everything is clean and the lighting is kind of dim before you arrive at, I'm assuming, his apartment or temporary quarters. He wouldn't be able to stay in one place very long considering his job. He would take care to make sure he was in a location you could not be identified and that he could leave quickly without being noticed. He would take into consideration that you deserve a more upscale place, so probably would book a room like that instead of some seedy motel.

If you're already married or in a relationship, he fantasizes about stealing you away and giving you the best sex you've ever had. He's very much attracted to you. You probably tease him often, but try to make it look sort of like an accident, which he likes. It's a vibe that only he would pick up on that. If it happened by accident for real, he would be torn between wondering if you were teasing him or if he was wrong for sexualizing such an innocent little mistake.

He would be highly sexually attracted to you and would think about having a 3rd party involved, but not another female. Like, he would be there to support you while another person which doesn't have a solid identity or face in his fantasy is giving you oral or something.

He's a freak freak. At least in his mind. In reality it would be good sex, but he would probably keep those naughty thoughts to himself. He would lead happily though, so he wouldn't just clam up and say nothing at all during the act.

Songs: Burning In Desire - Chris Grey & Genius - LSD ft. Sia, Diplo, Labrinth

In conclusion: He'd find you to be his dream or ideal person. He definitely would want to get you alone, but would hold back his feral tendencies. I can see emotional connection and just gazing into his eyes a lot. I hope the reading was okay! <3

[paysergraham]

Graham Ness Payser, the Pacesetter Analysis (long read)

I am very much in my own head at the moment & not doing great mentally soooooo I’m going to channel all the negative energy I have into writing something: a wall of text about how the Pacesetter in Corporate Clash is the greatest fight any Toontown server has ever had. Somewhat pent up, be ready for a long one.

(spoiler warning. of course. but like just making sure you’re aware)

I’ll look at 4 key things I look for in a good boss fight (in any game, but especially a turn-based RPG) -Design -Character -Presentation (visuals & audio alike) -Actual gameplay (and how the last 3 points make this boss greater by tying them into the gameplay)

Let’s go in that order, starting with Design.

Pacesetter’s visual design itself is pretty dang special when it comes to Suits/Cogs. Why? I mean, other than his stunning looks and dirt-eating grin (a common trait amongst Sellbots), he has... a human skin tone! But only partially. Some Sellbots like the Two-Face have an entirely human skin tone on their face, what makes him so special?

I think what makes him special in design is that he very much dresses how his personality presents him. What I mean by that is, most Sellbots & cogs in general all have the same suit of their departments. Executives have black suits, that’s the only big difference. Big whoop, right? Graham has one of the only bodies in the game that doesn’t share a suit with anyone. At all. He is entirely unique, having his suit unbuttoned with no tie, revealing his undershirt. He doesn’t even button the suit in formal interviews, for Cog’s sake. “well why does any of that matter?” I hear you asking.

It shows his aggressively “forward” attitude and demeanor without so much as moving a muscle or breathing. I think that is a good thing to have in a character, really understanding how they think/act just from design alone. There’s also the whole part of, “blurring the line between a human and machine by having a partially human face”, but I’ll come back to that later. Now that I’ve talked about his design & how that ties into his character, let’s move on to his actual Character.

Graham is, to be blunt, a narcissistic jerk who only cares about himself (and a very small amount of other people, such as Flint) and thinks everyone else is worse than him at everything (again, other than virtually only Flint). This actually directly ties into his design, my last point. 

Graham doesn’t care about formality at all; again, appearing in an unbuttoned suit w/o a tie in the interview with Jennifer. Graham doesn’t really want to abide by other’s rules, in other words. He only cares about how whatever rules there are benefit him. Nobody else. So he shows up, acts extremely rude to the son of the department head that he’s applying for, as well as the chairman of the company’s secretary, and... nobody cares. Cathal kind of thinks he’s a dingus, but sees it as friendly, while Jennifer is actively infatuated by him. 

So he’s seemingly used to everything going his way and people bending over backwards for him, as the one time something DOESN’T go his way in that comic, he immediately gets pissed off and calls Flint to vent.

Okay, so... he’s a self-absorbed jerk who cares very little for others’ well-being (other than his boyfriend). Again, I might hear you ask “what makes him special? there are plenty of other characters  like that...”

Now that we’ve explored his Character & Design a bit, let’s get into his actual fight, starting with the Presentation of it.

Video games are art, and they take that to heart. From the moment you enter the All-Star Suites, you can tell there’s a very certain vibe to the building. From the retro checkerboard pattern on the floor to the lava lamps to that sick synth in the music, everything about this building is painfully 80′s. So it’s no surprise that when you enter the elevator...

it’s also very painfully 80′s in here! From the obnoxious blue & pink neon lights, to the lava lamps (again), to the albums & subwoofers, even the friggin carpets present in the screenshot are sooooo 80′s. So you have no idea what to expect from this guy, beyond “the professor in the taskline said he was making a lot of noise” and things that you think his room might tell you.

And then, it pans over to the corner, and you finally see the man for the first time:

...pacing in a worn section of carpet, with a sign that says “Pace Corner” shoddily sprayed on it. He doesn’t do a lot, according to his dialogue, and is ecstatic to have Toon visitors so he can subject them to his “test” to join the “Pace Place”. 

So, just from the intro cutscene alone, I think we have been told just about everything we need to be told about this guy, and, judging by how absurdly fast he is in said cutscene, you can probably assume going into the fight that “oh, his fight must be about going fast, right?”

You’d be correct! But before we get into the actual fight/gameplay, let’s talk about the genius of his music. As every turn of the fight, he makes it go faster (up to a limit of 4x faster), every time he increases the speed, the speed of the music ALSO increases. Listening to 1998 Toontown Dance Mix at 1.0x speed compared to listening to it at something even slightly faster like 1.75x speed feels like a completely different song outside of the fight, but when you’re actually IN the fight, it feels smooth as butter the entire time. Like you’re listening to an album that perfectly transitions to the next song because it was made with that in mind. And, the phase 2 music, The Payser Test, sounds like it would be final boss music in any other game; but nope, this is just a guy testing you because he’s bored. The way in which he is so nonchalantly presented as powerful beyond comprehension, but doesn’t actually use his strengths to the fullest effects because he just sees it as a game/not serious, is fantastic for the type of character we’re dealing with here.

Real long paragraph there! Let’s get on to the last part of this, the actual Gameplay, and how the previous points tie into this.

Graham’s fight is unfair. It is intended to be unfair. The entire fight revolves around Graham playing the game by his own rules, NEVER yours, and at random points in the fight he’ll randomly change the rules again or make it harder (with some key quotes being "Any hopes of you winning just dropped to the negatives, bud." & “"Wait a minute, who said YOU could gain the upper hand?!", just proving how much he refuses to play by anyone’s rules but his own, even if they’re causing him to lose). 

As with his design, he constantly goes against what others do/want him to do, as with his character, he only plays by rules that would benefit him the most, and as with the presentation of his fight, he ultimately isn’t taking you seriously (at ANY point) and just sees this as some weak Toons waltzing in to entertain him by playing by HIS rules and ONLY his rules. HE owns the Pace Place, NOT you.

And, of course, he ends up collapsed in the Pace Corner at the end of the fight, because he can’t admit you outdid him, even though you were playing by his rules. You won with the cards stacked against you and your friends, and if he were to accept that, he wouldn’t really be the character we all know & love (or know & hate. I don’t judge even if he’s my husband)

Anyway, it’s about time I wrap this up. I’m feeling a lot better now, actually. I’m not sure if I had a point with this other than how much I freaking love Graham. Thanks for reading (or not reading)!

[adam-stark]

( tw: mention of drug use )

Rosalyn Arryn had become a dear family member in the years she spent in the Kingdom of the North. Another member of the pack. Another one who was brought down to the crypts much too soon. The Strangers, as many called the reaping agent of death, kept taking and taking. Adam himself didn't believe in such a deity —he barely believed in the ancient gods of his homeland. He did believe in death, though, as it was the only certainty in this life. It was the only force in the world that would always answer, whether it was called or not.

His wife held his hand as House Stark and their closest ones went through the funerary rites of their queen, a queen of Arryn blood and whose kin also found themselves in the wintry confines of the North. He was only distantly aware of what was happening around him, barely grounded by Glorie's touch, for his mind was still clinging to the last episode he'd had. A few days before the queen's death, time stood still in that strange way it happened once before; sounds and physical sensations foreign to where he was fully enveloping him. He did wonder if what he'd experienced had been a sort of sign, an omen about Rosalyn's fate. He did not wish to dwell on that worrisome thought.

Adam knew he wasn't the only one struggling, though perhaps he was the only one of his soldiers experiencing such strange episodes. He wondered if it was his Stark bloodline, if the gift he'd never gotten as some of his siblings did, was now manifesting in some twisted way because the xiangliao had edged him closer to something dormant. None of his men had admitted to having visions or any other bizarre occurrence happen to them. Not yet. The members of the berserk legion did speak of cycles of wariness and agitation if they spent too long without using the YiTish substance. Their bodies were not processing it in the same way they did before when it all was focused on raging through the battlefield. What gave them immense strength in times of war, weakened them now in times of peace.

“Your Grace,” the prince greeted the Queen of the Vale, his tone dispassionate, almost as if he'd just walked out of a daze. He'd only been half-present at his sister-in-law's funeral, truth be told, though not due to a lack of interest or lack of love. His mind was whirring. And yet, he dared to think that Ravella Arryn might have been even less present than he'd been. Her sister had just died, and the queen had a letter to write.

“Must be a most urgent matter,” Adam mentioned, though he was in no place to pass judgment about the queen's demeanor or concerns. Ravella Arryn's cold disposition was almost legendary, after all. It was possible that such cold dispassion attitude extended toward her siblings as well.

“My brother is taking it as well as he can,” the lone wolf of House Stark stated back, briefly glancing over his shoulder to where his brother was. Adam wasn't privy to every aspect of Owen and Rosa's marriage, and while love might not have been the basis of it, he knew that the King in the North had respected and cherished his queen. Strange, though, that House Stark appeared to be mourning Rosalyn more than her own blood did. “How are you taking it, your grace?” he found himself asking. “Your sister was a most caring and generous woman, it's a tragedy she passed so young”.

who: @adam-stark when and where: following the death of rosalyn, queen of winter, certain members of the falcon court make their way to winterfell for the funeral of an arryn princess. the burial is done according to the old gods of the north, and rosalyn's corpse is interred within the ancient dark crypts of winterfell; the final rites are issued and the queen of the vale is the first to turn on her heel and climb the steps leading out of the crypts, whilst many remain within the darkness. she is holding a burning torch, and when she hears a figure climbing up the steps behind her, she turns to see the prince of winter - adam stark.

in her youth, many had spoke of the handsome face of adam stark; countless vale women quietly spoke amongst themselves of his quiet, honourable nature: all whilst maintaining the sternest of faces considering they would rather be caught dead than be seen speaking about a northman in such a way. there was an ancient bond between their houses, perhaps because despite the andal influence of the vale, the houses of the first men had blended perfectly with the houses that brought them civilisation.

she wanted to be at home. she wanted to be within her own halls, at her own desk, surrounded by her own courtiers. the sooner this was done with, the better. in her thoughts, ravella had not even truly contemplated on the fact she was the only arryn remaining on this side of the continent.

ravella had always thought he had sullen eyes, and as she turned in the stone hallway leading from winterfell's crypt, she still found that his eyes were sullen. his entire being was quite sullen, both physical and emotional; she wordlessly passed him the burning torch she held onto for him to light the path they walked. "your highness." ravella greeted rather coldly, in her usual tone; and then she turned her gaze back forward. "i have a letter to write."

there was visible heartbreak within the northern court, who no doubt grieved for the grace and the warmth that the arryn princess had brought to the northern court: but the majority of them did not matter. it was the wolf king who mattered in true essence, and what he made of the entire matter; the children born in their union served as a physical link between the realms of the north and the vale, though he would remarry.

and when he remarried and sired more children, it was entirely possible that he would prioritise those children as his heirs rather than that of his first marriage. had rosalyn arryn left enough of an impression upon her husband? she said nothing as they walked, though she could tell the silence that lingered between them was quite not entirely content. rather tense, in actuality; perhaps because the falcon queen had showed no grief as she watched her sister's remains be put into the crypt of the wolves. "how is his grace taking it?"

[sweetdreamsbuck]

How do you think lee would react to the probably inevitable day he couldn’t zip that damn sexy leather jacket up?

ohmygoshohmygoshOHMYGOSH!!!!!!🥺 (got carried away with this. i've had an awful day and i'd kill to take care of my Sheriff)

have some angst and fluff!! tiny bit of suggestive language— Sheriff x Princess. you know i can't get enough of these two

Lee felt distraught— and so ashamedly flustered from being upset by it. He doesn't ever want Princess seeing him so disheveled, so unkempt and so ill-fitted for his usual controlled and steady demeanor. But his appearance and image is a sensitive topic for him— especially when Princess is the only one who's ever made him feel like something worth looking at.

Everyone’s always respected him because of his terrifying stature— because of the menacing scowl he wears and the badge sitting pretty just below it, but not Princess.

His Princess has always made him feel respected out of overwhelming love and the desire to cherish the man receiving it.

You feel it before you see it, his sour and defeated attitude permeating the air with distain. Lee's stomping back and forth in the hallway, flushed with anxiety and concern over something so simple— frustrated and beyond worked up over the reality that the sides of his zipper won't meet or how the sleeves of his jacket restrict his strong arms from their once agile movement. But that's not what does him in. He looks up, angered sadness and pain set deep in the crevices of his face and sees you.

His Princess. The one he's meant to be strong for; always present and eager to provide for; always protective and bridled with a heated possession; the one he's only ever meant to suffocate with an unwavering duty to love. Not this; never this. You can't see him like this.

He breaks.

The first time he's ever let a tear fall in front of his angel. "'M sorry Princess. Don't want ya seein' me this way." he harshly chokes out, a large hand moving quickly to wipe the falling tear, hoping he'd caught it in time before you could see it.

Of course you saw it. You can never take your eyes off of him, what would make now any different? When have you ever let your sheriff be so hard on himself?

"Lee Bodecker, cut that out right now. don't hide anything from me. What's got you all upset like this hmm?" you coo, your fingers instinctively finding their favorite place resting atop the buttons adorning his belly. "Talk to me... please" you whisper lovingly into the soft curve of his jaw.

"Damn jacket don't fit no more. How'm I meant to do my job providin' for my baby if I can't even fit my clothes? How can ya wanna be with me, Princess? I look-"

You cut him off in a bruising kiss, one that renders the world still for a moment, all the air dissipating within the atmosphere and leaving you to choke in only the breath of each other. A stray tear drips from Lee’s tightly closed lashes, falling intimately between your lips and turning the moment into a striking realization for Lee. You've never once let him feel any less than yours, why would you change your mind now that he can't get his old jacket to close?

"Jackets are meant to be grown out of, Lee. Just means i'm keeping my strong man full and satisfied," you quip, his favorite smirk of yours tugging at your lips as you scratch playfully at his belly.

Your hands make their way to the lapels of his jacket, slowly removing the garment one shoulder at a time. "I'm gonna run down to the store and get you a brand new one. Maybe a few different colors... nothing sexier than my Sheriff in leather," you whisper, placing a few soft nibbles into the side of his jaw. "And then we'll have to break them in, won't we?" he nods his head bashfully thinking back to the first day he came home wearing his new jacket; how wild your eyes got drinking in the sight of him before you pounced.

"Besides... always wanted to steal this and keep it all for myself. Need everyone to know who I belong to; only ever want them to see me wearing my sheriff's jacket. Maybe that little secretary of yours will finally stop eyeing you up and down all the time... bitch." you mutter, feigned annoyance laced in your confession.

His eyes widen, face softening in delight as his eyebrows kiss the hairline your fingers love to tease so much, "I know my sweet lil' Princess didn' jus' use a dirty word like that..." he meekly chuckles. "Jacket's all yours, babygirl. Ya always jus' know what to say, huh?" with an accepting shake of his head and a tearful blink of his bright eyes, his lips reach for yours in grounding desperation.

Maybe it was the way every word you spoke seemed to rouse yet tame even the most dormant parts of him.

Perhaps, it was the gleam in your eye as you drowned him with your devotion— the heartfelt adoration vibrant inside each breath, in every tease of a finger, in each blink of your brilliant eyes and intoxicating air of laughter.

He needed you, he longed for you.

His hands trail the expanse of your back as his mouth claims yours, moving possessively around you to cling at your hips, needing to keep you tightly against the soft bulge of his stomach as he lets his worry melt at your embrace. "Forgot my baby's sucha dirty girl" he mumbles breathlessly against you, playfully biting at your lower lip when you groan and squint your eyes in response.

"You're the best thing to ever happen to me— beyond perfect for me, Lee. You know this tummy drives me wild. You've got the sexiest arms I've ever had the pleasure of seeing... and don't get me started on those damn cheeks," you angle his face down closer to yours, two lingering kisses pressed into the warm apples of his cheeks. He quietly laughs at your actions, a soft blush dusting his face as he tries to meet your adoring gaze. "Oh these, too..." you deadpan, quickly moving your hands to pinch at his round bottom. Laughing loudly— a real belly laugh you wish he'd let you hear more— he traps your wrists between his hands and removes them from his ass, hoisting you swiftly over his shoulder and jumping to move.

Running to the living room and throwing you against the couch, his world seems to slowly start turning again; the air sweetly returning to the surface and filling his lungs with you.

Your laughter and breathless chants of 'you're mine, Lee' dances radiantly through the air, the love and understanding steeping this moment you share well enough to warrant him unspoken reprieve.

If Lee was insecure about something, his Princess would be there to help him through it. Pulling you into his lap, he rests his head back against the pillows of the couch, your face fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. "You're strong and soft and everything I need you to be and more," you whisper.

A comfort, a reassurance, an affirmation.

"I love ya— so goddamn much, Princess..." he sighs, another tear rolls past the corner of his bright blues, trailing down the cheek you love so much.

He lets your hand caress his face, the pad of your thumb smoothing away all evidence of there ever being a tear at all. Lee's eyes close in content, nuzzling his face into the palm of your delicate hand. He hums quietly, his lips moving ever so gently to press featherlight kisses into the skin there. "Can't wait to dress ya in my jacket... how've I not made ya do that before? You're never takin' that goddamn thing off. Understand me?"

xx

[sergiovinazzi]

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Two)

2.9k words, rated E for everyone :)

Lando’s voice, amplified by the TV speakers, echoes around the humming Red Bull garage. “I’m fine but I’ve been better. I can say that I’m not in perfect condition, I’m not gonna lie. Some work to do mentally of course. I talk about that a lot, and mental health and mental strength is very important. I’ve not been sleeping that great and so on… not ideal and I’m feeling a bit sore, but I’m not the guy in the worst position after Wembley. I’ll work on it, I’ll make sure I’m in the best shape possible, and I feel like I can still go out and focus on what I need to do, and that’s the main thing.”

Your mind races as you listen to the boy plastered across the many screens revisit his experience at Wembley. He sounds awful; something about his cadence making it even more obvious that he is really, truly shaken up. The wavering pitch, awkward pausing, fumbling for words; everything about the way he presents himself is serving as a brutal reminder that being physically unscathed is no indicator that harm was not dealt. Even as the interview moves past the topic of last week’s Euro Final, you notice the shift in demeanor and your heart aches. You worry that bringing the watch to him is a bad idea, that it could prompt unbidden memories and disquieting feelings. You understand how big of an event Silverstone is from your dad’s tangents alone, especially for an English team with an English driver, so you reevaluate whether your decision to come was selfish, one made solely to alleviate your own sentiments of guilt rather than to verily right your believed wrongdoings.

On the journey to Silverstone, your dad had made multiple attempts at lessening your stress, even opting for variations of the if he steps out of line I will put him right back in his place father speech. Unfortunately fruitless, your father’s attempts mean you remain just as anxious as when you had first discovered that you managed to obtain a stolen wristwatch.

You’re not sure whether it’s the crisp morning air or your nerves that sends chills across your flesh, but your attempt to ground yourself subtly doesn’t go unnoticed by your dad as he passes you in the garage.

“Time is ticking,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips. “No pun intended.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to downplay your apprehension, but your voice gives away any and all signs of the false confidence you hope to portray. “Can you do it for me?” you plead.

“I can’t just stroll on over to the McLaren garage without an invitation or proper reason, especially not a couple hours before free practice starts. It doesn’t look good.”

“It’s not like me walking in there instead would look any better,” you retort, gesturing to the Red Bull logo plastered across the chest of your black polo. “Your branding isn’t what I would call subtle.”

“Look, the McLaren team are a good sort. They’ll help you out if you just explain the issue and show them the watch. I’m sure Lando will understand too, he seems like a pretty nice bloke,” your dad reassures you.

Sighing, your eyes meet the floor, fingers intertwined with each other as you fidget incessantly. Before you can speak up in further defiance, however, an additional set of footsteps grow nearer and you freeze at the voice which speaks up.

“Christian, how much longer until our media slot?”

You lose your breath momentarily, locking your gaze onto your shoes as you wait for the person to pass by.

“About five minutes, Max,” your dad replies. “We were just about to head over.”

When you hear the footsteps grow fainter, you risk looking up, thankfully being met with only the observance of your father. You don’t even realize that you’ve tensed your body until your dad points it out.

“Relax,” he says. “He’s not going to say anything here, especially not on a race weekend.”

Nodding, you feel your shoulders ease up but you remain quiet.

“Anyways, like I said, our media briefing and interviews start soon and we’re after McLaren this weekend so they should already be back in their garage,” he says, realizing that you still appear troubled by the task ahead of you. “I promise you, everything will be fine. Just go over there and I’ll meet you back here when we’re done. The quicker you head over, the quicker you’re done with it and we can all move on." With that, your dad walks away and you reluctantly leave the Red Bull garage, adjusting your shirt as you straighten up.

You take a brief glance at your phone, turning it off after you try one last time to keep the picture of the boy imprinted in your mind. Eyes darting rapidly, you attempt to scan the paddock for anyone looking remotely like him while you make your way towards the bright orange and blue indicators of the McLaren garage.

The frequency of orange-clad individuals grows the further you stray from the safety of Red Bull’s garage, and you feel your heartbeat begin to increase. Worried that someone would stop you before you could approach the one person you had traveled all the way to Silverstone for in the first place, you quicken your pace.

You’re mere meters away when you spot him. Pushing past a few people while trying to keep your eyes trained on him, you watch as he turns around to talk briefly with the woman next to him.

Huffing, you muster up the little confidence you have and tap him on the shoulder.

His confusion is evident and the blonde woman next to him does not look pleased to have been interrupted. The silence is palpable as they stare at you, expecting an explanation for the abrupt ending of their conversation.

“Hi,” is all you can deliver. You’re at a loss for words while the woman next to him seems to lose what little patience she has with you. Everything you had rehearsed beforehand, gone. Your mind is foggy and your mouth feels dry as you try to compose yourself. “Um, can I talk to you for a second? It won’t be long, I promise.” Your voice breaks at the end and you wish you had never agreed to get on that stupid red-eye to Silverstone in the first place.

Lando offers a look of sympathy and then turns to the woman next to him. “Charlotte, could you just give us a second?”

Pursing her lips and turning on her heel, the woman walks away, heading towards the mouth of the McLaren garage. She’s far enough away that you’re out of earshot, but close enough that you feel her gaze linger as Lando turns back to face you.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he tells you with a smile. “We can take a picture if you want or I can sign some stuff for you.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, mentally slapping your palm against your forehead and forcing yourself to get a grip. Idiot. “Fuck, sorry, that sounded so rude! It’s just-” you rush to explain.

“Oh no, it’s okay!” he stammers. “I should’ve guessed from the Red Bull shirt anway.”

You both share an awkward laugh before you compose yourself and reach a shaky hand into your bag.

“This is going to sound so weird, but I was online shopping for a new watch the other day because I lost mine, and I’m pretty sure I bought the one that was stolen from you. I didn’t know anything about it, I swear. I just...well, here,” you say, offering the watch and its temporary box to Lando.

He looks at you, taking the box only to go wide-eyed at the contents inside.

“I have all the information that I was able to get, but the ad was taken off of eBay and I really wanted to do the right thing and give it back to you. Please don’t be mad.”

“What the hell?!” he exclaims, earning a few looks from people passing by and catching Charlotte’s attention once more. “Sorry, sorry. How did you get this?”

Amused, you laugh quietly while he studies the watch intently. “That was my dad’s reaction too. Basically there was a listing for it on eBay and it was sort of an impulse buy,” you explain. “I didn’t see the news coverage of what happened until afterwards and I felt awful. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, I genuinely had no idea.”

Shrugging, he plays it off. “Nothing I can’t handle.” It’s hard to miss his sudden change in attitude from the interview you watched moments ago and you can’t help but wonder whether he has your or the watch’s presence to thank.

There is a brief moment of silence between you both before he continues. “How much did you pay for it?”

“It was so cheap, honestly,” you say. “Nothing compared to the original price, I’m sure.”

Charlotte, alerted by Lando’s attention-grabbing reaction to being reunited by his watch, returns to where the two of you are standing. “Oh wow, did you find a replacement watch for him?” she asks you, clearly impressed by the apparent likeness.

“No, Charlotte”, he corrects her. “It’s my one. Look.” He hands the watch to his PR manager, who receives it so gently you think she’s afraid it might shatter in her hands. Flipping the watch between her fingers, she studies the small engraving on the underside of the face.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

Lando nods. “It’s the exact date it was given to me, there’s no way anyone else could know that and make a copy of it.”

You feel the need to justify yourself to her. “It was listed online and I bought it before I knew anything about the situation. I didn’t even really know who Lando was until I saw what happened on the news, I swear.” You anticipate her anger or disapproval, preparing yourself to withstand the lecture you’re about to receive and mentally promising that, as soon as it’s over, you can run back to your dad and tell him you just want to go home.

But it doesn’t come.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaims. “We all thought we’d never see it again and you found it on accident.” The smile she gives you sets your mind at ease. “Technically, this is a police matter now, so I’ll have to hand it over to the right people, but this helps us tremendously. Did you get any information about the seller?”

You explain the situation to her, about how the listing was taken offline but you have a printout of the messages and address the seller gave you, which you hand her from your bag. She lets you know that someone may get in touch soon to ask questions but not to worry, that it’s only a formality. Eventually, she asks if you’d like to watch free practice from a spot in the mobile hospitality unit, but you politely decline, explaining that you needed to get back to your dad in the Red Bull garage instead.

Charlotte smiles fondly at Lando and presses the brim of his cap down over his eyes. “Come on, you, we have to go and get ready now anyway.”

He takes off his hat, cheeks flushing as he makes an effort to quickly brush the curls lining his forehead, placing it back on and dismissing Charlotte with a wave of his hand. “Okay, just give me a minute.”

Once the two of you are alone, he pulls out his phone. “Do you have Venmo? I’ll pay you back, it’s not fair that you had to waste your money.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

Lando seems unconvinced. “It’s really not a problem.”

“Seriously, it’s all good.”

“Well,” he continues awkwardly. “I have to go, but are you here for the whole weekend or...?”

You shake your head. “Just today. I’m not into Formula 1, I find it a little bit boring.”

“Seriously?! The fastest cars in the world and you’re calling it boring? Why even come to something like Silverstone if it’s so boring?” he feigns offense, doing air quotes as he imitates your apparent disdain for the sport.

Laughing quietly, you shrug. “I have family at Red Bull, so it was basically just luck and convenience that you were in the U.K. this weekend,” you clarify. “I don’t really understand Formula 1, that’s all.”

“Fair enough, it’s not for everyone I suppose,” Lando replies. “So who in your family works at Red–” The end of his question is drowned out by the sound of his name called by an evidently disgruntled, impatient engineer.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve really gotta go, but, um,” he exhales with a nervous laugh. “I still feel like I need to repay you in some way. Do you want to go get a drink after the race on Sunday? I’m busy for the next few days but Sunday night I’ll be free. Only if you want to, of course, I don’t want to, like, pressure you or anything.”

You laugh, appreciative that the nervousness was shared. “That– Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll give you my number.”

He types your details into his phone before apologizing once more, thanking you again, and rushing off into the garage.

——

On Sunday, you let your dad believe he’s the one who convinced you to stay for the entire race weekend, but it’s the promise of Lando’s company later that night and the endearing text messages on your phone that prompts the desire to see this weekend through. You had spent the previous nights on your phone, going through driver and team Instagram accounts, as well as the F1 website, to get an idea of what to expect. Typically, it would pain you to look through motorsport news pages, especially with so many of the reports centering around Max and his vie for the championship as of late, but you manage.

You notice almost immediately while settling into your spot at the back of the garage that the energy does not match your own. You are enthusiastic and eager, while the rest of the team is stressed and rushes around you. Presumably, it’s because race day impacts their livelihoods and paycheks whereas it only dictates your family’s dinner topics, but, nevertheless, your excitement refuses to simmer.

Unfortunately, if it was weird for you to be seen at the McLaren garage before the first free practice, it would be infinitely more suspicious for you to be lingering around on race day, so you were not able to catch Lando at all since your initial meeting on Friday. However, you made sure to message him good luck beforehand, to which he thanked you and expressed excitement for your upcoming night.

“If you need anything, just ask. I’ll be on the pitwall,” your dad says, snapping you out of your whirring mind. He notices your obscure behavior, quick to comment on it. “Is it weird? Being here after so long?”

You nod, shrugging. “Unusual, for sure. So much has changed since the last time I came and watched, but I’m excited, though.”

“Well, it’s always good to have you here.”

Reciprocating your dad’s grin, you silently send him on his way. He exits quickly and leaves you to your own devices. Though, your own devices look to consist of impatiently waiting for the race to start and scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Ironically, your boredom with pre-race antics appears to create quite the dichotomy against the chaos exuding from the garage you find yourself encompassed in.

Regardless, your attention is regained when frequent cuts are made to the drivers in their cars, and you recognise that the race will be starting soon. You are temporarily startled when the cars begin moving without hearing an official announcement, but quickly realisee that it is merely a formation lap and no one else around you seems to be paying all too much mind to it.

When the cars return to their positions on the grid, you watch eagerly as the lights flash and the announcers begin yelling. You keep your eyes trained on the orange car towards the front of the grid, watching Lando so intently that you almost miss what happens to the cars in front of him.

Your eyes go wide as you watch the events unfold: the Red Bull car out front collides with what you identify as a Mercedes, spinning and slamming into the barrier. Gasps chorus across the garage as the screens replay slowed clips of the crash as an announcement states that the safety car has been deployed. They replay it from every conceivable angle, your astonishment at the severity is present upon your first viewing, but it’s only after the sixth clip that it clicks in your head that the person in the car is Max.

“For the second time this season, Hamilton and Verstappen clash and tangle on the opening lap, but, this time, it is ending in dramatic consequences for the championship leader.”

If you had perceived the pre-race behavior in the garage as chaotic, this was a whole new level of absurdity.

People rush around you while orders are shouted and frustrations are verbalised.

Your dad is angry.

The last time you recall him behaving like this was when your younger sister had broken the wine glasses he had bought for your mother on their honeymoon. You, however, ignore his yelling and remain encapsulated by the TV, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the events unfolding finally, finally register in your brain.

Car number 33 is in the wall and out of the race, and your ex-boyfriend is inside, silent and unmoving.

____________

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love

[devotedwrites]

He liked her. The demeanor alone when she stepped into the kitchen, and started to put in her two cents about the restaurant. James he possessed the technical work, he could put everything in order to make this kitchen appear, and run as if it was a Michelin star restaurant. He couldn’t connect, couldn’t change the chemistry of kitchen’s attitude, and it was becoming more evident to himself that taking over his brother restaurant-his legacy was causing doubtful thoughts to plague his mind.

Twenty minutes purely was dedicated to observing. His methods weren’t anything near the experiences of high class fine dining restaurants that he endured. Especially at Le Bernardin, the three Michelin star French cuisine restaurant in Midtown. Le Bernardin was the restaurant that chefs would kill to even step foot into the pristine kitchen. James wasn’t hovering over her every choice, and verbally abusing the crap out of her like he had experienced. Rather he stepped back, gave space to let a sort of comfortability form in the environment to allow her-and well him to see the full ability of her craft. He appreciated the meticulous nature she exhibited, clearly had culinary training with the techniques he observed, and the ability to maintain a clean work space.

No words had uttered from his lips during those twenty minutes, just a silent appreciation, as you could only imagine how refreshing it was for him to have of chef of her caliber in his kitchen. He stepped forward as he watched her finish up with a pride in her work. As she spoke, his full attention been directed onto her, his eyes steadfast onto her, and fully absorbed into her explanations of the choices she made to elevate the sandwich. Seemed more like a secret talent, but he could pick up on the nerves. The pause between her words, and collecting herself was all he needed to see it. How he could nitpick it so quickly was because that use to be him. “The previous owner Mikey-“ he turned his direction to the sandwich sitting on the station, taking it in presentation wise. “The guy whole shtick starting this place was to focus on those bold classic flavors.” He reached over to the corner of the station where a black knife sheath sat, and with a swift movement unraveled it. A knife set of the Kikuchi cutlery brand one of the most expensive set ups not one you’d ever imagine in a rinky dinky restaurant like The Beef. “I know it’s a staple, but-“ he made a vertical cut straight down the middle splitting the sandwich into two halves.

Grabbing onto one half of the sandwich he brought it up to his mouth, and took a bite of it before setting it back down. “This.” He snapped his fingers, and pointed down to the sandwich she crafted excellently. “This is what I wanna give people. Keep those staples that everyone knows, and loves; but I elevate the way you did chef.” His compliments were completely genuine as he spoke with a passion for this subject. “It’s a perfect balance Chef.” Flashing her a quick smile, before dropping back to the neutral expression. “Some advice. You gotta trust learn to trust your instincts. The nerves never go away, but you got somethin goin on here Chef. You got the potential here.” Pointing his finger into the counter as a soft thud came from the station as he did. “Just gotta remind yourself that when those nerves start winning, you know?”

His eyebrows furrowed more, and more as he continued to speak giving her his two cents. Wanting to make his point across that he genuinely could see the potential, and wanted her to know it. Even though a part of him had convinced himself, that she more than likely thought he was some line cook bum.

“James Valdez. I’m the new owner of The Beef.” Feeling it was about time he introduced himself. He was gonna go with his gut on this one, and take this a sigh from the universe throwing him a bone after the whole shit with Mikey. “How well Verse are you in the brigade de cuisine?” Flavor profile he knew just from the sandwich she was match, but last part of his checklist was if knew the technical aspects to maximize kitchen proficiency.

“How’d you change things up if you were chef de cuisine?” The curiosity getting the best of him. Which more often than not it usually did for James. He already had his own thoughts, and actions in place to start maximizing efficiency within the staff, and he was curious to hear if she’d have a similar thought process to his own. Of course if she chose to even answer his questions. Mean you’re invited into the kitchen of one of your favorite local spots, by some random ass guy, to make a sandwich which he knew very well she wasn’t serious about actually making to begin with. Now? Now he’s asking questions as if it been some job interview. There would be absolutely no shock if she booked it out that door within a blink of an eye.

Plot: Based off the show ‘The Bear’. James is a award winning chef despite his young age. After his brother untimely self inflicted death, he leaves his run down, inner city staple of a restaurant too James. In which James gives up the straight path to becoming a world class chef, and takes over the restaurant his brother left him. Where he’s now looking for a Sou chef to help him turn the place around.

Muse: James Valdez. (26, heterosexual, gives charismatic line cook energy, but hot headed when things aren’t going his way. With a sprinkle of that family Trauma.)

Connections: Sou Chef applicant, close friend, ex girlfriend (if you wanna go crazy, and make something work), Customer, really anything you want. Romantic only F. Open to platonic.

@indiestarter

James Valdez, you’d see him on Top 100 newest chefs articles, and was really beginning to make a name for himself. That was before his brother unfortunate death, and left James a shit hole of a restaurant in his name. Where James dropped the fast track of becoming a world renown chef, and took over the restaurant that ate money more than it has ever made.

The stress that came taking over this dump, and trying to find Sou Chef that actually wanted to change this place around with him for well barely any money in return. Was reasonably a disaster.

Stepping out the back down, shoving the door back a bit harder than he had intended as he stepped into the alley after trying to get the staff to clean the kitchen. He let out a heavy sigh, running his calloused hands down his face, before he patted down in his jeans pocket, and pulling out a pack of cigarettes along with his trusty green lighter. One he was superstitious about ever letting anyone touch or use. Flickering the gear about once or twice. Before lighting it up, and taking a drag off of it. The exhale almost sounded like a sigh of relief, feeling it burn the back of his throat.

His dark brown eyes wandered through the alley, before they narrowed making out a figure that he couldn’t make out from the blinding sun.

“Hey!” His voice raised with his New York accent prominent. “Restaurant is closed for the day.” He’d been taking this one day at time. As today was about having the kitchen to standards, and getting it cleaned. Plus ‘interviews’ for a Sou Chef if he could ever find one for this dump. “it’ll be open tomorrow.” The last part was muttered as the cigarette was between his lips once again.

[jinxthejubilee]

The Disney Villain Recruiters Personalities Part 1

So, this has been something I've wanted to for a while now. For those of you who don't know, the Disney Villain Recruiters was a Tokyo Disneyland-only show held every Halloween. Basically, the minions of famous Disney villains come to our world to try and tempt us to join their villain bosses.

- By the way, they are not the sons, daughters, or genderbent versions of the villains. They are just minions.

Anyway, I discovered this show at least two months ago, and I've loved them ever since. Sadly, the show ended in 2018, but thanks to Twisted Wonderland's popularity, they've gained a following. I wanted to try and help others in this small fandom of ours by writing out their personalities. Just in case anyone wants to write about them, they can have a better grasp at what they act like. And I want to help give ideas in terms of character interactions, not just with other recruiters, but with the main heroes of their stories. Starting off with Apple Poison!

- Just a heads up by the way, I do not speak Japanese. Thankfully, there were a few that had English subtitles, but not a lot. These are just my interpretations of him based on the videos I've seen, along with my own personal ideas about his character. So, let's get started!

Apple Poison 🍎

As the human manifestation of the infamous poison apple, Apple Poison is the blunt, austere, and observant servant of the Evil Queen. While it remains unclear if the Apple himself is the apple itself brought to life as a homunculus, or is simply a character designed to represent the apple, Poison embodies his namesake quite well, as a dark reflection of a Disney prince.

Apple is the most mature of the recruiters, actively taking the role of a leader aside from the hosts, likely due to his origin movie being the first of Disney's long catalog. He comes across to others as cold and aloof, even intimidating. However, he remains a loyal servant to the queen, who is one of the few people he will present a veiled sense of compassion to. While not nearly as obsessive with his looks as Her Majesty or Malfie, he still takes pride in his appearance and works to look presentable, refusing to settle for anything less than adequate.

He displays a similar mindset towards his colleagues at first, as he viewed each of them as beneath him and not worth his time to even interact with. His behavior towards his fellow recruiters could be described as antagonistic, hidden behind his strange sick charm and calm and collected attitude. Apple has a habit of pointing out the flaws of the people around him, which comes across to the others as cynical, manipulative, and annoying. While Apple can find and respect the good qualities and traits in others, he prefers to point out the bad in a misguided attempt at "fixing" them.

Over time, however, Apple learns that seeking to control others, especially those as bombastic and vibrant as his fellow recruiters, is a fruitless endeavor. As he interacts with the children, his colleagues, and the people of Disneyland, his personality softens, and he develops a friendlier nature towards his friends. He's still observant, calculating, and serious, mind you, but he's become much more obliging and helpful as a result of his growth.

Snow White: Apple's relationship towards the shamed princess is one of indifference. He doesn't necessarily "hate" her. If anything, he's morbidly fascinated and shocked by her honest and hopeful demeanor despite her circumstances. That doesn't mean he was merciful, however, as he is loyal to the queen above all else. He often, if secretly, gave her more chores to do, as he was curious as to how long it would take to break her spirit. It has never worked, which both frustrates and intrigues him. Over time, as he returns home and back again from his adventures with the recruiters, he and Snow White could develop a closer bond, and Apple could redeem himself for aiding in Snow's pain over the years. He could serve to protect Snow White, the dwarves, and/or the prince from the queen's wrath. He doesn't need her acknowledgment of his good deeds, but should she ever find out, he would be rewarded as the newly crowned king and queen's advisor and friend after Snow finally gains her happily ever after.

Evil Queen: As a creation of the wicked queen, Apple's loyalty and respect for Grimhilde is absolute. Because of Apple's blinding pride, he sees himself as more than just a minion for his queen. He views himself as her most trusted advisor and perhaps her son, as he could be a creation of hers depending on his backstory. Of course, that is not the case. As established in the movie, Grimhilde is a conniving, egotistical woman who has no qualms disposing of anyone who gets in her way of remaining the fairest in the land. For now, though, Apple is content with working as the queen's most trusted minion who works behind the scenes. He doesn't begin to question her rule until his multiple trips to the real world. During this, his unyielding loyalty strips away little by little as he now sees with clearer eyes just how petty and pathetic Grimhilde is. Now, it is up to Apple to decide where his loyalties stand.

Jack Heart: Jack and Apple have one of the more interesting relationships among the recruiters. Jack was Apple's introduction to the change in dynamics than the latter was used to. Back at home, Apple was feared. He was feared among most castle staff, peasants, even nobility. Nearly everyone found Apple to be unnerving. Jack, however, has the courage of a madman and is almost immune to Apple's threatening persona. Now, Apple has something he's never had before: an equal and opposite with whom he can bounce off from. Essentially, they fight like brothers who aim to claim superiority over. It's petty at times, with Apple teasing Jack for being shorter than him, and the latter criticizing Apple for his love of apple pie. However, they both secretly admire each other for a number traits the other wished he had.

Mr. Dalmatia: Apple finds Dalma to be only slightly less annoying than Jack, but that is merely because Dalma retains his dog-like characteristics. Even so, Apple does see the value of Dalma's playful nature given their job, and he sees the pooch's instinctual loyalty to his found family as admirable. As such, Apple tolerates the family dog, despite how he's equally at fault for the pranks Jack tends to pull.

Malfie (Malf): Malfie is actually the person who allows Apple to realize the inherent flaws of his mistress. Due to Malfie's narcissism and priorities over his beauty, he begins to connect the dots and comes to the conclusion that the queen could never care nor respect him. Thankfully, this newfound disgust of his mistress doesn't come back to bite Malfie, as Apple actually sees the good hidden beneath that flirtatious, self-centered persona. Although Malfie often annoys the elder, not only for joining in on the duo's shenanigans sometimes, but his open disgust for apple pie, he views Malfie as a friend whom he can trust. Which is saying a lot, given Apple's track record.

Eight foot Joe: Despite his apathetic nature towards guests, Joe has been deemed by Apple as one of his more competent colleagues. If anything, Apple admires Joe's work ethic, despite how irritating the cecaelian can be during the day after a long night of work. He often lectures Joe about the importance of sleep and gaining a better reputation amongst staff and guests. Though his advice often falls on deaf ears, Apple will join Ms. Hades and sometimes Jack in helping Joe finish his work. It's mostly to gesture to show his gratitude for being one of the more mature recruiters. All in all, the pair are fairly close, and are willing to help each other out. If it works in their favor, that is.

Pretty Scar: Pretty Scar has called herself the "baby of the family," and while Apple was dismissive of this notion at first, he can't help but reluctantly agree. Mzuri, in everyone's opinion, is annoying as the day is long, but that doesn't mean she's not both cute and persuasive when she wants to be. Her big baby doll eyes are something to be feared, and Apple, much like everyone else, can't resist them. Even so, Apple has enough willpower to say no to her most of the time. He goes from viewing her as an annoying pest, to a little sister. While he can be protective at times, Apple is well aware that Mzuri can take care of herself, which boosts her confidence to near astronomical levels since she's so used to being seen as weak back home. It's a very sweet dynamic.

Veil: Veil was a person of interest to Apple. As someone whose job it was to uncover secrets for the queen, Veil's mysterious nature intrigued Apple. However, he began to realize that Veil is simply a well-mannered young woman who's oblivious to social cues due to her sheltered religious upbringing. Unlike most of the cast, Veil is one of the few who's public about her respect for Apple, and that is something he appreciates. He finds her musical talents charming and amusing, but only up to a point. There's only so much singing a man can take in one day. They're not too close, but they mutually respect one another.

Lady Hock (Hook): While Apple's rivalry with Jack is the most well-known, the former has a second rivalry with Lady Hock. While Apple considers Hock to be less chaotic than Jack or Dalma, she is still a swashbuckling pirate who thrives off adventure. Of course, she's a bit mischievous. One of her favorite ways of teasing him is by stealing his apples and refusing to give them back. She keeps him on his toes, that's for sure, but he respects her a lot more than the others because she's a lot more mature than the boys.

Ms. Hades: While Apple is considered the father of the group, MH has been named the mother. Although he found her passive nature towards the antics of their coworkers unnecessary, he's found that her motto of letting them do their own thing was the right call. Eventually, they find a rhythm together in deciding when to be strict and when to be lenient. The one thing that Apple appreciates the most about MH is her wisdom. As a being who's thousands of years old, she's obviously gained experience, in spite of her residing in the Underworld. And as someone who's giving advice more often than not, Apple values that small token of friendship.

Faja (Farja): Faja is, to put it bluntly, a walking, squaking alarm clock. She and Pretty Scar tie in terms of who talks the most, and that's saying a lot. She's very vocal about what and who she finds frustrating and/or annoying, which was what she considered Apple to be. On the one hand, he admires her courage to stand up to him. On the other hand, he finds her extremely disrespectful and a massive joke since she's clearly inexperienced with magic, despite her bragging about herself being an expert. As time goes on, they find common ground, and Apple helping her practice her magic. He does so in exchange for a homemade apple pie, but it slowly becomes a fun activity for them both.

Overall: Apple Poison is a poised, prideful, sophisticated, yet dependable character who has become one of the staple recruiters at Disneyland. Although his found family drives him up the wall, he wouldn't trade such interesting friends for the world. But soon enough, he will need to choose who he shall stay loyal to: his newfound sensibilities and understanding of the world around him or his queen.

I honestly love the guy who played Apple Poison. You could tell that he was having fun. I'll start with guys, then the ladies, and finally, the hosts. Next up is Jack Heart!

Hope you guys enjoyed this! See you later, byeee!

[all-about-seggs]

A pact in blood-

Rating: 18+, Explicit

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader

Word count: ~3K

Warnings: Semi-incest (Satoru is your cousin/ distant relative), masturbation, Cunnilingus, fingering, hand job, the relationship is a bit messed up, yandereish undertones.

A/n: This takes place when he's still in the academy.* Image source*

“AA-ahhh! Please don’t- don’t stop…”,

Your broken pleas reverberated through the room as Satoru’s deft fingers worked their way in and out of your sopping wet hole. You gripped the sturdy jacket that covered his shoulders, folding the fabric between your fists was the only thing you could do to maintain the last shred of composure you had.

He was like a passing cloud who offered you momentary relief and was on his way as soon as your were done, the fragments of longings that remained on your body etched deeper after every night.

Position after position, he went from your pussy over his lips to eating you out ass up and face down, all for the pleasure you couldn’t seem to get by yourself. You were now splayed out on his lap, face buried in his neck and one arm draped over him for support. Waves of his sweet scent and the euphoria assaulting your senses at the same time, taking you closer and closer to the edge.

It’s been quite some time now but the memory of your first encounter with your unfairly gorgeous cousin Satoru has been etched into your mind as if it happened just yesterday.

You were in the manor of the esteemed Gojo clan for a family event and even though you didn’t shared the same surname you were related nonetheless and were hence invited. It was a four day and three night celebration where the entire place was abuzz with excitement.

It didn’t really mattered to you, being here with a go with a flow kind of attitude, you just minded your own business until spoken to and not mingling with the faceless crowd of people you didn’t even knew the names of.

Thankfully your room was in the separate building which was a little bit further from where all the riotous events centered around. After just half a day of being in the middle of the chaos you wanted to find a way to unwind and that’s when it happened.

Stark naked and two fingers up your little cunt, there was no explaining or bullshitting your way out of this situation when the heir of the household, Satoru Gojo himself walked in in you. Feeble attempts to cover yourself and half hearted stutterings died in your mouth as soon as the young man opened his.

“ Wrong”, the deadpan reply of his made your already shaken up state worsen. Panic flooding in your system begged you to make excuses or atleast request him to not speak of this to anyone, after all families of high status are nothing if not conservative and you didn’t wanted to cause anyone any trouble.

“ I meant, y/n chan, that you’re doing it wrong”, not paying any mind to your internal conflict he continued speaking form where he stood near the door, “ don’t you know how to masturbate? I thought you were in highschool?”

His genuinely perplexed tone made you reconsider your previous opinions about the heir to the clan. Satoru, a guy who walked in on a relative masturbating, was supposed to show courtesy and leave the second he entered but instead he was rating your technique, which in all honesty may have been lacking indeed but you were desperate to cum and he seemed to pick up on that.

“ Since you’re clearly having trouble getting off”, he loosened the obi of his particularly formal kimono and shifted his uncovered ocean blue eyes towards your form, “Want me to teach you?”, his question made you gulp, then gauge your eyeballs out in disbelief. Sure you weren’t closely related and have only spoken once or twice but you attended all the occasions and holiday celebrations at their place and knew that your relationship was only platonic. His offer to cross that line made you flinch back at first.

Heaving a sigh he closed the door and sat cross legged on the tatami mat next to your futon.

“ Relax, t’s not a big deal”, flashing a toothy grin he leaned forward until your noses touched.

“ Afterall, I AM your big brother”

“ wait- you’re also in highschool!”, You retorted, “ I bet you’re a virgin too. So what CAN you teach me anyway?”, overcoming the initial embarrassment, your mouth started moving in its own accord only getting encouraged by his laid back demeanor.

“ Pfttt- so you get defensive when cornered? How cute!”, he giggled, a smile teasing at his lips at your obvious attempt to hide the shame burning in your core.

“Don’t worry, I know my way around a pussy just fine”, light hearted words fell effortlessly from his mouth and you could swear half of your brain was short circuiting because of his crude way of speaking. For all his regal appearance, he was just like any other highschooler, a year older than you but his stature and delicate features gave him a magestic aura that exceeds that of people decades older than him.

Just by the few encounters from the past, you figured he wasn’t one for following traditions or rules if it didn’t suit him. He was way above the rest, in his own distant world everytime you saw him, the school he went to, the things he had experienced were all different.

Forgetting the other's existence after passing each other by with a few formalities exchanged was all you had done with each. You two were never close or even friends but now the chance presented itself to take your non existent relationship to the extreme end through your bodies.

You wanted this.

To feel good. The hormones of youth pumping your impulsiveness you relax your muscles and lie on your back. You could clearly hear Satoru’s playfully indifferent chuckle from above when you slowly part your legs to show him the sides of yourself that even you have never completely seen.

“Just this once, okay?”

He said he was just teaching you how to masturbate but it wasn’t that simple. The only person to get naked was you and the only person who experienced the mind numbing pleasure, was also you. He only needed his deft fingers and mouth to make you feel better and for a while you didn’t even question.

That one lesson of self pleasure which you both were supposed to forget turned into an entire session as day after day Satoru would show up at your parents house unbeknownst to a soul and you both crossed the same lines of platonic relationship everyday.

The euphoria was endless but with a single rule that you weren’t allowed to touch him in turn and it goes without saying that the two of you never went all the way. It would always start with small talks about the day, even when you’d be talking, all your focus was on what was to come next.

That’s why after a few weeks of the detached pleasure he provided you, it got you thinking what he actually wanted from you. Satoru had already seen, touched and tasted all your body had to offer, never revealing any of his own.

You wondered if he ever felt sexually frustrated by always giving and never asking for anything in return. You knew he was not THAT nice. At least that’s what you believed considering his sadistic streak in bed. He did seem to be enjoying himself when he's messing you up so maybe he didn’t have many sexual urges that he needed to satisfy and was just acting on curiosity or maybe he had someone else, someone older with more experience who he didn’t constantly had a upper hand with and was able to see them as an equal. This thought alone made your chest tight, with an unnatural pain that threatened to break your heart.

You had to catch your darkening train of thought before it reached to the conclusion you were most afraid of. Knowing full well that this was just a fleeting moment that is only supposed to be enjoyed through a lens of carefree thinking, you push the budding feelings of the some very complicated emotions out of your system. The surge of jealousy you felt may have born out of falling in love with a family member but it was wrong on so many levels.

A love that starts with lust never ends well for anyone but as you were laying in his arms, the control over your body handed completely to him, your mind wondered how things would feel vice versa.

“ You seem distracted y/n”, Satoru looked at you, with his glasses off the beautiful azure eyes hidden beneath a delicate layer of white eyelashes filled your vison.

“ I’m obviously not doing it right if you have time to get lost in your thoughts”, putting you down on your bed, he started to move away and for a minute you got your hopes up, thinking your chance to finally have him completely and you cursed yourself for wanting at the same time. But no amount of berating would scrub off the insatiable thirst you had, for its roots had already made their way to your heart.

“Please let me help you too”, these few words took a lot of guts, letting go of all the inhibitions and threads of morality you fix Satoru with an unwavering gaze.

“ That’s okay babygirl, I’M the one who does the teaching here afterall”, you saw what he was trying to do, his airy yet gentle tone didn’t left much room for argument but the gray zone of your relationship was blurring to the point of confusion urged you to give into your clamoring emotions.

Without a second thought you jumped on him with all your might, closing the distance he put within seconds to cover his mouth with yours. You knew how much you weighed but despite your aggressive actions his sturdy form didn’t even deter form his position while catching you. You twirled your tongue over the roof of his mouth, the taste of your juices still lingering in there.

Hoping to have proven your resolve that wasn’t going to settle for getting brushed aside you break the kiss and look expectantly at him. An invisible bond between the two of you taking shape, strengthening the magnetism that attracted you to him.

“ That eager for my cock are you?”, Taking your face in one of his huge hand he makes you look straight at him, “You really want more? More than I'm already giving you?”, just one more push. You thought, with just a bit of coaxing, you were sure Satoru's wishy washy rules would crumble to make way for your upcoming actions.

“ I do. I know exactly what I want but”, steeling your nerves you face him, eye to eye, “ What do YOU want?”. The question was simple but the conflict swirling within Satoru’s eyes was evident and for the first time you realised that maybe this wasn’t just a case of casual hookup for him as well.

“ I want all your firsts. That’s all.” After a short stretch of silence he spoke, ironically the borderline obsessiveness of his glib response, like magic, cleared away the fog was previously clouding your mind. The nonchalance of his smirk should've been the red flag that made you rethink your life choices but the heat of the moment only seemed to ignite your lust.

Not uttering a single word, you quickly work on shedding him off his cloths, he doesn’t make any attempts at stopping you this time around, this knowledge pulling a smile out of you. By the time you reached for his boxers your hands were shaking.

Whether from excitement or nervousness you couldn’t tell but looking down through the veil of his heavy eyelashes, Satoru’s passion was evident.

Eyeing up his exposed body you still for a moment to take it all in. You ran you hands through his sculpted chest and down to his abdomen, your nails scratching the surface of his defined muscles. All of his masculinity contrasted with his oddly sweet scent and velvety pink lips that never failed to lure you in for deep soft kisses.

There’s no doubt girls must be always fawning over him and his perfectly smooth skin was something that even made you jealous. You were so captivated by his looks that you had to shake yourself free from your lovesick stupor .

You feel him up a little, hands running across his toned chest, you drag your nails through the rise and dips of his abdomen down to the contours of his defined V- line before turning your attention to his hardening member. Your breath quickens as your trembling fingers hook beneath his waistband.

Taking out his pulsating member you run your eyes up and down his entire length. He was big, to say at the very least. Bigger than you'd expected and more than you thought you could handle but backing out now would be straight up hypocrisy when your drooling mouth said otherwise.

With your ass right next to his chest, you start licking and sucking his tip with fervour, not wanting to waste even a single drop of his cum that you wanted so bad. You heard him moan lightly behind you, his voice only fuelled the fire that was burning your core. Having never given a blow job to anyone before you struggled in keeping a steady pace and his girthy cock didn’t make it any easier on you.

In just a few minutes you jaw ached and your entire face hurted but Satoru showed no signs of cumming.

In your own world again, you racked up your brain to figure out how to please him when suddenly you felt a hand climbing up your thigh. With the other hand he gripped your hips and pulled your lower half until you were straddling his mouth.

“ It’s a lot better like this don’t you think?”, as he spoke you felt his breath caressing your nether lips and you shivered in delight at the new position.

He snaked his hands in between your thighs and spread open your slit, glistening with your dripping arousal using his thumbs. Every single fold of yours now in display Satoru licked his plush lips before leaving open mouthed kisses on the exposed skin. His lips pulling out a series of appreciative hums as you desperately try to focus on your own actions.

Taking his hard length half in your mouth and half in one of your hand you tried to match the skilful movements of Satoru’s tongue that relentlessly lapped at your clit. After a few minutes of trying and failing to suck him up properly your senses got completely clouded by the heavy onslaught of that familiar release you had gotten used to.

You wanted to ask him to stop so you catch up to him but he the vigor in his actions and your own overwhelming surge of desires made you decide against it, the broken stings of his name died down with you still half choking on his length.

The only thing your lust laden mind could decipher except for pleasure was shame. To you, it was shameful how, being the one who asked to touch him, you were the one tethering near the edge. Before long your convulsing pussy was dripping with your juices, trickling down from his face that was still buried nose deep in your crotch.

Messing you up always filled Satoru with a kind of affection that he didn’t thought he was capable of.

Your cute whines getting muffled by his cock that you could only take half way past your llip sent waves of ecstasy down his spine. The cum that kept on flowing from your aching hole that he was the first to taste and the last as well took him to a high that no amount of pleasure could.

He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be the provider of your everything who had complete control over you or if he just wanted to spend hours into the night, praising every fibre of your being that was so eager to make him feel good. This duality of his thoughts confused him further and in that moment he knew he had to see this to the end.

Your heavy pants was the only thing that could be heard in the otherwise silent room, guilt and pleasure leaving you tongue tied. You move yourself from above him, your quivering body falling like a sac just beside his own.

“ I’m sorry! I couldn’t make you-“, before you could finish your breathy apology he brought up a finger near your frowning lips to quite you down.

“Its okay sugar, it was your first time. Not a big deal.”, the soft notes of his voice took the edge off of the disappointment you felt, “I told you. I’ll teach you everything.”

Those eyes. Two shining orbs of brilliant blue gazed at you in the same way you found yourself staring at him. Watching over you like it was their birthright and oddly enough, the scrutiny made you feel completly at home just like the warmth of his long arms that wrapped themselves around you.

" Realx Y/n, I'll be very thourough with my teaching, afterall,", your heart thumped loudly in your chest in response to his smooth voice, "I don't do things halfway.

The pleasent fatigue that had taken a hold of your body slowly dissipated but the growing haziness of your mind got you wondering if you were falling in deepness of his ocean blue eyes but as soon realization hit you, you were already halfway through blacking out.

That you’d never be forgiven for wanting.

From that moment on, you knew.

Part 2? Idk you tell me(╯︵╰,)

[emeraldiis]

Mirrorball // I

A/N: there will be a part two!! dont worry!!

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Reader hides her insecurity under a guise of unwavering happiness, but Loki ends up finding out the truth. Meanwhile, Loki struggles with feeling worthy of love.

Warnings: suicidal ideation, insecurity, misunderstandings, angst

Loki wasn’t sure why you lived with the Avengers. Sure, you were one hell of a good cook, and you bartended at Tony’s numerous parties, but surely you could do that while having a place of your own. Normally, Loki wouldn’t have given a second thought to where somebody chose to reside--even if he couldn’t understand people’s willingness to be anywhere near Stark--but you were driving him insane.

When Loki had first arrived at the tower, it had been a cruel and unusual punishment. House arrest at the very place that he suffered a humiliating defeat, with the very heroes that had defeated him. Of course, not many people were very welcoming. He was permitted to roam about the tower as long as he stayed on good behavior, but that didn’t mean all residents were alright with it. 

Stark was the easiest to deal with; his jokes and quips about Loki’s unfortunate ventures to rule, well, anything stung, but the malice behind them faded with every passing day. After all, it had been a long time since New York. Banner and Wanda were another story. They treated him politely enough, but the fear behind their eyes whenever he passed by made something rotten stir in his gut. No matter how much he attempted to redeem himself, people still saw him as evil. A villain.

It seemed as if Steve and Thor were the only ones glad to have him there. The Captain’s open arms had come as a surprise, but Loki was intuitive, and very quickly realized that Steve saw him in the same light as he did the Winter Soldier, Bucky. And in a way, Loki could see the similarities. They had both done awful things--albeit under far different circumstances--and were now working on gaining the trust of the ones kind enough to give them a second chance.

So Loki found himself seeking out Bucky’s company far more often than any of his other acquaintances. It was a strange sort of companionship, but it worked; Bucky usually opted to listen instead of speak, giving Loki the opportunity to ramble on about whatever grievances he held that week. There were usually a lot, and Bucky was the only one who didn’t offer him useless advice. He simply nodded along, fixing Loki with that thousand yard stare until he had finished.

And then, of course, there was you. All smiles and playful energy, with a raunchy sense of humor and a sharp tongue. You were much smaller than him, in terms of height and stature, but he often felt dwarfed when you were in the room. You just took up so much space with that reckless attitude and need for everyone in the room to be laughing. In an odd sort of way, you reminded him of a clown. Not because you were goofy, or funny looking, no. You just...made people smile, held their attention and made it your dying goal to be there for entertainment. 

The first time Loki had seen you, he was quick to notice your easy beauty. It was rare that he found a Midgardian woman to be attractive, but he couldn’t deny that something about you just appealed to him. You weren’t a supermodel, nor were you drop-dead gorgeous in terms of Midgardian standards, but you had a very real-life grace. You didn’t look like those dolled up actresses he often saw on the television, you looked more natural, something that instantly caught Loki’s eye.

He had been reading quietly in the common room of the Stark Tower, having been forced out of his room by Thor to “at least be present, brother.” The other Avengers droned on about petty events while he attempted to tune them out. And then you stormed in, bringing a sense of excitement to the room with your very aura.

You greeted each person individually, making sure no hero was left out, until your eyes settled on him. Loki felt a heat rise in his cheeks under your intense gaze, and shifted uncomfortably. He brushed off the feeling as it simply had been a while since he had spoken to an attractive woman, not wanting to admit to himself the effect your presence had on him.

“New guy, Loki, psycho murderer,” you rattled off, still staring him down. Loki felt as if you were a cat, and he was the poor mouse that you had selected as your new plaything. “Which do you prefer?”

That caught him off guard. While he was still somewhat unfamiliar with Midgard’s social customs, he was at least sure that this was not a normal way to greet a stranger. That, and the disrespect warred with what he was used to: women on Asgard bowing to him, treating him with the dignity that a prince deserved. Despite the surprise, Loki’s aloof outer demeanor was not shaken, and he let the strangeness of it all roll off his back as he replied, “How about ‘God of Mischief?’ Or, if that is a bit too wordy, I would be open to ‘King Loki.’”

 Your eyes lit up, and Loki found himself having to fight back a smile. His unconscious reaction left him feeling confused and slightly frustrated. Why was this mortal girl sending his emotions in a whirl? Loki scrambled for some sort of reasoning that didn’t have him looking pathetic, and settled on the idea that it had been a while since he had bed a woman, and you were particularly attractive. It only made sense that his body would react in ways that he had not expected.

Lost in his head, Loki barely noticed you were speaking again. “I like this one!” You said, clearly excited that he had matched your banter with ease. “New best friend acquired.”

Once again, you had left Loki reeling. Best friend? He wasn’t sure if he had ever had one of those before, and certainly not with someone he had just met. In fact, he wasn’t entirely positive that he even wanted one. Especially in the form of some over-enthusiastic mortal. Before he could protest, you plopped yourself down next to him on the couch. It wasn’t a very big piece of furniture, so when you settled into your seat, you were only a couple inches away from touching Loki. 

He could feel the heat radiating off of your body, and once again, his heart fluttered. The urge to lean into you overwhelmed him, and Loki furrowed his eyebrows. God, had it really been that long since he had been with someone? The frustration at his stupid body for its stupid needs grew, and Loki made up his mind then and there. He would court you, then fuck you, and get over this silly little infatuation. With your earlier outburst at wanting to befriend him, Loki figured that it would be a breeze. With his silvertongue and charming good looks, he would have you squirming under him in no time. Easy.

But, of course, nothing was ever easy for Loki. You had managed to prove him quite wrong over the next few weeks. Your obliviousness to flirting was quite impressive, Loki found, despite even his most direct attempts. Every advance he made was thwarted by complete, and utter ignorance, coupled with the fact that you had probably not taken a single thing seriously in your entire life. 

Loki would compliment you, and you’d grin wolfishly and twist it to make his words sound insulting, then cackling madly. And then was the time he “joked,” about getting you into his bed, to which you burst into a fit of giggles and said, “No way! I don’t want to be the other woman to Bucky!”

Loki had recoiled in bewilderment, and decided that enough was enough. Obviously you weren’t worth the effort, considering you never actually listened to anything he said. He’d just have to find someone who was capable of holding a conversation without turning something into a joke.

But...he couldn’t deny that he was constantly having to fight back a laugh at your remarks, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that you were annoying, not funny. And even when he had abandoned his plot to seduce you, Loki found himself gravitating towards you. Truth be told, he knew how to be direct, to really get what he wanted, but every time he worked up the courage to just lean in and kiss you...something stopped him. Deep down, he knew that if you actually rejected him, then the game would be over, and something about that just seemed devastating to Loki. So he continued with cat and mouse, letting you deflect his advances time after time, because at least you weren’t actually saying no.

He’d wander in the kitchen while you were cooking, sit down to watch your favorite shows and movies, and had even taken to sitting on the roof with you late at night when neither of you could sleep. Loki couldn’t avoid it anymore. It wasn't a simple attraction that he felt, it was adoration. You, a mortal of all creatures, had captured his interest. Maybe it was your wit. Maybe it was your unshakable happiness, the ability to keep everyone’s spirits up in any situation. Maybe it was the crushing need to protect you, to protect that pure soul from the viciousness of the universe. Whatever it was, you had actually ended up as Loki’s best friend. And somewhere along the line, he had fallen in love.

You sat in the living room alone, knees curled up to your chest on the couch. The four walls of your room had felt confining, like a prison cell that kept getting smaller. Your usual place of refuge would be the roof. But you didn’t dare venture up there like this. With your luck, Loki would find you there, and you weren’t sure if you had the strength to keep up your carefree persona.

Loki had never seen you upset before, never seen you weak. No one had, if you were honest. You fought hard to keep a smile plastered on your cheeks to keep up the appearance of a girl who never faltered with her high spirits. In a way, it wasn’t entirely fake. Joking around and being joyous was your real personality, but it was also a defense mechanism. If you never took anything seriously, nothing would ever hurt. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. The anxiety that wrecked your brain stayed constant, though, making your life a constant war with your own mind.

Your friendship with Loki was a fragile one, or at least it felt that way. You often felt as if you were walking on eggshells; every word that came out of your mouth risked driving him away. He had seemed to enjoy your wild and snarky personality when you first met him, so you didn’t dare try to be anything else. You were afraid that he would lose all interest when he discovered that you were just as fragile as all mortals were.

It was risky having your breakdown out in one of the main rooms, but the risk was better than dealing with the claustrophobia of your lonely bedroom. Besides, it wasn’t like you were going to sleep anyway. Better to just wait for daylight where you could at least feel some modicum of safety.

In your misery, you had forgotten that Loki was not an easy being to hide from. You were pretty sure that it was damn near impossible, actually. He seemed to...sense...your emotions, when you were in distress. And though you never showed it, kept that unwavering smile plastered across your face, he always appeared when you needed a friend to sit with. Tonight was no different.

Like a shadow, Loki emerged from the hallway in front of you, piercing eyes quickly landing on your curled up form in the darkness. He raised an eyebrow at you when you refused to even acknowledge him. “Dear, would you like to go up to the roof? Away from prying ears?” He offered.

You shook your head, and shrunk further into yourself when he crossed the room to sit next to you. Loki looked a little uneasy, as it was rare that you were silent. Usually, he had to fight to get a word in when you were on a tangent. Not that he minded too much. Though he liked to talk, he held a certain fondness for listening to you.

Loki tried again to engage you. “Why not? I know it’s a bit chilly tonight, but you’ve never minded that before."

It was clear that the god wasn’t going away until you gave him some kind of response, so you gritted your teeth and lied. “Sorry, bud. I just feel sick, that’s all.” You forced a laugh, but it sounded strained. “I’d rather stay close to the bathroom. I’m not sure Tony would be too excited if I puked on his roof.”

Blue eyes stared into yours, and you could literally feel Loki not believing you. Of course the God of Mischief would be able to spot a lie from a mile away. Still, he didn’t push the subject, something that you were grateful for. “Alright,” he said, leaning back into the couch. “Would you like me to sit with you?”

Fuck, you didn’t want to have to reject his company a second time, but you really needed to be alone right now. Loki seeing you have a meltdown would be the last straw, and you’d just end up throwing yourself off of the Stark Tower. No, it was better this way. “That’s okay, you get some rest. I’m not gonna keep you up for something so small.” You still hadn’t looked up, afraid that Loki would see the glimmer of tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. “Besides, you need your beauty sleep,” you tried to tease, but your voice came out flat and dull.

Loki thought for a second, then sighed. “As your king, I override your decision. I will be staying here until you’re feeling well enough to sleep.” He waited expectantly, obviously ready for you to make some bratty quip about not being one of his subjects, but it never came. You just didn’t have it in you.

Now that Loki had fully sunk down on the couch, his body was only inches from yours. You wanted so badly to lean into the heat of his side, to bury your face in the crook of his neck and let him cuddle your fears away. Instead of following your instincts, you squashed the daydream like a pesky bug. Nothing about Loki indicated that he was the cuddling type. Hell, he’d never so much as hugged you. He probably wasn’t a big fan of physical touch.

Deep breaths, you told yourself. Just keep it together until you’re on your own. That’s when you stiffened. Loki had stretched a long arm around you, and was looking at you intently to gauge your reaction.

“Is this okay? Humans are very social creatures, touch can help provide some comfort if you’re feeling ill.”

Loki’s scientific approach to the entire situation almost made you break out into laughter. Almost. Regardless, it was too hard to resist when you had such an open invitation. You scooted closer to the god and leaned against him, letting Loki hold you tight.

Before you could even try to stop yourself, you had burst into sobs. Something about being held had just broken the dam, and you were weeping uncontrollably into Loki’s shirt, sputtering out apologies all the while.

Loki shushed you and held you tighter, and you could’ve sworn that you felt an aura of possessiveness in his embrace. “It’s okay,” he murmured into your hair. “I’m here to help.”

You didn’t know how long you cried for, but when you were finally able to rein in the tears, you were horrified. Loki’s shirt was soaked with snot and tears, and your face was most definitely swollen and blotchy with red spots. And, worst of all, you had just proven to him that you were weak, and not worth his time. This was a disaster. 

Loki, hearing your sniffling come to a stop, pulled away to look at you, and bit his lip nervously before beginning to speak. “There’s something I must confess to you. Seeing you now, trusting me with your vulnerability-”

You cut him off by jumping up from your seat, knocking his arms away from you. Like hell you were going to listen to the rest of his rejection. You already knew what he was going to say. That you were weak, that he no longer wanted anything to do with you. “Listen, Loki,” you snarled, unable to mask the pain in your voice. “You don’t have to say it, I get it. I’m gonna go to bed, you don’t have to hang out with me anymore,” you said, rushing to get the words out before you died from humiliation.

Loki watched in bewilderment, his words of affection dying on his lips and you turned tail and ran out of the room. Rejected? By a mortal? He had never known such embarrassment. And you hadn’t even had the good graces to let him finish. His heart began to darken with rage and shame. Of course you ran away, of course you didn’t want to be with someone like him. No one did, he should be used to this kind of treatment by now. How foolish of him to think that you would be any different.

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

Dear Heart - CH 12

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​​​ @primusk​​ @itswormtrain​​​ @hesbuckcompton-baby​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 5k (another doozy but omg a lot has to happen okay? they have to talk, Dick has to be a simp, it’s important to the plot)

A/N: Thank you again to @mercurygray​​​​ for being a wonderful beta reader, as always <3

Warning(s): Descriptions of an assault

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 11

Chapter 12 here we go!!

A warm spring began in Germany, welcoming the American invaders with its beautiful scenery and pleasant weather. Melanie wondered how people who lived in such a lovely place could have begun a war that was so terrible. The regiment came to a long stop in a town called Sturzelberg, where there was a hospital, and Melanie finally felt like a regular nurse again. She even got to change out of her OD’s and into her nursing uniform dress. It was wrinkled from the journey in her bag, rolled up at the bottom until she could wear it again. It was somewhat of a homecoming, though it seemed a different girl stepped into it. Not even a girl at all, really. A grown woman. A changed woman. 

Her and Juliet’s billet had a mirror, so she took the opportunity to really look at herself for the first time in weeks. Though she was clean, she looked tired. She didn’t have much color to her face, and she had lost more weight. She frowned at her reflection, hearing her mother loud and clear in her mind. To her surprise, she voiced what she heard. 

“Thin and pale,” she murmured. “That won’t do.”

Juliet looked up from her notebook. “I beg your pardon?” 

Melanie did not reply. She was too busy pinching her cheeks along the bone, giving them a semblance of rosiness. It was an old trick, but a useful one. So was chewing one’s lips to make them red if one didn’t have any rouge, which was her next task.

“Mel, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Juliet demanded, getting to her feet. 

“Making myself somewhat presentable,” Melanie answered. “Now that we’re back in relative comfort, I’ve got no excuse for walking around looking like a rag doll.” 

Juliet scoffed in disbelief. Then she stood in front of Melanie, took her by the shoulders, and looked into her eyes, searching. 

“What are you doing?” Melanie asked. 

“I’m looking for Melanie Davis, I hope she’s still in there,” Juliet returned. 

It occurred to Melanie that Juliet had only known the exhausted, wounded Melanie from weeks at war and no sleep. Already a little jaded from the amount of wounded who passed through. Of course she didn’t recognize the Melanie from before - who lived with constant reminders of femininity and vanity she’d had ingrained in her since childhood. 

She rolled her eyes and dislodged herself from Juliet’s grip. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s me.” 

“You’ve been through hell on Earth,” Juliet pointed out. “Who cares what you look like?”

Melanie hadn’t thought of it that way. And she had certainly not had many experiences of criticism being met with compassion. She didn’t always feel she deserved compassion - she was happy to give it to others but for herself? Perfection only. It was hitting her now what an impossible standard she was holding herself to. 

“Oh, I must sound awfully vain,” Melanie sighed. “I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it if I prefer feeling feminine. I can’t believe how much I took for granted just having lipstick or nail polish.” 

“Obviously, you can enjoy those things, but I cannot stand by and let you say that you ‘won’t do,’” Juliet replied. “You’re a beautiful woman, with or without lipstick.” 

Melanie looked at the floor and fixed her clothes. “That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

She was unused to getting such compliments. Her mother had always fixated on Melanie’s looks, though she had never been insulting. It was always reassurance that she was pretty enough to “catch a husband.” But, as she had pointed out to herself, there was more to the world than all that. The war was still on. She had a job to do. 

“Alright, I’m off to work,” she said. “It feels mighty fine to be saying that again.” 

She forced herself to smile, putting all thoughts of her appearance behind her. She just needed to get back to a hospital and work with patients so she could start feeling like herself again. Juliet wished her luck, and then Melanie was off. 

***

As they made their way deeper into Germany, Dick’s inner conflict deepened, too. Melanie’s condition, her moods and general demeanor, seemed to improve, while Lew seemed to get steadily worse. The day of the jump (which he was still a bit bitter to have missed, despite its outcome), when Dick had to tell his best friend about his demotion, he was disturbed by Nix’s non-reaction, followed by flippant remarks to disguise a frustration he clearly would not voice. Dick sought out the only person he felt he could talk to about his concerns - Melanie. 

He went first to her billet. The day was drawing to a close, so he assumed she would be back by now from the hospital. Juliet opened the door and looked surprised to see him.

“Oh! Hello, Major,” she said. 

“Is Melanie here?” he asked, getting right to the point. 

“No, she hasn’t come back from the hospital yet,” she told him. “Is everything alright? Did you have something...important to tell her?” 

She raised a knowing eyebrow at him and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. At this point, he wasn’t sure who was more invested in his relationship with Melanie - Nix or Juliet. He wondered what might have happened if she had been around to help orchestrate the Paris trip. For now, he let it slide.  

“I just want to talk to her,” he said. “Thanks, though.” 

“Worth a shot,” she said under her breath. “Well, let me know if we need to send out a search party.” 

“Will do,” he said, amused. “See you later.”

She nodded in return and closed the door. Dick headed to the hospital. He looked forward to seeing Melanie - he always did. He just wished his friends would see that, and realize it was enough for now. There was enough understanding between them that they were pretty well aware of what they felt for each other. At least, Dick was sure he understood. But there was still a war, and that wasn’t really the place for romance. 

By the time he arrived at the hospital, he had pushed his frustrations with his friends to the back of his mind. In the first ward, he found Melanie, in a chair beside a patient’s bed, a deck of cards between them on a tray, and laughter on her face. The patient pulled a card from his hand and laid it down, which made Melanie’s jaw drop. 

“Another red three?” she gasped. “I think it’s very clear how this game is going to end.” 

“You’ve still got a chance, Miss Melanie,” he replied through a thick Southern accent. “One good hand and you could turn this whole thing around.” 

“Well, lucky for you, my hand isn’t anything to write home about,” she returned, frowning at it. “Draw your cards, Sergeant.”

He reached for the deck and picked up three cards, adding them to his hand. Dick watched the game play out for a moment - the sergeant discarded, Melanie drew two, then she discarded, and the sergeant drew again. All the while, Melanie talked to the man. He was missing his right leg up to the thigh - and a fleeting image of Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye passed through Dick’s mind. But judging by this soldier’s attitude, no one would have guessed anything was the matter with him. The way he smiled and chuckled at Melanie’s praise, he didn’t seem to notice that he was even in a hospital bed. 

Dick’s heart was warmed by the sight. Melanie really was back to her old self. She was off duty, and yet she sat with a man she didn’t know to bring him some small comfort. A simple card game. A chance for him to feel normal again, even for a few moments. Dick wasn’t sure which he admired more - her selflessness or how happy she looked to be where she was. The grin on her face gave away that she considered it no trouble to play a game with a patient when her rounds were over. She was genuinely glad to do it. Dick hoped Toye and Guarnere had similarly wonderful nurses wherever they were. 

“A canasta already?” she cried as Dick approached. “If you go out on me with all this in my hand, Sergeant, I’ll be finished for sure!”

She discarded and then finally, she looked up. She caught Dick’s eye as he took some tentative steps toward her, hesitant to interrupt. But she beamed at him, so he assumed he was welcome. 

“Good evening, Dick,” she said kindly. 

The sergeant turned and saw Dick, so he offered a quick salute. “Good evening, sir,” 

“Good evening,” Dick returned politely. “Sorry to interrupt.” 

“Not at all,” Melanie assured him. “Dick, this is Sergeant Samson - the finest canasta player in the US Army. Sergeant, this is Major Winters.” The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Then she met Dick’s gaze again. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, and found himself regretting coming at all. She was busy, and he felt foolish for disrupting her moment of joy. “I can come back later, though -” 

“Actually, sir, I’m about ready for some sleep if Miss Melanie will let me off the hook,” Samson said. 

She cast him a playful look. “I see how you operate, Samson. Quit while you’re ahead, that way you don’t lose.”

He laughed, a bit bashful at her teasing, but she collected the cards all the same, and set them aside. 

“We’ll play again tomorrow if you like,” she offered.

“Of course,” he returned. “That is, if you enjoy losing that much!” 

She feigned offense while he chuckled some more. Then she fluffed his pillows and pulled the blankets up to his chest. Dick watched and felt a familiar stir in his heart of affection for her. She was the most beautiful person he had ever had the pleasure of knowing - and that did not just apply to her pretty face. Melanie was a sweet soul, a nurturing heart, and a bright mind. She was a high quality person. And tiny moments like this showed that to him more than anything. 

“Can I get you anything else before I go?” she offered Samson. 

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” 

“Good night, Sergeant,” she said. 

“Good night, ma’am, sir.” 

Dick nodded in acknowledgement before offering Melanie his arm, which she took, and they left the ward together. It struck him that her touch no longer made him so nervous. It thrilled him - even after knowing each other for years - but it was comfortable now. As if the crook of his arm was made for her hand. It was natural. 

“Is everything alright, Dick?” she asked as they stepped outside. “You seem troubled.”

He didn’t consider himself a particularly emotive person, but Melanie never failed to pick up on what he was feeling. Especially when he needed her. 

“It’s Nix,” he said. “His drinking...it’s become such a problem up at regiment that he was demoted today. When I told him that, he didn’t even seem to care.”

Melanie’s brows furrowed and she looked thoughtfully ahead. “I’m sorry to hear that. Lewis is a good man and a fine officer. I would have thought he’d be more invested.” 

“Well, in his defense, he’d just come back from that disaster of a jump,” Dick said. 

“What disaster of a jump?” she wondered. 

He told her what Nix had relayed to him - that the troopers didn’t even make it out of the plane. The CO was killed. Nix and just a handful of others survived out of sheer luck. 

“Oh, how awful,” she said, heartbroken.

 There really could be no moment between them where the war did not rear its ugly head, Dick thought bitterly. No matter what, there was some news of tragedy. Death sank its teeth into even a simple evening stroll. He decided to steer the conversation back to its original subject. 

“Seeing Lew like this just has me worried,” he said. “I feel like he’s close to spiraling, and I don’t have a clue what to do. I thought it was just a bad habit, but now...” he trailed off, unsure what to call his friend’s profound issue. 

“I’m afraid there isn’t much you can do,” Melanie told him. “Nix is...troubled, and he has his coping mechanism. Unless he wants to quit drinking, there’s nothing you - or anybody - can do to stop him from picking that bottle up again.”

Once again, he was being told to do nothing - frustrating and impossible advice. He had hoped for more from her. 

“What you can do,” she went on, and he felt a glimmer of hope again. “Is make yourself available to him. Let him know - subtly, of course - that you’re ready if and when he’ll need you. Eventually, it will come to a head, and he’ll need people in his corner that he can truly rely on.” 

“It still sounds like doing nothing,” he said, defeated. 

“I know you’re a man of action, Dick, but this will take patience,” she returned, understanding. 

He didn’t answer right away, still a bit frustrated. He also took a moment to look at her. The dim twilight was flattering on her skin. A cool breeze made her flyaway hairs stir around her head. She looked a bit like a painting with the Bavarian backdrop behind her. It struck him again how much he loved her. She met his gaze. 

“Dick?” 

He shook his head to clear it, though appreciating her beauty had eased some of his irritation about Nix. 

“Sorry,” he said. “You look nice tonight, that’s all.” 

“Thank you,” she said, blushing lightly. “I’m feeling much better now that we’ve got more food and I’m back in a hospital.” 

He had noticed her improvement over the past few days. Her cheeks were rounding out again, and she didn’t look so tired. Her bruises were gone, too. 

“I feel a bit silly,” she admitted. “I was fussing over how I looked when we first got here because I didn’t have lipstick or nail polish. What a ridiculous thing to worry about.” 

Melanie always looked natural, so he tried to remember the last time he saw her looking nicer than usual. It was Paris. Which was beginning to feel decades in the past instead of just months.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he assured her. “Silly, I’ll give you, but ridiculous is a strong word.” 

“Alright, silly it is then,” she teased back with a smile, and he ached at how much he adored it. 

They reached her billet, stopped outside the door, and faced each other. 

“This takes me back,” she said. “All the way to Aldbourne.” 

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I don’t think I’d recognize those two kids.” 

“Me neither,” she chuckled. “So much has happened. But, I…” 

He looked expectantly at her as she trailed off and gathered her thoughts. Her brow furrowed, which told him she was searching for the right words. 

“I am so grateful we’re still friends,” she said. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I could have made it this far.”

It was his turn to get flustered. For a moment, he stood there silently, a bit lost for words. It was such an honest and wonderful thing to say. How could he return that sentiment?

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m grateful too, Mel,” he said, feeling the understatement like an itch on his skin. “Really.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, smiling. “On that pleasant note, shall we say goodnight? Unless there’s anything else?”

He shook his head. “Thanks for listening. As always.” 

They said goodnight, and she went inside, no doubt to chat to Juliet before climbing into bed and settling in. Dick wanted only for Melanie to be safe and comfortable, especially after everything she’d been through. He hoped that after the war, she could end her days in his arms instead of alone, he could tell her plainly how much she meant to him, and that he could be her true refuge. Until then, his mind went to lipstick and nail polish…

The following day, on his way to HQ, he found some. An abandoned drug store sat on the intersection he crossed, and there were a few enlisted men already scrounging around inside, claiming whatever they could find. He normally wasn’t one for taking souvenirs, but he was more compelled by the idea of doing something nice for Melanie. So he stepped through the kicked in door and looked around. The makeup aisle had already been pretty thoroughly picked over - broken bottles and compacts littered the floor, but one last untouched gold tube on the shelf caught his eye. A red lipstick. He took it. 

He glanced around for nail polish too, but the only color left was a dark purple, which he could not for the life of him imagine Melanie wearing. The lipstick would have to do. 

 He intended on giving it to her that day, but he got caught up in several different briefings, which evidently could not be postponed. So many that he sent Zielinski to the hospital with a message asking Melanie to join him in his office for dinner. They hadn’t had significant time together in much too long, and he missed it. So he was grateful when she accepted and agreed to meet him at eight o’clock. 

Dick got worried when eight-fifteen came and went. He checked his watch for the tenth time in the last sixty seconds and sighed, fearing that Melanie had forgotten him. Or worse, something was terribly wrong at the hospital, and she was enduring further tragedy. Finally, when he was about ready to go looking for her himself, there was a knock on the door. 

“Come in!” he called. 

To his great relief, Melanie walked through the door, closing it softly behind her. She looked a bit sheepish as she came closer. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Dick,” she said. “Sergeant Samson and I were just wrapping up.”

“More canasta?” he asked. 

She nodded. “It’s his favorite game. He used to play it with his sisters back home. He’s got three of them.” 

“Three sisters, wow,” he remarked. “No brothers?”

“One,” she said sadly. “But he was killed on Guadalcanal.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “But I’m impressed with you. You really get to know the men you’re treating.” 

“I certainly try,” she said. “Hospitals can often feel overly clinical and cold. Doctors don’t have much time to spend with patients, and nurses can get overwhelmed. I don’t want the patients to mistake that for not caring.” 

Dick had met very few people who had the emotional capability to invest so much in others. For a fleeting moment, he likened Melanie to a priest or pastor, with a flock of people to look after, but what she did was different. She wasn’t a spiritual guide or advisor. She was a simple comfort. A place to tell someone about your favorite game or your siblings or your life story. A generous ear to listen to you talk about something besides your pain. 

“That’s very sweet of you,” he told her, keeping the true depth of it to himself. 

She took a seat across from him at his desk, and they had dinner together. At first, she asked mostly about him and how he was doing, but he eventually turned it around. He let her talk about the patients she’d met at this hospital, and she shared little tidbits of their lives. She wasn’t burdened by it, either. In each one, she found something of interest, worth remembering and holding onto. He listened, but he knew he’d never be able to recall everything the way she did. But he hoped he helped by doing a little bit of what she did for others, for her.  

When they finished eating, she sat back with a satisfied smile. He loved that look on her face and he couldn’t help but smile a bit himself. To continue that momentum, he went into his desk and pulled out his gift for her. He didn’t have a box or anything this time, so it wasn’t nearly as big as the gift of the dress, but he hoped she’d still appreciate it. 

“I got something for you,” he said. 

She raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

He placed the tube of lipstick on the desk as her mouth fell open. But a sparkle in her eyes told him it was a delighted sort of shock. 

“Where did you get this?” she gasped. She picked it up and examined it, as if not quite believing it was real. 

“There’s a drug store in town that’s...no longer in operation,” he explained. He still didn’t love that he’d technically stolen it, but he wouldn’t let her know. “I think every man in the regiment got something for the women in his life. And you mentioned wanting some.” 

“And you remembered?” she wondered. 

“Sure I did,” he replied with a chuckle. 

“How kind of you,” she said, her grin widening. “I can’t wait to use it! Thank you so much!”

Did anything feel better than making her happy? Dick wasn’t sure. The warmth in his chest told him there was nothing. It didn’t matter that he’d taken it by looting. For that smile, he was prepared to commit highway robbery.  

“You’re welcome,” he returned. 

He watched her gaze at the items in her hand, a pensive, contemplative expression coming over her features. There was something more she wanted to say. Knowing her, she would shake her head, smile again, and mumble “never mind” mostly to herself before moving on. He hoped she wouldn’t, so he remained silent, giving her the space to work through what she was thinking. 

“It seems silly to say this over something so small,” she began, her voice soft, so he had to lean closer in order to hear. “But may I share something with you?” 

“Of course,” he assured her, though the question made him nervous. 

He tried to think of what could make her so serious all of a sudden, but nothing immediately came to mind. A split second of doubt came over him that she was going to confess she had met someone else because she was tired of waiting for him. But that seemed like a rather outlandish conclusion to jump to. He slowed down his thoughts and focused on her. 

“I know you’ve been wondering about what caused me to leave the hospital in Bastogne and come to the front lines,” she began. “And I haven’t been able to tell you. I’m sorry.” 

He was still curious, but he certainly didn’t want her to feel like she had to talk about that just because of a lipstick he didn’t even pay for. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Please,” she cut across him. “Let me get this out before I lose my nerve.” 

“Take your time,” he said gently. 

She nodded and took a deep breath. Tears pricked her eyes as she released it, slow and shaky. He mentally braced himself to hear the worst. 

“Before the hospital was bombed, Terry...made me an offer,” she continued. “For a life together after the war. He told me he had always had feelings for me and basically that he wanted to marry me.” She ran the fingers on her right hand over the ring finger of her left. 

“Naturally, I refused,” she went on. “I wasn’t in love with him.” She paused there, toying with the lipstick tube, as if debating adding something onto that sentence, but decided against it. “I thought my answer was clear, even before the bombing. But the day I was supposed to return to work, he came to my room.”

She stopped again, chewing her bottom lip before swallowing hard. 

“He’d had a bit to drink,” she said. “He wasn’t out of control, but I could smell it when he got close to me. He proposed again. I refused him. He shouted at me that he loved me. He said he couldn’t bear the thought of me with another man. And that’s when he started to throw things.” 

Beads of sweat appeared on her brow and hairline. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, undeterred, though trembling. She rubbed her hand against the fabric of her dress to dry it off.

“I pleaded with him to stop, but he grabbed me by my face,” she said. “Painfully. Then he looked me in the eyes and threatened to...crush my skull against the vanity, to use his words.” 

She looked at him, and suddenly, she halted and met his gaze.

“Am I upsetting you?” she asked. 

If he didn’t know her better, he would have thought she was being sarcastic - trying to remind him just who really had been hurt here, but she wasn’t. She was genuinely concerned about him in a moment like this. Her tone, apologetic. 

Dick’s anger had risen from a simmer to a boil. He’d been trying to maintain composure as she spoke. He did not want her to lose her nerve by seeing him get agitated, but he couldn’t help the set of his jaw. He regretted not fighting Clarke when he’d had the chance because maybe this might not have happened. It’s harder to throw things and grab people with broken fingers, after all. He shook his head and took a deep breath to calm down, intentionally relaxing every muscle in his face. 

“I’m fine, Mel,” he lied. “Please, go on.” 

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but did not protest. 

“I tried to resist,” she continued. “But then he grabbed me by the throat. If he said anything else at that point, I didn’t hear. I was blacking out quickly. And for a moment, I was afraid...I was so afraid I was going to die.” 

She choked on the last word, and she swiped the tear that leaked onto her cheek away quickly. He kept his gaze fixed on her face, watching her lip quiver. He knew it was ridiculous, but overwhelming guilt sank its claws into his heart. He should have been there to defend her. He should have warned Colonel Sink about Terry. He should have done something. Even now, he wished he could protect her from the very memory of it. 

“I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “But somehow I found the strength to get away. I remember striking him, but not much else. That was when Colonel Sink showed up. And I begged him to let me go...well, anywhere that wasn’t the hospital. He suggested the Bois Jacques, and I agreed.” 

He sat with it a moment, impressed at her resilience, and a little relieved that nothing worse had happened - and he had imagined much worse, especially when she said the altercation had taken place in her bedroom. But she got away. She rescued herself. There was something to be said for that. 

“I’m so sorry you went through that, Mel,” he said. “You were very brave.”

“Please don’t flatter me, Dick,” she replied. “Dogs have enough courage to fight back when attacked. I acted on instinct.”

“Even so, you did well,” he insisted. He hesitated asking his next question, unsure how she might take it or if she was receptive to being questioned at all. 

“Why didn’t you report him?” he asked, feeling desperate. “That’s a court martial offense, assaulting a fellow officer.”

“Colonel Sink offered to do the paperwork, but I asked him not to,” she told him. “There’s no point, really. It would be my word against his and that rarely goes well for a woman.” 

Dick carefully disguised his distaste for that answer. He wasn’t frustrated by Melanie, but that she was right. 

“Besides,” she said. “He didn’t really do anything. He just frightened me, that’s all.” 

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” he returned. “He nearly killed you.” 

She shrugged, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands, which were in her lap now, fidgeting with the lipstick tube, which made a soft pop each time she opened or closed it.

“You may think you’re being kind by showing him mercy, Mel,” he said. “But Terry should be at the least reprimanded for what he’s done. I know it’s hard, but you’re brave enough to -”

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. 

“Dick, stop it!” she cried, looking desperately at him. “I’m not brave or strong or kind or anything else! I’m scared, alright?! I didn’t report Terry because I’m terrified that he will find me again! And how much worse would it be if he had nothing to lose?! It isn’t mercy, it’s fear!”

She lowered her eyes to the floor and tried to draw in a breath. It was shallow and shaky, catching on the lump in her throat. He couldn’t stand that he was not holding her. So he got to his feet, crossed to the other side of his desk, stood before her, and held out his hand. She looked at it, then up at his face, before placing her fingers in his palm. He helped her to stand. Then, he gathered her up in his arms. Her forehead found a resting place on his chest, and she nuzzled into him. They fit together like puzzle pieces. 

“I’m sorry, Melanie,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m so sorry.” When she only nodded, he continued. “You’re safe now.” 

“Yes,” she said softly into his chest. “Yes, I know.”

He made a silent promise to himself and her. From here on out, he would be her personal shield. No one deserved what she had endured, but she especially didn’t. This woman, who was all heart and grace and goodness. He would protect her with everything he had.

[lyranova]

After the Mixer

Hi guys! Here’s the collab I mentioned that I wrote with @thoughtfullyrainynightmare 😁, i had so much fun writing this and its super chaotic but in the best way hehe. It has canon characters as well as Yamichar in it, it also has OC’s such as Alistar, Leon, Hikari, Ulla, and Solara so its got a bit of everything 🥰! This is another side story for COTF and if you’d like to read the first part of this fic you can read it HERE. I also apologize if it looks weird, i ran out of block texts 😅.

Taglist: @eme-eleff @crazyclownthanos @bowandcurtsey @flow3rbudz @elysianluv @ckjwnnbc

Warnings: None

———

It was a bright and sunny day in the Clover Kingdom, birds were chirping, the sun was shining, the citizens were happy and cheering. It was a good and normal day for everyone, well almost everyone.

Alistar groaned as he walked towards the meeting room, his head was pounding, he was nauseous, he was tired, and very dizzy. Alistar was hungover. He accidentally drank something a little too strong for him, so now he was suffering the consequences. He groaned as the memory of confessing his feelings for Hikari to her father surfaced. That was awful.

“ A-Alistar, are you ok?” Ulla asked softly as she followed behind him, her heels clicking against the stone floor. Even that sound was making his head worse. He couldn’t help but give the young red haired girl a stern look over his dark sunglasses.

“ No Ulla, I am not ok.” He grumbled, his usual happy and warm demeanor gone and was replaced by a very grumpy and tired one. He walked up to a wall and leaned against it as the world suddenly turned sideways.

He leaned his head against the cool stone wall as Ulla stared at him nervously, it had been a while since she had seen him like this. She heard someone approach and waved her hand.

“ Oh hello Leon!”

"Hey," Leon simply greeted, giving her a small wave as he made his way to Alistair.

"What are you doing here?" Alistair asked, not wanting any more questions about how well he was, or clearly wasn't, doing.

"I'm attending the meeting to, y'know, get a better grasp of these meetings." Leon shrugged, waving off Alistair's grumpy attitude since he knew perfectly well where it was coming from.

"To get a better grasp?" Alistair quirked an eyebrow. Leon knew perfectly well how these meeting always were, and he'd get a briefing instead of having to sit through one of these tedious necessities that came with being a captain, or a vice-captain.

"Yeah..." Leon replied with a lazy tone. "That's what I told my father, and he quirked an eyebrow at it too, but he wasn't going to exactly stop me from attending."

"So what are you really doing here?" Alistair asked while massaging his temples.

"Moral support?" Leon answered with a questioning tone, since he wasn't quite sure about it himself. But, what he did know was that he felt bad about leaving Alistair to deal with the aftermath on his own. Though it wasn't exactly his job to baby sit Alistair either, and watch his drinking habits.

Alistar rolled his eyes at his friend, “moral support”, yeah right. The last time he was his “moral support” he watched as he confessed to Yami Sukehiro and then passed out in front of him. Yeah some moral support Leon was. Alistar let out a soft sigh before pushing himself off the wall and he started walking with Leon and Ulla towards the meeting room.

“ You just want to see what Captain Sukehiro’s reaction to me being there is going to be.” Alistar half joked, his friend chuckled slightly.

“ Maybe a little.” Leon agreed as he pinched his fingers together slightly, Alistar shook his head.

“ Terrible.” He muttered jokingly, the three stood outside the tall oak doors and Alistar leaned against the frame a bit. “ Give me just a moment.” He asked as he held up a finger.

He was not only sick from the hangover, but just the thought of seeing Captain Sukehiro again made his stomach do all sorts of flips. That’s all he would need is to puke in front of Hikari’s father, or worse puke on her father. He paled at the thought.

“ Captain, are you ok?” Ulla asked again in concern before she turned to look at Leon who only watched Alistar, the white haired mage smiled weakly before patting the girl on the head.

“ You worry too much.” He told her before standing up straight again and he looked at Leon. “ If I say ‘Pun and Sun’ that’s the signal to kill me and end my suffering.”

"Your death shall be quick," Leon assured with a smirk.

"Nothing about this has been 'quick and easy'," Alistair muttered again before supporting himself against the doorframe and taking a deep breath.

Ulla and Leon watched Alistair push the door open, and hastily make his way to his seat without as much as a greeting form the other captains. Yami wasn't there yet, so he sighed to himself out of relief. Though Captain Roselei was, which made him frown for a bit. But then again, she had always been more punctual out of the two.

Leon and Ulla followed, exchanging their greetings. But the pleasantries were cut short by a low voice, coming from the corner of the room, from the same wall on which the door stood.

"Don't have the common courtesy to wish good morning?"

Alistair froze in place. Because... it was Captain Sukehiro's voice. He should have noticed his mana. He should've! But... it seemed that he had been too caught up with trying to compose himself.

Alistar swallowed the sudden lump in his throat as he turned slowly to face Yami, the taller man had a cool yet stern look in his eye as he looked Alistar up and down. Alistar quickly cleared his throat before speaking.

“ G-Good morning Captain Sukehiro.” Alistar said calmly, it took everything he had to keep his voice from shaking. Yami just stared at him before scoffing, pushing himself off the wall and walking past him.

“ You look like hell.” He grumbled, Alistar let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He watched as Captain Sukehiro sat down next to his wife, Alistar looked at Leon who only smiled, gave him a thumbs up and mouthed ‘Moral Support’. Alistar glared over his sunglasses at him and he shook his head before walking over to the meeting table.

“ Good morning.” He greeted everyone politely, he tried to give them his most charming and warm smile, but instead it came out more lopsided. He noticed Hikari wasn’t around and frowned, she must be in the bathroom? Or was she feeling unwell? If she didn’t show up during the meeting he would try and go see her, even if he felt awful he would always check on her and make sure she was ok.

“ Good morning Alistar,” Fuegoleon responded politely as did the other Captains, he frowned a bit at the young man's slightly disheveled appearance. He leaned towards his son and whispered. “ Is Alistar alright? I know you, him, and one of the Black Bulls went out last night.”

Leon leaned closer to his father, pondering for a moment whether or not he should reply in Thean, just to make sure that the events of last night wouldn't be overheard by those around them. But then again, speaking in a foreign language in a setting where most present didn't speak that particular language, would be rather rude.

"He..." Leon began in whispers. "He had one too many last night," he simply remarked, intending to tell a bit more once back home if it was necessary.

Fuegoleon only gave a slow nod as a reply. He couldn't really relate to being badly hungover, but to him it was nothing more than youthful self-discovery. And since Alistair was present at the meeting, he wanted to still complete his responsibilities, and would surely learn from this experience.

"No you had one too many, this one had a bucketful on top of that," Yami remarked as his eyes shifted between Leon and Alistair. His previous irritation seemed to be growing the longer he looked at white haired younger male who hadn't 'bothered to greet good morning'.

Fuegoleon quirked an eyebrow at Yami, as if to ask where his comment was coming from.

Alistair opened his mouth to reply, but then William walked in, and upon seeing the frowns around the table, he stopped in his tracks.

“ Good morning everyone.” William said hesitantly, he frowned as he looked around the room, it was as though he interrupted some conversation. He walked around to his seat and sat down before turning to his right to see his son looking worse for wear. He looked over at Yami, Fuegoleon, and Leon before looking back at Alistar.

“ Alistar,” he suddenly pulled his son’s dark glasses down and looked at his eyes. “ are you hungover?” Before Alistar could respond Yami snorted, causing William to look at him.

“ Yeah he is, your son drank a bucket full of alcohol last night and as you can see it didn’t agree with him.” Yami said as he crossed his arms, Alistar looked at Yami.

“ It wasn’t a ‘bucket full’ it was 2 glasses of really strong alcohol.” He mumbled, holding up two fingers. When he saw the glare Yami was giving him, Alistar paled further. “ s-sir.” He added softly. William sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“ Do I even want to know why the three of you went out and decided to get drunk?” William asked as he leaned back in his seat, he was clearly disappointed in his son's behavior and coming to the meeting hungover. Sure it showed that he was willing to do his job and attend meetings no matter how he was feeling, but he also knew Alistar was better than this.

“ Depends, do you really want to know?” Yami asked William with a slightly raised brow.

"We didn't 'decide' to get drunk," Alistair tried, looking at his father, which made William glance at him.

"Yes," Leon butted in to the conversation. "Ezio left to escort a lady home, and we stayed to chat. And it really was only 2 glasses. I didn't think them to be that strong." He explained, trying to salvage what there was to be salvaged. "And besides, you didn't seem that bad off when we left." He added while looking at Alistair.

"So the decisions you made, you made with 'good judgement'?" Yami asked while turning his attention to Leon.

Leon paused for a moment, realizing that he had just given an opening for Captain Sukehiro to question his judgement. "Well... Things emerged during the conversation. And if you look at the decisions made, it's not so much about the decision itself, but more of a timing issue."

Yami quirked an eyebrow again, while Alistair glared at Leon over the table with a hint of pleading, and with a hint of anger.

" Why do you hate me? " He asked without thinking more about it.

"What happened? Exactly," William interrupted the conversation and turned his attention back to Yami.

“ Well idiot one and idiot two here came by the Black Bulls base last night,” Yami started as he leaned forward. “ Your son, idiot one, decided it would be a good idea to confess his feelings for my daughter Hikari *while* he was drunk. But instead of confessing to her he confessed to me.”

“ And idiot two,” Yami continued looking at Leon. “ just stood there supporting idiot one with a goofy smile on his face.” Yami finished.

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop in the room. Everyone seemed surprised by this, except for Captain Roselei as she was the only other person who knew about Alistar’s feelings for Hikari.

Alistar was as white as his hair, his glasses having fallen further down the bridge of his nose as he listened to Captain Sukehiro rat him and Leon out, he glanced over to his friend and saw he was staring down at the table.

“ Does the ‘Pun and Sun’ kill command work for me as well if I say it?” Leon asked Alistar softly.

“ I’m sure it can be arranged.” Alistar muttered back softly before William leaned forward, as did Fuegoleon.

“ I’m sorry, you both did what?” William asked before looking towards his son, then Leon, and back again.

"I-" Alistair began, wondering about what he could say, if anything. "It... wasn't a good decision, but I... I needed a bit of encouragement..." Alistair mumbled. Which was true. It wasn't convincing or a good thing to say, but it was true. "It's no excuse but it's..."

William looked at his son, blinking, and then letting out a sigh. "It is not. But at least your judgement was clouded when you made the decision." He stated while glancing over at Leon.

"Just what are you implying?" Fuegoleon asked with a low tone, now looking at William instead.

William's eyes shifted to the vermillion haired captain with a courteous smile. "Well since Leon was still very much aware of his actions, and still enabled this to happen, surely he's accountable as well."

"You intend to pin the blame onto my son?" Fuegoleon asked again, now standing up.

"Both of your idiot sons are to blame," Yami scoffed while Charlotte glanced at Solara.

“ Unless you have something actually constructive to say Yami, I would suggest you stay out of this.” William said holding up a hand towards Yami before turning his attention to Fuegoleon, everyone could feel the amount of intense mana radiating off both men as they tried to defend their son’s.

“ Well Yami,” Fuegoleon suddenly turned to face the dark haired man. “ since your daughter spends so much time with them, then is it right to assume she enjoys the company of idiots?” He asked with a raised brow, Yami stood up and glared at the vermillion haired mage.

“Are you calling my daughter an idiot-lover, Oldgoleon?” He asked in a threatening tone, William then chuckled.

“ I mean, we don’t know what Hikari’s feelings are. But if we were to assume that she liked Alistar and Leon, then by extension that would make her an idiot as well.” William pointed out, Yami turned to look at him. The room exploded with mana, it wasn’t only coming from Fuegoleon and William but now Yami as well.

“ You’ve gone too far, Goldie Guts.” Yami said in a raised tone, causing Alistar to clutch the side of his head in pain. If his head wasn’t pounding before it surely was now, Fuegoleon scoffed.

“ You’re the one that started it by calling our sons idiots Yami.” Fuegoleon pointed out and William nodded in agreement.

"No it was your sons that started this overall," Yami replied while finally standing up as the very walls seemed to bend away from the overwhelming mana inside the room.

Charlotte leaned over the table, whispering to Solara while keeping her eyes firmly on the three men. "You think we should intervene?"

"Hmm..." She hummed while glancing over. "I'm tempted to see just how far this escalates... If it seems like they'll do something irreversible, then we'll intervene." She pondered before lifting her tea cup to her lips. "Unless, of course, you want to stop them now."

Charlotte though about it for a moment, listening onto the bickering for a moment. "They're grown men," she finally concluded, taking a sip of her tea as well, while all the other captains and vice captains looked at the two of them, and the trio, and then Charlotte and Solara again.

Leon's gaze shifted between his father, Alistair, and his mother, unsure of what to do.

And Alistair, Alistair wondered if there was a hole where he could just crawl into and die.

Suddenly, the oak doors opened and in walked Hikari Sukehiro. She looked around as she saw chaos erupting, she could feel the mana on the other side of the door when she approached but hadn’t realized it had been all three Captain’s. She noticed all of their ki was aggressive and yet somewhat...childish? She frowned and slyly made her way over to Alistar, apparently the ‘adults’ were too busy bickering to notice.

“ What the heck happened?” She whispered in Alistar’s ear causing him to jump slightly and turn to look at her, she frowned a bit as she looked him up and down. “ Geez what happened to you?”

Alistar held a finger up to his lips before signaling to Leon to follow him, both men stood up from their seats and, without thinking, Alistar took Hikari’s hand and led them to a corner of the room. Alistar sat down in the chair and leaned back as his head continued to pound.

“ So what happened?” Hikari asked, looking from Leon to Alistar, the white haired man still hadn’t let go of her hand Leon noticed with an amused smile.

“ Well long story short; Alistar got drunk last night so he’s currently hungover, your dad called him and I idiots, our dads jumped to our defense and pointed out that you liking and hanging out with us also made you an idiot and this is the end result.” Leon explained as the yelling got louder and it seemed the walls were continuing to bend because of it.

Hikari blinked, and her eyes shifted between the two. Alistair looked bad off. Really bad off. In the way someone with a hungover would look.

"That's... pretty much it..." Alistair replied, confirming Leon's explanation.

But still. The explanation didn't really explain anything to her. Or perhaps it did. She thought Alistar to be better than to get wasted before an important meeting. That in itself was weird. But why was dad calling him and Leon idiots? Surely it had something to do with getting drunk. And perhaps Leon allowing Alistair to get drunk. But why was dad so... emotional about it? Calling them idiots? It wasn't like him. Usually he'd just shrug it off, or maybe snicker about it. Maybe. But this.. it was-

There was a crash, which woke her from her thoughts. And the next thing she knew was the sight of her mom dragging her father by the ear. "I can't believe you dropped down to this level," she frowned with her brow twitching.

"But honey- ow, ow, ow," Yami tried, while still being dragged by Charlotte towards the hallway.

Fuegoleon and William chuckled as they watched Charlotte dragging Yami away, until Fuegoleon felt a similar pull on his ear and he turned to see Solara glaring at him as well.

“ I think that’s quite enough Fuegoleon, I swear I thought you were better than this.” Solara said in a disapproving tone as she dragged her husband out of the room as well, William continued to chuckle as he watched them.

“ My how the mighty have fallen. Both the Lion and the Bull have been tamed and are now as harmless as a house cat and a calf.” He chuckled before it died in his throat when Solara and Charlotte glared at him.

“ You know William, we both still have one free hand each,” Charlotte pointed out and Solara nodded in agreement.

“ And you have two free ears that no one’s pinching, so unless you’d like us both to grab one of your ears. I suggest you keep quiet.” Solara said and William paled a bit but nodded.

“ Geez, when did the adults start acting like children?” Hikari muttered with a sigh and shake of her head.

"You know that it was his son that-" Yami tried to explain to Charlotte, only to have his ear pinched even stronger.

"Don't you dare try continue this," Charlotte glared at him.

"Yeah dad!" Hikari exclaimed marching towards her father. "So what he got drunk?! As a grown man you should be able to be more mature about it!" She scolded him.

Solara sighed, looking at Fuegoleon again with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yes dear..." he only spoke before being let go, and started heading out towards the hallway.

Leon let out a faint snicker, unable to contain the absurdity of the moment, but instead earned a similar glare from his mother. Which made any signs of amusement fade from him. "Nothing mom..."

Meanwhile Charlotte and Hikari, who had proceeded to grab Yami's other ear between her fingers, were dragging Yami out.

And as it all was taking place, everyone else in the room, those who were simply observing, did just that. They looked at it all, unfolding before them without really wanting to intervene.

“ I’ll talk to you guys later, try to sleep off that hangover Alistar.” Hikari said, turning slightly to face the room before walking out with her mother and father, Alistar gave the dark haired girl and his vermillion haired friend a small wave goodbye as they exited the room. William sighed softly and looked at the other Captains and Vice Captains.

“ I apologize for the chaos and for our behavior, I promise this will never happen again. This meeting will continue at a later date, you may leave.” William said, the other captains and vice captains nodded and left the room, Ulla looked at Alistar and he nodded so she also exited the room.

Once the oak doors clicked shut William sighed and walked over towards Alistar and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“ Come on, let’s get you back home.” William said softly, Alistar nodded and stood up, as the room began to spin and tilt slightly he leaned against his father.

“ I’m sorry, this is all my fault. I...I should have been more responsible.” Alistar mumbled softly, if he hadn’t gone out last night and hadn’t gone to the Black Bulls to confess to Hikari, maybe today and the meeting wouldn’t have been such a disaster.

William looked at his son in silence for a moment. It was only the two of them now, so he could speak freely. But he didn't really know what to tell Alistair.

He might have had his white hair, the hair he was now gently stroking as Alistair leaned against him. But his eyes always reminded him of his wife. And, he found himself thinking how she would probably have had something constructive to say.

William looked up to the ceiling, though his gaze extended far further than that. I didn't think this would be so hard... He thought, hoping that she might hear him. Though if you were here, you would probably have dragged me out just like those two were. He smiled to himself.

"Confessing your feelings is hard," William began, trying to think of something comforting, but ending up thinking about how nervous he was around his wife in the beginning. "And... things could certainly have... gone smoother. But... I wasn't exactly on my best behaviour either...." He admitted while turning his gaze back to Alistair.

“ Heh. None of us were on our best behavior.” Alistar admitted with a humorless laugh, things should have gone differently but sadly they hadn’t, he heard his father sigh softly as he continued stroking his son’s head. Even though Alistar was an adult now, he still wanted to try and comfort him the best way he could. Alistar did seem to take comfort in the small gesture as he leaned slightly more into his fathers touch.

“ Did I ever tell you how your mother confessed to me?” William asked suddenly, it was a bit of an embarrassing story, well not embarrassing but it was very...sudden? His son turned his head a bit to look at his father.

“ I don’t think so, was it as bad as what I did?” Alistar asked, William chuckled and shook his head.

“ No it wasn’t as bad as what you did,” Alistar groaned at his fathers words but let him continue. “ Your mother was a very direct person, sure she seemed sweet in public but she was actually quite different when it was just us. Long story short, I went to see her one day and she just came out and said she was in love with me, that she couldn’t imagine spending the rest of her life with anyone else, and asked if I felt the same way.”

“ Sounds like her. I wish I could be that direct.” Alistar mumbled with a soft laugh and his father laughed as well.

“ Your mother was one of a kind.” He admitted with a fond smile as all the memories of him and his wife floated to the surface of his mind.

Alistair looked away with sorrowful eyes, feeling longing that didn't really make sense to him. How could he miss someone who he had never met? But. No matter how absurd it seemed, he did feel sad about not meeting his mother.

"And I'm sure that she would have something helpful to say," William continued while looking at his son. "Either that or then I would be getting dragged away just like Fuegoleon and Yami," he chuckled.

Alistar scoffed a little, thinking about the sight. If the situation would have been anything else than what it was, he might have laughed out loud while witnessing it, depending on who was there to see.

"But.. um...." William tried to think of what he was trying to say a moment before. "It's not easy to confess your feelings. I didn't have to, or I didn't get to, I suppose, be the one to confess. Your mother did that for me. So... you're trying to do something very brave, and... I should scold you for trying to confess with fool's courage," he spoke with a slightly more stern tone of voice. "I can understand why you did so."

Alistair gazed up to his father again, feeling an array of emotions. He wasn't pleased about everything going the way it did. And he wasn't exactly happy about deciding to confess his feelings while drunk. But... His dad was on his side with this.

“ I shouldn’t have been so stupid, but what’s done is done and I can’t change it.” Alistar admitted softly. “ But I can make my next confession better and they way Hikari deserves to be confessed too.” Alistar added with a bit more strength and determination, William smiled with slight pride before he gently ruffled his son's head.

“ I know you will, and if there’s anything I can do to help, don't hesitate to let me know. I’m sure Leon and the others wouldn’t mind helping either.” William said. “ but think it’s time we got you home,” William added as he walked with his son towards the exit, Alistar nodded in agreement as he stood up a little more straight before regretting his decision and leaning against his father again.

“ I hate being hungover.” Alistar grumbled as his father chuckled, he opened the doors as quietly as he could before shutting them softly behind them.

“ Next time you go out with your friends, how about not going to a tavern?” William suggested as his son rolled his eyes at the suggestion.

"It was Ezio's idea," Alistair scoffed.

"Well in that case, perhaps it would be your turn to pick," William chuckled while supporting his son.

"Yeah, I suppose it would," Alistair agreed with a small smile before taking a deep breath and trying to stand a bit more upright. But this time he straightened his posture little by little, unlike before, which made it much more tolerable.

William smiled. And, despite of everything, he was proud. He'd always be proud of Alistair, no matter what. Though, he had to admit, he was sure that they'd both do a little bit better if... it wasn't just the two of them.

So, William gazed up again, asking if his wife was proud of them too. And of course there was no answer. Or... perhaps there was, in the way wind outside made a few petals dance in front of a window.

——-

Thanks for reading and I hope you all have a good day 🥰!