#I feel bad for the folk on the opposite side of the building it’s gonna be so dark

[badolmen]

Happy fiber optic Friday everyone :]

[historicity-was-already-taken]

Welcome New Followers Post xiv

gonna make this bullet points of Things to Know because deadlines, but hi! welcome!

-this is not a jewish identity or a jumblr blog. i am a jewish person and a holocaust historian, so my content often overlaps with those realms of tumblr

-this is first and foremost a public history blog. public history and public historians do history for the public. we're passionate about transmitting complex historical topics from the academe to the people, and we're in constant (one-sided lmao) conversation with entities such as: film writers and producers, textbook writers, government bodies, journalists, etc regarding the construction of public memory, and the responsibilities that entails

-you don't have to ask if something is ok to reblog. I appreciate the thought, but unless I turn off reblogs or specifically ask people not to engage in certain ways, you're fine, that said:

-I do see and read all tags, replies, and rbs. I consider them public, and I often respond to them as new posts. If you want to engage with me and don't want others to see, then send me an ask which includes the words "please respond privately"

-You can should disagree with me and tell me when you think I'm wrong! Now, I won't lie, years of existing as a young-appearing hyper feminine (i like skirts and bows and sparkly shoes it is what it is) female, Jewish historian have made me defensive and bitey af, and I often misread neutral tones as "coming for me" tones and respond in kind. I apologize for when/if that happens to you, and I assure that, once I realize you're not coming at me in bad faith, I will feel horribly guilty.

-There is a learning curve here. I don't have any desire to gatekeep my blog (it's the opposite tbh), but I do use high level terms which can have multiple meanings in different contexts. I actively try to avoid using impenetrable academic jargon in this space, but sometimes that jargon is the only appropriate phrasing available. In those cases, I urge you to do some research and poke around and then, if you still don't understand what I mean, DM me.

-I am a white, American woman. I am actively anti-racist, and anti-bigotry in general, but there will be times when I do or say something clueless or privileged. If you see that and you have the energy, please tell me! I want this blog to be a welcome place for all,* and I appreciate call-outs as an opportunity for (un)learning.

-Building on that, this is an anti-bigotry space which I'd like people of all demographics and identities to feel comfortable engaging with.* That said, I don't play nice when some random corner of tumblr rolls up in here and barfs their shit all over my posts.

-I am a cringe millennial. I started this blog in 2011, when I was 21, had just finished college, before I'd heard back from any graduate schools, and before I had much resembling a career. I am currently 34. It's fine. But a lot of you are in your teens and 20s and are just starting on your careers, so like, please don't negatively compare yourselves to me or get self-deprecating when/if you want to contact me. We all learn and achieve at different paces and that's ok.

-My book, The Girl Bandits of the Warsaw Ghetto, will be released in Fall 2025. Trust me I will be screaming from the rooftops and you will not miss the announcements lmao.

-If I don't reply to an ask or a DM, it's not because I hate you. There are 800 reasons why I may not reply, and none of them are personal.

and finally

-I am not your Good Leftist Anti-Zionist Jew. I am not here as a rhetorical cudgel for left-wing anti-Semites who seek out Jews with politics similar to mine to then use as a weapon against other Jewish folks. Don't fucking do it.

*That does not mean that everything I post here will make you feel comfortable. History isn't supposed to make you feel comfortable. Sometimes, it can and should make you feel actively uncomfortable, because that discomfort/cognitive dissonance means you're learning (keep your cognitive dissonance temper tantrums tf away from me, tho). It does mean that I, as an individual, want you all to feel that this is a space where you are welcome to learn and ask questions.

i tried to use bullet points to keep this short, and i failed miserably. on brand.

[oonajaeadira]

In honor of Catfish Day, may I ask a question? What is Frankie's best line of dialogue in TF? (also every time i consider deep and evocative world-building, i think about your stories and wanted you to know)

My Megan, my Cheese. You are a lovely soul, did you know???

I will admit that I've only watched Triple Frontier the once, but of course "We gotta fly over the fuckin' Andes, man!" is iconic.

This movie was what I VERY LOVINGLY call "Bro Fare" and is full of boys-being-boys, full of drugs and violence and military and bad decisions. And while I applaud the fact that it kept me gripping the back of the couch in a half escape, afraid for all of them and what could go wrong next, it wasn't really my kind of movie.

And now I'm gonna say something that may raise some hackles around here....other than Pedro and Oscar, I don't really remember the other characters. I know a lot of folks like Garrett or don't like Ben or whatever, but at the end of the day, I felt like the other three dudes were just playing your run of the mill military dudes.

But Oscar's Santi had a LOT of subtext. He was fighting against blaming himself for anything that happened because he called them all there and he didn't want to drown in it before they were out. There was a morally grey center to all of them, but I really feel like Oscar did an amazing job holding down the one that was the furthest from the light even if he was also trying desperately to protect them all. (Come after me if you want to say Tom was the worst, but that guy was just a damaged idiot. He's almost not even on the same scale.)

And on the flip side, I was amazed at the choices Pedro made to play the opposite end of the scale. You give a man a role like this, most of them are gonna play the military bro. These boys have seen service and it's easy to just play that stereotype (which, sorry, is what I felt the other three kinda did.) But Frankie is almost too soft of a heart to be there. His personality doesn't scream military in the Hollywood sense...because Pedro made a conscious choice not to play it. Any chance he could have swung into macho, he went the opposite direction, and listening to his lines and imagining how they are, flat on the page in a script, that role could have easily become that. He actually read his lines and found a different Frankie under them, chose to play someone who made bad choices and regretted them because he'd hurt people he loved with those choices. He isn't the loudest of the bunch, he's more a wallflower in the group because he's there to support, not be supported by them. And when Pedro asked himself, why does this man say yes to this with so much on the line? His answer was obviously love. He loves his brothers. He's at the fight not because he loves the fight but because he loves his friend. He hates saying no to Santi when he's asked to go because he doesn't want to disappoint his friend and you can see it in how he pussyfoots around his (very valid and nothing to be ashamed about) excuse. He ultimately says yes out of love and loyalty even if it hurts himself, even if it turns him back into the monster he wish he never was and Pedro made that choice to make it make sense to himself. And then he played THAT guy.

I love Pedro just as much as the rest of you, but I make a living in the theater and beyond his looks and his killer personality, I respect Pedro's acting chops and his choices and his deliveries so very very very much. I'm wowed by him on a nerrrrrrdily technical level. It's what drew me to him in the first place--when Din took off his helmet and told Grogu it would be alright and barely held it together, when this big tough warrior showed his face and that actor was not afraid to show that emotions in no way weakened his strength and could exist in a warrior in harmony, I was like WHAT IS THIS FRESH CHOICE WHO IS THIS FUCKING AMAZING ACTOR AND WHAT ELSE OF HIS SHIT DO I NEED TO WATCH NOW.

And now I can't unsee it. I love falling in love with his characters because they are so multi-dimensional, so nuanced, so real because he does the work and makes good choices. Every time a new role shows up, I'm a true Gemini: one half of my brain is squealing like a little girl because dur dur pretty Pedro boy and the other half is squealing like a little girl because OH MY GOD THAT'S A FKN AMAZING READ WHERE DID THAT CHOICE COME FROM.

He's amazing. And what makes Frankie amazing to me is all the easy choices he turned away from and yet made the harder ones look like childsplay.

[wavernot4love]

alright y'all lil (alright, maybe not so little) recap of the second show of AG's Boom Done tour last night 3.4 in Buffalo @ one of my favorite venues, Mohawk Place. because my brain commits absolutely everything to memory at shows & i like writing it all down before i forget

(for fun & plus maybe folks going to this tour want to know what's shakin, since i haven't seen much online yet):

(note there will be setlist spoilers)

- alright so first, a freakin HIGHLIGHT for me was, of course, GET OUT!!!

Anthony was just kinda messing around with his guitar & then teased it by being like "hmm... how should i play this..." and then went into that and the crowd reception was AWESOME, dude. whatever the opposite of masking is, that's what i was doing there. i definitely started physically jumping up & down once i realized what it was (typical wavernot4love @ the AG show behavior). aka evidently he knew your boy (who like i've mentioned on here, got into Circa last summer through a kind person at a Dunes show rec'ing me Get Out & then BSN. Get Out was straight up my introduction 2 Circa) was in the building (/Ih).

also, i had to shorten my clip to post because in the rest i must've had my phone right next to my mouth,,, which made for some horrifying tone deaf live vox from wavernot4love. be glad i spared y'all from that one.

(i'm gonna put one of those keep reading thingies here, click it 2 see the rest)

- he also played Dyed In The Wool & Frozen Creek, continuing that theme (though I expected these more since he's played em recently). Dyed In The Wool with everyone singing along during the chorus was probably my top moment, and one that's gonna stick with me forever, honestly. i remember thinking it straight up felt like, a churchlike (but positive) experience or something during the songs everyone did that for (remember, it's just anthony this tour no backing band, so it was somewhat quiet in there). more on that later, but AG kept pointing out how nice the singing along was & how fun/awesome this all was, and man, that it was.

- he mentioned valuing spontaneity over a planned setlist every night and basically implied he was just goin for whatever felt right at the time. so just consider the songs i mention here as a basic guideline, he could very well switch stuff up every night. i love that he's like this when it comes to shows - idk dude, like, at one point he even asked folks what time it was, laughing when they told him, jokingly accusing them of being untrustworthy & then going right back into the tunes. dude was just here to play, for as long as he could.

- kinda tied to that, there was a running gag of the set being "inconsistent" (his word). he'd bring up jokingly that there'd be moments where everyone could be singing along, and then songs that nobody knows (and he'd jokingly "apologize" for that), and he'd even (lightheartedly) call specific people out and be like (to laughs) "look at this person, they have no *idea* what i'm gonna play next!" actually i think he said that before Get Out. at one point he was (paraphrased slightly) like, "so if i start playing 12 Circa songs in a row, let me know." i love how he just does whatever the hell feels right in the moment.

- also a couple times he messed up while starting a song (i think due to laughing) and bro would call out folks laughing at him for it (lightheartedly) and be like "this is all performance. vou don't know what goes into this!" (this was not at all serious and said through laughter. straight up half the show was all of us in that room just cracking up together)

- he introduced his Title Fight cover (Numb, But I Still Feel It) by calling TF one of his favorite bands & joking that they're gonna hear this & think it's time to get back together so... if you hear that Title Fight reunited, you know why, which, well, if you know that side of the scene, you know what's up. real shits and giggles moment, if i do say so myself.

- at one point (only bad thing) someone at the front was being objectively Weird in the way people (unfortunately) do to try to get an artist's attention (let's just say it involved throwing money (????? literally what) while yelling stuff about understanding because they're in the industry (??)) and he honestly handled it with so much grace. he pretty much said that made him uncomfortable etc and he would Not be taking more of their money please, he already did that, and that led to him ranting for a second i think mostly to himself in a thinking out loud/under his breath kinda way about *hating* having to sell stuff in the first place in order to do this and like,,, i go into this a bit in the tags but it genuinely reminded me of how i get when i'm passionate about something. what i'm trying to say, is dude clearly was heated & meant it. fully. just felt relevant to include

- then he ranted about something related to the moneythrowing, drunk (question mark) weirdo (long story, but it ended in him telling them to tip bartenders with their money instead of weird things), then used that to go on a tangent about how we should always tip people working in service in general and respect/be kind to them even if they seem rude or whatever because doing that shit is hard & sucks and maybe your kindess will be the wakeup call that causes them to one day have a moment where they're like, man, i was a dick back then for no reason. (i feel like i am nearly direct quoting him here)

- then after a song he joked about the incident saving we were probably just all watching like 🧍‍♂️ and it was like watching dad yell at mom at the dinner table while you just sit there staring at the ground and safe to say the mood was fully lightened after that moment of self awareness fhfhfh

- then a few songs later i guess the person that was being weird had left so he was like, (at this point there were no weird vibes whatsoever, like we were all just scoffing/laughing at the situation and cheering him on) "oh that person who hates me left. did they give the bartender that money?" (someone implied they thought so) and he was like "good." and that was the end with that weirdo situation lol. i have absolutely no idea why that person, drunk or not, thought that was a normal cool thing to do. as always, please don't be weird 2 musicians they are in every sense just Some Guys (gender neutral), treat them like anyone else.

- back 2 totally unserious things, during... uh don't mind me, like i've said in my previous posts i'm still getting 2 know Boom Done, so whatever song has like, the horns kinda near the end? he just started making freakin. horn noises since since there were, in fact, no horns in the building and made us all do them too and everyone was just straight up cackling because it was so stupid (/pos).

- idk one thing that stood out to me was one person belting along at the end of... i can't remember what song it was actually, i think one of his older tunes, but you could tell he heard & a song later complimented it & said it was beautiful. i'm telling ya, he kept going on about how nice folks singing along sounded and encouraging that, which was awesome because i wasn't sure what the vibe was gonna be there since it was just him playing.

- don't want to go into detail since it feels like something between Anthony & whoever he decides to tell it to in real time, ya know, but he did tell a pretty extensive story leading up to Miracle Sun. in terms of themes, it was in regards to (with plenty of laughs mixed into the serious bits, of course) letting folks that matter to him down + falling into a cycle of engaging in stuff that temporarily made him feel better but was moreso just self destructive, in the past. just interesting stuff to hear in connection to a song.

- at the end, before Dear Child, he just talked in the most honest manner about knowing he's let people down, cancelled shows (there were laughs mixed in here too), just not been the best version of himself over the years etc, but appreciating how long everyone has stuck around, and how we keep coming back, & jow much it means whenever we tell someone go check out a song or anything like that, & helping him continue to do this and also support his family and whatnot and man it just. embodied everything i love about AG solo sets i guess. i just admire how open a book &p vulnerable dude is. while i love his more theatric frontman persona of course as it's fun as hell, it's so nice at solo shows like this to hear more from him, in seriousness and otherwise. also dude was posting about how fun it was on instagram later so i'm just glad we all had a great time.

- also at one point before a new tune he was talking about these cds he had that have that on it + some rerecordings, Frozen Creek (feat. Keith of GOW), etc. i love cds so i ran to snag one later of course (they're $12)

- as for other merch he had a few shirts (like that cute one i keep seeing around, with him & the puppy), some art prints, & the Boom Done book thingy (i really wanted it but couldn't swing the $25 right now sadly)

anyways,, i posted on Setlist FM for the first time, here are all the songs i remember for sure (there were definitely at least 4/5 others i am not thinking of, i'd say he did 17ish songs, he played for close to an hour and a half. keep in mind he talked a LOT with us which was awesome)

edit: someone added a few more!!!

anyways, that's the show!!! 1. i may or may not be trying 2 figure out how to pull off one of the other northeast dates (looking @ Cleveland, which is closer but i'd have to drive to, or New York, which is further (+ yknow.. dealing w getting around in NY) but i could take a bus to, this weekend/next week as we speak,,,, that's how freakin good and homey (more on that in the tags aka uhh literal diary section of this post) and impactful this show was.

and 2. if any of this (especially said tags) sounds loopy it sure is because i wrote most of this at roughly four am last night post show, when i was even moreso still back *at* the show in my head. i still stand by all of it though of course, i just know it might not be the most coherent.

this tour rocks. AG's tunes mean so much to me. get out 2 a show!!! tell me about your experiences if ya do/did!!!! yay!!!!

[binniesthighs]

coax the cold | reader x chan

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: smut, lil bit of fluff 

Tags: softsub!chan, softdom!reader, virgin!chan, shyyyy!chan, lowkey awkward chan hehe, tinder hookup au, college au (very US college haha--or at least how I know it), guided sex, cowgirl, reader has nipple piercings sooo nipple play (my new kink) , hair pulling, use of petnames, praising, protected sex, fingering (f), someone’s impatient ;) 

Word count: 4.2k 

Recommended listening: bite by troye sivan 

*photocreds to OP! 

[02:05] 

you are messaging: chan 

me: i’m here by the bike locks? is this the right place? i don’t see a door anywhere? 

Buzzing above your head, a streetlight flickered from the erratic flying of moths to the addictive yellow glow. You were never really a squeamish person, but when it came to moths, there was only so much that you could take in the uncomfortable silence of the parking lot. 

A group of girls with their cropped shorts and bralettes came barreling out from a pair of doors farther down the building with music screeching from the phone speakers shoved in their tiny pockets. 

“You’ve got the addy right? You didn’t hear anything about it getting shut down? Becs was telling me that they were doing ratios so it looks like we can’t bring the guys--” 

You tapped on your phone screen to see if you had received a reply or if the little flame icon would flash while you watched the minutes tick by. 

You had a little shame about the position that you were in, and you started to care less and less after seeing this guy’s pictures. He was somewhat illusive from what you could tell. The way that he texted in all lowercase made him seem approachable but he still wasn’t one ask for pictures of your tits or send the odd drunk text asking for you to come over. 

You had send the message at this hour. It was likely that you were impatient from “playing the game” but he seemed intriguing enough. 

The Friday night was filled with energy from the other side of the street across from the apartment complex. His place was situated right on the edge of campus next to a couple run down houses with windows lit by multicolored string lights and creaking doors which let out vibrating trap songs every time someone opened them. You had left a house similar to that before coming here right when it was getting boring and the boys were getting a bit handsier than you would’ve liked. You were done making out with randoms in hallways who tasted like watery beer and bad decisions. 

“Um, hey!  Are you y/n?” The stranger’s voice called from a fire escape door. 

He was dressed simply, sort of like someone who didn’t care, or someone who hadn’t left their room since the morning. In this lighting, his hair seemed to be some kind of dark burgundy brown which was a bit different from his caramel blonde hair from the photos. You would’ve felt lied to on another occasion, but the simple trait wasn’t a game changer. 

“Uh-yeah, that's me.” You smiled bluntly, not really sure even what to say in a situation like this. 

Up close you saw what the pictures really didn’t give him justice: a faint press of dimples and stretching veins on his hands. You assumed that he was a bit smaller under the giant black hoodie that he wore, but he had that same kind of coziness that was just a little too dangerous for a hookup. 

“I live on the third floor.” He informed you while leading up the hollow sounding cement staircase. 

“Mm. Okay.” 

The stranger turned his head briefly to smile back at you, “I-Its nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too.” You nodded, even though he didn’t see. 

This young man’s room was nearly exactly as you had pictured it to be element by element. Like every other boy his age, he had a gaming set up with color changing LEDs on the side of his machine and a smaller TV that was hooked up to some console you didn’t care to know the name of. The floors were nearly clean and the bed made--almost like he had planned for it to be that way; you could see the dirty clothes peeping from under his bed. 

The banged up beige walls were decorated with posters of indie bands that you had heard of once or twice. He had somewhat of an organized open closet that held types of CDs and vinyl too--the room itself smelled a bit dusty like the protective covers of those albums that you associated with a record store. 

“You can...we can sit down if you’d like.” He rather awkwardly gestured to his full sized bed. You prayed that once you pulled the covers back later there would be no white stains. 

“Okay.” 

“I could-um, turn on some music maybe? If you would like?” 

“Sure!” You piped trying to sound as confident and in control as possible--it was clear he wasn’t. 

He fidgeted with his phone and a bluetooth speaker which startled him when he turned it on. Just like the posters on his walls, he picked some soft sounding acoustic song with a crooning folk singer that sounded like he was singing with the exclusive use of his head voice. 

The stranger sat next to you clasping his hands in front of him and eyes glued to the floor. 

“Sorry...this is my first time doing this.” 

“Doing...?” 

He smoothed back his dark locks, “You know...meeting up with someone like this after meeting through an app. Um...what do you study?” 

“Biochem with a graphic design minor. You?” 

You weren’t sure if this was a hook up or an interview. 

“Poli Sci Human Rights stuff and sound engineering on the side.” 

“Huh...thats...cool.” 

Both of you nodded your heads in the silence to which he cleared his throat loudly to feel the space. 

“C-can I get you anything? You thirsty or something? I can steal some of my roommate’s Smirnoff Ice--” 

“--No. I’m fine. Thank you though.” 

He smiled sweetly to hid the fact that he was rubbing his sweating hands against his pants. 

“But...how this usually starts off, you could lay down and maybe, I could get on top?” 

“Oh!” He squeaked, “Sure! I can do that.” 

The bed groaned out with the shuffling of bodies and your hookup sighed out with a shaky breath and squirming legs. “Like this?” 

Rather than saying more, you crawled carefully over to him to the tune of his quickening chest and widened eyes. The shier he got, the harder it was for you to keep it in--he was ridiculously cute and your mind could only run wilder thinking about how he would react to everything you were about to show him. Your hands crept to the hem of his hoodie where you teased cold thumbs to his torso. 

“I’m gonna take this off you, okay?” 

Chan nodded eagerly with hair fluffing once you pulled it over his head. 

“Take mine off?” You hushed into his ear to which he smacked dry lips to obey you. 

He took his time pulling it off you; he savored the way that your bare body looked in front of him with glossy eyes that shone with the soft pastel glow from his computer in the opposite corner of his room. His chest heaved with his excitement which only held even more shallow breaths once your top hit the floor. 

“I-I can touch you?” 

“You can touch me anywhere you want to, baby.” You followed his head back to the pillow where you parted his quivering lips with your own. You could feel his shock get caught in his throat, then snake out hotly from his mouth to yours. He kissed you carefully, but growing in greed once you ran the tip of your tongue over his bottom lip. His curious hands wrapped around your back where he rubbed lightly at your sides, then traversed to your chest. You sunk deeper onto him to the tune of the music skipping to the next song which sounded nearly like a chilled out pairing of twangy guitars. As far as you could tell, it sounded something like Grateful Dead. 

As your hips melded into his, Chan’s whole body jerked feeling the sudden contact of your pussy grind against him. As you had expected, he had hardened instantly, and his length bobbed and tented the thick fabric of his sweats. You kissed him deeper, exploring the corners of his mouth and the inside of his lower lip while tugged at the plush skin gently. 

You should have guessed, but this boy didn’t have a clue how to take a bra off, so you did the job for him, sure to give him a display at the same time just for the dramatic effect of your surprise. 

“H-holy shit.” Chan oggled your breasts from below. You were certain that he didn’t notice the way that he slicked his tongue slowly over his lip at the sight of you. 

“You can touch them too.” You purred back into his ear, and he eagerly brought thrilled hands to your nipples. 

“They’re really...um, pretty.” He said with fluttering eyes from your breasts to your eyes. What a gentleman he was being. 

You toyed with your delightfully hardened bud in your hand while he played with the other. You pulled lightly at the sliver stud piercing there to show him that he could do the same and wetted your fingertips with your tongue to bring the wet to your skin. He kneaded at your breast firmly at first, cupping it in his hand, then moved his attention to your sensitive skin aroused just from the softest touches. 

Your tiny moans was all the validation that he needed to squeeze harder and pull rougher. It was as if you could see his cute pent up fantasies unfolding right before you in his sparkling brown eyes. 

“Mm, that feels so good.” You coaxed him further, going to grind you ass harder into his own lap and indulging in the way that even in your shorts, your folds could part around the thick imprint of his dick. 

You collapsed over his face to align your nipples nearest his tongue which he gave no more thought. Chan kissed at them with trailing breathy moans of his own that melted into you and vibrated against the metal made one with your hardened buds. He sucked too with a flicking tongue that sent heat straight down to your clit. Each time his flattened tongue would return with the wet of his spit, you felt weaker and weaker for this boy becoming more tantalizing by the second. 

“Want to--want to take off even more?” The phrase barely escaped your lips. 

“Mmhm.” He agreed, then took to shimming off his pants quickly and watching you do the same, revealing your sky blue panties that always soaked in the way that you liked them to. 

Your show continued on, and you took two of our fingers to rub over your clit while facing him. He too had wetted a spot into his boxers that adorably bunched around the upper parts of his thighs. With your free hand, you slithered to his erection and traced the outline, leaving him on a teasing squeeze. 

“B-before we do anything else...I have to tell you something?” The young man hesitated, causing you to draw your hand back. 

“What is it?” 

“This is like my, first time, first time. You know?” 

“You’ve never--” 

“--I know. It’s...kinda embarassing...and the fact that it’s happening this way...” 

“You don’t want it to happen this way?” 

Chan stammered, but shook his head vehemently, “That's not it. I just don’t want you to be dissapointed...since I don’t really...know what I’m doing too well.” 

He cracked with a hopeful smile, and you couldn’t stand it any more. 

“Babyboy, you’ve got nothing to worry about, I don’t mind.” 

“You don’t?”

“No,” You scooched next to him to twist a couple of his deeply cherry red strands into your fingers, “In fact, the fact that you haven’t done this before...really turns me on. Got it?” 

Chan gulped, “S-so...what-what can I do for you? I’ll do anything?” 

You pressed a light kiss into his forehead with a hand trailing up his thigh and back to his dick which still throbbed with his excitement. 

“How about, you show me how you jerk off this cock of yours, angel? And I can show you how I do the same? For starters?” 

He licked his lips once more, hooking his hands under his waistband and freeing his cock pink, and even thicker than you had imagined. You slid yourself unto his arm to cuddle up close to him, one of your legs swung over his so he could see exactly how you played with your clit. 

He wrapped his hand around his dick with a tug which elicited a tiny “ah!” from his mouth. 

“That’s it...jerk your cute cock for me...just like that.” 

His eyes devoured the circles made by your hand between your legs--you strung together your slick between your fingers to him to see. The clear stringy cum shone on your fingers, making the other boy whimper out seeing how it coated them. 

“I want to touch you too...down there, so bad.” He pleaded after pumping faster at himself. 

“Oh? Pretty boy would like to feel what it’s like to touch my dripping cunt, hm? You know that watching you makes me like this...?” 

Chan gasped out at the thought, letting out an “mmhm.” that cracked in his throat. 

“C-can I?” 

The heat of your naked bodies intermingled and turned the air of his small room dense, and each of your senses became hyper aware in your own arousal: every hair that stood on end, every flinch of his muscles beside you, you could feel it all. 

“Of course you can.” 

Chan shifted, leaving his dripping cock to pulse on your thigh where he flipped on his side to dip his hand between your folds and against your swollen clit. 

“Rub in circles baby, or whatever feels right to you...you’ll know if it feels good for me.”

He nodded with hands trickling down to your pussy heated between your legs. 

There’s something different about him, it could be the fact that you know next to nothing about him, or how he makes you bothered. 

Slowly, his fingers dip between your folds slicked from your teasing--and the way that there mere sight of him teases you. Your back arches from the press of his fingers, and your bud throbs under each and every swipe of his fingers. 

“Feels good?” He whispers into your ear, tickling it. 

“Mm-yes.” With your free hand, you tangle your fingers into his hair to pull right at the roots. You bite a kiss into his lip while drawing him closer to you. His lips are plush and quivering like they can’t decide what to do with all the simulation at once. 

“Harder...you can press harder,” The words were airy on your tongue while your hips writhed. 

“Like this?” He circled harder, wider with his digits mixing with your cum. 

The room appeared to blur in your euphoria. Coupled with the gentle music playing there was a kind of peace to this boy and everything about his little space. The further he continued, the more you longed for him fully--to feel every inch of his length inside of you as you fucked him for the first time. 

Your hand grabbed at his hair even tighter: a symbol that he took as a good sign. He laughed out a little at your response. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He coos. Against your thigh, his dick bobs with a flared tip, begging for more attention. 

You moan out for him as you dig your heels into his bed, and watch the way that your nipples harden around the metal piercings just from his touch. 

“Just you wait baby, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” Your kisses pull at his lower lip as you fill his mouth with more moans. “You don’t even know how fucking tight it is, how it feels when I pull you inside of me and how the friction feels when you’ll fuck me.” 

Chan shivers from your words with a gulp and lets his fingers fall down to your entrance where is curiosity gets the best of him. You wince feeling his fingers fill your pussy with the wonderful way that you desperately close around his digits. 

“Shit.”

“Are you ready?” You ask him permission before trailing a hand down his torso. 

“--Yes,” He nods quickly, “Please. God--I want to feel it. Show me.” 

You twitch from the lack of contact to your pussy when you swing your leg to straddle him. Your hips meet his, and he struggles for a moment over where to put his hands. In one motion you grind your dripping folds over his bare dick, slicking him up and down with the light grind of your hips. A broken gasp escapes from his lips which you catch with your own mouth in a kiss. His closed eyes flutter from the feeling of having you so close...but not completely yet. 

“Got a condom, angel?” You caress down his cheek and let your thumb linger over his bottom lip. 

Chan gives you a grunt in response before contorting his body to the side table where he fumbles for the plastic wrapper. His curtains dance a little with a breeze caught in them, likely from the window being open. The air smells a bit like water, and it’s cool and crisp in your lungs. It cools the surging heat that your body succumbs to. 

You move for him to roll the condom on, tracing the muscles of his chest. His skin is untouched, unmarked, and suddenly all you crave is to see him bruised and scraped in pink. You dig your nails into his chest seeing the way he jerks at himself just a bit more while looking up at you in awe. 

“H-how do we do this?” He asks. 

“Just...do as I say...’kay?” 

Your date nods, letting you take complete control over his body. You start at his neck with kisses that turn heavier and heavier then darker and darker. He busies his hands by cupping into your breasts and tweaking with the hardened buds. 

“Just lay still, I can put in the work pup, okay?” You reach for his erection further down his body, and he finds handles in your hips and ass. 

“I can do that.” He sighs out with a little groan feeling your hand squeeze at him. 

At first, you tease your entrance with his head, barely letting him feel anything besides your clit against his pink tip. His skin grows dewy in his anticipation, and he licks at his lips which dry from each breathy exhale he uses to steady himself. You take your cum to wet at his dick with your hand, and push harder at his sides with your thighs. 

“Tell me if you ever want me to stop, got it?” 

Chan hastily nods, digging deeper into your sides. 

“Fuck, just--fuck me already...I can’t...it’s really...hurts to wait--” 

“Getting demanding now are you?” You tap a light slap to his face. “You’re doing what I say, not the other way around.” 

“S-sorry...” He whines. 

You resume, sitting properly on his length: all the way down, all the way to your cervix which screams in ecstasy from feeling him fill you so deeply. 

“Fuck.” He groans, but his curse is intertwined with a beautiful giddy smile. “Its really tight. Oh god--” 

You lean over him to attach your lips with his once more--a tiny distraction from the way that you start to roll your hips over his length. Chan freely lets his moans tickle your lips, each of them more gruff than the last as he looses himself in you and your rhythm. He’s dizzied: lightheaded--even you can tell. The new sensation takes him over, and he’s left a mess for you: hips trembling while you work your pussy up and down his length and his fingers claw into your shoulder blades. 

Chan’s Adam’s apple bounces as he gulps dry, forming praises the best that he can. “Feels...amazing...” 

You sit back, allowing his full length to tease your g-spot as you fuck him rougher, indulging yourself to all the pleasure that he can give you when you let him in as deeply as possible. He notices the change, and supports your body up with hands running up and down your chest, and down your arms where he pulls at the skin with his short nails. 

“You like this?” You gasp between each roll of your hips. “How my cunt feels on your cock? How I can use you like this? Use your words Channie.” 

“Yes. Fuck yes. Yo-You look...mm--” 

You giggle a little at the light pink blush to his cheeks and the way that he stumbles over his words. 

“Think you can last a little longer, baby?” Your fingers creep to his throat where you tease at squeezing his neck.  

He pauses, loosing himself in it again before giving you a rushed answer: “I think? It’s just...really intense I think that I’m c-close already.” 

You permit him only a couple more seconds of you, then glide off him carefully to which he whines out in confusion. 

“Your turn to fuck me now. Come on, behind me.” 

Chan looks bewildered and breathless, but he does as he’s told and tosses aside stray pieces of clothing on the bed to get to you. You hoist up your hips for him after burying your face into the mattress. To guide him further, you fuck your fingers for him too at this angle, only stopping once you feel the pressure of his cock once more. He slides himself in agonizingly slow until he bottom’s out with a choked moan. 

“Fuck me baby boy. You know what do to.” 

Your date’s hand finds your hips once more which he firmly grasps, then begins screwing into your pussy already blazing with heat and your orgasm building from before. He finds his pace after a while and fills the room with the fleshy sound of skin on skin. Your own fingers find their own way back to your clit where you rub in tandem with his thrusts. 

“Oh,” He gasps quietly. 

Your nails bury into the comforter of the bed, and your teeth clench harder as he milks himself into you and grows in pace. 

“Fuck yes baby, fuck me just like that. You’re doing so good; fucking my pussy just like you should...” 

Your orgasm quickens hearing the praises come from the bottom of your heart and the way that he grunts out hearing them. For someone who’s never done this before, it’s unbelievable how good he is at it all. 

He shudders, and you feel yourself tighten around him further, sensing both of your release coming near. Your hookup doubles over your back, burning you with the heat from his body as he fucks into you with reckless thrusts. 

“Shit, I’m so, so close.” He admits though clenched teeth. 

“Me too baby, finish me off, cum inside until you’re throbbing and you can’t take any-anymore.” 

A switches flips within this once innocent man, and you feel the bed creak as he kneels on one leg, then lifts one to stamp upon the bed to better his angle. The new position directly sends your g-spot into flames, and you shake from limb to limb feeling your orgasm right on the brink. 

He growls upon his release, finishing it off with shallow breaths once he nearly collapses over your back to feel each drop of his cum release inside of your pussy. You rub your orgasm out until you see lightning behind your eyelids and it’s heightened by the way that he twitches with his cum against your deepest spot. 

“A-are you okay?” Your adorable date immediately asks once you gasp and writhe under him. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine...fuck,” You laugh out, “That felt unreal Channie.” 

He shakes once his softening dick leaves your hole, and you get a good look at this stranger: chest flushed and hair messed over his forehead. He falls down to his side on the bed still breathless and letting out happy little laughs. 

“I’m sorry if that was like, really fast. It just all felt...so good, and, I couldn’t really control it--” 

“Mm, don’t you worry.” You sweep down to kiss his gasping mouth. Silently, you thank whoever it was in the universe that let you meet this boy on this night, and whoever willed you to leave that party. 

“What do we do now?” Chan asks, still bare for you to take in wholly. You wanted to tell him, but couldn’t find the words. He was kind of beautiful. 

“Whatever we want. I could go, or I could stay. Really anything goes.” 

His chest is peppered with your purple love bites, and you wish then to give him even more if you have the chance--whenever that might be. 

Chan tilts his head, “Stay?” 

“Well, we still need to get to know eachother don’t we?” 

The handsome stranger grins, and lets his hand trace the side of your face. The cool of the room feels addictive against you, and it weaves around your neck and against the little hairs of your arms. 

“You’re right.” He nods, “There's only so much you can tell about a person from these kind of dating apps.” 

“That’s true.” Your hand discovers his collarbones, which you trace lightly. “It’s nothing like the real thing.” 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes  @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Emotion (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: Kakashi again...can't get enough of this mans tbh. U r an empath due to your kekkei genkai and Kakashi has always been difficult to read. Friend to lovers. Sharing one bed folks, we got some steamyyy shit here. Angst warning as well.

Word count: 6000

He was always alone. Ever since his childhood, he walked the world completely alone with only a few people there to support him. No mother, no father, no mentor, no teammates. He was at the mercy of fate his entire life, things being stolen from him time and time again. 

He just prayed that he could keep her. Y/N L/N, the only woman to have wormed her way into his heart and made a home there.

When they first met, Kakashi and Y/N, she cursed him for being such a weirdo. Apparently his mind was empty and his heart was seemingly full of sand. He was conditioned that way, and that is how he lived for the longest time. It wasn't a surprise for him to hear that.

But she thought it was stranger than anything she'd ever seen, and so she followed him. She would figure him out, bring him back down to Earth from his supposed high horse. That woman was determined, and frankly he didn't mind her being around. She was quiet enough that it didn't matter. Not to mention on the missions they had together, she was quite the partner.

Over time, she'd learned to read him like a book. It was part of her clan's kekkei genkai. The ultimate empath, I suppose. The ability to read a persons every single emotion and then turn that, if they so choose, into power. 

She was never the greatest fighter, but her negotiation skills were the best they could possibly be. She would dive into the emotions of another and manipulate them backwards and forwards to get what she wanted. 

It was overwhelming, walking into a room of people and immediately being bombarded with so many feelings coming at her all at once. Occasionally, if the situation was bad enough she'd have to take a seat and clear her mind, organizing each person in her mind like a filing cabinet of empathy.

But damn, did she try to weasel out every bit of feeling she could. It was just something that came so naturally, she couldn’t help but instigate whatever was brewing up inside him.

"Kakashi, if you're happy, you know you're allowed to express it. You don't have to hide it away," she told him, staring at the masked man sitting across from her at the table. He was watching as she sharpened her kunai, and she could feel the content running off his body in small bursts. He was feeling better. Better than he had in a little while. Of course she picked up on it.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. She was always reading him, he knew that. He just preferred when she refrained from mentioning it. It did, most times, feel like a bit of an invasion of privacy, how she could deep dive into the corners of his mind. There were things no one else could ever possibly know that she did. It was strange, but he was used to it.

"What? Want me to smile or something?"

"No, but you should let yourself go. Just drop the facade."

"Stop doing that. Getting into my head."

Quietly, she set down her blade and picked up the next one, taking a cloth and softly wiping away any dirt. Her eyes slide up to his for a moment, her all knowing gaze filling his vision. "It's basically impossible. Especially if you're the only one around. There's nothing else to focus on except you." He knew that. It wasn't like she had an on or off switch. That was the downside of this dojutsu. Unlike sharingan and byakugan users, hers was always pulling the strings of her brain.

"You've got that mission next week. With Naruto and a few of the other kids, right?"

"Yes."

"It's A rank, isn't it?"

She hummed in agreement. He had a habit of knowing about all her missions, more importantly being the dangerous ones. He wasn't necessarily scared for her, probably not. He was more cautious than anything. There was this nagging feeling in his head that he shouldn't let her go on these missions alone. That it was too dangerous for her to handle. 

But he was wrong. She was stronger than he thought, and could hold her own in battle. He was just a worrier. He'd just lost too many, seen too many bodies in front of his eyes to trust. God, he wanted to trust her, but he couldn't. She was too vulnerable. His friend, one of the only ones who hadn't died yet. For all he knew, her days numbered, that's how paranoid he was about everything.

"You'll be careful?"

"That's a silly question." He gave her a look that said he was more serious than anything, and she sighed. "Of course I'll be careful. I have people that would miss me if I wasn't." He was one of them. She could sense his fear whenever she said goodbye and his relief when she returned. He really tried to remain objective, but his heart said otherwise. 

And she would be a liar to say that she did not experience the same relief seeing him come home from missions, even if he was beaten and bruised to the bone, she was just happy he made it back. So many never got to come home. It was a sick world, they lived in, but she could relish in the little comforts.

"Don't worry about me. I'll always turn out fine. It's you and your dumb students we have to worry about."

"I hear you. Those kids are enough to drive a person mad." He rested his chin in his palm, the mere thought of those kids causing his blood pressure to rise.

"Thankfully my students never gave me any trouble. Sweet little things."

"Well, aren't you just lucky, Y/N?"

"What can I say? Kurenai and I got the luck of the draw with our students. You men had it rough, I have to admit," she laughed. It was funny that he was so unfortunate to have gotten assigned the Uchiha and the Uzumaki, two completely opposite but persistent forces. "Despite your perverted tendencies and your perpetual lateness, you still did a great job teaching them."

"Thanks. But do you really have to call me a pervert? I'm really not."

"Yeah? That explains why you read porn in public. Admit you're a pervert, you dumb old man."

"We're the same age-" he began to argue, but she just cut him off with her harsh words.

"Creep," she muttered, running the sharpening stone along her blade. He narrowed his eyes. She was being awfully annoying, and he knew she could sense his irritation building up. Yet she continued just to be a pain in the ass.

 He warned, "Hey. Watch it, L/N."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop...Pervert." She ducked her head when his hand reached out to wring her around the neck for being so frustrating, and she continued to laugh. It was nice, having a friend she could joke with and be around without having to worry about what she said. He might pretend to be mad, but she could feel the happiness still rolling off his body thickly under all that fake neutrality. 

He was happier than he'd been in a long while, and she found herself swelling with pride knowing that she might have helped make that happen. Her lips curled into the gentlest of smiles as she peered back up at him, and he found himself smiling back even if it was just through the mask. 

He swore in that moment, he'd make sure Y/N didn't end up like all the others. She would live. He'd break this wretched curse just for her. He was sure of it.

______

"How could you be so reckless?! Do you want to die?" Kakashi shouted at his friend who could only stand there angrily, arms crossed over her chest and one foot in the other direction. She didn't need to be lectured by someone who took just as many risks every single mission as she did.

"Kakashi, I really don't want to hear it. You have no idea how it went."

"Yeah but Naruto does, and we were just talking."

She placed her free hand over her chest and exclaimed even angrier than before, "You're going to trust a kid over me? Naruto even?" It was just low to trust Naruto when she was right there to explain herself. Just let her speak for once, she wanted to say but he of course, had something else to say.

He waved his arm toward the ramen shop, eyes glaring. "Don’t be rude. He's right there. What is wrong with you?"

Indeed, Naruto was sitting inside Ichiraku with Jiraiya at his side, munching on pork ramen while the pair fought outside. Kakashi was eating with them, taking a break from his work to just relax with his master and student when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Y/N stumbling down the street on her crutch. 

He heard when she got back home that she was in the infirmary for a couple days. He had no idea for what reason until Naruto explained to him what happened. She was being needlessly reckless on the battlefield, relying too much on her kekkei genkai and not enough on her brain. She threw herself right in the way of an enemy, for what reason, he didn't know. All he knew was that she could have died and she didn't seem to care one bit.

Rightfully so, he was mad. Normally he preferred not to make a scene in the open like this, but there wasn't anyone else around and he was red-hot.

She huffed. "He knows I don't mean anything bad by that. How could he not? I'm also his sensei, you know."

"Doesn't matter," Kakashi brushed off her words. "What you did was dangerous and you don't seem to care. Next time what are you gonna do? Run right into the arms of the enemy?"

"No, I would never. Kakashi, you're just being a jerk right now. I'm literally injured from the hip down and you have to yell at me? Jeez, just be grateful I'm alive, okay? Things happen," she tried to reason with him, but he didn't acknowledge it. He wasn't exactly feeling all that rational.

"Things don't just happen like that."

She groaned, "Well apparently they do, because it happened to me."

His eye narrowed and she noticed the way he clenched and unclenched his fists a couple times by his sides. Clearly he was just trying to channel his anger, but he really had no reason to be so upset. She hadn't done anything to him. He really needed to relax. "This is so like you L/N's. Always so emotional. Always thinking you're stronger than you actually are."

"Excuse you-"

"Get a grip, you aren't going to live forever."

"First off, don't interrupt me. Second, don't talk about my clan ever again, you hear me, Hatake? We don't live to please your dumbass," she cursed, how dare he say shit about her clan. That asshole. He was just being so...so unlike himself. She had no idea what had gotten into him, but she hated it and just wanted to continue on her way before he said something else stupid. 

Normally, she didn't expect to be bombarded in the street nearly the second she leaves the hospital, but Kakashi never fails to surprise her.

"I've got to go. Don't bother following me." With that, she took off past him, rushing as fast as she could on her crutch, which was pathetically slow. Silently, she cringed at how ridiculous she must look waddling around like this in a fit of rage. Nevermind that. She had better things to do.

He huffed out the breath he had been holding to walk back into the ramen shop, taking his seat beside Naruto and slouching down into the stool. Immediately, Master Jiraiya met his eyes, wisdom about to drip from his tongue once again. "You need to go apologize."

"Why? She clearly doesn't want that right now."

"Well, to start, you insulted her clan which is a big no-no. Imagine saying that to an Uchiha. You're lucky she let you off so easily."

"Yeah, Kakashi. You kinda just attacked her out there in the street," Naruto added.

Jiraiya continued, "Mainly though, the longer you let her stay angry, the worse it'll be for you in the end. Trust me."

"She said don't follow her."

"And you're actually going to listen?" The older man laughed. "You and her fighting reminded me a lot of young Tsunade and I. And let me tell you, you don't just let a woman like that go. I sure did. It’s not a fun time."

"Yeah, Kakashi sensei, go find Y/N."

The jounin stood from his stool and slapped a ramen voucher onto the counter top to pay for his meal. This really didn't seem like a good idea, he had to admit. But he would trust the process. This was the author of his favorite romance series, after all. How could he get something like this wrong? To put blind faith into Jiraiya on realistic romantic matters was probably the not the wisest thing to do, but it was the only thing he had to go on. "I'll go, but this doesn't sound like good advice."

"If you let this go, she's might run into the arms of another man for comfort. Do you want that?"

Tch, there was no way she was gonna do that. She barely had any friends. If anything she would go see Kurenai. Still, he pulled back the cloth at the entrance and muttered, "I gotta catch up to her."

"'Atta boy," Jiraiya cheered, waving off the copy nin. "Another bowl, Naruto?"

"Yes, please!"

Kakashi walked down the streets, looking for the woman he was sent on a mission to find and apologize to. He searched through the shops and the stands for her, walked by her apartment no sign of her. It wasn't until he stumbled by the bookstore that he found her eyeing down the display out front, leaning comfortably on her crutch.

"Y/N," he called to her, and he watched as she tensed up without a second. He caught up to her, walking to stand beside her in front of the store windows. "I need to talk to you."

"What do you want?" She questioned, peering over at him with a quirked brow. He seemed calmed down by now. Thankfully. "Also, didn't I tell you not to follow me?"

"You did, but Jiraiya told me to apologize."

"So this isn't even on your own accord, you're doing it because Jiraiya told you so." He groaned. Of course she would twist his words and find some way to make things bad on his end. She was angry with him, what did he expect to happen? Her to accept him with open arms?

"Listen, I'm sorry for yelling at you. I was just overwhelmed."

"With what? I wasn't paying attention to anything but the anger." She picked at her finger nails in an attempt to remain casual, but really she was just itching to hear what he had to say. She was willing to give him a second chance, only because he was normally so sweet. This was just out of character for him.

He replied, "I was scared for you. Naruto told me about how you nearly died, and I was upset that you did that. I was upset because I could only think about what if you had been overpowered and the enemy killed you." His explanation was weak, but he hoped she would accept it as truth. He really wasn't lying. When he heard she was in the hospital indefinitely, he nearly had a heart attack himself. He worried for her every time she left on a mission without him. It just meant that if she failed, he wasn't there to protect her himself. He couldn't handle that thought.

"So you were worried?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's sweet of you, isn't it?"

"I'd miss you, you know. If you died."

She froze. That wasn't what she expected him to say. When she looked over at him, he was just staring into the storefront window, but she could feel the sadness in waves running off his body. She wobbled around on her crutch to face him, a hand getting coming up to rest on his shoulder. "It's okay."

"I don't want you going on missions without me because every time it scares the shit out of me thinking they'll bring you back dead. Every time. I don't know why."

"It's normal to worry for your teammates."

"It's not the same, and you know it."

"Ah." And she felt it. Even if it was just a little hint of something, she felt his infatuation roll off his body and she took it in like a drink of cold water. So refreshing. Was he attracted to her? She had no idea before this that he cared so much but from the sound of it, he had some strong feelings attached. She wanted to reach out and hug him, tell him it was going to be okay, but that felt too personal. Instead, she leant back and muttered, "You know, Kakashi, I worry about you too."

"It's good we both have someone who cares, right?"

"Right."

"Well, I should be on my way, but, uh, if you need some help getting up to your apartment-"

"I should be fine."

"Okay, good."

"Yeah, so uh, see you," she turned on her heel and started heading in the other direction toward her home when suddenly, his hand reached out to stop her. 

"Wait, Y/N. I think..."

"What is it?"

"It's just that I need you. Please be careful from now on."

She stopped, turning around just enough to get a good look at his face. He only watched her, a glimmer of something she didn't recognize in his eye. 

"As long as you take care of yourself too, Mister."

"Y/N, I…"

All she could feel was a rough fabric rubbing against her face for a second before the full picture came into view. 

Mask to lips. I repeat, mask to lips.

She stared at him, as he kissed her right there in front of their favorite bookstore. When he pulled away after a second, he seemed just as shocked as she was. She pressed a hand to her forehead and struggled to find the right words to say. 

Kakashi Hatake just kissed her. 

And she definitely liked it. More than any other kiss she’d ever had before. She loved it. Mask or not, that was one of the best surprises of her entire life, and she honestly had no idea how to react. She settled for the easiest possible thing, running in the opposite direction, give herself time to think over what that meant for the two of them if anything at all. Kakashi wasn’t the type to have a girlfriend, he was always single. There just wasn’t room in his life for her.

There was plenty room in her life to fit him in comfortably. And there was more than enough room in her bed as well. 

Flustered, with heat coming to sit in her cheeks and run up her neck, she turned and motioned in the direction of her home. She just had too many thoughts to sit here and pretend she wasn’t dying inside from the tension.

"I've got to run home now," she managed to say. "Well, not run, with these crutches and all, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I should be going too. I'll see you around,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. 

"See you."

And into separate directions they went, just as confused as ever.

______

"Kakashi, I swear to God, if you don't stay on your side of the bed, I'm gonna-

"You'll what? Hit me? Go ahead. You're the one that keeps snoring."

"Shut up!" she exclaimed, rolling over in the bed and planting her fist directly in the middle of his chest. He didn't even flinch, she hadn't meant to hurt him anyway. She was just so annoyed. You would think that the stoic Hatake would be easy to sleep beside but no, he was a pain in the ass. He was rude. He was way too hot under the sheets. He still smelled like dog even after taking a bath. Just overall a bad experience, definitely 0 out of 10.

"What? It's the truth."

She groaned, throwing one of her arms over her eyes, burying her nose in the crook of her elbow. "Whatever. Don't ever mention my snoring again. It’s embarrassing me." She was self-conscious. She was usually so good at maintaining a cool and calm presence and now Kakashi was seeing that all crumble. Great. 

"Fine."

"Can't you just stay on your side so we can both sleep comfortably?"

"Can't you just stop snoring so I can sleep comfortably?" 

What a bastard. She could practically feel him snickering beneath his mask, and she felt frustration bubbling up in her chest. He was annoying. The audacity of this man, laughing and causing trouble in the night when they clearly had a mission to continue tomorrow. She could actually feel the delight radiating off his form.

She jumped up from her spot and threw herself onto the man beside her, attempting to make a vicious grab for the throat so she could maybe shut him up for just a few seconds. He dodged easily, taking her wrists in his calloused hand and lowering them to rest on his chest. Still, he continued to laugh at her. She felt like an utter joke sitting there on his stomach, looking at him through loose strands of her hair. 

She grumbled under her breath, her cheeks puffing out full of embarrassment, "Stupid."

"Me? Stupid? Look at you."

She replied swiftly, "What about me? You're the one with that ugly grin on your face." Quickly, she snatched her hands out from under his to cross her arms over her chest. She rocked back a bit on her knees to get a better look at his indeed ugly face. 

Except he definitely wasn't ugly, and that grin was more devilishly handsome than anything else. And honestly, she felt herself starting to get flustered in the position she'd put herself in. Of course she didn't hate Kakashi. He was one of her friends and coworkers. It was just that sometimes he could be casually attractive and she found herself falling under his spell. 

He just looked so fucking good lying there, staring up at her with a glimmer in his dark eyes. She could see the smile outlined under his mask. His hands had felt warm and firm around her own fingers. She missed his touch, there she said it, any touch on her body from Kakashi Hatake felt like heaven. He was far too cute, and the soft contact between them drove her crazy.

She wanted to punch herself for thinking such silly things. This was Kakashi, one of her frenemies. Not boyfriend material. Stupid. Silly. 

If only he didn't look so good, Jesus christ. Get your brain out of the gutter, Y/N.

Little did she know, his mind was already waist deep in those damn gutters and he was loving it.

"You really think that?"

"What? That you're ugly?" She asked, tilting her head to the side just a bit as if to think about it. Only a second later, another mischievous smile crossed her lips. "Of course."

He lifted his fingers to slid along her waist and down to her hips, fingers curling ever so slightly around her curves. She shuddered as his hands slid down to hold the sides of her bare thighs in his hands, his warm, strong hands with the softest fingertips. She wanted to die.

Had they kissed before? Yes. We're they somewhat romantically involved? Maybe. Did that give him any good reason to rest his rough hands on her thighs like that? Probably, and her thoughts were running a mile a minute at this point. 

"Kakashi...stop that," she said softly, her voice lowering from how it was before. She suddenly felt a lot smaller, scared even. Hooking up with Kakashi wasn't something she planned on doing anytime in the near future, if at all. He was her friend, and she felt strange sitting in his lap with his hands all over her. It felt so right but wrong at the same time, like she was breaking the law. Well, laws of friendship that is.

She cared about Kakashi, more than she wanted to admit. He wasn't just a friend, he was something weirdly in between and she couldn't exactly put her finger on how she felt about him. All she knew was that if she was going to have sex with this man, it would be the right way. They would have to date first. She wasn't just gonna sleep around this time. He was different. 

She wanted to impress him, to make him smile and laugh, to take him out to dinner and hold hands on their way home, to kiss at her doorstep. She wanted all of that before any of this.

His hands dropped from her sides and she crawled away from him, grabbing her blanket and cradling herself in it. "Listen, Y/N, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I know, it's not your fault. Don't worry about it."

It was quiet. Just the sounds of both their breaths filling the air and the crickets chirping in the darkness outside. She shifted in her blanket to rest her head on the wall, leaning against it with her shoulder. He remained on his back, staring up at the empty ceiling tiles. 

It was now so terribly awkward. Thanks, Y/N.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You, uh, don't snore all that much. I was just teasing you."

"Thanks," she exhaled. "You're not as ugly as I said."

"I know."

Wow, Kakashi. So modest.

Her words fell right into place as she spoke, emotions slipping out with each breath. She looked at his profile in the dark, the way his bedhead stood on end, his nose pointed upward and his lips sat calmly, the curve of his chin under the edge of his mask, the way his eyes just sat there unmoving and gentle, brows soft above the eye. She took in all of him as she confessed, "I just don't want it to be like this. I don't want to fall for you this way."

"I get it."

"I just think that you and I could be something different. You're not like the other guys to me, at least, I don't think of you that way," she took a deep breath. He still stared deep in the ceiling, and somehow it made her comfortable enough to confess everything she'd been feeling. It was as if he could just lay there and listen without words forever. "I don't want you to just fuck me before we really...well I don't know, we've never even been on a date. I...I think I'm ready to fall in love with you."

"Then let's do it."

She peered over at him, lips agape with surprise. She hadn't expected much at all, but certainly not that. "What?"

"When we get back to the village, I'll take you on a date, more if things go well. We can take it as slow as you want," he told her, turning to lay on his side, facing her. He watched as she cuddled further into the comforter, only a peek of her face in his view. She was actually kinda cute through all those worn and torn layers. "I don't think I can let you go this time."

"Really?"

"Anything for you."

She ducked her head down to stare at the hardwood beneath her feet. She was overwhelmed by how nice he was being. Normally, it didn't go like this. Things normally got sexual so quick there wasn't even a chance for these sorts of conversations. It was just different with Kakashi. She could say no to him and expect better, because she knew he could deliver. "No one has ever treated me like this before."

He smiled. "Well, it's about time someone did."

"Can you hold me?"

"Come on." He lifted his arm up with the covers attached so she could crawl over and burrow herself next him, tucked right against his side. He rested his arm around her shoulders and held her close to his chest. Things were looking good for the both of them. Better than they had in a long time.

He wished this kind of thing could last forever. The beating of her heart, the laughter in her voice, the shine in her eyes. He just wished he could have bottled it all up and held it close to him for the rest of his life. 

But he waited too long, and the opportunity slipped from his grasp.

______

The pair fought hard. Kakashi was better than her, everyone knew that. The enemy targeted her for that reason. It was clear as day that she was important to Kakashi, and the enemy quickly caught onto that. He was quick to bring the knife to her neck, pressing the woman’s back tightly to his chest. The blade stung her skin, already piercing the flesh from the bit of pressure he applied.

She cried out, feeling a trail of blood begin running down her neck. Her nails clawed at his arm, desperate to get him to release her from his clutches, but he persisted. One hand held onto her chin tightly, keeping her face from thrashing, and the other continued to apply more and more pressure into the blade. 

For the first time in a long time, she found herself feeling unrestricted fear. She was scared. Scared for her life. She’d never been in this situation before, feeling so completely and utterly helpless like a deer caught in the headlights. Kakashi was right there, she should have known everything was going to be okay. After all, she had the village’s strongest veteran on her side.

It wasn’t the pain that caused the tears to bubble up in the corners of her eyes, no, it was Kakashi. The way his eyes darted over to the them, and she could feel his heart beginning to race, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, and the fear creeping up into his heart. He never wore his heart on his sleeve. He was so closed off, sometimes she could only get a wisp of emotion from him, especially the ones that showed such vulnerability. 

Now it all seemed to come tumbling out like a landslide. She was drowning in fear, his and her own. 

“Let her go,” he called out, practically pleading with the man across from him, but it was in vain. 

“Like I’d listen to some filthy leaf shinobi,” the spy replied angrily. He felt so hot, burning up with so much anger she wanted to throw up. What had they done to upset him this badly? Her jaw was starting to ache from being held so tightly, and she swore she could taste blood running down her throat. This was bad. This was so terribly, miserably bad. 

Kakashi stood there, his hands hovering at his sides, unknowing of what to do. She was already bleeding out all over the collar of her shirt. If he made a single move, the man could easily finish the job with one fatal swipe. The copy nin felt cornered. Hopeless. What was there left to do? He’d let the love of his life fall in the hands of some petty criminal. 

Come on, think of something. Anything. Just think of something.

“What? You upset I’ve got your little girlfriend here?”

God, he was so desperate. The man taunting him didn’t help at all. He just felt himself spiralling deeper into hopelessness. He bargained, “Please, just let her go. I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

It wouldn’t work though. This man was set in his ways, and there was no changing that. He came into this fight knowing exactly what he wanted to do. And he was going to finish the job. 

“This is for what you shinobi have done to my people,” he sneered before she felt the knife dip further into her neck, sliding painfully across her throat. He dropped her head from his grasp, and as soon as he had, her body crumbled down to the ground. She collapsed in a bleeding heap on the dirt. 

The criminal quickly ran into the forest behind them, getting lost among the trees and the bushes within seconds. None of that mattered though. Kakashi could only run over to her limp body lying there on the ground, sputtering and coughing on thick blood filling her throat and lungs. Her cheeks and lips painted red now from spitting so much up. He fell to his knees beside her body, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a tear drip down his face.

She cried, hot tears running down her cheeks into the dirt on either side of her head. She cried for her pathetic self, having been attacked and injured in this way. She cried for Kakashi, feeling the pain and sadness, the panic, radiating off his form. She took in every emotion he was feeling, wanting to savor being with him for as long as she had, to fully take him in one last time. 

“Y/N, it’s gonna be okay,” he whispered, his hands running over her hair and cheek, smearing blood on her skin and his fingers. “We’ll bring you back to the village. The Hokage can fix you.” His words were so soft into the air, like if he spoke any louder he would hurt her.

They both knew that none of what he was saying was true. She was as good as dead.

She lifted her hand weakly to sit on his other hand. “I…” The woman took a labored breath.. “Love you, Kashi.”

“No, no, no. Don’t say that,” he hushed her, feeling his heart grow heavier in his chest with every second that passed, every look at her bloody neck and face, her laboring chest as she took hopeless breaths. He was falling apart in this moment, desperate for fate to change, for her to magically be better. He choked, “You can’t die, Y/N.”

“It’s okay.” Her words were slurred and hard to hear, liquid bubbling up in her throat to the point she was almost incomprehensible. “I love you,” she confessed once again. She wanted those to be her last ever words to him, the words he would remember for the rest of his life. To know someone out there loved him more than anything else.

He had to know that he was her everything. He was the best thing that ever happened to her, and she was going to miss him so terribly wherever her soul went after this. She just wished there was more time to tell him everything she felt. Yet, time was passing faster than she thought, and all those words felt impossible.

“I love you, too. You have to live for me. Just keep breathing, it's going to be okay.”

“It...hurts.”

More misery erupted his chest, and he found himself wanting to scream. Tears dripped steadily down both his cheeks now as he watched this woman die in front of him, one of the only people he truly needed in his life. “I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry I let this happen to you.”

She nodded faintly, her eyes beginning to close. He was starting to panic. Was this his last moment to say goodbye? Their time together was so short, how was this fair? He’d already lost everyone he ever cared about, and now this? He felt like the gods were laughing down at him and his misfortune. 

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t know how I’ll do this without you.”

She didn’t respond, but she was still breathing. 

“Y/N, please.”

And he watched as her chest fell still and her labored breaths were silent on his ears. He found himself gathering her form up against his chest, her head cradled in the crook of his neck, just sobbing into her hair, weeping for a long lasting love gone in an instant. 

 He carried her body home that day himself. Something he never anticipated happening, but should have prepared for. He always thought he was going to watch as someone else carried her home to him, death long gone before he had the chance to see. He never thought it would be right in front of him. He thought he could protect her, save her from the clutches of fate. He was so wrong.

Kakashi was alone once again.

[batboyimagines]

Cold-Blooded [Damian Wayne x Male Reader]

Your Dad and your Ma’s relationship is... rocky to say the least. They were never actually together, no marriage or anything. It was just one night of bad decisions that made you.

So your birth wasn’t well planned. You think the reason your ma even kept you was because she was lonely. She’s raised you to the best her ability for they past fourteen years but it was only recently your dad found out. Now they have joint custody.

See, all of that isn’t normal per say, but it’s not bizarre or anything. Just two inexperienced, lonely people screwing up in more ways than one to make a whole nother screw up. However, your parents aren’t exactly average. One’s not even human. Anymore.

Medusa and John Constantine. By the gods, that’s probably the worst match imaginable. Moms great and all, you really do love her, but she’s a little crazy. Being exiled on an island all alone does that to you. And Constantine’s just... a mess. Not even a hot one.

Even so, you don’t mind being pawned between the two. They’re both great in their own ways and you appreciate the both of them. Right now you’re hanging out at your dad's house. Though it feels more like hanging out with an awkward uncle than a dad.

It’s nearing about 8:00 in the morning, not that you know that. You’re asleep on the couch, gazing blankly at the ceiling. You forgot to close your eyes while you sleep again. It’s sort of creepy.

A sudden pounding on the door startles you up, breaking the staring contest you were having with the ceiling. A contest which you totally won. You blink dazedly and the pounding starts up again.

Mournfully slipping out from under the soft, warm stack of blankets you slept under, you lumber towards the door. You squint through the peephole.

Through the peephole you see a warped view of six costumes lunatics of all sizes. You lean back from the door and let yourself have a begrudged yawn. Gods, it’s way too early for this. Dad’s still asleep even with all the racket.

The littlest lunatic in the hood pounds the door hard enough for it to shake in its frame and you decide you’ve had enough. You don’t bother with the chain latch and just open the door a crack.

“Do you know how early it is?” You groan. The little lunatic, who is actually around the same height as you, scoffs.

“It’s eight pm. A normal person would be awake and ready for the day by now.”

“Well, I don’t know how you people are up then because anyone who dresses like that isn’t normal.” The green guy snorts.

“Listen, we’re sorry to wake you, but is this the residency of John Constantine?” The guy in the black leotard asks.

“... no, why?” You ask suspiciously.

“We are the Teen Titans and we are in need of magical assistance.” The really tall, really exposed, redhead says. “We require his assistance, on behalf of the justice league.” You tense a bit at that.

Okay, you don’t hold the things that the gods did to your mom against those two members of the justice league, Aquaman and Wonder Woman. They seem like nice folks who really do want to do good and not for the selfish, vain reasons gods usually do, but…

They got their abilities from the same gods who really, really messed your mom up for no good reason. So call you petty, but you don’t want to associate with them.

“Sorry, he’s not here.” You say attempting to close the door on them. The hooded lunatic jams the door with his hand.

“This is a matter of utmost importance, you will take us to Constantine.” He demands. You scowl at him and try to shut the door on his fingers.

“Screw off weirdo, he’s not here!”

“He is, you are lying!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am NOT!”

“Are TOO!”

“Christ on a cracker, what the bloody hell is going on?!” Your dad shouts, slamming the door shut, fully unlocking it and swinging it back open. Looks like the racket finally got him up. He sags at the sight of the troupe of crazies. “The hell do you people want?”

“We need your help.” Leotard man says.

“Of course you do. With what, I mean?”

“My father, Trigon, has possessed the justice league and we need a way to stop him.” The girl in purple replies. Your dad tenses.

“Trigon, eh? Sounds like a piece of work.” He says. You pretend to cough.

“Says the piece of work.” You tease under your breath because what’s even the point of a dad if you can’t make jabs at his life choices? He gives you a look and you just grin up at him.

“Why should I help you? The kind of magic that I’d have to use against that guy is expensive and tricky. I’m not gonna do it outta’ the good of my heart.”

“Because if you don’t help us, he could destroy the world.” Leotard says.

“Of course he could.” Dad breathes out as he sags against the door frame. You pat his arm. He looks at you and you give him an awkward smile. It seems to help him to a decision. He straightens up. “Well, I guess I don’t want the world to end. I need somewhere for this one to grow up.” He pats your head affectionately.

“Thanks.” You say, a bit embarrassed. Half because that’s the sappiest thing he’s ever said to you and half because, well, it’s nice to know you mean something to him. Even if he didn’t know that you existed until a few months ago.

“Well, come on in then.” He says turning from the doorway and into the apartment. The troupe of crazy people that nearly just broke into your house follow. You flounder for a moment.

“Wait, seriously? We’re just gonna let some random strangers, who nearly just broke in our house, inside just like that?” Your dad looks a bit guiltily at you. 

“Sorry bud, but this happens a lot more than I’d like.” He raises his hand hesitantly and gently lays it on your shoulder. “You can go back to your mother while I deal with this, if you’d like.”

“No, no it’s okay,” You quickly reassure, “it’s not bad it’s just… kinda weird. You know it’s weird right?” He snorts.

“Of course I do, but to be honest it’s almost normal for my line of work.”

“You should get into a different line of work then.”

“You know, I probably should.” 

Leotard man clears his throat- you know what? You want to know their names before they commandeer any more of your father-son bonding time. “By the way, what are your names? I feel I should know them before we do anything else.”

“Oh! My apologies,” Redhead replies, “I am Koriand’r, of Tamaran. And this is Blue Beetle, Beast boy, Raven, Nightwing, and Robin. We are the Teen Titans.”

“No offense, but you look more young adult than teenager?” She smiles sheepishly.

“Well, I was part of the original titans. I am now the leader.”

“Oh, okay, makes sense.”

“Alright,” your dad cuts in, “so what’s your plan for Trigon? What exactly do you want from me?” He and the Teen Titans begin to plan. You stick around for a bit, to get an idea of what your dad does. It’s not very interesting. So ten minutes into planning, you slip away to make breakfast.

Now, your dad is a mess. Not kind of a mess, a straight up mess. The kitchen is almost a reflection of your father. It’s a huge mess. There’s takeout boxes and dirty dishes strewn across every counter, no room for literally anything there is so much garbage. And this is only a few weeks worth of build up. Dad actually cleaned up before you arrived. 

Before you can even begin cooking you have to clean off the counters for some space. You’re trying to balance takeout boxes on top of the overflowing garbage can when a voice sounds from the doorway.

“This place is repulsive.” 

“HUAUGH FUCK!” You whip around flinging the takeout boxes across the room. Hooded lunatic, uh Robin you think, dodges them expertly. He seems a little surprised. You clutch at your chest, “Jesus, Christ man!”

“Apologies, I… did not mean to startle you.” He raises his hands a bit, as if calming a rapid animal. 

“Apology accepted.” You calm your rapid heart. Your freak out seems to have spooked any animosity Robin had earlier. The two of you stand around awkwardly. He’s a stranger in your house and he’s in a strangers house, which does not make for easy conversational partners. He looks around, avoiding your gaze. His eye catches on a painting on the wall.

“That is… an interesting picture.” He tries.

“Uh yeah, that’s actually a picture of my mom.” You say, playing with your hands.

“That is Medusa.”

“Yeah, she’s my mom.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

“She doesn’t actually look like that, that painting’s really inaccurate.”

“Why does your father keep it up?”

“I dunno,” You’d feel weird cooking with him watching you, so you make your way past Robin and into the dining room, “I think either pettiness or affection.”

“Pettiness?” He asks following you.

“Yeah, I mean, they aren’t together? I think they were at least acquaintances before they, uh, ‘conceived’ me. But they don’t seem to like each other very much nowadays.” You say, pulling a chair out from the table. You push the one across from you out with your bare foot and gesture towards it. Robin hesitates a moment, but decides to sit down. “What about your parents? They like each other any more than mine do?”

“No,” He snorts, “I think they like each other much less.”

“Oh.”

The conversation stalls. You shift uncomfortably. Robin stares a hole into the grimy table. 

“Why not?”

“Pardon?”

“Why don’t your parents like each other?” He seems to think over his answer. 

“They are on opposite sides of the law.” 

“Oh, that’s tough.”

“Yes.”

“There’s tons of couples on opposite sides of the law though.” 

“Not them. My father’s moral code cannot bend to suit my mother.”

“Ah, I see.” You lean across the table and pat his arm. He looks at it a bit suspiciously, you pull it back. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“No need to apologize, I’ve already come to terms with it.”

“Yeah, well, still sucks.” You say standing up. “I was gonna make food, wanna lend me a hand? I’m still new to cooking appliances. And electricity.”

“How are these things new to you?” He asks, even as he stands up to help anyway.

“Dude. I grew up on an island with no electricity or WiFi. All of this,” you gesture to the space around you, “is totally alien to me.”

“Ah, I see. Yes, I will assist you.”

“Thanks.”

He failed to mention that he has never used a toaster either. You both nearly burn down the apartment, had it not been your dad’s fire extinguisher.

TO BE CONTINUED

[pallasperilous]

Occursus

Castiel/Dean Winchester Gen/Teen, 4341 words 15x20 coda  AO3 version “The natural environment of the human soul is a human body,” Cas says. “Humans have yet to meet a foreign substrate that they don’t immediately attempt to colonize. My form in Hell was not an exception.” 

Then he shuts his mouth very deliberately and gestures back to Dean like his mic is going live in three, two. “Or the bit where my soul gave you some kind of STD?” Dean finishes. “It was a poor analogy. I apologize.” “So what’s a better one?” Castiel drums his fingers for a second. “It’s more like…the way a parasitic jewel wasp injects a cockroach with venom, and transforms it into a willing host for wasp larvae.” “Holy shit are you ever bad at this,” Dean says, with that signature brand of fond horror he special-orders just for Castiel, Angel of the Gourd.

It’s half past midnight by the time Dean gets another run at Cas.

Granted, what the fuck does half past midnight even mean here, where time is as free as tap water? Why does anybody even bother? For all it matters, Dean could set his watch to eleventy minutes past twenty o’ nope and still never miss last call.

Then again, somebody felt it necessary to invent the idea of Tuesday in the first place, and Dean’s not gonna volunteer himself for the task of replacing it with something better. What’s important is that he’s survived (or rather, he hasn’t survived) a battery of poignant moments and tearful reunions. He and Sam hugged out burdens registering in the triple digits. They even had a little fight, pretty much for the fun of it, while Ellen fucking Harvelle watched them over the bar with her eyes shining. She still charged them, though.

Right at the beginning of the party Dean and Castiel had their eyes-across-the-room thing, followed by the same magnetic, exhausted embrace they’ve shared on just about every plane of reality now. Dean supposes he could ask Cas for a nickel tour of the Empty just so they could hit for the cycle, but he’d really rather not. Sam let them eke out a few gruff, tear-choked monosyllables before diving in, sweeping Cas up in a bear hug and laughing like a fucking kid. Dean doesn’t push it, because it’s been longer for Sam, after all. Or something.

 And now it’s quiet, just the jukebox and the clink of glasses back in the kitchen, a few folks murmuring in booths. It might be dark outside, it might not; it’s waiting on Dean’s opinion before it commits to anything. And so is Cas, who is standing in the warm glow of the jukebox, hands in his pockets.

 Dean walks up, leans against it, bottle still dangling from one hand.

“C’mon, sunshine. I’ll show you yours, you show me mine.”

Cas looks up and into Dean’s eyes with the wary, elegant patience of a deer. “What is it that you would be showing me, Dean?”

Dean gives him a long, languid blink and bites his lip, and Castiel lags for half a second before rolling his own eyes. “I see death hasn’t refined your sense of humor.”

“Nope. Guess the billionth time aint the charm.”

Cas remains stonefaced, which means a corresponding you dumbass blush starts crawling up the sides of Dean’s neck. The jukebox switches records like it’s making a suggestion.

“I’m gonna sit down outside,” Dean says. “C’mon and sit down with me. There’s a patio somewhere, right? Ellen was always talking about adding one out back. No way she hasn’t bossed somebody into buildin’ it.”

“There’s a patio,” Cas says, taking his hands out of his pockets.

 Heaven’s patio is pretty nice; twenty square feet, some scattered picnic tables, fences covered in ivy and string lights. It still smells like fresh pine boards. There’s even a fire pit, which seems kinda bougie for the Roadhouse, but hell with it, it’s warm and pretty, and since when did pretentious people get to lay claim to “a hole with a fire in it”? There’s no moon overhead, and so the Milky Way is giving them the full monty — the runnelled spine of it, the ribcage packed with galaxies.

“Are they all alive?” Dean asks. The warmth from inside leaks out of his collar, wisps away.

“Who?”

Dean points up. “The stars. They always make a big deal about how most of the stars you can see from Earth have been dead for millions of years by the time we get the light from ‘em. That still true here? Or is everything on auto-renewal?”

“That’s a very complicated question,” Cas says, not looking up, only at Dean. He does that a lot, Dean knows, but it turns out to mean something different than what Dean had always assumed, which was ironically pretty similar to what it actually meant, but was reassuringly unactionable and therefore unfuckupable.

“I’m a very complicated guy,” Dean says.

Castiel smiles at that. “I don’t actually know the answer,” he admits. “And it would take an extremely long time to investigate. There are some other things I’d rather do first.”

“What, you can’t just call the kid for directory assistance?”

Castiel lets a good-humored sigh. “Like many young people these days, Jack prefers to avoid the phone.”

This is a solid riff, and Dean respects it. He picks the table closest to the fire and takes a bench and Cas sits next to him, instead of opposite. Dean thought he managed to break him of this habit a few years ago, but here all things are made whole again.

“So what,” Cas says, without a single molecule of playfulness or seduction, “is it that you want us to show each other?”

“Yeah, I was…it was a dumb joke. But I mean it, just not in a ‘playing doctor’ way.”

Castiel frowns, tightens his lips; the firelight throws a fluttering shadow across his face.

“I mean…Christ.” Dean takes a medicinal slug of his dwindling beer. “I don’t really look like this anymore either, right?” And he gestures at his usual shitshow personal presentation, which death has also noticeably failed to refine.

Castiel frowns, smoothes his hand across the surface of the table. “This is a corporeal world, Dean. It operates on a different set of rules, but your body here is no more of an illusion than it was on earth.”

“Seriously?” Dean ponders a second, squints through the dim light at his fingernails, at the high-resolution grime contained therein. “Jesus, that sounds like a lot of work. At least compared to Holodeck Heaven.”

“It is. But we didn’t build this place to be a...a…doorprize. It’s a real world,” Castiel enthuses, looming forward. “It’s the one that should have been created for all of you in the first place.” He pauses, glances down. “For all of us.”

Dean shrugs. “Okay, so no holograms. I’ll keep all that in mind next time Charlie tries to convince me to go skydiving.”

Castiel snorts, but not in pure aggravation, so Dean feels like he’s finally got a point on the board. “What I’m sayin’ is…physical or not, this place has different rules, right? So could I look at you without my eyeballs exploding? The…you know, the angel parts of you. Not just your vessel,” and Dean fwippies his hand at Cas to indicate that true beauty is contained within and Dean is completely indifferent to the fact this dork-ass alien managed to bodysnatch a guy who’s never dipped below an 8.5.

“It isn’t a vessel anymore. We can create our own bodies, now.”

“Peachy,” Dean clips, because that shit is a little late coming off the line.

Castiel sighs. “You could see me in that form without coming to harm. But you should know that I don’t consider it any more a reflection who I am than this form. Not anymore.”

Dean rolls the bottle towards him, nudges a knuckle. “You’re a real boy now, huh?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Castiel says, and smiles a smile so small that Dean would need a microscope to figure out if it’s pleased or pained.

So Dean thwacks the bottle down on the totally-real table and claps his totally-real hands. “Well then let’s go. Hit me with that angel weirdness. If we’re gonna do this, I gotta taste all thirty-one flavors.”

Castiel smiles a little more convincingly, but it still doesn’t reach his eyes. “There are really only the two,” he says, and holds his palms out to the warmth of the fire.

“Great, then we’ll be done in time to catch Letterman. Then if you’re good maybe you can help me shimmy out of this thing.”

Cas cocks his head. “Out of which thing?”

“This super real heavenly meat-suit, dude. It’s not fair if only one of us gets naked. Peep show has to go both ways. I see your angel-face, you see my soul.”

Cas looks stricken, like Dean is asking to suck on his toes next to a playground. “I mean, unless that’d fuck you up,” Dean adds.

“No,” Castiel replies, a little absently. “It wouldn’t fuck me up. But it…wouldn’t really accomplish anything, either.”

“What, no soul kink? That’s bullshit and you know it. You love this crap.”

Castiel replies, “Your soul is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” with the easy confidence of a regular latte order. With the same uncanny, 2 Blessed 2 B Stressed face he had when Dean plowed Ruby’s knife hilt-deep into Jimmy Novak’s sternum, that he had when the Empty collapsed him  like a carcass in an acid bath.

That face shuts Dean right the fuck up, because it sends him skipping backwards into that fucking basement, where his phone is buzzing and the gritty concrete chill of the floor is seeping through his jeans into the useless meat of his legs and leeching into the hot, wet channels of his piece of shit heart.

Turns out you can work up a good little panic attack in heaven, which seems like a significant oversight.

From a million miles away he feels Cas’s warm, dry palm slide over the back of his hand –– there’s a ring there now that Dean lost down a motel sink drain ages ago, is nobody spotting continuity errors here?—then Cas’s hand tightens on his and it feels like a Xanax kicking in. (The good kind, direct from the hot nurse with the little paper cup, not the kind you get in a from a shady burnout at a truckstop, that’s been ground up with baking soda or benadryl and carefully remolded, as if you could possibly give that much of a shit when you’re freaking out bad enough to buy Xanax at a truckstop.)

Point being, he calms the fuck down.

Cas has good hands. They can do a lot of impressive shit, and they look nice doing it. They don’t look like –– they’ve never looked like –– they belong to somebody whose main job is destroying people, places, or things. They’re hands that how to play the cello, or make tables from reclaimed wood, or give soapy, encompassing handjobs in the shower on cold evenings.

“It’s been years, though,” Dean rasps, not looking up yet. “I was a kid when you got me out of Hell, Cas. I’ve done a lot of shit since then. Maybe souls get stretch marks.”

Castiel’s hand tightens on his, clamps it down on the table. “I’ve always been able to see it.”

“Okay,” Dean mumbles, but Cas keeps on going –

“The only time I couldn’t see any part of your soul was when I was without grace, and I promise you that was one of the greatest deprivations imaginable.”

Dean snorts, looks away, but his hand is still on lockdown. “Worse than going hungry, huh?”

“Much.”

“Hey, what about Sam? Or, hell, fucking Donatello. They both were both walking around minus their creamy filling, and you didn’t say boo.”

Cas shrugs. “I can’t see their souls under ordinary circumstances.”

“So what, mine’s just extra loud, or day-glo, or what?”

“It’s both of those things, but that isn’t why,” Cas answers, and the boy is downright wry.

Dean tugs his hand out, raps his knuckles against the wood. “Okay, so stop bein’ coy and tell me before I get a complex. And if you say it’s because of love or some shit, I’m bailing to Rowena’s.”

“You infected me,” Cas says.

“Uh,” says Dean.

The fire pops and a log shifts; Cas glances over at the kerfuffle, absently lifts his fingers to his chin like he’s looking for an old scar. “In Hell, when I retrieved you…I had to grip your raw soul. I was meant to wear a gauntlet, so I wouldn’t be burned.”

Dean snickers. “You’re telling me you were supposed to be wearing a soul condom. What happened, you get too excited and forget to suit up? It’s okay, I know I’m a lot to take in.”

Castiel purses his lips. “No, I was properly armored. But my arm was torn off in combat shortly before I reached you.”

“Ouch.”

“Ouch,” Cas agrees. “I didn’t have time to retrieve the arm or its protection from the pit, so I had to grow a new one very quickly.”

Dean really should’ve switched to whiskey before starting this. “What, you didn’t pack a spare?” He wheezes.

“Ordinarily, yes, I would have had the resources, but I was equipped very lightly for that mission. It was a raid, not a siege. You understand the difference.”

“Sure, yeah, you left your emergency arms in the trunk. So you just popped out a new one. No big.”

“It was a big. Your soul was close enough that it forced me to grow a human arm, instead of a much quicker and more powerful extensor.”

“Okay, uh,” Dean pinches at the bridge of his nose, “there’s a lot to unpack there.”

“What part of it confuses you?”

“I dunno, the bit where apparently angels are I guess heavenly octopuses,”

“The plural in the Greek is octopodes,” Cas interjects, not without pleasure.

Dean glowers. “Or the part where you can apparently swap in different drill bits,” Dean continues,

“Mm,” Cas notes, careful not to open his mouth,

“Or that I, like, accidentally bullied you into growing a person arm,” and Dean pauses for breath here, which Cas evidently takes as permission to dive in with more Planet Earth commentary.

“The natural environment of the human soul is a human body,” he says. “Humans have yet to meet a foreign substrate that they don’t immediately attempt to colonize. My form in Hell was not an exception.” Then he shuts his mouth very deliberately and gestures back to Dean like his mic is going live in three, two.

“Or the bit where my soul gave you some kind of STD?” Dean finishes.

“It was a poor analogy. I apologize.”

“So what’s a better one?”

Castiel drums his fingers for a second, listens to the fire pop in its little cage. “It’s more like…the way a parasitic jewel wasp injects a cockroach with venom, and transforms it into a willing host for wasp larvae.”

“Holy shit are you ever bad at this,” Dean says, with that signature brand of fond horror he special-orders just for Castiel, Angel of the Gourd.

“What I’m trying to avoid saying,” Castiel sighs, “is that you rubbed off on me.”

Dean nods. “Yeah. That’s fair. I wouldn’t be dumb enough to say that around me, either.”  He lays a couple little pats on Cas’s hand. “Lookit you, though, seeing around that corner. I’m proud of you, man. That would’ve totally flipped your breaker back in the day.”

“Just one of the many ways you have reshaped me, Dean,” Cas says, with warm sarcasm.

“Alright, so you rawdogged me, I whammied you. Chocolate, peanut butter, peanut butter, chocolate.”

Cas’s forehead wrinkles in skepticism. “I still prefer the cockroach. But some part of your soul injected itself into one of my more exposed frequencies. Under different circumstances, I would’ve stopped and excised the affected area before it spread, but. I was being pursued, and the mission had taken much longer than any of us anticipated.”

“Us? Thought it was just you down there.”

Cas looks vaguely offended, straightens and folds his arms like he just remembered he’s giving a deposition. “No, of course not. Michael assigned sixty-six angels in eleven groups of six, each escorted to the field by a seraph. We struck simultaneously at six different areas in perdition. From there we dispersed to individual targets –– to cause as much chaos as possible in order to help obscure the object of our mission, and to increase the odds that one of us would actually find you.”

“And you were the lucky winner.” Dean pushes down a touch of sick shame at the thought of it — he’d been coiled up like a snake around somebody else’s torment, anesthetized by it. It was one of the random rags of infernal time where his own pain decreased in proportion to how much he dealt out, and that was the closest thing Hell had to a Friday night.

“I was,” Castiel nods. “I took some liberties with my assignment,” he adds, squinting. “I flattered myself that I shared a special affinity with The Righteous Man.”

“That guy always sounded like kind of a cunt to me,” Dean notes. “You know, not withstanding the fact that I’m him.”

Castiel shrugs. “I found you, and I did what was necessary to save you, and my siblings did what was necessary to save me.” A little falter enters his voice. “Only twelve of us returned from that mission.” Cas looks up, out, away. A dove coos somewhere nearby of the Roadhouse; did it have a run-in with the windshield of an eighteen wheeler one day and show up here, Dean wonders, or does heaven make its own birds from scratch? That’s gotta be a softball compared to whether Betelgeuse is still open for business.

Castiel waits until the bird shuts up, then says, “Of those twelve surviving angels, I personally murdered nine, in everything that followed.”

After a moment Dean says “Yeah,” with practiced neutrality. He’s got some similar tallies, written in Sharpie on the back of his eyelids.

Cas sighs and his attention comes back down to the table. “By the time I received the authority to restore your soul to your body, the infection had spread almost past the point of containment. That’s why I resisted taking a vessel at first. I worried that occupying a human form would speed up the process.”

“Hey now. I thought you showed up naked because you thought I’d be one of those special people,” Dean quips, “Who can handle angel stuff without going all kibbles ’n bits.”

“That was only a partial truth.”

Dean tips the beer bottle in salute. “You’re a real special flavor of asshole, Cas.”

“So I’ve been told. I was right, though. When I took Jimmy as a vessel, I contracted — condensed — myself very severely. The infection had a much shorter distance to travel to reach all of my extremities, and a human form was the most hospitable environment possible.”

“You got a raging case of the Deans.”

Cas’s head kicks back in a laugh that kinda surprises them both. “Yes,” he says, grinning. “I did. I was very displeased, and very concerned I’d be found out and judged unfit for duty. And I very much was. Unfit, that is. Though I was not found out.”

“C’mon, never? You went rogue on the company.”

“Uriel suspected. Naomi certainly detected it later, as did Metatron. But in the moment, no. The Host’s attention was focused on the Apocalypse ahead, not on debriefing a mission that was considered a success. After the Cage was closed, I had too much influence to come under that level of scrutiny.”

“Hmh.” Dean realizes he’s been systematically picking down the label on the beer bottle, so he sets it on the ground before he gets sticky little shreds everywhere. “So I gotta ask. My little souvenir, the handprint. That’s where you grabbed me, with your lil…Mister Potato Head human arm?”

“It is.”

“If I’m the one who infected you, how come I’m the one who got burned?”

“My hand didn’t burn you.”

“Well, it ain’t fingerpaint.”

“Your own soul burned it, as it flowed out of your flesh and into mine. It burned until the moment when I finally released you from my grip. My hand healed itself; your arm did not.” Castiel gives a thin scoff. “I hadn’t planned to leave you interred.”

“Oh, no? Well that’s nice to hear, you know, a decade after the fact. I still have nightmares about that shit.”

Castiel winces. “It’s no excuse, but I was in a great deal of…the equivalent of pain. It took an immense effort to break off the inflow of your soul, and when I did manage it, I was thrown quite a ways by the recoil. By the time I recovered enough to return, you were already looting a gas station,” He finishes, dryly.

“Yeah, well, Dad didn’t think much of leisure as a virtue. Also I was thirsty, because I’d just crawled out of my own grave.”

“And I was distracted, because I’d just fought my way out of the inferno while being digested by a demented human soul.”

“You wanna call it even?”

Cas lifts his brows. “If you don’t mind.”

 There is a long, dark breath, during which their little smiles fade. 

 “So, all that,” Dean says, because he’s a fucking coward.

“All that,” says Cas, because he isn’t.

 Dean clears his throat. “That means you can see my soul-stuff 24/7, huh?”

Castiel slides one leg up onto the bench, shifts to sit astride it, like he’s maybe about to deliver an after-school PSA on the Real Deal About Drugs. “I can always see myself, and extensions of my self. And since your soul made itself into an integral part of me…I can see you.”

“I take it that’s not exactly in the manual.”

“No. I didn’t entirely understand it at first — for a long time, I convinced myself it was because you were designed to be a celestial vessel, and that I had been destined to save you from Hell.”

That thin, acidic feelings starts to rise up in Dean’s chest again. “Do you…” A dry swallow reflex grabs his throat. “Hm. Fuck.”

“What?” Cas asks, scooting forward. An angel. Scooting. What a world. “You can ask me anything, Dean. I hope we’re both past being offended.”

“Have you ever thought that. This whole deal. Our…thing.” Dean lets out a breath. “The way you feel about me. The way I feel about you.”

“Do I worry that its only basis is our shared material?”

Dean licks his lips, works a jaw muscle, forces out a nod. 

Cas frowns, sets one elbow up against the table, then lets his head tip to the side. “Why do you love Sam?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I get it, he’s my brother. We got shared material, too. But we’re not talking genetics.”

“Genes were the initial basis of your love for Sam. But you share half as much material with Adam. Do you love him fifty percent as much as you do Sam?”

“One, love doesn’t work that way and you know it, and two, fucking of course not. I barely know the guy, and what I’ve seen didn’t exactly blow me away.” Not that the poor dumb kid ever really had a chance. “Sam’s Sam, he’s earned it a million times over just by bein’ him.”

“Then you understand.”

“But Cas, man…I…” Dean laughs, which is an abbreviated form of screaming, “I treated you like shit.”

Cas nods. “You did.”

“Okay, the rules say you’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“But the balance remains in your favor. Dean, are you genuinely afraid that you — care for me…”  and Dean can hear the FCC live-bleep in that one, like does his total cowardice have a special color Cas can see with his soul-o-vision? “Only out of some compulsion?”

“No,” Dean says, to the great surprise of his frontal cortex, which was busy kicking the shit out of itself. “No,” he says again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, that that answer actually came out of him and entered the living air between them.

Then the wave is rolling towards him and he enters that slim moment of body-physics where you either take a lungful and commit to diving under the break, or you kick out against the undertow, arch your back to meet the blow, and let yourself be flown all the way up to the waiting shore––

“No,” Dean says, “I love you.” And he chokes up a little, first at the release of saying it, then at how much of exactly jack-shit it changes anything so what was he even scared of, and then at the look on Cas’s face: how he’s frozen. Like that dog from that video, the one that loved tennis balls so goddamn much that his owner bought him a thousand fucking tennis balls and dumps them out all at once and the dog absolutely stalls the fuck out, just seconds on end of underspecced dog-brain hang time before he finally snaps back to reality and loses his absolute shit scrabbling all over the porch.

Castiel comes back online with a little choking noise of his own, and a kind of awkward scrabble for Dean’s hand.

“I have for a long time,” Dean continues, because apparently he’s continuing, “I’ve loved you for fucking ages, Cas. In people years, anyway, I’m sure that mean’s fuckall to somebody who’s a zillion––”

“I don’t,” Cas says thickly, “really give a damn about the age difference, Dean,” and cracks into a chuckle.

“So how come you never knew it?” Dean asks, feeling freedom turn into a hunger or something like vertigo. “If you can see my soul, how could you not know?”

Cas shrugs, a bit helplessly.

“Seriously,” Dean laughs, “how did I manage to hide that shit so well? Sammy found every nudie mag I ever shoplifted.”

Cas shakes his head. “You’ve never actually been able to hide anything from me.”

Dean scoffs. “C’mon, man. I snowed you plenty, or else we woulda had this conversation dirtside a long time ago.”

“Whatever I missed, Dean…it wasn’t because you succeeded at hiding it,” Castiel says, softly. He takes a slow, shaky breath, and meets Dean’s eyes with a smile. He lifts a hand to Dean’s face, bone and flesh on flesh and bone. “I just loved you enough to look away.”

 It’s a long time before they go back inside. By any measure. {AO3}

[giddyupponyboy]

Jealousy

Anonymous asked: Can I please request a imagine where the ready is Dallas total opposite best friend (she is really kind and sweet) and a soc flirts with her and Dallas gets protective and possessive and admits he is inlove with her?

Anonymous asked: hi! could you write about the reader going out with dally and getting into trouble for the first time and they end up getting jumped by socs? protective dally is so hot

Warnings: swearing, blood, really really long (4018 words to be exact)

a/n: haha guess who got carried away again!! I mean, I tried to make this one longer anyways because I combined two requests in one. They were very similar so I hope y’all are okay with that!! also, I tried to shake up the ending a bit because I feel like all my imagines end the same,, credit to @bisvtori for the photo 

protective dally is so hot i love it mm

“A board game?” Dally questioned with disgust. “You guys really thing I’m gonna sit here and play a board game?”

“C’mon, Dal.” Pony sighed. “We’ve been going out a lot lately. We should just stay inside tonight.” He said, trying to reason with the hot-headed boy.

Dally sat there and scoffed. “Not even cards?”

“What wrong with a board game, Dal?” Johnny asked, helping Pony set up the board.

“Yeah c’mon it’ll be fun.” Two-Bit said, taking a sip of his beer. Soda and Steve handed the colorful bills out to everyone sitting at the table while Dally sat there in disbelief.

“You guys are crazy if you think I’m gonna spend my Friday night playing a board game.” He stood up and pushed his chair in forcefully. “I’ll see you around.”

“Don’t let the door hit ya on the way out!” Steve called. Dally flipped him off as he walked out of the house, letting the screen door slam loudly behind him. As he walked down the steps of the porch, he saw (y/n) walking through the gate.

“Hi, Dal!” She greeted him with a warm smile. She closed the gate behind her and walked up to him

“Hey, (y/n).” He greeted back.

“Where are you headed?”

“Anywhere but here. They’re playing board games.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and dug his boot in the dirt at his feet.

“Yeah, I know.” She smiled. “Pony invited me. You’re not staying?”

“No. It’s Friday.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “It doesn’t matter what day of the week it is, Dal. It’s what you make of it that matters.”

“Okay well let’s make something of it. Can’t make much happen sitting inside and playing board games.”

“I don’t wanna ditch Pony.” She said sadly, trying to push past him.

He grasped her shoulders with her strong hands, stopping her before she could take a step further. “C’mon (y/n), it’ll be fun.” She stared up at him, unphased by his words. He sighed heavily before making a compromise. “Okay, if you ain’t having fun I’ll bring you back here.”

“Dal-“

“Just a couple’a hours, (y/n), I promise.”

She contemplated for a moment. “Okay, fine.” Dally smiled triumphantly as he grabbed her hand and led her out of the yard. “But only a couple of hours, then I’m coming back here.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He said, brushing her off. He led her to his car, unlacing his fingers from hers as he walked over to the driver’s side.

She stood at the front of the car and kept her arms crossed as he hopped in. He stuck his head out the window. “You getting in or not?”

She huffed in response, “You can at least be a gentleman if you’re gonna drag me out like this.”

He rolled his eyes and got back out of his car. He glared at her as he walked past. “Anything for you, princess.” He said in a condescending tone. He opened the door and motioned for her to get inside.

“Thank you.” She said, climbing into the passenger’s seat. Dally quickly made his way back around to the driver’s side. He climbed in, adjusting his mirrors and casually checking himself out.

“Where are we going?” She asked. Dally started turned the ignition and the engine came alive with a loud roar.

“You’ll see.” He smirked before shifting into drive and speeding off.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy her adventures with Dallas. There was nothing else like it. Open road, the music turned up, the windows down. They had done this many times before. It brought them closer each time. Dally was the one person she was able to tell almost everything to, and she was always there for him as well. Whenever he got into a bad fight, she was always there to patch him up. Not to mention, she was there the entire time he was on and off with Sylvia. He cared about her more than he’d ever be willing to admit, and what they had between each other was special.

She breathed in deeply, inhaling the fresh summer air as it flowed through her hair. She stuck her head slightly out the window, taking it all in. Dally rarely took the streets in town, instead taking the highway that surrounded the perimeter. Less traffic, less lights, and a perfect view of the scenery untouched by civilization. The sun was setting on the horizon, shades of purple and orange painting the sky. Dally looked over at her, noticing her content state. He smiled to himself, enjoying the sight of her.

She instinctively looked over to him, and he quickly looked back at the road, hoping she didn’t notice him staring.

She turned the radio down to speak to him. “Dal, can you tell me now?” She asked.

“We’ll be there soon.” He said, gripping the wheel tighter and increasing his speed slightly. They sat in silence, listening to music and enjoying the rest of the ride.

Dally eventually made his way back into town, turning down various side streets and finally stopping outside a busy looking bar. The sun had completely set by then, the streetlamps and building lights illuminating the strip. “That’s the place.” Dally said, pointing to the bar. Before she could say anything, he drove off, eventually stopping at the back of the building.

“Dal, are we even allowed to be here?” She asked cautiously, eyeing down the individuals that were loitering on the outside.

He turned the car off, the rumble of the engine halting abruptly. He stuffed his keys into his pocket before pulling out a cigarette and lifting it to his lips.

“Don’t worry, doll. We’ll be fine.” He assured her coolly, lighting the cigarette. They both climbed out of the car and she rushed to his side, wary of those that surrounded the bar.

“I think I’d rather be at Pony’s right now,” she said quietly to him.

Dally put his arm around the small of her back and slowly walked her to the door. “C’mon (y/n), I won’t let anything happen to you. Alright?” He said reassuringly, but that didn’t ease her discomfort. Still, she felt a little better with his arm around her. She moved closer to him, sticking to him like glue.

There were many people of all walks in this bar, all divided by grouping. Socs on one side, greasers on the other. It was amazing they could be in such close quarters and be so civil with one another. But she did notice the occasional piercing glare from one end of the bar to another between the groups. The rivalry was still aflame, just toned down. She didn’t want to know what would happen if a fight broke out.

Dally walked her up to the bar. “You wait here, I’m just gonna go say hi to a few people.” He put his cigarette out on the ashtray before turning back to her. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded and he turned to leave, disappearing into the crowd. She sat at the bar; her hands clammy from nervousness. She kept them clasped together as her elbows rested on the bar in front. She wasn’t used to this many people, and the environment was unfamiliar to her which added to her slight anxiety.

She gazed at the intricate bottles of alcohol that were on the various shelves behind the bartenders. Each one unique and beautiful in its own way. She had never touched the stuff too often, but she did note that the bottles made it look much more enticing than it was.

She was stuck in her thoughts when someone approached her from the side.

“Hey,” the voice was cool and calm. It cut right through the music and she turned her head to the source. A soc boy. Blonde fluffy hair, khakis and a nice shirt. He quite easy on the eyes as well. Soc boy or not, she was shy with anyone of the opposite gender. She felt her face heat up as she made eye contact with him.

She averted her gaze as she replied. “Hello.”

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this all by yourself?” He asked, leaning in. Even though it was quite dark, the light that hung above the bar was bright enough for her to see his hazel eyes.

“I’m here with my friend.” She explained, not wanting to continue the conversation.

“Some friend they must be, leaving you here alone.” He bit his lip as he looked at her up and down. “Some folks in here wouldn’t be so kind to you.”

“I think I’ll be fine.”

He leaned in again, so close she could feel his warm breath on her ear. “Let me buy you a drink, doll.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll make worth your while”

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to cause a scene, and she didn’t want to stay there any longer.

She slowly began to shift herself out of her seat when she saw the boy get thrown from his stool onto the floor. Most of the chatter came to a halt as Dally towered over the boy, a fire burning bright in his eyes.

“She ain’t interested pal, now fuck off.” Dally said.

“Why don’t you fuck off, dirty greaser.” He said, standing up and spitting in Dally’s face. Dally grabbed his shirt and knocked his head to the soc’s. The soc fell to the ground, unconscious.

The whole world seemed to come to a stop as the boy hit the ground. The two opposing sides knowing what was about to happen, but still were hesitant. It was slow motion, the many bodies standing abruptly from their stools and chairs. Poker chips and playing cards went flying, as well as cups and the liquid within them. It was quite the dramatic scene. She watched with wide eyes as the two waves of opposing gangs collided, Dally plastered right in the middle.

The bartender signaled for her to jump over the counter, and she listened without any hesitation. She didn’t want to get caught up in that mix. The sounds of shouting, yelling, grunting, glass shattering, and groaning filled the air, completely drowning out the jukebox in the background.

“Stay here,” the bartender instructed, sweat beading on his forehead. “I’m gonna call the police.” He quickly turned and escaped to the back room to make the call. He eyes widened. If the police came, Dally would for sure be arrested.

She climbed on top of the bar, trying to scope out her greaser boy in the ocean of people. She squinted her eyes to get a better view, but it was useless, it was too dark and the air was cloudy with a thin layer of smoke.

It was difficult, but she eventually picked him out from the crowd. He had a soc by the shirt and was punching him repeatedly. She was about climb down off the counter when she was stopped in her tracks by the horrific sight of four other socs jumping on him from behind. Dally disappeared under the group, their arms raising and snapping back to throw punches at the greaser boy beneath them. A few of Dally’s friends noticed and rushed to the scene, prying the soc boys off one by one and slowly finishing them off.

Dally slowly pulled himself off the floor and steadied himself on a nearby table. She quickly rushed over to him, trying to avoid getting caught in any fights.

“Dally!” She cried. He looked over to her and she saw how bad the damage really was. His eye was black and bloodshot. Blood dropped slowly from his nose, streaks of it swept across his cheek as Dally had tried to wipe it. “Are you okay?” She asked frantically.

“I’m fine, (y/n).” He said flatly, trying to brush off her concern.

She ignored his attitude. “We need to leave now; the bartender called the police.” She explained.

“Yeah, just give me a sec.” Dally said, struggling to steady himself as he stepped away from the table he was leaning on. He stumbled a bit, almost tripping when she stopped him.

“Why are you walking like that?” She asked, helping him stand straight.

“I’m kinda dizzy.” He held a hand to his forehead. She noticed his bruised and bloody knuckles. He had fought hard. She wrapped his arm around her shoulder, allowing him to rest some of his weight on her.

“You must be concussed.” She helped him to the back door, careful to avoid any more fighting. She clasped the doorknob and began to turn when the sounds of sirens filled the bar. Tires screeched outside, followed by the front door breaking open with a loud bash.

“Everybody down!” an officer shouted. She wasted no time opening the door and helping Dallas out the back.  

“Hurry, Dal, hurry!” she pleaded, helping him to the passenger side of his car.

“I can drive.” He mumbled.

“No, you can’t.” She said flatly, helping him into the car. She closed the door and he leaned his head on the window, closing his eyes. She sat in the car and reached into his jacket pocket for his keys, igniting the engine and speeding off. “We need to get you to the hospital.” She said, looking over at him.

His eyes shot open at her words. He turned to her and pointed a finger. “You ain’t taking me to a hospital.”

“Dal, your head-”

“This has happened before, I’m always fine.” He slurred, turning back to face the window.

She shook her head and decided to bring him to Bucks. Surely, he’d know what to do. At least she hoped he would.

She sped onto the lot and quickly parked the car. She turned the car off and hopped out, rushing to the passenger side to help the broken boy. Slowly opening the door, she grabbed his arm and steadied him again, slowly walking him to the entrance.

It was rather quiet for a Friday night. There were only a few people sitting and playing cards at a table when she and Dally shuffled in. Buck looked up from his hand and noticed Dally’s state.

“(y/n).” He said, standing up and walking over to them. “What the hell happened to him?”

“I’m fine!” grumbled Dally.

“There was a huge fight at some bar on the other end of town. I think he’s concussed.” She said as Buck took Dally’s weight off her shoulder.

“Let’s take him upstairs. Grab a couple of rags behind the bar and wet them to clean his face.” Buck said, carefully leading Dally towards the stairs. “And fill a bag with ice!”

She followed his instructions, finding a few cleaning rags in a drawer which she wet in the sink. She fished through the freezer and grabbed a tray of ice cubes, dumping the contents into a small plastic bag. By the time she made it upstairs, Buck already had Dally in his bed.

“I’m gonna go find some painkillers,” He said, walking past her. She walked over to Dally, taking a look at his bruised face before kneeling beside him.

His eyes were closed, but he knew she was beside him. Her presence was calming. What she didn’t know was Dally lied to her. He had been concussed before, but never this bad. His whole world was spinning, and he was worried. But god forbid he admit that. He needed to be strong.

She carefully began to wipe the dried blood from his cheek, trying not to put too much pressure as to not hurt his bruised face more. “You need to be more careful, Dal.” She said softly. “You might get yourself killed one day, and I don’t know what I’d do if that happened.” She folded the rag, exposing a clean area and began wiping gently again.

Dally grumbled. “You think I’m just gonna sit by and let that guy touch you?” He tried sitting up, but she pushed him down again.

“I don’t know what you feel you have to prove with me, but nearly dying each time is not the way to do it.” She said, handing him the bag of ice. He placed it on his forehead and closed his eyes; the cold somewhat easing the throbbing pain in his head. “You’re so stupid sometimes, honestly.” She had never spoken to him like that before, and Dally was taken aback.

He opened his mouth to speak again before Buck came back into the room with a glass of water and a couple of pills. “Here, take these.” He said. Dally slowly sat up, taking the pills from Buck’s hand and tossing them in his mouth. What was once a completely full glass of water was quickly reduced to nothing but a few small drops at the bottom, quenching Dally’s seemingly unquenchable thirst. He felt a little better, he just needed to rest now. He lied back down on the pillow and rested the ice to his forehead.

“He’s gotta rest. You should head home.” Buck said to (y/n). That was the last thing Dally heard before he fell asleep.

-

The sunlight lightly filtered in through the half-closed blinds, stirring the sleeping boy. The bag of ice had turned into water and was on the bed beside him. It must have opened, because the mattress was soaked. “Fuck.” Dally whispered to himself. He sat up, his wet shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back. He took it off and tossed it on the floor.

“Hey!” A voice said.

He jumped at the surprise and looked down. (Y/n) was curled up under a few blankets. His wet shirt landed on her head. She tossed it aside and glared at him angrily.

Dally was startled by her voice, unaware that she had been beside him all night. “What the hell are you doing down there?” he asked.

“I didn’t have a way home, so I just stayed here.” She explained, pulling the blanket up to her chest. “And I didn’t wanna wake you, so I just slept down here.”

Dally stood up and pulled his comforter over the wet mattress, hoping it would be thick enough so the water wouldn’t seep through. “Get up.” he instructed, holding a hand out to her. She reached and grabbed it, and he pulled her to her feet.  She understood and laid down on the bed. He made himself comfortable beside her.

“Is your head okay?” She asked.

Dally almost forgot the beating he took last night. He had gotten used to the dull aches scoured his body, and his head hurt significantly less that the night before. He was grateful for that. “Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better.” He said, putting his arms behind his head.

She gazed at him with worried eyes. “Do you remember what I said to you last night?”

Dally thought back, but he couldn’t remember much of the night prior. He didn’t even remember how they got to Buck’s place. “No, I don’t.” He admitted. “I don’t really remember too much after what happened in the bar.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, turning onto her back.

“What?” He questioned.

“This is exactly what I mean. You need to be more careful!” He gazed at her intently as she continued. “Look, I care about you. A lot. I want you to stop being so reckless whenever we go out.”

He rolled onto his side to face her. “That guy was coming on to you, (y/n). Was I supposed to sit by and watch?”

“You didn’t need to start a fight over it!” She snapped. “You knocked him out, Dal!”

“Whatever, (y/n).”

She ignored him. “You just get so angry all the time and you can’t control yourself. I don’t like seeing you like that. I don’t like it when you fight people.”

“Yeah? And I don’t like it when you got all these guys flirting with you all the time.” He rolled back onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “You just sit by and let it happen.”

Was he... jealous?

“It just bothers me, you know?” he said, avoiding eye contact. His head was slowly beginning to ache again from his anger.

They were both silent for a moment, his eyes locked onto the ceiling, and hers locked onto him. She understood what he was implying. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

He scoffed. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Stop beating around the bush, Dal, and tell me!”

“What? You obviously know. Do you need me to spell it out for you?” He sat up on the edge of the bed, his back turned towards her.

“If it means anything, I feel the same.” she said, staring at his back. He sat there motionless as he let the words sink into him. It felt awkward. He didn’t move or say anything. She was confused about what was going on.

She mumbled something under her breath as she shuffled to the edge of the bed, attempting to stand up. He stopped her, a firm hand gripping her wrist. “What did you say?”

“I said: you’re the worst.”

“I’m the worst?”

“Yeah, you are.” She sat beside him. “You don’t think it bothers me too? Except the difference is, you’re the one flirting with other girls. I have to sit by and watch and pretend I’m okay with it.” She fumbled with her fingers as she continued. “Then you just treat me like a friend, but then get mad when I talk to other boys. I’m so confused about what you want.” She looked up at him. “So, can you just tell me now?”

He looked away, taking his hand off her wrist. He sat silently for a moment, searching for the right words. She sat waiting patiently, looking at the bruises that covered his face; her stomach twisting with anxiety.

“I don’t deserve you, (y/n).” He avoided her, looking everywhere else in the room besides her. She’d never seen him flustered like this before. Dally was always cool and calm (when he wasn’t angry), never nervous or emotional.

“I’m trying to be better for you, but I feel like it won’t matter in the end anyways. Maybe you like the way it is right now, and maybe I don’t even have a chance.” Dally was fumbling over his words trying his hardest to remain calm.

Her anxiety quickly turned into contentment as the words fell upon her ears. Her feelings were reciprocated, and she couldn’t be happier. “Don’t change, Dal.” She said. “I like you for you. We get on real well all the time, and I always look forward to seeing you.” She inched closer to him. He looked at her, pleasantly surprised at her words. “Aside from the fighting. If there was one thing you should change, it would be that.” she smiled at him.

He laughed a bit looking down at the floor. When he turned back to her, she was inches from his face. He silently cursed at himself for not admitting this to her sooner. It seemed to be going a lot more smoothly than he had originally anticipated. He gazed at her, admiring her features, until his eyes dropped to her lips. He didn’t realize exactly how close she was until he looked at them. His instinct pulled him towards them, wanting to place his own lips on hers. He slowly began to lean in, until she began to speak again.

“But, how about you take me on a date first. We’ll see how it goes from there.” She said playfully, pulling away, much to his dismay.

She stood up from the bed and turned to walk away until he grabbed her hand. He didn’t want her to go. “Hey,” he said. But she wriggled out of his grasp and walked to the door. “Where are you going?”

She leaned against the door frame and smiled back at him. “Breakfast date?”

[joezworld]

Delta Dawn (10/10)

April, 1995

“Soooo...” Siobhan asked James teasingly over lunch. “When’re ye gonna put a ring on it?”

James, who had not been expecting such a question, spluttered and choked for a minute as Siobhan fell over laughing. 

“I’m sure that I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he said at last, his face going as red as his paintwork. 

“Sure ye don’!” She giggled. “Just like I’m sure that ye and Del’ ‘ave been shagging each other senseless for fifteen years! You’ve got ta make an honest diesel of ‘er at some point, Red!” 

“We-” James choked.

“-are no’ subtle. Everyone else is just blind.” 

“Well - I - You - we - What about you and Declan?” James eventually managed. 

Siobhan shrugged. “Deccie’s too much o’ a puss to ask me - he’s afraid ‘is parents won’t like ‘im ‘marrying down’. Which, considerin’ that his parents are like, crazy rich Indians who care only about status, I canno’ really blame ‘im”. 

“So if he’s not going to marry you, then why are you cheeking off to me?”

“Cause I’m gonna ask him to marry me.” The woman said smugly. “Deccie’s parents won’t be able to say no if I ask because it’d look bad to their friends - they just don’t think I’d do it because they think that girls are weak and subdued!”

James goggled. “They have met you, right?”

“I know, right?” She stretched out on James’ bufferbeam. “I just have to find out his ring size and I’ll do it.”

“Ring size?” 

“Oh yeah, ye lot don’ have those. It’s what you put on yer finger to say that ye tied the knot.” She pointed to the fourth finger on her left hand. “It goes ‘ere. Every girl in ma school knew what 'er size was, but blokes are hopeless.”

“Hmm...” James looked pensive. “I might be able to help with that.”

Siobhan raised a surprised eyebrow. 

--------------

Later

“Declan!” James called across the platform. He’d become friends with Siobhan’s boyfriend from the moment they’d met - the sharp-dressed Indian businessman was one of the few people who kept up with fashion at the same pace as James did, and they frequently spoke about the latest trends. 

“James! Have you seen this?” Declan smiled as he trotted over with a fresh copy of GQ.

--

Later Still

“He’s a size 11.”

“How did-”

“-And he likes coloured gemstones - apparently they’re ‘conflict-free’, whatever that means. Make sure that the stones have some meaning about you, because he thinks about you more than him. And don’t worry, he doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“How?” 

“I’m James the Splendid Engine - I can do anything.”

-----

One Week Later

Siobhan asked Declan to marry her a week later. James was away on a train when she did it, so he didn’t see it, but apparently Donald and Douglas caused quite the commotion. 

-

That Night

“-so then Donald keeps whistling even after everyone stopped applauding, and it turns out that he’d managed to jam his whistle open!” Henry had seen the whole thing, and was eagerly relaying the story to James at the coaling stage. “I know that it’s a special event, but I’m glad Gordon didn’t see it - he’d never let him hear the end of it.”

They both had a good laugh over that - much to the consternation of Gordon, who knew they were laughing at him but not why. 

-

“Have you put any thought into it?” Henry said once the laughter had died down. 

“Have you?” James asked quietly. Why was everyone asking him about this?

“Of course I have - and it’s illegal.” The green engine sighed deeply. 

“What? I thought that the Magistrate in Arlesburgh...”

“That man can do many things, but he can’t make gay marriage legal.”

“Oh.” That brought James up short. “If it were?”

“Yes.” Henry said immediately. 

No more was said. James was lost in thought, and Henry was fairly sure he knew what about. 

Gordon, who was watching them suspiciously, wondered whether the entire Island had gone crazy when he wasn’t looking, or if he had gone insane and no-one had bothered to tell him. 

-

James was somewhat more subdued than normal for the next few days. It did not go unnoticed, but he refused to say why, only insisting that he was fine, and was thinking about something. 

The Fat Controller made several attempts to discover the root of the problem, and only grew more confused as each engine claimed to have heard a different reason why. 

-

“I know that you have something to do with this.” Gordon snapped at Henry after the Fat Controller left the sheds. 

“Whatever could you mean?” Henry asked, the very picture of innocence. 

“Henry. Look at me. Look at my face.” 

“I am. Perhaps that’s why James is so upset - there’s a hair growing out of your nose at a most upsetting angle.”

“I will put you back into that tunnel.”

“No, you won’t.” Bear said, suddenly awake and interested in the conversation. Gordon had been joking, but the Hymek wasn’t, and his tone implied violence if the topic wasn’t changed. 

----------------------

A Few Weeks Later

“Psst. Psst. Miss Delta, over here!” One of the coaches whispered to Delta from the entrance of the coach shed. 

“What is it, Norma?” Delta grumbled. The coaches had been decidedly on-edge around her for the past few days, and it was starting to become wearisome.

“Can you please come into the sheds? There’s something very important that you need to see!” The second-class coach was looked like she was letting Delta in on a secret, which instantly put the diesel on the alert. 

“Why?” She said, visions of past April Fools Days fresh in her mind. 

“I can’t tell you out here!” 

“How am I supposed to get in there?” Her engine may have been running, but there was no crew in sight - and even if they were here, there was no way that her driver would run her into the carriage sheds based on some gossip. 

“You could ask Miss Siobhan!” The coach said brightly. 

Delta blinked. Donald and Douglas’ daughter/driver was not usually drawn into the coaches’ cockamamie schemes, but was clearly standing by the fuel pumps holding - but not reading - a magazine like she was waiting to be noticed. 

“Huh?” Siobhan said with faux-ignorance. “What am I doing?”

“Could you move Miss Delta into the shed dear?” The coach didn’t even bother with pleasantries, and Siobhan didn’t even bother answering, instead springing into action - throwing her magazine to the ground and clambering into Delta’s cab before the diesel had time to process what was happening. 

“Oi!” She yelped as Siobhan poked and prodded at levers until Delta started moving. “You can’t do that! You’re not qualified on diesels!” 

“I’m a smart girl, I can figure it out.” Siobhan smiled as she rolled Delta into the carriage sheds. 

“Figure it out, my buffers! If I go through the opposite wall...” Delta’s shouting faded as she entered the sheds. 

-

From across the yards, Gordon and Thomas watched as the red diesel dissapeared into the dark confines of the carriage shed, the door closing behind her. 

“Thomas, do you ever feel like there are things on this island that we are not aware of?”

“I think you must be bad at noticing things if you don’t know what’s going on right in front of you.”

“Coming from you, that’s like the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Oh really? I know everything, Gordon.”

“Tell me what the word ‘drip’ means, then.”

“It means shut up Gordon.”

“Really? I thought it meant ‘small engines who tell embarrassing stories to authors and then are surprised when those stories are published.’”

“Why don’t we speculate wildly about why Delta was just driven into the carriage shed, hmm?”

“I thought that you knew everything, Thomas. Why don’t you just tell me what she’s doing in there?”

“...”

“What’s that? Is it possible that you don’t know? How strange! I thought that you were omnipotent.”

“shut up Gordon.”

-----------

Inside the carriage shed, Delta was in the dark - literally. All the lights were off, and the roll up door had rolled down behind her. 

“What kind of Mickey-Mouse bullshit is this?” She muttered to the empty room, too caught up in the entirety of the event to realize that Siobhan had scampered back down her cab ladder and vanished into the building. 

After a moment of quiet murmuring in the dark, a small voice called out. “all right girls - on three, two, one!”

Before Delta could ask what was happening, the light over one track snapped on. A single coach - Delta thought she was Dulcie, one of Duck’s coaches - sat in the circle of illumination. She smiled at the diesel for a moment before a piano of all things, started playing over the building’s PA system. 

Delta dawn, what’s that flower you have on, could it be a faded rose from days gone by? The coach was now singing, and Delta was now thoroughly baffled. 

She's forty-one and her daddy still calls her, 'baby' All the folks around Brownsville say she's crazy 'Cause she walks down town with a suitcase in her hand Looking for a mysterious dark-haired man

It was bad form to interrupt when somecoach was singing - even if they were clearly deranged, but when this song was over there was going to be some explaining to do. 

In her younger days they called her Delta Dawn Prettiest woman you ever laid eyes on Then a man of low degree stood by her side And promised her he'd take her for his bride

For obvious reasons, Delta was familiar with this song, and was rather startled when more lights snapped on, revealing another one of Duck’s coaches - Isabel perhaps? - and Marie and Lilith, two of the first class coaches from the Express, who were all providing backing vocals. 

Delta Dawn, what's that flower you have on Could it be a faded rose from days gone by? And did I hear you say he was a-meeting you here today To take you to his mansion in the sky?

The centre of the shed was still shrouded in darkness when the lights on the edges snapped on, but Delta wasn’t really in a position to notice, as she was too busy goggling at the sudden appearance of an entire express rake’s worth of coaches on the remaining tracks, all of whom began singing the chorus of the song. 

Delta Dawn, what's that flower you have on Could it be a faded rose from days gone by? And did I hear you say he was a-meeting you here today To take you to his mansion in the sky?

A light in the back flickered to life, showing Siobhan’s fiancé Declan playing an electric keyboard. Siobhan was next to him with a tambourine. Who is doing this, and how many people are involved? Delta wondered to herself as the music built to the last verses. 

Delta Dawn, what's that flower you have on Could it be a faded rose from days gone by? And did I hear you say he was a-meeting you here today To take you to his mansion in the sky?

The lights in the centre of the sheds began to brighten, revealing a very familiar set of shapes - on the tracks to either side of hers, Bear and Henry slowly became visible, grinning like lunatics. 

Delta Dawn, what's that flower you have on Could it be a faded rose from days gone by? And did I hear you say he was a-meeting you here today To take you to his mansion in the sky?

Finally, the light in the centre of the shed turned on, revealing -

“Jamie?!”

James’ smile was threating to break his smokebox in half. “Hello gorgeous.”

“Hello yourself,” Delta said, still extremely overwhelmed. “Did you put all this on? Why?”

“Because I wanted to show you how much you mean to me.” James said sincerely, drawing an “aaaw” from the coaches. 

“That’s - Jamie - you didn’t have to...”

James smiled. “Of course I didn’t - but I wanted to. Especially because I wanted today to be special.”

“Why?”

Bear opened his mouth, seemed to realize what he was doing, and then immediately shut it again.

Delta looked at James as she began to put the pieces together. Her mouth dropped open. “Jamie. Are you...”

“Asking you to marry me? Yes I am.”

---

Across the Yard

“Are you really going to bring that up now? It’s been almost fifty years and I didn’t tell him about that!”

“Well I certainly didn’t run my mouth to every clergyman I saw running around with a notebook, so it must have been you.”

“It wasn’t! And thank goodness for that, by the way! Can you imagine the size of your smokebox if the stories were called ‘Gordon the Big Engine and His Friends?’ I can’t imagine that there’d be room on the Island for the rest of us!”

 “The only reas - what on earth?”

Thomas and Gordon were drawn out of their bickering by an explosion of cheers from within the carriage sheds. It was loud even from their side of the yard - it must have been cacophonous inside the building. 

“You know what Gordon?” Thomas said as the cheers continued with no sign of quieting down. “I take it back. There are things going on in this Island that we don’t know about.”

[ficforce]

Gokai Part 2

Konro x Reader

SFW

Winter in Asakusa was much colder than in the city, perhaps because it wasn’t as crammed with tall buildings and it didn’t benefit from every home, business and car exuding heating as they turned up the thermostats. Asakusa actively tried to use as little as they could from Haijima and the rest of the Empire, they used generators to heat their homes and a more common-sense approach - putting on more layers was one of them. Many of the energy sources for the homes were struggling with the cold weather and the higher demand so Y/N found herself going out on more calls to repair or adjust them.

It had been nearly two months since she’d last spoken to Konro, she avoided him when she saw him in the street, still feeling the sting of humiliation from his rejection… for thinking he could like her in the same way. She still practised with her wooden sword and had found a new little clearing a bit further out from her home, though it wasn’t as fun as when Konro had been with her.

She knew she would have to face him sooner or later but as she stood outside the entrance of the Guardhouse, she wished it could have been later.

“Y/N!” The woman felt herself smile brightly as one of the twins greeted her as she toed off her boots, she couldn’t tell which one was Hikage and which one was Hinata, she hadn’t gotten to know them well enough yet. Luckily she didn’t have to make a guess as Y/N was pulled in by the sleeve and she had to half jog to keep pace with the little girl, “Everyone’s saying it’s cold - you’re gonna make them shut their faces, right?”

It still surprised her when the twins spoke so roughly, she knew they were being raised in the Guardhouse and their guardians were predominately Konro and Benimaru, but she didn’t think Konro had that bad of a mouth.

Why did she have to think about his mouth?

“Hikage!” Both of them stopped when a man’s voice reached them, Y/N straightened up and turned to see that Benimaru was on the opposite side of the room they were in, “The hell are you taking her? This isn’t playtime, Y/N’s got work to do.” He then mumbled under his breath about the girls being ‘damn brats today’ and she figured that they were learning their speech patterns from Benimaru.

“But, Waka!” Hikage stomped her foot and her sleeve flapped noisily as she waved her arm, “You said Me and Hina could play!”

Y/N saw the subtle way that the Captain’s chin tilted up, blatantly ready for an argument, and she quickly crouched down to Hikage’s level, “You said everyone was cold, right? It is pretty chilly in here, to be honest.”

“Really?” Her eyes narrowed at Y/N, searching her face for any sign of a lie.

“Don’t you get cold when you have ignition abilities?” Hikage shook her head at the question and sighed as she seemed to understand that perhaps it could be an issue for other people in the Guardhouse, she let go of Y/N’s hand so that she could follow after Benimaru to the generators. As they walked in silence, she wondered if Benimaru knew about her stupid move in kissing Konro, they were very close after all, and as she followed him toward the back of the large building Y/N began to feel a little anxious.

Benimaru slid open the doors to reveal two large generators, one had stopped completely and the other was making an odd ticking sound. “Not gonna lie, it’s been a while since either was serviced. Most of us are walking heaters so we don’t notice when it’s cold,” he wanted people to stop complaining that they were cold and he was a little worried about the older folk who stayed at the Guardhouse sometimes. “No point putting people up if it’s colder inside than outside…”

“That’s true.” Y/N walked around the ticking generator and sighed, “This one needs the fuel tank emptying out and a full service, It’ll take me a few hours on my own.” Her knuckles rapped on the metal, “This one, I don’t even know, so I’ll get the first one going before I even look at it.” It could take her a few days on her own, the challenge was going to keep her going mentally but the longer she stayed - the more likely she would bump into the Lieutenant.

The young Captain crossed his arms over his chest and nodded, “I’ll send someone down to help empty the tank out, we’re down a few men and Konro’s sick so I’m dealing with everything on my own. If you need anything you’re gonna have to ask someone else.”

Konro was sick?

Y/N bit her lip at the news, she wanted to ask for more details but it really wasn’t her business anymore, “Okay, that’s not a problem.” Benimaru looked at her for a long second, he appeared to be waiting for her to say something, once he seemed to realise there was no more the Captain gave her another nod and headed out.

The first generator had been disgusting inside, the old fuel had congealed and blocked some of the pipes, the ticking had been the thermostat struggling to work through the clogged pieces. Once she turned it off the whole place got cold pretty quickly. Her breath fogged as she worked and soon she had three or four of the Hikeshi join her, they helped clean and then refill the tank - they must have been cold to come and help out so fast.

She hadn’t seen him.

As the generator burst into life a cheer could be heard from further in the building when the heat began to circulate. Y/N grinned as she was pat on the back and she found herself being pulled toward the rec area, the least they thought she deserved was a warm drink.

During her work, snow had fallen outside, a thick layer of white covered the houses and streets. Y/N couldn’t put up much of a fight when she was advised to stay the night, they had spare rooms and clothing she could use and it wasn’t a problem for anyone there - her only anxiety was Konro.

After she had bathed and changed into a thick yukata she ate dinner with everyone else. She became Hinata and Hikage’s playmate until they decided that Benimaru was a better target, they were quite boisterous for such small girls. In the morning she would get to work on the second generator, with any luck she would be finished by the evening. “Y/N.”

Being pulled out of her thoughts she smiled, “Captain Shinmon?” The man sat beside her, his fingers pulling at the sticky spot in his hair from playing with the twins, they always seemed to be eating something sickly sweet. He made her nervous by association of Konro, did he know what she’d done? Did he have an opinion on it?

“Can you set up a small heater in one of the rooms? Everyone’s staying on the warmer side of the Guardhouse til the other generator is fixed but I don’t wanna move Kon right now, I don’t know how to set up the piece of crap.” He had tried already and failed, “He’s sleeping pretty hard so I don’t think he’ll even wake up.” Konro had been out like a light all day, a few times he had woken up but he wasn’t much use to anyone, Benimaru was concerned but he tried not to worry, Konro wasn’t a little kid and he wasn’t some vulnerable old man either. “You two don’t hang out anymore, huh?”

A small sound escaped her, something between a squeak and a cough, it was pointless trying to hide it as choking on her tea and Y/N let out a large sigh, “Has… Has he said something?”

“Nope,” Benimaru leaned back on his hands and stretched his neck side to side, he hadn’t stopped all day and now he was tired, “I just noticed he doesn’t take so long to come back in the mornings. I didn’t think anything of it but your reaction just now tells me that something happened…”

To her amazement, he had seemed to have nodded off for that brief moment. “Sorry, I was just a little anxious for you to ask.”

Y/N waited for him to ask, she sat tense with her breath held. Waiting…

But he didn’t continue and the woman looked up from her cup to watch him, his eyes were closed and he didn’t seem like he would continue, “Um, Captain?” Benimaru continued to be silent and she reached out to poke his arm - red eyes popped open and he inhaled sharply.

“Ask what?” He crossed his legs and reached for a cup.

Was he messing with her? Y/N could feel her face heating up as she seemed to be digging a hole for herself, “Why we don’t talk anymore.”

“You’re not even talking? Shit, something must have happened…” It wasn’t that he didn’t care, he just wasn’t the kind of person to get involved in other people’s business. Benimaru had learned so much from Konro growing up, he didn’t feel like he had anything to teach the man in respect of life experience. “You’ll set the heater up, though?”

She nodded and breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to interrogate her further.

She really missed him.

Never had setting up a simple heater been so hard. The woman felt as if everything was working against her, the door to Konro’s room had squealed slightly on the runner, she had stepped on every creaky floorboard under the tatami in the room and had even knocked over an extinguished lantern. Each time she looked at Konro he was sound asleep, his covers were up to his chin and someone had been in to place a cool cloth on his forehead. Silently as she could, she brought the heater closer to his sleeping form and turned it on, she had planned to leave right away but found herself wanting to linger.

Y/N had always thought that Konro looked tired most days, she assumed it was because he didn’t sleep well or worked too hard. It had never detracted from his looks and it didn’t seem to stop him from doing his day to day activities, only right now… he looked sick. There was no heat radiating off of him either. It had always comforted her when he stood close, his warmth and the calm he brought her.

— -

Y/N had fixed the second generator and life continued.

That brief moment in Konro’s room had been playing on her mind all week and one morning she picked up her practice sword and instead of going to the new clearing, she walked across the street to her old clearing, the tree was bare and as she approached it she paused. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

Konro was there.

He was sat on one of the low walls, huddled in on himself and still looking a little worse for wear. After a moment of her standing there, he looked up from the snowy ground and seemed just as surprised as her. “Y/N?” Konro stood up and headed toward her - she couldn’t move, had he been coming all this time?

“Why?” Her wooden sword slipped from her fingers and landed silently in the snow, “I don’t understand why you’re still coming here, it’s been so long and… and you’re sick, you idiot! You shouldn’t be out here!” He didn’t stop in front of her as she expected, Konro reached out and rested his hands on her shoulders, his touch lacking its warmth still, Y/N went to him without any effort on his part. Konro was holding her close and she didn’t know why, didn’t care as the hands she missed rested on her and his scent reached her nose.

“You never let me explain.” He said quietly, he had been coming every morning since she had kissed him, he hadn’t wanted to embarrass her further by confronting her at her home or in the street, he had waited patiently and he felt that eventually, she would come back. “I wasn’t trying to reject you, Y/N, I was trying to give you fair warning.”

Y/N placed her hands on his chest and pushed gently away, not far enough to be out of his reach but enough to look at his face and show him just how confused his words were making her. Fair warning? What was there to warn her about, he was kind and handsome and he was obviously an idiot if he thought he had to talk her out of wanting to be with him.

All of a sudden the sound of a scream and a billow of dark smoke rose up into the air from one of the homes nearby. The man zeroed in on the exact home, the front door was open and he heard Y/N gasp as she covered her mouth, the sight of the person rolling on the ground in agony as flames erupted from their eyes and mouth, orange and red dancing on their skin and clothing, blackening them, eating them up until no one could tell they had been human.

The Lieutenant had no choice but to pull his coat hard enough forward that she lost her grip, he drew his sword and approached the poor soul that had combusted. The sound of yelling and the bell from the watchtower filled his ears, it would be best to do this quickly and kindly as possible.

Konro stood in front of her, blocking her from the sight and the danger of the new Infernal, “Get out of here, Y/N” He made to move forward but he was held back by her hands balling into his clothing and she pushed herself into his back, “…Y/N?”

A quick glance back made his heart squeeze in his chest, she was frozen to the spot, her eyes wide and frightened… She’d never seen an Infernal before, never heard it screaming and never smelt anything like it. Y/N was terrified and she couldn’t let go of him, couldn’t move her feet either.

It felt like her feet were glued to the floor, even with the danger all around her she couldn’t seem to get herself to move, Y/N tried to tell the Captain that, tried to tell him to get to Konro and that’s when she spotted another Infernal on a rooftop, it launched itself into the sky and knocked Benimaru off of his perch, sending them both crashing down. “Beni!” Konro’s call made her head whip back to the house where Konro was still fighting with the second Infernal, he was being overwhelmed and Y/N saw his sword had fallen a few feet away from him.

It was hard to tell what had happened from the time he made her let go of him to the time it took him to walk toward the Infernal. Y/N had watched it all unfold but wasn’t able to understand it, as Konro had subdued the Infernal, seconds from putting them to rest, another fiery creature had rushed out of the house and thrown itself onto the man.

The sky above her had lit up and she let out a terrified scream when a matoi embedded itself into the ground next to her, Benimaru’s voice drew her eyes upward, he was riding on another matoi and items around her began to ignite and rise, “You’re in the way, get out of here before you get burnt.”

The woman stumbled and fell into the snow on her first attempt to move, she was scared, she hadn’t been this scared ever in her life but she had to keep going. Forcing her legs under her, Y/N ran toward Konro with her eyes firmly on his sword.

Grabbing the hilt and adjusting her hold, comforted by the wear of his hands over the years and confident in all that he had taught her, Y/N took a deep breath and swung the sword toward the Infernal.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Idiot (Affectionate) ~ A Bad Samaritan Fic

CHAPTER THREE: CHANGING TUNE

Pairing: Derek Sandoval x (fem)Reader Word Count: 2646 Rating: T - angst (self esteem issues/abandonment issues) canon-typical language A/N: This here is a Cheese sandwich on Whole Angst Toast. I also feel like I should say thanks to the folks who made some suggestions for me, even though I ended up going with a different song. 

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

“Shit,” you muttered, looking up with a grimace of disgust, half-poking your head out from under the awning. You had forgotten your umbrella on your way to work earlier that afternoon, and had spent the whole shift praying that the rain would hold off long enough for you to get home. Unfortunately, it hadn’t and was coming down hard.

“Sean…” you whined, turning pleading eyes on your cousin. 

“No. Y/N, you know I love you, but I can’t. I’m supposed to meet Riley right after work,” he said. “And I’ve already been late to her place three times this month.”

“You’re just going to ‘watch a movie’ and then kick her roommate out so you can fuck. How is that something you can be late for?” you said petulantly.

Derek guffawed. “She’s got you there, man.”

“Just for that,” Sean said, waggling a finger at you mockingly. “Even if I could have given you a lift, I wouldn’t.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, making Derek laugh even more, until you turned your childish, affronted glare on him. 

“I’m glad you find it so amusing that my cousin, my own flesh and blood, would betray me like this,” you huffed dramatically.

Sean rolled his eyes.

“I could walk you home,” Derek offered with a shrug.

You eyed him suspiciously.

“I don’t have an umbrella but it wouldn’t be so bad with company right...like I dunno, solidarity?”

“You’re just hoping the rain will be enough to make my work blouse see-through, aren’t you?” you teased. 

“What, nah! I’m a gentleman, I swear,” he said, placing a hand over his heart. “I want to make sure you get home, that’s all.”

“Don’t you have your car tonight?” Sean pointed out. 

“Come on man, why you gotta blow my cover like that?” Derek hissed with a laugh. 

“What was that about being a gentleman?” you quirked an eyebrow.

“Alright, so it was a little bit about tryin to see your titties. But can you blame me, I mean come on, girl, you’re gorgeous.”

“You are such a dick,” you cried, laughing, punctuating your words by playfully batting at him with fists and the sides of your hands.

He yelped, ducking your ‘blows’, trying to hide behind Sean and the podium.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Mercy!” he gasped through his laughter. “I’ll drive you home, just stop hitting me.”

Immediately, you let up on your attack. “You don’t have to, honestly,” you said, waving aside the offer. “I’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure you can’t actually drown in the rain.”

“You were gonna let Sean drive you.”

“Yeah. But he’s family. He’s supposed to help even when it’s an inconvenience. You have no such obligation.”

“That’s what friends are for though, right?” Derek asked. 

“You’re not an inconvenience,” Sean protested at the same time. “Usually.”

“Friends don’t let friends drive the opposite direction of home just because the drivee friend forgot an umbrella in Portland. That’s like forgetting sunglasses in L.A.”

Sean sighed, rolling his eyes. “Y/N. Just take the ride. Or don’t and get totally soaked. I’m sure your uniform will dry out in the...thirteen hours before you have to be back here.” He shrugged with a pointed look at his watch.

Somehow, in the course of the conversation, the rain had picked up even further, now pounding down in sheets. Very cold sheets. You looked at the waterfalls off the awning with disdain. 

With a grumble and a reluctant protest, you agreed to let Derek drive you home. 

~

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Derek navigated the slick Portland streets. You gazed out the passenger side window, lost in random thought, listening passively to the radio, until you became aware of something beneath the sounds through the speakers, almost hidden by the thrumming bass. 

Slowly, you realized that it was Derek, singing along. 

You felt your breath catch, turning to stare at him in awe. He was really, really good. Trying not to call attention to the fact that you were listening, you shifted in your seat, tuning out the radio to focus on him. It was a crooner’s voice at heart, like smoke and honey, soft and warm with sharper hints of something more versatile and modern. You felt hypnotised as several songs went by, drawn in like a magnet to his sound. At the points it lacked technical brilliance, it was made better for its honesty, like no matter what he was singing, he meant it with heart and soul. 

Eventually, Derek seemed to notice your attention. 

“Y/N?” he asked, his normal conversational tone jolting you out of the near-trance he had lulled you into. “You alright?”

“I didn’t know you could sing,” you blurted, voice breathy and soft with awe.

A deep red color crept up his neck, splaying out over his ears and face all the way to the hairline and maybe beyond. He chuckled nervously. It was honestly kind of adorable, and you mentally kicked yourself as the thought crossed your mind. This was Derek you were talking about. The only way he should be paired with that word was if it was in the sentence ‘look at the adorable kitten/puppy Derek is holding.’ 

“It’s just along to the radio, nothing special dawg,” he rushed to claim.

“No. I heard the radio, and I heard you. That was different, you were different. And better.”

“You’re just sayin that.”

“Have I ever said something nice to you just to say something nice?” you asked, your face skeptical. 

He laughed, unable to stop himself. “I don’t think you’ve ever complimented me at all before.”

“Kind of proving my point for me, aren’t you?” 

He snorted.

“I’m serious. Definitely the kind of voice that teenage girls would pay too much money for tickets just to scream over it in a concert.”

“Ya think?” there was a note of hopeful excitement in his question, and he seemed to turn even redder at your words.

“I mean, I’m no expert,” you shrugged. “But I did used to be one. A teenage girl that is.”

“Huh.” 

Silence, save for the upbeat pop song now playing in the background, settled back over the car as he continued to drive, pondering what you said, and you let your thoughts drift aimlessly.

“So what about you?” Derek suddenly asked, making you jump again.

“What about me?” you asked. 

He paused, a spark of tension crackling between you. He reached a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. 

“I mean, were you...did you used to scream over boybands and shit?” he finally managed to say.

“Nah. I never had the money for concerts. Besides,” you flashed him a sheepish half-smile. “I liked some of it, but my taste was mostly more along the lines of Bowie, Broadway, and Cash than it was Fall Out Boy or whoever.”

He seemed to consider this. “Maybe I’ll have to learn some of that for you then.”

“I bet you could do a good Life on Mars,” you suggested genuinely. “Still won’t get you in my pants though.” You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips.

“Ouch!” he laughed with mock-hurt. “You still think I’m just playin you?”

“Obviously,” you shrugged. “I’m too smart to think otherwise.” 

‘No matter how much I wish you weren’t,’ you thought fleetingly. 

Derek frowned, catching something in your tone, below your usual teasing. Something...sad? No, defeated?

“You don’t think I could be serious? Or...actually into you?”

“Please,” you scoffed.

His frown deepened, hurt that no matter how close you’d gotten of late or how you acted, you still thought that low of him.

“I know I’m not really someone worth sticking around for,” you said softly. “And you’re sweet sometimes, but...that doesn’t change facts.”

He opened his mouth to protest but you kept talking.

“My own parents figured that out, I’m sure you will too. Everyone does. I don’t even mind anymore,” you chuckled bitterly. “It’s just the trying to pretend otherwise that hurts.”

He was silent, unsure where to even start. He wanted to tell you that you were wrong, he wanted to prove it. He wanted to keep the tears he could see building up from ever falling.

 The car slowly rolled to a stop outside your apartment. He realized that somewhen the rain had let up to a fine drizzle, but the gloom had moved inside the car instead. You flashed him a smile that didn’t meet your eyes. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, leaning slightly on the doorframe as you got out, and wringing your hands. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And...uh...try not to worry about what I said. It’s...no big deal.”

The car door sounded heavier than ever as it closed and you headed up the walk, turning briefly as you put your key in the lock to wave. 

He continued to sit there, well after you had disappeared inside, trying to wrap his head around what had passed between you. Eventually, he had an idea.

“Sean!” he said into his phone when the Irishman in question finally answered. “Yo, I know you’re wit’ your girl, but this is important.”

~

A week or so later, Derek offered you a ride home again, even though this time it was a perfectly clear night, if a little chilly. There was no need for it, and equally no need to agree.

“Sure,” you said, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket and leaning against the building. “If you really want.”

“Great,” he smiled and there was no guile or joke or performance in it, just him, happy that you’d agreed. “We just gotta cash out with Nino and then we’ll go?”

You nodded. Sean lingered at the door, a smug, knowing look on his face.

“What?” you asked, defensive.

“Nothing, nothing. Just quite the shift from ‘oh no I don’t want to be a bother,’” he said in a tone that you thought was meant to be an impression of you, but a very bad one. “To ‘sure, Derek, I’d love a ride home.’” He batted his eyelids for added effect.

“Oh shut up,” you grumbled, feeling your face heat. 

“Admit it. You’re into him.”

“You’re impossible.”

“That’s not a no.”

“You’re right...it’s not.” You looked down, fiddling with a pen you had found still stashed in your pocket.

Sean’s eyes widened. “Really?” He couldn’t contain the excitement in his voice.

You countered it with a glare. “Keep your mouth shut. And go cash out, before you get ripped off by your alleged best friend.”

~

You settled easily into the pleather passenger seat; Derek started the engine and the radio crackled on. You closed your eyes, letting the music wash over your exhausted mind, secretly hoping that he’d sing again. It only took a moment to register this was very different music than what he’d been playing the other night, but before you could ask about it, he started in, humming the opening, gradually gaining energy until he was belting out the lyrics.

“Thanks to you, Bonnie babe, I can make plans again. I've got lots o' reasons to keep livin' Its true that love can set you free, And this world will remember me.”

Swept up in the moment, you answered with the next verse in equal passion and drama.

“You said you'd go straight. Clyde, I wanna be in movies. I can't name one movie star who's doin' robberies on the side. I know in my heart, babe, that Hollywood is callin', How can I be in the spotlight if we always have to hide?”

The pair of you grinned at each other as you continued the back and forth, voices syncing surprisingly well for having never sung together before. You couldn’t help the sort of giddy rush you felt, losing yourself in the music and the character.

As the last note chopped off, you reached over, turning the radio down enough to have a conversation over it.

“You’re pretty good at that, Bonnie,” he joked.

 “It helps to have a good partner, Clyde.” You winked dramatically.

“I try, I try.” You weren’t sure, but you thought you might see a hint of color on his cheeks. 

“You know,” you mused, with a quirk of an eyebrow, “I didn't take you for a Bonnie and Clyde fan, so I’m guessing it didn’t just happen that you were listening to one of my favorite musicals.”

“It kinda did,” his mouth twisted ruefully. “I know you said to forget it, but I couldn’t stop thinkin about the other night and I,” he glanced over at you, checking to see if you were angry before continuing, “wanted to show you that you’re important to people, that we...I...care about you. So I asked Sean what some of your favorite songs and stuff were.”

You swallowed, fighting back a wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm you. Still, when you spoke, your voice came out soft and breaking. “Oh.”

“I was gonna surprise you by learning some and then find an excuse to sing 'em for you or with you or something, but this is the only one I got so far, and it was by accident.”

“What do you mean?” Curiosity overrode everything else for the moment.

“It just gets stuck in your head man. I’ve been listening to it for days.”

You joined in his laughter. “It does doesn’t it?”

“I can’t figure it out.”

“Probably because it’s so relatable. The dressing’s complicated, but in the end it’s just about people in love, people with dreams.”

He fell quiet, considering. 

Something hung over the pair of you that you couldn’t quite find a name for, or didn’t want to maybe. It felt safe though, whatever it was, and you wanted to cling to it.

Not sure what else to say or do, you nudged the volume up and threw yourself back into the musical, hiding yourself in Bonnie Parker for a time.

~

That girl's got somethin' Nothing scares her Only piece of luck that's ever come my way

Derek was singing softly, and his hand reached out, fingers tentatively brushing against yours. It was on instinct that you turned your hand and slipped your fingers through his, lacing them together for a moment, the action just feeling right. Seconds later, your mind caught up to what your body had done and you recoiled, jerking away as if his touch had burned you. 

“I don’t know why I...I mean I wasn’t...I...sorry,” you stammered.

“Don’t be,” he replied with a half-hearted shrug. “You uh, you have soft hands.” 

Almost in a whisper, he added, “I liked it. I wanna keep holding your hand, if you want me to.”

You glanced down at his still outstretched hand, and then back up at his face. He stared resolutely ahead, eyes fixed on the road, as if that could hide the waiting tension that he practically hummed with. He’d told you, in a way, how he felt and now he was leaving it up to you. 

Hesitantly, you reached back, sliding your fingers back to where they’d been. You chewed on your lip, staring nervously at the juncture where your skin touched, mind racing. You weren’t sure what it meant, or how it would change things, and you were afraid. Derek was already important to you (you took a moment to marvel at that change, wondering when exactly it had happened). If you let the connection grow…You debated retracting your hand. At least if you pulled back, it would be your choice, for once, to lose. 

You felt a slight pressure as he squeezed your hand comfortingly and flashed you a grin. You smiled back. 

Maybe this — maybe Derek — was worth the risk.

[neon-junkie]

how would micah ask his s/o to start dating? how would the gang react? thank you for providing micah content x

I was gonna put a short paragraph to this but as always, I got carried away. This is gender-neutral btw!

Micah won't ask you to be his sweetheart, he'll never ever say the words. He often beats himself up for allowing himself to get soft on another person; it goes against his father's teachings and Micah's whole persona. We all know that opposites attract, but you have to have a little bit of a chaotic side to be with Micah. You could have a heart of gold, be sweet and gentle, super pure, etc, but deep down you'll have a wild side to you. Maybe you love to rob folk by flirting with them all night, having them drag you up to a hotel room for some fun, for you to then pull your gun out, hogtie them, rob em blind, then leave them tied up for some poor sod to find. You've gotta be chaotic good. Micah will pick up on your little chaotic glint from a mile off, and that's why he's so drawn to you. You're such a kind soul but there's unhinged chaos in you, and he likes it!! He'll deny his feeling for you for aaaages, maybe even try and bully you to try and push you away. He'll feel bad, especially if you get really upset at him. Eventually, he'll make it up to you, like buying/stealing you something nice or just generally trying to be kinder towards you. 

We already know that Micah struggles to talk to women. If he's trying to flirt, it'll be cheesy and creepy, so when he approaches you he wants to try something new. He'll sit for hours at the campfire trying to think of every possible way to approach you. He'll really beat himself up over this - he doesn't wanna mess up. Eventually, he decides to just be kind and gentle, take things slow, build your trust up over time. He'll start off with little things here and there, saying you're looking nice today, asking if you slept alright, small comments like that. He'll call you pet names like darling and sweetheart from the beginning, so you'll already be used to those. Eventually, he'll ask if you wanna go on a walk with him, or maybe go sit by the lake. Micah will be SO awkward the whole time. He doesn't even know how to walk properly, he's so paranoid about coming across as weird. You've probably picked up on his advances by now, so just do something to reassure him, like maybe link your arm in his. Over time, he'll calm down. Micah will eventually be straight up and honest with you, admitting that he's 'real soft on ya.' He'll 100% have his head dipped so the brim of his hat covered his flustered face. Pull him out from his shell and give that man a damn kiss!! As soon as you do that, most of his nerves will go. He KNOWS now that you're into him so he won't have to hold back as much. Micah will only start showing PDA around the camp if you initiate it. He doesn't want anybody thinking he's forcing himself on to you, but once you show you're ready then he'll eventually start initiating back. It'll start off when few people are around, like having a cuddle by the campfire at night, or bringing you a coffee in the morning when everybody's still half-asleep. You'll have to be the one to change the pace; do something bold like kiss him in full view of everyone. He'll love that, he loves his s/o to be bold and confident. You're going to have SO many camp members approach you and ask 'wtf is going on?' Most will just tell you to be careful, especially the women, and a few will tell you you're a fool for mingling with that man. If Micah overhears any ruder comments towards him then he'll jump in, telling them to mind their own business and dragging you away with his arm around your waist. Uncle, Karen, and Arthur will call out Micah to his face, threatening to kill him if he dares hurt you. Bill will also call him out if you're close with him, he gets protective around those he loves. Some of the other members may make smaller threats through passing conversation. Micah will eventually snap, arguing overly-loud so the whole camp hears. "I get it! I get it already! I ain't here to hurt (Y/N). Y'all ain't got nothin' to worry about. Now leave me... us be, would ya?" After that, Micah will insist you wear his green neckerchief around your neck or wrist. He's never going to say the words 'will you be mine?' but this is the same thing for him. Once you two are 'official' then he's all hands on. You'll have people begging the two of you to 'please stop making out, it's not even midday. I just wanna have a cup of coffee and not throw up in it.' Micah isn't holding back anymore. You'll get to see his full personality. Oh, and he'll start using cheesy pick-up lines on you, but only because they make you laugh. He'll take you into town often, spoiling you as much as he can. He's happy to do whatever you want, even if it is something mushy like cuddling by the lake as you watch the sunset. His eyes are never on the view, always on you. If your relationship works out then he'll be eager to propose to you, probably within 1.5-3 years. If you're a gunslinger then he'll 100% propose mid-fight, just like that Pirates of the Caribbean scene. It'll be a bit of a shotgun wedding, Micah rushing it because he just can't wait to see his ring on your finger. You'll get married in private and definitely not in the eyes of god/by law. Micah is the kinda guy to sneak the two of you into a church and say all the lines/vows himself, acting as the priest and the groom. "Do you ___, take me, Micah Bell the 3rd to be your husband? Or something like that? Yadda yadda... c'mon darlin', just say yes. I can't wait to put this ring on you any longer!" Your honeymoon will be whatever you wanna do. Want to go away somewhere nice for the weekend? Sure. Want to dress up fancy and pretend to be posh whilst secretly robbing folks? Sure! Want to pull off a big bank heist whilst still dressed in your wedding attire? SURE!!! Micah will never be able to 'settle.' He can't live with four walls and a roof around him. He needs that freedom and the open road, so hopefully, you enjoy that too. You'll eventually break off from the gang, either spending your time alone together, or starting up your own gang. If you're high honour then you may be able to pull Micah towards the light. If you're low honour then he'll encourage you to unleash that chaotic side. You'll have a 'Bonnie and Clyde' style relationship, but of course, you'll do it 10x better.

[zirkkun]

The Butterfly Effect (Part 1)

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The Butterfly Effect (Undertale Fanfic - overall given a AO3 M rating) Prologue

+ sans x gender neutral reader (first person POV from reader)

+ 2701 words, english

+ fluff, explaining past experience; conflict with adapting to a new environment

+ takes place in the Underground; barrier is not broken

+ part of a series I’ve been passively writing, no idea when I’ll update. only have written the first two parts but have a vagueness of the whole story outlined

+ AO3 link

It wasn't a reality I ever expected for myself, but it was happening nonetheless. The very tip of a temperate finger, silky smooth without even the texture of a fingerprint to taint it, brushed against my cheek. A smile couldn't help but curl at the corner of my lips, mirroring the permanent, toothy smile plastered on the face across from me. A chuckle surfaced from the both of us the second I reacted to his motion; I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against his. The hand against my cheek slid to the back of my neck, the thin fingers fitting perfectly between the bumps of my spine, and pulled me just that little bit more forward to where the space between us was sealed, my lips pressed against his toothy grin. There were no opposing lips to lock mine to, but I no longer minded. That wasn't what mattered. Staying at his side, feeling the tender touch of his otherwise boney and rough fingers against my skin, and cuddling with his head cozily tucked under my chin as he held me close... Intimacy didn't have to be defined by following social norms.

But of course, leave it to me for being the one strange enough to date a skeleton monster before figuring this out. I guess some people just need to find out through extreme examples, myself apparently included.

Nevertheless, I didn't worry too much about it anymore. I used to be more self conscious about it, more hatefully self aware. But between him and his brother, not to mention their friends, I grew more accustomed to the idea of living with monsters no differently than I would any of my fellow human beings. Sure, it was a bit hard to stumble through this at first, but it's not like I was alone in adjusting to this new realization or lifestyle. I was alongside the monster friends I had made, who were adjusting to me living with them in this underground kingdom they called home.

I don't remember how I fell down here. It's been far too long by now. Maybe it was an attempted suicide? I'm not sure. My life outside of this place as a whole is just a blur, but I do remember I wasn't in a place of happiness. Angry about broken societal systems, feeling unable to adjust to the way the world was built just after I finally figured out how to work with my own self, and losing hope for the bright future I was once promised as a child. It would be no surprise if that's why I wanted to leave, why I came to the place where humans were rumored to never return from. And, frankly, I can see why. I don't want to leave this place. Here, I'm free of so many of my fears and worries. I'm free of hatred, debt, betrayal, and confinement. I could do and be how I wanted. The friends and family I've gained while living here are far closer to me than any of the humans I can even vaguely remember from on the Surface. But I didn't always feel this way; it took a certain skeleton to truly convince me to stay.

Until then, I'd been desperate to leave. Afraid of where I'd ended up. There was no one of familiarity around me -- not a single human being in sight for as far as I could see. Monsters of great variety were the only living creatures down here, ones that I couldn't have thought of even for the most obscure of fantasy novels. I was scared, despite the kindness I had received. My fear peaked when I met a murderous buttercup, but slowly began to dip when my life had been saved by a kindly woman with thick fur and the complexion of an anthropomorphic goat. But it never really went away until much farther down the line. Not even through many puzzles, dates, and playful japes did I even really teeter off the edge into security.

It had been blisteringly hot; used to the moderate temperatures from above, the volcanic heat of the lava pool city was not something I could handle well. With the lights of the bright resort coming into view is when I saw him waiting, his stained and tattered old jacket truly obvious amongst the glam and glitz of the Hollywood-like building behind him. His smile was the same as it always was -- while at that time, I hadn't known, but it was false, hiding a pain only he carried then. And yet, even then, when I saw it, the stress hanging in my heart was lifted for just a brief moment. He'd asked me back then if I wanted to get lunch with him, since he was on break. Having yet to develop any feelings, I agreed without much thought whatsoever. "Great, thanks for treating me," he had joked, earning a laugh from me.

We hadn't actually ordered anything. Rather, we just stood across from each other on opposite ends of one of the decorated tables, talking for quite a long time. He told me of the time where he started making jokes to a woman through the door to the Ruins, who I could only assume was none other than the woman who had helped me when I fell down here. But his tone had drifted off when he told this story; his eye contact was lost, that false smile ever so faltering to his thoughts. I hadn't even gotten the chance to ask what was wrong before he answered that question for himself. "Y'know, kid, what drives you to leave this place? You've already got so much down here... What else do'ya need other than some good friends, good food, and some bad laughs?"

I thought about it for a moment. I think he was going to brush aside the topic after my initial response of silence, but I had stopped him, interjecting with my own thoughts. "I don't know," I had answered truthfully. "I don't know what's driving me. I don't remember anything good from where I came from... All I know is that I'm scared, and I want to go back to where things are familiar."

He didn't know how to respond when I said that. That moment is probably the most shocked and unprepared for something I have ever seen him in my entire life. His smile's falseness revealed its truth, slipping away as he stared at me completely dumbfounded of the words that had fallen from my mouth. It was as if he had been hoping to hear someone say that for years. As if he had been begging for someone to answer his question. That broken false smile slowly turned itself into something more genuine as he continued our conversation. "C'mon, now. There's no reason to be scared. Sure, there's a lotta folks who keep ravin' about how your SOUL will free us, but at the same time, you don't have to step forward and tempt the king if you don't wanna." He had shrugged, hands still buried deep into his jacket pockets. "But, I'm not the one livin' your life. You do you. I ain't gonna tell you what you should or shouldn't do, not now."

I had let his words soak into my mind, deeply considering the suggestion he was ensuing. I couldn't help but wonder: what was normal life down here? I'd somehow managed, with my frail self-worth and lack of bravery, to befriend many of those who lived here. There was next to no one alive in the Underground who still wanted to hand my extracted SOUL to the king. With that knowledge, it clicked: it was safer for me here than it was anywhere else in this world. The moment this thought grazed my mind, I was already saying, "Do you know anywhere I could stay?"

I'd thought he was going to cry when I said that. I still don't know why it struck him the way it did, just my asking if he knew someone I could stay with. But regardless, he let me stay with him and his brother.

For a while, I lived on their couch. It wasn't particularly the most comfortable of living conditions -- the old, raggy, stained, and ripping couch was awful compared to my previous, yet very-below-average mattress -- but even so, the skeletons' cozy house eventually became my home. I even began calling it that only a few weeks into living here. Something about living here just clicked. Even when I woke up to aggravated yelling, one brother telling the other to get up and go to work, I couldn't help but just giggle and relax in the environment. They were a chaotic pair, those two, but they were inexplicably generous and beyond kind. I couldn't help but consider them as family in such short time. And, well, in the case of one... I couldn't help but fall in love.

I hadn't meant to. But that's always how it goes, isn't it? No one ever means to fall in love. At first, actually, I hated it. I hated myself for it. The mere sight of him made me paranoid. He became confused as to why I would suddenly reject every moment he was so much as in the same room as me, but I couldn't answer. How could I? I was still adapting to the life of merely living without the presence of humans -- my internal morals screamed at every turn that this was nothing but wrong and disgusting. No one wants to hear that about themselves. Not to mention, these monsters were still getting used to me, as well. To me, they were the weird ones, but to the greater society, I was the odd one out. The anomaly. Why should, by any means, should this guy accept my feelings, when there's thousands of people of his own kind surrounding him?

I hadn't meant to confess to him ever, truly. Had it not been for that one night where a dark dream swallowed my sanity whole, I don't think I would have ever said a word to him. But, as it is, no one ever chooses to have the dreams they do, either.

I had woken with a yelp and a jolt. The vague snowy light from the window above me still shimmered, despite the hour; adjusting to the time within an underground cave had been a bit of an interesting challenge. But I digress: at this point, such things no longer bothered me. Now, the only thing on my mind was a horrifying nightmare, one terrible fear looping its imagery before my internal eyes over and over again without fail. I hadn't wanted to go to him about this, but I was nearly weeping with fear. Had I been able to, I may have gone to his brother instead to talk to, but unfortunately, this was one of the many nights he opted against sleeping and instead decided to work overtime. I had no other choice, if I wanted to get this horror off my chest, than to speak to him directly.

I had taken a deep breath once I reached his door, my hand shakily gripping the handle. At this point, even though we had been living in the same house for over a month or so, I hadn't even been inside his room. I didn't know if I was welcome. That stress, on top of the fear cycling through my eyes, caused more and more tears to form. I refused to let them fall, wiping them against my shirt as I pushed through and opened the door, allowing myself in.

"Sans?"

The soft whisper of his name had left my lips, each sound struggling to hold together in a cohesive word. I had taken another step in, repeating his name, more softly the second time. The room had been pitch black, and there was barely even any sound to indicate someone might be living in there. Just when I had thought he was maybe too deep into his sleep to hear me, I had begun to turn around, only to register the sound of my name being sleepily strung together in a deep reply. Within that second alone, the dam holding back my tears broke loose; I hadn't wanted it to, but somehow, I had lost all control. I ran to the source of his voice, and without even so much as a thought or hesitation, threw my arms around his figure sitting at the edge of his mattress. He had laughed at first, until I let slip why I came to him in the first place.

"I'm so glad you're alive... I'm so glad I can hear your voice. I don't know what I would have done if that dream was real..."

His laughter fell silent. His body felt stiff in my grip, refusing to move or react for a very long time. Then, as if some instinct washed over him, his whole demeanor changed to hold me at his side and hush away my tears, assuring me he was alive and well with what seemed akin to the sound of desperation lacing his voice. His hands, however small and thin, were careful to caress me gently, reassuringly rubbing my back and softly stroking my hair. Such tender intimacy I had never felt before, and I wasn't so sure as to why I was feeling it now. The guilt of my feelings subsided for just a brief moment as I had nudged my nose into his collarbone.

"I love you, Sans. If you died... I don't know what I would do."

His actions didn't stop. Rather, the soft huff of a cheery chuckle was released as he pulled me closer, leaning in just next to my ear. "I love you, too," he whispered back to me. "Don't worry 'bout me dying on you. It won't happen. And I won't let you do go dyin' on me either, 'kay?"

I had laughed softly, joyfully accepting this response. After my tears began to cease, he still kept me close, and instead I fell asleep in his bed for the first time. In fact, from then onward, I never fell asleep on the couch again. Well, almost never.

His brother, while readily supporting us with open arms, couldn't bring himself to accept the idea of the two of us sharing a room for a fair amount of time. And just when he had started to grow accustomed to it, the two of us had to go and spoil it by... well, let's just say by being a bit too loud. His brother made me sleep on the couch that night. Needless to say, after that, anytime the two of us wanted to be a bit more intimate than usual, we didn't do it at home. Thankfully, his brother somehow wasn't concerned by us disappearing from the house every other night.

It took me, even still, quite a long time to adjust to the whole situation. It wasn't rainbows and sunshine after that. I still kept fighting myself against these feelings, despite being accepted and supported for the relationship I had involved myself in. That human societal morality still dug in my chest -- the society that I was no longer a part of. It was hard to convince myself that this was okay here. It was hard to convince myself that my actions were justified. It was hard to convince myself that everything was okay. It took a lot of bright smiles, soft cuddles, and genuine conversations to really allow myself to break through the old morals I no longer needed. It took me nearly six months to accept the fact that humans and monsters can live alongside each other without having to worry about their differences.

And now, I still remain here, right at his side. I could still feel the gentle touch of his fingertips against my skin as I drifted off to sleep by him for the thousandth time.

So I think you can imagine my fear when I woke up alone in a completely different house.

[skullrock]

the partners, chapter four - Steve x Reader

chapter four: heaven knows I'm miserable now

series summary: you and Steve are police apprentices at Hawkins Police Station in the fall of 1986. you get along famously, but there’s something Steve is hiding, and there is an unknown evil lurking in Hawkins. [friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff]

chapter summary: You and Steve tip toe around your feelings; You find evidence that might link Chief to the death.

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, pining

word count: 4k (oof!)

a/n: here’s the Spotify playlist that goes with the series, and you can catch up here. would love to give the biggest possible shout out to @comedy-witch who helped me go through this entire plot line and find the essence of the story!!! em is the best and im love her. I hope you folks enjoy this chapter!

------

“And so Tommy was like –“ You make a stupid face. “’Oh, look who it is!’ And Steve was like –“ You make an exaggerated frown. “’Oh, hello!’”

“That’s not what I said,” Steve laughs.

“Um, I think I’d know, I was there,” you respond, then continue. “And so Tommy was like, calling me a slut, and – oh, and Carol touched Steve’s hair – and then Tommy got really close to Steve—”

“And Y/N shoved him away, and I tried to stop her, I did –”

“Yeah, but I was really mad, and then Tommy called Steve a fuck up, and that really made me mad, and so I took the lid off my slushie and I went –“ You mimic pouring the slushie over Steve’s head, and he makes a shocked face. “And then I was like –“ You grab Steve’s arm and twist it behind him, gently enough so it doesn’t hurt him.

“Holy shit,” Mike says, leaning forward.

“You did that to Tommy?!” Lucas says in disbelief.

“Oh, that’s not even the craziest part,” Steve says. “Then she was like, ‘Tommy, if I hear you say Steve’s name one more time, I’ll kill you,’ and then, she was like - “ he turns to you, intending on reenacting when you kissed Tommy’s nose, but decides against it. “And then she kissed his nose!”

“No way!” a few of the kids gasp in unison.

“It’s true, I was there,” you repeat.

“It was so badass,” Steve says. “I thought she was just gonna tell him to tuck his shirt in or something –”

“Steve, when have I ever –”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he says, and you slap his shoulder.

“And you didn’t get in trouble?” Will asks nervously.

“Not yet, hopefully never,” you respond.

“Tommy’s got a thing against girls standing up to him, he won’t say shit.” Steve assures.

Your watch starts beeping – it’s 10 pm. You have a shift in the morning, while Steve gets the day off.

“I’ve gotta run, guys,” you say, grabbing your jacket.

“Don’t beat someone up while you’re at it,” Max jokes, and you roll your eyes.

While talking to everyone, you didn’t notice Robin standing in the corner, arms crossed, and eyes narrowed. Her eyes narrow even more as Steve grabs your arm when you try to go, telling you to be careful. She watches as your face flushes and your hand tucks a stand of hair behind your ear.

You walk out to your car, and Robin bounds up behind you. “Y/N!”

“Oh, hey,” you say, as if it’s the first time you saw her all night. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” she asks, scoffing. “What the hell was that?”

“What was what?” you ask, laughing nervously.

“Are you kidding? Y/N, when have you ever been physical with someone for someone else?”

You shrug. “I’m emotional.”

Robin laughs. “Well, sure, but you’ve never been outright violent.” She narrows her eyes again. “Spill it.”

“Spill what?”

She laughs in disbelief. “You’ve got it bad for Harrington!”

“No, I don’t!” you defend, but your face turns red and your eyes shift over to the right. “We’re just friends.”

Robin sighs. She reaches out for you and pulls you into an embrace, which you return happily. She pulls back, placing her hands firmly on your shoulders. “You need to be careful with him.”

You furrow your brows and open your mouth to question it, but she cuts you off.

“Steve has completely shut down after last year,” she explains. “And I’m very happy he’s letting you in, he must think you’re really special to have done that…. But he’s definitely not ready for any type of relationship. I’m worried you’re going to fall for him, and not be able to have him. You both deserve to be happy – I don’t want this to end badly for you guys.”

“Robin,” you say, irritated. “I’m not catching feelings.”

She rolls her eyes at first, but her expression softens. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not going to,” you say, rolling your shoulders. “Robin, I promise.”

She bites her lip and starts to smile. “You would be cute together, though.”

You blush, smiling, but quickly shake your head. “I’m not into him, Robin. I promise.”

Robin clicks her tongue. “If you do get into him, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

=====

The next time you patrol with Steve, you are acutely aware of just how much Robin was right.

Every time Steve would smile, you’d notice how cutely his nose would crinkle. You got goosebumps when he would laugh, and you found yourself laughing at almost everything he said. One time, his forehead creased, and you reached out to smooth it, stopping yourself just in time.

Keep it together, idiot, you tell yourself, diverting your hand to act like you’re rubbing a crumb off of Steve’s shirt.

“What do you think about the Chief?” Steve asks suddenly, making your brows furrow.

“I mean, we’ve agreed he’s pretty odd,” you say. “I don’t have much of an opinion beyond that. Like, he taught me everything I know – how to shoot, how to detain… how to bully guys from high school.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, and you laugh. “What’s your latest problem with him?”

He continues to bite his cheek, and you wait for an answer. Finally, he talks. “Before you got to the scene last week, it was just me and Chief…. Well, those weird government guys were there, too. And… I don’t know. Chief was being really condescending, and he kept deflecting me when I said I thought it was something worse than a suicide. He seems pretty hell-bent on not letting either of us around this investigation, too. I don’t think that’s what we signed up for, do you?”

You shake your head. “I think it’s weird, too. They won’t even let us look at the photographs.”

“Right,” Steve says. “Right. Something really doesn’t seem right with this. And don’t you think it’s weird that he was first on the scene? It’s usually the lower level people who respond first.”

“Damn,” you say, leaning back. “You’re right.”

“I know,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Something’s up.”

At that moment, a car goes down the road. It wouldn’t be odd, except it was irrefutably Chief’s yellow ’67 Corvette. Your brows furrow and you lean forward. Chief never comes to this side of town – he lives on the outskirts on the very opposite side. You don’t even have to tell Steve your thoughts; he’s right there with you. He quickly puts the car in drive and begins to follow him from a distance.

“We really keep having these coincidences, huh?” you ask. “First Tommy, now Chief.”

“I think he’s heading towards the Source,” Steve breathes.

“The source?” you ask.

“I mean – the crime scene,” he corrects quickly, licking his lips. “You know – the source of the crime.”

That statement doesn’t sit right with you, but you don’t question it.

You follow Chief all the way to the west side of town, on the very outskirts. You watch as he pulls down a side road, and Steve takes another one, so it doesn’t look too suspicious. Your anxiety continues to grow, as does Steve’s, and you notice his jaw clenched tightly.

“Steve, you’re going to hurt yourself,” you say.

“Sorry,” he says, absentmindedly, and unclenches his jaw only slightly.

Steve’s confused. He thought Chief was going to Rimborn, but now they’re on the other side of town. Nothing makes sense, but he thinks something is about to happen. He’s not going to give up now.

A bright building illuminates the end of the road, surrounded by thick woods. A neon sign reading Bartini hangs off of it. Chief’s car pulls up to the front, and Steve continues down the road a ways before pulling over. You both whip around, Steve grabbing a pair of binoculars off the floor.

“Bartini?” you ask. “That’s lame.”

Steve shushes you, and you scoff. “Do you think you can hear them from he—”

“Shh!”

You both watch as Chief gets out of his car. He goes into the bar through a side entrance instead of the front. The side door is guarded by two tall people – Steve thinks they look an awful lot like the government men from the other night. He watches as Chief flashes something – it’s too dark to tell what – and Chief enters the building.

“What’s happening?” you whisper.

“He went inside,” Steve whispers back.

“Riveting,” you reply.

Steve turns back around in his seating, letting out a sigh. He brings the binoculars to his lap. You see that same thoughtfulness from earlier. You again wait for him to speak.

“I know it sounds weird. I know it does. But something bad is happening. I want to get to the bottom of this. I wish I could explain this to you, but I can’t. And I really need you to believe me on this.” There’s a desperation in his voice that you haven’t yet heard. It makes your heart hurt.

“I trust you,” you say, despite being confused as all hell internally.

And you mean it. You would trust him with your life. Even though his vagueness and attitude are a bit annoying and frustrating, you believe his judgement. You can see in his eyes that he’s not messing around.

“You’re my partner, remember?” you add. “I’m in this with you. I believe you.”

Steve sighs, looking at you gratefully. “We’ve got some sleuthing to do.”

=====

The next few days at the station are spent sneaking around. You both would wait until Chief went to lunch or to a meeting before raiding the office, trying to find anything to work with. You both knew most of the evidence for the case was in the evidence room – ironically, made from Hop’s old office, despite your protests – and that room was under strict lock and key.

While you tried to find things from the investigation, Steve researched building permits for the town at Town Hall. He finds the one for Starcourt Mall and sets it aside. He feels disgust churn in his stomach as he reads Mayor Kline’s signature, signing off on making a capitalist nightmare that nearly killed him and his friends a year ago. A pang of guilt runs through him. He shouldn’t have added you to this mess. If his hunch is right, you could be in serious danger. But he swallows the feeling, knowing he needs your support and help more than anything right now.

Not long after finding the records for Starcourt, he finds the records for Bartini. Steve’s heart races as he reads – Bartini was proposed the same day as Starcourt, built by the same company, and also signed off by Mayor Kline. Steve shakes his head, mumbling a “you son of a bitch,” and jumps up from his seat with the records in hand. He wants to believe that the government wasn’t that stupid, that they had realized this coincidence and checked it out. But the other part of him remembers the atrocities of the lab and thinks maybe it wasn’t a mistake at all.

At the same time, you find scans of the photographs from the crime scene. They’re shoved haphazardly into an empty drawer in the main office, and you truly can’t believe your luck. You scan through them carefully for any clues, and you strike gold. In a photograph of the back of the body, you notice a napkin sticking out from the man’s pocket. You grab a magnifying glass and look further – an illustration of a martini glass with an olive inside is printed on it in red ink. The emblem looks familiar, and you think for a moment before realizing it’s the same emblem that was on the Bartini sign.

You jump up and at the same moment, Steve walks in. He looks equally ecstatic and like he’s seen a ghost. He holds up the files with a small smile and settles at his desk. You run over and stand beside his chair as he pulls them out.

“This one is for Starcourt,” he says, placing it down. You scan it over and nod at him.

“And this one is for Bartini.” He places them side by side, and while you notice the similarities, you’re still confused.

“If Starcourt just caught on fire, then why does it matter if they are related?” you ask. “I mean, I know Kline was a crook, but what’s the connection?”

Steve curses under his breath. He forgot you didn’t know the whole story. He briefly considers telling you at least some parts but decides against it. You’d already agreed that you would take the information you were given, and you can’t break that agreement now.

“Just trust me on this,” he says slowly. “I think there’s a connection here.”

“I mean, alright,” you say, also slow. “I do have something that may reinforce your theory.”

You show him the photograph and explain the emblem on the napkin. Steve’s eyes widen and he grabs you, spinning you around. Your heart leaps and races as you laugh. He puts you down, beaming. He still holds on to your arms though, and his warm palms are all you can think about at the current moment.

For a fleeting moment, Steve’s stomach flips, thinking of how beautiful you look when you’re happy. But he pushes those thoughts to the side with an anxious pang in his gut.

“This is it!” he cheers. “This proves it. The bar is involved.”

“Bet you’re happy you let me help, huh?” you ask.

“You’re wonderful,” he says. “I knew I could count on you.”

You feel yourself blush, so you quickly pull away, walking towards your desk. “Do you think the napkin would be in the evidence room?” you ask, looking anywhere but at him.

“Most likely,” he says. “And I know just the way to get in.”

=====

Steve’s idea was admittedly pretty stupid, and a little rude, too.

His plan was simple – flirt with Veronica, who has the key, get her to go in to find the napkin, and bring it to him.

“Veronica’s not an idiot,” you say. Something about the plan makes you feel sick, but you push it down - again. “She’s not going to just waltz in and steal evidence for you.”

“You underestimate my charm,” he says. He’s looking into a mirror in the annex and fixing his hair.

“We don’t need the napkin,” you say.

“Oh, but we do,” he replies. “Chief went to that bar last night, remember?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t have a memory problem like you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Chief. The bar. Starcourt. Body. Chief goes into a private entrance at the bar – that implies that he is some sort of VIP, right? The bar’s emblem is on the dead person’s body. The bar was made at the same time as Starcourt. Chief probably has something to do with the bar, Starcourt, and the body. He doesn’t want to be caught, so he takes evidence and destroys it. We need to get that napkin before he does.”

The feeling of dread and uncertainty permanently attaches itself to your stomach, and you feel nauseous. “What if you’re wrong? What if Chief isn’t involved?”

He turns around from the mirror to look at you. He did fix his hair up pretty nicely – the handsomeness he exudes sidetracks you for a brief moment.

“Don’t you think he is involved?” he asks.

“I mean, I guess, but Steve, you’re not giving me a lot to work with here,” you say, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “And if we get caught, we’re done for.”

“We’ve been living on the edge for a while now, Y/N.”

“Patrolling on our own is completely different from breaking into the evidence room and stealing evidence.”

Steve sighs. He walks over to you, taking you in his arms again. “Don’t you trust me?”

You roll your eyes, fighting a smile. It feels good to be in his arms. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Steve.”

“Do you think so?” he says cheekily, flashing a smile. It’s enough to make your knees weak.

Still, you force yourself out of his grip. “I’m sure Veronica will think so.”

You both go out to the reception desk, meeting with Veronica. Veronica was usually a pretty quiet gal, but when she saw Steve, she could not stop talking. He flashes her the same smile he just flashed you, and your heart equally leaps and sinks.

“Veronica,” he purrs. “What’s been up, doll?” Steve admittedly does not really remember how to flirt with women, but is trying to channel his high school self as best as he can right now.

You scrunch your nose in disgust – doll? – but quickly go back to being pokerfaced.

“Ugh, it’s been so busy today, oh my god. First Chief has a ton of meetings, then Callahan isn’t here, so I have no one to talk to, and did you see what happened on 8th and Oak this morning? What a wreck, probably going to take a while to –”

“Veronica,” Steve interrupts sweetly. “Can I ask you a favor?”

She smiles brightly. “What can I do for you?”

Steve pauses – he didn’t think this far ahead. He looks back at you with his mouth slightly open, then back at Veronica, smiling cockily again. “Any chance you could grab something from the evidence room for me?”

Now you know why this display is sickening to you. Steve’s treating her like a pawn to help him excel in his mission, and it kind of feels like he’s doing the same to you. You remember what Robin said – how he isn’t going to catch feelings – and the impact of those words settle in your stomach like a rock. You are no different from Veronica; just a girl helplessly infatuated with a boy who will never reciprocate, wanting to help him as much as you could in the hopes that maybe he would like you back. These thoughts pull you from the situation unraveling, and you don’t even notice Veronica skipping off.

“Hey,” Steve says quietly, bumping into you. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah!” you say after a pause.

“I got her to go in,” he says.

You force a tight-lipped smile, and his falters. “What’s wrong?”

You bite your tongue, afraid to speak. Is it even worth it to bring it up? Would it give your feelings away? But you decide to do it anyway, because ragging on each other is kind of your brand.

“Just seems kind of mean,” you say slowly.

“What does?”

“Using Veronica to get shit done for you.”

His brows furrow and he shakes his head slightly. ��What are you talking about?”

“Steve, she’s like, in love with you,” you say nervously, “and you’re using her to break into the evidence room. She could get fired for that, man.”

Realization dawns on Steve’s face, and he looks disappointed with himself. His epiphany calms you, because at least he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

Either that, or he’s just a really good actor.

“I didn’t think of it like that,” he whispers, eyes downcast.

“Yeah,” you say. “Maybe you should reexamine your relationships with wo—”

“Stevie,” Vanessa calls as she walks out of the evidence room.

Steve spins around on his heals, dashing smile plastered on his face again. “Yes, sweetheart?”

It infuriates you that he goes back into this bullshit façade, but you decide to question him on it when you aren’t in front of Veronica.

“No napkins are in there,” she says.

Steve furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“No napkins,” she repeats. “Nothing that even looks like a napkin, actually.”

Steve stills and your mouth falls open. Someone did tamper with the evidence.

“Oh, well, thanks, Roni!” he says quickly, and pulls you back to the annex, leaving a confused but happy Veronica in your wake.

He shuts and locks the door and starts to pace.

“Holy shit,” you say, stunned.

“We’ve got to go in there,” he says, voice wavering.

“Into the evidence room?”

“No, no, the bar,” he says. He runs his hand through his hair – a nervous tick you’d picked up on – and he taps his fingers against his crossed arms. “Chief took the napkin, I know it. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

You swallow, hard. “And what are we supposed to do there?”

“Get to the bottom of this,” he says. “Find out what Chief goes for, see if there is anything up with it. Try to find out what the connection is, who owns it, who runs it.”

“We’re underage,” you point out, and he deflates. You sigh and add, “But I know a guy.”

Steve spins around. “A guy?”

You sigh again and pull out your wallet. You hand an ID over to him – it’s a fake. Steve looks between it, back at you, then back down at it, mouth open. “You have a fake ID?”

“How else was I supposed to drink when I was at school?”

“You just don’t seem like the type.”

“Does it matter?” you snap, snatching it back. “Look, if we are going in, we have to be disguised to the max. I’m talking wigs and an entire wardrobe change. We cannot be found out, because if Chief finds us, underaged in this bar, we are getting kicked into the sun.”

“Or he could get his Russian cronies to kill us,” he mumbles. His eyes widen and he looks like he regrets it immediately.

You know it’s against the rules to push, but you do it anyway, because how the fuck can you be quiet after that? “Russians?”

“I said – I said he would be rushing – rushing to get cronies to kill us.” He laughs sharply. “Uh, damn Y/N, get your hearing checked.”

You narrow your eyes. “If you don’t explain this shit and stop gaslighting me in five seconds, I’m out.”

Steve grabs your hands and pulls you towards him. This is getting ridiculous, you think, as your heart yet again goes crazy over his touch. You look away from him, but he softly says your name, so you look back. You see sincerity in his eyes, and he looks solemn.

“I promise when this is over, I’ll explain everything,” he says. “But I can’t tell you until I know you’re safe.”

“Oh, like you care about me,” you say. You try to smile through it – like it’s a joke - but it’s still a bit painful.

Steve’s brows furrow and his face goes soft. “I’m not trying to use you or Veronica. What I did with Veronica – that was stupid, and you’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. But I really do need your help. I’m not telling you things because they can really hurt you. I should never have let you in on this anyway, but I need you. You keep me going, Y/N. You’re….”

He trails off as he takes your face in. The innocence in your eyes, the rosiness in your cheeks, your widened pupils. How beautiful you are throws him off guard again, and he swallows hard, recovering and pushing past his anxiety and attraction. Being with you is simply not an option, and he feels foolish for even having the fleeting thought.

“You’re my best friend,” he finishes. “I couldn’t do this without you. Honest.”

You stare at his chest for a moment before smiling. “I thought Dustin was your best friend?”

“Oh, I forgot about Dustin. You’re right, he’s my best friend.”

You both laugh and the tension dissipates. You sigh and look back up at him. “Saturday night, we go in.”

Steve steps back and offers you his hand, and you shake on it, but you can’t help to notice how nervous his eyes look.

=====

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An Examination of Political Cartoons in the Time of Covid

This is a cartoon by artist Clay Jones, who runs a blog for showcasing his cartoons called Tales from the Trumpster Fire. This piece specifically looks to target the racial targeting involved in the collection of censuses and Jared Kushner’s overseeing of the secret coronavirus task force. There aren’t a ton of symbols in here, but we can point both to the Nazi armband on the census taker and the SS insignia on his hat as a representation for the artist’s belief that these practices are racist and totalitarian and comparable to certain nazi practices. We also have the dress shirt and tie on the father, which is meant to symbolize that he is a hard working man. This is meant to emphasize the injustice of the family being ignored and looked over by the man looking to take census information from only white people. Things are labeled for clarity, such as the word Jared on Jared Kushner’s body. His head is already exaggeratedly long with the long outward ears and big lips for which he famously has. I believe the labeling of Kushner is to let people know who it is despite the fact they’ve already done a caricature of him, only because he isn’t yet a household name, so some folks might not recognize him on appearance alone. Here, there isn’t so much an analogy, as much as there is a heavy exaggeration of what is actually happening. Jared Kushner isn’t involved in actually going door to door and ignoring the censuses of black citizens, but that is what him and his organization are doing in a metaphorical sense. They’re not literally hollering out for only white voters to complete the census, it’s just that they’re ignoring and not putting the same sort of emphasis on collecting black votes. The cartoonist is saying that this is obviously a bad thing and thinks it resembles nazi-like fascist. Even though I agree, I don’t really find this piece that persuasive, as it is both very basic, and the view it argues against isn’t one I can see many people agreeing with in the first place. There aren’t a ton of people who believe censuses of white people are more important, because most average people would see that as a cartoonishly evil view to hold. However, I can imagine that some diehard Trump supporters who view immigrants as evil outsiders, and think white is the national race of America, would take issue with the comic. I definitely don’t think those people would be persuaded, though. 

by artist Tornoe for The Inquirer

Symbols: Face mask, Phillies Jersey, Foam Finger. The face mask represents coronavirus prevention measures, the Phillies jersey and foam finger represent sports fandom.

Exaggeration: No noticeable exaggeration, other than there only being one fan in the empty stadium. Either the event wouldn’t allow an audience, or there would be more people at this event. Also it is exaggerated here that the man would have no problem going out in public to watch the sport, but he’s not willing to accept a hot dog from a worker who potentially has the virus. 

Labeling: Very limited use of labeling here, besides the Hot Dog vessel, which would be labeled in real life, as well as the jersey. 

Analogy: Not really any analogy here, it is more poking fun of the current situation by presenting us an absurd hypothetical scenario. 

Irony: I think the irony here is that the fan is so devoted that he made his way out to the sporting event during quarantine and he’s so loyal to his team, but he’s still cautious about the guy serving hot dogs. I think it could also be joking about how unsanitary the hot dogs are known for being. 

This cartoon is about the closing off of sporting events to audiences and the fans who are heartbroken by it. I don’t think the cartoonist feels any particular way about it, except for that it’s ridiculous how devoted sports fans are for their teams. I see this as a cartoon that’s more trying to find humor in a political situation than try to take down a specific figure or issue. 

by artist Loujie for Cagle Cartoons

Symbols: Steak, Statue of Liberty, Coronavirus Cells, Fat guy, Torch, Tablet from the Statue. 

The steak is a symbol of wealth, as well as the “fat cat” representing greed and wealth. The coronavirus cells represent the pandemic, and calamity affecting the people outside the window. The statue of liberty in this case representing America, as well as her torch representing freedom and democracy, and the tablet representing the Fourth of July and the declaration of independence, which the fat cat is eating his steak on. Red wine on the table also represents luxury.

Exaggerations: The fat guy is exaggerated in his rotundity and the poor people outside are exaggerated in their panic pounding at the window. The statue of liberty is also scaled down to be able to fit into the room, which is the opposite of exaggeration. 

Labeling: The Rich, The Poor.

Analogy: America bailing out the rich and doing little for the poor is like our values bending over to serve the rich. They’re luxuriating while the average person is suffering. 

Irony: The rich are comfortable and profiting more than others, while the poor are left to get sick and suffer below. It’s ironic because America wasn’t founded on those values, but Lady Liberty is bowing to the whims of the elite. 

The artist is clearly saying it’s wrong that this is happening as the average Americans build the backbone of the country. He thinks income inequality is out of control and the wealthy are controlling America to benefit them. People who disagree with them would be rich people or the poor people who worship the rich and want to become part of that class. Not a very convincing piece, more just solidifies what people already know about the upper class. 

by artist Steve Benson for Creator’s Syndicate

Symbols: Death, Grave Stone, Covid Face Masks

Exaggerations: Not everyone is going to die so the right side is a bit of an exaggeration, but the death representing America reopening represents the massive casualties that can occur from reopening early amidst the second wave of covid-19. 

Labeling: “First wave: America Shuts Down” “Second Wave: America Re-Opens 

Analogy: Opening up businesses early is like inviting death into the country.

Irony: By trying to save our economy, we’d be killing our people, and thus doing devastating irreversible damage to the economy. 

The artist is concerned about America Reopening early and believes we will suffer many casualties because of this. Opponents of this message would be conspiracy theorists, conservatives, and business owners afraid of losing profits or going out of business. I find it fairly convincing as political cartoons go, but I don’t think it’s really gonna sway anyone.

by artist Tom Stiglich for MediaNews Group

Symbols: Foxes, Feathers, Joe Biden Campaign Pin, Chickens, Chicken Coop.

Exaggerations: The New York Times, DMC, and Joe Biden have been anthropomorphized into foxes. Joe Biden is shown to be murdering chickens, which is not what he actually has done. 

Labeling: New York Times, Democratic National Committee, Biden. 

Analogy: The New York Times and DMC are in cahoots with Joe Biden aka fellow foxes, so them saying they’ll investigate him fairly, is like foxes saying they’ll investigate a chicken murder perpetrated by a fellow fox fairly. 

Irony: They all committed the crime and are covering it up together.

This cartoonist is untrustworthy of Joe Biden and the people who claim to be investigating his claims of wrongdoing. People who disagree with this would be staunch liberals, or people who like Joe Biden. For me it is fairly persuasive, because even though I am a liberal, I am wary of trusting Joe Biden, or the New York Times, or the Democratic National Committee. I think it’s a cartoon that reaches both sides of the aisle because Joe Biden is a terrible candidate, and even us liberals who are voting for him are really not happy with him as an option. I do appreciate that during a time of corona-virus, this is one of the few up to date cartoons that chooses to tackle another topic, and I applaud it’s originality while still being timely.