#hot wheels colour reveal

[rashivermaofficial]

Hot Wheels Hypertruck Color Shifters: The Ultimate by rashiverma

Dive into the world of Hot Wheels Color Shifters with the Hypertruck edition! Unbox and discover the magic of color-changing as water activates its transformation. Engage in fun-filled races and entertaining showdowns, showcasing the Hypertruck's dynamic colors. Explore the versatility of this toy for hours of imaginative play and racing excitement.

[sebsxphia]

shopping lists.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x reader.

￫ summary: you rush to the shops after work to do a quick food shop, but bob floyd was not on your shopping list.

￫ word count: 3.3K.

￫ warnings: mentions of food, supermarkets, feeling hungry and fluff, fluff, fluff.

￫ authors notes: my description of the supermarket is based off uk supermarkets, so i apologise if there’s inaccuracies to us supermarkets! this also hasn’t been proof read. my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Bob was starving.

He cursed himself under his breath as he drove back from base. He had the driver's window in his baby blue truck rolled down and his forearm resting on the side, his fingers pushing through the sticky summer air as he drove. Air conditioning alone wouldn’t keep him cool, as he still wore his flight suit from training earlier that day. He could feel how the ring of sweat around his neck was sticking to his collar, but he simply didn’t have the time or willpower to shower and change on base.

It had just gone five o’clock in the afternoon and he had gotten off later than he expected. He would’ve already had a small meal to keep him going until dinner by now, but low and behold, when he awoke this morning, as the sun was only a crack along the horizon, he realized he had no substantial food in his fridge.

Bob was a planner. He would do his fortnightly shop routinely, but something came up at work and it had simply slipped his mind. The only thing he could do now was drive as fast as he could to the supermarket, slip in, whisk around the aisles in record time and drive back home to cook something up in under an hour. He had another early start the next morning and as always, he had a routinely early bedtime.

Being a pilot made his reactions lightening fast. This would be easy for him.

As he pulled into the car park and zoned in on a space, he noticed another car also going for the same spot.

You were inches away from the space and although he was in a hunger-fueled rush, being the ever polite gentleman that he was, he let you go for it. Through the glare of the late afternoon sun reflecting off your windshield, he couldn’t quite make out the person driving, but he saw how you politely lifted your hand off the steering wheel to motion, “Thanks!”

Bob responded in turn with his wave and warm smile. He drove a little further forward past your car to find another space and the reflecting sun moved against your windshield to reveal you in a clearer light. You had the sweetest little smile as you thanked Bob. Your lips curled up to meet the creases in the corners of your eyes and your cheeks were a sweet rosy colour.

As he drove away and around the corner of the car park, Bob chewed at the inside of his cheek, still with a small smile twitching on his lips. He had a small hope that he would see you inside, only because he wanted to let you know that he was more than happy to give you the spot.

No other reason.

He was pulled out of his thoughts about your sweet smile as he felt his stomach grumble furiously. After doing a loop around, he managed to find a spot at the opposite end of the car park. He of course cursed himself again under his breath for going shopping at peak hours after everyone had finished work on a weekday, but he only blamed himself. He didn’t blame you. You were simply there first.

The almost freezing blast of air conditioner on his face as he entered the supermarket, was a welcomed change to the ever-growing humid air outside. The tiny, blonde baby hairs on the back of his sweat-coated neck stood up momentarily, as the icy air flowed down and through his flight suit. He felt himself cool down almost instantly. He pulled up with a shopping cart and started with fruits and vegetables at the front of the store. He was desperate to move fast, but his boots were heavy and searingly hot with every step he took around the aisles. That was the only spot on his body that the air conditioning could not reach.

As he came to the end of the fruits and vegetables section, he turned to reach for the tomatoes when suddenly a flurry swooped by him. It caught his attention instantly and he whipped his head around, with his torso moving inwards towards the tomatoes to avoid bumping into whoever had just swept by him.

It was you. The same person in the car park who he had given his space to. He observed as you descended the cheese and yoghurt aisle.

A small lump got caught in his throat and he swallowed thickly, as he watched how your sundress swished around your bare calves. He couldn’t help but let his cobalt blue eyes from behind his glasses, glance over you. Bob was raised right by his mom. He was respectful and well-mannered, but the simple and undeniable fact was, that you were the prettiest person he had ever laid eyes on. Even from the glow of the cool light down the food aisle, it could not diminish your luminescence.

He reached his slender index finger up to his glasses and pushed them up his nose ever so slightly. The prior sudden movement had caused them to jolt down the bridge of his nose by a centimetre.

As you walked straight down the aisle and turned to face the cheese selection, the delicate material of your sundress moved back into place to frame your body. It rippled over each curve of your figure and Bob’s heartbeat doubled in time when he caught sight of your soft belly in your sundress. He sucked in a harsh breath between his teeth as he wondered for a fleeting second, how soft your belly would feel to hold when his face was buried between your thighs.

He registered the smile creases in the corners of your eyes. The same ones that he noticed first in the parking lot and how they narrowed to read the label in front of you. Your eyelashes fluttered against one another as you blinked against the glaring light humming above you. As you raked over your options, he watched how your teeth grazed over your bottom lip and chewed nimbly at it. The same habit he had.

He needed some cheese and yoghurt himself, so perhaps he could catch you there.

Bob meandered some meters behind you and acted as if he was choosing his yoghurt option. He already knew what he needed. The same yoghurt he’d had for the past five years, but he was drawn to you. Like a moth to the radiating flame.

He cocked his head behind him to glance in your direction and you had already moved down the aisle to assess your next grocery choice. He took his multipack of yoghurts, placed it in his cart and wheeled it around to stand by you, again acting as if he was evaluating his cheese choice. From behind his glasses, he took another sideways glance. You were performing a balancing act of holding your shopping basket’s flimsy handles, holding the cheese in your other hand and somehow holding open a small notebook and crossing out the presumed item, with a pen.

At a glance, Bob saw how inside your notebook was filled with lots of little scribbles, and crossed-out parts and as you went to close it, the front cover was decorated with sweet little stickers.

“Jesus Christ. That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” He thought to himself.

As you went to slide the pen back into the elasticated band, it slipped from your balancing act and slid along the dotted tiles of the supermarket, straight for Bob’s direction. It hit the sole of his boots and he heard your voice for the first time.

“Ah, shit.” It was muttered under your breath with annoyance, but he thought your voice sounded like sweet honey.

Before his thought process could catch up to him, he wondered if you tasted like sweet honey.

You spoke directly to Bob this time, as you scurried over and bent down to pick up the pen by his boots. He caught a fleeting glance at the swell of your breasts, resting in your sundress.

You laughed out faintly with your apology. “I’m sorry, my mistake—”

As you moved too quickly with embarrassment to pick up your pen, your flimsy shopping basket was swinging and the cheese you were holding also fell out of your grasp.

“Ah! Fuck.” You quietly cursed again to yourself, or so you thought.

Bob had caught your second string of curses to you accidentally dropping something and he thought it was rather cute.

“Here, let me.” He chuckled to himself as he squatted down to reach for your cheese and pen.

Both now standing upright, he handed your belongings back to you and felt how the palms of your hands were as soft as butter against his fingertips. You looked at each other directly and now without the glare of your windshield, he could finally see every delicate feature that made up your beautiful face. He thought that you were so pretty.

You went to open your mouth and speak, but your words got caught on your tongue. This kind stranger was incredibly handsome. He looked smart with his clean-shaven face and his dusty blonde hair parted neatly to one side, with a thick swoop. His rounded glasses didn’t have a single smudge on them and his cheeks were round as he smiled at you, although it still didn't take away from his strong cheekbones and firm jaw.

You blinked in a flurry as you took in his build. You were accustomed to seeing pilots around here with the air base being so close to town, but it was rare to see one in what you presumed was a flight suit of some kind. It was deep forest green in colour and harmoniously blended against his striking eyes from behind his glasses. It wasn’t tightly fitted, yet still, his broad shoulders and firm biceps were flexing against the coarse material. His thighs stood strong with his heavy boots planted firmly against the tiled floor. He was tall and practically towered over you, but he respectfully kept a distance between you both.

“I’m sorry again, thank you.” You smiled bashfully at him. Your eyelashes were still fluttering against one another and your rounded cheeks were dusted pink.

Bob couldn’t help himself. He grinned as he shook his head and politely rejected your apology.

“No need to apologise, Ma’am. It’s all good.”

Suddenly your eyes widened and your eyebrows raised with them.

The glimmer from the overhead light in the supermarket made your eyes sparkle with such an inviting glow.

“Oh! You were the nice guy in the parking lot! You let me take your space!” You pointed your finger towards him. His truck was significantly higher than your car and you were only able to get a glance at his face from behind your windshield.

Bob let out a chuckle and waved his large hand in front of him, diminishing the idea. He further wanted to wave off the ever-growing flush of heat that was creeping up from his chest. It flushed over his neck and cheeks and sat right under his glasses. The blasting air conditioning had once again failed him and his chest, neck and cheeks were now flushed warm.

“Oh, hey. Not at all, it wasn’t my space. You had it, fair and square.”

You giggled in response. His respectful and polite demeanour had your stomach feeling as though a million and one butterflies were fluttering through you, making their way up through your heart and coming out of your mouth with sweet giggles.

“Alright, thanks again though, I appreciate it. I was in such a rush after work. Always the way, isn’t it?”

You laughed again and the sound flowed to Bob’s ears, making his playful smile reach the tips of his ears.

“Tell me about it.” He agreed with a grin.

You flashed a last beaming smile at Bob as the conversation between two strangers in a supermarket came to its natural end and you turned around to continue following your shopping list.

That’s what he thought.

As you turned down the aisle, you once again cursed at yourself for not being more forward, flirtatious, or whatever it would be that would land you his number. He was gorgeous. Undeniably handsome. And he was so stupidly charming and polite.

You turned on a quick heel to see if he was still there, but he had disappeared and you were left alone in the chilled aisle, with nothing to comfort you but your notebook and the static overhead lights.

Bob too mentally scolded himself for not asking such a pretty sweetheart like yourself for your number. As he watched you turn away, he chewed on his bottom lip, curled his fists tightly, released them and then walked away.

He was a gentleman. He would not harass someone if they didn’t show a sign of being interested in him. But he was sure you were. He had a sharp and watchful eye, and he saw how rosy your cheeks turned and how your chest stuttered slightly as your breath got caught in your throat. But he was pulled out of his battling thoughts but his stomach grumbly furiously at him again.

He whisked down the remaining aisles to finish his shop, still with the hope of a fleeting chance to see you again, but he couldn’t ignore what his body was telling him. As he checked out, tapped his card on the machine and wheeled his shopping cart out of the store, he still had both his trained eyes on his surroundings. Just in case there was a single chance, a perfect moment, where he could catch you. Bob had been extremely methodical about his choices in life and he only ever perused something if he was certain. He had never been so utterly and completely sure that you were the one for him.

He fished his truck keys out of his flight suit pocket and just as he was about to turn the key in the door, he remembered.

“Fuck. Tomatoes.”

Bob didn’t need a list. It was all written down mentally and he rarely forgot things, but he remembered that as he was about to reach for the tomatoes, you came by earlier in a flurry. He would’ve called it fate if he ever had a chance of seeing you again.

“Fuck! Tomatoes.”

You groaned and threw your head back in annoyance. It was on your list, sitting on the next line down under cheese and then you remembered why you forgot it in such a fluster. You slammed the boot door of your car back down, locked it shut and headed back inside to grab the final item. Your feet moved quickly along the tile floor and you turned on your heel to find the stack of plump, rosy red tomatoes in front of you.

“Hello again.”

The familiar voice made the tiny baby hairs on your neck stand up and a row of goosebumps rise on your forearms in tow. His smile radiated warmth as it crinkled up in the corners of his eyes. He stood tall over you, still in his flight suit, but again you didn’t feel intimidated in the slightest. You felt a true sense of calm and safety wash over you.

Your lips parted to gasp with happy surprise at seeing him again, before they curled up into a relieved smile, mirroring his own.

“Hello again.” You repeated back to him. “I forgot tom—”

“I forgot some tom—”

You both spoke in unison, before snorting out a quiet laugh between yourselves.

“Apologies. You go.” Bob gestured towards you and the vegetable stand.

“I’m going to make a sauce when I get back home, but I completely forgot the main ingredient.” You waved it off with another giggle, yet still, you did not attempt to reach for said important ingredient. You simply stayed facing him with a gleaming smile.

Bob’s mouth watered at the sound of your homemade tomato sauce. His stomach still growled at him from inside, but he also felt how it twisted and turned on itself with exhilaration. He pictured coming home to you after work, sitting down together at your dining table and sharing the homemade sauce. You were, without a fault, the only person he had ever truly envisioned a future with and he couldn’t repeat the same mistake as before.

He nimbly chewed at his bottom lip, failing to notice how you were also doing the same, as he mentally prepared his next statement.

“That sounds, delicious. I hope I’m not oversteppin’ here, and please tell me if I am, but I’d love to have y’ number, Ma’am. I’d love to try some of y’ homemade sauce, if that’s okay with you?”

Bob was not an overly religious man, but he swallowed thickly and prayed with every hope that the last part of his sentence didn’t come across in the wrong way. It felt longer than mere seconds to receive your response, but he breathed out a short sigh of relief when he saw how your eyes crinkled up into an animated smile to match his.

“Yes, yes! I’d love that. Please, let me get my book…” Your fingers were trembling with giddy anticipation as you worked to open your bag and reached for your notebook. “Uh…” You flipped through to find a clean page and when you landed on one, you gestured it towards him. “Here you go.” You gushed.

“Thank you.” He began. “I’m Bob, by the way. Bob Floyd.”

You mentioned your name and he felt his heart flutter at how pretty it was. By how eagerly you had accepted his proposal to exchange numbers, he could see that you were just as into him, as he was with you. And so, he let his true feelings become known.

“That’s a real pretty name, sweetheart.”

You sucked in a harsh breath between your teeth and let out a bashful, “Oh…”

The sweet name that he had just called you, made your legs nearly twitch and tremble on the supermarket floor.

His long, slender fingers curled around the pen as he scribbled down his number. Your notebook and pen looked so small in his hands.

When he offered it back to you, you wrote down your number in a flurry and tore the piece of paper out from the binder. You handed it over and he tucked it into the top pocket of his flight suit. You thought that that was the hottest thing you have ever witnessed a man doing.

Bob Floyd, as you now knew him, had seriously gotten into your head and clouded any reasonable senses.

You both exchanged some further light conversation, still with Bob shamelessly and sweetly flirting with you, before you both picked up your tomatoes, paid and left for the car park together. He insisted on walking you to the car to ensure that you got there safely, even though it was still broad daylight and when he left, he placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

You both went back to your separate homes and cooked your separate meals. As you were about to get into bed you sent Bob a text, the taste of your homemade sauce still dancing on your taste buds.

“this weekend, would you like me to show you how i make the sauce? would you like to come to mine? x”

You were caught by surprise when your phone dinged with a message notification moments after.

“I would love that, thank you for the invite, sweetheart. Can’t wait :-) x”

Bob lay in bed that night thinking about how to tell the story of how you both met at your wedding.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2 @unmistakablyunknown @flames-thebitch @birdy-bat-writes @thedroneranger @randomfandomgirl97 @kmc1989 @swiftsgirlfriend

tagging those who may be interested: @sunblchdfly @floydsglasses @fridamoss @floydsmuse @bobfloydsbabe @laracrofted @hangmanapologist @rhettabbotts @lewmagoo @peachystenbrough @auroralightsthesky @cherrycola27 @withahappyrefrain @sugarcoated-lame @senawashere

[lavandulawrites]

Caerulea

Yandere vampire Gojo x reader

This has been in my drafts since forever.

Synopsis: you see a peculiar man at a party and meet him again when you’re on your way home

Masterlist

Warnings: biting, drugging, lemme know if I’m missing something

Word count: 1561

Ice blue eyes had been following you around the entire evening. Their colour outstanding and alluring, as if they were able to cast a spell upon you that lured you in. They were eerie. The owner of said eyes was a tall man with hair as with a snow. His face was excruciating handsome to the point he looked otherworldly.

His lips twisted up into a playful smile. Revealing pearly white teeth. When he widened his smile as he chuckled, you could see his pointy canines. He winked and disappeared into the crowed. How he managed that was truly a mystery for a man his size.

The night was filled with laughter and horrible music. As the party started to near its end, you decided to venture home. You had only had two glasses to drink and you weren’t drunk. Which was something you probably would be grateful tomorrow morning. You had felt that it would be unwise to drink when you made eye contact with the white haired man. Why you weren’t sure, but you knew well enough to trust your gut.

The streets were empty save from some drunk business men and a couple of students. The asphalt was wet from the earlier rain making the light from the neon signs that adorned the many buildings, reflecting in the water like liquid gemstones. Tokyo really was a beautiful city. A taxi drove by causing water from the puddles to splash onto your clothing. You cursed after it in anger.

A gachapon machine caught your eye. You had been on the lookout for a new Sanrio keychain.

You inserted some coins and turned the wheel. Out popped a light pink plastic ball. You opened it with eagerness. My Melody. You smiled as you studied the little pink keychain.

The sound of footsteps snapped you out of your little trance. You turned around and you almost dropped your keychain at the sight of the white haired man. His pale eyes scanning your features. Emotions you couldn’t place swirled within his eyes.

“Cute keychain” his voice playful.

“Thank you” your voice low. Your eyes darted across the street. The man in front of you have you a bad feeling and you wanted nothing more than to leave.

As if noticing your discomfort he spoke. “I take it that you’re heading home?” he took a step closer. “So am i” his eyes almost hypnotising you in their endless blues.

You knew you should’ve just kept quiet and walked away, but something compelled you to answer him truthfully. “Yeah I am” you couldn’t avert your gaze form his.

His smile widened. “Want to walk together? It gets dangerous at night , you know” his grin sharp. “I am Gojo Satoru, but you can call me Satoru” he winked.

“Okay… I am [Name]” you forced a smile. He didn’t comment on you not sharing your last name, but his eyes narrowed slightly in disappointment.

“What a beautiful man” he hummed. His hand snaked around yours as he dragged you away from the gachapon machine. His hold on you tight.

You two walked down the street in silence. You had asked him how he knew to way to your home, but he only brushed you off. Your intuition told you to not question him further. His hold on your arm didn’t waver one bit.

The sky suddenly opened and rain poured down on the street. Satoru quickly dragged you underneath the roof of a bus shed. “My place isn’t too far away” his eyes flickered to your neck and then back up.

You hesitated. It was not wise to follow a stranger to his home and especially when he gave off such unnerving vibes. “I’m not too sure if I should…”

At your hesitation his eyes darkened. “Why not? You’ll get sick out here. Plus it’s only till the rain stops” he pulled you closer. Too close. You could feel his breath fan against your face.

You swallowed as you weighed your possibilities.

“Come oooon… I can make you some hot chocolate if you would like? I really pride myself with being the best hot chocolate maker I know” he chuckled. His blue eyes glinting with mischief.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his weird comment. “Hot chocolate does sound good…” you were quite cold even though it was summer. The rain that poured endless only made you shiver more.

You don’t know how he managed to fully convince you, but he did. His flat was a penthouse and huge. It was filled with different luxuries and beautiful paintings adorned the walls. The interior was a fine mixture of traditional Japanese design and dark classical style. In a way he had made it work, and beautifully so.

Satoru was busy making hot chocolate while you took in your surroundings. You hadn’t asked what his profession was and you wondered that maybe he was one of those who didn’t have to work.

“Here you go” his jovial voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

Satoru had made two cups with hot chocolate topped with cream and marshmallows. It smelled heavenly and you couldn’t help but sigh. “It looks so good!”

He chuckled as he clinked his mug against yours. You took a sip and your senses was overwhelmed by the delicious taste. It was truly the best hot chocolate you had ever had.

“Wow! This is amazing!” your tongue darted out to lick away the cream that had formed on your upper lips.

The white haired man chuckled at you excitement as he took a sip himself. “I am glad you liked it. As I said, I am truly the best hot chocolate maker” he winked playfully.

“Your flat is really nice” you waved your hand in the air.

His smile widened and your eyes caught what resembled sharp fangs. “Thank you. It’s one of my prized possessions” his voice melodic and his charm otherworldly.

Before you knew it your mug was empty and you were feeling rather sluggish. You and Satoru had talked about all and nothing and he was exceptionally easy to talk with.

Your eyes felt heavy and you leaned your head against your arm that rested on the kitchen table. Your back fell limp against the kitchen chair and the last you saw before your mind slipped into unconsciousness was the icy eyes of Satoru.

Your eyes fluttered open at the feeling of a cold breath fanning over your neck. You were met with the sight of snow white hair that tickled your cheek. Satoru. You suddenly snapped out of your haziness as you sat up in what you now noticed was his black couch.

He laughed softly against your neck. “You finally regained your senses, huh? Good. I want you to be awake” his voice deep.

You blinked in confusion at his words. “What is going on? What are you doing?” anxiety laced in your words.

Satoru slowly rose his head. His eyes boring into yours with a whirlpool of emotions. “You are so adorable when confused. Ya know when I saw you tonight, I had to use all my strength to hold back. It’s really dangerous going around and being so goddamn cute. So careless” he sighed with a lazy smile. His large hand gently cupped your cheek. His thumb ran over your slightly trembling lips.

“Sator-”

“Shushhhhh” he pressed his thumb hard on your lips.

With a blink of an eye he pinned you flat against the couch, his mouth hovering over you neck. Your heart was beating fast as you cried out.

“Don’t worry darling. I mean you no harm. If I did you wouldn’t have found yourself here. If anything I am more like your guardian angel” he smiled down at you with a gentle smile that almost made you forget everything.

You could hear him inhale which was accompanied by a sigh. “God you smell so good…” his voice a low groan.

“What are you doing?” your voice was weak with panic laced within each word. You were shivering as you tried to regain your strength.

“Something I have wanted to do for months” he chuckled slightly.

A sudden pain exploded your nerves as he dug his fanged teeth hard into your neck. You cried out as you tried to push him away. You could feel him sucking your blood from your wound. It was a feeling you had never experienced.

Gojo chuckled at your attempts of pushing him off. “There’s no way you would ever manage to push me off. Though I must say your attempts are rather cute” he said before he dove back in with his teeth.

He drank from you for what felt like an eternity. After a while he slowly pulled away. His icy eyes looked back at you with hooded lids as he wiped away the blood that coated his chin with the back of his hand. “You taste so much better than what I imagined” he sighed as he licked his lips.

A cold hand stroked your cheek in a soothing manner. “To think that I almost let somebody else have you… Now that would just be foolish” he tilted his head.

“I should just keep you here. For all eternity. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” his smile soft and his eyes filled with love that ran deeper than the deepest sea.

[smuttyaf]

Tag, You’re It

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲

wc: 4.3k

dom/sub, slapping, exhibitionism & very rough sex

The houses that you grew up around stand tall and sturdy after many years on the residential street. Trees still holding their colourful leaves while some skid amongst the ground when the wind picks up. Your free hand was buried into your pocket, feeling over the sherpa lining while the other tore the cigarette from your lips and flicked it to the ground.

Heels click against the asphalt, your ears drawing in the sound of music playing from your phone. The sun was already setting on the horizon as you made your way home; school had just finished an hour ago yet it was as if it was nearly the evening, however you were happy.

It was finally Friday and you were delighted to lay in your bed, order in food, and watch whatever movie seemed interesting on Netflix. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip when you felt the gush of wind blow through you, hand now going into your other pocket and welcoming the warmth.

The familiar sound of Harry’s Mustang caught your attention as it peels down the road, the engine could be heard over the music in your headphones. The smell of burning gas fills your nostrils as the presence of it next to you quirks your interest.

Black tires are nearly on the curb as the vibrating hum from inside of the vehicle pours out. Your eyes flick between the side view mirror to the tinted window rolling down, leather seats in your vision. The song in your earbuds comes to an end revealing the loud whistle floating in the space, it makes you roll your eyes and settle your movements.

“Hey baby,” The words were muffled causing you to tug one bud out and turn towards the black coupe.

“Hi,” You say while giving a faint smile, body turning and leaning into the vehicle. The smell of mint and weed was welcomed with the gas in the air, only making your nose wrinkle and eyes look towards green ones.

His hair was messy today, as if he woke up and simply just ran his hands through it and thought it would suffice. His leather jacket was around his shoulders with his usual black attire, fingers dressed with thick sliver rings as they tap against the wheel of the car. A beaming smile was set along his lips which only meant trouble in your eyes.

Harry Styles, the local bad boy who always found himself in mischief. Whether it was for skipping class or dealing weed behind the local corner store, he had a lengthy record already that only grew every other month. Despite everything, it didn’t help that he was a delinquent who was handsome as well; brown curls, heavily tattooed, and face crafted by cherubs, he was hot but not someone you would want to be caught with.

“You go to St. Martins, right?” Harry continues, eyes peering over his black shades and into yours. You couldn’t help the tingle in your spine, it’s happening.

“Uh yeah…” You answer, eyebrows knotting in confusion. Hmm… What exactly did Harry want? Why all of a sudden was he talking to you.

“I go to the public school across from it,” He reveals, only making you let out a laugh.

“I know… I hear,” You say, eyes flickering between his car and him. The whole town knows what Harry’s car sounds like, you could tell he was coming from miles away.

“Is it really that loud?” He says sarcastically, eyebrows pushing together with a bright smile. You roll your eyes in response, your body relaxing a bit while your hands shift around in your pocket.

“You’re a senior too?” He ask, one hand leaving the wheel and landing on the middle console, making him lean in closer.

“Yeah,” You simply respond, looking at the way his hair falls over his forehead.

“What a coincidence…” Harry remarks, smirk now stretching across his lips as he leans his head to the side. “You know I always see you walking when I’m driving home… I can always drop you off?” He suggests. You feel your heart drop in your chest and stomach twist.

As much as you want to get into this dangerously handsome man’s car, you know you shouldn’t. Yes, you both grew up in the same town together and are around the same age but, you don’t know Harry. You bite down on your bottom lip, fingers twisting in your jacket as you pull away from the door and stand straight.

“I appreciate it but I’m good,” You say, another faint smile spreading on your lips as you watch Harry’s head now lean back, charcoal frames covering his eyes completely.

“Oh come on… It’s cold and my ride is nice and warm,” Harry remarks, lips curling and foot leaning off the brakes as the car begins to peel away slowly. You shake your head and begin your previous movements towards your house. Yes, it was cold outside but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, you didn’t need a ride from him.

“I can cut your walk down by three minutes,” He continues, the heels of your boots echoing against the concrete.

“I’m good!” You call back, hand slipping out of your jacket and taking your headphone to put back in your ear.

“Let me drop you home,” Harry responds, only making you roll your eyes again, chewing down on your bottom lip.

His calls proceed ranging from “I can bring you home,” to drawn out “Hello’s,” but to each one you ignored. Your feet continue to carry you but at a much faster pace than before. The only thing you can think in this moment is where the hell is anyone to witness this.

Soon, you are near the local hiker trail of your town, your head still tucked down at your feet as you peel away from the side walk and cut towards the path. Now you were stepping on dry leaves with your heart pounding through your ears, you let your head twist around swiftly to where you see Harry’s coupe.

Windows up and blowing smoke in the air as it was parked against the curb. At that point you begin to jog lightly through the forest; boots breaking sticks and hands swishing by your side as you tried to navigate where you go from there. It wasn’t normal for you to take this path home, you always stick to your usual route but now there was an obstacle in your way.

Chest heaving and heart beating uncontrollably, you kept turning your head around to see if he was still even following you. Maybe you were actually going crazy thinking that the Harry Styles would be following you just because you declined a ride home from him but, just as you twist your head around to look in front of you, you immediately bump into a warm chest, eyes peering up and locking with his.

“Did you really think you could get away from me?” He questions, voice slow as he steps closer to you, making you take one back. A smirk rests on Harry’s lips, arms linking together with the smell of his scent filling your nose.

The only thing you could do was stare, you were not expecting Harry to be standing in front of you right now. Where did he even come from and how could you not have heard him. Now your chest was pinching with pains as your nerves were driving you up the wall.

“I asked you a question.” Harry states. Lips in a line as he took another step towards you.

“I—I don’t need a ride home,” You mutter, fingers going to the ends of your black skirt as you feel over the pantyhose there.

“That wasn’t the question.” He says, hand now tearing away from him and gripping your elbow. That only makes a gasp slip from your lips and eyes bulge.

“Let go of me,” You mutter, trying to break free from his hold but that only makes him apply more pressure.

“Answer my question,” Harry insists, the strength he has on your arm pulling you closer into his chest.

You swallow once again, the wetness between your legs already beginning to flood your panties as you try to not break character. You bite down on your bottom lip, eyes flickering between the sliver zippers on his jacket to his olive globes.

“Yes.” You say calmly, the trees rustling as the sky begins to fade to grey.

The heat of Harry’s palm is welcomed across your cheek, his hand tearing away from your elbow and gripping your hair as he tugs your head back to look at you with a grin on his face. You bit down harder on your bottom lip to try and suppress yourself. Your hands move away from your skirt and hold onto Harry’s biceps, your eyes peering up at him through your mascara coated lashes as you gently try to push him off you.

“Let go,” You cry, only making the grip he has in your hair tighten as he tugs your head down. A hiss leaving your lips making your eyes flutter.

“What are you gonna do about it? Huh?” Harry smirks, pulling your hair again and that makes your eyes close and a painful moan escape. The feeling of your head throbbing as his fingers toy with the hairs, it had your thighs pressing together and teeth going back to dig in the flesh.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” He mutters, eyes searching for any hesitation. Fuck you were so turned on, the way he can be aggressive with you one second to loving the next.

One night after Harry snuck through your window, with shared spliff between the both of you following a heated make out session, he somehow manage to get you to confess to one of your most intimate desires. He agreed to do it however, only on his terms; which only made you grow with excitement because you never knew when he would play along to your fantasy. So, when you opted to act clueless to him and he encouraged the idea that you both don’t know each other you knew what was about to happen, and that made your heat throb between your legs.

“Yes,” You whimper, lips immediately welcomed with Harry’s, the taste of mint burning on yours. You moan immediately, hands relaxing against Harry’s arms as you let yourself get wrapped up in him.

One of his hands fall from your hair to roam down your back and cup your ass, pushing him deeper into you and welcoming you into his warmth. His other hand ran down the nape of your neck to hug the skin there, tongues twisting around each other as you submit yourself fully to him. Harry’s scent fills your nose, just the smell of his cologne alone had your knees bending in weakness. You couldn’t help how aroused you are, the feeling of his growing member pressing against you only reassures you that he wants this too.

“On your knees.” He commands, tearing away from your lips. Fingers now lace in your hair as you let your legs squat down and look up at him, your hands falling to his hips and running over his thick bulge.

Black nails fumble over each other as you undo his belt and relieve him, tongue running over your bottom lip looking at hard he is; angry veins running along the base to tip varying in size, you take one of your hands off your hip and let it dip between your thighs, the way his cock looks in front of you made you want to come from the sight.

“Hmph,” You hum, when you feel Harry’s hand tug your hair back to make you peer up at him, his face cold with lips glistening with the mixture of you both.

“Did I say you can touch yourself?” He asks, only making you shake your head slightly. This causes him to yank your head again. “I asked a question.” He stated, voice strong and raw. God, you wanted him to fuck you right there.

“No,” You say, hand tearing away from your thighs and going to fall to his pelvic bone, your other messaging his thigh.

“Good girl,” Harry hums, his fingers relaxing and massaging your scalp as you lean forward. Hands going to the base of his shaft as your tongue dips out of your mouth and runs over the slit of his head, licking over the dip before letting your lips suckle his crown.

Saliva coats your lips, sinking deeper and deeper until you find a good rhythm, head slightly bobbing while feeling him stretch your throat with each flex. Harry’s left hand welcomes itself on your cheek, letting himself have a grip over your mouth and making his hips rock into you. You halt your movements, eyes fluttering up to look up at him as he delve into your throat, lips spreading around his thick member letting him thrust into you.

“Gonna be a good girl for me,” Harry says, eyes hooded and fingers tensing against your jaw, making you moan as you tear away from him.

“Yes,” You breathe out looking up at him, hands going to the base of his shaft and running over the coated member. He looks so sexy staring down at you; hair framing his face, teeth tucked on top the skin of his lips while he focuses on tearing your throat apart just the way you want.

Your response causes him use to use the grip he has on your jaw to make you lean forward and welcome him into your mouth once again, hand now massaging whatever you can’t fit while the other ran up and down his clothed thigh.

The sound of Harry’s dick rocking into your throat fills your ears as tears begin to swell your waterline, the thickness of him down your throat only making it ache as he halts his hips, fingers holding you still as he shoves himself down, his waist halting as you take him all the way.

You watch his head knock back and the fingers in your hair relax, a sigh of relief escapes him. He holds you like that for what felt like two minutes until he pulls his hips back, a deep breath drawing from you before he’s rocking into you like that four more times and you feel your throat burn from the stretch.

A pleasant hum leaves your ruined throat as Harry pulls himself away from you, letting a trail of saliva link between your lips and his cock. “Look so perfect like this,” Harry sighs, hand slipping from your hair and wiping the string of spit.

You blink up at him, holding back tears as you feel your throat burn in pleasure. You were afraid if you spoke it would come out as a squeal, so instead you bite down on your swollen lip at the piece of thickness in front of you, glistening in your fluid.

Harry watches your gaze go to his cock, a smirk now adoring his features. His grip on your jaw releases and goes to your shoulders, bringing you back to stand up, his hands now falling to your hips and turning you around to shove you against the dried out stream that had trees framing it with others further back. It makes more privacy for the area because of the hanging branches.

Your feet stumble over the loose rocks, while your chest presses against the old tree. Harry’s hands feel your backside in his grip before taking your skirt in hand and peeling it over the flesh. His fingers immediately going to your stockings, ripping the material causing you to let out a small gasp when you feel the cool air hit your bottom.

“Fuck… Look at you,” He whispers, his hands going to your lace panties and pressing his fingers against your heat, the cold metal from his rings erupts a broken moan to escape your lips. Three fingers rub against you, playing with your clit, making the wet spot you were squatting in spread against your folds.

“Baby,” You cry, voice raw and raspy, it basically pained you to talk. Your nails dig into the dry lumber as you push your hips back.

That lands a hard smack to your cheeks, a whimper now leaving you and eyes fluttering shut. All you want was Harry to fuck you till you see stars; you want him to fill you up so bad you will be walking funny tomorrow.

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl,” Harry hums, the feeling of his hand spreads against your red cheeks were he places three more strikes on your flesh, heavy and painful due to the added feeling of the rings on his fingers. His chest against your back, member aligned with your heat and rubbing against you, making your head knock against the tree.

“Baby,” You moan, voice small as you feel his breath against your ear. Your eyes open as you prop your foot against the stump. Your backside sinking back and nearly making the head of his dick enter you.

“Want me so bad, don’t you?” Harry questions. Running himself between your dripping folds which only has you arching your back into him. You nod your head silently, eyes turning to see the position you’re in. Harry was completely towering over you, hips parallel with yours as his lips were warm against the skin behind your ear.

“Talk to me love,” He breathes into you, making you whimper and push yourself down onto him more. The head of his dick rubbing against your clit and sending pleasure up your legs. “Beg for me.” He continues into your ear, making your heart pound in your chest. You were so turned on, you want nothing more than for him to fill your walls.

“Please, H. Please let me feel you,” You mumble, left hand tearing away from the wood and skimming against his neck to run into his hair. “Please baby… Been so good to you.” Mutter dazedly, hips gently rocking against his movements.

That makes Harry hum, the noise vibrating against the skin of your neck as you feel him draw away from you and let his head breach your hole. Your tongue escaping your mouth to wet your lips as you feel him push into you, spreading your pussy blissfully as he sinks into your dripping heat.

“Mhm my good little girl.” Harry mumbles into your ear, hips meeting your backside only to draw back to dive into you again.

A raspy cry escapes you, the euphoric feeling of him filling you up just where you loved him the most. Your walls welcome him home as he picks up his motions, his lips burning into your skin as he buries himself in you with each thrust. The sound of your whimpers and torn moans was met with the wetness between your legs.

Your pussy throbs with the feeling of him diving into you, the fluid running down your inner thighs making you feel as if you were underwater. Harry’s dick continues thrusting into you so forcibly that it had you curling your fingers into his hair and into the flaking cracks of the tree.

“You love the way I fuck you.” Harry urges, his hand leaving your hip and wrapping around your throat, the feeling of his rings digging into the skin as he squeezed. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

“Yes,” You mutter, your legs slightly quivering from your pussy going sore due to how hard Harry is pounding into you.

“Wanted to be fuck like this all along, huh,” He eggs on, voice so deep in your ear it was if he was your conscience. That had you biting down on your bottom lip, your eyes barely peel open to look at the broken twigs in your vision bouncing from Harry’s movements behind you. The feeling of your oxygen being slowly cut off from the stern hold he has on your neck.

“Dirty girl,” He teases, the hand on your hip shoving your back down on him with each thrust. “Wanted to be my slut for tonight,” The name he gives making you moan, and causing your legs to shiver once again.

“Yes, all yours,” You moan breathlessly, your pussy throbbing with the bubbling feeling in your stomach as your back dips down even more to accept the feeling of Harry spreading you apart.

“My good little slut.” Harry hums. You whine as his pace continues, eyes begin to flutter from the lack of air and your climax climbing up your spine.

The intense burning sensation in your stomach causes your hands to grow with sweat as he never slows down his movements, the way he was in you and whispering how dirty you are for getting off to this has your mind in a warp. It felt so good to get the fantasy that you always held in the back of your mind to finally come undone before you.

The fact he pretended to know who you were, yet continued to bother you until he had you vulnerable, you were so turned on playing back the moment of him slapping you and tugging on your hair for playing dumb to him. Just those thoughts had you expelling more wetness out of you and tug Harry’s head deeper into your skin.

He’s thrusting into you roughly as the sunsets along you both with the trees covering your sweaty clothed bodies. “So sexy,” Harry breathes into your skin, his nose brushing up against the back of your neck as the grip on your throat never loosens.

“Fuck,” You choke, vision going blurry as you felt the spit in your throat go down achingly slow.

The pulsing feeling in your clit draws up your spine and makes your toes curl in your boots, knees going weak but Harry didn’t stop his restless movements. Your lungs hammer in your chest, begging for an inch of oxygen as your pussy is drips with your sweet mixture. Your high taking over your nerves and releasing yourself all over him.

The hold Harry has on your neck relieves its grip while the one that forces your hips down was now wrap around you; lifting you into his chest as he keeps on going. Lips still pressing against your hot skin, breath blowing the tiny hairs there while the hand you have in his curls in lets go and falls into the wood.

“God you feel so good,” He rasps in your ear, the foot you had on the stump slipping and making your chest completely lean into the tree now, back meeting his thrusts even more.

The feeling overcoming your climax had you in a complete frenzy, your legs quivering as whimpers and the sound of the wetness emerging from your pussy fills your ears, your eyes begging to close but with each lunge of Harry hips they were jerking back open. Your sight being met with the darkness of the sky and the bunched up leaves by your feet.

“Love fucking your pussy,” Harry grunts, his hand leaving your throat to grip your hair in his hands and tug your head back. A whine tears through your throat, head now looking up at the natural cravings into the tree as the feeling of his hips begin to slow down.

Wet kisses press down your neck as the feeling of him draws out of you before seeping back in, the grasp he has on your hair relaxing as he begins to massage your scalp, his movements of his rolling hips slow until his seed is sinking into you.

It makes Harry groan, his hand turning your head and locking your lips together, the taste of him on your tongue as you drink him in. His hips meeting yours sluggishly until he pulls out of you, his member leaving your sore pussy and letting the fluid of you both spill out. You sigh out from the feeling of his thickness leaving and the mixture running down your ripped up stockings.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Harry breathes against your lips. The hand he has on your hip slips between your folds and catches the fluid between his two fingers, bringing them to your face.

Your focus goes to them and licks the substance off, tongue twisting between each digit to get every drop.

“My dirty girl,” Harry rasps, his lips sinking back onto yours to taste you both.

The pounding in your chest subsides, your fingers releasing the strong hold they had against the wood as you lean into his touch. The once muffled noise in your ears welcomes the sound of Harry’s jacket jingling.

The bubbling feeling of excitement from your accomplishment tingles your ears and lets a smirk tear and break the kiss. It makes faint one run along his, two fingers that are clean from your tongue holding your jaw with the same grip he had when he was ruining your throat.

“What?”

“If you can do this, I’m sure you’re up for the other fantasies I have…”

[dronarryfest]

Here we are on week two of Dronarry Fest 24! We've had some incredible works this week. Here's a roundup of everything from week 2 (last week's post can be found here). Thank you to all of our wonderful readers for commenting and kudos-ing - keep them coming! We've got one more wonderful week of works to share with you from Monday onwards! Until then, why not stick the kettle on and catch up on what you've missed...

[FIC] The Favourite || E || 17k || by @mallstars

On a throne of glitzing clutter, Draco Malfoy sits like a degenerate prince. His robes are the colour of sour champagne, celestial patterns stitched across the sweeping silk where it drapes over sharp shoulders and cradles a spindly waist. A rain of glitter dangles from one of his ears, and his expression is nauseating. The curl of his lip, the upturn of his pompous nose. Draco is a criminal. Harry and Ron are the Aurors who arrest him.

💭 absurdly hot- horribly hot? hotly horrible? perfect - garagepaperback

💭 holy moly this just drips with atmosphere and tension and its glorious... i love love love this fucked up dynamic thats also so sweet and human and morally ambiguous and hot - littlepocketbattleship

[FIC] Nightswimming || M || 5k || by @sweet-s0rr0w

Weasley flicks the light on. “I got off with a guy once, you know,” he says, casually, holding the torch up between his gloved fingers. “What?” says Draco, glancing over sharply. “No, you didn’t.” “I did,” Weasley insists, and there’s an air of mischief about him now. “Just after the divorce.” Draco tightens his grip on the steering wheel and wills his eyes to stay on the road, a dozen different scenarios playing out vivid in his mind. “But Harry’s never—” “Yeah, well.” Weasley clicks the torch back off. “Turns out Harry and I don’t share everything, after all.”

💭 This was wonderful!! The tension, next level 🔥🔥🔥 and I love how Harry is such a big part of this even though he's not physically there. So clever! - lemonlimelea

💭 What a feast - the prose, the dialogue, the teasing curiosity morphing into irresistible want, the clever and careful character development underneath it all. Everything so masterfully crafted and scorching hot I could feel my cheeks burning and they haven’t even kissed. What the fuck. I’m entranced still 🥵 - sitp

[FIC] Welcome, Peasants || E || 15k || by @fluxweeed

Ron was doing Draco a favour by agreeing to investigate him. Better Ron than someone who’d plant something horrific to get Draco sent to Azkaban—or some pervy Potter fanatic who’d spend the whole hour sniffing the dirty clothes on Harry’s bedroom floor. Even though Ron had to take Polyjuice and break into their flat to do it, Harry and Draco would understand. They’d appreciate it. And if Ron had done more “investigating” and less “snogging his best friend while Polyjuiced as said best friend’s secret boyfriend”, maybe it would have all been fine.

💭 Love the dynamics between the three of them - and the reveal that Ron caused Harry and Draco to get together was so unexpected and absolute perfection! Hot and amazing as always, I’m so delighted you choose to share these with us. ❤️ - rainstormradish

💭 I absolutely love that Ron is so absolutely bad at it that they clock him immediately, leaving him with his squirmy, guilty, horny feelings as they rightly should. Perfect interplay of the three of them. Yes! Yes! yes! (One for each of them). - skeptique

[FIC] Careless || E || 2k || by @piximera

They hadn't seen anyone in weeks, making them a little careless about the protective charms. Unfortunately for once they really fucked up, leaving them in the clutches of six Death Eaters. Being caught was bad enough, but then Scabior forces Draco into raping Harry in front of them before the Dark Lord arrives.

💭 HOLY SHIT this WAS dirtyhotwrong for sure! 🔥🔥🔥 Wow. Fantastic job, and thanks so much for the gift 🥰 - Schmem_14

💭 This is so dark and angsty, love seeing this take on the pairing. Thank you!!! - oknowkiss

[FIC] Dick Chicken || E || 14k || by @oknowkiss

This is a story about nothing.

💭 HOW DO YOU DO IT?! Can I climb inside your brain and live there?! God this was so goddamn amazing. I just love it more than I can say. - nv-md

💭 oh my ever-wanking LAMB this was too brilliant. i am going to die of having read this fic. it is simultaneously too funny (in honor of the source material) and too hot (not at all in honor of the source material). - elskan_ellis

[am-i-soup]

Hot Wheels (a tfp fanfic)

Chapter 1: Uncanny Valley, Nevada

AO3 || Chapter 2 (peek)

Summary: So, Lena was abducted by aliens. Robot aliens. That's- no, it's not cool! She could die at any moment! So what if the red guy was hilarious to rile up and watched horror movies with her? And his husband was like the fun uncle she never had? Their boss wouldn't hesitate to step on her, and the screechy beanpole had already threatened to stab her, like, five times. She can only bullshit her way into being useful for so long. If she could just find a way to contact Miko... oh, and get help. That, too.

-----

When Lena thought of aliens, she pictured xenomorphs and flesh abominations like that thing from The Thing: vaguely man-ish shapes that make your brain go "Hey, I don't like that" because why does it share the same body plan as a human? Why is it trying to look like us? She was all over that uncanny valley-type shit. Invasion? Get that girl a baseball bat and some vaguely spherical objects and set her loose. Unleeess the aliens had plans to abolish capitalism - because then she'd switch up lickety-split. She was ready to bash in some billionaire brains (what little they had, heheh).

Lena never would've guessed alien cars. She didn't even think 'alien' when the door of the speed demon she giddily tried to get an autograph from opened to reveal no driver at all. The only thought running through her mind when a taser popped out of the dash was, Even the cars are opps, followed by, Jean's gonna be so pissed. Her skateboard clattered to the pavement as her body fell limp into the idling sports car. A melodious beep-beep, beep, beep-beep twittered from the watch around her limp wrist, falling silent after another light zap.

"Ohh, I'm so fragged," said the sports car. "Breakdown, how mad do you think Lord Crazy-eyes will be if I show up with a fleshie?"

Had Lena known she'd get abducted that night, she would've at least packed a sweater. Or, y'know, avoided it altogether. Catching up to the shmancy red racer with those hard-as-hell yellow rims after he dusted everyone else probably wasn't the smartest move, but excitement had won over caution. Her foster parents would be giving her the most baffled reactions if they knew, and then another conversation about impulsive thoughts that should stay thoughts and, "Where is your survival instinct, pastelita? Look: you're already giving me greys."

The day had started good. Correction: decent, considering it was hot as balls and she had a math test. On a Friday. Lena shambled through her morning routine and tied back her side-swept hair to avoid brushing it. Her baseball cap covered the shaved side, proudly displaying the number 04 stitched above the red brim. Wyatt emerged from his bedroom, a similar case of bedhead making his brown curls wilder than usual. His casual formalwear was more put-together than he, and would remain so because brushing was for dumb losers, probably.

Jean, notably not dumb or a loser, had pulled her hair up into a thick bun of dark waves; a colourful bandana laid overtop. Remarkedly more effort, made obvious by the minimal effort of matching with work overalls.

Jean squinted and gestured to Lena's hair. "You're leaving so much out. What's even the point of putting it up?"

"I like it," Lena drowsily defended, flicking her head aside to adjust the free chunk of blonde hair framing one side of her face. "It's cool."

"'Cool' when we were your age meant being able to see your whole field of vision. Eesh, at least clip it back - how do you expect to see the ball like that?" Lena responded with a shrug and Jean exhaled in a huff. "Alright, pastelita, get your 'cool'-lata in the car." Jean carried out her husband's mobility aid and said, "You want your cane, hon?"

"Eh, might as well," Wyatt said whilst fighting a yawn. "My knee doesn't want me dead today."

The three of them piled into the car and Jean pulled onto the road. Lena decided now was a good time.

"I was gonna go to the skate park after practice," she announced.

Jean glanced at her in the mirror. There went the eyebrows. "For how long?"

"Couple'a hours."

"Uh-huh." And the dubious tone...

"Promise I'll be back before dark! And Jaiden and the other skaters are gonna be there. I won't forget again."

Wyatt twisted around to see Lena better. "That's fine. Just set your watch, 'kay? Seven o'clock. I better hear that front door open before seven thirty or I'll sic Jean on you."

"Like a sack of potatoes," Jean said. The car's engine rumbled fiercely as they paused at the stop light, amplifying her threat.

Remembering last time - and the times before that - Lena's face contorted. A set of rapid nods turned her into a great impersonation of a bobblehead. "Yep. Yep. Seven. Understood." She set the alarm on her vibrantly pink watch under Wyatt's scrutiny. It beeped. He smiled, satisfied, and settled properly in his seat.

Lena helped Wyatt extract his walker from the trunk and Jean drove off with a goodbye that was far more cheerful than anyone should be this early in the morning. It was pay day, wasn't it? Lena should ask Wyatt to sneak her some coffee from the break room. He caved easy.

Wyatt went through the side door up the ramp while Lena trudged her way toward the main entrance of the school. He was thrilled for class, which made one of them. Only he could make computers and programming somehow fun. Other students waited on the sparse lawn and parking lot of Jasper Memorial High School, walking in early like punctual weirdos or loitering like her. Lena dropped her backpack and stepped onto her board, rolling around the tiny parking lot. She sourly eyed the spot of the missing bench, removed for exactly the reason one might think. Lena mourned the sick moves she got off that metal bench.

Lena spotted a kid from class studying and groaned. She'd skip, but she didn't want to disappoint her foster parents like that again. She cringed when she recalled the first time she did skip - or, rather, the first time they becameaware she'd skipped - back when she wouldn't bat an eye because what did they care? They just wanted a cheque from the state like every other family that tried to claim they 'Just want what's best for you' and then sent her back when what she wanted didn't fit those rigid little boxes.

The devastated looks on Jean and Wyatt's faces when thirteen-year-old Lena exploded at them was forever burned into her memory. She'd ran afterward, down the driveway and into the night, no destination in mind. And then Jean had found her, curled up on a kiddie slide. Lena faintly remembered the confusion of seeing Jean exit the vehicle, the tentative hope when Jean sat on the slide beside her and just... listened. No adult had ever listened to her before. That was the night Lena knew they were for real. Lena couldn't call them parents - she might never utter the words 'Mom' or 'Dad' - and that was okay. The cool couple that saw a feral pre-teen and said, "That's the one" was good enough for her. They joked about wanting a kid, but not the stress of pregnancy or toddler years. "Pre-baked," Wyatt had once teased.

Lena's hip bleeped. She paused her skating to fish out the hungry Tamagotchi clipped to her cargo pants. She'd made it her mission to care for the digital pet since Mi-

"Leee!" a voice squealed, followed by a pair of arms wrapping around her waist. "Hi!"

Hey, speaking of!

"Hi," Lena greeted with a big smile on her face. "Plans still solid?"

Lena heard Miko's grin. "Oh, yeah. I'm so pumped. Weekend Wreck-fest is in. The. Bag! I got Raf to download basically every slasher and horror onto a USB for me." Miko dangled the USB in Lena's face, and Lena stored it in her pocket.

"Suh-weet! Jean's letting us have the garage. We're gonna move the TV and couch in."

"Uh, don'tcha mean Jean is gonna move them?"

"Hey, I got muscle!" Lena flexed her arms, squishy with stubborn baby fat. Miko poked an unimpressive bicep. "These babies got me top batter."

"Is that even a real title?"

"It totally is."

"Okay, 'batter baby'."

"Batt- what?"

"Nothing, baby, what's the batter with you?"

Lena scoffed out a laugh and spun around to gently bop Miko on her massive forehead. "Dude," Lena said, "that was so bad."

"So bad it's good?"

"No, just bad." Lena playfully pushed Miko away and kicked off on her skateboard. "Where are you getting these, Puns 101 for Dummies? You gotta step up your game, dude."

Miko trailed after Lena, a bubbly bound to her gait. "Hey, I'm always at the top of my game!" A loud-ass horn honked and Miko spun around to wave enthusiastically at the green SUV. "See ya later! Put some dents in those junkheaps for me." Its headlights flashed, then Miko's friend drove off.

Lena was wary of the guy at first, but she'd never seen Miko so ecstatic as the few months she'd known him. Military, Miko had said, and then snickered when Lena mimed gagging herself.

"Not American military," Miko had clarified before going off about something else.

Lena had spoken to the SUV's owner a couple times. He went by the nickname Bulk and seemed genuine enough, nothing sinister on the surface. Friendly and loud - songs Lena recognized often blared from the speakers when he picked Miko up for sci-fi club. A goofball, and the kind of energy that got along with Miko's like a house fire. Lena was just glad Miko was making friends. Small town middle-of-nowhere America was super rough, especially for a foreign kid who couldn't fit in, and who didn't want to. A flash of orange hair caught Lena's eye. She met Vince's bitter gaze and put her finger and her thumb in the shape of an L on her forehead, sticking out her tongue for good measure. He sneered and turned back to his buddies. Lena smirked.

The bell rang. Kids funneled into the building. Lena made it halfway to homeroom before she had to navigate backwards against the sea of teenagers to fetch her forgotten backpack. She collapsed into her chair just as the pledge and national anthem started over the PA system. As per usual, Lena remained in her seat. Also per usual, the teacher glared at her. Lena passive-aggressively adjusted her baseball cap, drawing attention to the pins clustered on it that sported all sorts of slogans such as THIS LAND IS THEIR LAND and LAND ISN'T FREE. Yeah, none of the teachers liked her. But Lena wasn't here to be liked. Supposedly, she was here for an education. In a system that squashed individuality and trained students to sit down, shut up, memorize, and obey.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lena spotted Miko doodling in her sketchbook. Lena texted a sequence of emojis embodying all the joy Lena couldn't contain (unamused, several Z's, sleepy). Miko replied, equally as zealous (sick, skull, ghost).

"Girls! Phones away!" the teacher barked over announcements, tapping a ruler on her desk. "Do I need to take them?"

Lena shot over one more emoji (barf) before tucking her phone away and exchanging it for a textbook to inanely flick through, one knee persistently jiggling as it so frequently did the moment she became idle. She glanced at the clock, which hadn't moved in five minutes. Lena leaned back, suppressing a groan. The day could not be over soon enough.

Soon enough, the day was over. Thank fuck.

School dragged on and on and on, the only reprieve being lunch - when she got to lounge around with Miko at their spot - and gym class, where Lena was able to go batshit during dodgeball and climb on things that were actually meant to be climbed on (trees didn't count, according to faculty). Lena had softball practice after, and boy, was she glad Jean made her carry around a tube of sunscreen. Whoof, that Nevada sun would kill a man. Miko hung around to cheer her on and snap some pics of Lena eating dirt to touch base. Those were going in the scrapbook, for sure. A shower and chugged water bottle later and Lena was off to the skate park. Miko's ride whisked her away, her cries of, "Don't miss me too much!" on the wind. Miko hung out the SUV window, dramatically reaching for Lena like some cheesy romance flick. Lena tried to keep up on her board, and when it was time to split off, blew Miko a kiss that was caught and turned into devil horns.

Jaiden and her gang were chilling on the play structures when Lena rolled up. Jaiden and Kayla were perched atop and hanging upside-down from the spiderweb dome, respectively. Kayla spotted her first and beckoned her over.

"How's it goin', fireball?" said Tami.

"Hello, Padawan. Welcome to my zen zone," Vee said from the ground, flat on their back under a tree and beanie pulled over their eyes. The distinct scent of weed hung around Vee. Lena claimed the free swing next to Tami, who was being pushed by Theo. The group chatted. Theo made the executive decision to skate, and they all migrated over to the cement playground that served as Jasper's skate park. Jaiden, Lena, and Tami joined him while Vee and Kayla spectated, conversation topics leaping to and fro at the whims of neurodivergent teenagers.

"Yo, Lena, you hear about the race later tonight?" Jaiden said.

Suffice it to say, Lena did not stay at the park. The race location was scribbled in her science notebook, which had also coincidentally become a second doodle book for Miko. She rolled till the dirt roads forced her to kick it on foot, board strapped to her backpack.

Honk-honk!

A bright blue muscle car rumbled past. Lena trotted after it. The older teens that she stuck to like a determined burr had no interest in street races, but they kept an ear out for Lena, who absolutely did. She found the small crowd huddled around and the line-up of vehicles raring to go. Lena preferred being early to ogle at the cars and mingle, but she was happy just to be there. She recognized most of the faces. Street races were one of few recreational activities in Jasper, and they happened every other week if you knew the right people. Considering everyone knew everyone, you'd be hard-pressed not to have at least heard about it.

The blue muscle car sat in its spot, driver cool as a cucumber as she leaned on the door and chatted to whomever. Lena eyeballed the woman's cropped leather jacket and unbothered, confident demeanour. She found herself leaning against a rickety wooden fencepost, totally not mimicking the badass in blue (dammit, she totally was). The driver noticed her and smiled. For some reason, Lena's face heated up.

She called Lena over. "Hey, kid! Nice board. You get that custom done?"

"Yup," said Lena. "I love your car." And your jacket.

"Ah, thanks. Ritika's my baby; I built her from the ground up. You like racing?"

"I love racing. The speed and the- augh, the, y'know, the everything. Boom! Wah-cha!" Combined with pantomimed punches, Lena filled in the blanks. "The whole feeling."

"Ha, yeah, I getcha. Hey, you know what? I'm part of a racing league. We're always looking for new players. If you're interested someday- dhhatt. You got a pen, kid?"

"Lena," Lena said, digging a pencil out of her bag.

"Lena? Thanks for comin' out to cheer me on. My name's Sharwa." Sharwa scribbled on a wrinkled scrap of paper and passed it on. "That's our business number. Hit us up if racing for profit - or just for the hell of it - strikes your fancy. Finish school first, though, huh? Get your education. Don't wanna be a dropout like me."

I wish, Lena thought. Someone yelled; they were about to begin. Lena went to join the crowd of onlookers, but the glossy red sports car pulling up to the function stopped her in her tracks. Lena gawked. Purple flame decals embellished its crimson flanks and eye-sore yellow rims distinguished it from the rest of the competition. Sharwa called out to the driver; Lena didn't hear the reply. Sharwa was grinning. Oh, shit, did they have a rivalry going on? Racing drama!?

Lena inched closer.

"Give it your best shot," oozed a roguish masculine voice, punctuated by a rich rev of his engine. "Victory tastes so much sweeter when they try."

Sharwa laughed. "Put your pedal where your mouth is, batuni."

"Oh, I will."

Racing drama. Cool.

Engines growled. Spectators cheered. The starter raised their hat. Lena held her breathe.

The hat dropped. Dust billowed up in thick clouds as cars roared to life. Lena held her cap in place. Her eyes stung, but she couldn't look away from the beasts tearing up the road, becoming shrinking shapes on the impromptu racetrack. The setting sun burned red on the sand, transforming the desert into a sea of rust. Or blood. Lena scampered over to a cluster of boulders and scaled them. She watched, enraptured. The racers completed one lap, and there was a noticeable lead.

The red car seized a strong first. Chasing his tail was Sharwa and third place, the rest of the pack lagging behind. Red slowed down - or Sharwa caught up? - and then the 180 happened.

Red spun around, keeping his speed and maintaining his position backwards. It was the single most peacocky maneuver Lena had seen, and she was living for it. She wasn't big on NASCAR or actual cars: this is what she loved. Being in the moment, feeling the wind on her skin and the excitement in her veins. It was the thrill she chased when she rolled down steep ramps and pulled a risky stunt mid-air. It was the feeling of rejecting limits and just going for it.

The moment red finished first was the same moment the cops showed up.

"Scatter!" someone shouted, but the crowd had already dispersed. Lena dropped from her watchtower and bolted in the same direction as the victor. Cracked pavement replaced packed dirt and Lena jumped onto her board. Distant sirens wailed behind her. Shadows elongated. Lights of Jasper blinked in the low glow of dusk. Lena caught up to the taillights, to her surprise. Possible introductions ran through her head.

"Hey!" The car jolted in response. Did she startle him? "Wait up!" He sped up, and Lena yelled, "You were awesome back there! Nobody even stood a chance!"

He slowed to a crawl. Lena beamed and kicked her board up into her hands. The car's windows were tinted almost black.

"Hmm. Do go on about how awesome I am," he said.

Lena appealed to his ego with genuine compliments. He was receptive, but that changed when Lena asked him to sign her skateboard. If a car could recoil, this one would. Audible disgust dripped from his tone.

"Keep your primitive twig on wheels to yourself," he said. "There's enough filth clinging to my paint already."

Lena wrinkled her nose. "A 'no' would've worked just fine. Jeez, man. You a dick to all your fans?"

"Just the whiny ones."

Lena wasn't about to let that slide. "Alright. Why don't you come out and say that to my face like a grown-ass man?"

Now, Lena... well, she never claimed to be a genius, but picking a fight with a random man on the outskirts of town - illuminated overhead by a sketchy streetlight - would be obvious to anyone as a bad idea. If this was a horror movie, she'd be yelling at the idiot on-screen to get the fuck outta dodge. Lena, however, functioned on two modes: chilling, and throwing herself at the closest douchebag. Her street cred was insane. So when she rapped on the nearly opaque window, she expected some guy to step out and underestimate her because what could a fifteen-year-old do to him? But nobody did. She cupped a hand around her eyes to peer inside.

The wind was knocked out of her when the door flew open. She stumbled, then rounded the door to confront the-

There was no one inside the vehicle.

A taser shot out of the dashboard and delivered a hearty zap! between her eyes. She toppled forward. A seatbelt snaked around her and hauled her awkwardly into the seat.

Lena's watch beeped. 7:00 lit up the digital display.

Getting kidnapped was probably a good reason for missing curfew, right?

AO3 || Chapter 2 (peek)

[femininenachos]

Who makes the first move in vacation au

Previously

The taverna gets livelier after midnight, when the staff mix with the patrons and the wine really starts flowing. Carafes of cheap yet delicious local red go out at every table, compliments of the owners, along with platters of cheese and olives. Despite her earlier protestations (it would be rude to refuse such generous hospitality, after all), Clarke partakes freely and by the time Octavia returns from an extended trip to the bathroom, she has a pleasant alcohol buzz going.

“Did you get lost on the way? Or did the squid disagree with you?” Clarke smirks into the rim of her glass.

Octavia shoots her a droll look, but it’s soon replaced by a sneaky, private little smile as she retakes her seat.

“What?” Clarke asks, instantly suspicious.

“Nothing bad. We've just been invited to a bar by Lincoln and the rest of the wait staff. He’s even hotter up close, by the way, it’s insane.” Octavia fans herself. “Whew.”

“Mm, pass,” Wells says. “I’ll have to bow out gracefully. It’s been a long day, plus I really want to hit the archaeological sites early tomorrow before the cruise ship hordes descend.”

Octavia sends him a pitying glance, but refrains from insulting his nerdery. She turns her focus to Clarke instead. Waggles her eyebrows. “How about it? Lexa will be there…”

Clarke’s face flushes hot, but she hesitates.

“You should go,” Wells says with an encouraging smile. “At least to make sure O doesn’t get abducted and killed by a stranger whose attractiveness doesn’t preclude him from being a psychopath.”

“Well, that went dark,” Octavia mutters under her breath. “But, yeah, we can be each other’s wingwomen.”

She clasps her hands together, silently begging please, please, please.

Clarke vacillates back and forth; conflicted. On the one hand, she’s bone tired, more tipsy than she cares to admit on only a handful of drinks, and she would kind of like to join Wells on his excursion in the morning. But on the flip side… she hasn’t had any action in six months and Lexa is so, so fucking hot.

While she’s debating it internally, the object of her desire saunters into her field of vision, and Clarke loses her train of thought once she sees that Lexa has changed into open toe sandals, black denim cut-offs and a black t-shirt that reveals an intriguing piece of ink that peeks out from under her sleeve. Her hair is down, falling in soft, flowing waves down her back, and Clarke has a sudden craving to run her fingers through those gorgeous locks. 

She caves.

“Two drinks, max.”

~*~

The bar is an open air spot that’s just a short stroll from the taverna and overlooks the harbour from a vantage point, providing a stunning panoramic vista. A slew of dinky little blue and white fishing boats are docked, bobbing in the water, gleaming amid the pretty harbour lights, with the inky darkness of the sea stretching into the horizon beyond.

On the decks over in the corner a DJ plays soulful, laidback deep house, infectious beats that are hard to resist shimmying to. Lantern lights are strung up between olive trees, adding to the mellow atmosphere. The patrons, a younger crowd that’s a mix of tourists and locals, cluster together in small groups drinking beers and colourful cocktails. 

Clarke slowly nurses a vodka soda and lime, feeling very much like the third wheel while Octavia and Lincoln engage in flirty exchanges. From what Clarke has gleaned, he seems far from the murdering type, a gentleness to him that belies his bulky stature. Bless his heart, he keeps trying to include Clarke in the conversation, but Octavia is adept at commanding his attention with the brash confidence she exudes and her frequent habit of touching his biceps when she speaks.

Besides, Clarke’s mind is elsewhere, conscious of being watched. It makes her skin prickle. Fills her with nervous energy.

They keep sharing glances. 

Every time Clarke looks over, Lexa is staring right back. Curious eyes drawn to one another, scanning up and down. Something thrilling about the way they’re each too restrained to act on their obvious interest—that, or they’re both too stupidly stubborn to make the first move.

But Clarke feels the anticipation building.

Tastes it in the air.

Even though Lexa is with friends, she still stands a little aloof and apart. Now and then, she’s pulled back into their boisterous chatter and jokes, but Clarke finds that intense gaze on her time and again, and it makes her tingle all over.

“And you?” Lincoln asks, jolting her out of her trance. He nods towards the glass in her hand, a small smile on his lips. “Can I buy you another?”

She meets his smile with a distracted one of her own. “Oh, no. I’m good, thanks.”

Once he heads for the bar, her eyes flick in Lexa’s direction again, and Clarke‘s mouth runs dry, noting the graceful line of Lexa’s throat as she swigs from a beer bottle, long fingers wrapped around the neck.

Never in her life has Clarke been so envious of an inanimate object…

An arm swings around her shoulders, startling her and sending a little vodka mix sloshing over the side of the glass onto her hand, and she scowls at Octavia’s unapologetic expression.

“This is physically painful to watch, Griffin. Go talk to her, please.”

“And say what?”

“Just be your charming self. And if that doesn’t work,” Octavia tugs on the neckline of Clarke’s summer dress, “Use the girls.”

“I can’t just sidle up and flash my cleavage at her.”

“Really? Because that’s definitely a thing you’ve done in the past, and you’ve also had a good success rate with it.”

Clarke half-shoves Octavia, raising a wicked laugh. Even so, she allows herself to be turned around by the shoulders and pushed in the direction of Lexa and her group, weak complaints falling on deaf ears.

On her slow approach, Clarke sees Lexa straighten up, pulling that plump bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes trip over Clarke’s form, and for some reason…

Clarke loses her nerve.

At the last second she wheels away, making a beeline for the restroom. It’s empty, thankfully, and she sets down her purse on the counter, rummaging through it to find the tube of lipstick. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she reapplies the colour and presses her lips together to blot, eyeing her reflection critically in the long mirror above the sinks. She primps and preens, giving her hair a little zhuzh. Turns this way and that to admire the fit of her dress, running her hands over her curves.

And, yeah, she’s feeling herself.

She’s got this.

Confidence renewed, she struts out with an extra sway in her hips only to find the space Lexa occupied is now empty. Her heart sinks. Annoyed at herself for squandering the opportunity and a little upset about being abandoned, she casts her eyes around until she spots Octavia by the steps that lead to the street. She beckons Clarke over with a wave.

“Thank God. For a hot second I thought you’d left without me,” Clarke grumbles.

Octavia sends her a look like: girl, please.

“Where’d everyone go?”

“Chill. They’re just waiting for us on the curb side. Linc’s friends want to head on to a club. You in?”

The thought has barely entered Clarke’s mind when Octavia preempts her. “Don’t worry, Lexa’s going too.”

Clarke tries not to react too much, deflecting with a teasing drawl. “Linc, huh? You’ve known him all of five minutes and we’re shortening his name already? Must be serious.”

But unlike Clarke, Octavia is completely unflappable and unfazed. Just flips Clarke the finger and glides away.

~*~

Fewer in number now, their group winds through the labyrinthian jumble of cobbled streets that make up the oldest part of the village. Squat, rustic, pastel-coloured buildings with blue or terracotta doors line the narrow streets, adorned with hanging baskets, trailing vines, and potted plants on window sills.

While Clarke soaks the quaint character of it all in, Lexa smoothly falls into step beside her.

“Your boyfriend didn’t want to come out tonight?” Lexa asks. Eyes ahead. A slight pout on her lips.

Clarke almost trips. “Boyfriend?”

Lexa looks directly at her then, and Clarke nearly loses her footing again on the uneven paving.

“The guy you were with at dinner?”

Clarke’s brows leap up her forehead. 

“Wells?” She barks out a sudden laugh. “Wells isn’t—” She chuckles again. “No. There’s no boyfriend. I am very much free and single.”

Is that what was holding Lexa back? Crossed wires and mistaken assumptions. How gallant.

Lexa studies her a moment longer. Glances away, then back. Something vital and alive dancing in her eyes. Pleased. “Me too.”

Good sits on the tip of Clarke’s tongue, but she holds it in, if not the little smile that follows, her mouth pulling to one side. 

They walk the rest of the way in comfortable silence, their knuckles brushing once or twice before Lexa catches Clarke’s fingers and lets them entwine. A loose, gentle grip, but enough to send the butterflies in Clarke’s stomach into overdrive.

Because it’s such an assured move, and Clarke isn’t used to things being this easy. There’s far too much bullshit around dating, the plethora of apps, the red flags and rules and expectations, so Clarke had chosen to largely opt out of the whole affair. Not that she really has the time or energy with the grueling hours she puts in at the hospital, how she can never quite let go of the heaviness she brings home with her, two qualities that aren’t exactly appealing to most people. 

(Finn told her as much when they broke up, having soon learned that the reality of being with a doctor is not nearly as sexy as Grey’s makes it out to be.)

But there’s freedom in being in a foreign land, where she can be a different, more carefree version of herself, the version that would absolutely entertain the idea of a meaningless hookup with a beautiful, mysterious local. Even if this is a well-tread playbook for Lexa, picking up horny tourists at work for kicks, Clarke is 100% willing to be a notch on that particular bedpost.

It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t know the first thing about this girl.

She wants Lexa. 

Wants that mouth and those hands on her body.

Wants to taste those lips and feel all that tan skin pressed against every inch of her own.

She gets her wish at the club. 

Next

[pinniped-medibots]

Otto never usually remembers his dreams. For him, usually he’d wake up after closing his eyes for what seemed like a couple minutes.

But tonight was one of those nights. Those nights where the memories of the incident returned to haunt him.

He found himself in a black, uncomfortably warm void, an industrial hum being heard in the background as he spun around in circles, looking for someone- anyone to make him feel just a bit safer. Already he was afraid, and the nightmare had barely even begun.

“ARTHUR?? MECHANIC??”

No response.

“…DAD?”

He flinched as he felt something grab on to his wrist. Looking down, he saw what appeared to be a medibot arm reaching out from the darkness, its grip tight no matter how much Otto struggled. Another soon revealed itself, grabbing his other arm and holding him in place as he yelled for them to let go. And then the third arm appeared, coloured a deep, crimson red, and reached out for his face.

Usually this is where his nightmare would end, the arm would grab his face, and then he’d wake up. But not tonight.

The medibot hand latched on and started pulling. Pulling. Pulling until Otto felt nothing but white-hot pain in his head and neck, looking at his now disembodied face dropped to the floor like it was a piece of mere disposable scrap. He looked around in horror as more hands reached out to him, pulling his hull and tugging his coattails until nothing but his internals were left, and even then they still wanted more as he felt a pair of hands cover his eyes as he screamed out.

…

He jolted awake, his eyes glowing in the pitch black of his room as his fans whirred as hard as they could. He sat up in bed and looked at the digital clock that sat on his nightstand. It read 3:47 AM, which was usually when he’d wake up from a nightmare.

Next he looked to the window, looking at his reflection to make sure he was still in once piece, which they were as they breathed a sigh of relief. Though, in the darkness of the night, they noticed something…

…Tiny, white specks coming out it the sky and falling to the ground, covering the earth in a soft, white blanket. He had heard Mechanic talk about snow before, but he’s never seen it for himself, and this wasn’t an opportunity he was about to miss despite it being so late.

He got out of bed and put on his gibus, carefully opening the door to his room as quietly as he could. Carefully, he grabbed onto the railing as he wheeled down the ramp of the stairs, and after a bit, he found himself at the workshop’s front door.

He looked around to make sure nobody was watching before opening it up, his bright blue eyes glowing as he felt the snowflakes fall out of the sky and onto his hull. It was a nice, tingly sensation, and he felt no need to wear a coat as he was much more resistant to the cold than any warm-blooded animal could ever hope to be.

He wheeled forward, hearing the crunch of the snow beneath his wheel. He knelt down and leaned forward to get a better look at the powdery substance, putting his hands together and scooping up a hand full of the stuff before watching it fall between his fingers. Otto was absolutely mesmerized.

He repeated this process again and again, feeling how soft and fluffy the snow was as he played with it. It didn’t melt in his hands like it would a human, so there was no need for him to worry about running out of it.

Soon, he began to feel tired again, and he laid down on the soft, snow covered ground as he let the snowflakes rain down on him.

[feraltuxedo]

Oh look I made another cover... this one for my first and quite possibly only attempt at kid fic:

Fledging by FeralTuxedo M, 53381 words. Summary: Cool Dad was at the school gate again. Clambering out of his ridiculous sports car like a great big spider, all black denim and designer sunglasses. What a prat. He made his way towards the entrance, followed by his equally lanky son. All the mums' eyes were on him. Which was fine. At least they weren't staring at Aziraphale for a change. Cool Dad high-fived his son goodbye, because of course he did, then sauntered back to his car. Making it look so bloody easy. Aziraphale Fell is much too young to be looking after eleven-year old Pepper. He barely has his life together as it is, with his minimum-wage job and a half-baked dream of trading rare books for a living. And as if adopting a recently bereaved pre-teen isn’t enough, there are some rather more adult problems to navigate: playground politics, the shadows of his own childhood, and the growing question of how Crowley, the only other dad at the school gate, feels about him.

Excerpt below.

Aziraphale reached the street corner and looked up to cross. A sleek black two-seater stopped right in front of him. The window wound down, revealing a pair of sunglasses.

‘Hiya. Want a lift anywhere?’

Cool Dad pointed at the empty passenger seat.

‘Um,’ Aziraphale said.

Fantastic. Very articulate. Cool Dad leaned across the gear stick and pushed the passenger door open, making the decision for him. Automatically, Aziraphale got in the car. He regretted it almost immediately. Sitting this close to him, he noticed just how attractive the man was. Sharp cheekbones, long nose, wavy hair the colour of rust. Hot Dad as well as Cool Dad.

‘So?’ he said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Where d’you need to go?’

Aziraphale tore his gaze away from the man and looked straight ahead onto the road.

‘Oh, yes. Into town, if that’s all right. The Asda car park, if you wouldn’t mind. Thank you so much, I really do appreciate it.’

Before he’d finished talking, the car accelerated. There was the unpleasant swoop of inertia in Aziraphale’s stomach. He dug his fingers into the expensive leather of the seat. The car glid along the road almost noiselessly.

‘You’re new here,’ said Cool Dad, incomprehensibly keen on making small talk. ‘Been seeing you all this week. Not trying to be creepy or anything, but you’re the only other bloke at the gate.’

‘Yes, I did notice that. You, me, and a hundred mums. Pepper’s new at the school. She’s in Year 7.’

Cool Dad whistled.

‘Your daughter’s the notorious Pepper Fell?’

‘Actually, she’s not my— wait, why notorious?’

He took a hand off the steering wheel to scratch his neck. His nails left faint red streaks along his jawline. Aziraphale forced his eyes back on the road. They had nearly reached the centre now.

‘Er, I probably shouldn’t tell on her if she’s not talked to you about it, but… yeah. You probably want to know what she’s been up to. It’s actually hilarious.’

The fact that five days into her new school career she was already known as the ‘notorious Pepper Fell’ was worrying indeed. For heaven’s sake. He was so out of his depth.

Cool Dad glanced sideways at him. ‘You free at all this morning? You look like you could do with a strong coffee and I’ve got the morning off, so...’

With compliments to my under-eye circles, thought Aziraphale. The to-do list was burning a hole in his pocket. Taking the day off had cost him already. He needed to get everything done today or he’d have to take another holiday next week, and Gabriel would hate that. He looked at Cool Dad next to him, shaded eyes flitting back and forth between the passenger seat and the road ahead. A small smile played around his lips. A smile or a smirk, hard to tell. And still, he’d been the only person so far this week to show him any kindness. To offer help. A ride and a coffee. And damn, Aziraphale deserved to sit in a café opposite a good-looking man after the week he’d had.

‘Yes,’ he said, stomach swooping again. Probably from the rather abrupt halt at the traffic light. ‘I’m free.’

[rashivermaofficial]

Hot Wheels Hypertruck Color Shifters: The Coolest Racing Action : Rashi Verma : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive

The Hot Wheels Hypertruck Color Shifters edition is the perfect addition to your racing adventures! Unboxing this vibrant vehicle sets the stage for a world of racing fun and entertainment. Witness the magic of color-changing as the Hypertruck reacts to water temperature, adding an element of surprise to every race.

Prepare for epic showdowns and engaging races, where the Hypertruck showcases its prowess on the tracks. The color-changing feature adds excitement and unpredictability, ensuring a captivating racing experience for everyone involved. Whether you're a seasoned Hot Wheels enthusiast or a newcomer to the world of racing, the Hypertruck Color Shifters promises non-stop fun and entertainment for all!

[ammg-old2]

When we talk about the past, we always reveal something about the present. It is hard to imagine a more intriguing or overlooked body of evidence for assessing recent British social history than these Facebook groups: they have given us something like a more chaotic, 21st-century version of Mass Observation. They may not be “representative” in any quantifiable way, but the sample size is vast, and these memes are a canvas for a whole range of contemporary insecurities and collective memories. History is written by the winners, but anyone can share a post on Facebook.

Read through the thousands of comments beneath the numerous proper binmen posts and you will find a striking consensus. Back then, in an unspecified period between 1950 and 1980, the binmen were stronger, more hardworking and more polite. Not just that – back then, the binmen were happy. Everyone remembers them the same way: always cheerful, always smiling, frequently whistling. They always had a kind word for you, never complained, and always closed the gate. They took pride in their job, which was hard work, but honest work. These judgments are delivered with absolute certainty. Back then, “They were always a really friendly crowd who you could have a good laugh with,” writes one commenter. “Not like the bin men of today, you are very lucky if they respond to a ‘good morning’.”

The historic shift in bin collection is taken to mark a wider crisis in masculinity. “That is when men were men, not the wimps we have today,” writes one Facebook commenter. “All be off work with PTSD nowadays,” chimes in another. Proper binmen “didn’t care about Health & Safety Shite”, writes another. The plastic wheelie bins we have today – with their emasculating pastels, often colour-coded for recycling, and their humiliating, labour-saving wheels – are just further markers of our moral, social and spiritual decline.

The proper binmen memes are a potent distillation of a sentiment common to contemporary British politics and culture, where politicians have all but given up offering a positive vision of the future, and where the idea of what constitutes progress is bitterly contested. Fond nostalgia for hard times is, of course, not new. In the Monty Python sketch known as the Four Yorkshiremen (classic British comedy), the eponymous characters, clad in bowties and white dinner jackets, reflect on how far they’ve come.

“Who’d a thought 30 years ago we’d all be sittin’ here drinking Chateau de Chassilier wine?”

“Aye. In them days, we’d a’ been glad to have the price of a cup o’ tea.”

“A cup o’ cold tea.”

“Without milk or sugar.

“Or tea!”

“In a filthy, cracked cup.”

“We never used to have a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled-up newspaper.”

As the sketch continues, the men summon up increasingly absurd scenarios to one-up each other: “We used to have to get out of the lake at three o’clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of hot gravel, go to work at t’mill every day for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would beat us around the head and neck with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!”

The overriding sense from hours of scrolling Facebook nostalgia groups is of a generation who didn’t see that sketch entirely as a joke, so much as a broadly accurate account of their own hard-won triumph over adversity. There are plenty of grim references to old-school bin-collection work being “back-breaking”, and some apparently firsthand binman testimonies specifically refer to having “paid for [the job] with bad backs in later life”. Yet there is a powerful anti-health and safety component to all of the Memory Lane UK reminiscing – against coddling, against rules and red tape, against the easy ride of modern youth. “Remember when your mum would let you lick the egg beaters without anyone freaking out about salmonella?” asks one post. “Remember when we used to play in the dirt?” “Who remembers getting beaten with a cane at school?” We had it tough. We kept calm and carried on. We didn’t complain. We muddled through. We made do. We mended. It never did us any harm. It made us who we are.

Binmenism, as this worldview could be called, is distinct from the common type of nostalgia we are all prone to as we get older – that things were “better in my day”. In fact, the memory lane memes and comment threads make clear that in terms of physical comfort, convenience, domestic labour, work, consumer goods and leisure choice, things used to be worse. But that is not the endpoint of the philosophy. If Binmenism had a motto to stitch on to its itchy old Boy Scout uniform, it would be: things were worse, therefore they were better.

And once you see this, you can’t stop seeing it everywhere.

[gud-soup]

Things I believe jjk men unwillingly do that are H O T

➳ Masterlist

Gojo: none. He knows what he’s doing. Mr tease.

He’ll walk on you shirtless just to see you drool over his abs all the time.

Tease his blindfold so that you can finally see the beautiful colour (but won’t)

Ruffles his hair when stressed out

Him in white/black shirts

His sense of humor

His unexpected vast knowledge

Will DEFINITELY start eating ice cream in front of you only when it starts melting so that you can see him licking all over his hands without interrupting the eye contact with you

Purposefully stands in front of you so that you can admire his ass

Nanami: oh boy. He’s such a gentleman, he doesn’t know how sexy he is

Slowly removing his weird glasses, only to reveal that handsome face, ughhh gets you all the time

Driving. That’s it. A hand on the steering wheel, with his veiny arms, the other on your thigh or your hand. Parking. Reverse. A hand behind your seat. You know what I’m talking about

Loosen tie, hair messy, sleeves rolled up to show his forearms

Getting out of the shower not fully dry, wet hair still down and shirtless. You will admire his abs forever

At some point I’m sure you’ve bought some tight shirts just to see his sculpted muscles and big biceps (Chris Evans vibes)

Cooking and housework. This man can and will make it look sexy (especially when he leans over and you get to see his big booty)

Vast knowledge, sexy brain

Geto: I feel like this dude is very good at making it seem like he doesn’t do that on purpose. Definitely less obvious than Gojo, to the point where you really wonder if he’s unwillingly doing it, which would make him look more desirable, as he isn’t trying so hard to make you flustered, cause he’s naturally born to be hot (let’s remember that he got more girls than his bestie).

He will get out of steamy hot showers with his hair down and a towel on his waist, randomly walk on you and innocently smile, telling you something sweet and casually go back to his business as you eye his sexy back.

100% will always tie his hair in front of you, with the elastic band between his teeth, flexing his biceps, while winking at you

Working out shirtless with his messy hair.

Grabbing you by your waist while soflty smiling at you

When he's taking something from the top shelf and his shirt slightly lifts up to reveal his stomach

His philosophical mind and sense of humor

Sukuna: I feel like he would be like Gojo, he knows what he’s doing, and if he wants, he’ll demand it, with his big grin never leaving his face

He’ll probably walk around shirtless ALL. THE. TIME. Just so that you can see his muscles and tattoos.

I feel like he’ll be naked underneath his kimono, so when it will be “casually” loosened, you could probably catch a glimpse of what it might hide 😏

Sitting on the throne. He’s aura as the king of the domain is just big master energy, I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules.

Wraps his hand around your waist

Hand and squeeze on your thigh while smirking

His voice

Toji: big daddy energy, but I somehow see that he doesn’t really care about his someone, so I feel like if you see him hot, it’s just cause he is and he doesn’t seek for attention

Working out, I feel like he would leave a few grunts here and there, that will make you quite flustered, especially when you see him all sweaty

Repairing random things at home

When he casually shows his tongue and grins/smirks (I’m telling you, this dude has a huge tongue technology)

His entire aura is strong, and that definitely is attractive. It’s probably his whole attitude and way of being. I just feel like when he comes back from a mission he’d just take a beer and unwillingly sit in a provocative manner, like leg spread, head laid back as he chugs his bottle.

Choso: he’s a baby 🥺 surely innocent, has no idea of the power he holds

Practicing his cursed technique would be in the top three, while reading the manga, his expressions and physical appearance just hit differently, you can see his full concentration and eyes narrowing (cat eye like), which I think it’s pretty hot

Being supportive and understanding

Being good with pets and kids

Good manners

Stretching out

Being vulnerable without feeling shame

Mahito: NO.

[idy-ll-ique]

A Day Well-Spent

Pairing: Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: It's like... fluff to the extreme

Warnings: mention of guns

Requested: nope

Summary: Y/N has just moved to Brooklyn and doesn't know how things are there. Bucky Barnes runs things around Brooklyn but what happens when they meet? Will she run away or will she still shoot her shot?

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Okay, first of all, THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH. also i think im obsessed with mob fics????? chile anyways so... enjoy!

---

"Ready to go, sweetie?"

"You know it, babe," Y/N grinned at her friend, Clarice. The two, on their way to work, had stopped by a coffee shop for their daily dose of caffeine. As they walked out of the café, Clarice turned to Y/N. "Finish your story! What did Brad say to you after that?!" Clarice reminded her and Y/N giggled.

"Oh, he was just too sweet! But not my type, ya know what I mean? I didn't know how to turn him down," she sighed. "Poor guy. If he had approached me…" Y/N lightly shoved her friend. "I have his number, should I pass it on?" Clarice turned to Y/N, wide eyed. "Darling, you're too good to me," she spoke with a strong Brooklyn accent.

Y/N burst out laughing. She had moved from another part of the country to Brooklyn for education; along with attending college, she was also working as a waitress at a nice little restaurant. That was how she met Clarice, her being another waitress at said restaurant. The two became fast friends.

Clarice was a few years older than Y/N, a single mother with a 4 year old son. Her son was extremely cute. As Y/N continued laughing, she didn't notice how her friend stopped in her tracks. Clarice was busy staring at the huge hunk of a man a few feet ahead of Y/N, standing in the middle of the pavement with his phone held to his ear, his back to them.

Bucky Barnes.

That man was James Buchanan Barnes, the King of Brooklyn. He ran the whole damn city along with his mob; very important and influential. On top of that? He was hot-headed, easily got angry and people knew what happened when he got angry. Except Y/N. Y/N didn't even know who he was.

As Y/N neared Bucky, still laughing for some reason, Clarice thought of calling out to her. And alert him of their presence? No way! "Clarice, you know I love it when you do your acc—" All of a sudden, Y/N collided into a soft wall, spilling her coffee all over it. Opening her eyes, she found out that it was no wall; instead, she had collided straight into a person.

And drenched his back with coffee.

He was wearing what looked like a very expensive suit and Y/N immediately felt guilty. "Oh my goodness, I'm so fucking sorry!" she blurted out as Bucky pulled the phone away from his ear, turning to look at her. His men, who were loitering around, had her surrounded as they pointed their guns at her. But she didn't notice.

She was busy staring at Bucky, her jaw slightly dropped. Hot damn, he is good looking, she thought to herself. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that she snapped out of a daydream. He had a stern expression on his face and she realized she messed up. He's someone important. Then she started apologizing profusely.

Bucky simply stared at her, taking in her features as he gave her a once-over. She's new, he realized, not from Brooklyn. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he chuckled and she immediately shut up, offering him a timid smile. "I really am sorry, I feel like a total ass. That suit looks expensive, sir, is there any way I can help? Maybe pay for dry cleaning?"

"Do you know who I am?" he instead asked and her brows furrowed. "Oh Lord, am I supposed to know?! One mess up after another…" she grumbled and Bucky couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry. My name is Bucky Barnes, you may call me Bucky." At this point, even his men were surprised, lowering their guns.

Clarice was still standing there and one of the men caught her eye. He nodded his head towards Y/N and Clarice gave him an unsure smile. He sauntered over to her. "She's with you?" he asked and Clarice groaned, dropping her head. "She's new to Brooklyn, and has no idea who he is. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience."

The man smiled at her. "No worries, looks like the boss isn't gonna hurt her. I'm Sam, by the way." Clarice gave him a shy smile. Sam was also very good-looking. "I'm Clarice, nice to meet you." Better to remain on the good side of the mob. Back to Y/N and Bucky… "Bucky, that's a good name. Short for anything?"

He ran a hand through his hair, grinning. It had been years, years since someone outside of the mob had spoken to him so freely and without fear. It felt nice and refreshing, even more so because Y/N was super gorgeous. "James Buchanan Barnes." Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "Named after a president, huh?"

"You making fun of my name now, doll?" he smirked slyly. "Oh no no, I wouldn't dare," she flirted easily, "My name is Y/N. I still feel bad about ruining your suit, you won't even take the money…" Bucky waved her off. "First, Y/N is a wonderful name. Second, you don't need to worry your pretty head over me, this suit can easily be replaced."

"Then how about this? A coffee. My treat. It'll make me feel better," she insisted. Bucky raised a quick brow, thinking that he would be the one to ask her out but oh well, this works too. "Let's call it a date, shall we?" he purred, taking a step closer to her. She didn't back off. "If you'd like," she grinned up at him.

He couldn't help but grin back. "Excellent. Then how about you put your number in my phone and I pick you up next Sunday at 7 pm?" He thrust his phone into her hand and Y/N swore she heard someone gasping in the background. Bucky Barnes was a very private person but here he was now; handing his phone to a stranger.

She quickly put her number in his phone and handed it back, smiling. "I'll await your call." He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I have to go now, so I'll see you later. Say hello to your friend from my side. Sam! Stop flirting, man, we gotta go!" Y/N looked over her shoulder to see his friend flirting with Clarice.

She laughed and turned back to Bucky, who was already looking at her with a goofy grin on his face. "I'll see you next Sunday, Mr Barnes. Again, sorry for the suit!" He waved his arm in dismissal and got into the car, throwing her one last blowing kiss before zooming off. Y/N walked back to Clarice, who was staring at her, jaw dropped.

"I know the hell you didn't just do that."

"Did I do something wrong?" Y/N frowned. Then, all of a sudden, a wide grin bloomed on Clarice's face. "Do you even know who you're going to go on a date with next Sunday?!" Y/N blinked. "Is he someone important?" Clarice made a sound of indignation. "Important? Bitch, he's the Kingpin! The King of Brooklyn! A mob boss!"

Y/N's eyes went wide. "No way," she scoffed. "Yes way! Ask anyone! He runs things around here, babe. It was fun to see him all soft, though, he's kinda hot-headed and hard to impress. Even women stay away from him. And now you two are going on a date?! If this relationship does not end in a marriage I'm suing."

Y/N flushed slightly and punched Clarice on the shoulder. "Clair, we haven't even gone on one date." Clarice shrugged. "A girl can dream. Oh, your children will be the most beautiful! Did you see his right hand man, though?! Mamma mia! Said his name was Sam Wilson, I got his number!" The two reached their workplace.

Inside Bucky's car, he was still smiling, lost in thoughts. "So, that chick, huh," Sam spoke devilishly from the driver's seat. Bucky looked at him. "That's no way to talk about the future Mrs Barnes," he admonished and Sam chortled. "Dude, you haven't been on even one date! Slow down, chicks don't like dudes who plan out a marriage on the first date."

"But I know I'm right, so why shouldn't I plan?" Bucky shrugged. He was more than confident that Y/N was going to become his in the future. The way she looked at him, spoke to him, flirted with him… it was enough for him to become smitten with her at the first glance. "What about you and her friend, huh?"

It was Sam's turn to become flustered. "Clarice Light. Has a 4-year old son, Aaron." Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "A mother. Well-maintained looks," he commented, laughing when Sam punched him on the shoulder. "Why don't you think about your own chick and leave mine alone?"

---

Y/N frantically smoothed out her dress, checking herself in the mirror. She wore a beautiful, nude coloured bandage dress that reached mid-thigh, along with similar coloured heels. Bucky was coming to pick her up in 5 minutes. Even after finding out who he was she didn't back away, instead finding it empowering that the most important man in Brooklyn wanted to take her out on a date.

All of a sudden the bell rang, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. The first thing she saw upon opening the door was a huge bouquet of red roses right in front of someone's face. He then moved the bouquet to reveal his face and Y/N smiled broadly. "Bucky!" He grinned back at her. "Hi, doll! Here, an extraordinary bouquet for an equally extraordinary woman."

"You're too flattering. These roses smell amazing, thank you so much." She took the bouquet from his hands and kept it away, stepping out of the house. Bucky offered her his hand and she took it, allowing him to lead her out of the building and towards an audacious, ridiculously expensive looking car.

"Everything about you is lavish, huh?" she teased as he ushered her into the passenger seat, sitting next to her. "Bad to have a taste for the finer things in life?" he teased right back, placing his hand on her thigh as the other gripped the steering wheel. "No, I mean, you are the Kingpin. I should expect luxury."

He glanced at her to see her grinning at him. "You found out?" She nodded. "Yup, Clarice told me as soon as you left. I don't mind though, I'm just wondering… why me?" He laughed. "Why you? Sweetheart, you are the first person aside from Sam who has talked to me so freely since… since I was 18. And you're gorgeous. So why not?"

"Again, with the flattery…"

"Just stating facts, my dear."

"Also, my friend has a crush on Sam, so do tell him to ask her out." Bucky laughed harder. It had been years since he'd enjoyed himself so much. "Really? He has a crush on her too! I guess I'll tell him tomorrow." Y/N looked out of the window. "Where are we going?" Bucky gently squeezed her thigh. It was clear he wasn't taking her to a café, like originally planned.

"A picnic in the park." Y/N's eyes lit up. "I love picnics!" she squealed. "Then I guess I made a good choice," Bucky chortled along. The two soon reached the park and Bucky got out of the car first, holding the door open for Y/N to step out. "A gentleman," she noted, making him grin. He then took out the picnic basket from the backseat.

Y/N laid out the classic pink and white checkered blanket that he had brought along, taking off her heels before sitting down. "Ugh, I'd have worn pants if I knew I was going to be sitting on the ground," she groaned as she somehow sat down, adjusting her dress.

"You look gorgeous in that dress though," Bucky commented, "But you don't need to worry about public indecency because it's just you and me in the park." Y/N blinked at him as he sat down, opening the basket and taking out food. "Just us? You booked the whole park?" Bucky smirked at her. "It's easy when you run things around here."

Y/N fondly shook her head. "So much effort." He winked at her. "All for you, doll, all for you." The two maintained a chat as they ate. "So, you're new here. Why did you move to Brooklyn?" Bucky asked her. "Education. I go to [Name] college, actually, and work part-time as a waitress for some additional income," she hummed. He nodded thoughtfully.

"What about you? Is the mob a family business or a start-up?" Bucky smiled at her boldness. "Family business, my dad used to run it before me. I was 16 when I took over." Y/N realized what must've happened and gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry for your loss." Bucky returned the smile. "It's fine, he was no saint."

"No?"

"Yup, hated him actually. Used to be cruel to my mom, to me too… until he got shot. Best day of my life." Y/N gasped quietly. "Bucky! He was your father!" Bucky chuckled mercilessly. "An asshole is what he was. Geez, speaking of, my mom is gonna be so happy."

"What's her name?" Y/N took a bite of her sandwich. "Winifred. She's awesome, raised me and my sister alone, ya know? Dad was always too busy. My mom will like you, I can tell. And so will my sister." Y/N smiled at that. "A sister?" He nodded, excited to talk about his family.

"Rebecca Barnes. She's a few years younger than me, maybe your age. She goes to your college too." Y/N suddenly squealed. "You mean to tell me my best friend from college is your sister? Rebecca Barnes?!" Bucky smiled so wide he thought his cheeks were gonna tear. "You've met her?" Y/N vehemently nodded.

"She's really great, the only person kind enough to introduce herself on the first day I moved in. She was the one who showed me around campus and I found out that she mostly spent time alone because no one wanted to talk to her, her brother being involved with the bad side of law or something. But I didn't care. I still don't. She's awesome, you're awesome."

Bucky felt himself tear up at her words. "Doll, you have no idea how much that means to me." Y/N grinned at him, scooting sideways so she could lay her head on his shoulder. "I'm serious, you know. I can't wait to tell her about this." Bucky laughed in a watery tone, pressing his lips to her temple.

The two quietly ate after that. When the food was over both of them lay down on the blanket, looking up at the starry sky. "It's so beautiful," Y/N whispered, cuddling into Bucky's side as she stared at the gibbous moon. Bucky wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him.

"It's nothing compared to you."

Y/N laughed quietly and looked up, the same time he looked down. They met each other halfway; their lips connecting softly yet eagerly. Lost in the kiss Bucky sat up, pulling Y/N on his lap as they continued making out. Finally, after what felt like hours did they pull away, breathless. They said nothing; Bucky looked at her as if she hung the moon.

Y/N stared at him as if he were the only thing in the world. "So, when will I get a second date?" she broke the silence, leaning down to press her forehead to his. "Oh, doll, you're not getting rid of me any time soon," he shot back, laughing. Y/N giggled along and stood up.

Both of them packed their things and got into the car, Bucky offering to drive her home since it was late. So I guess it had been hours. As Bucky drove, Y/N's phone chimed. He glanced at her when she laughed. "What's so funny?" Y/N wheezed before answering.

"I've got two texts. One from Becca and one from Clarice."

Bucky couldn't stop his chuckle. "What did Becca say?" Y/N read out, "Girl, just heard you're on a date with my bro? And I— I swear if you don't become my sister in law, I'm suing." Laughter filled the car. "She really said that?" Y/N nodded. "Yup! Even Clarice, on the day we met, said the same thing! It's nuts. We just met and they're already planning a wedding."

"Speaking of, what was Clarice's message?"

"Oh nothing, just that she got back home from a date with Sam a few minutes ago."

"What?!"

"What's wrong with that?"

"That asshole had work today!"

"Bucky!"

All in all, it was a day well-spent.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

[beforeiread-studies]

Which Cosmopolitan issue is featured in Legally Blonde?

Click here to read all the posts in the series.

If you have seen Legally Blonde you remember Elle Woods defining Cosmopolitan as:

And she is absolutely right. But what is the issue featured in this iconic scene? Let’s find out.

It was actually surprisingly easy to find out.

Legally Blonde came out in 2001 but according to Wikipedia it was filmed between October and December 2000. A quick stroll through eBay ads for Cosmopolitan issues from 2000 reveals to us that the issue featured in the movie is the American (duh) August 2000, with Laetitia Casta on the cover.

I don’t know if 6/7 headlines are sex or relationships related because that was the norm back then or because this is The Hot Issue! because I’m not a Cosmopolitan historian but from what romcoms and chick flicks have told me about fashion magazines from that era (I know, I’m calling the early 2000s an era, I can’t believe it either) I’d guess it was the norm.

Instead, I can tell you something about Laetitia Casta! She is a French supermodel and actress. I can’t discover why she was on the cover specifically, though. In 2000 she was a Victoria’s Secret Angel and had just become the 2000 Marianne (which is a French modeling thing?) so perhaps it was for that or perhaps more simply because she was relevant to the time period (once again, I’m sorry). If anyone has the issue, please let me know what she talked about in her interview.

.

Going back to Legally Blonde. The movie being set during the school year (if you take the musical as canon that particular scene is set in January or February) of course makes using an August issue an unpardonable mistake (or could mean that Elle is actually giving sloppy seconds to Brooke, your choice) (I can hear my fanfiction wheels whirring).

I do wonder why they used this issue in particular, though. Was it random or deliberate? Did someone from scenography go “we need a Cosmopolitan issue!” in August and then they kept it in a box until they filmed the scene months later? Or did this blue cover with a flash of pink go with their colour scheme? I guess we’ll never know.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Matcha blossom + 80

80 - 'We're already late...do you want to be more late?'

Please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 if you liked this!

--------

It was strange to think that some of the blood in his body didn’t belong to him. 

That was the kind of realisation that would normally have Kaoru’s anxiety itching and his stomach turning, the way thinking back to those first few days in the hospital always did. He couldn’t remember much from that time which he felt was fine to blame on the serious head trauma. It was all a bit of a blur, the last thing he remembered with any kind of certainty was Adam’s face as he’d run at him and the oddly lucid sadness at finding no trace of his old friend within it. 

From then until he’d snuck out to Sia la Luce three days later, things were hard to pin down. 

Which should have been a relief, all things considered. But anxiety was a resourceful little bitch, as Kaoru knew depressingly well, and it could work with very little. What he did remember had been turned against him and replayed viciously whenever his walls slipped. 

Waking with fabric over his mouth and being unable to breathe. The terror of limbs not responding when he told them to move. The only taste in his mouth being thick, hot blood. Making to cry out, for Kojiro, for Carla, for himself to get out of the goddamned way, for anyone, but his jaw staying still and lifeless, the entire lower half of his face frozen. The constant pain at the back of his head, the feeling that he was somehow made of porcelain and the slightest thing would shatter him and reveal the hollowness inside. 

Kaoru remembered enough. 

He felt it creeping up on him now as he stood and looked in his bathroom mirror. He’d avoided his own reflection for a long time, terrified at what he might see in it, even though the rational part of his mind knew the dislocated jaw, the broken nose, the cracked tooth had all been fixed. But some bigger, more frantic part, told him he’d glance up into the mirror and see the blood pouring scarlet from between his teeth all over again. 

Of course he didn’t, though it had taken a slow countdown from Carla to get him to lift his eyes. Kaoru saw himself, a lot more washed out and exhausted than he usually looked unless he was bumping up against a deadline on a commission. Relief washed over him for a moment. Just for a moment.

There’s a bump in your nose. 

The voice had always sounded a little like his mother’s and it brought the same tension in Kaoru’s stomach that hers used to when he was small. It was the voice that always tripped him up, that pointed out the shaky lines in his artwork and bugs in his code and wobbles in his wheels. 

And the worst thing was, the voice was always right. And it was right about his nose. There was a definite bump that wasn’t there before, a sign of where it had broken and been reset. It was only small but now Kaoru had spotted it, it was all he could see. 

The sickness was back. The spots in his vision, the shaking, the hammering heart so strong Koaru thought he’d see it through the fabric of the shirt if he glanced down. But he didn’t glance anywhere, he just fixed on the bump in his reflection’s nose. The sound of a cracking bone in his ears, the ghost of suffocating bandages over his mouth, the taste of blood in the back of his throat. 

“Babe? Are you done in the shower yet, we’re going to be late…”

Kaoru couldn’t hear, let alone reply, anything beyond the memories and the panic may as well not exist. So, after a long moment, the bathroom door opened behind him and the colours around his ashen face shifted. 

“Kaoru? Oh god…”

Kaoru connected the dots, like an algorithm assessing data. Warmth on his hands. Much larger hands, calluses he recognised rubbing against his own. Kojiro. 

“Hey. Babe, it’s okay, you’re just having a panic attack. I’m here for you,” his voice was edged in concern but practised, these words ones he’d learned by heart, “We’re gonna breathe, yeah? In and out, with me.”

He took Kaoru’s hand and placed it on his own chest, the warmth of his skin so different to Kaoru’s clammy panic, even through the shirt he wore. It made it easier to focus, to remind him that Kojiro was actually real and not one of the fears his mind was throwing at him. His boyfriend took a deep breath, letting his broad chest rise and fall so Kaoru could feel it against his palm.

“In and out,” Kojiro continued, “In and out, come on, keep up, Princess.”

He guided Kaoru’s other hand to his chest, where his anxious heart was rattling like a bird trapped in a cage. Whereas Kojiro’s breathing was the tide, steadily rolling in and out, his was a grasping hurricane. But he knew this routine. All he had to do was follow Kojiro. 

The first breath was painful but it made Kojiro smile and nod encouragingly, “That’s it! Good, and again, in and out…”

Slowly, surely, Kaoru pieced his control back together one breath at a time, mastering his own lungs again and blinking the tears from his eyes. The knot in his stomach unwound itself and shame came to flood it instead. 

Especially when Kojiro gave him the softest, saddest gaze and murmured, “What set it off, baby?”

Kaoru swallowed hard, tasting bitterness and the idea of blood, “Nothing. Nothing, I was being foolish…”

“Hey now,” Kojiro’s tone was still gentle but his words firmed, “Quit talking about my man like that. You know that’s not how it works.”

Kaoru closed his eyes, letting his head fall forward until it hit Kojiro’s chest, feeling like he was made of lead. He wished believing his boyfriend wasn’t so hard. 

“I…I noticed my nose is crooked now…” he finally confessed, as much as his cheeks burned. 

“It is,” Kojiro agreed gently, knowing better than to argue, “But it’s not noticeable? I only see it because I spend an embarrassing amount of time looking at your face.”

How on earth the towering oaf got him to smile when ninety nine per cent of him wanted to cry, Kaoru had never understood, but he was grateful for the thin, anaemic twitch of his own lips. 

“I know that. Most of me knows that. But the rest of me sort of…spiralled about it. It made me think of the accident, which I know was ages ago but…”

“Was it?” Kojiro’s eyes crease at the edges, “It was pretty serious, babe, you’re still technically in recovery? Hence why we’re meant to be meeting the kiddos at the gym in half an hour. And, besides, I don’t think there’s a time limit on how long a fucking assault can spin you out.”

Kaoru’s muscles relaxed a little, though he kept his face firmly pressed to Kojiro’s chest, “I suppose.”

“Damn right you do,” Kojiro’s hands were making slow, easy circles on the small of his back, “You can spiral as much as you want and I’ll be there to catch you.”

And the strangest thing was, Kaoru believed him. He’d grown up in a world that constantly lied to him but never once had he doubted Kojiro. And he wasn’t about to start now. 

How could he when some of the blood in his body wasn’t his, it was Kojiro’s?

Kaoru drew back, tilted his chin up those infuriating few inches he needed to catch Kojiro’s lips with his own. They’d kissed so many times, since their very first when they were shy teenagers swearing blind to themselves that they were just practising, and it had become something of a language between them. Kojiro knew that when Kaoru kissed him like this, he was asking for something. 

“Uh…” his burnt red eyes were wide with surprise when he pulled back, “We’re already late…but do you wanna be more late?”

“I do,” Kaoru breathed, voice soft and vulnerable, “Please, Kojiro?”

The tall man blinked, looking a little lost for words, “I’d be down. Believe me, I’d be so down but…uh, it would be the first time since your accident, you sure you’re up for it? I’m not looking to snap you in half or anything.”

Kaoru raised an eyebrow, “I dislocated my jaw, cracked my skull and broke my nose. Everything below the neck is fine. And besides, the physiotherapist recommended stretches and short bursts of exercise?”

That made Kojiro snort, “I think she meant a treadmill, not the bedroom…but as long as you promised to give me a shout if something hurts…”

“I will,” Kaoru was already pulling him back through the bathroom door towards the bed, “I’ve missed you…”

“I’ve missed you too,” Kojiro’s voice softened, knocking his boyfriend back into their blankets, as gently as one could do that, “Alright, let’s do it. It’s not like the kids ever show up on time, right?”

Kaoru felt light as air as Kojiro kissed him down into the softness of their bed, hands already wandering, pushing up the hem of the shirt that, really, was his but Kaoru shamelessly stole to sleep in. Already, his body felt more like his own, more like home, as Kojiro’s pressed against it, as his hands followed the curve of his hips. 

“Princess…” he purred softly, reaching up to free Kaoru’s hair from its tie so he could stroke his fingers through it once he’d shed his gym clothes.

The term of endearment spread the warmth right down to his toes, melting him back into Kojiro’s strong hands, “I’m all yours.”

Despite Kaoru’s promises, Kojiro was still gentler than usual. He didn’t press his boyfriend’s knees all the way back to his ears, letting them settle around his hips instead. He didn’t tease, he didn’t send their headboard slamming into the back wall, he didn’t yank on Kaoru’s hair. He kissed him sweetly, softly, rolling his hips against him until the smaller man was trembling and gasping. 

Maybe Kaoru wasn’t the only one who remembered those days after the accident. 

But when he finally did press into the tight heat of him, it was everything Kaoru had been missing. He gave a soft wavering cry as Kojiro breached him, that movement that wasn’t a breaking, wasn’t an invasion, but a joining. Kojiro held still, giving him a moment to get his breath, before he moved, hips rolling steadily, slightly deeper with each motion until they were as close as two people could possibly be. 

Kaoru clung to him, hands clawing at his back, fingernails surely scratching enough to hurt but Kojiro only sighed, “Fuck, that’s it princess. With me…”

And then all he had to do was follow him. 

They moved together, bedsprings protesting in time with Kaoru’s gasps of delight. He pressed his heels into the small of Kojiro’s back, urging him on with everything he had. 

“Yes…oh god, yes, Koji…that’s it, right there,” his voice cracked, dissolving into shameless pleading, though he knew his boyfriend would give him everything he needed, “Right there, oh…”

Kojiro caught his mouth in a kiss, tongue sliding past his lips like he couldn’t bear to leave an inch of Kaoru unexplored, like he was memorising everything he’d missed over the last two months. 

“Koji,” he whimpered, as Kojiro licked up his jaw, “I can’t…can’t, I’m gonna…”

His green haired lover, his best friend, his rival, the biggest pain in his ass, nipped at his ear and murmured, “It’s all yours, princess. I’ve got you.”

And Kaoru knew promises from Kojiro meant something. So he let himself fall.

His orgasm hit him hard, every muscle snapping taut, finishing Kojiro in the same moment. For one long, perfect instant, the only sound in the world was their heartbeats, so in time that they were just one sound. Then the waters closed over his head and Kaoru was flooded with the pure, uncomplicated pleasure of it all. 

When the world came back into focus, Kojiro was collapsed on top of him, green and pink hair alike was tickling his nose.

“Still with me?” his boyfriend mumbled against his shoulder, voice ragged and breathless. 

Kaoru smiled weakly, “Jaw still in place. Nose still straight. Skull intact. A successful fuck, all things considered.”

“Great,” Kojiro chuckled, rising up enough to press a kiss to said nose, shifting so Kaoru could curl more comfortably in his arms, “Y’know, I think the little bump makes you look kind of rugged. Very sexy.”

“Oh?” Kaoru would have blushed if his cheeks weren’t already pink, “Perhaps it’s not so bad then.”

“Hey, if it’s on your face, I’m a fan,” Kojiro hummed, closing his eyes, the chances that they’d actually get up and make it to the gym shrinking by the moment. 

Kaoru knew the anxiety would come back, it always did. But right now, wearing his boyfriend’s clothes, wrapped safe in their bed, the sunlight coming in soft and warm on his face, Kaoru could forget it even existed. And even when it did return, he’d still have Kojiro. 

He pressed his ear to his boyfriend’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, to the rush of blood through his veins. About a pint of that blood now rushed through Kaoru. 

There was one memory from the hospital that he was glad to keep, a rare moment of lucidity. He’d woken up, half blind, in terrible pain, confused and scared. Whether it was the first time or the fifth or the tenth, he couldn’t remember, he just saw the white starch ceiling, the film of blood in front of his eyes and terror. He’d been about to cry out, to fight, to struggle when a gentle hand had come down on his shoulder and steadied him. 

“Easy…we’re just going to breathe, that’s all you have to do, Kaoru. You’re safe…”

He’d followed that voice, the same way he had since they were little. Kojiro was sitting beside him, looking exhausted, dressed for S. Despite the shadows under his eyes, he’d smiled. 

“In and out. Keep up princess.”

So Kaoru had breathed. Kojiro had promised it was all he had to do, so he’d done it, even though he’d understood nothing else. 

Through the haze, he’d seen white gauze wrapped around Kojiro’s arm and felt his skin go cold. 

“You’re hurt…” the words had come out thick and indistinct but Kojiro understood. 

“Oh,” he’d glanced down at the IV in his arm and given a thin smile, “Just a little prick. I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

Not understanding, Kaoru had forced his bleary eyes to focus, following the tube, a shocking red, all the way from Kojiro’s arm to a bag on a hook up ahead, more shocking red. And from there, it ran down into his own arm. 

“Universal donor, remember?” Kojiro had waved his hand, smile softening, “Head injuries bleed a lot and when they said you’d need a transfusion…” 

Kaoru remembered trying to speak, trying to make the words come from a broken jaw, trying to tell Kojiro that he loved him, no matter how much it hurt. But Kojiro had just stroked his shoulder, gently like he was afraid to break him. He remembered tears running down his face, soaking the bandages. Kaoru had been unable to say it but Kojiro had known and he’d shown him he loved him in return, in so many ways. 

And he’d been doing it ever since. 

Far away from that fear, Kaoru thought about the same blood running through their bodies and said what he hadn’t been able to say back in the hospital. 

“I love you, Kojiro.” 

[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

Living with what you’ve done

Uhhhhh

UHHHHHHH WHAT

Ok so I started writing the 100 special but then I got to 120!?! Wtf when did this happen?

Though I would like to thank each follower personally I have social anxiety and would rather not randomly message strangers following me. Here is my public thank you!

Idk what I did while writing this but it seems I managed to copy-paste the beginning four seperate times. This brought the word count up to 5.9k but it is now edited and brought down to 2.3k

Inspired by my friend @deltaxxk who loves angst and told me I have to write a follower special

Other prompts used: One, Two

Also! There are movie references within this fic, if you get them all you get a virtual lollipop 🍭

Ao3

Disclaimer: THIS FIC IS MAJORLY ANGSTY PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF ANY OF THE WARNINGS WILL TRIGGER YOU

Warings: blood, fire, death (+graphic descriptions of dying), injuries, grief, human trafficking and mentions of psychopathy

———————

“Robin we’re out of time! We must leave, we’re out of time!” Her yo-yo strained with tension as she swung into a goon, sending their body flying away from her team.

They had gotten a lead on a meta trafficking ring that involved some of the Gotham elite’s children disappearing. The lead brought them to the dock, GothDrill’s warehouse sat just off to the right. Its fluorescent lights signifying signs of life, Marinette knew most weren’t there willingly.

“Make more time!” He snapped back. Ladybug fumble slightly before regaining her footing, she wasn’t expecting the coldness in his tone.

She jumped back into the fray and watched from the corner of her eye Damian take on four goons by himself. She stifled a sigh before punching the man in front of her square on his jaw, ‘must he always prove himself when he has already?’ Damian edged himself closer to the garage doorway of the shed before disappearing into the building.

Focus her attention back on the battle around her, she saw Red Hood downed under a steel beam. She rushed over, and with her enhanced miraculous strength to lift the offending metal. He groaned with pain, the beam had pinned his legs, forcing him to lay stomach down. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, supporting the majority of his weight to get him to his feet. Pain throbbed in his left leg and they stumbled onto the dock to hide behind down GothDrill crates.

Ripping the seams of his pant leg, she revealed a dark purple bruise that was rapidly spreading. She also discovered the beam had broken his femur and shattered his kneecap, how he wasn’t screaming in pain was beyond her. Pink light danced between her fingers before drifting down to his wound. Jason bit his hand to prevent any cries from leaving his mouth. He didn’t want another confrontation in his state.

The sound reached her before the light did. Jason panted as he looked up to see what distracted her from his healing. Reflections of orange and yellows dancing across her cerulean eyes. “Damian.” She whispered frozen stock still.

Something within her very core snapped and cardinal urges overtook her common sense. Shooting up like a bullet she sprinted towards the blazing inferno, her ears numb to the world around her.

Inside was worse than the burning exterior. She could see where the explosion originated from, big barrels of flammable chemicals blazed white with heat. The smoke and burning chemical gases penetrated her airways, coughs racked her chest.

She could see flames running up the walls and the lit barrels but the rest was black. The smoke was a blanket of darkness that wrapped around her.

And then she heard it. The screaming.

Multiple voices, so raw with pain, masculine and feminine, old and young. Running towards it she hoped to spot Damian but luck wasn’t on her side. Instead she found the trafficked civilians, their bodies red with burns with their hair and clothes set ablaze.

She ran full speed at the wall nearby, shattering the melted bolts. The fire blazed brighter at the new source of oxygen. She directed the victims out, the dove towards the water. The goons had fled during the initial explosion leaving the Batfam free to help.

She looked down at the bodies of those who didn’t survive. Some were burned beyond recognition, she kept looking, scouring for Damian.

She heard Red Robin calling her name, she looked up to see the scaffolding holding the roof breaking apart and falling to where she stood. She felt her body tackled out of the way and another thunderous crash hit the floor.

She was dragged outside and placed into the care of a newly arrived ambulance. Her eyes, red from the smoke and ash, looked out the back door of the vehicle. Firefighters and police had arrived on scene along with news reporters and the public. Families of the trafficked were reunited with their lost love ones and others mourned their deceased. Red Robin stood there, watching her.

“You can’t just follow me into fire.” She croaked to him, her oxygen mask muffling her.

The whites of his black cowl narrowed and his fists clenched. “Then don't run into fire,” he growled at her before walking off.

Her body moved without thinking, removing her oxygen mask against the protests of the paramedics. Ladybug reassured them she’ll be alright and that they should help the others who were more injured than she. She walked back towards the building but the black-clad figure of Batman stopped her stride.

“You’re not using your cure.” He stated. Her eyes widened, the cure could save his missing son, save the trafficked from their injuries and deaths. Who was he to deny the will of a god’s favoured?

Using the cure in Gotham was always straining and the Batfam knew that. On multiple smaller occasions, she was prevented from using it due to the amount of damage and crime being reverse causing serious health concerns they observed in Marinette. But she never thought it would also be denied on an occasion like this.

“I have to! Robin cou—“

“No, you could die.” He cut her off, her foggy mind becoming more enraged.

“And he could live!”

Without a reply he injected her neck with a sedative, her body collapsed from the drugs and exhaustion. The world going dark around her.

+++++++++++++

Three days after

Her blaring phone distracted her from her dissociative state. She was staring lifelessly at her TV, she could say what happened in the show even if her life depended on it. She scrambled to her phone, Dick’s name lit up the screen.

She accepted the call, answer with a hoarse “hello?”

“Marinette? Are you able to make it over we have some things to tell you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Pressing her phone to her ear with her shoulder she ran around her apartment, grabbing her keys, shoes and jacket. Rushing out the door she rapidly fired questions at him, “What is it? Did you find him? Is he there?” All of which were answered with silence.

“It’s best that we discuss this when you get to the manor.” And with that, he hung up. The click seemed to echo in her car, even though she knew it didn’t. Driving towards the outskirts of Gotham where Wayne manor resided, she felt a spark of hope rekindle in her chest. Although Dick didn’t give her much to go on she still hoped they found him and everything could go back to how it was.

Fate wasn’t merciful to the naive it seems.

Her world shattered around her as she saw the crisped cape on the table. The smell of burnt blood permeated the room. Her eyes stayed locked onto the cloth as she spoke, “But this is only his cape, not his body. He still could be alive somewhere! He is injured and hurt and we have to find him!”

No one spoke. Their eyes flicked to one another.

Jason limped in her direction, his crutch clicking against the stone flooring. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, his eyes brimming with unshed emotions. “The cape was found with the body, everything else was unsalvageable except the cape.”

A silent “we’ve found him, just not how we wanted,” resounded throughout her being.

She glared at Bruce, “He could be alive if you didn’t stop me! I could have saved him!” She lashed out, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“And we would have been having this exact conversation with Damian about why we didn’t stop you. The best outcome for this situation was you living.”

“No the best outcome was both of us being given a chance at survival” Marinette screamed at him, his face was emotionless. How could he be so uncaring to the fact of his youngest son dying?

Running out of the Batcave and manor she gasped at the cold night air. A sob escaped her mouth. Her head banged against her steering wheel, tears dripping onto her pyjama pants. There was no way she’d be able to sleep tonight.

++++++++++++

Twelve days after

Fire danced in her peripheral. A medley of bright oranges and golden yellows. She remembered the times when the two of them would watch the sunset in silence, sipping on hot chocolate and green tea. This blazing inferno was different. Its colours more violent and foreboding.

The screams. They were different from the ones she heard that night. They were his screams.

She saw her body encased within his burnt arms. Damian was little more than a burnt corpse, his eyes blazed green and his bone was replaced with metal pipes. The cure resurrected him but he was not wholly there anymore.

She awoke screaming. Not in control enough to remember she had neighbours; mentally pleading that they’d understand. They knew of his disappearance but not of his death. She was still heavily in denial.

She isolated herself away from everyone, afraid she would hurt anyone else that got close. She couldn’t stop wanting to hurt Bruce for making her unable to use her cure or the goons for setting the place alight and killing her fiancé. She wanted to go scorched earth.

She snuggled into his pillowcase, his faint scent of honey was still present. She willed herself to fall back asleep, his scent surrounding her. His pillow, his shirt, his ring; but she was missing him.

++++++++

Two hundred and eighty-seven days after

Red trickled down her finger. It took her a moment to move the fabric away from the dripping blood source but managed to before it stained. It had been years since she had pricked her finger with a needle, but her subconscious must have needed to feel something; even if it was pain.

She looked around at her juvenile pink room. She had moved back into her parents six months after Damian’s death. Three months into her stay and she still had most of her belongings in boxes. The only decorations in the room were scattered commissions and a wooden blanket.

Looking down at the puddle of blood that was growing on her white desk she wonders if Damian bled before the fire cauterised his wounds. She had researched that burning to death was one of the most painful ways to die, it takes hours, each nerve ending burning. The burn victim usually passes out after a few minutes but she could imagine Damian desperately trying to put himself out, only to find more fire encompassing him.

His cape was bloody so she hopes he bled rather than burned. Or maybe he was crushed by the falling roof and killed instantly. She hoped he didn’t suffer for long.

Similar intrusive thoughts plagued her mind constantly but she kept her focus on her art to push through the days. Gazing down at the wound she found Tikki had held her and Wayzz had wiped the puddle with tissues.

Today she’ll live for them. Tomorrow she might live to try her father’s new recipe of cinnamon macarons. Last Tuesday she lived to hear Luka’s new song. Next month she might live just to pat the stray kitten that lives in the alley behind the Chinese restaurant two streets over.

++++++++++

Five hundred and twenty days after

She froze at the sight before her. Thinking it was another hallucination or she was having another nightmare. “You thought,” The glass in her hand cracked under her grip. Her brain couldn’t process what was happening. She hasn’t disassociated this much since the day he ‘died’.” That by faking your death, you could find out who you could rely on?”

“TT, yes. Now that I know everything can go back to the way it was.” She swigged her glass again, wishing it were whiskey instead of water. When they had met, Jon and his family had warned her that he was severely emotional constipated from his upbringing but this was in the psychopathic area of emotionless.

“No.”

“What?” His shock almost seems real. His eyes had widened and his body language was unsteady.

“No, we aren’t done talking about this! How ignorant do you have to be to think this won’t affect our relationship? Won’t affect me?”

“It wasn’t real. I’m here.” He stepped forward, arms rising to hug her. He never was one for physical contact. She pulled back, grabbing a steak knife and placing it between them. He told her he had set the place aflame. He found the lead for the trafficking ring. He planned it all. And now he was back, almost a year and a half later.

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt! I’m going to have nightmares for the rest of my life! How selfish, how, how stupid do you have to be to not consider what it does to someone who cared about you?!”

“Cared?”

“Do I need to spell it out? We’re done. I don’t want to see you ever again,” She seethed. “You think everything can go back to how it was before? Well, it can’t. I spent months of my life mourning over a guy who wasn’t even dead. Who didn’t even care about me enough not to toy with my emotions. My life isn’t a game Damian!”

“I only did this because I thought—”

“I don’t care. Get out. Out of my house. Out of my life. Just get out.”

“I didn’t intend to hurt you, I just wanted to know.” Hot, rage-filled tears ran down her cheeks. She jabbed the knife at him, stopping inches before his chest. She had backed him down the stair and to the front door. Neither of her parents were home and he was more unpredictable than ever.

“I hope you can live with what you’ve done, le miel”