#I hadn’t drawn these two before digitally so this was really nice to do

[betterthanbatman1]

Can you draw Duke and Cass?? The yellow team

Yellow team yellow team yellow team!!

Reference sketch I did is under cut

[heliads]

Being Miss Misery

Based on this request: “a fic with newt based off mr perfectly fine by taylor swift”

masterlist

If you were going to describe the one thing you looked forward to each morning, the one person who made you want to fight your whole life to escape the Maze, you would say it was Newt. How could you not? You love him, after all. Or, you loved him. There are days when you wish you could go back in time and tell yourself that you had gotten it all wrong, that some dreams were just meant to stay dreams and never become real. Then again, if you had never let yourself jump this time you’d spend the rest of your life thinking about the fall you could have had.

In the end, you suppose there was no way you could have ever chosen differently. No matter what happened, no matter what words were said, you could never quite forget how happy you were before, even when you were stuck in the Maze. That was the best thing about Newt, after all- he made you smile like no one else ever could. There’s always a second side to every coin, though, and that means that he has hurt you in a way so unique to him that no one else could ever hope to mimic it. No matter how many times Janson or WICKED tried to hurt you, nothing would ever cut quite as deep as this.

With every story, there’s a start. A reason why things ended up the way they did. Yours begins with the Box, the same way every other Glader remembers their first day. There is no before, not in the Maze. Just the Box, and what comes after. Everything else has been wiped from your mind, cleared away like fog from a glass. Gone, never to be found again.

You had been pulled from the metal box and stood, squinting, letting your eyes adjust to the sudden bright sunlight. You had looked around, taking in the sight of the massive stone walls surrounding you and felt your pulse start to skyrocket. Before you could really start to panic, though, a voice sounded out from behind you. It was quiet, peaceful, and you knew from that second that you would be alright.

“That’s the Maze.” You had turned to face a blond boy, one with a limp and a slight accent that tinged his words the same stilted gold as a piece of bronze. “The Maze?” The boy had nodded sagely. “You’re in the Glade now, greenie. The Maze keeps us stuck in here.” You had nodded again, and the boy apparently took pity on you, softening his tone even more, folding it up into a more peaceable sound. “I’m Newt, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

You had started for the usual greeting, the fine, thank you, and I’m- but the problem was that you couldn’t remember your own name. No place, no history, no name. It’s like you were a blank canvas, but one that had once held the most brilliant of landscapes if you could only remember it. Newt had clicked his tongue softly. “You won’t remember it, love. It’ll take a while before your name comes back to you. Don’t worry, everyone forgets.” You had stared at him. “Where are we? I know it’s the Glade, but where is it?”

Newt had shrugged. “Nobody knows. We all just showed up here, one at a time, with no memory or anything except the shirt on our backs. You can ask all the questions you want, but we won’t have any answers.” He had looked at you sideways then. “Actually, don’t ask all the questions. We told that to Chuck-” he points to a young boy with a mop of curly brown hair, “-and he took us too literally. Don’t think we slept for a week. All we heard was questions.”

You bite back a laugh. “Sounds good, Newt. I’ll keep my questions in the single digits.” Newt flashes you a smile that seems as bright as the sun. “I like you already. I think we’re going to get along very well.” If only he had known how true that would be. If only you had known, so that you could stay away.

You’re not sure you can remember quite when you realized you loved him. In the end, the exact date doesn’t really matter. It happened, you couldn’t shake it, and it felt like the most beautiful mistake you might ever make. In the Glade, you couldn’t count on anything- not the weather, not the people, not even the Maze, which changed each night. When Newt had told you how he felt one night by the campfire, you were sure that it would haunt you for the rest of your life, that it was too good to be true or too good to last.

You had started to stand up, ready to hurry away and pretend like you hadn’t heard a word. Newt had stood up too, taking your hand and keeping you by his side. “I’m not going to break your heart, Y/N. I promise. I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’ve been waiting for you all my life, and I want to be here with you. Right by your side, until the end.” You had smiled at him then, finally letting the last of your walls down. When he kissed you, even the whoops of the other Gladers weren’t enough to dissuade you.

There was nobody like him, that much was true. He made the Glade better, made even the stormiest days feel like a cloudless blue. You came to trust him, to depend on him. You believed that he wouldn’t leave. It was like he said, right? He looked you in the eye and told you he would never go away. You two were practically inseparable, and it was the best feeling on the entire planet.

When Thomas arrived, bringing with him the destruction of the Glade and promises that he could get everyone out, you thought it was the best thing you’d heard in a while. You had held Newt’s hand while you ran through the Maze, dodging Grievers and doing everything in your power to keep the other alive. That was what you did best, after all- loving each other, staying together. You can still remember that one night before you left, when fires had been burning the homesteads down and the shrieks of dying Gladers echoed through the night. It drives you to run faster, to move farther away from everything that had happened and all the horrors you had seen.

Newt had taken your hand in his, pulling you close in the dark of the night. “We’re getting out of here, alright? Promise. I love you, Y/N, and we can finally have a life outside of all this.” You had smiled at him, letting him press a kiss to your cheek. It sounded perfect, that was the problem. Perfectly fine, and none of it was true, although you’d have no way of knowing it then.

That day seemed to pass in a blur, and the next day, and the next. You made it out of the Maze, out of the nest of Grievers, and into a pressed-clean WICKED facility. They promised you safety, shepherding you into groups of other boys and girls who’d managed to make it out of their respective Mazes. When Newt gestured for you to talk to him separately, away from the other boys from your Maze, you had assumed nothing of it. How wrong you had been.

His voice was quiet, eyes darting over to the other boys as if wanting to make sure that they didn’t hear. “I want to break up with you, Y/N.” You had stared at him, not able to understand. “What?” He swallowed, then repeated himself. “I want to break up with you. I’m really sorry, Y/N, but I don’t think this is going to work out. I just- I stayed with you for longer than I should have in the Maze, because I thought we were going to die, but-”

You cut him off, feeling your tone turn icy. “You’re done now because our lives aren’t at risk anymore? You don’t have to feel guilty about it?” Newt winces. “It’s not like that, Y/N. Honest. You’re a great girl and all that, I just don’t think it’s working out anymore. Sorry.” With one last insincere apology, he turns and walks towards the rest of the boys, his step considerably lighter as if a sudden burden has been relieved from his shoulders. You’re left to stand there, alone and mute and utterly heartbroken.

There’s nothing left to do except pick up your broken pieces and go back to the table with the others. Even this brief moment of weakness, this one last hesitation by the door, has drawn looks of confusion from the Gladers. You force a smile, a spring in your step, and sit down next to them. If you make sure not to sit next to the backstabbing blond boy, well, that’s nobody’s business but your own.

The days blend together, one into the next. You didn’t realize how much you depended on seeing Newt, talking to him, saying something clever and warranting a smile, until it was all gone. You were still a Glader, and that meant that when everyone escaped the WICKED compound he made sure you stayed alive like the others, but for once, there are no more strings attached. No promises to make it out, no lies told to make it through the night. This is what it was like in the beginning, you remind yourself, and you have to learn to deal with it once more. If only it was as easy to do it as it is to say it.

Now you sit alone at a campfire in the Scorch, watching white-hot sparks cascade into the open air. Your friends from the Glade have met up with the girls from Group B and some members of the Right Arm, meaning that you’re in a crowd for the first time in a while ever since entering the Scorch. All around you, people are taking advantage of the sudden numbers to mingle and chatter with the din of a flock of birds, but not you. No, you use the overwhelming mass of people to hide away, blending into another silhouette in the desert.

It appears you’re not to be alone forever, though. Someone slumps down into the seat next to you. You smile ruefully at the expression on her face- the same heartsick, stupidly trusting look that you have no doubt has been on your own. Brenda, it appears, is not doing well with the sight of Thomas parading back and forth with Teresa. 

“Having a good night, Brenda?” She gives you a look. “About as well as you, I think. How are you, by the way? I heard you were dating Newt in the Maze but if looks could kill I think he’d be worse off than the Cranks.” You sigh. “We were dating, that much is true. He broke up with me out of the blue, broke my heart for no reason other than the fact that he didn’t feel like he had to protect me anymore as we were out of the Maze.”

Brenda stares at you, all thoughts of Thomas banished. “He didn’t say that. Tell me he didn’t say that.” You nod, smiling bittersweetly. “He did indeed. Mr. Casually Cruel, that’s his new name from now on.” Brenda looks over at you. “If he’s Mr. Casually Cruel, what does that make you?” You prop your chin up on your hands, staring with unseeing eyes at the throngs of people around you. “Miss Misery, I guess. He’s perfectly fine, I’m falling apart.”

Your eyes find a familiar figure in the crowd, one you’ve been doing your best to avoid but always seeming to return to. “The worst part is that he moved on so quickly. You’d think he’d forgotten he’d ever heard my name. I mean, look at him.” You jerk your chin towards a pair of figures on the opposite side of the roaring campfire: a blond boy, arms wrapped around Harriet. He smiles at her, lingering traces of his face disappearing into a haze of heat from the flames in between you. 

“I’ve been picking up the pieces of my heart, he’s been picking up her. I’m starting to think that I never meant anything to him at all.” Brenda clicks her tongue indignantly. “That jerk. Hey, if you ever need someone to accidentally push him off a cliff-” You cut her off, laughing. “I’ll look to you first. Don’t think we’ll need that quite yet, though.” Brenda folds her arms across her chest. “You don’t need him, though. Honestly. He wants to promenade around here like he’s Mr. Always Wins, fine. He just walked out on the best thing in his life and he doesn’t even realize it.”

You smile at your friend, a true smile this time. “Thanks, Brenda. Now, if you could keep your same advice around Thomas-” Brenda holds up her hands, starting to laugh. “We’re not talking about that! I changed my mind, let’s go back to Newt.” If you’re so distracted by the conversation and laughter with your friend that you don’t notice a certain blond boy looking your way, eyes drawn to you again and again even if he does his best to pretend otherwise, maybe it’s for the best.

The night is late, stars hung in the sky as if by some absentminded hand. The fire has died away to ash and coals, tendrils of smoke starting to creep up to the horizon. The din of the gathering has proved a little too much for you, and you’ve chosen to fade away into the night, your feet carrying you further and further from the center of the group. You lean against a rough rock face, letting your eyes trace the curves and stars of the night sky. You’re distracted enough by the sights that you don’t hear the uneven footsteps coming up behind you, the telltale lurch of a boy with a limp.

“You always liked looking at the stars, didn’t you?” You startle at Newt’s voice, appearing out of nowhere. You shake yourself, forcing your shoulders to sink and relax once more. “They’re beautiful. Always have been.” Newt’s smile is as sure as a running river, always strategized, always well-placed. There’s a confidence there, too, an edge. Proof that he’s so far above you in every sense, above feeling anything at all. “Just like you.”

You raise an eyebrow. After everything he’s put you through, after everything that destroyed you but never fazed him, you’ve learned to doubt a careless compliment like this. That may be all you’ve learned, but it is enough. Newt takes your silence as an invitation to keep speaking. “I think I’ve made a mistake, Y/N. You’ve always been so good to me, you know? Always here to stay, always at the right place at the right time. I hate to speak too quickly, but would you consider giving me another chance?”

You’ve thought about this moment for a long time. Mr. Perfectly Fine, Mr. Casually Cruel, finally seeing you in new eyes and realizing that by leaving you he was giving up everything you might have had together. But you’ve seen this moment through a hundred times in your head, and for once your head is clear, eyes bright and looking forward instead of on what might have happened. You know your answer, once and for all.

[argylemnwrites]

Sliding In

Pairing: Logan x MC (Ellie Whitnall) - referenced

Book: Ride or Die (~27 years later)

Word Count: ~1200

Rating: PG

Summary: An innocent question prompts some reflection

Author’s Note: Written for @rodappreciationweek Day 1 - Logan. It’s kind of more of a teaser for my upcoming MC piece than anything, but I figured it might be a fun contribution to the Time Capsule Challenge! And yes, this is my same MC from my RODAW Colt x MC pieces from last year. My ROD MC was with Logan until the “it was all planned” reveal, which pushed her to fully embrace her connection/attraction to Colt. This is set about 14 years after the end of those stories as a point of reference.

“Dad, when was the last time you went on a date?”

Logan glanced up from the email he was reading, caught off guard by his daughter’s question. “What?”

“When did you last go on a date?” Lily persisted from across the table, her algebra homework scattered in front of her.

“Why are you asking, Ladybug?”

Lily rolled her eyes at the nickname, one she used to smile widely at when she was little, clinging to Logan’s arm. But now that she was officially a teenager, she was way too mature for it, or so she said. “Just curious. Like, when we’re at Mom and Amy’s, do you go out?”

“Sometimes. Last weekend I went to a Rangers game with some guys from work.”

“That’s not what I meant. Do you go out go out?”

“Don’t you have homework that needs your attention?”

Lily shook her head, adjusting her glasses just slightly. “It’s not due until Thursday. Why won’t you answer my question?”

“Because I’m the dad, and it’s none of your business.”

“Uhh, I’m not little like Landon! It’s not fair for you to blow me off like that!”

“Lily, come on. There is no way you care that much about my social life. So what actually brought on this line of questioning?”

Lily bit her lip and twisted her pencil through her fingers before she asked, “Did you hear that Dani’s parents are getting a divorce?”

Logan resisted the urge to laugh. His daughter was about to try to set him up with her best friend’s mother. This was going to be interesting.

“Yes, your mother told me.”

“Right… well, Dani’s mom is nice, isn’t she?”

“Uh huh,” Logan glanced back at his laptop, pretending to read over the agenda for the meeting tomorrow he had open.

“Dad, stop it! You know what I mean!”

“I do, Lily. But sorry, I don’t do set ups.”

“Ugggh,” she groaned out with a sigh as rolled her shoulders. “Why not?”

“Let’s just say the last time I was set up with someone, it ended pretty badly.”

Lily seemed to accept his answer, though not without a massive sigh and another eye roll, but her topic of conversation stuck with him all night long. Past tucking in Landon and calling out for Lily to get off her phone and go to sleep.

Sitting in bed, he pulled out his own phone. He hadn’t really thought about her in years. And while every so often she would drift across his mind, it had been almost two decades since he last saw her. But even though Kaneko’s instructions to pursue Ellie Whitnall hadn’t exactly been a traditional set up, it was close enough that he was thinking about her now.

He hadn’t kept track of her after they all split up. Not that he hadn’t wanted to. But she needed space, from the whole Mercy Park Crew really, but from him in particular. He’d hurt her, violated her trust, broken what they had. She deserved a wonderful life where she could succeed and thrive without a bunch of wanted criminals holding her back. He’d known if he knew where she was and what she was up to, it would have been too hard to stay away. He would have been behind the wheel in an instant, drawn back to her side.

So back when they’d all gone their separate ways, he’d made the choice to let her be. He resisted the urge to check in, to see where she was, how she was doing. At first, it felt nearly impossible. But as time marched on, the desire to search for her, either digitally or in person, faded into something more manageable. Cold, lonely nights eventually shifted into a new life and existence as he moved from Detroit down to Dallas. He got his GED and got hired on the design team at Toyota. He met Lucy, got married, had two children. His life filled with new joys, ones he never could have dared to dream of. Thoughts of Ellie shifted from a deep pang to a fleeting nostalgic glow. Not for the life he lived back when he knew her, and certainly not for the role he played in the destruction of their relationship, but for the way his first love shaped him. For the hope and compassion she’d introduced to his life, without which, there was no way he would be where he was today.

He wondered, for the first time in quite some time, what she was up to. How she was doing. He hoped she was at least as happy as he was. She deserved that much. Hell, she deserved much more than that. He was divorced, trying to figure out the coparenting thing with his ex and her girlfriend. It had taken him a long time to find steady work. While all of those struggles were manageable, particularly compared to his teenage years, they still weren’t ideal. And if anyone should have an ideal life, it was her.

He wasn’t sure why he did it, why he started to search “Ellie Whitnall” tonight of all nights. He had no idea if she was still in LA or even if Whitnall was still her last name. She could easily be married at this point, although searches for “Ellie Kaneko” didn’t bring up any results. He scrolled through dozens of Ellie Whitnalls on Pictagram, trying not to imagine his daughter screeching out that only “old people” were on Pictagram anymore, glancing at faces, trying to see if any of them looked familiar. But maybe twenty or twenty-five profiles down, he stopped in his tracks.

It was her. She looked so similar. Her hair was a bit shorter, and she didn’t look like a teenager anymore, but he didn’t need the frequent location tags of Los Angeles to know it was her. She looked just like she always had in so many ways. Same thoughtful eyes. Same wide smile. Same little crinkle of her eyebrow when she laughed.

Seeing her again, even just through a screen, was how he always knew it would be. He scrolled through her posts, ravenous to see more of her, to catch any glimpses of her life that he could. She had a daughter, who looked to be a few years older than Lily, with dark brown hair and Ellie’s nose. She seemed to have a close group of friends, as she posted numerous photos of her with the same six women. She didn’t seem to have a partner, though. And there was no ring on her finger.

He had no excuse for what he did next, nothing to blame it on other than seeing her again tripped something inside him. It wasn’t exactly regret or hope or expectation. More a curiosity than anything. After all, he’d always been drawn to her quiet intensity. But for whatever reason, he swiped, pulling up the option to send her a DM.

Hey Troublemaker. It’s been a while

Perma: @mom2000aggie @octobereighth @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14

ROD: @burnsoslow @mskaneko @iplaydrake @louvregirl

Logan x MC: @ridemelikeiamyourdevoregt​

[anotheranimestan]

Asking the Boys to Deal with Mineta for You: Shinsou

Shinsou style revenge + a lil spice for ya at the end

wc: 2.4k

Read the Bakugo ver. here

After hiding in the ladies restroom for about 5 mins you finally got that icky feeling off your body from Mineta and what he did

He was even drooling this time and you had to keep yourself from gaging

You cautiously make your way down the hall to class completely dreading that you’re going to have to see him again so soon

Or ever again for that matter

On your way, you see your crush walking down the hall

Already feeling relieved you call after him

I can’t decide who I want more....Aizawa or his adopted son (that better be cannon or I’m quitting)

Just look at him 😳

“Shinsou!” You whispered loudly at him.

He stopped in his tracks and twisted around looking for the source of the noise. His heart rate increased when he realized it was you, waving him over.

“Hey y/n.” He breezed before seeing the expression on your face. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t even know where to start. How do you tell someone you were just harassed by a hero student. To someone who was wrongly placed in general studies nonetheless. Bumped out by one of your classmates.

“Well...I need your help. If you’re not busy...”

“I was just going—“ he paused with an expression as if he realized he was talking in gibberish. “What is it?”

“It’s...Mineta again.”

He looked at you blankly. You forget that the rest of the school isn’t caught up with class 1-A’s antics all the time.

“Right right. Well he’s the one with the balls—“

“Yea I know who he is but...what’d he do?”

This was painful to squeak out. Embarrassing. Especially to the guy you’d crushed on hard for a long time now. The one you gushed about every day to Mina. So much that she was sick of you.

“Well I was walking into the locker room to change for combat training and he came out of nowhere and bumped into me and...”

He stared at you, holding onto every word. Waiting for the punchline.

“And?”

“And I definitely saw a flash!” You cringed.

“I’m pretty sure he took a picture like...under my skirt!” You said tugging the fabric down at he thought.

His eyebrows flicked up in shock. His face contorted into disgust then annoyance.

“Seriously?”

You nodded. He composed his face back into his normal sleepy, unfazed look.

“So this is what they let go on in 1-A huh?”

Normally you’d bristle at his jabs at your class. But this time he wasn’t wrong. Mineta was a dirty little smear on class 1-A’s reputation. Plus, you really wanted his help. You were so fed up.

“I was too freaked out to you know...do anything.” He nodded in understanding. “But I really wish someone would do something. Go talk to him or something. This is really getting out of hand.”

He shifted around uncomfortably. Shaking his head slightly. Like this was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard all day. The fact that people were just letting this dickhead reek havoc on someone as sweet as you? He’d have ripped his head off by now.

He mumbled something about hero students really getting on his nerves. His usual spiel.

“So...you’ll talk to him?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry.”

His words were soothing but the grin across his face was definitely not keeping you from worrying.

“Wait—“

“C’mon.” He said turning on his heels and heading in the direction you came.

He always walked with his hands in his pockets and leaning back on his heels like he was never in a rush for anyone or anything. Somehow he always had that calm and collected aura about him, like absolutely nothing you threw at him could faze him. It was attractive as hell and the exact reason why you were following him. You were sort of excited to see this play out.

Mineta v. Shinsou

Finally you rounded the corner to find Mineta still camped outside the locker room facing the door.

You scoffed in disgust. Your eyes zeroed in on the camera in grubby little his hands.

Shinsou gently put his arm out against your stomach to motion for you to wait there as he neared him.

You were nervous, anxious, excited.

“Hey 1-A.” Shinsou’s voice was casual but scarily unfriendly. “How’s it going?”

Mineta turned to him. Not noticing you standing in the background.

“Oh err hi Shinsou.” He said unexpectingly.

“Someone asked me to come find you and tell you something.”

“Really?” His nasally voice sounded pathetic in comparison to Shinsou’s smooth sultry one.

“Yea. But I think they were too nice. So I’m going to embellish a little on their behalf.”

“Uhh—?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice was still so casual if you didn’t see the deadly serious look on his face you’d think he was chatting it up with a friend.

Your heart started racing. He didn’t seem this upset earlier!

“I’m—I’m just uhh...”

He couldn’t possibly be able to admit what he was actually doing right now.

“I should kick your ass man. Maybe report you so you’d never make it as a hero. But instead I think I’ll—”

“Shinsou wait dude—“ he was trembling.

Shinsou hadn’t even moved an inch. And he was still easily six feet away from him, his hands relaxed in his pockets. But he was all dark intimidation. Just his glare was throwing Mineta into a panic attack.

“Okay I’m sorry!! I didn’t mean to do it!” The offender started bawling.

Shinsou chuckled with no humor.

“How does one ‘accidentally’ take a picture up someone’s skirt?”

No response.

“What? Now you forgot how to answer a simple question?”

Mineta had to wipe some snot from his nose before speaking again. “I—“

He abruptly ceased trembling and his eyes went blank.

You gasped. Shinsou was using his quirk on him!?

“Y/n close your eyes.” He instructed you softly.

The alarm was going off in your head.

“What?! What are you—” You whispered loudly.

“Please? Quickly.” His voice was sharply contrasted to the way he’d been scaring Mineta.

You slapped both hands over your eyes. Praying that you weren’t about to hear a murder.

Your heart and your breathing were so loud you almost couldn’t hear them over your own panic.

“Strip.” He instructed his victim. “All the way down.”

Oh my god oh my god oh my god was just repeating in your mind over and over.

You heard fabric rustling. Mineta however wasn’t making a sound.

“Now take your sock and put it on your...”

Shinsou started speaking much lower now but you didn’t need to hear to guess what Mineta was putting his sock over right now.

You shuttered at the thought.

After a few moments of agonizing waiting in silence, dying to know what was going on, you yelped at the touch of a hand on the small of your back.

“Shhh. Keep these closed.” Shinsou urged as his large hand slid over both yours as a reinforcement.

He whisked you away with haste, trying to stifle his laugh as you two shuffled through the hall.

“Shinsou!!! Are you crazy?!” You whisper yelled as you flew.

He laughed more in response. “Probably.”

Just then several guys shrieked loudly from the direction you came.

Immediately recognizing it as Denki and Sero. You heard them screaming a couple “what the fuck”s at whatever god awful sight Shinsou had left them.

“Kaminari!” You said, another wave of panick flushing through you.

But then Denki and Sero’s hysterical laughter filled the halls as Mineta, who must have came to life again, started shrieking and sobbing.

A second later you heard Mina and Hagakure screaming and yelling at Mineta to put his clothes back on.

What the fuck was going on right now!?

Soon they were almost out of earshot as Shinsou’s arm that was wrapped around your waist wrangled you to a hault. Your hands slapped with cold from the absence of his warmth as he took his reinforcement hand away.

“Okay. You can open your eyes now.” He said not at all breathless from fleeing the scene like you were.

You slowly opened your eyes to find Shinsou signature sleepy eyes peering down at you. His face was only a few inches away as you two were tucked inside a doorframe. He was pretty. Even prettier this close.

You felt your cheeks get hot as the corner of his mouth tilted up into a little smirk.

He found the confused wild look on your face very cute. As if you’d never done something this questionable in your life.

You were so busy staring at his smooth looking lips that you’d forgotten to speak.

“Well that was....do you think we went too far?” You asked feeling guilty for some reason.

“No.” He said in quiet confidence. “I just gave him a little taste of harassment. So he knows how good it feels.”

You giggled nervously. He really was crazy. It was so attractive...

“Also...” he went to reach for something in his pocket. The shifting cased his body to lean forward. Bringing your lips even closer to touching. “I think you’ve got some private business to take care of with this.”

He dangled the cheap silver little digital camera by its handle in the air between your faces.

You exhaled. True relief finally washing over you. In all the commotion you’d forgotten about it.

“Oh thank god.” You said on a breathe out.

He flicked his head in the camera’s direction, motioning for you to take it.

It kind of grossed you out, holding Mineta’s perv weapons. But you powered through, powering it on and checking the gallery.

Sure enough there it was. Your indecent photo immediately popped up on the screen. He hadn’t gotten a good shot anything but you were still disturbed nonetheless. You cringed in embarrassment. You looked up to see if Shinsou was trying to take a peek. But you were met with only his eyes scanning every inch of your face intently with a lustful face. He wasn’t interested in looking at anything else.

You’d been so absorbed in the photo that you

didn’t notice he’d shifted his body to shield you from the hall to have this private moment. Nobody was out there but you still felt better knowing he was concerned for your privacy.

This also meant he was leaning an arm against the wall next to you ear. Dangerously close. You could almost feel his warm breath on your cheek.

You were biting your lip. As if he wasn’t already drawn to them enough, there you went pulling more blood to them to make them even plumper and delicious looking.

The thank you that escaped your lips was so soft it barely tickled his ears. But it was enough to make his chest swell with pride and satisfaction. He started to say you’re welcome but as his lips parted to speak yours pressed into them. Molding around his bottom lip and sucking gently.

His hand settled on your cheek to pull you in a little closer. Savoring the moment a little longer. The softness of your skin and the smoothness of your lips sending him into sensory bliss. He’d been waiting to see what you felt like since he first saw you walking by his general studies class. You’d smiled at him. You were probably just being polite but he never stopped thinking about how he was going to make this moment right here happen.

Never imagining it would happen like this.

His kiss was short and sweet. He had to use every bit of his self control to pull himself off of you. He didn’t want to scare you off no matter how damn irresistible you were being right now.

He’d always thought you were pretty but right now, while the adrenaline was pumping, you were beyond that. He was reveling in the idea of being your little unconventional hero right now. Hoping he’d get another chance to do it again soon.

His body was pressed against you and you could feel the camera getting smushed. Sadly he pulled away and your body instantly depressed at the absence of his weight on you.

“Feeling better now?” He asked in his usual calm and collected voice.

“Yes. A strange way to get there though.” He smiled at your giggle.

Reminded of the only task he’d left to you, you raised the camera and pressed the delete button. Shutting it off before you could find out what other things he had on there.

“Can you get rid of it?” You said handing him the camera back. Not wanting anything to do with it. “Throw it in a lake or something I don’t know.”

He took it easily and clicked out the SIM card.

“How about something more fun.”

To your surprise he, with no struggle, bent the SIM card in half. Breaking it and then dropped the camera on the floor.

You choked at the loud crunching noise the metal made as he stomped on it.

“Oh my god.” You said laughing. He was confirmed crazy.

“What? It’s the best way in my opinion. Give it a stomp.”

“No.” You said giggling uncontrollably now as he nudged your ticklish spot.

“You really should. How often do you get to stomp on Mineta’s shit?” He insisted, amused by your reaction to his poke.

“Okay okay.” You caved as you pressed on it with your foot, breaking the glass.

“What?” He said with a disappointed eyebrow. “That was the worst stomp I’ve ever seen. I thought you were in the hero course y/n.”

You rolled your eyes and gave it a better kick, to his satisfaction. He chucked the SD card in a garbage can and picked up the mangled camera.

“Let’s go see if that 1-A phone charger is still laughing.” He said grabbing your hand and tugging you along with him. “Plus...” he wiggled the camera, “I have to give Mineta his property back.”

You snorted. “I don’t think he’ll be getting within fifty feet of you any time soon. Good luck chasing him down.”

He grew a wicked grin at the thought. “Should be fun.”

He whisked you away faster and you both flew down the hall cheesing at what had easily become one of your favorite memories together at UA.

~~

😩👆stop it.

General tags from my masterlist: @edgyb1tch @waywardcowboyllamavoid @ladybeautiful18

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[shihalyfie]

Kizuna drama CD: Detail spotting and nuance analysis

02 involved displaying its group dynamic through mundane interactions and wacky hijinks, and the circumstances of an eight-year block of time between Kizuna and 02, plus the fact that Hikari and Takeru operate separately from the others due to the movie’s circumstances, mean that the drama CD centering around the group is actually our most reliable source of info regarding how they’re doing at this time and how their group dynamic is going. Much like 02 itself, getting a lot of this nuance requires reading between the lines, so let’s take a closer look!

Since this is a drama CD and not animated material, I’ll be going through this in bullet points instead of screenshots.

The fact that the drama CD itself deliberately uses the same format as a 02 episode carries a very strong implication that, unlike their seniors who are going through an existential crisis about how much of their childhood experiences they can bring with them into adulthood, the 02 group is still roughly able to recreate the same atmosphere they had eight years ago. Noticeably, the ending song chosen for this is the first ED (Tomorrow My Wind Will Blow), the more lighthearted one used for the first half, before a lot of really emotionally vicious things started happening to them.

The phrase “it’s been a while” and variants thereof come up between this group a lot within this drama CD (and once in the movie itself, from Hawkmon to the others). Look closely at the circumstances of this drama CD and how everyone seems to be very intimately aware of each other’s situations, and the fact that this story obviously takes place only a short time before the movie itself -- so it really hasn’t been a very long time at all, but apparently even that much is considered a “long time” for them. (It also seems like they’re going out of their way to make sure they’re still keeping in regular contact even when they can’t actually meet up.)

Daisuke says, very clearly, that Iori was the one he intended to approach “first” because he was so busy -- but he’s shown walking in with Takeru, meaning that the two of them are on very good terms now and seem to have been hanging out independently.

Daisuke wanted his plan to be a “surprise” reveal to the others, and the actual practical purpose of his plan (it being a career study trip for him) seems to have been very low on the priority list to the point it takes the CD’s entire half-hour runtime for him to finally bring it up. Before then, he’d been cheerfully fantasizing about all the fun things he’d get to do with them, and it even says a lot that he’d also wanted to discuss this at a karaoke bar of all things, so, really, in his head, “hanging out with friends and having fun with them” is the actual priority (especially since there’s basically no reason he needs to have the others on his ramen research trip, he just wants them there because he does).

The fact that the boys have to sneak in the Digimon to avoid getting extra charges means that society will now recognize them as patrons to be regularly charged.

Daisuke is asked by Iori which people he intends to bring to his trip, which implies that the 02 group isn’t technically an exclusive club or anything...but then Daisuke proceeds to list off the 02 group by name, implying that this group does indeed have a particularly elevated level of importance to him.

Look carefully at the nuances surrounding whom Daisuke wants to invite to his trip: he wanted to invite the seniors as well, but resigned himself to the fact it’d probably be impossible because they were too busy...only for the others to point out that the rest of the 02 group is also busy, but everyone is confident that they’ll make it work, and Daisuke wants them there to the point of listing them by name. So in other words, Daisuke likes everyone and would like everyone around in the ideal situation, but when push comes to shove, the rest of the 02 group is whom he really wants to have around, and said group can be reliably counted on to do whatever it takes to make it work.

The way everyone casually describes each other's circumstances (and in specific detail, not just generally describing what they're up to) says a lot; Armadimon's still talking with Hawkmon about Miyako (meaning Miyako and Iori are still regularly in contact), Takeru's up-to-date with Ken's life to the point of knowing his upcoming schedule, Daisuke's fully aware of how busy Iori is, and, later, the one to affectionately greet Hawkmon is none other than Wormmon, who, back in 02, used to only really be close with Ken himself and V-mon. You can see that everyone’s still constantly involved in each other’s lives, including their own partners being up-to-date on each other (compare the more distant relationship their seniors are portrayed with in the movie itself, both with each other and with their partners), and you can also see that Ken and Wormmon have fully integrated themselves into the group to the point it’s a completely casual affair (Iori, the one who infamously had the longest and most drawn-out process in accepting Ken, is the one to personally ask him about his preferences).

That said, note that Takeru and Iori still seem to be on surname basis with Ken, even despite obviously being much closer with him than they were before; unfortunately, it seems that having been on surname basis with him so long in 02 became a habit, leaving Daisuke and Miyako as the only ones currently known to have switched to given name basis with him.

It’s interesting that Ken, not Daisuke, is the one explicitly stated to be keeping up with soccer to the point of having schedule commitments, whereas no mention of this whatsoever is made with Daisuke, and it’s entirely possible that Daisuke actually quit playing it in an organized fashion. This is, however, consistent with their personalities, in that Ken would likely want to keep up with organized extracurricular hobbies, whereas Daisuke may enjoy soccer as a hobby, but not enough to continue committing to a high-level team. (Remember that Daisuke took a while to get a regular position even back in elementary school; as much as he liked the sport, he also wasn’t particularly outstanding at it, and especially not in comparison to Taichi, Sora, or Ken.)

Miyako leaving for Spain seems to have been a recent thing, since it has to actively be brought up in conversation as a reminder (and Daisuke seemed to initially have not taken into account that she wouldn’t be easily able to join the trip in that case, since the issue of the D-3 hadn’t come up yet). When she shows up later in person, everyone’s shocked, as if it’s unnerving for her to be back in Japan already.

Daisuke still seems to have a thing for Hikari, but note that this doesn’t really go beyond “wanting to hang out with Hikari a lot”. Also, he says this in plain view of Takeru without bringing him up at all, and Takeru himself has nothing to say about it (not even awkward laughter), meaning that he really has no object in this whatsoever.

It’s interesting to see that Armadimon, who used to have to ask about how human society works quite often in 02, is now well-versed enough in Japanese culture to be really passionate about it.

As usual, Iori does not mince words (when it's about Nagoya specialty food, at least).

Also as usual, Ken is surprisingly academic about his interests and a huge nerd.

Note Takeru's awkward "I don't really want to insult you, but also, that's weird" reaction to Ken’s speech about the hot springs -- very classic Takeru, not quite being honest for the sake of keeping the peace and awkwardly trying to be nice about it -- in contrast to Daisuke, who just honestly goes straight for the commentary. That said, regardless of how unusual of a hobby everyone around him clearly finds it, note how they all still decide to accommodate it anyway and support his interest in it.

Hypocritically, V-mon calls Daisuke out for being “embarrassing” regarding his fixation on Hikari, only to suddenly get caught off-guard by Tailmon shortly after...

Hikari's behavior has the most clear-cut contrast from herself in 02, consisting of her very assertively stating what she wants, for herself -- very important because her problems in 02 revolved around her compulsively being unable to voice her own thoughts if it meant putting a burden on others. Here, Hikari gets argumentative about what she, personally, wants to do. Given that she doesn’t quite act like this in front of her seniors in the course of the movie, and is depicted as being particularly in-sync with Miyako here -- and given how Miyako was instrumental in reaching out to her during the events of 02 -- it’s pretty easy to see how Hikari became able to assert herself like this.

Similarly, much like how Tailmon was portrayed as lightening up a bit between Adventure and 02 thanks to her new, happier life, here, she seems to be exactly on the same page as Hikari in terms of wanting to fight people for something materialistic.

Hawkmon says that it's "only natural" for them to show up whenever this group is getting together, and, indeed, Miyako was technically uninvited because everyone thought she was busy in Spain -- but was clearly in contact with them (or at least Hikari) to know that this meeting was happening. (There’s probably a group chat.)

This is implied to be the first time the 02 group has seriously considered using D-3 gate exploitation to visit each other and to travel. The group had already made use of this exploitation during 02 itself (to have Palmon delivered to New York back in 02 episode 38 and to meet up in the Digital World), but it is true that they hadn’t been necessarily using it even when it arguably would be more convenient than Tokyo transportation and Imperialdramon. So in other words, for the last eight years, through all the meetups they seem to have been having with each other (and remember, Ken lived in Tamachi, not Odaiba, at the time of 02, and there’s no guarantee that nobody in the Odaiba neighborhood didn’t move at some point), they were perfectly fine with using the inconvenience of Tokyo transportation to meet each other, or to meet up in the Digital World instead -- but then Miyako found herself in another country, and decided that she wasn't going to stand for being separated from the others for too long.

As usual, Hawkmon still has to be Miyako’s concerned minder when she’s on the verge of going out of control.

Miyako had already been implied to be in Barcelona thanks to the scenery outside her window and the movie end credits, but her speech about Spain drives it in even further with the Gaudí references.

Despite Spain being possibly the one of the worst possible options for what's later revealed to be Daisuke's motive for this trip (ramen research), it seems that Miyako baiting him with mention of the soccer league was enough to get him momentarily distracted (and also indicates that Daisuke still clearly has an active interest in soccer even if he may not be regularly playing anymore).

Speaking of which, it’s pretty obvious that Miyako knew exactly what to bait Daisuke with in order to do this.

Takeru, the group's resident moderator, is of course the one to step in and prevent Tailmon and Armadimon from wreaking too much havoc (Daisuke is mostly just slightly intimidated) -- but you might also notice that he's otherwise not saying anything about the group's chaotic antics, and in fact is guilty of enabling them even further...

Daisuke continues to have his penchant for pointing out the elephant in the room -- he's exactly right, how is Wormmon supposed to put on skis?

It is, of course, only natural that Miyako would be sensitive to knowing about currency exchange and the use of American dollars in the Digital World, given that she presumably hasn't forgotten the Digitamamon incident from 02 episode 14.

For the first time in 19 real-life years, we finally learn what Daisuke’s original motive for wanting to get into ramen making was: in true Daisuke fashion, he himself has no idea (but he just really likes ramen).

Daisuke "credits" his friends for giving him insightful advice and helpful resources in thinking about his career and future plans, but, as it turns out, everyone else wasn't thinking nearly as much of it -- either they hardly remember it, or it wasn't actually supposed to mean anything insightful. It's obviously not to say that they're not fully supportive of him (the events of this drama CD blatantly indicate otherwise), but rather that Daisuke attributes everything important and helpful in his life to his friends to ridiculous degrees, even when it's something completely ordinary like a train ticket that anyone should know about.

As always, Daisuke is very realistically aware of his own limitations, admitting freely that he was actually lacking in experience and insight to follow his dream (especially since he took the "advice" from his friends very, very seriously).

Note how quickly everyone changes their tune and immediately decides to unequivocally support Daisuke the moment they realize there's actually a very important reason to him that he wants to go on this trip.

Also note that when Hikari compliments Daisuke, Daisuke is completely at a loss -- yet again, Daisuke's been so busy rolling around for Hikari's approval that he hasn't accounted for what to do when he actually gets it.

Daisuke picking New York, of all locations, as his stop to research ramen certainly explains why Ken has to ask "why ramen?" during the movie itself -- as this drama CD indicates, and as per the events of 02 episode 50, he absolutely knows why Daisuke would want to get ramen, but ramen in New York, which isn't exactly the cultural center of ramen making, is a different story.

The fact that this was a planned multi-day trip also explains why the group changes clothes and is in New York for multiple days over the course of the movie (because they probably had a hotel, too). It also further contextualizes the likely reason Miyako felt like dealing with Menoa’s request was too much work -- she wanted to be on this trip instead -- and says a lot about how she’ll dump a request on her seniors when it’s too much hassle for her, but accept that same request back if it’s something she gets to do with her friends.

Takeru and Hikari are explicitly stated to be scheduled to join the trip on the second day, meaning that them operating separately from the quartet during the events of the movie was sheer scheduling circumstance -- and since we find out in the movie that Takeru was the one to inform Yamato about Daisuke's whereabouts, this CD here clarifies that Takeru has this knowledge because he himself was set to be on this trip (and would have been, if the events of the movie hadn't gotten in the way).

Probably the most interesting take-home from this narrative is how absurdly close the 02 group is portrayed as, and in very, very stark contrast to their seniors in the movie itself -- who are said to be drifting apart as they all find their individual paths. Here, the 02 group is the opposite; while they do seem to have their own goals (Hikari and Daisuke are outright identified as having some of the clearest ones), it’s obvious that those goals are secondary to being able to hang out with and support each other (in other words, they still have those goals, but they’re much lower priorities for them). This is consistent with how these dynamics were portrayed back in 02, since the Adventure group had been portrayed as being prone to drifting apart as early as Our War Game!, whereas the 02 group was built from the ground up as needing each other’s mutual support much more deeply -- it’s just that, now that they’re all much older, this distinction in group dynamic is much more prominent.

[jawritter]

The Art Of Letting Go

Summary: You though you were searching for Demon!Dean to help Sammy cure his brother. When you do find him, Dean shows you just exactly what you’ve been looking for.

Created for: @spndarkbingo

Square Field: Dub Con

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Smut, fingering, Demon!Dean (yes, he has his own warning), slight angst, dub con, language, spn level violence, I think that’s it...

A/N: This fic was beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks hun! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!

Want more? Check out my MASTERLIST! Still want more? BECOME A PATREON, and get exclusive fics and make request!! 

People are affected by things differently. No one processes trauma the same way. Some people close up completely. They refuse to talk about what they’ve been through, and shut themselves off to everyone around them. Some people chose therapy. They choose a professional stranger as a way to vent, or get it off their chest. Some people get violent and want to seek revenge for whatever happened to them, whether that be to a person, group of people, or just the universe in general. 

You’ve seen it all. This life, it had very few secrets left for people in your line of work. You’ve seen them cry, kill themselves, go bat shit crazy and murder everyone they were ever attached too. You’ve seen them lock themselves in the house and refuse to come outside again. 

You often wondered what had happened to that girl. She was such a good hunter. She had finally come across the one thing she couldn’t handle mentally. You were pretty sure it would happen to you one day as well. 

In all the things you’ve seen, in all the horrors you’ve experienced, in all the shit you’ve hunted, you’ve never seen anything that held a candle to Dean Winchester. He once was a damn good hunter,  a friend, but had now turned demon. You know it was the mark that had turned him, and what it was doing to him that made him who he was today, but to say he was handling the trauma from his past life as a human to now swimmingly was bullshit. He literally took all the trauma he’d been through in his life, channeled the anger, took on the fucking mark of Cain and died  and became a demon. You didn’t give a shit what Sam said. Dean had done it on purpose. 

At least he was creative? 

You and Dean  had never been very close, but in all fairness, Dean was only ever close to a handful full of people. You? Hell, you were just another hunter. Not someone he was ever attached too. Not that he had time to even really get to know you anyway. You grew up in one of the many hunting compounds, and you joined about a month before Dean became the beast you were currently hunting. 

You had always idolized Dean in a way. You had heard all the stories over the years growing up, and you always wanted to work with him, meet him. Now? Fuck, now you were hunting the very man you swore that one day, you’d work along side him to save the world. Funny how that shit turned out. 

Sam swore he could cure Dean. You remain unconvinced. Either way, the problem at the moment was finding the bastard. Years of hunting when he was human made Dean damn near impossible to find, and you were pretty sure he was leaving the pair of you a trail of breadcrumbs that literally had you going  around in circles. 

“What, Sam?” You growled in the phone that wouldn’t stop ringing on the seat next to you. It had been ringing almost non-stop for the past thirty minutes, and you didn’t know how to tell him that you still hadn’t found his brother, and  were pretty sure you were never going to find him. 

“Y/N, listen, I just got some video footage from a convenience store about 30 minutes north of where you are right now. Dean was seen there.He beat a man to death with a skin mag. Can you check the local bars and strip clubs, see if you can find him?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, thankful that Sam was unable to see it. This was a first. Dean in his demon form, decided to beat the poor ass hole to death with a fucking porn magazine. He had a knife that was very capable to do the job for him, but this just proved there may be more of the old Dean still in here than you wanted to admit out loud. It took all the self control you had left in you not to burst into hysterical laughter, or ask Sam to send you the footage so you can laugh, and not be judged for it later. 

“I’ll check it out Sam, but I’m starting to think we’re not going to see Dean again in person unless he wants to be found.” 

The resounding silence on the other end was hard to read. You couldn’t tell if you were actually getting through to him with reason alone, or if he was just as done  as you were looking for Dean. 

“Just… Just try, okay?” Sam pleaded, and you could literally hear the fucking puppy dog eyes in his voice through the phone, damn him. 

“Okay, there’s a bar about five miles from me. I’ll start there and If I find anything I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks Y/N, I really couldn’t do this without you,” he says, letting go the breath he was obviously holding. 

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it Winchester,” you tell him before hanging up on him. He’d said enough for tonight, and a few strip joints and bars were all you were willing to do before finding a place to crash for a while. Dean may be a demon, but you were still human and needed at least another four hours before continuing this wild goose chase. 

You couldn’t deny as you pulled up in front of the old dive bar, that it was just the kind of place the Dean you know would have chosen to hang out in. You could hear the crappy country music blaring even outside in the parking lot, and there were plenty of blondes walking around in cut off shorts to choses from, adding a nice Backwoods appeal to the place that would have drawn the elder Winchester in like flies to horseshit. 

Human Dean was predictable, and you missed that. The only question that remained  was just how much of the man was still inside the  monster. 

As soon as your boots hit the gravel outside your car, a cold chill shot down your spine, throwing your hunter instincts into high gear. You didn’t haven’t even have time to grab your angel blade before your body was pinned to the outside of your Mustang with enough force to knock the wind out of you. The smell of sulfur assaulted your senses, and a scent you knew all too well… Dean.

You could feel the cold steal of the first blade pressing into the thin fabric of your flannel, and you shivered involuntarily at the hot breath that smelled of  beer, sulfur, and spearmint gum fanning over your face, Dean’s strong calloused hand had a tight grip around your throat, while the other held your hands behind your back as if you were nothing more than a blowup doll. No form of shaking, kicking, or moving at all seemed to be able to break his inhuman hold. 

“You know sweetheart, you and my little brother are getting on my last fucking nerve. I told you both to let me go, and what do you do? You chase me across the country like a fucking bitch in heat, all at the request of Sammy.” 

You swallow around the lump that was in your throat as best you could with Dean’s hand holding your neck, tight enough to leave a bruise. You knew he’d been leaving a trail for you, you weren’t an idiot, but you didn’t expect him to be so… well, Dean. You expected a stupid demon, like the hundreds you’d sent back to hell before him. Boy, were you wrong. 

“Then why don’t you just fucking kill me, Dean?” You asked him, knowing that if he wanted you dead you’d already would be, especially if he knew you were tailing him. “If I’m that much of a fucking pest, why didn’t you just handle it three states back?”

An inhuman growl sounded close to your ear, and you felt his solid chest vibrate on your back, his hand tighten around your neck, cutting off most of your air supply. 

You could feel your body responding to his administration, even though you knew it was wrong. The sheer, raw power that seemed to be pouring from his grip on your hand had slick gathering in your underwear and there wasn’t shit you could do about it. 

“Why should I do you that favor hun, Y/N, when you and I could have so much fun together.” 

Dean’s hot breath fanned over the shell of your ear, closely followed by his teeth, sending a shiver of disgust down your spine, and to your horror, more arousal pooling between your legs. 

“Fuck off, Dean,” you gritted back at him, determined to fight against this senseless attraction to the very thing you were trained to hunt and kill from birth. 

This is wrong, this is wrong…

No matter how much you repeated it to yourself, the fast growing bulge in Dean’s jeans against your ass had your cunt squeezing around nothing, begging the fucking demon to fill you up, stretch you in a way you’d only fantasised  about. Knowing the human Dean was packing, and a god of man that seemed to drip sex on bowed legs? What woman with a pulse wouldn’t think about it? 

“See, your lips are saying fuck off, but that little pussy of yours? Well, it’s saying come to Daddy.” 

Dean’s hot tongue licked from the shell of your ear to your jawline, and you had to bite down hard on your lip to stifle the moan that was right on the edge of your lips. His hand that had been holding your throat slipped down your body, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping into your panties with ease, wasting no time in slipping two thick digits into your soaking folds, toying with your entrance. 

A deep chuckle ripped through his throat when he felt just how wet you were, and damn it if his fingers didn’t already have you on the edge of oblivion as they slipped into your cunt, pumping and curling slowly. You fought against the overwhelming urge to grind down against his hand to get the friction you needed from him.

This is wrong, this is wrong…

“Look at you,” the demon said, grinding his full denim covered erection against your ass as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, hitting your G-spot with terrifying precision. “So fucking wet and needy. How many times have imagined these dirty little fingers of yours were mine, baby? How many times have you cum moaning my name, like your doing right now? Better keep it down or you're going to get us caught, and you won't get to cum.”

You hadn’t realized all the noise you’d been making until he’d pointed it out, but here you were, all but saying his name like a prayer as your legs began to shake, the coil in your stomach winding painfully tight. 

“Dean, please,” you begged him, unsure if you wanted him to stop, because you knew this was so fucking wrong. You didn’t fuck demons, this wasn’t you, but be  fucked if it didn’t feel so fucking good. Dean was playing your body like a fiddle, and you were helplessly grinding down on his hands as he increased the speed of his fingers. 

“Please what, Y/N?” he said, chuckling as you did all you could not to fall over the edge he had you teetering on. “It’s all you sweetheart, all you gotta do is let go.” 

You shook your head no as he laughed again, sinking his teeth into your pulse point  hard enough to make you almost cum right there, but you refused to do it, you just couldn’t do it.

This is wrong, this is WRONG!

“You know what your problem is Y/N? You are always SO FUCKING TENSE! All the fucking time. You walk around like you got this big stick up your ass, and a chip on your shoulder. I did the same for a long fucking time, but you know what baby girl, I’m gonna do you a favor. I’m gonna teach you the art of letting go, and we’re gonna start right here in this parking lot. Now, cum.” 

Dean added his thumb against your throbbing clit, and as if on command from some invisible force, you came hard enough to blur your vision. The coil in your stomach snapped as your pussy clenched around his thick digits, your juices running down his hand and soaking your panties further. He worked you through your release until your body fell lax against the car, and your breath came out in short pants as you tried to stand on shaking legs. 

“Hope you're not too tired yet bitch, that was just lesson one.” Dean said, turning you around to meet cole black eyes, and a smirk carved by the devil himself. 

You knew this was wrong, but there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to get away from him now, so you might as well sit back and learn how to let go and enjoy the ride.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​ @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl​ @love-jackles-37-blog​ @miraclesoflove​ @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth​ @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @hayleeharling​   @flamencodiva​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin​ @itmejado​ @supernatural3002​ @teresa-67​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @hearteyes-j2​ @miss-nerd95​

[angeli-marco-writes]

Elizabeth Debicki - Gorgeous

A/N & WC - Back again with Elizabeth and Taylor Swift. Reputation is my favourite album currently, with evermore as a close second. Two incredible women in one yes please. Listen to 'Gorgeous' while reading for the feel of it. 2.8k exactly.

Warnings - Legal alcohol consumption, mild cursing once.

Summary - Elizabeth is gorgeous, just look at her, the world can see it. A drunken night leads to some tipsy confessions, but does Elizabeth feel the same?

“YOU'RE SO GORGEOUS…”

“What was that?” Elizabeth swiftly cuts in.

Your eyes grow wide in an instant, looking down intensely at the black table, sticky with spilt drinks, and turn your attention away.

“Nothing…” you trail off. Frankly, you hadn’t realised you were thinking aloud, but if you said what you were thinking, then tonight's girls night out with your best friend is gonna be a whole lot harder.

“So as I was saying, this guy from Bumble, he comes and he looks nothing like his profile picture, right?” Her eyes are so animated when she speaks, her jaw agog in a remembering shock, she taps at her glass with ebony painted fingernails. “Like his picture was a solid eight outta ten, but in person, not even a four. But there was something about him, you know? That little twinkle in his eye, so I gave him more of a fair shot than I do other catfishes.” You hum noncommittally, not necessarily listening to the words, but the soft undulating animation in her beautiful accent is worth listening to any day, even if just hearing about her going on a date with someone riles you up intensely. “No personality,” she gapes, smacking her lissom hands down on the table with a slight thump, causing some of her wine to spill. “Absolutely none! It was like talking to a brick wall for half an hour. Can you believe it? And he asked what part of Australia I was from, and when I said Melbourne, you know what he said? ‘Is that in New Zealand.’”

She scoffs, and downs the last of her wine. Her magnetic field is so strong, so alluring, you can’t help but feel drawn to her even more. She really should think about the consequences of her charisma or else you might snog her and ruin everything before the nights even over.

“What a dick,” you play along.

“Ugh, I know. Refill?”

“Please. Whiskey—”

“On ice. I know, hon.”

She smirks, shooting you a wink before standing up and practically gliding across the room to the bar. Your eyes twinkle with hope, with sinful want, as you watch her, and you’re sure that with your wistful expression and flushed cheeks and the way your mouth suddenly goes dry the second she says or does anything that could be construed in the least bit flirtatious that she knows how much you like her. Your whole body tingles, your words and sense swallowed up by an intense fire the second she touches you, it’s beginning to make you furious that she’s able to make you feel this way and still acts so coy about it if she even does have the first clue how utterly besotted you are with everything she does.

Over at the bar, Liz has to hunch to lean her forearms on the countertop, kicking her feet back a little, her short dress showing off her long, shapely legs with grace. She looks so sultry, with her leather jacket shrugged so casually over her pale shoulders. But your mind and illicit thoughts plummet and die the second you peer around her and capture a look at the bartender she’s talking to. Tall and that muscular build of slim that only comes from years of sport, a pinched waist and full chest, tanned skin—perhaps of Filipina descent, dark inky hair falling in tendrils from her work ponytail, no makeup and she still looks stunning. And exactly like Shay Mitchell. And she's flirting with your Elizabeth. Not that she’s yours or anything, that would be absurd, unless…

This woman is gorgeous, and you’re already jealous of her, of the attention she’s receiving from Elizabeth; the suggestive touches, the coy laughs, the revealing tug of her dress, the tentative tilt of her head, the run of her slender hand through her choppy blonde locks. But because Liz is single, it’s actually worse, because she’s been a lot more open and experimental with her sexuality recently, not labelling it but trying more out, trying more partners out. And you don’t fault her for that for even a moment, but why she can’t experiment with you, a raging queer, is beyond your grasp. It’s almost undoubted that she’s going to be taking this incredibly scorching hot bartender home at the end of the night, and if you weren’t out with Elizabeth, you’d be making the same move. But Liz… she desperately needs to think of the consequences of her touching this romans hand in a darkened room. That should be you.

You can’t get too possessive, though, as Liz has done her fair amount of touching you all night on this signature girls pub crawl, but it’s not the same, it’s not… enough. She’s been holding your hand, hooking her arm through yours to do shots, hugging you with her lithe arm around your waist as you totter down the high street in heels too high. It’s all been too friendly, though. And now it’s getting late, your final destination of the night. You’re practically the only patrons with a conscience at this point. You’ll be turning in soon, the bar will be closing soon, it’s inevitable. Liz will have a warm bed, and you’ll be left to go home alone to your cats. She’s so gorgeous, you can't blame the bartender, but she can’t blame you wither; love made you crazy.

You’re busy brooding over the ice slowly melting at the bottom of your glass, condensation forming in droplets on the rim when Liz casts a glance over her shoulder, a bright beaming smile etched upon her face, every line drawn up to match her glee. She points a long raven-painted digit at you, and prompts you to smile back, which you do—without even half as much fervour—and ensure you incline your head towards the bartender, whose dark hazel eyes are now fixed on you, before turning back, pretending to have found something of interest on the table.

“That’s y/n,” she says in a happy, furtive whisper, “my best friend.”

With her ocean blue eyes looking in yours, your mind is all scrambled, and with the intense feeling you might sink and drown and die, you know you need to get it in order before she returns, so you push your own stool out and head to stand in the doorway, fresh air hitting you like a brick wall.

The smell of the city instantly prevents it being worthwhile.

The sun set long ago, and you can see vines crawling up the building across the road from you, even in the dim street light and shadows. Even in a tucked away corner of the city, down back streets in a quiet quarter, the incessant incense of exhaust fumes and chippy food and pigeon shit never quite leaves one alone.

Everything’s winding down, quietening, muffled by an indelible blanket of night. A soft mist fills the air, an impending storm infiltrating your senses, roiling you a little. The walk home will be made worse by the rain soon to fall, ire digging at you for more reasons than one.

Elizabeth… She can make you so happy with one simple look that it turns back to sadness the moment you see the flicker of friendliness in her eyes, never anything more, never anything deeper, not once. What can you say? She’s gorgeous, she’s everyone else's for the taking, whoever she deems rakish enough to take home for the night.

The silence of the night, of your thoughts, is hewn by a sharp siren whizzing past you, so you push your pain away, and sidle back through the doors, shutting the slow drizzle of rain out as you close the door behind you.

Once you return inside, your thoughts slightly more reordered, you see her back at the table, fiddling idly with the hem of her dress, her cheeks tinted a soft red.

“So?”

“I got her number,” she confesses, barely able to bite back a smile, even as her perfect white teeth graze her lower lip. “She gets off shift in an hour.”

You were right, then.

“That’s nice. She’s hot.”

“I know,” she replies dreamily, “and looks exactly like Shay Mitchell, can you believe it? I fancied her so much when Pretty Little Liars first came out.”

“Yeah, I did too.” you admit quietly, clasping your hands around your fresh whiskey.

“You okay? It’s getting late, we can head off now.”

“Nope, absolutely fine. In fact, I think I’ll have another. Tell me something.”

“But we haven’t talked about you all night, I wanna know how your life is going. Love life too.” she protests.

What, your life with the monotonous job and the zero romantic prospects so you spend all your free time sitting at home reading and the nights with your vibrator and Liz in your head? How the hell are you supposed to tell her that.

You simply shrug, and keep a mask of cold, hard resolve in place. “You know my life. I’m interested in yours. Go on.”

So she does. And you do order another whiskey after your first, to the point where you’re verging on the highest restraints of merely tipsy and if you have another you’re heading fast for straight out drunk, which you shan’t do. But you’re merry, and Liz’s words all sound weird, slurred a little from the alcohol, her Australian accent bending to accommodate the vowel sounds she’s making with the occasional slip of a Polish or French word in there. She gets like this when she’s drinking, and it’s one of her most endearing qualities very few are able to see.

“Your voice sounds really weird,” you chuckle, leaning back in your chair, “you’re talkin’ all funny.”

“No I’m not!”

“You are.”

“Am so not!” She’s persistent, she never did back down easy.

You half heartedly shrug, knocking your glasses into one another on the table. You tug your jacket further around you, and purse your lips readying for battle.

“You know, you really should take it as a compliment that I’ve got drunk and I’m making fun of the way you talk.”

She allows her precisely plucked brows to dance over her face in surprise, though quickly schools her features into a plain mask.

“Alright, what’s up?”

“Nothing, Liz. I’m fine.” you say adamantly, and take another swig from your drink, savouring the tang on your tongue. Your glass makes another thud when you slam it down with unplanned and unnecessary force.

“You see, your mouth says that, but your… mouth is telling me something else?”

Before you can help it, your fingers are clutching the edge of the table, your cheeks heating softly, “I haven’t kissed you yet, how can that be?”

A chill slithers down your skin as her eyes grow wide, her pale skin blanching a shade further. “I didn’t mean, um, what? I—” she breaks off with a cough. “I ju— just meant that, um, you’re… sulking.”

“Oh.”

You can’t ignore the way your stomach plummets into the core of the earth, embarrassment taking over every other rational thought within your mind and body. Your soul is already brittle, but this? Your pride has certainly taken a knock enough for you to down the rest of your whiskey in one gulp.

“I’m gonna take off,” you say at last, across the curious blanket of silence, ignoring the way her angular face—limned with hope—falls a fraction.

“Please stay.”

You don’t think you hear her correctly, if at all. For all you know, her words could just be a whisper in the blustering breeze beating outside, the storm you predicted arriving early. In the dim bar, you’re away from it all, sage, until the bartender gets off shift and snatches Liz away for yet another night.

“Beg pardon?”

“Please stay,” she repeats, louder this time, but her blue eyes don’t meet yours across the table. “Tell me what’s up.”

She’s not backing down, so you brace yourself, allowing brazenness to fill you with courage, allowing your alcohol to eddie around you, summoning the words at long last.

“Nothing…” you say at first, because really, it is nothing, but she cocks her head at you that authoritative way. God, she should be a teacher with her assertive glances. “Just that you‘re so gorgeous I can’t say anything to your face…” you snatch her cup across the table, and take a deep swallow before shrugging and casting your gaze outside to spare yourself the mortification of being rejected. “Sober at least.”

You’re met with a beat of silence, “Why?”

“Look at your face!” you shout, utterly exasperated. You’ve got a good mind to pull a compact mirror to remind her how drop-dead stunning she is. “I’m so furious at you for making me feel this way.”

“Why, baby? What way?” she croons.

Too caught up in your momentary lapse of judgement and rant, you fail to notice her edging closer to you, moving your glasses out the way, letting her forearms rest on the sticky table just so she can watch the way you lick your lips with nerves.

“Crazy, because you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts.”

“R—really?” she stammers.

You turn back to her, all thoughts evaporating with her ocean blue eyes looking in yours, driving you insane. Her pretty lips are all parted and awaiting, how much you want to kiss her… So instead, you pout, and begin to throw a strop in your tipsy state.

“Tell me more.”

“No.”

“C’mon,” she teases, a smirk toying at her mouth, giving her cheeks subtle dimples. “Don’t leave me hanging. “Tell me what you really think. How I make you feel. I wanna hear,” her voice drops to a purr, leaning over the table to husk in your ear, “every little thing.”

“Ok then,” you concede. “You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.”

“I don’t see how,” she snorts, “but continue.”

Her attention never once fails you or turns away, enamoured with your every mere breath.

“You’re gorgeous. Your magnetic field is too strong for me to cope. Your energy draws me in. You’re all I want.”

“More.” she coaxes, a single word, but a whisper, and yet it stokes the embers of desire in the pit of your stomach, your forehead creasing to attempt to draw some concentration back from the depths of your mind where your fantasies about her saying that exact word in that exact breathy way linger.

Perhaps your adulation is excessive, but you don't miss the sparkle in her eyes at each compliment you dole. This is your final card, though, and you’re going to play it right, so you forget about the consequences of touching her hand in a darkness room, and simply intertwine your fingers, drawing your noses to meet over the table.

“You've ruined my life, by not being mine,” you profess, ensuring that your hot breath fans over her lips. You can feel her shudder. “And you know there’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have.”

“I’m all yours if you’ll have me.”

And just like that, the world stops turning around you. Your heart lilts, your mind prattles on about all you want to say, all you want to do. But then it stops. And all of a sudden, you’re intrepid, desperate to ravish her and ruin her for all other women, eager to kiss her voraciously until you can scarcely breathe, yearning to feel her words of reassurance wrap around you, if only she agrees to your proposal over that of the hot bartender.

“Well, I’ve told you what's up, so I guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats. Alone... unless you wanna come along.”

You push away from the table and stand with a slight shrug, turning your back on her, making strides for the door and the storm bristling outside. Only, you barely make it to the door before Liz’s slender hand is wrapped around your arm, and is turning you back to her, tugging you closer, chest to chest, nose to nose.

“Fuck yes, księżniczka. After that, of course I’m coming.”

Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, a desperate battle of will, and her tongue slides over the seam of your lips. You grant her entry with an open mouth, heat skittering over your skin as she holds you tighter, closer, with a deeper urgency you don’t hesitate to match.

Her crystal eyes simmer as she withdraws, her forehead on yours. Her lips brush yours as she breathes, and she grabs your hand, heading out into the night with Liz, at long last.

“For the record, you’re gorgeous and perfect and drive me crazy too. Everything you said tonight, I echo. What can I say?”

You’re gorgeous.

[strawberryaziraphale]

reddie + speed dating

“What’s your poison, Eduardo?”

“Whatever gets me out of here the quickest,” Eddie didn’t match Richie’s enthusiasm as he joined him at the bar. He nervously glanced at his name tag, adjusting it for the third time. He glanced around sceptically, taking in his surroundings, “I’m not sure about this, Rich.”

He’d only agreed to this because Richie swore by it, insisting he get out there and have a good time. ‘A great way to meet people,’ he’d said, even promising to join him for emotional support. That didn’t stop him from grabbing a sticker for himself, scrawling his name across it and sticking it to his jacket. Richie retrieved their drinks, handing a glass of wine to Eddie.

“Come on, Eds. You’ve gotta put yourself out there. You’re so hot all the babes will be going for you,” Eddie glared at him over his glass of wine, “alright, all the studs will be going for you.”

Eddie sighed but didn’t push the matter any further. He had doubts and it was all because his heart belonged to the man in the bad suit next to him, currently chugging his beer. His heart also refused to accept nothing was going to happen with Richie and subsequently didn’t allow Eddie to move on. So when Richie had suggested speed dating, he’d agreed. He had to at least make an attempt at trying to date other people.

The session began shortly after and Richie left Eddie with an encouraging wink, heading towards a small table. Eddie swallowed his nerves and sat at the nearest table, swigging more of his wine. His first date was a woman which probably shouldn’t have relieved him as much as it did. Eddie found it much easier to have a conversation when there was absolutely no attraction. Her name was Jenny, an IT consultant and mom-of-two. She was ready to give Eddie her number before the two minutes were up; he immediately felt bad for not mentioning he was gay right off the bat. She was pleasant enough, wishing him luck before leaving.

In between meeting people, Eddie stole glances across the room at his lanky friend. He was always over time, engrossed in conversation or laughing at something. Of course Richie was having better luck. Eddie's attention was then drawn to Ryan, a twenty-something barista and part-time influencer. He was cute but far too young for Eddie.

“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” Ryan smiled, shaking his hand once the two minutes were up. He made to stand, pausing as something crossed his mind, “oh, pro tip: stay away from that guy,” he gestured at Richie’s table, a sympathetic look on his face, “poor guy’s clearly not over his ex.”

Eddie frowned, confused. Richie hadn’t been in a proper relationship for ages, claiming he was too busy focusing on his tour. If he had, he hadn’t told Eddie about it. He was still watching Richie chatting to a giggly woman as he asked, “what do you mean?”

Ryan was standing now, waving a hand in exasperation, “he’s got it bad for some guy he lives with. Wouldn’t shut up about him. So, you know, don’t waste your time.”

Eddie nodded slowly, despite Ryan having already left for the next table. He didn’t even acknowledge the next person to sit in front of him, he was too busy staring at Richie. He was doing most of the talking, his hands joining in the conversation animatedly. His date didn’t look at all impressed, which just annoyed Eddie. Richie was a catch, why couldn’t they see it? He didn’t want them to see it but there was no denying Richie was funny and charming and cute. Before he really knew what he was doing, Eddie was on his feet and crossing the room. The two minute timer sounded as he reached Richie’s table.

“It was nice to meet you,” Eddie heard Richie’s date say politely, already pushing her bag onto her shoulder, “I hope it works out with that guy.”

Richie gave her a grateful smile as she departed, spotting Eddie almost at the same time. Immediately, his cheeks flushed and he ruffled his hair awkwardly, “hey, Eds. Err, you doing okay? Any digits?”

Instead of replying directly, Eddie sat in the chair opposite Richie before anyone else could. The comedian’s eyebrows shot up but he didn’t say anything, watching Eddie curiously. The shorter man was clearly anxious, judging by the way he continuously rubbed his palms over his jeans. Richie was about to reach for the spare inhaler he kept inside his jacket pocket when Eddie finally spoke, extending his hand.

“I’m Eddie,” Richie stared at his hand, wondering if Eddie was having some king of stress induced stroke. He took his hand, shaking it once, “I’m divorced. No children. I’m a risk analyst. I’m gay and really bad at it apparently,” this made Richie smile and Eddie relaxed, meeting Richie’s gaze, “I’ve been living with one of my best friends for a few months. And I’ve realised I’m in love with him.”

If it wasn’t such a big deal, Eddie would have laughed at the look on Richie’s face. His mouth had dropped open and he just stared in shock, the two of them ignoring the timer blaring in the background. No one seemed to mind and were happy to circulate, spending time with different people since it was clear neither Richie nor Eddie was moving anytime soon. Eventually, Richie closed his mouth, swallowing heavily.

“Errm, h-how does you friend feel about you?”

Eddie wanted to shout that he didn’t fucking know, he was he supposed to know what was going on in Richie’s head. Instead, he shrugged and glanced around the room, “well he brought me here so...”

"Only because he thought taking you out and seeing you date other people would help him move on,” Richie said quickly, leaning halfway across the table so he had Eddie’s full attention, “he should have told you but he thought there was absolutely no way you liked him back.”

“Can we talk like normal fucking people now, please?” Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling to keep up. Richie chuckled, nodding happily as he reached across the table and held Eddie’s hand, “I love you, you know.”

“So you ditching your hot roommate for me?” Richie smirked, dodging the kick Eddie directed at him under the table. He responded by leaning further over the table and kissing Eddie, hands gently cupping his face. Several people clapped politely and Richie pulled away, grinning, “told you speed dating was great, Spaghetti.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but, as he and Richie walked back to their apartment hand in hand, Richie’s large jacket draped around his shoulders, he had a hard time disagreeing with him.

[numptypylon]

Drawn Out, 4th: Spray Paint

It was Rayla’s 10th birthday tomorrow, and she broke her skateboard… somehow, last week. She was lucky that was all she broke, really.

It hadn’t been a very good skateboard, to be fair. Rayla had bought it from some kid at school for 3 dollars and a juicebox, because Runaan and Ethari did not have enough trust in her self-preservation skills to get her one, a sentiment Callum did understand, but Rayla would just buy another poopy secondhand one if no one else did.

And he had a better one, his great-uncle had given him for his birthday two weeks ago, because he had offhandedly mentioned meeting Rayla at the skate park, one time.

He had never used it, nor would he, because he fell over his own feet just walking, never mind trying to balance on some wobbly thing moving on its own beneath you. And it was technically an expensive gift, except it didn’t feel right, giving her something he hadn’t gotten for her but just had lying around. It wasn’t for her, it was meant for him or… not really that either, it was some ‘that’s what kids like, right?’ kinda present from someone who didn’t know him very well.

It had some kinda generic orange graffiti on it Rayla wouldn’t like. Rayla would want her dream skateboard to look like it belonged to a badass assassin, he knew, because she had told him exactly that. This skateboard looked like it belonged to a guy named Bob or Peter, who was definitely not an assassin, but possibly an accountant riding his skateboard on the way to the store to buy milk, because according to the school books, that’s how guys named Peter spent their time.

Maybe he could change that, though? He obviously couldn’t make her a skateboard, but maybe he could make this one hers.

First, the clothes’ wire he had used to drag Ez and Bait around the living room had to go.

Ez would understand. He had claimed Rayla as his much-cooler-than-Callum big sister ages ago, had started greeting her with toddler-tackle-hugs from around the third time she had come over after school, and had never stopped.

The skate park was just around the corner, and he was allowed to go there on his own, so he did. His step-dad was working, anyway, and Ez was busy pretending Bait was a magical color-changing toad with berry-scented burps. That last part was a real feat of imagination. Nothing that grumpy little pug expelled was berry-scented or anything close.

Callum was in luck, because Crowmaster was at the skate park, and he was the nicest of all the 9th graders. He had let him and Rayla pet his little grey finch named ‘Crow’ for some reason, and shown Callum all his paint cans and told him the names of all the colors he hadn’t known.

“Crowmaster?” Callum asked, walking up to him.

Crowmaster painted skateboards with skulls and creepy dead roses and things, he knew. Really more Claudia’s thing than Rayla’s, but maybe he would let him use his paints? He didn’t think his watercolors would stick.

“You called me Crowmaster!” Crowmaster looked like he might cry.

“Uh, yeah? You said that was your name?”

“It is!” Crowmaster said eagerly. “It is.”

“You’re lucky. It’s a really cool name. I like birds and flying. My name is just Callum though. I don’t think it means anything except… Soren says it means ‘dork alert’.”

“Your name means ‘sky’, or almost, anyway. That’s pretty cool. I write poetry in Latin, that’s how I know.”

Wow, Crowmaster was so cool.

And he helped him unscrew the wheels from Rayla’s skateboard-to-be, which Callum hadn’t known you were supposed to do, and he let him use his tape and spray-paint without even taking the 2 dollars he had brought.

It was a pretty cool assassin skateboard, at the end, Callum thought. Even Crowmaster thought so, even though he thought skulls would have fit better than the lines and gradients Callum made. Assassins couldn’t just advertise that they were assassins though, that wouldn’t make any sense. It had to be subtler than skulls, for sure.

Yeah, it was nice. The more he looked at it, the more he liked it, which was good, because Rayla always looked at his drawings for a really long time.

“Is Crow named after the movie?” Oh, that was Rayla. Callum quickly jumped in front of the disassembled skateboard, the varnish still drying.

But she was petting Crow, and not paying too much attention.

“No,” Crowmaster said nervously. Rayla was a bit straightforward for his temperament, Callum thought. “After the bird. It’s a good movie though, I have the VHS. You seen it?” He looked a bit dubious, at that. Rayla was wearing one of her sparklier Sailor Moon t-shirts today, you could be forgiven for thinking she wasn’t an aspiring assassin.

She was though, just a very nice and flamboyant assassin who wouldn’t kill anyone, just be really good at it if she was so inclined. Which she was not. So no skulls, Callum was sure. Crowmaster didn’t have any sparkly paint because it didn’t really go with his aesthetic, or Callum would have used it.

“I’m not allowed to see it,” Rayla grumbled. Wow, it had to be really violent then, because as strict as Runaan was in many ways, he did not do much in the way of restricting the movies Rayla was allowed to watch. She knew more about garroting than any almost-10-year-old should, according to his step-dad. His aunt approved of her garroting knowledge, at least. “It ended Bruce Lee’s legacy,” Rayla continued. “…and I’m not even allowed to watch it, just unfair-”

She cut off, looking over at Callum, smiling very sweetly for an assassin, but normally, for a Rayla.

“You look happy,” she grinned. “Enjoying the last day we’re both 9? You know, tomorrow, I’ll leave you behind, alone in the sad, sad single digits for almost a whole year.”

…she would.

He hadn’t thought of her birthday like that.

She was already way taller than him, and wasn’t afraid to go down the halfpipe or do presentations in class and… And… people would notice how cool she was and invite her to parties and on dates and whatever 10-year-olds did and-

“Pffft, not like that, dummy!” she laughed. “Ages are dumb, like the dumb ‘17’ on the back of the cover of ‘The Crow’ and-” She cocked her head at him, smiling very sweetly for an assassin, but normally, for a Rayla. “And you’re here… right? And I’m not going anywhere, I can be really immature, Runaan says so himself.”

Yeah… yeah.

When Rayla would inevitably borrow Crowmaster’s VHS and traumatize herself and need two hours of Pingu before she could sleep… yeah, he’d be there. With her.

———

Third installment of the tumblr illustrated drabble series, Drawn Out, following Callum’s drawings for Rayla in various mediums through grades 2nd through 7th. It’s set in the rayllum 90s grade school AU verse In the Middle which you can read more of on Ao3

[babbushka]

Impatient

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

1.8k ; NSFW yeehaw

It’s dark, the roads empty. Not a single car stretching for miles on end, no headlights in either direction.

It’s dark, and it’s raining, the blur of golden streetlamps cut through with the sleet of rain zipping past the windows. You’re leaving a party, the two of you, you and Flip. Leaving a party at a friend’s place that had gone on long into the night, had gone on so long that the both of you were glad when it was finally over, glad to be able to go back home.

It’s dark, and the radio is softly playing, some oldies station that’s crackling in and out of service because you’re getting into no-wheres-land territory, getting far out into the country on your way home, on your way away from the hustle and bustle of the city, of the suburbs.

You hadn’t been able to take your eyes off of one another, during the party. You never can, not really. You’re drawn to one another, always have been, always will be. Two halves of the same coin, someone once joked, two sides of the same star.

He just…he just looked so fucking good, the way he sat on the couch with you on his knee, looked so good the way he sipped his beer and smoked his cigarette, looked so fucking good the way he mimed and charaded his way to victory. And you could tell he was thinking the same about you, could tell it was taking all the strength he had to not jump you in front of everyone, with the way he was staring.

But now, now that you’re on the way home, you’ve made a decision. You want him, and with another cursory glance at the empty roads, you detangle your hand from where it’s been holding his the whole time.

“You okay?” Flip asks, sparing a glance away from the road to feast his eyes on your face as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

You give him a knowing smile, eyes sparkling as you pull your hair back, twist it into something resembling a ponytail, shifting in your seat to face him instead of sitting properly. You can see the moment when his brain catches up to what you’re doing, and when you twist your body around to bend over onto his lap, you feel wicked when you tell him to, “Keep driving.”

His foot nearly slips off the gas pedal when your warm fingers deftly undo the button of his jeans, and he keeps looking back and forth between the street beyond and your head as it nuzzles into his crotch. Sometimes you wonder how the fuck you were expected to be productive, how you were supposed to get anything done, when your husband had a dick like this.

Even through the denim of his jeans, it’s hard, a rigid line sticking up, stretching the fabric. You mouth at the jeans there, wet them with your tongue, soak right through it, through his underwear. You can smell how horny he is for you, how horny he has been all night.

“Ketsl are you sure – ” His throat runs dry before his mouth completely waters, has to swallow and swallow again, thinking about the way you’ll swallow his cock, his come. He has to steel himself against the wheel, has to shut his eyes, pinch them closed for just a second, because he’s already so fucking far gone for you that it almost overwhelms him.

“Eyes on the road, cowboy.” You pull out his dick, hard and leaking, throbbing in your hand, and give it an experimental squeeze, a tug, a nice good stroke as you lick from the very base all the way up to the head.

“Oh, holy shit.” Flip smacks his head against the leather headrest, thuds it like he’s angry, like he does sometimes when his road rage acts up, when there’s traffic on the roads.

There’s no traffic here, not anything, no one to see his white-knuckle grip as you suck his cock down your throat, as you flatten your tongue and take him all the way down. If there were a better angle, he’d be able to see it stretch out your neck, he’d be able to see the bulge of it as you deep-throat him. He’s almost glad he can’t see it, because if he did, he’d come on the spot.

“(Y/N), ketsl, honey, baby – ” He’s frustrated, wants to fuck up into you, but he can’t compromise his feet on the pedals, can’t go moving around too much and it’s driving him crazy.

He groans, and suddenly you feel a tight fist in your hair, balling up your locks right at the base of your skull and forcing you down deeper. You gag, and he gives you an apologetic smile when you pull yourself off his cock, spit stringing all down your chin.

“Both hands on the wheel.” You wipe your face with the back of your hand, kiss his cheek, and settle back down.

You alternate between flat laps of your tongue and hollowed-cheeked sucks. The rain hits hard on the windshield, but you make him moan louder, make the leather of the steering wheel creak under the strength of his hands. He’s got such good hands, you think randomly, as you swirl your tongue around just the head of his dick, teasing the ridge of it.

“You’re gonna make me fucking crash.” He grunts, his hips desperately wanting to buck up.

“No I won’t, you’re a good driver.” You make him moan as you make out with his cock, as your tongue and lips rub all over the hot hard flesh of his shaft, as you swallow him back down.

“Your mouth,” He sounds like he could cry, sounds like he’s getting choked up in between his gasps, “Fuck, your mouth is so hot, you’re perfect.”

When you need to breathe again, you pull off of him, take in big gulps that make you dizzy as you look up at him through sweat-sticky lashes, as you lick the taste of his pre-come off your lips, your chin, your cheek. He can’t help but stare at you, can’t help but want to caress your cheek, but he’d sooner chop his hands off than remove them from where you’ve told him to place them.

He’s good for you, loves being good for you, loves the praise you give him when he does what he’s told. He’s all yours, completely and totally, he wants to be good for you. Especially when you’re so perfect, when you’re all his too, when he’s so fucking lucky that he gets to fuck you, gets to have you suck his cock.

“I love your big dick,” You purr, seemingly reading his mind, stroking him with your hand steadily. You can see his thighs tensing, can see his lower stomach fluttering, and it fills you with such pride that even after all this time together, the two of you are still so hungry for one another. “Big dick just for me. I saw it straining in your jeans when we were leaving, saw how hard you were.”

“I’m – (Y/N)! – I’m always hard for you.” He huffs and puffs, wanting to rail you hard, wanting to give as good as he was getting, because fuck, what he was getting was so good. He bites at his lips, wants to kiss you, wants to touch you, “I always want you.”

“I know, greedy.” You tease, your hand speeding up just a little as you ask, “Do you like this? Like getting blown in the car by your whore?”

With that, you duck your head back down, not giving him really any time at all to respond before you’re sucking his dick like your life depended on it, like you’d die without it, like he’d rip apart at the seams, the only thing keeping him together being your lips stretched around him.

“God damn it – honey.” He’s all over the place, biting at his lips, hands flexing and tensing on the steering wheel, thighs trembling, hips twitching, “I’m gonna, I’m – ”

You hum around him, not wanting to stop, not wanting him to stop – and he comes. It’s so hot when it hits the back of your throat, hot and thick. He always had such a big load, you think absentmindedly, as you swallow him down so you don’t choke. He moans low and deep above you, disobeying for only a minute to pet your hair back as you still work his cock, as you make sure to catch every little drop on your tongue.

You eventually pull off of him, watch as his cock bobs back against his stomach, still hard. You smiled, so pleased, so smug, at the ability to get him and keep him hard. You knew you were in for such a good pounding tonight, knew that the second you got home he’d be on you, he’d be bending you over any and every flat surface in the house.

Your stomach swoops suddenly though, as the car begins to slow down. Flip looks angry, looks hungry, looks desperate, and you frown, wondering why he wouldn’t be speeding home, flying down the empty road.

“Why are we stopping?” You ask, sitting up so you don’t get dizzy from the change in momentum.

He pulls the car over completely, off the road and onto the shoulder, and the moment he puts the thing in park he’s got his hands all over you, is maneuvering you to lay down, spreading your legs.

He shoves your panties aside and for the first time all evening, you really pay attention to how soaking wet you are, how your pussy is fluttering, clenching around nothing, wanting to be touched, to be filled, to be anything.

And when he shoves the scrap of fabric to the side, and when he sees just how soaked through you are, he sticks his fingers in your mouth to collect his come off your tongue, uses his come and your spit to smear his fingers against your pussy, uses it to lube up the digits as they wriggle their way inside of you.

“You didn’t think I wasn’t going to return the fuckin’ favor, did you?” He asks, lowering his mouth to your clit and sucking hard, making you gasp out a big laugh.

Because after all of that, all the teasing, all the playing and the staring and the sucking and the coming – who could blame your man for being so impatient?

-----------

Taggin some palz <3  @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @solotriplets   @fullofbees @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler  @ladygrey03 @venusianmaiden marvelous-blog-221 @edwardseyelashes @softcrybabykid @tinyplanet-explorers @riseofkylo @mandowhoreian @ah-callie​

[reddrobins]

curiosity killed the cat and perfection killed the bat

tim drake x reader

summary: you were the batgirl to Tim’s robin. his everything, that is until you started to deteriorate away.

warnings: depiction of eating disorders, angst, hurt/comfort

You hadn’t always been a perfectionist. Really, if anything that was a new trait. But of course, all new things become old and all good things must come to an end, and you were the best thing in Tim’s life.

Bruce had taken you in under circumstances like any other of his children. Small child, carrying absurd amounts of trauma on their back. He saw potential in you the minute he laid eyes on your scared shaken form back in Crime Alley.

You were quickly welcomed into the family and not long after made friends with Bruce’s newest son, Tim.

You and Tim were inseparable the moment you met. Bruce could tell there was a bond like no other between the pair and would never dare to break the two of you up. So when Stephanie decided to go solo, the role of batgirl was open and Bruce saw no other option than you to be Tim’s new crime fighting partner.

You were thrilled. I mean what average child gets to go ham on criminals nightly and punch out their aggression? Though you knew batgirl was a more strategic role within the duo, you still couldn’t have been more excited to be a part of the team.

However, that joy didn’t seem to last too long.

Your first week as batgirl you decided to watch some footage of old fights on the batcomputer. It was videos of when Barbara and Dick were batgirl and robin and boy, were you blown out of the water.

You were drawn to Babs. Her moves, her brain… Her body. Everything just seemed so superior to you. You started to feel inferior, to feel like you weren’t good enough, like you didn’t deserve the mantle. It was basic comparison at its finest, however when you add comparison on top of years of trauma, it shifts into something different. Something more sinister.

Tim was the first one to notice your mood shift. Of course he was, the teen was your partner both in life and at ‘work’. The first signs he noticed was your increase in irritation and newly adapted short temper. The most prominent example being the one fateful night on patrol.

“Batgirl, do you have the location of the drug circle?” Tim asked as he scoped out the area from atop the WE building.

“Yes, it should be right under the pier. A small ship where they’re beginning to load up cargo for a trade.” You responded as you grappled from building to building - catching up to Tim.

“Okay. Here’s the plan, I’ll go in first, quietly. Then you can swoop down and take out the two thugs by the boa-”

You interrupted him, “Why are you going in first?”

Tim furrowed his eyebrows behind his domino mask. “I- I just thought you would’ve wanted to do some recon before we go in fighting…”

You crossed your arms, “do you think I can’t handle it myself?”

Red Robin was at a loss for words, beyond confused. You were a partnership, were was this sudden burst of irritation coming from?

“What? No, (Y/N) - I mean batgirl of course not. Why would you even think that?”

Rolling your eyes you sneered, “You just always calls the shots Tim. I’m starting to think you don’t think I’m capable enough.”

He was taken aback by the accusation, you were never normally like this. “That’s not that at all. No way, I think you’re more than capable, I just… I just thought that’s what you’d want?”

“Sure Tim.” You glared at him, “if you think you can pull this off on your own, then why don’t you get on with it. I won’t interrupt your work anymore.”

And with that you left, grappling away from Tim and back home to the Manor. The raven haired teen was left astounded. What the hell had just happened? Did you really just sacrifice the mission for what, a mild argument? He’d definitely be talking to you about this later.

The second sign he noticed of your change in personality was your avoidance of dinner. Or all meals for that matter.

“(N/N)! Alfred’s calling us for dinner! You want to come down?” Tim hollered from the stairs.

You however were busy in your room, music up to a volume that drowned out Tim.

Downstairs, the teen groaned and clambered up to your room knocking once before entering.

There you were, on the floor doing crunches, eyes squeezed shut due to over exhaustion. “(N/N)” he called again, this time from the doorway.

You sat up and pressed pause on the speakers, facing Tim. “Oh. Hey, what’s up?”

“Um, Alfred made dinner and wanted me to come bring you down… am I interrupting something?“ 

 “What? Oh that, no. It was nothing. Just some pretraining workouts before patrol tonight.” You laughed, looking off into the left. 

 Though Tim was a great detective, it didn’t take skill to know that you were lying. However, he let it go. “Okay… so, you coming down?” 

 You bit your lip in contemplation and then finally shook your head. “Uh, I had a big lunch and am still not really hungry. So please tell Alfred I’m really sorry and I know whatever he made was wonderful.” You lied, hoping he would let the conversation go.

Luckily, he did. 

“Sure. Just please come down if you get hungry. With all of the extra training you’re doing you need to make sure you’re staying nourished.”

You quirked your head at his response, “extra training I’m doing?” 

 Tim sighed and ran a hand down his face, “Do you really think I don’t hear you sneaking down to the batcave every night? The floorboards are old you know.”

 Not knowing what else to do, you put up your walls. “What are you spying on me or something? The fuck Drake, I thought we were a team?” 

 Tim faltered at your response, not knowing what provoked this outburst, “What? No. Of course not. I just care about you okay?” 

 The teen walked over to you and lifted his hand, bringing it up to caress your cheek. However before he could make contact, you pulled away instantly. Hurst flared in Tim’s eyes. 

 He sighed, “Okay. Well I’m going back down, feel free to come down if you need anything.” Walking to the door, Tim shut it behind him and waited for a few second, seeing if you would change your mind.

However all he was left to hear was floorboards creaking and pained counting as you continued your workout. 

The third thing Tim noticed was a change in your clothing style. Suddenly all of your favourite dresses, crop tops and t-shirts were swapped out for baggy hoodies and men’s jumpers. Tim swears you steal them from Jason.  

The two of you were sat on the floor of the batcave, Damian off in the distance spearing dummys with his katana. 

 “So” Tim started, “last night I was looking into our case and I found out some pretty interesting facts. The guy were looking at, his name is Gregory Jacobs and guess what, he works for Sionis. If we crack him, he could be a huge lead to whatever- what’re you doing?” 

 “Huh?” You looked up at Tim. 

 The teen pointed at your wrist which you currently had two digits wrapped around. Immediately, you unclasped your grip. 

"That?” You laughed, “That was nothing. Just something I do when I’m nervous.” Based on the inflection in your voice and your lack of eye contact, Tim could instantly tell you were lying. However, like last time, he decided to drop it. 

 “Uh, Sure… what’s your opinion on the Jacobs thing? Say we go on patrol tonight?” Tim quirked an eyebrow, obviously really intent on taking down Sionis’ men. 

“Yeah. Sure.” You said distantly. Tim was about to respond when you opened your mouth again. “Hey Timmy, you mind if I take a nap. I’m just really tired right now and want to rest up before patrol, you know?” You stood up from your spot on the floor. 

 “Um yeah. Go take a nap. I’ll catch up with you later about the case.” Tim stood up too and leaned in to kiss you on the check, only for you to once again pull away abruptly. 

You gave a weak smile and ran up the stairs from the cave, heading towards your room. 

“Somethings wrong with her, Drake.” Tim turned around to find his little brother, sheathing his katana. 

“I know. I just wish she would tell me.” The older teen sighed. 

 “Do you wish me to talk with her?” Damian asked, shocking Tim. Why all of a sudden was he being nice? 

 Tim shook his head, “No, it’s fine Damian. She’ll just get annoyed with you. I’ll just wait for her to talk.” 

 The younger Wayne nodded, “I’m only asking for her well-being, Drake. Don’t get any ideas I’m going soft on you.” 

 Tim smirked, enjoying this unusual moment with his brother, “of course not Damian, I wouldn’t expect that of you.” 

 “Good. Now I am going to go play fetch with Titus. If you decide you’d like me to talk with (Y/N), I shall be in the yard.” Damian went up the stairs leaving Tim by his lonesome. Lost and confused on how to help you get through… whatever you were going through. 

 The fourth time Tim noticed something was off was when you fainted on patrol. And man, was that the scariest night of his life.

“Red Robin to Batgirl, I’ve located Jacobs, are you in place to attack?” 

It was the night of the mission. Tim was overly stoked whereas you, well you had your mind on other things. The suit felt really tight, almost like you were too big to be in it, you’d much rather opt for your oversized hoodies. You kept thinking about the breakfast you had that morning, everything was just too much. “Yeah...” you responded.

“Good. Batman,” Tim spoke into the coms, “we’re moving in.” 

You swung your grappling gun to the nearest ledge, jumping off your current perch, and ow, why did that hurt? Your shoulder felt like it was on fire and when you landed on your feet, you felt like you broke both your ankles. 

You hissed in pain and Tim heard, “Batgirl, are you okay?” 

You nodded, “Fine, dunno why that hurt all of a sudden though...”

To say Tim was worried about this mission was an understatement. For the past few weeks, though you had been working out, you seemed to be quite frail, walking slowly, speaking with no energy - it was scaring Tim. But still, you insisted you come on the mission.

“Okay, just please be careful... I’m going in, are you behind me?”

You mumbled a ‘yes’ into the earpiece and followed your partner into the building.

Flipping down from the awning, you stumbled on your landing, luckily Red Robin was there to catch your fall. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he whispered to you.

You shrugged him off in annoyance, muttering an ‘of course I am.’

“Okay, we’re going to split up from here, I’m going to take the two guys in the back and you can handle the one by the cargo, then we’ll both go after Jacobs.”

Though you didn’t see why Tim insisted you only take down one goon, you complied with the plan and snuck over to the cases of drugs.

Quietly, you reached out behind the thug and pressed your hand to his mouth, pulling him behind the crate. You tried to use your core strength to flip and straddle his neck but to no avail, you were just too weak.

He got the better of you and wailed a punch at your temple. You stumbled slightly, blinking away the dark spots in your vision. Cursing, you charged at the man again, batarang in hand. 

You threw it at your target but alas, the force wasn’t strong enough and it clattered against the crate, limply falling to the ground.

was the room spinning or was it just you?

At this point you couldn’t even tell. Nonetheless, you tried to attack one more time, sliding onto the floor you stuck your leg out in means to trip him, but it just barely made the man sway.

He laughed, “So this is Batgirls replacement? A weak little twig like you?”

You felt a flare of anger in your chest, how dare he call you a replacement!

You let out and angry growl and with all of your might pounced at him, tackling the large man to the ground. 

He laughed again, and easily threw your body off of him, leaving you to crash into a wooden crate.

You laid on the floor staring up at the ceiling, was the ceiling always that high up? Where are those dots coming from?

Weakly, you tried to sit up, ignoring the heaviness of your head, at least that was until you passed out.

When you came to, you realized you were in fact, tied to a chair, however not by yourself. Tim was tied behind you on his own chair.

“Timmy?” you mumbled.

The teens ears perked up, “(Y/N)? Oh thank god, you scared me so bad.”

“Tim, what happened? Why are we tied up?”

He sighed in response and craned his neck to look at you, “After you fainted, the third thug came at me. There was just too many of them for me to handle while thinking about if you were dead. God, (Y/N), you scared me so bad. Please don’t do that again.”

“It’s not like I chose to faint, Tim.” You sneered, upset that he was putting the blame on you.

“Well you are the one that chose not to eat. The one that chose to overwork them self. The one that didn’t ask for help when you were clearly struggling... I mean, am I wrong?”

You gulped, so he knew... 

“Tim... I-”

“(Y/N) I’m not mad at you, I just want to know, why? Why put yourself through that?” He pleaded with you.

You sighed and then out of frustration and exhaustion, let out a cry. “I had to okay?! I saw footage of Babs and saw how much prettier and skinnier and smarter and just better than me she was. I didn’t have a choice but to fix myself to live up to her legacy.”

Tim’s heart broke at your sobs, god he wish he cold take away your pain and just tell you how naturally beautiful and smart and unique and talented you are... He just didn’t know how.

“(Y/N)... you didn’t have to do any of that. You, you’re amazing just the way you are. And, and I know I wont be able to change your mind but, but... I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you. I never wanted you to be any more than you already were because in my eyes you’re amazing. You’re my (Y/N) and I wouldn’t ask for any different.”

You gasped, I mean you knew there was something between you and Tim, but love? He loved you? You cried again, overwhelmed. “Tim, I love you too. I just thought I had to be better, to prove myself to you all, to show that I actually deserved the title of Batgirl.”

“Oh love, if you want to talk to someone about deserving their title, hell talk to me. I’ve struggled with that for years. But I would never, ever tell you to do something like this. You’re so much more than a body. You’re just a beautiful soul, inside and out.”

“God Timmy, you’re such a sap... But you’re my sap. Or, is that okay?”

Tim smiled, leaning his head on your shoulder, “That more than okay.”

The two of you stayed like that for a bit until you were brought back to reality. “Hey Tim...” The teen in question gave a loving ‘hmm?’

“Um, how are we going to get out of this?”

[raniiaaa]

walk me home

A gut feeling. That was what people who trusted themselves called the inner mechanism that helps them decide what’s right. You never had an inner compass telling you what to do. Actually, no, that's inaccurate. You had a compass, but its needle flitted wildly around, drawn to multiple unknown magnetic fields, leaving you to decipher which direction it stayed on for a millisecond longer. Nonetheless, you had this flawed sense of direction, but then he walked through that door for the first time. The effect was instantaneous. He was like neodymium, resolving your case of reversed polarity. 

The swanky party had progressed under the light of a surprisingly prominent New York full moon. Tinkling clinks of champagne glasses and gentle chatter played as a secondary soundtrack to a jazz quartet. As caterer staff, you needed to blend in with whatever wall you were positioned at. The table you were unofficially assigned to was taken care of right now, which meant you may be able to sneak out for a minute to just rest. The thought of it made your head loll slightly. This had been a long night and an unusual event. The attendees were the bigwigs of New York, which is saying a lot. There was a pre-event meeting where your boss outlined all the necessary procedures, your rush plan, and the times each of you would be cut. They didn’t need staff sitting around, which meant you could get out of these shoes soon and settle into your couch with some takeout and a movie on. You were just preparing for your last stretch when he arrived. 

...

You had been wondering who the empty seat at the table was for, which was now no longer a mystery. His entrance had been through a side entrance, not the elaborate front door like all the other party guests. Everything about how he carried himself led you to believe he was trying to draw the least amount of attention to himself. It wouldn’t be possible though, no one that beautiful could ever hide effectively. The spare glance he gave you when settling down in his chair held you in place, almost like it was his own arms pinning you to the wall you were backed up against. You quickly turned your head to face another direction, heat blooming at the apples of your cheeks. Just an hour and then you’d be gone. With the arrival of this stranger, you weren’t as excited to leave. 

...

Though consciously avoiding him for the rest of your time, your attention (and interest) didn’t turn away from him. You knew who he was, how could you not. The solemn eyes were more of a giveaway than the metal arm should have been, but there was so much about James Buchannan Barnes for you to notice. He was quiet, sipping on a glass of water and observing all the others. You had been wrong, this man could hide in a desert. 

You remained hyper-aware of him. 

It was your job to be attentive, you told yourself, that the business guests bring helps pay your salary. Yet there was no reason for you to observe the subtle way he leaned back in his chair, like putting space between him and others. Or the length of his lush eyelashes, how they frame that icy gaze. Said gaze flitted over you now, as you filled the glasses at his abandoned table. The glass in front of him was next, empty enough to require your attention. “Would you like some water sir?” your tone is cordial and removed, like a digital assistant’s pre recorded dialogue. He shakes his head, swirling the water in his glass carefully. You move to leave, but his voice stops you. “Why did you fill those other glasses?” his tone lacks any animosity, but you feel embarrassed nonetheless. You gape a little, prompting him to look away from the whirlpool in his glass and to you. His direct attention does not help with your answer at all. “It’s policy,” you say, an appeasing smile on your face. You want to tell him that you thought it was stupid too, even talked to your manager about it being a waste. Then one party guest complained about an empty water glass after coming back from the dance floor and you were back to seeing ridiculous amounts of water wasted. You couldn’t say any of this, though. Could you? Maybe, but you wanted this night to be a textbook one. You extracted yourself from the table, but there was a pull to stay. You defied it and left. 

 ...

He was here again, for another soiree with the rich and famous. You couldn’t tamp down the little flutter of excitement in your chest at the sight of him, chastising yourself for it immediately after. Adjusting your uniform ever so slightly, you set off to work another event, trying to ignore how your attention kept drawing itself to the northwest area of the lanai. 

...

The glass must have an optical illusion type design to it because there was much more bourbon in it than you thought. Or maybe you felt that way since it was running down your chest at the moment. The drunk party guest was nice at least, offering up an enthusiastic apology, swatting you with a tissue. Trying to extract their fondling hands graciously, you excused yourself and left.

 You rush to get a spare shirt from your locker and then go to the staff bathroom. The door was locked. Fuck, you need to get out of this shirt fast. Trying the guest bathrooms, you were actually thankful for the locked doors. Guessing from the noises coming through from the other side, the risqué situation wasn’t one you’d want to interrupt. That left one choice. 

...

Your hands fumbled, trying to extract yourself from your sodden prison. Stripping in a dark alleyway wasn’t something you expected to do tonight. Just when the fabric slipped from your shoulders, you heard a cough. Fuck.

You spun around to see. 

It was him. 

Double fuck. 

Your hands went to cover yourself. “I’m sorry.” you both say at the same time. He averts his eyes while you hurriedly pat yourself dry and put your shirt back on. “I wouldn’t have been here if I’d known it was the changing room.” he has a nervous smile on his face. The belated realization that he made a joke jolts you out of your frozen state. You sound a genuine laugh but it comes out strangled. Now it’s your turn to say something and you fall back on your previously assigned social roles. “Why are you back here Sir? We have a smoking room upstairs if you need a space for that,” you said, smoothing out the front of your uniform. Your hands slow as he stays silent, just looking at you. Are you imagining the way his eyes rove over your frame? Surely you must be. He looks up, sees how you’ve stilled and straightens up a bit. Shaking his head a bit, he nervously motions his hands in your general direction. “I’m sorry, it’s just that-” he pauses again, and you watch him with bated breath. “Your uniform isn’t on right.” Oh. 

Now you’re looking down at yourself in a frenzy, trying to right whatever mistake you made. He seems to take pity on you after a few minutes of not having located what it is. “I can,” he clears his throat, trying to rid it of the anxious growl it held, “Can I help you?” 

Your hands fall to your sides, a brief nod is all you can manage. He steps forward on the balls of his toes, like he anticipates you’ll run. The problem was in your collar, the back folded awkwardly within itself. You try not to think about how close he now is to you, enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him. Here you are, observing him again. Except you notice everything you couldn’t see from a distance. There’s a slight stubble across his chin and his eyelashes curl more than you thought. 

His nimble fingers fix it quickly, withdrawing from their previous position quickly. This action causes his hands to graze your neck. The sensitive skin there reacts, sending electric shocks all throughout your body and you jolt back. His reaction follows within the next few seconds. Before you can say anything, he’s already disappeared through a back door of some kind, into the sights and sounds of the crowd. 

...

You should have known not to carpool with Jack tonight. Unfortunately, he was the only one on the crew tonight who lived in your general vicinity. Also unfortunately, he got a salacious call from his girlfriend. Before you could even comprehend his words, you were dumped on the sidewalk. 

The night wasn’t ready to be over, it seemed. 

Following the bright blue line of the GPS on your phone, you began the trek to your home. Chilly air bit at your ears and you wished something warmer was between you and the elements. Hugging the thin jacket to yourself, your attention was tunnel visioned to the path directly in front of you. ‘Right, left. right, left’ you repeated, hoping this rhythm would get you through the 45 minute walk that lay ahead of you. Having just acclimated to your situation, something collided with you. Pushed to the ground, your heart didn’t have time to race before you were pulled upright again. The arms steadying you felt … familiar? Lo and behold, James Buchannan Barnes was before you, equally shocked to see your face. “Hello,” you said, rushing to get the words out before you lost the courage. Seeing him in the glitter of high profile parties while you worked was one thing, but running into a person of his stature out in the regular world was another thing. The suit he had been wearing a few hours before was now semi deconstructed. The top two buttons were undone, giving you just a hint of the skin beneath. His tie lay around his neck, the jacket (which you were sure was too expensive to be) slung behind his shoulder, hanging precariously from one finger. You tried not to stare at his forearms, exposed by how he rolled up his sleeves. You just ended up staring at his face then, which really wasn’t a good idea if not getting flustered was your goal. His eyes were now squarely on you, the heat your body was so deprived of earlier now beginning to grow in your chest. “I hadn’t been able to say this earlier, but thank you,” you began, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze. “I would have probably been stuck with my arms over my head trying to get out of that shirt if you hadn’t helped me. If I ever need to change again, I’ll call you.” What the fuck? It’s ok, you can ride it out if you don’t start rambling. 

There was silence for a few minutes, so obviously you started to ramble. 

“Not that I can’t take my clothes off myself, just that you might be better at it.” Bad. “Not that I want for you to take my clothes off,” that’s a lie, you do, “I mean that it’s definitely not your responsibility, that's what I meant you know. And that definitely doesn’t happen usually, it’s just cause the shirt was wet. But yeah, it’s my responsibility. And I’m sure you have much more important things to do…” Oh god.

“No problem.” he said, his voice just barely at an octave the human ear could comprehend. The previous silence fell back onto you both, your embarrassed gaze affixed on the ground. Decorum be damned, you were just going to turn around and start running away. While contemplating this, you felt something heavy rest itself around your shoulders. Lifting a hand to touch it, you felt silky fabric overlaid by wool. Looking up, you saw how close he was to you now, arms encasing your sides while laying the jacket onto you. After adjusting it to make sure it didn’t slip, he drew his arms back, slipping his hands into his pockets. His scent, which had intoxicated you the entire night, pervaded your senses. By reflex, you snuggled into fabric before realizing how it may look. “You were shivering.” he said.

 “I wasn’t planning on walking home tonight, so I didn’t layer up right,” you said after a brief pause. The tilt of his head prompted you to recount your night’s woes. After regaling him, his demeanor shifted. “ If you would allow me,” he said, “I would like to walk you home.” 

You tried not to look too shocked. Your night was veering into fiction. Then the truth of your situation hit you. New York at night was not kind to anyone, you had to have some kind of protection. What was better for the job than a fucking Avenger?! The words were caught in your throat for a few seconds, but you eventually managed to speak, “Yes I, uh, thank you. That would be - that would be great.” For the next few seconds, you both just stood. “Oh, right,” you had forgotten he didn’t know what direction to go. Neither did you, really, but google maps said northwards so that’s where you continued to go. 

Silence was right there beside you two, in the middle. You didn’t know how to cross that gorge, or if you even should. Then you remembered. 

“I tried to change the policy,” you said, before you could stop and consider your words. His steps faltered for only a second till returning to normal. That was too vague a statement, what were you thinking? “The water glasses, I mean.” He now paused for more than a second. “You remembered that?” he sounded puzzled. You couldn’t understand why he thought you wouldn’t. Did he really not know how memorable he was? “Of course, I had a lot more to say that I couldn’t get into.” He gave only a nod and you thought it was the end. “Why?” he said, clearing his throat as if to get the words out. “Why couldn’t you get into it?” 

You considered this, but eventually just shrugged. “I guess I’m quiet when working.” 

Silence threatened to fall back into place so you asked, “Do you like them? The parties?” 

It had always been something you were curious about, seeing as he had never participated in the fanfare and festivities of the numerous parties he attended. Not all of them were galas and fundraisers, some were your regular end of the week party for people rich enough to rent the building regularly. He would drift in with a few people (sometimes the faces you saw on billboards after they saved the city and sometimes others), stay with them for a little before they went to the dancefloor and he stayed at the table. Sometimes, he would get prompted to the dancefloor or into conversation with a beautiful woman. Still, there seemed to be a string drawing and holding him to the table. 

He remained quiet for a while, weighing his words like he was trying to find the right number of kilos to match his budget. When he spoke, you were shocked to hear how solemn it sounded

“I’m trying to find someone.” The longing was apparent in his voice. You had the distinct feeling that you were currently privy to something few people had ever even caught a glimpse of. You didn’t say anything, hoping to allow him the space he needed if any other words came out of hiding. 

He struggled with the following ones that did, “Before it all happened,” it was obvious what it all was, “I loved parties.” Clearing his throat, he probed further. “Seeing people and being seen, meeting others for the first time despite having been introduced last week, letting a few hours escape from a dull week.” He paused again, clearly struggling. There was something akin to wistfulness in his eyes, made glassy by past memories. “I’m trying to see if I can love them again, I guess.” He sighed and you tried not to pay too much attention to its musical quality, “It doesn’t seem to be coming back.” 

“Maybe that’s ok.” You don’t know if that’s the right thing to say. However, the pain he felt was so apparent in his words and you just wanted to alleviate it in any way possible. “Even if you don’t like parties now, are there new things you like?” you said. He paused to consider this. “I guess I read more.” he said with a slight chuckle. You grabbed the chance, “What books have you been reading?”

...

Along the way, your task to cheer him up dissolved and all that was left was a deep desire to get to know him better. You don’t know what prompted you to do it, whether insanity or pure genius, but you asked if he wanted to join your book club. 

To your surprise, he asked when the next meeting was.  

Your apartment building reared into view as you told him. With a nod, he escorted you to the wire gates leading to the central courtyard. “Oh, here.” you tried to shrug off his jacket, but his hands landed on your shoulders to stop you. “Keep it for now. You can return it during the next book club meeting.” Your shock at his acceptance of your invitation dissipated after seeing the mischievous smile on his face. “You don’t even know where it is.” you said, with mock exasperation. A sly smile lifting the corners of your mouth, you took out the pen from tonight’s shift. “Arm?” You said, motioning the drawing of the pen as you said it. He brought up the right one. The feel of his skin on yours was intoxicating and you tried to ignore the tension hanging in the air as you began to gently write the digits of your phone number. “Text me with this number and I’ll add you to our group chat,”. You both looked at each other, his arm still in your grasp long after you had finished. “I really hope to see you,” you said, before letting his arm drop and going inside. 

You, unfortunately, didn’t get to see the shy smile he walked with for the rest of the night.

[filthy-rat]

Since we all know Mary likes to hunt nazis for fun. How would he react if a scum like that tried to go near you? Give me the murderous protective bloody boi plz 🥺👉👈

It’s a dark and stormy night. That sounds like a cliche, because it is, but that’s what’s this night is like. Rain comes in heavy sheets all around you, soaking you to the bone, blinding you.

The only thing you can see is the glint of the knife flashing in the dark and stormy night.

Dark and stormy never bothered you, and neither did the night, really. You’ve always been drawn to the darker corners of the city, to the black underbelly of it all. That’s where the most interesting people tend to congregate.

That’s where you’d met Mary Goore.

He’d been bumming around some shitty dive bar, flirting with all the insufferably hetero dudes there, buying them the fruitiest drinks on the menu with a wink and a salacious lick of his lips. He liked to start fights that he invariably lost, and you were there to patch him up afterwards.

He flirted with you, too, a couple of times. Always pretty words and playful winks and light touches. Even though you knew better than to feed scraps to strays, he was just so damn pretty, just like his words. Even when he was bruised and covered in blood. You couldn’t stay away.

The two of you became drinking buddies, although secretly, you wish for more with him. You think maybe he does, too, but it’s hard to tell with Mary.

You spend your weekends bar hopping with him, going from shitty dives to swanky clubs to chaotic raves. Somehow he always gets inside, even when the cover charge is well in the triple digits, and you never once see him exchange money with the bouncer. He simply slides up to them, murmurs something in their ear, and that velvet rope is hastily untethered.

“C’mon, babe,” he’d say with a crooked grin, and he’d sling an arm around your shoulders and pull you through the doors.

Every time you ask just how he slithers his way into these places without fail, he gives you a different answer.

“Said I’d give him a blowjob,” he says.

“My dad’s the owner,” he says.

“Saved his life in prison,” he says.

You learn that asking questions of Mary isn’t really a game you can win, especially when he’s constantly changing the rules without notice. That doesn’t stop him from asking questions of you, of course. And he does ask questions. About your life, your preferences, your history--Mary wants to know it all. You find yourself being unexpectedly candid with your answers. Maybe it’s the way he seems to take a genuine interest in the things you say, holding your gaze while you talk.

You’ve never had someone be so sincere about you before.

Anyway, it was a dark and stormy night. The two of you are out drunkenly wandering, devouring the pulse of the city, unbothered by the heavy rain or the ominous thundering overhead. Arm in arm, you meander through the streets, shouting the lyrics to your favorite songs and telling terrible jokes in between the choruses.

“Let’s stop and get a pack of smokes,” says Mary, tugging you towards the glowing neon of a 24-hour convenience store.

“I’ll wait out here,” you say, flashing him a grin. “Rain’s nice. Hurry up.”

Mary smirks, bumps his forehead against yours a little too hard, and disentangles himself from your grasp. He leaves you leaning against the storefront, humming under your breath, and ducks inside for his cigarettes.

That’s when the trouble began.

In your stupor, you barely register the arrival of others. You and Mary had been wandering for awhile when you stopped and came across hardly anyone else. Rain tends to keep people indoors, but these guys seem to care as little as you do.

Initially, you offer the group a polite smile, but when they enter the light of the storefront and you see them fully, you realize that these four men are definitely less than friendly. Everything about them screams threat, and that’s before you noticed the red armbands many of them are wearing. Immediately, you avert your gaze, hoping they hadn’t seen you. But you’re never that lucky.

“Well, well, well! Hey there, sweet thing,” hums one as he comes to lean against the wall beside you. He’s much too close and you can smell the stench of beer on his breath. “Who left you out here, all wet and alone? C’mon, sugar, I don’t bite.”

"Fuck off,” you snap, trying to sound braver than you felt, and you retreat a few inches.

They just laugh and close the distance once more. Panic is beginning to rise now, and you’re desperately looking for an exit route.

Without warning, the head of the man closest to you is grabbed and slammed once, twice, three times against the concrete wall. With a pained grunt, your aggressor collapses to the rain-slick pavement and doesn’t move. A faint red trickle is now present on the wall where his head had been. His companions all whirl on the spot towards the source of the violence, and your heart leaps at the sight of Mary standing there, glaring down at the unmoving nazi.

There’s a terrifying, bone-chilling rage in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. As he flicks his gaze up to regard the rest of them, they all recoil in fear. Despite the evident anger boiling inside him, Mary’s voice is unnervingly calm when he speaks. Somehow, this makes him even more frightening.

“Better get the fuck outta here before something bad happens to you.“

And that’s when he pulls out the bowie knife you had no idea he even owned. It’s about the length of his forearm, and you can tell even from this distance it’s wickedly sharp. He flourishes it with a twirl of his wrist, and the edge glints, flashing like a beacon in the dark and stormy night.

Wordlessly, the group scramble to gather up their unconscious friend, and beat a hasty retreat.

“And if I ever fuckin’ see your faces around here again,” snarls Mary as they scurry away, “I’ll gut you like the fuckin’ pigs you are!”

When he’s satisfied they’re gone, he slides the knife back into the holster at the small of his back, and turns to you without coming closer. There’s an anxiety to his eyes now, even if it’s hard to see. Perhaps he thinks you’ll be afraid of him, too. Without another word, you close the distance and throw your arms around his neck.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you.” You nuzzle your face into his neck and take a deep, calming breath.

Automatically, his arms come around your back, holding you close. A relieved sigh escapes him, and he buries his face into your shoulder. After a moment, he pulls back to rest his forehead on yours, eyes gentle.

“Just glad you’re okay.”

[maple-writes]

Dissidia March 2021: Week One

Big thanks to @onmywaytobe for sharing Leo with me for this! I’m really excited to keep writing these two together :D

and thanks @dissidia-writeblr for hosting again!

the intro got kind of long but I was having a good time so it stays like this lol

###

Warren hit send on their email and quietly hoped the recipient would actually read everything this time before asking another question they shouldn’t have to answer again. At least that was the last they needed to respond to for now. They double checked though, just in case they missed anything from an order, an information request, requests for meetings, or sometimes the odd message sent to the completely wrong email address.

They reached for their near-empty travel mug and downed the last of the coffee as they crossed off email replies from the to-do list they’d drawn up first thing in the morning. Today it wasn’t as long as it could be, but would still be more than long enough to keep them busy until the end of the workday. After that… They smiled to themself as they turned back to the computer screen. The woman at the store tipped them off the other day that pears would probably be on sale today. Older style pears hadn’t been on sale in a long time especially since newer hybrids started coming out a few years ago. The new ones were sweeter, softer, and lacked that weird texture if picked too late, but there was something about the older pears. The new ones were almost too sweet, too soft. They still had some wine from last night too that might go well with it after dinner.

The click of short heels echoing down the hall brought Warren back from thinking about fruit and wine a moment before Indigo poked her head into their office. Her opalescent white hair pulled back in a low pony-tail suggested she was here to check up on the labs. When the light hit just right, the hollow, prismatic strands refracted subtle orange, blue, and even hints of green. Right, it was Wednesday, she usually came in on Wednesdays.

When she noticed Warren was in, she stepped in with a polite nod. “Any word from the Norris Lab?”

Warren smiled. “Yes, actually.” They leaned forward, pulling up the documents on their computer. “I spoke with one of their reps today, and honestly,” they sighed, one hand up and massaging the side of their head at the memory of that agonizingly long phone call, “it was like pulling teeth but I convinced her to send over their manuscripts. I’ve also set up a meeting with a member of their team for the twenty-seventh.”

“Well done Warren,” Indigo purred. She rested her hand on their desk and leaned forward as Warren turned the screen to show her the documents. The way her eyes flickered over the words and tables she seemed to know better than them whatever it was this research was about on anything more than an abstract level. “Oh that’s perfect.” She glanced down at them. “Could you send those files to me and print off a copy of each when you get the chance?”

She’d probably want an extra copy too, one for them to file away with the other hard-copy records. Warren nodded and jotted down a note for later. “Can do.” Paper records and files hadn’t been mandated for decades now but Indigo usually insisted on physically backing up important files. “Anything else?”

“Not at the moment.” She straightened up with a smile, a genuine one rather than the ones they’d seen her give at events and meetings with people she had to pretend to like. “Thanks Warren.” She started to turn, but seemed to remember something. “Actually, if you could do me a favor, I need something confidential ordered along with this week’s deliveries. I’ll send you the info by the end of the day.”

Warren made another note, nodding down at their paper pad. “I’ll see what I can do.” This wouldn’t be the first time she’d asked something off the record like this, but with her position she was bound to have some projects that weren’t ready for public attention yet.

She thanked them, left, and Warren turned back to their computer to update their to-do list. They were already planning on taking a trip down the hall for the printer for some labels so adding a couple copies of the manuscripts Indigo wanted probably wouldn’t take too much longer. As much as her insistence on physical backup copies filed away just in case was a bit of a pain sometimes, it was nothing compared to what some of their other coworkers wanted them to do. Some of the ‘great ideas’ some of them came up with were nothing more than a logistical nightmare, and some of the clerical work they had at the end of the week was usually tedious at best.

A couple of documents proofread later, Warren sent the files to the print server and got up with a stretch cracking some of the little joints in their shoulders. On the way out of their office, they plucked their lanyard with their ID and key card with an outdated photo and a little sticker label with they/them stuck to the casing, draping it around their neck as they stepped into the hall. The one time they’d decided to just stick it in their pocket it fell out and they hadn’t noticed until they found themself locked out of the building in the middle of winter, banging on the door until someone heard. Not doing that again.

They stopped at the coffee maker along the way, leaning against the counter as the single-serve pod brewed and trickled into their travel mug. It was old, the mug, paint starting to chip off around the top and bottom, but it was a gift from years ago and it still worked well enough so why replace it?

Taking a sip of their fresh coffee, Warren reached the print room. They raised their key-card to the scanner, pausing as it beeped and the light turned green. Years ago when they’d started here someone had explained why the print room was locked like this, something about some very fancy and expensive kinds of machines that they’d never had any use for in their work. They dropped their card to dangle around their neck again and opened the door.

This was not the print room.

Warren froze, wind toying with their ruby hair and tugging at the lanyard around their neck. Grasses brushed against the cuffs of their pants and white clouds drifted across the open, unimpeded sky. The air carried the fresh scent of plants and unfamiliar toiled soil. An unfamiliar city rose in the distance behind fields filled with crops and farmers and uniformed people patrolling the planted plots.

This was not the print room, not even close. Warren broke the ice holding them ridged to glance back over their shoulder, twisting to try and find the door. But there was nothing. It was gone. Nothing but more fields and more farms and more farmers and more uniformed personnel. Soldiers maybe? But what were they doing here? They frowned. Better question: what was here?

Someone standing nearby looking nearly as lost as Warren caught their eye. Dressed different from the other farmers and soldiers he probably wasn’t from around here. Although, Warren really couldn’t tell where he might have been from either. He had a very old-timey look, plain dark skin and darker hair with eyes to match. Maybe he came from some remote town in the middle of nowhere, but even then… Odd that nowhere in his ancestry there’d been anything altered to pass down. Still though, he was far more familiar than the people working around them in the farms.

Warren turned towards the stranger with a deep breath. “Hey,” they paused a heartbeat as he turned towards them, “uh, do you know what’s going on?”

The dark-hard main just shrugged and muttered something about all of this just being a weird dream.

A dream? Warren scrunched their eyebrows and took a sip of their still nearly too-hot coffee. Strange. They didn’t remember going to sleep. They woke up like usual, had breakfast like usual, got dressed like usual and as far as they knew had been at work for a couple hours already. Were their dreams really that boring? They frowned. If this were a dream then how come they could still taste? At the same time though, it wasn’t like this made any sense either.

Dream or not, this was the only vaguely familiar-looking person anywhere in this field and he looked almost as confused as they did. They turned back towards him. “I’m Warren, by the way.” It was probably only polite to tell him their name.

The mysterious stranger nodded once. “Leo.” He paused, stealing a glance, then added, “nice hair.”

Hair? He liked their hair? “Oh, thanks.” Warren flustered. “I just kind of brushed it this morning and I guess it’s working out for me today.” Okay, stop talking. They cut themselves off with a very long sip of coffee. Leo just said he liked their hair no need to ramble on and on even if nerves prickled all the way up and down their body.

The sun shone down warm on their shoulders, the air fresh with plants. If this really was a dream maybe it wouldn’t be so bad as long as they were actually asleep and not collapsed and dying on the copy room floor. They frowned. No one really went that way unless that had to, and most people in the office dealt exclusively with digital files. Hell, Warren might have been only one of a handful of people who even knew how to use some of the older model machines.

Were they… Dead?

No, no way. They’d been fine all day why would they be dead now? Leo’s idea of a dream sounded much nicer. Warren sighed and squinted against the sun, staring over the sunny fields. This time their eyes settled on one figure walking between the plots in their direction.

They glanced at Leo. “Do you think that guy’s coming for us?”

“Looks like it.”

Warren shifted from side to side on the soft grass and tightly gripped their mug as nerves built. No question now, the new stranger was headed straight for the two of them. Warren tried to look away, at anything else. They didn’t want to look like they’d noticed, didn’t want to draw his attention more than they already had.

But the stranger wasn’t swayed, stopping in front of the both of them with a bow and a smile. “You two must be so confused.” He said. “My name is Sichoris, and I work for one of the leaders of Ritania.”

He gestured to the city towering behind the farms. Ritania? Warren’s head spun. Sure it’d been a long time since they’d looked at a map or a chart or anything, but they’d sure as Hell never heard of Ritania.

Sichoris kept talking. “If you would follow me, I can explain everything along the way.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and started back the way he came. Warren hesitated, but only a moment. Standing around in a field wouldn’t get them anywhere and if Sichoris really did work for some leader maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. As false-faced and draining some of the officials they’d had to interact with every now and then were, it wasn’t like any were usually cruel towards them. At worst a little demanding with no idea how long it actually took them to do the work they wanted but not horrible.

With a deep breath Warren unstuck their legs and followed Sichoris towards the city but paused when Leo didn’t move. He still stood, staring glass-eyed up at the unfamiliar city. Was he just going to stand there? What was he waiting for?

“Hey,” Warren called, catching his attention. “Are you coming?”

Leo glanced between them and Sichoris already paces ahead, then seemed to decide following along would be the best bet. Walking just behind Warren’s shoulder, his eyes wandered, and he reacted strange as if in a dream. Which maybe that made sense, but maybe not. But it wasn’t like they had any kind of better answer up their sleeve.

Some of the farmers looked up as they passed, watching curiously before getting back to their work. Some of the soldiers—they looked like soldiers anyway—did the same. No one looked anything like what they were used to, and they couldn’t help but hunch in on themself just a little. They stood out here, especially the way the sun caught the iridescent structures in their hair, shimmering from red to faint violet and blue where the sun hit just right. As much as they weren’t a farmer either, they couldn’t begin to recognize what exactly grew in the fields, or even why they might have been using so many open air fields like this either.

Warren took another sip of coffee and stole a glance at Leo. So far the only thing they knew were his and Sichoris’ names, and at least Leo seemed to be in the same kind of disbelief as they were. He seemed trustworthy enough. Even if he didn’t seem one for talking, at least they weren’t completely alone.

[queendice98]

Chapter One: Misfits meet Mutants

Sixth grade, one of the most awkward and biggest turning points in any youth's life. Everyone is going through puberty, long-time friends are beginning to fight each other over petty things, and anyone that has problems at home feels even more helpless and lost. The last part couldn't be more true for childhood friends Maggie, Maddie, and Ash. It's hard enough that they're undergoing puberty, but on top of that their home lives are less than ideal for moody preteens.

Maggie has a decent relationship with her father; her mother, on the other hand, is another story. Her mother is not the nurturing type. Some would say that perhaps her mental health was to blame but that is certainly no excuse for the way she treats her daughter. It doesn't help Maggie's mood that her parents are always fighting, leaving the poor girl feeling alone and unstable.

Maggie sluggishly gets ready for her first day of 6th grade, not that she's really looking forward to it, she just wants to escape the shitfest she calls a house. The brunette brushes her hair and teeth before changing into a baggy black hoodie, jeans, and an old pair of tennis shoes. She swings her large backpack on and grabs whatever looks edible from the fridge before leaving her house and walking to the bus stop nearby.

Maddie had to wake up much earlier than her friends so that she had enough time to feed her two younger siblings and send them off to the bus stop. Being the responsible older sister she is, she always took care of her siblings. Her mother often chose sleeping over care of her younger children, leaving her eldest to do all the work. The young girl sighs, grabbing a Mountain Dew and a packet of Pop-Tarts before going to the bus stop. She texts Ash to see if her friend is awake yet.

The girls have known each other since kindergarten, they had gone through so much in elementary school and every experience made their bond much stronger. Maddie is happy to have a friend like her, she has no idea how she would have survived without Ash. Lord knows they'll need each other as they go through the very early stages of puberty. She climbs onto the school bus, texting Ash after sitting down.

Ash texts Maddie that she's awake and getting ready for school, trying desperately to drown out her fighting parents. The kind girl is used to hearing them fight every morning before they go to work. It's gotten to the point that she no longer needs an alarm to wake up. She stays in her room until they finally leave for work giving her a chance to grab something for breakfast. Quickly settling on a day-old seven-layer burrito from Taco Bell, she heads out the door, happy that summer is over and she's back in school.

Ash has been in a bad home for as long as she can remember, her situation only worsening when her mom met Gavin and later married him. When he came into her life, she stupidly fooled herself into thinking he was different from all her mother's other relationships. Now he's proven himself to be nothing more than an overweight, alcoholic, smoker that spends most of his time drinking and belittling her. What Ash wouldn't give to get rid of that asshole once and for all, then maybe she'll have her mom back.

All three girls have no idea that they're in for a surprise when they get to school. Maddie and Ash meet up in the cafeteria, easily spotting Maggie by her lonesome. "Hey stranger." Ash says as she and Maddie sit with the young Wiccan.

Maggie smiles at the two girls, remembering them from fifth grade and how kind they were to her. "How you girls doin'?" Maggie asks as she drinks some chocolate milk.

"Eh, kinda glad to be at school. Least I'm out of that damn house." Maddie shrugs while sipping on her Mountain Dew.

"I was at camp over the summer. It was definitely better than being at home all day." Ash adds, eating an apple.

"Sounds like y'all had fun. I was stuck at home all summer." Maggie scrolls threw her phone, absentmindedly looking at some memes.

Ash glances up, noticing her new neighbor in line to get breakfast. "Oh God, of course that idiot would be here." Ash groans, praying that she doesn't have any classes with him.

Meanwhile, the Hamato boys are in the car heading to school, "I can't wait! We're finally going to public school!" Mikey shouts while practically vibrating in his seat.

"Calm down Mikey, you're going to scare everyone." Raph grouches to his younger brother, still grumpy from waking up early. Leo was almost neurotically making sure he had everything in his backpack. Donnie surprisingly was the most calm during the car ride despite being extremely excited about getting to go to public school. He was focused on how he can learn far more under the instruction of qualified professionals than he ever could have while homeschooled.

Splinter is glad his boys are excited for their official first day of school. Although they had a rough summer moving from New York to Fort Worth, Texas, he was sure it was for the best. After all, being here would hopefully be good for his boys. Maybe Splinter will benefit from this as well. Once at the school, the boys rushed to get out of the car. "Have a good day, my sons!" Splinter exclaims, feeling a bit emotional watching his boys go inside.

The hours go by as well as expected on the first day; the usual confusion of finding one's class, the principal trying to be cool as she greets the student body over the intercom, all the cliche drawn out 'getting to know you' activities. The girls were separate most of the day, finally reuniting for gym class. "Hey, y'all heard about the four turtles that moved here?" Maggie asks as they change into their gym clothes.

"Yeah, I think I had one of them in my math class earlier." Maddie saw one of the Hamato boys in her class. The blue clad one if she remembers correctly.

"I saw them in the hall between classes, the one with an orange bandana is loud as Hell." Ash finishes changing and leads the three girls out of the locker room only to see the four turtles in their gym class.

"Great." Moaned all three as they sit as far away from everyone as possible.

"Okay guys, my name is coach Dianne and I will be your gym teacher for the next three years. It's our first day, so we're just going to do some stretches before we play dodgeball!"

Mikey looks around and sees the three girls sitting by themselves in a corner while they did some stretching. He stared, curious as to why they were so far away from everyone else.

Leo took notice of the scrunched up face his brother was making, "What are you looking at Mikey?" He follows his brother's gaze only to blush dark red. He hadn't expected to see Maddie in gym class with him. The poor guy hasn't realised he is slowly developing a crush on the short haired brunette, a bit clueless about things like this because of his isolated upbringing. Raph laughs quietly while watching his oldest, 'most mature,' brother turn redder than a ripe cherry at seeing a pretty girl.

Before Mikey could get the chance to walk up to the girls to say hi, the coach began splitting everyone up into teams so they could start playing dodgeball. Unfortunately for him, they are on the other team. Mikey tries to get struck out along with the girls, really wanting a chance to talk to them.

In spite of his brother's efforts, it is Donnie that gets struck out first. Being the tallest of his classmates makes him an easy target. Ash gets hit not long after by a lucky shot, despite her doing an amazing job at dodging due to her small stature.

She sits near Donnie, grabs a book from her backpack and begins to read. Donnie notes that she's reading Macbeth and can't resist but get a little closer to her. "So, um, I see that you're into Shakespeare. I like his work too." He says in an attempt to make small talk.

She glances up, surprised that someone actually wants to talk to her. Hardly anyone talks to her. "It's okay, not one of my favorites. I'm just reading ahead for my English homework." Ash replies to the tall nerdy terrapin, blushing as she takes a good look at him. He's pretty cute for a mutant turtle. An adorable gap between his teeth and enchanting red-brown eyes are two things she spots off the bat.

"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Donnie." The shy boy extends a large three digit hand, shaking Ash's far smaller one. He's blown away by how beautiful she is. Extra long espresso locks, soft pale skin, sweet sensitive brown eyes, she's an absolute angel.

"I'm Ash, it's nice to meet you."

Leo is next to get hit and forced to sit on the bleachers. His sapphire blue eyes widen when he sees Maddie get struck out and begin walking in his direction. He wants to talk to her, but he has no idea what to say. "Um, hi." Leo says, his voice squeaking a little. He brushes it off the best he can, especially now that he's gotten her attention.

"Yes?" Maddie questions, wondering what this nerd could possibly want from her.

"I, uh, saw you in math class, and I want to get to know you a little better." Leo fidgets awkwardly under her harsh gaze. With her standing in front of him, he can really admire her better. Short, honey-brown hair frames her face perfectly. Her face and arms are splattered with adorable freckles. But, it's her eyes that fluster Leo the most. They're a beautiful blue-green. The shades shift depending on how the light hits them.

"Uh okay, what do you want to know?" Maddie asks, not knowing why Leo wants to talk to her but open to talk. The fact that the blue clad turtle is fairly handsome may have slightly opened her up to discussion. Pine green skin and sweet round sapphire eyes? Swoon worthy.

"So uh, Mr. Evans is a nutcase huh?" Leo chokes out. Jesus, he sucks at flirting. Just being social is a struggle when you've been isolated for so long, how is he supposed to hit on someone? Everyone that was watching them could see he was struggling like Hell.

Raph and Maggie are soon struck out. The red banded turtle watches Maggie sit down and curl in on herself. He is pulled in by how mysterious she looks. Raph has no idea that in reality the young woman is a small angry gremlin. He swaggers over to her, in reality looking like a fucking idiot, "Sup! How are ya?" Raph asks the young Wiccan.

"Hi?" Maggie responds hesitantly, unsure why he's talking to her.

Suspicious of new people, she stays curled into herself. This doesn't exactly hide her as much as she wishes it did, however. Long, dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail, revealing and enchanting hazel eyes as she peers up at the intruder to her personal space.

"So how's your day going?" He asks, noticing that Maggie seems to be a bit wary.

She decides he's not posing a threat, at least not currently, "Eh it's what you'd expect on the first day of school." Maggie shrugs, humming non-committedly. She is just a bit unsure how to react now that Raph is talking to her. The two continue chatting about classes, Maggie letting Raph lead the conversation for the most part.

Finally, Mikey gets struck out of the game. "Hey guys!" The youngest turtle shouts, curious as to what his older brothers are doing. His face absolutely lights up when he sees that the girls he wanted to talk to earlier are now talking with his brothers.

Leo sees his baby brother making his way towards him and Maddie, he prays that Mikey doesn't embarrass him. Maddie sees the excitable turtle braces for herself. He seems nice but at the same time she's not sure if he's really friendly. "Maddie, this is my baby brother Mikey." Leo introduces the two, knowing Mikey wants to talk to her.

Mikey excitedly shakes Maddie's hand. He can't believe he has a new friend. "I love your hoodie! I'm a fan of My Hero Academia too!" Mikey exclaims, happy someone likes the same show he likes.

"Yeah? I just got into it recently. It's awesome!" Maddie says as she begins to talk to the orange clad turtle. Leo can't believe that Mikey took Maddie's attention away from him, then again, he should have expected this from his baby brother.

Casey spots Ash on the bleachers and heads over. He's eager to get to know his next-door neighbor, "Hey there, how's it going?"

Ash looks up at Casey and groans, why does he have to be her class? "Hi, I'm okay." Ash replied curtly.

Donnie wonders how they know each other. "So um, how do you two know each other? Do you have a class together or something?"

Ash shakes her head, "No he's my next-door neighbor, he moved into my neighborhood during the summer." She has nothing against Casey. It's just that he seems to follow her wherever she goes. Before they could have a chance to really talk, the bell rings for lunch. Ash sighs in relief as she grabs her things and Maddie so they can get away from all of these people. Maggie follows them, overhearing that they're going to hide out in the art room. Being in a quiet spot is better than being in the loud cafeteria.

The three girls wait in line to get some food, blissfully unaware that Mikey is planning to get the three girls to become his best friends. "So, you two gonna join any clubs or something?" Maddie asks as she grabs a tray of food and some milk.

Maggie grabs some food as well, sticking out her tongue at the choices, "I'm probably gonna join the band or something."

"I might join the cooking or arts and crafts club." Ash says, not caring how long she stays after school. It's better than being at home.

The boys are looking around for a place to sit only for their baby brother to drag them to the art room. "Mikey, where are you taking us?" Leo questions. Mikey doesn't answer, but his brothers have no choice but to follow him to make sure that he's okay. Casey goes with the turtles. He just feels like they may be fun to hang around. As the girls get settled in the art room, they hear muffled voices in the hall. They share confused looks until Mikey bursts through the door and sits down. The girls are startled and a bit nervous, but choose not to question it.

"Hi! I'm Michelangelo, but you guys can call me Mikey. I saw you guys in gym class and wanted to get to know you." Mikey bounces excitedly as he sits in front of the girls.

Once they enter the art room, Leo, Donnie, Raph, and Casey stop to catch their breath. Leo and his other two brothers begin apologizing for Mikey's behavior. Unlike the orange clad baby, they could recognize he was acting like a total stalker. The girls accepted their apology, seeing that Mikey means no harm. And who could say no to his adorable face? Especially when he just wanted to make friends!

"So uh Mikey, what elementary school did you and your brothers go to?" Ash asks as she eats her Burger.

"Oh we've been homeschooled until we moved here in June." Mikey replies as he eats his tots.

"Yeah, we're actually from New York. But Dad wanted to move here so we have a better education." Donnie adds as he peels an orange.

Maddie is stunned, "We don't usually get a lot of people from up North, they think our weather is too crazy."

"Yup, Texas has crazy weather." Maggie adds.

"No kidding! How can you survive in this weather? How do you walk around in the summer heat without dying?" Leo asks, amazed how anyone can stand the heat at all.

"We were raised in it, that's just how we are." Ash says as she doesn't think that heat is that bad.

Maddie and Leo blush when their eyes meet. They can't help but glance at each other, finding each other cute. Mikey notices their stares as he talks to Ash and Maggie, he's definitely going to tease Leo later.

"So what was it like in the Big Apple?" Maggie questions curiously.

Raph was happy to answer that question between bites of his burger. "It was okay, we mainly stayed in the house. Dad was paranoid about something happening to us."

The girls were surprised. Not only did they not see much of New York, but their dad was concerned enough for their safety that they moved so far away. "It's pretty cool, I want to go back when I get older." Casey stuffs his face with soggy tater-tots, continuing the conversation by telling them some stories he had from the few years he lived in the big city before moving.

The tweens continue talking to each other, and the girls are pleasantly surprised that they are having fun with these New Yorkers. The three girls are used to living in solitude and only talking to others when they have to, so this is a nice change. Mikey is just happy to have made some new friends on his first day of public school. Everyone is enjoying themselves as they chat among each other until lunch is over and they must go to their next lesson.

Donnie and Ash blush when they see they have the same science class. Ash thought she's the only one in the honors courses, unaware that Donnie is just as big a nerd as she is. The rest of the day goes by fairly well, the bell promptly releasing the students from class. The day is over, and they're free to go home.

The Hamato boys patiently wait for Rat Dad to come and pick them up. Mikey sees Ash and Maddie are waiting for their late bus and waves at them. Smiling when they wave back at him.

Leo soon sees Rat Dad's car, "C'mon Mikey, Father's here!" He shouts. Raph, seeing Mikey had seemingly completely ignored Leo, grabs his baby brother's arm and yanks him into the car.

"I assume you boys had a good day at school?" Splinter questions hopefully as he watches his boys get into the car.

"We had a great day Papa! I made some new friends!" Mikey shouts as he puts his seatbelt on.

"Yeah, we met them in gym class. They're really nice." Donnie says, a bright blush on his face.

"They're nice girls." Leo adds, getting Splinter's attention.

Splinter is apprehensive that the first friends they made were girls, though knowing his youngest he has no reason for concern. Mikey just wants to be friends with anyone and everyone. The more Splinter listens to what Mikey tells him, the more he relaxes as he can tell that Mikey is just trying to be friendly. Rat Dad is relieved that his boys had a good day at school, he had worried that moving here wouldn't turn out the way he had hoped. Thankfully Fort Worth seems like a great choice for him and his boys so far. If only they knew this was just the beginning of their new lives.

[ryqoshay]

Happy Life: Sweeter Than a Choir

Primary Pairing: YohaRiko Words: ~1.4k Rating: G AU: Angelic? Time Frame: Sometime after their college years Story Arc: Stand Alone Set: “Thank You” For Your Smile (HtHaN) Sweeter Than a Choir (HL) All I Can Say (TA)

Author’s Note: A second salvo for the seasonal scene barrage.

TheFallenAngel: Ne, Riri!

TheFallenAngel: One of my little demons just gifted me the new Christmas cosmetics pack!

TheFallenAngel: I know we have plans after dinner but do you mind if I stream before?

SakurauchiRiko: Of course you can stream

SakurauchiRiko: Have fun!

SakurauchiRiko: See you when I get home

“I’m home!” Riko announced as she walked in the door.

“Taste the minty wrath of Santahane’s Candy Scythe!”

Riko chucked to herself as she realized Yoshiko was already lost to the world as she focused on the game she was playing. Then, a grey dog and a black cat scampered around the corner into the entryway.

“Hey, Prelude, Phobetor.” She knelt to greet the pets of the apartment, offering both scratches behind the ears and under their chins.

After a minute or two, Riko took off her coat and boots and stored them before making her way to the living room. It came as no surprised that those watching the stream noticed her presence before Yoshiko.

“Uwah!” Yoshiko seemed to notice her girlfriend’s name being spammed in chat and glanced at Riko. “Hey, Riri! I’m almost do- Ha! Ring out! Fall into winter’s abyss! Santahane shall rain coal down after you for your naughtiness!” Her final taunt issued, she tossed her controller onto the cushion beside her and popped up off the couch. “Welcome home!” She spread her arms wide.

By the gods, she looks cute, Riko thought to herself as she fought down her embarrassment and stepped forward into her girlfriend’s waiting arms.

Yoshiko had apparently found an old outfit from one of their Christmas themed photoshoots back during their time with Aqours. Or perhaps she had made a new one in a similar style, Riko couldn’t quite tell. Either way, the bells and beads and poinsettias and cape and tiny hat, all in Christmas colors, suited Yoshiko well. And the tousled twin tail hairstyle was a pleasant change from her normal side bun.

It was all so adorable, Riko couldn’t help herself when she pulled back from the embrace just enough so she could reposition her head and lean down for a kiss. She tried to ignore the surge of notification sounds as cheers and subscriptions flooded in from the still-live stream.

Finally, Riko pulled away and turned toward the camera. “Hi, everyone!” She greeted cheerfully, hoping her blush was being kept to a minimum, though realizing it probably was not. “I know you’re all enjoying Yocchan’s bonus stream today, but I’m going to need to steal her back in a little while so we can decorate for the holiday.” She smiled as she skimmed some of the responses. “Hrm, we’ll see. I’m still not that good at fighting games, but perhaps I will join Yocchan next time. Maybe.” She turned to Yoshiko. “I’m going to go make dinner, so you have until then to keep playing.”

“Right!” Yoshiko grinned before pouncing back onto the couch and grabbing her controller. “Alright, who among you is willing to face Santahane to claim their place on the Nice list?”

Riko also smiled as she made her way to the kitchen. Over the years, she had become quite fond of listening to Yoshiko’s streams and occasionally even participating in them. But it hadn’t always been like that. The younger girl’s energy had, still to this day, the potential to overwhelm the more reserved older girl, but time and time again, Riko found herself drawn in by the enthusiasm. The smiles, the laughter, even the melodramatic antics. Riko had come to love it all.

“You can’t stop my Jingle Bell attack!”

Haughty laugher burst out from the living room as Riko assuming another little demon was felled at the hands of the skilled fallen angel. Yoshiko was obviously enjoying herself, which in turn was what Riko enjoyed watching, or listening to in this case.

“Yocchan!” Riko called. “Dinner is ready. Come help me set the table.”

“The time has come, little demons.” Yoshiko announced to her viewers. “Yohane must bid thee adieu, for now. But fret not! Thy master shall soon return! Pay heed to thy standard digital messenger systems so that thou might participate in our next gathering from across the void.”

A moment later, the blue-haired girl practically skipped into the kitchen, her cape flowing behind her and twin tails bouncing over her shoulders.

“Thanks for making dinner!” Yoshiko said, sliding in to set a shameless kiss on Riko’s cheek before gliding away to grab plates from the cupboard. Silverware and napkins were nabbed next and the winter holiday wrapped whirlwind spun out to the living room.

Riko followed the other girl with their meal and set it on the table before taking her seat.

“Itadakimasu!” Yoshiko clapped her hands together before reaching for her fork. “Mmm! Riri’s cooking is always the best!”

“I’m glad you like it.” Riko replied, taking her own first bite.

No matter how many times Yoshiko said as such, part of Riko continued to worry about making mistakes when she prepared meals. And of course she knew full well that Yoshiko would eat just about anything she made, despite, and sometimes because of said mistakes. Nonetheless, she doubted she would ever tire of watching Yoshiko enjoy the food she had made for her.

The notification for the Aqours group chat sounded on both of their phones.

“Someone must have finished decorating already.” Riko decided. “Should we check?”

Yoshiko agreed and retrieved her phone. “Ah, Ruby and Zuramaru.”

“It’s a lovely display.”

“Yeah, but we can out do them.”

Riko was about to point out that it wasn’t really a competition but was interrupted by Yoshiko laughing. She checked her phone to find Mari being scolded by Dia for her commentary while Kanan played an all-too-casual mediator. She set her device down to resume her meal but continued to listen to her girlfriend laugh as the situation unfolded.

It was a completely different laughter than earlier during the stream. Yohane’s laugh was hearty, deep and more than a little mischievous, while Yoshiko’s was gentler, purer and decidedly sweeter. Like her singing voice, the girl’s laughter had the range of an entire choir. And like her streams, Riko enjoyed listening.

After a few minutes, Yoshiko settled back down and the couple began chatting about various things like their respective days at work and what decorations they most looked forward to putting up. Once they were done, they both cleared their places and headed for the dining room.

“Ne, Riri,” Yoshiko spoke up “one of my little demons sent me a play list of Christmas parody songs. The ones I’ve listened to so far have been pretty funny. Do you want to listen? Otherwise, I have a more normal playlist prepared as well.”

Riko was about to choose the normal list when she realized the parodies would mean comedy. Comedy more than likely meant more laughter from Yoshiko. Suddenly, the weights shifted on her decision-making scale.

“The parody list is fine.” Riko agreed after a moment.

“Thanks, Riri!” She grinned. And with more flourish than was necessary, Yoshiko paired her phone to the stereo and started the music.

“I should be thanking you, Yocchan.”

“Huh?” Yoshiko tilted her head. “For what?”

Oh, had she said that out loud? Well, may as well tell her.

“For your laughter.” Riko started to explain. “For your smile. For your joyful energy that fills this place and makes it a home worth living in. For just, you know, being you. And for being with me.”

For a moment, it looked like Yoshiko might burst into tears, but just as moisture was starting to gather at the edges of her eyes, she blinked it away. “Riri~!” she cried, launching herself at Riko.

Having mostly anticipated this reaction, Riko caught the other girl and pulled her into an embrace.

“You’re welcome! And thank you!” Was all Riko heard before Yoshiko became incoherent.

Riko contented herself by running her hands through curled twin tails while Yoshiko babbled into her shoulder. However, it wasn’t long before what she thought was a classic carol started to play and Yoshiko chuckled. A moment later, she pulled away. Magenta eyes shone like the lights the couple was about to hang.

“This one is one of my favorites.” Yoshiko said excitedly. “I think you’ll like it too, Riri.”

“Alright, I’ll be sure to pay attention to the lyrics.” Riko assured. “Shall we start decorating?”

Yoshiko agreed and the couple started opening boxes. Another Christmas season was underway and Riko quietly prayed for a hundred more to come, each as wonderful as the last.

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post