#It just feels easier to draw on lined paper than it does on blank and idk why

[woso-dreamzzz]

Foxes

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: You like foxes

Jenni watches as you unpack your bag.

It is with great certainty that you line up your toys. She'd tried to get you to cut down on the amount that you brought with you but it'd triggered a meltdown so big that the neighbours complained about the noise.

It was easier to let you bring them all, even if they were all exactly the same as each other.

It wasn't an exaggeration either.

They were the same exact fox toy. The same one over and over again.

You had a few different ones at home but there were about seven or eight of this one, staring at Jenni with blank black eyes.

You pet each of them on the head before getting off the bed. You've been fascinated with the carpet ever since you both got in, randomly stopping what you were doing to aimlessly stroke it with a little crinkle between your brows that shows you don't know why you like it either.

It's another one of those things that Jenni has come to love about you.

It's strange, she knows, to outsiders but it's you down to your very core and she loves that.

You occupy yourself so well, so independent in your playing. Or...independent in the way that you only played by yourself because people tended to not play the way you liked and that usually sent you into a meltdown.

Either way, with you investigating the carpet and your foxes lined up against your pillows, Jenni takes the time to unpack her own things.

It had been a bit of a risk bringing you to the World Cup but with her parents and Rafa both busy, there was nowhere else she could put you but here.

"There foxes here, Mami?" You ask, finally sitting up.

"In Australia?" Jenni asks," I think so, osita."

You hum and get to your feet.

Your obsession with foxes is a little over the top, Jenni can admit but it's not causing anyone any harm so she indulges it. Besides, it just means that she knows exactly what to get you.

You hum again, meandering over to rub your hands over her soft tracksuit bottoms.

Your hand does a big swipe down before going straight up to her hip to do it again.

"Do they feel nice?" Jenni asked with a little laugh and your head bobs up and down in agreement.

You jolt when there's a knock at the door though. You immediately clamp your hands over your ears and Jenni sympathetically smooths down your hair.

"Don't like it, Mami," You say.

"I know."

There's another round of knocks, more impatient than before.

"One second!" Jenni calls as she sets you up at the desk with your pencils and drawing pad.

Jenni pokes her head out of the door. "Hola?"

Irene, Laia, Mariona and Alexia wait there, each of them sporting large smiles.

"Can we come in?"

Jenni spares a look behind her. You seem content again, scrawling over the paper.

"Yeah, alright." She lets the others in. "Osita, we've got company."

"Hi," You say but don't tear your eyes away from the page.

Laia and Mario instantly make themselves comfortable on Jenni's bed while Irene goes to check out the view. Alexia wanders closer to you, crouching by the chair you're sitting in.

"Hola, osita," She says to you," It's nice to see you again. I missed you."

"Okay." You keep drawing.

"Osita," Jenni says," Tell Alexia you missed her too."

Your brows draw together but you do what you're told. "Alexia," You say," Missed you too."

Alexia smiles at you fondly, more than aware of your little quirks as she takes a peak at your drawing. "That's a nice fox," She says.

"Yes," You say," It's a red fox." You flip to the front of the book to show the exact same drawing. You keep flipping the pages to show Alexia the exact same drawing on all of them.

The same red fox on all the pages.

"Red fox," You say, suddenly regurgitating words Jenni's heard countless times before," Vulpes vulpes. Found in Europe, Asia, Africa and America. Most widely distributed animal naturally apart from people." You keep drawing, dragging your pencil across the page. "Give birth in dens. Babies stay with adults until autumn and then leave."

"You know a lot about foxes," Alexia says.

"Yes," You reply, switching your orange pencil for black.

"Do you have a favourite?"

"Swift fox," You say immediately," Vulpes velox. Small like housecat. Found in America." Somehow, you've opened up a little to Alexia, fully facing her now though your eyes are nowhere near her face. "I like foxes."

"I know," Alexia says. She dips her hand into her pocket. "I couldn't find a big one but here."

It's a keyring with a knitted fox attached to it.

You swipe your hand over the fabric and immediately pull it away, grabbing it by the silver ring instead. You want to pull a face but you know that's not okay.

Mami tells you that all the time so you keep your face blank.

You shuffle off the chair to give the keychain to Mami to look after, wiping the icky feeling off your hand while you're still there.

"Is this from Ale?" She asks and you nod," Did you say thank you?"

You turn back to face Alexia again. "Thank you."

You don't go back to your drawing, you just sit at Mami's feet and trace the pattern of the carpet with your finger.

"Hey, osita," Laia says to you," Are you enjoying Mexico?"

You don't look up from what you're doing. "No," You say," Roja is not in Mexico."

"Roja?"

"Fox that me and Mami fed in our garden," You continue, perking up a little bit," She is not in Mexico. We do not have a fox in Mexico."

"Roja wasn't ours," Mami reminds you," She only came back because we kept feeding her."

"Roja had babies," You say like Mami hasn't even said anything," That's why she was fat. Roja had babies and then we left her."

Mami sighs. "We didn't leave Roja. We-"

"Red foxes have between four to five babies," You plough on, sitting upright again and talking at Laia," Born blind and deaf. Mating happens in winter so babies are born in spring, raised in summer and leave in autumn. Babies-"

You cut yourself off as Alexia goes to move and you stand up.

"Why you going?"

"Osita," Mami says," What have I said about being polite?"

You blink at Mami a few times, trying to recall what she told you before. Mami has to give your reminders a lot. She says that you're not good socially but you don't think it's your fault that people are weird and don't make sense.

She understands you and Alexia understood you when you used to live in Spain and that's all that matters.

"Where you going?" You correct and Mami laughs a little in disbelief, though you don't really get why.

Alexia laughs. "Just the toilet, osita. I'll be back soon."

You nod at her, just once. "Okay."

You sit back down by Mami's feet and go back to tracing the carpet.

"Someone missed her tia Ale," Irene teases and that causes you to frown.

Actually, you don't think you did miss Alexia, not in the way Irene clearly thinks you do. Actually, you don't really think about Alexia when you're in Mexico. You don't really think about anyone that much unless you see a picture of them.

Maybe you do miss Alexia though. In the beginning you think you did but that's because she was a big part of your life and then she suddenly wasn't anymore and that's a big adjustment.

You miss Alexia now though, as she goes off to the toilet but you've never been all that consumed by missing people except for Mami and that's never really happened because you're always with her.

Feelings are weird and people are even weirder, you decide and you migrate a bit closer to Mami. You tug on her leg, looking at her with big wide eyes.

She seems to understand you though, throwing your favourite fox patterned blanket to you.

You make a little tent so you don't have to see anyone else.

You can't always interact with people well so you prefer being in your fox tent.

You take a big, deap breath that runs through your whole body before releasing it.

You smile.

You can feel Mami behind you.

You think this World Cup won't be as bad as you thought it would be.

[canon-fcdder]

“…You’re still listening?”

It catches Sniper off guard, the way Pyro is looking at him, still seemingly tuned in. He’s been rambling on about Australian wildlife for long enough that something in the back of his brain decided nobody was listening anymore, he was just talking for the sake of talking. Which isn’t really something he does, unless it’s about one of a very select few topics. The incredible creatures of his home country happen to be at the top of that list.

Being quiet is easier, usually. It’s good practice in his line of work, and it allows him to listen more. He picks up on quite a bit just by paying attention and letting others talk. But today he let himself get excited about kangaroos and tarantulas and quokkas, and it seems Pyro is actually interested.

“You can have a turn. If you want. I’ll listen to you. Or we can draw, or whatever you feel like. I could… show you some newspaper clippings with photos of the bush fires in them.” His tone is stilted with the awkwardness of realising he’s probably wasted their time. They’re being so polite, and he just… well. That’s another reason he likes being quiet.

Still, even as he stiffens, he can’t help but feel a little warm. It’s nice, that Pyro didn’t tune him out entirely. It’s nice being around someone who can at least feign interest.

(From your bestest buddy Calvin)

-  ✩   「 @honeydewmuses 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」   Pyro LOVES when people talk to them.

They’ve gotten used to the quiet. There was no choice but to... But that’s alright because in the suffocating silence they learned how to do something arguably better than talking with others. Talking isn’t that hard anyway; it’s just saying things. What makes it difficult is whether people listen or not. Which is why Pyro is so grateful for the frightening isolation of their youth. What else are they supposed to be about it? Angry? Devastated? Terrified of the chance that it’ll happen all over again and they’ll find themselves tossed aside without a single soul to keep them company? No, no— gratitude is the only emotion that makes sense. 

Because it made them a really good listener... For the most part.

Sometimes it’s not only difficult, but impossible to understand what is being told to them. As if the other person isn’t conversing with words, but speaking a strange static. Incapable of clicking in Pyro’s brain, no matter how hard either of them try. An unfortunate fact of the world, but unchangeable as the air they breathe or the fires that burn. At least they aren’t alone in this, their teammates sometimes having issues understanding what THEY say. Except for Sniper. He always seems to know. He didn’t use to, but now he does. So... it wasn’t an unchangeable fact for him. Pyro feels pretty confident that it is for them, though.

But that’s okay... Just like everything else.

❝  Of course I’m still listening!  ❞  Chimes a chipper reply, Pyro only barely registering the others surprise. Too engrossed by tales of fantastical creatures they wish were running around in front of them RIGHT NOW, a shock of disappointment shoots through their gut at the suggestion that Sniper stop. Not that it isn’t great to talk to Sniper... but later. After Sniper has said everything he wants to say.  ❝  No, no— Don’t stop!  ❞  Shaking their head and waving their hands to emphasize their point, Pyro then begins to rummage around, scattering papers aside in their quest for a blank sheet. An oddity with so many artists in the same space, but not an impossibility.  ❝  I like hearing you talk... and y’know what else I like?  ❞  

Triumphantly holding up pieces of paper in one hand and a marker in the other, Pyro beams behind their mask,  ❝  Drawing the things you talk about!  ❞  Slapping down the paper onto the floor, Pyro lies on their stomach, legs happily kicking in the air. Focused on Sniper as if he’s the most important interesting person in the world, they lightly tap the paper with the still-capped tip of their marker in an unnamed rhythm,  ❝  Now instead of picturing it all in my head, I can picture it in actual pictures. You can even have them if you want.  ❞  

Sniper is probably missing his kangaroos and tarantulas and quokkas... and all the other animal friends that he isn’t near anymore. People don’t usually talk so excitedly about people and things that aren’t around unless they wish they WERE. Drawings won’t make those feelings go away entirely, but they can still help. After all, a drawn quokka is better than NO quokka. Especially if it’s drawn by someone who cares.   「 ☆ 」 

[periwinkle-pencils]

Overcoming Art Block

image by ResoluteAssassin on Deviantart

Art block. Anyone who enjoys drawing shudders at the mention of it. The big bad invisible wall between you and your artwork that prohibits even the slightest thought of creativity. Art block sucks. It's super annoying to deal with, and it can leave you feeling frustrated at your lack of progress. Luckily, there are some ways to shake this seemingly unbreakable barrier and continue drawing. It’s tricky to do, but not impossible, and I’ll be sharing some tips on how to overcome it in this blog.

Just get started

When I get art block, starting a piece can feel like running a marathon. The blank paper or screen just stares back at me mockingly, and the complete and total silence of my creativity echoes out through my head. The paper or screen is just so empty, and I can’t seem to fill it no matter what I do. One of the best things to do when you don’t know how to start your drawing is to just start. Don’t think too much about it, just start the piece. Make a few light scribbles on the paper, draw a few lines on the screen, make a few shapes out of paint on the canvas, whatever you need to do! Once you have your start, try and find some familiar shapes in the mess. Does that squiggle look like a face? Detail it! Does that line look like a snake? Detail it! Do those blobs look like rocks? Detail them! Once you’ve found those points, keep on drawing them until they’re finished. Then suddenly, voila! You have your art, and no more art block!

Practice practice practice

This might seem strange, but art block is great for practising things you struggle with. I have trouble with anatomy, and often struggle with drawing hands and poses. When I get art block, sometimes one of the best things for me to do is practice anatomy. I pull up a billion reference photos of what I want to draw, and get to practising it. Art block makes drawing interesting and creative things especially difficult, so doing something like anatomy studies is a little easier and helps you improve. This won’t make the art block go away, but it helps you work through it and improve. It’s also a lot easier than something more creative because you’re drawing from reference. You know exactly what you’re drawing, and there’s nothing your brain has to do on it’s own. It’s not always fun, but it works.

Good ol’ prompts

Prompts are a lifesaver with art block. I have a list of drawing ideas, poses, colour pallets, and characters ready and on hand just in case I get art block. Why spend all that time and effort moping over ideas that you can’t come up with when you can have a million ideas in a list to choose from? Keeping a list of prompts on your phone can be really helpful for ideas, and can be just the thing to get you going when art block is giving you a rough time. Or, alternatively, you can just look up some prompts online. There are millions of drawing prompts on the internet to choose from! If there are too many choices for you to decide on one, just use a randomizer wheel. Pick six prompts randomly, and put them in the wheel. Then spin it and BOOM! That’s what you draw. Crisis averted.

example of some prompts

So, next time art block hits you, why not try some of these tips? Please let me know if any of these helped you. Feel free to share some advice or tips of your own in the comments, I’d love to hear them!

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers Zero Vol. 12 Azusa Mukami [Track 1]

Original title: 串刺しの蝶たち

Source: Diabolik Lovers Zero Vol. 12 Azusa Mukami [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Kishio Daisuke

Translator’s note: The second to last Zero CD I have to translate before completing the entire series, wooh~! I know Azusa isn’t a very popular character within the fandom, but I actually have a huge soft spot for him after translating his Eternal Blood CD. ;w; He is just such a cutie at times, it warms my heart. Hearing his ‘clone’ talk regularly completely threw me off though! He sounds so different, but in a good way! I kind of wish Azusa would start talking a little faster himself but I suppose that’s part of the charm of his character?

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 1: Pinned Butterflies

*Creaaaaak*

*THUD*

The two of you step inside the museum.

“It’s really...pouring outside, huh?”

You nod.

“I’m glad we just so happened...to pass by a place where we can take shelter from the rain...If not, we might have ended up...wandering through the forest while sopping wet...However, if we return home late...Ruki and the others will...get worried. I wonder if we should have just...headed straight home after finishing our errand?”

You frown. 

“It has been a while since we visited the Demon World...So we just wanted to make a little detour, right...?”

*CRASH*

You flinch at the thunder.

“...Oh. It struck closeby...With the weather like this...It seems smart to stay here...until the rain lifts...”

You agree.

“We’ll end up returning home late but...Let’s stay here just a little longer? Then after we’re back...We can apologize to everyone. I’m sure they’ll understand...If we explain.”

You nod.

“Mmh. I suppose we can kill some time...inside this building?”

Azusa starts looking around.

“Hm...But...I didn’t expect to find a museum around here...Seems like we are the only visitors though...Furthermore...Oh. What an impressive amount of portraits...Several people are portrayed...Seeing them all lined up next to each other like this...makes me a little anxious.”

You tell him it’s a little creepy.

“Mmh. I’m sure they would have made for nice paintings...if only their expressions were a little more bright...But they all seem to be suffering. ...That large canvas over there...The man on it looks sad, don’t you think? I wonder if he...went through a painful experience? ...This museum is kinda...weird.”

*CRASH*

“Ah...! ...Ah, are you okay? ...The thunder is a little scary here, don’t you think? It said on the guide map that there’s a basement floor as well...So should we move there?”

*TIMESKIP*

You have arrived in the basement.

“Just as I thought...We can’t hear the thunder down here...It’s less illuminated than the earlier floor but...It seems comfortable to stay at.”

Azusa comes to a halt.

“Oh. A door. I wonder what room this is...?”

He opens the door.

*Creaaaak*

“Woah...It’s so spacious...There’s a bunch of glass cases...Are they exhibiting something, perhaps...? ...Oh! There’s a lot of...insects. They all look like...specimen.”

You get scared, hiding behind Azusa.

*Rustle*

“Oh? What’s wrong...? No need to hide...They can’t move, so it’s fine...”

You still seem worried.

“Hm...There’s a lot of species from the Demon World but...I can spot some insects which exist in the human world as well...Ah! This! These are the bugs which devastated Yuma’s garden in the past...They ate the vegetables Yuma had been carefully growing...It was quite the fiasco...Me and Kou had to help him get rid of the bugs as well...Fufu~ Brings back memories...”

The two of you continue looking around.

“...Oh. Now that I got a better look, they’re displayed all over the walls as well. I wonder if that...large insect the size of a cushion is...real?”

You get scared again.

“...Oh. Ah...Huh? Your complexion looks...pale?”

You explain. 

“Ah...I’m sorry. I guess these are scary to you...even if they can’t move? Yet I failed to notice...Shall we leave this room now?”

You try and act tough. 

“You don’t look okay...No need to push yourself...Okay?”

*Rustle*

“Your body is...shaking. Hey, come here.”

Azusa pulls you close.

*Rustle rustle*

“I’m sure you’ll calm down in my embrace...In no time...”

He starts stroking your head.

“There, there...Everything will be okay...I’m with you...after all...”

You smile. 

“Mmh. I’m glad you seem a little more...relaxed. Ah...But you’re still a little tense...I wonder if we should touch each other more...?”

He cups your cheek.

“Whenever you do this to me...I always feel really relieved...So I figured you might feel the same...How is it?”

You tell him it feels nice.

“Fufu~ I’m glad...Then, next up...Mmh.”

*Smooch*

You get flustered.

“Hehe~ You twitched just now...Hm. Seems like you’re gradually relaxing...Also the scent of your blood...has grown sweeter. Does it feel...good, perhaps? Oh. Right. If you feel good, you’ll no longer be bothered by the specimen, right...?”

*Rustle*

“Say...I’ll suck your blood. If I do that, you don’t have to worry about a thing...”

You seem a little worried. 

“Don’t worry...Leave it to me. Mmh...”

Azusa bites you.

*Gulp*

*Sluuuurp*

“Haah...Mmh...Your blood is...extremely delicious. Say, do you feel good now?”

You don’t respond.

“What’s the matter? Was this...simply not enough? Hm...Hehe. However, you’re enraptured. Your cheeks are flushed and...you’ve got that dreamy look in your eyes. Haah...I wonder why you are this cute?”

You quickly cover your face with both hands.

“Oh...Why would you hide your face? I want to...see it.”

You explain.

“It’s...embarrassing? Hm...There’s really no reason to conceal it though. But...If you don’t want to, I won’t force you...You can keep your hands there, okay? I’ll suck your blood from here...”

He bites you again.

*Sluuuuurp*

“...Haah...Such sweet noises...Even though you said it’s embarrassing...You actually wanted me to do this...right? Hehe. I’ll bite other places too...”

*Sluuuuurp*

*Gulp gulp*

“Mmh...Hah...Haah...Oh. You no longer...need to hide your face? Has your mind...gone blank?”

You nod.

“Fufu~ I’m glad that’s the case. ...Your body has...stopped shivering as well, it seems...I wanted to do this for your sake but...I ended up getting a little too into it as well. Hm...The wounds aren’t deep so I’m sure the bleeding has stopped already...”

Azusa takes a deep breath.

“The whole room’s filled with the scent of blood now, huh...? It might be good that there’s...no other Vampires here. If someone else was around, it might have lead to trouーー”

A sudden gust of wind can be heard.

“O-Oh...? Ah...What was that just now...? The sound of the wind...? It kind of sounded like someone...crying?”

You tell Azusa you don’t like being here.

“...M-Mmh...Guess we should take our leave soon...? It might have...stopped raining by now. Let’s head back up.”

*TIMESKIP*

*Creaaaak*

“Ugh...Oh? Huh? We ended up in a...different room? Did we take...a wrong turn?”

Azusa steps into the room.

“It’s better lit than the other rooms...There’s a canvas and art supplies...Everything’s all over the place. ...Seems like this isn’t an exhibition room. There’s no specimen either, so don’t worry. Say...This might be a working space? Oh...If that’s the case...We might get scolded for entering without permission, right? Let’s quickly leave. It’d be troublesome if...we were to stain something important...”

He bumps into something while turning around.

*Thud*

*Flip*

“...Aah! Oh...I dropped them...S-Sorry...!”

Azusa kneels down to pick up the papers and so do you.

“Ah...Thank you for helping me...”

The two of you pick up the drawings.

“I guess we’ve got them all now...?”

*Flip*

“Oh...These were drawn with...pencil, I suppose? What a beautiful person...It’s the same woman portrayed on all of them. I’m sure she was...someone very important.”

T/N: From this point onwards, I will be putting fake Azusa’s dialogue between ( ) and changing the font to bolded italics. This CD has both the real and the fake Azusa interacting with you and each other, so hopefully that will make it a bit easier to tell them apart.

( Exactly. She was important. )

“...E-Eh?”

( To me, she was irreplaceable.... )

“...!? W-Who are you...? Where are you...!?”

( Right here. Look at the wall. )

“Oh? ...Huh? My...portrait? Are you the one...who talked just now?”

( That’s right. Nice to meet you, dear visitors. Ah. I suppose it would be rude to introduce myself from within the canvas. )

The fake Azusa steps out of the frame.

( ...Uhm, let me greet you one more time. Nice to meet you, dear visitors. Welcome to the museum. )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[birdsandspades]

Late Night Snack - A Bakugou Katsuki Drabble

- Nightmares got you down? A ramen cup can fix that! Let’s see who joins your for your late night noodle therapy session.

-Word Count: 1,687

-This was a byproduct of staying up till 4:00 a.m (despite being exhausted) and making a middle of the night (possibly breakfast) cup of noodle.

—-

You turned over in bed, eyes heavy as you stared a hole into the dark ceiling of your room. Your ceiling fan turning round and round, pull chain rocking back and forth with the momentum. You watched it, eyes following the blade.

How long had you been awake?

You turned to your side, glazing over the red numbers on your analog clock. They blurred into 3:47 a.m, no 3:48 as the minute passed. 

You had woken up around midnight in a cold sweat. A bright flash, screaming, your throat closing in as everything faded to black. It was enough to scare anyone. 

You attempted to fall back asleep, breathing slowing down as you settled into the sheets. But the uneasy feeling wouldn’t leave, lingering in the back of your mind. It picked away at your groggy state, leaving you grasping at sheep as you fought to drift off. 

You sat up, sheets pooling at your waist.

What was the point, you weren’t falling asleep anytime soon. 

Reaching up, you rubbed small circles into your sockets, stars filling your vision. Your eyes hurt, sore from fatigue. 

Groaning softly you shifted out of the covers. Placing your toes onto the cold ground, inching down to your heels as you stood up. 

Sliding your feet across the dark floor you found your slippers, partially tucked under the bed frame. You shimmed each foot inside, kicking the legs of your bed to secure your placement. 

You took small, shuffled steps to your bedroom door, easing it open as you stepped into the dark hallway. The dorms were quiet, only the soft sounds of sleep as you passed by each room. Your classmates had been asleep for hours, something you wished you had the privilege of enjoying. 

The common room was the same, completely empty as you walked around the couches. The blinds open just enough for the light of the moon to shutter through. The shadows of the tree outside dancing across the wooden floor boards, rolling over the exposed skin of your legs as you walked to the shared kitchen. 

You flipped over the light switch as you walked into the space, lights flickering on one by one. Rummaging through the cabinets you found the kettle. You filled it with water, setting it to boil on the stove. What better time from comfort food than 4:oo a.m? 

The kitchen chair looked inviting, pressed up against the marble island in the middle of the room. The seat looked soft, plush. The back, supportive and sturdy. So you sat, waiting for the water to boil. Your head resting in your hand, arm propped up on the cold stone as you stared at the steam snaking out the opening.

“What are you doing awake?”

You turned towards the door, his tired figure leaned up against the framework.

“I could ask you the same thing Bakugou.” You gave him a drowsy one over, before returning to your steam watching.

He was dressed in loose fitting pajama pants, wrinkled and faded. They were the only ones you ever saw him in, most likely his favorite pair. His shirt was plain, slightly baggy. It was fitting for nightwear. His hair was angled up slightly more than usual, shifted from sleep. He looked like he had been up just as long as you, the anguish mirrored in his glassy eyes.

“What does it look like, I can’t sleep.” He grumbled, pulling out a chair on the other side of the island. 

“Me either…” The whistle of the pot started soft, pitch increasing as you pulled it off the heat. 

“Are you hungry?” You turned back to Bakugou, raising the kettle.

He gave you a small nod, resting his head in his folded arms.

“What kind do you want? We have udon, soya, soba, chilli pepper noodles…” You stood up on your toes, thumbing through the selection of cups that filled the cabinets. 

“Chilli pepper is fine…” He watched you pull down two cups, unwrapping the film as you sat them down on the counter top.

You pulled back the paper lids, setting each one to the side as you poured the boiling water inside. “Here.” You set them both down, sliding one across the table. 

“Chopsticks?” Bakugou gave you an annoyed look, wrapping his hands around the warm cup.

You gave him a sleepy nod, pulling open the utensil draw. At hours like this, matching sets didn’t matter. The oddly colored sets matched together only in purpose. You extended one bundle over the table, handing them to your new seat mate.

He nodded, a small form of gratitude as he set them on top of the cup lid.

You did the same, taking your seat again.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” His voice was gruff, forced out almost.

You looked up, his eyes on you as he shifted in his seat.

“Nightmare.” You put it simply, no need for details.

He stayed quiet, eyes lowered to the lines of the marble. He traced his finger of the patterns, nodding slowly. 

It was a comfortable silence, the same that settled around you when you were alone in your room. The few moments before sleep as your eyes drifted closed, consciousness slipping as you dipped into REM. That perfect moment of complete relaxation, mind blank. 

You reached for your chopsticks, peeling off the paper lid. The steam warmed your hand as you pushed your chopsticks through the puck of softened noodles, dipping below into the warm soup. You gave it a few folds, working the mass apart. 

Bakugou followed suit, actions mirroring yours as you settled in to eat. 

You pulled a bundle out of the cup, feeding it into your mouth. Chewing with your eyes closed as the heat of the broth traveled down your throat. The warmth spread through your chest and down into your stomach. Your lower limbs melting into the seat cushion as you went back for more.

“I had a nightmare too.” 

You opened your eyes, fixing your gaze on Bakugou. His crimson hues set on you. The bags under his eyes were dark, heavy set into the puffed skin of the lower lid. The whites of his eyes tinted pink with exhaustion as he fought to keep them open.

You tilted your head, swallowing your food.

“I’m awake because I had a nightmare too.” His nose crinkled at the word, his leer now directed into the cup.

“Do you have a lot of nightmares?” You took another bite as you leaned over the table.

“Every night.” He fixed his stare on you, stirring his broth.

“I do too…” You fumbled around your cup for a moment, pulling out a thick cut of pork. “Here, give me your cup.” You met him across the table, laying the slice on the top of his ramen. You fished the other slices out, placing them into his cup one at a time. 

He looked between you and the meat a few times, confusion knitting it’s way over his brow. “What are you doing?”

“Hmm?” You looked up, retracting your chopsticks. “Oh, I figured maybe you wanted some extra, I don’t really like it.” You gave him a shy smile as you sank back into your seat.

“Well here, give me yours then.” Bakugou sat up in his seat, reaching over the table. He wrapped his fingers around your cup, pulling it over to his side of the table as he sat back down. “I hate the bamboo shoots…” He complained, dropping them into your cup. 

You met his reach, leaning out of your seat to take the cup from his outstretched hands. “Thank you…” It was a kind gesture you had not expected him to return.

You both sat in silence, eating, thinking. Every once in a while you would glance up at the tired boy in front of you. His eyes inching closed, easing up against the table as he fought off sleep. He was tired, ready to fall asleep at any moment. He was actively staying awake at this point, forcing himself.

You had finished your late night meal now, pushing it to the side. Your arms folded over the table, your head easing into the space between as you watched Bakugou finish his.

“Are you expecting me to want to talk about my nightmare?” He sneered, glaring down at you.

You remained silent, blankly staring at the boy.

He stared back, eyes narrowing until he abruptly turned away. “It’s the fucking sludge villain, it’s always the sludge villain.”

You watched as he talked, giving him the space he was ready to use.

“I just feel like i’m choking. Everything’s black and I’m so helpless. Then fucking Deku…” He looked your way, eyes softening. “ Do you ever feel like that?” 

“Every night.” You watched his eyes melt, sadness melding between the confusion that already tinted his features. 

You tipped his empty cup, looking to see if he had finished. “Done?”

He gave you a single nod, pushing it close to you.

You took the two empty cups to the trash, pressing your foot on the pedal. “ But having someone to talk to makes it easier…” You dropped the cups inside, turning to set the dirty chopsticks in the sink.

“I guess so…” Bakugou pushed his seat from the counter, standing up. “So I guess i’ll see you here tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, but your cooking.” You chuckled lightly, walking over to the door. 

“Are you going to actually talk about your shitty dreams then or?” He droned on flipping the light switch off behind you. 

“Eh maybe, depends on what you make me.” You teased, walking with him down the hallway.

It was now 5:30, your hand turning the door handle to your room. 

“Go to bed F/N.” Bakugou stared down at you a few doors down the hall, hand on his own.

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight Bakugou… sweet dreams.” You pushed the door open, giving him a soft smile.

He returned the look, turning the knob. He gave you one final glance before walking into his room, door closing behind him. 

[ask-iamnotanalicorn]

Previous: The Flim Flam Timeline

The Wasteland Timeline:

This is the story of when Equestria fell.

And this it the story of when Equestria rose again.

The trials began as they always do: with the return of Nightmare Moon. The celestial sisters clashed, and Celestia fell. Heedless of the struggle it would be to keep the Sun set with its alicorn princess banished inside it, Nightmare Moon did just that, determined that her traitorous sister experience Nightmare’s punishment.

Nightmare’s reign of Equestria was strained, but Equestria could have borne it. But within a year, the capital was attacked by the Changelings, desperate to replenish their stores of pony love that had been stymied by the nation’s state of fear and uncertainty. Nightmare Moon was barely managing to repel the threat when the Crystal Empire returned, and King Sombra began to march on her northern borders. With attacks from within and attacks from without, a distrusted leader on the throne, and economic failure rippling across the country as readily as the shifting front lines, the ponies of Equestria were more torn than ever.

So of course that’s when Discord escaped.

The upside of Discord’s release was that it temporarily stopped the fighting. Even King Sombra was smart enough to withdraw in the face of the mad draconequus on a quest of vengeance against all ponies. Queen Chrysalis and Queen Nightmare Moon (who had absconded herself at first sign of Discord’s escape, using every possible trick to keep him from finding her) formed a temporary peace treaty in order to seek a solution - for a world ruled by Discord was useless to all of them. (Granted, the Changelings could withdraw to their protected realm, but Chrysalis had tasted power and wasn’t about to let Discord have it all. She was quite looking forward to stabbing Nightmare Moon in the back afterwards.)

Their solution: a magical contract with the long-imprisoned centaur, Tirek. Tirek was more than happy to oblige. He single-handedly decimated Sombra’s troops, gorging himself on the magic of Crystal Empire and Equestrian ponies alike. It is possible that, if Discord hadn’t come to see what all the fuss was about himself, Tirek would have kept right on gorging to the very limit of the contract that bound him.

When the two titans clashed, the battle that ensued sundered hundreds of miles of landscape. Canterlot bore the greatest brunt; the castle collapsed completely from its cliffside home, the city little more than ruins. Discord’s attacks spread wildly unpredictable waves of chaos magic across much of Equestria. And when at long last Tirek had defeated him and sucked him dry, the lingering effects of that chaos magic stayed rooted in the ground like weeds.

It seemed, for the briefest moment, as if the worst problem was over. But of course, a power-maddened Tirek is a worse threat - because at least Discord doesn’t go out of his way to destroy everything in sight. Drunk on chaos magic, Tirek easily broke the tenuous contract with the queens and set across the landscape, draining ponies by the thousands and carving swaths through the countryside for the sheer wicked joy of destruction. His power was even mighty enough to destroy the changeling hive, overpowering its magical protections.

There was no choice - the two remaining rulers of any species in the land had to either defeat their own creation or face the loss of all they held dear. Nightmare Moon called upon the power of the Moon itself, drawing it nearer to Equestria in a desperate gambit. Tidal waves rocked Equestria’s coastlines, submerging Manehattan and other coastal cities entirely, and the alicorn of the night shone with deadly moonlit radiance as she bombarded Tirek with the full brunt of her power. But even Nightmare Moon at the height of her power was not strong enough to stop Tirek at the height of his, and he struck her down against the surface of the Moon itself. Some of the dislodged chunks rained down on the world, damaging more of not only Equestria, but many other countries on that side of the planet.

Tirek seemed to have won; all he had left to deal with was one small, angry changeling queen. An assured victory, no doubt.

He could not have known how wrong he was. For a changeling might give its magic willingly to a spell like Tirek’s with no ill effects, but an unwilling changeling queen will not be robbed of her power easily. As Tirek’s powers drain magic, so changeling powers drain love - and no one in all the world had such self-love as Tirek. The cycle of Tirek draining her magic and Chrysalis draining his became a self-consuming spell spiral that ultimately imploded upon itself, taking both creatures with it.

The resulting explosion could be heard across the celestial sea. For a few moments, there was something like an artificial sun on the horizon - a sun that had set directly on Equestria.

Then came the silence. After three years of war, devastation, and disasters unlike any the world had ever seen, there was silence.

And as the silence stretched, the survivors stirred.

Earth ponies, pegasi, unicorns, crystal ponies, and zebras; yaks, cows, goats, donkeys, and buffalo; gryphons, dragons, hippogryphs, minotaurs, and changelings: in spite of everything, many had survived. They rose from their hiding places to find an Equestria and Crystal Empire in ruins. No major cities still stood; borders and coastlines were unrecognizable. Large swaths of land once green and lush were barren and blasted, and spots of chaos magic lay in wait for creatures unwise enough to enter them unprotected. The moon hung wrecked in a dark sky, shining in shattered glory down on the devastation that had been the once-rich land of Equestria.

But the great destroyers were gone. None of the titans and tyrants who had brought this destruction down on the country remained. The usual monsters hardly seemed a threat anymore; those who had survived thus far had learned to cope with far worse. They could build new settlements, make new ways of life, come together or fall apart on their own merits.

And the most hopeful sign of all came the next day. The first actual day since Nightmare Moon returned and the Thousand Days of Woe began:

The Sun - weak and red in the dust-filled sky - slowly rose over the horizon.

The Princess of the Sun had not returned yet; perhaps she is still trapped by her sister’s spell. Perhaps another way of escape is being laid. But the light fills the ponies’ hearts with hope.

The Equestria they knew is gone. But the New Equestria has a future.

____

Sunday, Aug.10, 4 A.C.

Dear Journal,

It’s really strange dating things this way; but with everything that’s happened, most folks agree it’ll be easier to date our calendars starting with the fall of Princess Celestia. ‘After Celestia’ sounds so grim, though; kinda hope we change it. Maybe when the Princess returns... we’re praying she does.

Anyway, I still can’t believe we found a whole stock of blank paper in the storerooms! We’re saving most of it for bartering, but Mom thinks it’s smart for one of us to make notes for posterity, so it looks like I get to keep you. I’ll try to be short to save space, but it just feels so good to write again!

The move into the Canterlot ruins ruins is going pretty well. A few other families joined us after our last trip to Apple Fort, and we’ve shored up our defenses in case the air pirates make another flyby. Pop and I negotiated a deal with the Apples - food in exchange for books. A few of the unicorns know replication spells and are using some of the paper to make copies of really important texts so we don’t lose valuable knowledge to an accident. It still blows my mind how much we’ve lost in... was life really normal only a few years ago? It feels like another lifetime that I was in this very city, talking to the Princess, sitting at a normal cafe... eating lunch with Cam and Press...

I don’t want to forget them. Camera Shy and Pressing Matters, my best friends. Maybe they’re still out there somewhere. We run into old friends every now and then - my old traveling salespony gig has come in handy, actually! I’ve found a bunch of people who used to be clients, it really helps with forming trade and peace treaties with other groups. So it could happen. Please, Prince, keep them safe wherever they are.

I’m really blessed, though. I have to remember that. I have Mom and Pop and Black and Per and Chewie - although I’m still not used to Chewie flying and talking now. She’s such a character. Lots of ponies are missing family - so are we, we haven’t been able to find most of the extended family, but Pop got word from Aunt Pitter that she and my cousin Light Drizzle are out west somewhere, and Pitch Apple is down at Apple Fort, thank the King.

And we could be worse! We made friends with a tinkerer named Steam Punk, he made me a new wing that works as good as my old one! (Not a HUGE bar to cross, but it’s still really impressive!) I’m talking him into working with me to start a production house that can make and sell them affordably to other handicapped pegasi. And Mom got her flight back thanks to a gem Black and some other mages crafted. I think she still misses her diving mark, but she’s so brave and optimistic, it really inspires everyone. I wish we could do something for Pop’s horn, but he’s finding other ways to help out. Per is... well, I guess if you’re going to get turned into a pony-dragon, you’d want to be as cheerful about it as Per. Who knows, maybe she’ll still get a cutie mark someday! And Black is fully aware that he looks pretty boss with an eyepatch, the dork. 

There’s rumors that Princess Cadance might be alive and organizing the crystal ponies up North; lots of ponies are heading that way, but I think our group will stay here. There’s a lot of resources in the Canterlot ruins and in the castle, although Black leads the expeditions into the castle because of safety issues. I never knew he was so good at exploration and such; guess there were a few skills he was holding out on us over the years, but turns out he was working for the Princess before! What in Equus, I gave him such an earful for being all secretive about being my bodyguard or whatever. 

I’m running out of page, so I’ll wrap up today. We’re holding a worship service later, Pop and Parson Brown are setting it up. We want to keep focusing on what we have to be thankful for. We are GOING to get through this. The King, the Prince, and the Advocate have not abandoned us, and we have each other. 

~Salespitch

----

Fun Facts About The Wasteland Timeline:

- This was my favorite timeline to draw =D I HAD to get some steampunk stuff in there, although there are definitely Mad Max vibes. The convenient thing about this timeline is that it was a literal blank slate, so I could really get creative with it! I feel like this would make a neat bookmark, what do ya’ll think?

- I tried to reference all the major villains in the picture. Extra shoutout to ReversalMushroom, the patron who sponsored this Alternate Timeline Special, for giving me the ideas for the changeling goo and Tirek’s hoofprints, which were added in during the coloring phase. I think they round it out quite nicely!

- The random bit of Candy Forest over the crevice there is one of the pockets left behind by Discord’s chaos magic going wild. Most ponies avoid it because here’s WEIRD stuff in there, and ponies who go in there usually come out a little weirder themselves. 

- Black lost his eye and half his sunglasses in a fight with some Changelings. He gets on quite well with only one eye, though, and he insists his sunglass-lens eyepatch is going to be the height of eyepatch fashion. (He DOES have a sense of humor in case anyone doubted it. ;) ) Black taught everyone basic survival techniques and does most of the more dangerous tasks.

- Sales lost his wing during Tirek’s rampage; he tried to distract Tirek, but they didn’t have time to make the plan from the Tirek timeline, so he got swatted pretty quickly. On the upside, Tirek lost sight of him and didn’t get his magic. Sales can fly about as well now with his new steampunk wing, which combines technology and magic to mimic low-level pegasus flight (which was where he was at anyway, so he made a great first test subject!) Sales’ main job is  negotiating peaceful trades with other groups.

- Sales Patter (Dad) lost his horn while pushing his wife out of the way of some falling rubble. He insists he was only mediocre at magic anyway, and he doesn’t need a horn to do business! He does miss it, though. He helps their new community with allocating resources.

- Pitch Forward (Mom) lost her magic and cutie mark to Tirek’s onslaught. The gem in her coat simulates flight for her, although not quite at the level she was before. She and Sales joke about how he can almost beat her in a race now. She helps with the kids in their small community and teaches flying techniques to pegasi.

- Pitch Perfect got hit with a random blast of Discord magic that turned her half dragon. It took a little getting used to, but she honestly thinks it is super neat. She’s pretty good at sniffing out gems now, which (when she isn’t eating them) helps with family finances. Her friends Codebreak and Castle Crasher are part of their little community, and the three are constantly getting into trouble (which most everyone silently thinks of as a nice bit of familiarity.)

- Chewie ALSO got Discord’d; she has fairy wings now and she can talk. Chewie still likes Sales the best and hovers around him chattering like Navi half the time. The other half of the time she forgets she has wings and just hops around exploring. At this point she’s become less like a pet and more like another tiny sister, to Per’s delight and everyone else’s raised anxiety levels. She is VERY aware of her surroundings and alerts the group to intruders and strangers. She really misses computer games.

- Princess Celestia will eventually return, although by that time I feel that the various groups gathering together will have formed something like a decent society again. It remains to be seen if they’ll go back to a monarchy, create a government of connected micronations, or turn into something like the United States.

- And yes, Camera Shy, Pressing Matters, and Press’s husband Curler are all alive. They’ll meet up someday!

---

A/N: Thank you all for joining me on this journey through time and space to explore the seven MLP timelines and where Sales & Co might have ended up in them! I hope you enjoyed it; I had a good bit of fun coming up with the different scenarios, it was a great brain exercise. =D Thank you again to all my Patrons, and to ReversalMushroom for sponsoring this particular special! There will be a final post next week of all the pictures together, with links back to their storyline posts.

I also want to thank you for bearing with me as the regular updates continue to be on hiatus. This has been a rough and strange year for all of us, and I hope you all are safe and healthy and know that you are loved. Jesus has really been with me through this year, and even tonight as I write this; there are things I struggle with, but I know that they do not define my value, HE does. =) And I, like Sales, want to count my blessings, the biggest one (aside from my faith in God) being that I have family around me who love me and care for me. I’m very much looking forward to Christmas! =D  

Merry Christmas! May your Christmas and New Year contain joy and peace, and may Christ Jesus rest His hands on you and draw your heart to His. In Jesus’ Name, amen.

~River Babble

[lilhawkeye3]

Black Coffee & Sugary Sweets - Part 3

Rating: T |||| Word Count: ~1k |||| The Mandalorian Café AU |||| AO3 Link

Summary: “Paint Sketch me like one of your French girls boys, Jack Bri”

A/N: Paz is thicc & Bri has noticed and that’s all you need to know for this chapter lmao

Masterlist

On slow days, Bri pulls out her sketch pad from under the counter and adds a new doodle to the hand-bound pages. Sometimes she’d use one of her newly-made pastries as her model, other times, she’d try to quietly sketch one of the patrons as they sat at their seats, drinking their morning brew.

Today though, she does her best to draw from memory. Paz’s smile is easy for her to do, drawing the rounded curve of his lips and crinkles at the corner of his eyes. The shape of his eyes though gave her grief, and she’d already erased and started over again three times. She taps the eraser end of her pencil against her temple and sighed heavily. Maybe he was just too pretty to put to paper?

“I could pose for you if that’d be easier.”

This time, Bri does shriek and reel backwards at Paz’s sudden appearance, but his hand shoots out quickly and grips her forearm to keep her upright. Her eyes widen and she looks up to find herself staring into his dark eyes.

His initial teasing grin fades as he took in her startled appearance. “Bri?”

“Ahhh... yeah?” She responds, voice rising high as her brain tries to catch up to what’s going on. “I mean, yes! Yes, I’d like that. Very much.”

“Wait, really?” Paz’s brows rise dramatically, but he tries quickly to recover, bringing his free hand up to rub sheepishly at his jaw. “Just let me know when.”

Bri feels her face grow warm at his obvious willingness. “Well, it is slow this morning… You could pull up a bar chair to the counter and sit here?” She offers, trying to seem nonchalant. Paz watches her carefully for a moment before dipping his head in a nod. The deviation of his gaze finally has him realize he was still holding her arm, and he lets go with a rush of apologies that Bri easily accepts. The sudden absence of his touch has her missing his warmth as he goes to move one of the tall stools. In the meantime, she focuses on fixing Paz’s usual drink, and tries to ignore the way her hands are trembling in anticipation.

It settles her nerves when she sees Paz’s hands shaking as much as hers when she hands over his black coffee with an unhealthy amount of sugar.

He asks her questions about her hobby as she picks up her pencil again and gets to work. It has Bri fighting to keep from bouncing in her excitement at his genuine interest in her art. His eyes hold a curious spark as he watches her in her element, scratching the graphite in precise lines as it slowly forms the shape of his face.

It’s hard to stay focused though when Bri keeps peeking up through her lashes to find her model trying to not be caught staring at her. She wonders if this is what art feels like, to be beheld and revered with such open awe and wonder.

His voice is a soothing soundtrack as she loses herself in her art, tongue peeking between her teeth as she hones her precise skills to make her immortalization of him look as perfect as possible. She paused when needed in order to service the few customers that did show up that morning, and it caused her to swell with pride when they all commented positively on her rendition of Paz.

Of course, his opinion would be most important, but so far she’s been blocking his line of sight in order to keep her finished sketch a complete surprise.

It’s only at the end, when Bri’s preparing to doodle a symbol by his name, that she draws a blank. She’s learned a lot about him in the past hour: he has a kitten named Blue that he adopted and is the main feature of his phone camera roll, he goes hiking in his free time and is trying a new trail this weekend, he’s trying to teach himself to play guitar solely with Youtube videos because he’s “not a good singer,” something to which Bri is highly doubtful of but she encourages his learning all the same.

But… none of that feels right. She’s pretty sure none of that is the reason that the universe decided to drop him into her lap.

“Hey, Paz?”

He’d been looking out the store front windows, watching the morning work crowd scurry by to their posts, but he turns towards her easily with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Why did you start coming here?” Bri asks, obvious confusion clear in her voice. She hopes it doesn’t sound like an attack– she’s just genuinely curious at this point.

Paz rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Did I never mention?”

“My best guess is ‘leather jacket model.’”

His laugh is quite honestly her favorite sound. “I’m a construction worker; I supervise a site nearby.” He glances down as an afterthought, tugging on the open collar of his jacket. “This was a gift from a friend who works with me actually, but I’ll let them know it was a good one.”

Bri bites her lip and hopes the heat rising to her cheeks isn’t enough to give away what she’s about to say. “They should get you a matching set of leather pants next time to accentuate your features.”

Seeing his eyes go wide in response was completely worth the risk, and Bri doubles over in laughter at the way his mouth falls open in shock. A slow, hopeful smile spreads across his face.

“Two can play at that game,” he warns, and she knows he’s giving her an out.

Instead, she crosses her arms on the countertop and leans forward. “Always more fun than playing solo.”

He leaves a few minutes later in a rush, racing to make it to his shift on time after having stayed longer than he originally planned. Bri’s a bit glad she hadn’t finished the sketch by then, because now she has a chance to add some color to it before tomorrow morning.

It’s a lively yet mischievous dance they’re waltzing, not trying to trip each other up, but rather seeing if they can get each other to stumble briefly and grab on tighter. In fact, she feels a bit like a peacock, putting on her best and most colorful show in order to attract a mate.

...though, she considered after some thought, that made her and Paz two birds of a feather!

[deans-baby-momma]

Wounded Hearts 2

Summary: When John Winchester leaves his two high school-aged sons in a motel in Fairfax, IN while he goes off on a hunt, they both make friends. What happens after they have to suddenly leave when John comes to fetch them. Will those friendships endure? Does Dean leave a piece of his soul behind?

Word Count: 3,408

A/N: This is a sequel to Past Haunts, but it’s mostly what happened in the thirteen years between high school and when Sam and Dean return to take care of a haunting in their old stomping grounds of Truman High. The first couple of chapters will be mainly Dean’s POV and then after that, each chapter will switch from Dean’s POV to Rebecca’s POV. I will label them appropriately.

Rebecca’s POV

The walk home is kind of uncomfortable. My crotch is sensitive and tender and these jeans are not helping at all. I think over what just happened. I just gave my virginity to Dean Winchester. The boy who came out of nowhere and walked the school halls like he owned the place. I briefly thought about how just last week he was all about Amanda Heckling,  the popular girl, the head cheerleader. Had he fucked her too? They had seemed hot and heavy for a minute but then, just as quickly as he showed up, they were over and he was proclaiming to the halls that he was a hero. Had he taken Amanda's virginity too? 

I shake my head and huff a laugh. No way was Amanda Heckerling a virgin. Not since freshman year at least.  She had been caught with her pants down, literally, with Justin Scott in her bedroom. So, no Dean definitely hadn't taken Amanda's innocence. 

As soon as I get home I rush to the bedroom to change out of my- now damp from the remnants of what had transpired between me and Dean- panties. Thankfully it's just my cum filling my underwear; Dean had wrapped it up before he fucked me.

I change quickly, wadding my ruined panties into a ball and stuffing them to the bottom of the hamper. My mom yells that dinner is ready and I pause, taking a breath and praying that neither she nor dad can sense the change in me. I'm no longer their innocent little girl but a woman, an adult capable of safely fornicating.

I can feel their stares,  hear their whispers as I walk to my locker. Does everyone know? Are all my classmates aware that I am no longer pure  and virginal Rebecca Quentin. Do they know that I oh so easily gave it up to Dean Winchester? Or am I just imagining it all?

I grab my books and sign in then take my regular seat in Mrs. Meadows' English Lit class. My heart is pounding in my ears,  knowing that shortly Dean would walk through the door.  Would he sit beside me, like he did Amanda? Would he ask me to be his girlfriend? I mean, we've already done the deed so that's the next step, right? Ok, so our steps are a little misconstrued but so what?

I hear him before I see him, his heavy army-style boots stomping down the hallway. As soon as he enters the room, my breath catches in my throat. I'd always thought Dean was good-looking but now? Damn is he sexy as hell! I can't help but turn away to hide the blush on my face as I remember his touch and how it felt to have him inside me. My heart drops as he passes by the empty desk beside me to take his seat at the back of the room. Dammit, maybe it wasn't as special to him as it had been to me. Maybe he was used to defiling girls and then acting as if they didn't exist.  As Mrs. Meadows calls for attention I vow to confront him at lunch. Hopefully we can have a quiet discussion and not cause a scene.

By the time the bell rings for lunch, I am a nervous wreck. The more I thought about it, the less I wanted to address the obvious elephant in the school. Dean Winchester conned his way into my pants; pretending to be a gentleman and noble when in all reality he was a fraud, a hustler. Watching him with his little brother yesterday, how he had made sure Sam was well-fed and taken care of had to have been a ruse! Just a way to get me to let my guard down and then he struck when that window of opportunity opened; like a snake,  a conniving devious snake. 

Deciding I can't civilly accost Dean, I make my way to the vending machines. I'll just go to the motel after school and talk to him then. I just hope he hasn't duped his next victim there. That's what I feel like; a victim, a casualty of the trickster that is Dean Winchester. I scan the lunchroom as I enter but see no sign of Dean or his brother Sam. I sigh in relief as I don't think I could handle being ignored again. I sit at a table in the corner and open my bags of chips. 

The rest of my classes were dull and lackluster. I just couldn't concentrate on anything any of my teachers were saying. The concept that Dean was ignoring and avoiding me was breaking me, was breaking my heart and soul. I wanted to know why. Why did he choose me? Why did he have to defile what could have been an incredible friendship? Maybe even a wonderful and dare I say loving relationship. Did getting the privilege of saying he slept with me mean more to him than that? The more I thought about it, the angrier I got until I had furiously scribbled a hole into the paper on my desk. I was going to that motel after school and finding out!

When the last bell sounds, I gather my books and head to my locker. I look morosely at locker #214, the one Dean had been assigned. It was only a few down from mine. I hadn't seen him all day; not since he so openly ignored me during first period. It is painfully obvious he was avoiding me. Well I am going to put a stop to that. I march out of the building and head down the same path we had walked yesterday, straight to the place it all went downhill,  room 7 at the Motel Monroe.

A few hours later

I knock on the door and wait. And the longer I wait, the more upset I get. How dare Dean ignore and avoid me and act like I don't exist in his world. Yesterday, he acted as if he made me believe he was interested in being my friend, if not more and today I'm nobody? 

I'm not a nobody. I get perfect grades and in less than a year I will be moving away, going to college and in a few short years graduate with a master's in psychology and on my way to becoming one of the best behavioral counselors in the country.  I have plans and dreams; I'm not just some girl to pass the time with. 

After a few minutes and another knock, there is still no answer. I step to the window to see inside but the curtain is closed tight. 'Oh no you don't, Dean Winchester,' I think silently. 'You are not hiding from me. We are going to hash this out like adults.' I walked toward the manager's office to find out if there is a way to get him to open the door. Instead I find devastating news when the manager tells me, "They cleared out about 3 hours ago."

I walk away from the motel,  the place I lost my virginity in with tears threatening to roll down my face. Will I ever see him again?

Eight weeks later

Time is a fickle thing. Some days it seems to rush by while others it seems to just stand still and turn stagnant. 

After finding out that the Winchesters had left town, I turned my attention back to my studies. I only had a few more months until I'd be graduating high school and moving on to bigger, brighter things. 

Thanksgiving had come and gone and now we are all hurtling toward Christmas and the almost two weeks off from school. The whole school is abuzz with excitement and enthusiasm for the break. Me? I am just going through the motions. I had gotten ill a few days ago, puking my guts up and just feeling horrible. Whatever it is, I wish it would just run its course already. I am tired of feeling weak and feeble. 

Today is the school's last day before Christmas break and I was just looking forward to being able to lay around and let the flu or pneumonia or whatever gets its claws into me. Something grabs my attention and I look at the calendar hanging beside my desk. A big old red circle is around the 4th, the day I should've started my period. I grab the calendar and turn it back to November and see another big red circle. Two months. Two missed periods. And I know that they are missed because every time I start I always draw a line through the circle and these two circles have no lines.  What the hell? I try to remember having my period in November but I am coming up blank. The last period I remember was in October,  the first part of October.  I remember because it was right after my Mom's birthday. I turn the page and yep, October 5th has a circle with a line through it. So why didn't I mark through November's and December's? I scan through the month of October and my eyes land on the 14th. 

The day I spent with the Winchesters, the day I lost my virginity to Dean, the day that…..oh fuck. Oh god no!

At school, I can’t concentrate on anything. My calculus teacher calls on me and I don’t hear her. The words ‘I’m pregnant’ keep repeating over and over in my head. I can’t be pregnant. I only had sex once. But once is all it takes, I tell myself. 

I get through the rest of the day, barely, and by the time the last bell rings I am a nervous wreck. I know what I need to do. I have to go to the pharmacy and buy a test. But everyone knows everyone in this town and I know old Mrs. Wilson will tell my parents that she sold me a pregnancy test. 

Walking into the drugstore I am praying and hoping that Mrs. Wilson possibly has the day off and someone else is working her shift but no such luck. As soon as I walk in she sees me and smiles. I return the smile and walk down the farthest aisle from the one I need.  As I trek slowly through the store, pretending that I am looking at different things, I come up with a plan. I’ll just take one off the shelves and ask to use the bathroom. 

When I get to the correct aisle I feel overwhelmed. There are so many! Different brands, different processes. I find one that looks easy enough; what is more easier than just peeing on a stick? Stuffing the box in my bag, I head toward the front of the store, grabbing a package of maxi pads on my way.

“Hello Rebecca,” Mrs. Wilson greets me. “How are you today?”

“Hi Mrs. Wilson. I’m good. Listen, is there anyway I can, uh...use the facilities here?” I ask as I show her the maxi pads. She nods in understanding and points me toward the bathroom.

I quickly shut and lock the door and lean against it, taking a breath. ‘Come on Rebecca. You can do this.’ I think to myself. ‘It might even be negative. Could be something completely different wrong with me.’

I pull the box out of my bag and step toward the toilet. I know I don’t have that much time before Mrs. Wilson comes to check on me. Pulling the test out of the box, I quickly read the directions. 

1. Pee on stick

2. Wait 5 minutes.

3. Two lines means pregnant; one line means not pregnant.

Ok simple enough. I do as instructed and place the stick on the sink. This is going to be the longest five minutes in history!

How can something so inconsequential as a piece of plastic change your whole life? Plastic is nothing but synthetic polymers that can be molded into whatever is needed. In this instance, this piece of plastic was sculpted into a thin white stick with a window on the end. And in that window was life-altering news. Two pink lines. 

I stare at the test for what seemed like forever. I’m pregnant. I am only a few months away from turning 18, graduating high school and going off to college. Yet, here I am carrying Dean Winchester’s illegitimate child. I place my hand on my still flat stomach and look in the mirror. “I’m pregnant,” I whisper to my reflection. I didn’t even realize I am crying until I see the tears streaming down my face.

Hearing Mrs. Wilson heading my way, I hurry and wipe my face clean and pick up the positive test, sticking it in my pocket. I open the package of pads and take one out and cram the unused one into the bottom of the trash can. At least, that way it will look like I used one and not raise any suspicions with the old busybody.

After paying for the one item I won’t be needing for a while, I leave the store and head home. How am I going to tell my parents that I’m pregnant? Of course they're going to want to know everything. Well, maybe not everything. They know how babies are made, they have me after all. But they are going to ask a million questions. Who’s the father? Where is he now? Does he know? Is he going to be a man and step up? I only know the answer to one of those. Dean Winchester is the father. That’s all I know. He used me and then up and disappeared the very next day.

I get home and am relieved that both my parents aren’t home yet. I have a few more minutes to come to terms with the fact of my situation myself. I run upstairs to my room and fall onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow. While I am alone, I decide to go ahead and get it out. The anger, the frustration, the heartache. 

I am 17 years old, a senior in high school and pregnant by a boy who split in no time afterwards. The tears come instantaneously. How am I going to be able to fulfill my dream of going to college and becoming a psychologist? I can’t be raising a kid while going through years of study at Harvard to get my bachelor’s plus an internship. By the time I’d be done with all that my child is going to be at least 10 years old.

Damn him! Damn him and his boyish charms and his mesmerizing green eyes and his sexy as hell body. 

“Damn you Dean Winchester! I hate you. I wish I’d never met you,” I scream into the fluffy cushion. “I hope wherever you are that your dick falls off and you can’t do this to some other poor girl!”

Fuck, is all I can think. How many girls had he done this to? How many illegitimate babies did he have? He had said his family traveled a lot so there were probably girls all over who were pregnant or had bared his offspring. 

"Fuck," I sigh. "If I get an STD because of him I'll hunt him down and kill him," I growled. I begin punching the pillow, pretending it is Dean’s face. I can’t believe him. How dare he take advantage of me like that!

But then I realize, he didn’t take advantage; I clearly gave him exactly what he wanted. ‘Dumbass! I am such a dumbass. I walked right into his trap and didn’t even understand what I was getting into. I was so dumbfounded and surprised that he wanted to talk to and hang out with me that I just followed him along like a lost puppy. And then I gave him the one thing that I could never get back. All because of a few words and some attention. How much of an idiot am I?’

Shaking my head at my stupidity I head to the bathroom to clean off my face and get prepared to confess to my parents. They are going to be so disappointed in me. It’s going to break their hearts. I’ve been talking about going to Harvard and becoming a psychologist since I was in middle school and now that is just a pipe dream. It won’t ever come true now. 

I don’t have much of an appetite so I just push my food around on my plate. I feel bad about it because Mom had rushed home from work and went straight to cooking and now my stomach is all twisted up and I can’t eat.  It looks like they are about to be finished with their dinner so I decided no better time than the present.

“Mom? Dad?” I begin. “We need to talk.”

“What is it sweetie?” My dad says as he gets up to put his plate in the sink. “Did you get a C in class or something?” he turns back to the table with a jesting grin on his face. “You know you don’t have to be completely perfect in everything.”

Mom and Dad have been telling me for years that I was pushing myself too hard. That it doesn't matter to them if I get straight A’s or not as long as I don’t fail. But I wanted to prove to them, and myself, that I could. And so far I had; I am only a few credits shy of graduating high school with honors. 

“Oh, I’m not perfect,” I tell him, looking down at my hands in my lap. “Far from it actually. I-uh-I have some not so good news. You might even call it upsetting news.” 

My parents both look at me, perplexed. Mom speaks up first, “What is it Rebecca? Are you dying? Do you have cancer or something?” 

Leave it up to Mom to think about a worse-case scenerio. Of course in her mind, the most distressing would be that I only had a few months to live. Which, in this case, it’s kinda true. A few more months and life as I know it is over.

I pull the positive pregnancy test out of my hoodie pocket and lay it in the middle of the table. Clear as day, anyone can see what it is. My dad suddenly sits down and puts his head in his hands and Mom…well, Mom stands up, looks at me with pity and walks out of the dining room. A few minutes later, I hear their bedroom door slam shut. 

The commotion brings Dad out of his stupor and he looks up at me. “How did this happen, Rebecca?” I quirk an eyebrow at him at the absurdity of his question. “I mean, I know how it happened. When?”

“Back in October. I hung out with this guy and his little brother and we watched a movie and ate pizza and popcorn. After the movie was over, his brother wanted to go to the arcade and it left me and Dean in the room, alone. One thing just led to another.” I finish with a shrug of my shoulders.

And just like I assumed, Dad begins badgering me with questions. “Who is he? Does he know about the baby yet? Is he going to step up and take care of it and you?”

I sigh before I answer. “His name is Dean. Dean Winchester. No, he doesn’t know and probably never will. He and his brother were staying in the motel across town while their dad was working. He’s gone now. Left the day after. I don’t know how to get in touch with him.”

Dad and I sat there in silence after I told him about Dean and how he was no longer around. I can see the steps of processing Dad is going through on his face. At first he is angry, livid even. Then he is just mad. But what breaks my heart is when my dad looks at me and all I can see is disappointment. 

I feel like such a failure. I failed my parents and myself the moment I allowed Dean to come into my life. The moment I had sex with him. 

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam  @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @deanwanddamons @supraveng @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @markofdean79 @travelingriversideblues-x @akshi8278 @keymology  @natura1phenomenon​ @drakelover78​ 

[perriewinklenerdie]

Stars on the canvas (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N:  Hello, hello, hello! How are we feeling, how's the wife, how's the kids? I rewrote the ideas for this fic at least three times, cause *nothing* was feeling right. And then I got smacked with this... something, yeah, let's call it that.

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25536652

Tag list: @paleweasels, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian, @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements,  @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @justanotherrookie 

  Enjoy! <3

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

„Let’s get those tests run in the morning. Great job, now go home and get some rest. We’ll pick it up tomorrow.” His glasses landed on the table as he said that, gathering the papers that got scattered around him during the meeting.

June was the first one to stand up, leaning down to whisper something to Claire, both of them laughing, after which, she left. Baz was next, bumping fists with the youngest doctor on the team along with throwing a cheesy joke as he walked out of the room.

She hasn’t moved yet, keeping her eyes on research in front of her. She was determined to make sure she had all the facts in her head, that nothing escaped their attention and that she could pick up the case tomorrow morning when she got to work. Her focus, however, suddenly started to falter, at the exact moment in which she felt a pair of eyes on the side of her face. He didn’t say a word, just looked at her in perfect silence.

Claire only intended to look at him for one moment, but as their gazes met, she found herself unable to look away, being locked in a stare that could swallow her whole. Blindly, she closed the book she was reading, then reclined in her seat, a subtle question in her eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” it seemed like a simple enough question in her head, but as soon as she said it, she realized that it was far more complex. Ethan’s face, previously blank and stoic, was now lit up with a gentle smile, reaching and overtaking his blue eyes.

The openness of his actions was surprising to her, even more when he, very hesitantly, like he was afraid she’d run away if he made a wrong move, allowed their fingers to brush against one another before tangling them together, equally slowly and delicately. Claire looked at their hands, her face mirroring his.

It wasn’t an unwelcome move on his part, just a bit unexpected. Some time has passed since the night of the game; since the walls he’d put in place had crumbled like his ability to deny what he very clearly was feeling. While it allowed him to sleep easier at night, without the constant burden of the everyday struggle, it hasn’t meant that he did anything specific about it since that evening. Yes, they were comfortable around each other once again; yes, smiling came easier to him; yes, he’s been thinking about kissing her more than he was willing to admit. Now that he was thinking about it, maybe it was time to do something.

“At what time does your shift end?” he asked, looking up at her. She glanced at the clock on the wall behind him, then brought her gaze back onto him.

“Ten minutes ago.” Her reply was colored by a cheeky grin that got even wider when Ethan smiled mischievously, standing up without letting go of her hand. “Why?”

----------

At first, there was almost complete darkness; so much so, that she could barely make out the outlines of her surroundings. Then the stage lights pierced it, clean lines cutting the dim cloth into pieces. Music joined in soon after, coming in stages. A lone piano, its notes jumping gently across the air; then the strings, weaving their way in between the melody, one by one. Drums appeared later, just in time to uphold the harmony and carry it on. People around them were engrossed in the story from the moment it started, and as actors began appearing on stage, one could see how everyone leaned forward, utterly captivated.

The Opera House.

Claire hasn’t learned Italian since the last time she was there, so the moment the play started, Ethan leaned in and started narrating it for her. It was one of his favorites; that’s why he’s seen it a couple of times. That allowed him to translate and describe to her what was happening on stage without having to look away from her or focusing on it too much. It was the two of them, the music, and his voice in her ear.

Ethan’s full attention was captivated by the way she was engaged in the play while listening and registering what he was telling her. Her facial expressions, the sparkle in her eye, how her fingers tapped on the arm rest of her seat to the beat of the piece they were hearing; they were all casting a spell on him, and what started as him being relatively far away from her, ended with his lips brushing against the shell of her ear with each word he spoke. He couldn’t really tell if it had any impact on her, but it sure had an impact on him.

The lights came back on, announcing the break in the show. Ethan, albeit reluctantly, leaned back into his seat, though he was still looking at her. Her eyes, however, were trained on the stage, all the elements now clearly visible.

“If you look closely at the background, you’ll see the Aquila constellation.” He said after noticing how closely she was looking at the bright spots on the navy canvas. She turned towards him, her eyebrow up in a silent question, clearly out of her element.

Without a moment of hesitation or even thinking about what he was doing, he took her hand and guided her index finger over the sparkling dots, drawing out a shape of an eagle.

He heard people describing touching ‘the right person’ as feeling all bubbly inside. Ethan always found it irritating and downright idiotic. That is, until he touched Claire. He wouldn’t describe it in the same words (he was far too serious and smart for that), but he had an idea of what they meant. His knees went weak and his breathing got elevated. At the beginning, he felt like a fool, but as time went on, he got accustomed to it. He never got used to it, though; he wouldn’t let himself get used to it. That would mean that he also came to terms with his feelings, and at that time it was still a touchy subject.

Now, holding her hand, experiencing the symptoms didn’t scare him or make him feel uncomfortable. To his surprise, he started noticing the same reactions in her. He could hear her breathing getting faster; he could feel her pulse jumping beneath his thumb. His head turned to the side so he could look at her, the movement causing her to mirror his actions. His eyes, recklessly, dropped to her lips, lingering there for a moment too long. She opened her mouth to take a shaky breath, which worked like a charm that broke through the daze he was in. Their gazes met, his determination with her hesitation.

“Are you-“

All the remaining thoughts in her head were wiped clean the second his lips touched hers. They pressed gently and then they were gone. The look in his eyes spelled uncertainty and asked all the questions, to which she gave a barely noticeable nod. His lips are back on hers immediately, much surer this time, though still soft and careful. He’s afraid to jump into it, afraid to overwhelm her or himself with he intensity and the rush.

His other hand slid up her arm, resting on her shoulder, steadying himself against the tide that approached him. As the kiss went on, she inched closer to him, until her fingers ran up to his jaw and her knees touched his. Very faintly, they would be able to hear three warning bells, announcing the end of a break, if they had enough will to focus on anything other than one another. They didn’t notice it, though, so when the lights went out once more, they broke the kiss, surprise on their features. It took them a long moment to orient themselves in their surroundings, noticing with some difficulty that the show had started.

“What were you going to say?” he asked breathlessly, unable to keep the smile off his face. Claire’s answer took her a moment to formulate, during which she ran her thumb up and down the line of his cheekbone.

“I was going to ask if you’re ready, but you kinda answered before I could finish the question.”

“I’m nothing if not an overachiever.” He smirked, squeezing her hand gently as his face gained certainty in its features. “I am. Ready, I mean.”

She nodded softly, turning back towards the stage, pulling on his hand to bring him closer. “You better have more of those kisses for me after the show is over, then.”

[rikumorimachisgirl]

Title: Seal the Deal

Characters: Bokuto x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1,848

Author's note: So, I haven't written in a long time and I know I'm kinda rusty. Please bear with me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Haikyuu!! and the characters, but I own the plot for this fic.

'Congratulations! You have been selected as one of the winners in the Bouncing Ball Corp's Monster Generation giveaway. A limited-edition Nendoroid and a special surprise will arrive at your delivery address. Please confirm if you are available to receive this tomorrow by responding to this message. Thank you.'

You must've read the text message over a hundred times in the last twenty-four hours, but it still made your heart skip a beat. Setting your phone down, you stood up and tried to straighten up the flat that you had just moved into last month. It wasn't much - a cozy one-bedroom apartment with a small living area, which usually doubled as your dining area on days when you could eat a nice meal at home. It certainly was a far cry from the lavish three-bedroom apartment you once shared with your ex-boyfriend, but at least it was easier to clean. 

Your ex-boyfriend - the wild, and oh-so-adorable big baby you'd loved since high school, the same one who broke your heart a few months back when he couldn't choose between you and the sport he loves, and the reason you sent in several entries to the Bouncing Ball Corp's giveaway. You sighed. If your friends found out you'd won a limited edition Nendoroid of that same person they had worked so hard to help you get over, you knew you'd be done for. But how exactly does one get over the sweet summer storm that is Kotaro Bokuto? And besides, you thought, at least a Nendoroid won't leave you unless you throw it out. 

** Ding-dong **

The sound of your doorbell snapped you back to your senses. "Just a minute," you called out as you quickly tied your hair and hurried to the door in an oversized sweater and shorts. You could feel your heart beat faster at the thought that your precious Nendoroid was within reach. 'Oh, and the text message said there was a special surprise, too,' you thought quietly. Maybe, if you were lucky, you'll also get his signed jersey. That wouldn't be so bad, you thought again as you unlocked the door and pulled it open. 

You gasped, as the person waiting right outside the door greeted you with the warmest smile and his signature line. 

"Hey, hey, he -," he paused halfway through upon seeing you. "Y/N-chan?"

Hearing him say your name almost made you cry. You had missed how he always managed to make it sound so beautiful. You also missed his naughty smirk that usually came with calling your name. As you gazed at your reflection in his golden eyes, you wondered if - like you - this beautiful man thought of you, too. You had no idea how long you've been looking at each other, but it wasn't until you heard your neighbor's baby crying that you both shook yourselves out of your reverie.

"Oh, uh.  Did you need anything?" You asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

"Yes, I'm here to personally deliver the prize from Kenma. Kuroo asked to go, and this was the address he gave…," your ex-boyfriend said as he fumbled over his phone, looking for the exact message his friend has given. Glancing back and forth his phone and the number on the door, he scratched the back of his head. "See, it says 2404 -"

"Yes, Bokuto-san, I won the contest," you finally admitted, as you felt a blush slowly creep up your cheeks. 

"You did?" He flashed you a dazzling smile, his eyes sparkled and you looked away. When he noticed your eyes move to the paper bag he was carrying, he cleared his throat. "Uh… yeah, this is for you…"

"Uh, thanks," you replied shyly, as you took the paper bag containing the Nendoroid of the very same person you were talking to now. Your gaze darted from his handsome face to the suddenly empty hall outside your flat, and you could tell he was feeling just as awkward. "So, uh…"

"So, uh, this is where you moved to?" He asked as he took a step forward to peek inside your humble abode. 

"Uh-huh," you replied. "I-I'd invite you in, but…"

"Don't mind if I do," he said, stepping inside your pad. Even with his back facing you, you could tell that he was surveying your space, and you felt more and more flustered by the minute. "You have a microwave. I need to get me one of those."

"You have a microwave, Bokuto-san. It's top-of-the-line, and it was working fine when I moved out," you quipped, as you watched him from behind. 

"Was it? Then I must've destroyed it the other day when I tried to use it to heat water," he said casually, as he looked around your pad some more.

"Your couch looks comfortable. I should probably buy one for my bedroom."

"What's wrong with the sectional? If I remember correctly, you had it customized by Fendi," you retorted. 

"Did I? There must've been a reason I did, but I can't remember," he muttered, turning his attention to the wall.  "Oh, this is a nice painting. I need one of these."

"That's just a painting I bought at a trift shop," you said, cocking an eyebrow at your tall ex-lover. "You have original Murukamis on your walls, Bokuto-san. We bought three of them in the fundraiser that Kuroo hosted."

"Oh. Of course," he sighed. "It's just that… well, your place is -"

"Small?" 

"No, it's not that," he responded, as he gazed upward as if trying to find the right word. 

"Tiny? Minuscule? Compact?" 

"Hey, those all mean the same thing," he whined before plopping down on your couch. You quietly watched as he leaned back and stretched out his legs, trying hard not to bump the coffee table, but he still managed to do so. Something about the scene before you were so endearing, you found yourself smiling before you could stop yourself. And right about that time, your dashing ex-lover happened to look at you and smile back. Lifting his hand out to you, he said, "I'm just saying your new place sorta gives off a certain kind of vibe, you know."

Raising an eyebrow, you stared at his hand and thought twice about taking it. It wasn't like you never held hands before, but now that you've broken up, it all seems so weird. 

But you wanted to take it. Oh, how you've imagined holding his hand a thousand times since you broke up, so just before he pulled away, you moved forward to grab it, and fell on his lap in the process. As you struggled to stand up, the dashing MSBY Outside Hitter put his arm around your waist to keep you from budging. "Ah, now this scene looks awfully familiar."

"Stop it, Bokuto-san," you said, hitting him on the chest so he could loosen his grip on you a little bit. 

"Oh, but don't you think seeing each other after several months is fate?"

"More like a certain capitalist's underhanded scheme," you retorted, as you tried to wiggle your way out of his grasp. 

"Just… just let me hold you a little longer, Y/N-chan… please?" 

You stopped squirming as you listened to his silent plea, and you slowly turned your eyes met his. "Bokuto-san…"

"You could do better than that," he said, as he lifted one hand and traced the side of your face with his long fingers. "I… I missed you, Y/N-chan. I know this was all my fault, I just didn't think you'd up and leave."

"That's what usually happens when you say you love your career more than your girlfriend, Kotaro," you managed to reply, as you thought back to that fateful night when you had come home from attending another one of your friends' wedding stag because he had practice. He was watching one of their games against the Adlers, paying close attention to Ushijima and Kageyama's quick attacks when you sat beside him and recounted how beautiful the ceremony was and how much more fun it would've been if he had attended it with you. He'd usually humor you - asking you to tell him what you liked best about it, how the food was, and listen intently to what you had to say - but lately, he'd neither had the patience not the drive to hear you out and on that night, you weren't having it either. After your stories were met with silence, you decided enough was enough. And on that same evening, you called your old roommate to let her know you were staying over. 

"I didn't mean it like that, Y/N-chan. I was under a lot of pressure before," he said, drawing you away from your thoughts. "I was under a lot of pressure. You knew a lot was riding on winning the championships."

As he looked at your blank expression, he huffed and pouted. "I know, I know… I could've chased after you - and believe me, I wanted to, but… uh..," he trailed off.

"But I wasn't your priority," you deadpanned. 

"To be honest, I thought you'd come back the next day, and when you didn't…"

"You got angry and thought you shouldn't come after me?"

"No… more like I thought you'd come back the day after or the day after that, and before I realized it, so much time has passed and it was too late to chase after you…"

"So you decided not to?" You watched as he nodded silently, admitting defeat, and you sighed. If this were someone else, you would easily doubt what he said was true, but this guy wouldn't lie to you if his life depended on it. The tightness you had felt in your chest started to ease up, and rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue. "That's so like you, Bokuto-san."

"And there's no one else but you for me, Y/N-chan," he replied, holding you steady in his arms. "So, what do you say, do you think you can give me another shot at this?"

"At what exactly?"

"At this," he gestured to the both of you. "At us. Please? I'll be a better boyfriend. I'll attend all the parties you want to go to, or I'll listen to whatever you want to say to me - even when you repeat it several times, I'll do whatever you want, Y/N-chan, so please…"

You could feel your heart melt as he pleaded with you, and you silently scolded yourself at having your resolve crushed so easily. You knew your friends were probably not going to be happy, but you also knew no one else would do for you. 

"Y/N-chan?"

You sighed and turned your attention back to him. "I suppose you are cuter than the Nendoroid," you said haughtily. 

"So, will you date me again?"

"As long as you promise I'm your priority from now on."

He squeezed you to his chest and squealed. "You don't need to worry because you're the only one that matters," he said before his lips met yours to seal the deal. 

The end. 

[vodkassassin]

9, because NB might die and that's hilarious to me.

You enjoy NB’s suffering too much, Cher 😂💕

Snippet: Desmond BAMF (assassins creed)

Two semi trucks and one red volvo have already passed him by, but Desmond is patient. He’s had a lot of practice with waiting for things. He’d waited to leave the Farm. He’d waited for a real life for himself outside of the “cult” he’d been raised in. He’d waited for a chance to get off the streets. He’d waited through all the memories of his ancestors. He’d waited for whatever message the precursors had for him, whatever solution.

To Desmond, it seems like he’d been waiting his entire life. He isn’t even sure what for, anymore. Then, he’d died, so… he supposes that it doesn’t actually matter, in the end.

Maybe he’d been waiting to die.

Another semi truck comes veering down the desolate highway. The squeal of the breaks kicking into gear catches his attention, and Desmond gives his himself a mental shake. He watches the truck roll slowly to a stop before him, and stares up at the passenger door. It flings itself open after a moment, and the driver peers down at him.

“Hop in,” the man says amiably, with the unconcerned air of someone who is in no way new at this. This isn’t his first hitchhiker, Desmond assumes.

The driver crawls back, and the young time traveler wraps his hand around the bar on the side of the truck and hauls himself up into the cabin. He pulls the heavy door shut behind him, and gives the trucker a quirk of his lips once in the seat.

“Thanks,” Desmond says, because he may be an assassin, but he is an assassin with manners.

“No problem,” the trucker says, pushing the clutch into second gear and urging the semi back onto it’s journey. “Name’s Raoul.”

“Denny,” he supplies in turn. “Bet that’s familiar enough to remember, huh?”

Raoul laughs. “A trucker’s paradise, huh? Eh, I’m more of an Applebee’s guy.”

The ride is quiet for the next few miles, Raoul not seeming to be very nosy or interested about his backstory, which Desmond is grateful for, because it gives him some more time to think. Calm comes easier now than it had while still so close to the Farm, and with the dull roar of the truck engine in the background, Desmond finds he can finally plan.

He hefts his backpack into his lap and pulls out the notebook and it’s wad of pens. It’s a small thing, 7 by 4.5 inches with just a hundred pages. Easier to fit amongst his other supplies, he guesses. Desmond flips the book open and pauses when he notices that it isn’t blank like he had assumed it would be. There was writing on the first page already, in pencil, and as Desmond peers at it, he realizes with growing incredulity that it’s a journal entry.

Well, reading through it, it’s less of a journal entry and more of a report than anything, but as Desmond assumes that he’s the only person that was meant read the contents of this notebook—it’s not like he had anyone outside the Farm—it’s obvious what it’s meant to be.

He resists the urge to bury his face into his hands even as a strong feeling of disappointment not his own comes pulsating from the back of his head. He too distracted by his younger self’s stupidity to decipher which of his ancestors it came from, but he’s putting his bet on Altaïr.

Ezio was a bit too vain to really and truly get why exactly it was a bad idea to write about oneself, and Connor probably wouldn't really care all that much, but Altaïr knew the dangers of having any sort of personal information on such a tangible and accessible location as paper record, not unless you were intending for others to read it. Well, his Syrian ancestor has always felt more… involved, with Desmond, than the others. Almost like he cares the most about what’s happening to him, always perking up with something that feels like distant pride when Desmond accomplishes something particularly skillfully, or a pulse of chiding when he does something incredibly stupid. Or perhaps that’s just Altaïr‘ inner-Mentor peeking through. Connor has his moments with that, too, come to think of it, and Ezio-

Desmond clutches the notebook tightly in his hands, focusing his gaze on a word in the middle of the page as the rest blurs around it in a odd, physical sort of tunnel vision. There he goes again, thinking that long dead men were actually, mentally with him, acting like having the voices of his ancestors in his head, giving him guidance, is normal. Thinking that this was something other than just another fucked up side effect of rifling through the history of his bloodline, through memories that aren't actually his.

The murmuring goes quiet in his head for the first time all day, and Desmond refuses to think about how it seems definitively wrong to feel so alone in his own head.

He loosens his grip on the notebook, slowly prying his fingers from where his sweaty palms have adhered his hands to the paper. He flips to the next page—he’d deal with the entry later—and pulls a random pen out from the bundle of them he shoved between his thigh and the seat.

Uncapping the implement, Desmond draws a bullet point in the first line and taps the pen on it for a moment. He stares at the ink dot for what feels like a few minutes, before finally starting to write.

[redbone135]

Anniversary

(Another short drabble for Swanfire week. This one is off theme -  I’m bad with memes, and everyone deserves one free space, I’m using mine early. Anyway, it’s set in an AU where August never shows. Read here, or on AO3) 

Year 1: Paper

Their first anniversary together, Neal gets Emma a road map to Tallahassee that he’s marked with all sorts of restaurants and tourist traps that he wants to stop at along the way. She is about to have Henry, and so their anniversary escapes her mind and she forgets to give him a gift. He teases her about it nonstop, but after Henry is born they do take the road trip and they stop at ALL the places Neal has marked along the way, collecting pictures for Henry's baby scrapbook.

Year 2: Cotton

Emma - adamant she will not forget this year - gets Neal a new set of paintbrushes that he’s been eyeing at the store, but won’t get because of their budget. Neal loves them, but explains that wood is the gift for five year anniversaries. He gives her and Henry a matching pair of pjs to replace his old t-shirt that she sleeps in. She loves the gift, but still wears his t-shirt underneath them.

Year 3: Leather

Emma is determined this will be the year she gets it right. But why did it have to be leather? Paper and Cotton were so much easier. Finally she decides to get him a nice new watch with a leather band. She has ‘You stole my heart’ engraved on the back. Neal cries because it’s the best gift anyone has ever given him. He got her a new leather recliner to sit in while rocking Henry to sleep, since the last one was second-hand and falling apart. She points out that Henry is almost two and she won’t have a baby to rock to sleep much longer. He asks if she’d like to change that.

Year 4: Fruit or Flowers

Neal is thankful this year is so cheap, the budget is tight with Henry starting preschool. He buys Emma a bouquet of flowers and a nice card which he writes a thoughtful message in. But he still worries after the watch she is going to show him up. She gives him a single blueberry, which is a relief, but also confusing as hell. Is he supposed to eat it? She laughs and tells him, “That’s how big our baby is right now.” And Neal cries again, because, okay, now that is the best gift anyone has ever given him.

Year 5: Wood

With two kids under five in the house, Neal thinks that what they really need this year is a trip. But at best he can afford a babysitter. So he and Emma go out to dinner, and the ability to relax is a better gift than most. She gets him a set of paintbrushes to replace the ones he has worn out in the last couple years, and a rueful smile to let him know she remembered his snide remark on their second year together. He buys her a wooden sign for their front door, with their last name and a blank spot for the address. He tells her, one day, he’ll buy her a house where they can proudly hang that sign. His gift this year is a promise.

Year 6: Candy or Iron

This year Neal resists the urge to buy iron bracelets for his entire family. It is a traditional gift back in the Enchanted Forest, as Iron repels magic and fairies. But that life is behind him. So instead he books them their first trip away from Tallahassee, taking the kids to Disney and making a point to buy Emma candy in every store they go in. She thinks it’s silly, but the kids are eager to help her eat all her candy. Her gift to him involves some alone time, a bottle of chocolate sauce, and not much else. They make an absolute mess out of their hotel room, but Neal can’t even feel a little bad for house cleaning the next morning.

Year 7: Wool

Neal is quite familiar with all the possible gifts for this year, but again, he is striving to forget about the family he has lost and instead focus on the one he has gained. Emma is pregnant again, their third child due any day now, and more than anything she just wants to relax. Furthermore, they’ve agreed to keep this year cheap because they are saving for a house. Three kids in a two-bedroom apartment just isn’t doable anymore. She gets him a nice new scarf, and he gets her a throw blanket. They wrap them and their two children in the blanket and spend the evening watching movies as a family.

Year 8: Pottery

Emma has developed quite the green thumb since moving into their little house only a block away from Henry and Mary’s school. Neal loves watching her in the little garden out back, explaining all the different plants to their older children with Jenny on her hip as they walk through the rows of flowers and vegetables she has planted with their little plastic watering cans in hand. So this year he buys her several decorative pots for their front porch and he takes her to the nursery to pick out all the different flowers she wants to fill them with. Emma, gives him three painted coffee mugs. The first, says “World’s Best Dad” and is painted in stars and constellations like the ones he tells Henry about to get him to fall asleep at night. The second, in much shakier handwriting says “I <3 You” and has tiny hearts - the only thing Mary can draw - all over the side. The last one is just splashes of color, tiny fingerprints still visible in the paint.

“That one is from the baby,” Emma explains, and once again she wins ‘Best Gift’ this year.

Year 9: Willow

They are both stumped this year - no pun intended. After a few months of searching, they confess neither one can find a decent gift made out of willow. That’s when one of them proposes the idea - and years down the line no one can remember which one - that they renew their vows under the willow tree at the Shakespeare Garden across town. Their first wedding was a rushed courthouse ceremony, Emma was at least five months pregnant, and Neal wore jeans. This time they do it right. So ten years of knowing and loving each other, the remarry by the water under the weeping willow tree. Henry is Neal’s best man, Mary is entrusted with the rings, and little Jenny does her best to toddle down the aisle throwing fistfuls of flowers, almost hostility, at the guests.

“Can we stop with the themed gifts now?” Emma asks as they eat leftover cake, their three children piled up and passed out, still in their fancy clothes, on the corner of the dance floor.

“Why?” Neal asks with a raised eyebrow, “Worried I’ll outdo you for tin?”

“No,” she laughs, leaning her head against his shoulder. “There just is no better gift than this.”

[mysticeyeliner]

How I Draw Portraits (Part 1) The Face

I've been attempting to make this for a while but I never took enough pictures or I stressed out too much. Only one or two people have asked. But i will indluge them :)

(Is this behind the scenes of another SA portrait? Maybe 👀)

First you have to take a picture of yourself making the right expression. Flip it if you want. If you're basing this off a particular person, maybe get a few references online for them and we will mix these features.

Step 1. Head shape. This does not have to be perfect right away. My example is pretty simple, but often they are tilted more in a certain way. I try and center it on the paper as best I can.

Step 2: Nose and brow. The nose is often turned, but today it's not, so I started from the bottom until I got it reasonably spaced. The brow is going to change so it just has to be general. Usually I add a few important nose lines here. This nose is wider than mine is, but Sean Grandillo is my reference so it's cool and I'll emphasize that.

Step 3: Eyes. Now, my eyes are not symmetrical- I draw exactly what I see which means my drawings' eyes usually aren't either (this is kind of cool because I can recognize at least this bit of myself in every piece.) But drawing the eye is usually guesswork- i take a good glance at the distance from my nose and go corner out, making sure to capture curves where the muscles change. You can always fix the eyes. Sometimes, eyelashes and/or waterline contribute to or get in the way of the shape. Today I drew the waterline in here. Then, I draw the hood of the eye. This is key. Surrounding the eye are a few more shadows and lines and wrinkles i make sure to put down. If it feels important, put it down. And we can always erase. (And I don't do eyelash detail or the insides until the end.)

Step 4: Copy to the other side. Obviously the eye shape and hood is likely to change a little. The lines will get different with the lighting you use. This is where my asymmetrical face comes into play. Sometimes I try and fix it, sometimes I don't. Maybe I don't notice. Also, there's often little dark creases in the corners that you can choose to add.

Step 5: Brows. Sean Grandillo should be the eyebrow model for everything alongside Kathryn Gallagher. This is where you can adjust the original brow line. My expression in this has a flirtatious eyebrow, so it will not be symmetrical. It's pretty easy in my opinion to estimate where the point/ arch is, and go from there. It'll take some work. Easy to mess up the expression but also easy to fix. Sidenote, I have an eyebrow slit (because I'm a lesbian) and this makes it slightly harder to replicate them because the right one has a gap lol. Also, add some forehead creases if you want, but I never really do.

Step 6: Cheeks. These aren't super important and sometimes I skip them. What they work for is AGE. Lots of lines add age, none adds youth. Adding round shapes to a finished product adds even more youth. It’s easy to erase some of these when you're done with more of the face and it looks old or muddied. These are more useful when drawing a smiling or frowning face than a blank face.

Step 7: Those mouth lines, that nose/upper lip thing, and the cupid part. Life would be easier if I knew these names. The mouth lines are very important, mostly in smiles, because they should how the face pulls and twists. Very much the difference between a "pasted-on" smile and not. Now, with the mouth, we are entering entirely new territory (a little less if you made cheeks). This is where the reference selfie is great for getting a perfect shape. I drew what I could see of the upper lip/nose part but it's not always in my art. Then I decided to make the bow above the actual lip, but this is optional depending on how yours already looks.

Step 8: Lips! I can't emphasize how much this is Guesswork. You edit as you go along, you just have to start with a Shape. But before that, I do the corners of the mouth, right inside the aforementioned mouth lines. The lips are on this line but start a little further in.. sometimes i draw the whole line first, sometimes the lips. Idk. If it's lips, I put the line in after and then tweak the actual lip shape. Again, this is Guesswork until it looks good. Then I may add the little puffy area on the bottom, and then the chin line. The chin line is simple. Now is a good time to elongate or shorten the face as needed. Sean Grandillo has these puppet-like mouth lines that I've never done before, so I tried it here. Feel no pressure to do this.

Step 9: You can resize the face if you need to! Often this happens around the eyes for me, and the jaw is a nice spot to shape up. Notice how the cheekbones and cheeks have dips and highs? Unless you have a rounder faced character, maybe attempt to draw those little curves. You may also do the forehead where the hair comes in, in preparation for when we draw that.

I'm gonna post the next set of steps soon, including the eyeballs, but here's the face stages for you! The next steps are the neck, torso, hair, etc. Clothes are customisable. I have also attempted a hands post so be on the lookout for that!

[lunafeather]

9 for the kiss prompts?

Hey I don’t know if you saw that I posted my response to this on AO3 (I was taking a break from tumblr at the time!), so I totally forgot to answer this ask and shit, I hope you saw it on AO3.... I’ll post it here, too, just to be safe haha

9. Fuck You Kiss

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

It becomes a routine:

Put the kids to bed, stay up prepping their lunches for the next day, entertain Dean until he finally collapses onto their air mattress, then sneak out when he’s dead asleep.

She usually drives to Boland Bubbles in silence, her mind whirring, picturing the numbers in her head and rearranging them in a way that’s believable, but profitable, in a way that her husband won’t catch on -- not for a long while, anyway.

The parking lot is empty as she pulls in, the building ominously dark. She knows its dumb, but she wedges her keys between her fingers anyway as she leaves her car and treks to the employee side entrance and lets herself in. The motion sensor lights flicker on as she makes her way down the hallway, peeking into the warehouse to make sure it all looks kosher, doing the same with the break room and then the mood room, her eyes sweeping through the one pink tinted light they leave on for good luck, and she’s just about to turn away --

She screams when she notices the shadow looming in the corner of the room, hands in its pockets, seemingly staring into the hot tub they always have filled for customers to test out before buying.

Rio meanders closer, into the light, and Beth should have known it was him, of course it’s him, it’s always him. Still, she presses her palm to her chest, against the harsh thudding of her heart.

His eyes track the movement with interest.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she hisses.

He smirks, that dumb, handsome, terrible and infuriating smirk. “That any way to greet your boss?”

Beth rolls her eyes and stalks away, not waiting for him. He won’t answer her, and he’ll eventually follow her to the office planted in the center of the show room. She doesn’t have the time nor the patience to entertain him.

He appears in the doorway a few minutes later, leaning his hip against the frame, and she has to resist the urge to look up from the papers in front of her to properly take him in -- but she can see him in her peripheral, sees the black beanie tugged low over his ears, the charcoal grey button up shrouded by the black coat with the one white button hole, the loose black jeans and the black and white sneakers.

He’s found a color scheme he likes and stuck with it, and she can respect that -- her brain chooses to focus on this thought instead of the overwhelming surge of want that flows through her, the frustration prickling at her skin -- frustration with everything that’s happened between them, frustration with this business not being hers, not really , frustration with how fucking beautiful he is. He’s taken to sporting a full beard lately, trimming it instead of shaving, and it drives her to distraction when they’re in the same room together, many times Rio just staring at her while she tries to fight the blush at the memory of that beard against her thighs, of her fingernails running through it.

The worst part is that she’s convinced he knows exactly what it does to her.

All of this lust, all of this attraction, had been a lot easier to keep at bay when she was convinced he was going to kill her at any moment, reap his revenge with three matching holes -- his and hers -- blasted in her body, and when she was consumed with the desperation for survival, convinced she needed to get rid of him first to save herself.

This stalemate of theirs makes it too easy to slip.

So she ignores him.

She can feel him smiling at her.

Still, she’s the first to break the silence.

“How did you get in?”

Rio shrugs, doesn’t answer.

She didn’t really expect one anyway.

“You worried about bein’ all alone in this big warehouse in the middle of the night, baby?”

He smiles when she glares at him.

“Maybe if you told me how you got in, I’d be able to keep the place more secure.”

His eyes are dark, framed by those thick, long lashes. “Nah, where’s the fun in that?” he murmurs.

They stare at each other for a moment.

“Well, if you didn’t need anything, I’ve got some work to --”

“Why you keep coming here at this hour anyway, Elizabeth?”

Her brows furrow. “How did you --”

He tilts his head, gives her a look.

“Are you still having me followed?” she splutters.

He shrugs again, faux nonchalant, sticking his lower lip out and then pursing his lips.

“I thought we moved past that.”

“Oh, what, you think I’m s’posed to trust you, after everything?”

Beth tips her chin in defiance. “I mean, I did bring you this idea--”

A bark of laughter, devoid of amusement. “Nah, sweetheart, that’s not how it works and you know it.”

Her mouth settles into a hard line, and she lets her expression go blank. “Fine. But if that’s all --”

“You never answered my question.”

She can’t help it, she squawks, indignant. “I’m sorry, when the hell have you ever answered --”

“Why you keep comin’ here in the middle of the night?”

“Will you let me speak?” She’s not proud of losing her temper, never likes to let her emotions slip around him, especially not now, so she balls her hands into fists in her lap and tries to channel her anger into them.

Rio watches her, waits for her to say something else, but she doesn’t have anything else, was mostly annoyed at him cutting her off. His eyebrows hit his hairline.

“Oh, that it?” He takes three long, slow steps towards her, his fingers sliding along the edge of her desk -- well, Dean’s desk, but just for now, just until she can wiggle her way in -- stopping at the corner and leaning over it, hands splayed. “Cause I thought maybe you were gonna tell me why you sneakin’ around your business, fudgin’ numbers. Why your husband still thinks he runnin’ the game and callin’ the shots.”

Beth swallows. “I told you, it’s going to take some time for me to convince him to let me handle the books. He can’t know you’re involved, or he’ll --”

“He’ll what?” Rio sneers. “Go runnin’ to the cops, the FBI? He still refusin’ to see you’re the one who bossed up and pays the bills, huh? Guess what, darlin’, I shot him once, nothin’ stoppin’ me from doing it again.”

She’s not sure what reaction he’s expecting, but she has a feeling that her cool indifference isn’t it. He squints at her.

“If you let me take care of him, it won’t come to that.”

“I ain’t got time for you to try to pussy whip your dumbass husband --”

“Excuse me?”

“You should be pullin’ in way more cash than you are, so I’ma need you to stop gaggin’ on Dean’s dick and get your shit together --”

She’s up and in his face before she realizes what she’s doing, jabbing her finger into his chest. “How dare you!”

Rio snatches her hand and holds it away from them both. “Don’t.”

His voice is rough, a warning, but she doesn’t catch it, blinded by her fury.

“You don’t know anything about my marriage, about what I’ve had to do, what I’ve had to sacrifice!” Flailing wildly, she yanks her hand from his and goes onto her toes to get onto his eye level, waving her hand in his face and prodding him again.

“Elizabeth,” he growls.

“I will not let you degrade me, or treat me like --”

And then his mouth is on hers, effectively shutting her up. The kiss is rough, angry, desperate and filthy -- Rio’s hands cup her ass and lift her onto the desk, then slide up her back to mold her body against his, her breasts wedged against his chest and spilling out over her v-neck sweater. Beth wails into his mouth and clings to his shoulders as he steps between her thighs. He ravages her mouth, alternating rubbing his tongue against hers and sucking on it. She sinks her teeth into his lower lip hard enough that she thinks she tastes blood, and he groans and twists his fingers into her hair to yank her head back and expose her throat.

“You think about my tongue in your mouth when you kiss him, mama?” he says against her skin, sucking a hickey below her ear.

She scratches her fingernails against his scalp, helpless in his arms and writhing against him. One of his palms lowers to her ass to hold her in place, not allowing her to seek out any friction.

“You close your eyes and pretend its my cock fillin’ you up, makin’ you beg?”

Beth moans as his voice vibrates against her ear, pleasure singing down her neck and across her shoulders, threading through her spine and pooling at her tailbone. He grinds his hips into hers, and she can feel how turned on he is.

“He can’t make you come like I can, huh, baby? Gotta wait til he’s passed out and touch yourself, but your fingers aren’t enough, are they? Can’t reach inside you the way mine can.”

Those fingers clench in her hair, forcing her eyes open to meet his stare, his eyes dark fathomless, drawing her in and smothering her. She tries to lean forward, to kiss him again, but he keeps her still.

“He ain’t me,” he growls. The words tumble out from his lowest register, like he pried them from deep within himself, from a place he never lets see light, dripping with possessiveness and pride, and maybe even hurt.

She shakes her head. “He’s not you.”

Almost like he doesn’t want to hear it, like he’s already said too much, revealed too much, he crushes his mouth to hers again, and this kiss feels like a punishment and a plea. Beth lets it consume her.

And just like that, he’s releasing her, both of them panting as he steps back, putting some space between them and looking at her like she’s hexxed him, woven a spell to lure him, tempt him. And then the mask is back in place.

“You got a week to get your husband in line,” he says as he wipes their spit from his chin with his sleeve. He turns to leave, but stops in the doorway and looks over his shoulder. “And you better get a gun if you gonna be spending this much time here alone. Need to protect yourself.”

She arches an eyebrow at the implication under those words, that she needs to protect herself from him.

Beth’s got a feeling that his intentions are a little less murderous and a lot more carnal.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll empty the clip this time?”

His responding grin is slow, feral, like he’d been hoping she’d say that.

“Nah.”

And then he’s gone.

[atozgenerosity]

Alright I know you probably have done this topic at last 2 times but can you do a fic about Logan,Remus and Virgil and what they were doing .Thank you rally much if you do this

(You’re actually the first person to ask for a story, so thank you!!! I’d love to do this topic vwv)

Virgil narrowed his eyes at the other end of the couch. Sitting there in the light side’s living room was Remus, seeming to mind his own business. It had been more than a little startling when he’d come downstairs for the first time that day to see him there, hunched in the corner of the couch, feet straddling the cushions, drawing frantically in a sketch book. He’d hardly looked up when Virgil had entered, so after some minutes of being frozen, Virgil shook himself and went to grab a drink and a muffin. He’d cautiously settled on the couch, as far as he could get from Remus, and they’d been there since.

It had been a stressful day. The wedding had been a disaster, and Virgil wasn’t interested in dealing with the fallout. He was feeling enough anxiety, obviously, for one day. He didn’t need to make an appearance today. He’d probably just end up having an attack, and that wasn’t constructive to anyone. So he settled back, taking sips of water and picking at his muffin, trying to ignore the scratch of Remus’s pencils against paper. It was easier said than done, especially since Remus giggled out of nowhere every here and there. He was determined to get through it, though. He wasn’t scared of Remus anymore (he wasn’t, and he wasn’t doing this to prove that to himself, nope), and the presence was sort of welcome after a day in solitude or fretting about the wedding. Except he forgot how passively annoying Remus could be.

Leg bouncing, Virgil focused on the blank TV, trying not to think about anything. But the scratch scratch of Remus’s Art was getting on his nerves, making him more jittery than usual. After a few moments of relative silence, Virgil snapped. “What are you doing?”

Remus’s head whipped around to him so quickly it cracked loudly. Virgil winced, trying to keep a disturbed expression off of his face. It was difficult when Remus’s red gaze was so intense. Blinking, Remus grinned. “Drawing! What, you can’t tell that? Do you need a new pair of eyes? I’ve got some you could try-“

“No!” Virgil clapped down on his initial cry, taking a deep breath to ground himself. “No, not that, I meant here.”

He waved a demonstrative hand around at the light side living space. He would have thought it would be too bright for Remus, who always kept his own room dim. Humming, Remus glanced around, nodding.

“Well, it isn’t to my taste- not enough cobwebs and entrails, maybe you should get to decorating some time- but with D doing whatever or whoever it is he does when he’s gone, it’s just so boring over on my side!” Remus rolled his eyes, over exaggerated and full bodied. “At least over here there’s people to be jumpy around me. But there’s only you! So doubly boring. But since I went through all the effort of coming over, I decided, why leave? So I didn’t!”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, Deceit is gone?”

Remus threw his hands up, sending the red pencil crayon in his hand flying at the wall and leaving a line. “I mean what I said! He isn’t there! Man, if I knew you were going to be this boring too I would have just holed up in the imagination. At least I have innocent people to sick monsters on there!”

Virgil lifted a hand and started chewing on his thumbnail. If Deceit wasn’t in the dark side space, that meant he was probably with the others, hashing out Thomas’s problem of the week. It would be fine, right? He didn’t have to go step in. Patton, Roman, and Logan were with him. Everything would be fine. If he sait that enough times, maybe he’d stop worrying about it (ha).

Just as he started going through a breathing exercise, Logan rose up. He looked vaguely irritated, but it fell away when he saw Virgil and Remus on the couch. Virgil froze, eyes wide, while Remus grinned wide.

“Hey nerd!”

“Remus, what brings you here?”

“Boredom!”

Logan nodded, making his way to the kitchen. Virgil turned to watch him, hands fiddling with the wrapper from his muffin. After a moment of debate, he cleared his throat.

“Hey, Remus said Deceit was with the others. Is... everything okay?”

Logan sighed sharply, filling a glass with water. “He’s there, yes, but it’s fine. I’m here mostly due to being unnecessary for the rest of their discussion.”

That didn’t sound... great. But Virgil didn’t know what to say. He went back to nibbling on his nails. Logan sipped his water, coming out of the kitchen and making for the stairs.

“Murder documentary!” Remus suddenly cried, making Virgil flinch and Logan cock a brow.

“Pardon?” Logan turned, taking a few steps over.

“We should watch a murder documentary! Or something like Buzzfeed Unsolved! All those mysteries, all that death- now that gets the blood pumping!” He wiggled, eyebrows bouncing.

Virgil made a disgusted sound, looking at Logan. Logan, who seemed to be actually contemplating it. After a long moment, he shrugged, walking over and taking a seat between where Virgil was and where Remus was.

“Alright. Do you have anything particular in mind?”

Remus whooped, disappearing his sketch book and grabbing his laptop. “Why don’t you choose, Google Doc? I got a whole selection!”

“That is agreeable. Virgil? Would you like to assist me in picking one we’d all enjoy?”

Virgil stared incredulously at Logan for a long moment. Behind his back, Remus gave Virgil a big grin. It might have been meant to be comforting, but it was just disturbing. Raising a hand to his face, Virgil sighed, then scooted over.

“Sure, whatever. This might as well happen. Nothing too visually graphic.”

“Booooring!” Remus groaned.

“I didn’t ask you.” Virgil snapped. He was careful to keep Logan between them, even if they were pretty crowded to see the laptop screen properly. He jabbed a finger at the screen at random. “That one.”

Logan hummed. “Agreeable. Remus?”

“Sure! One of the more boring ones, but whatever gets you off!”

Barely phased, Logan pressed play and leaned back. Virgil did too, curling into himself, his arm pressed to Logan’s. Remus folded his ankles on the couch, hands grabbing them, knee in Logan’s space. He couldn’t sit still, but with another person and something to focus on, Virgil didn’t mind as much.

And as he found himself leaning into Logan, which he didn’t mention or complain about, the Duke cackling at a particularly gory description before draping himself over both of their laps, Virgil found his day almost looking up.

[centuryofdean]

Of Food and Comfort - Part 3

Author Disclaimer:: Marvel and its characters are not mine. I take no credit. Instead I claim the maybe not so great plot, writing and characteristics of the reader insert character. I am not a die hard Marvel fan, I haven’t read all the comics, but have watched the movies. I may get some things wrong, so please don’t hate me. I also have been incorporating Old Norse as terms of endearment.

Summary:: You worked for Tony Stark as a…mechanic of sorts. Anything around the Avengers compound that needed a technicians touch, you handled. With working and living there, you had grown to be friendly with the super heroes. Of course you had grown to have feelings for one of them. The muscled Thunder God to be exact.

Rated:: M for Mature. Please do not read this story unless you are 18+. At this point in the story there isn’t much, but later on the M rating will come into effect.

Warnings:: Language and Scenes of Sexual Nature

Pairing:: Thor x Reader

Christmas was looming up faster than you were expecting. You made it a point to get everyone on base a gift, even if it was something small. Though, what do you get super heroes, who have anything they could want because of Tony Stark? What do you even get Tony Stark?

You had made plans with Wanda to go shopping in town for gifts. Liam tried to tag along, but you refused and insisted it was a girl’s trip.

That was the plan anyway.

Vision invited Wanda to go see some of the Christmas lights out in the suburbs and the woman could hardly turn him down. She had been harboring feelings for him for ages, you would feel guilty to deny her that.

So, as you were getting your coat on to head out, Thor invited himself along. And you could hardly turn him down.

Ever since that night Liam came over for dinner, Thor stuck around. It had been a couple weeks, but he seemed to be more interested in spending time with you than before. This isn’t something you were complaining about, but just confused—why the turn around?

Liam had popped by the base a few times since Thanksgiving. He had also pointed out that Thor was very touchy-feely with you—and he didn’t like it. When he first brought it up, you tried to think if it were true. As far as you could remember since the beginning of your friendship with Thor there had always been hugs, soft touches of the shoulder and even sitting side by side on the couch. Neither you nor Thor were doing anything different than normal from what you could tell. It actually seemed like anytime Liam came around Thor would suddenly make himself scarce. You assured Liam that the God was no more than a friend—even if deep down you wish it were a lie.

Thor was just amazed a Midgardian could lift his hammer. Your almost boyfriend still made it known he didn’t like you spending time with the blonde hero. Tough luck though, because he was your friend and you wouldn’t lose your mind over a man you had only been seeing for two months.

“Do you celebrate Christmas in Asgard,” you asked. Thor had promised you to go to the mystical realm as a reward for lifting his hammer. Though he might have forgotten by now. You had drank so much that night, you thought it a dream until Sam said something about it the next day.

Thor maneuvered out of the car from the passenger seat to meet you in the snow-covered parking lot.

“We celebrate Yuletide, which from my understanding is similar. Time for family and friends, enjoy the company of others. Be thankful and grateful for those around you,” he rumbled softly.

“Well do you exchange gifts?”

His brow furrowed, “No. Children sometimes receive gifts, if they prepare an offering.”

You were about to inquire about the offering, when the snow and ice below took your gravity. Thankfully Thor was there to grasp your arm to prevent the fall. Once you were righted, he kept his arm around your back to guide your way.

The heat filled your cheeks at the intimacy. The comforting warmth of his arm wrapped around your shoulders was very welcome. This man was nearly everything you could have dreamed of and more. “Well,” you cleared your throat, “I am getting gifts for our friends. That is what we are shopping for.”

Inside the large mall it was easy to be looked over. Yes, Thor got a few glances and you could see some people snapping a picture or two on their smart phones. Oh well, it was bound to happen even if he wasn’t an Avenger—the man was gorgeous.

You pulled out your small notepad with a list of names. It took a few scribbles and ideas, but there was something for everyone on your list. Except Thor. Next to his name was blank space, because you couldn’t think of what to get him. Shortly after you made the list, you became inspired to knit him a sweater. Knitting was not the best skill you possessed, but you could make things at least. The man loved sweaters for whatever reason, so making one would be the kindest gift to give. If worse came to worse and the sweater turned out like shit, you could buy one.

The trip was a little lengthy but enjoyable. Thor reached on high shelves for you, carried your bags and somewhat kept you out of harm’s way from the crazy shoppers. He even decided he wanted to get gifts for the others as well. The gifts he got were a little odd in choice.

For Tony he grabbed a pair of sunglasses. Natasha is going to get a pair of fuzzy socks. Steve will open a box of chocolates. The list went on. You tried to snoop but was unsuccessful in finding out what you would be receiving from him. If he bought it today, you didn’t see it. Honestly you would be lucky to receive anything from Thor at all.

At the end of the trip you had to go through the food court. The soft pretzels smelled appetizing and looked better than ever before as you passed by. Just as you were shaking your head at yourself in annoyance, Thor chuckled and gestured you to stop. “Did you want to get a pretzel schat,” he asked.

“It’s okay, there is plenty of food at the base. I don’t need—”

Thor cut you off, placing a free hand on your shoulder, “Nonsense. Let us get some.”

“Thor,” you laughed when he started to walk towards the pretzel stand. He had at least four bags on his right wrist and three more bags in his rand hand. “Those pretzels are huge; I won’t eat dinner tonight if I have one!”

After he paid for the pretzels and some dipping cheese, you both continued on your way out to the parking lot. It would be easier to eat in the car instead of sitting at a table and get stopped by other people asking for autographs or to take pictures with Thor. At least seven people had stopped him while shopping.

“I can’t eat all of this,” you moaned regretfully while savoring the beautiful taste of the salted pretzel and nacho cheese. “I will gain three pounds alone from this whole pretzel.”

Thor had already finished his, smirking at you as you ate yours. “You shouldn’t worry about weight schat,” he smiled, “you are very tiny as it is.”

You were ready to tell him about carbs and how this whole pretzel would be terrible to eat on top of everything else for the day when you paused. “You keep calling me that,” you mused. “What does it mean?”

He turned his gaze to the windshield, sighing softly when he did so. “In a way it is a compliment, it means you are the type of person who is a rarity, a very good person,” he said. A little confused, you wordlessly offered him the rest of your pretzel. Maybe you would do some Googling later.

On the way back to the base you received a call from Liam. He wanted to have you come stay the night with him. It wasn’t something that you two had done before. Ultimately you gently refused since the roads weren’t the best, and you just left the city. Feeling bad, you found yourself inviting him over, hoping he would refuse due to the weather or being uncomfortable at the base. You cringed when he agreed.

“If you do not like the mortal, why do you continue to see him,” Thor murmured softly when you came to a stop in the garage. The way he said mortal almost brought you up short. You were a mortal after all.

Stunned, you replied, “I do like Liam. I just… don’t like how pushy he is sometimes.”

“I know he does not enjoy my company,” Thor muttered, “he does not agree with our friendship.”

“That is where I draw the line. I won’t be with someone who can’t accept my friends. So do not fear big guy, I’m not kicking you to the curb yet,” you offered a small smile while getting out. “But if you don’t carry all these bags, I am reevaluating our friendship for sure.”

 The both of you were holed up in your room for little over an hour while wrapping gifts. Thor was terrible at it. More times than not, the paper ripped when he folded it, or he would try to wrap the paper around the gift like a crumbled ball. You took the time to wrap for him, but he would forget the receivers name after it was wrapped. This resulted in unwrapping a few gifts and rewrapping them.

All too soon your door opened, revealing Liam. He looked less than happy to find Thor lounged on the couch in your room, you next to him trying to show him how to wrap a gift. Thor stood slowly and excused himself from the room. It was off-putting how he just up and left. He didn’t even take the gifts he bought to put under the tree. You huffed and finished wrapping the gift. Thankfully it was the last of his and you could put them under the tree for him after you finished your own.

“Hey babe,” you smiled, “just finishing wrapping presents for everyone.”

He looked around your room, this being the second time he had ever been in it. There were shopping bags and wrapping paper everywhere. It was a mess. “I’ll be done in about twenty minutes,” you replied, “and we can grab some snacks and come back and watch movies.”

Grabbing snacks and watching movies turned into you sprawled on the couch underneath a panting Liam and his hands crawled up your waist.

Even if things were questionable with Liam, you could still get carried away.

Your hips were grinding against his softly, the evidence of his excitement pressed pleasurably to your core. Each little thrust of your hips up to his caused a small spark of heat in the pit of your stomach and a rush of wetness to pool between your thighs. After little effort your shirt was gone, and you crashed your lips back to his. Everything was getting too hot, causing a sheen layer of sweat to coat your skin. It continued for a while, the skin of your stomach and chest pressing up against Liam’s hot skin, your hands running up and down his back. It was great, until he tried to remove your bra, and you started to clam up and put a hand to his bare chest.

“I’m sorry, but I want to wait—” you started only to be cut off.

“What, until we are an ‘official’ couple? That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard, you know that right?”

“Ugh really Liam,” you huffed and grabbed your shirt from the back of the couch. You had a small conversation with him a week ago about your status as a couple. You didn’t tell him you wanted to be together exactly but made a light comment about how you weren’t really his girlfriend, and really you weren’t. Neither of you had any conversation about becoming official, but he still didn’t even ask you then when you brought it up. You would think if he was jealous over your time spent with Thor, he would want to make you his girlfriend. Instead you told him about your whole ‘know a guy for three months’ rule you made yourself.

Sliding out from under him, you slipped it back on and zipped and buttoned your pants he undid. “Why do you have to be so difficult when I said I want to wait? It isn’t like I’m asking you to wait until marriage or some shit. It’s just a little while longer. I’m not ready yet.”

His face was hard and annoyed, sitting on your couch pissed.

“It’s frustrating,” he whispered. “You walk into my shop, gorgeous and wielding air and oil filters and I couldn’t help but want you. It feels like you’re trying to make sure that no one else wants you before you agree to be with me.”

“That’s not it at all,” you whispered. As you sat next to him, you grasped his hand and squeezed. “I just found through dating a guy for a while shows me what kind of man he is. I like to know what kind of man I’m letting in my pants.”

Liam and you cuddled on the couch with your clothes on for the rest of the night. When you both were ready to settle in for the night, he pulled off his shirt and pants to slid into your bed in just his boxer briefs. The image was more than enough to make you squirm and wonder if waiting longer would be possible.

You were a woman after all, you had needs; plus earlier he was grinding into you so well you had gotten incredibly wet and horny.

After a quick trip to your in-suite bathroom you were able to take a few calming breaths and set yourself straight. If Liam is worth it, he will wait for you to be ready to take that step with him. Even if you had needs you wouldn’t make a decision you were going to regret later.

It was one night of cuddling, what could go wrong?

Previous Chapter << Part 2: Thanksgiving Feast

Next Chapter >> Part 4: Promise Cookies

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