#trying to draw neon green blush is new

[moonlit-lian]

I wanted to make his outfit kinda fun and easier to draw! My star loving neon green lad.. 💚✨

Also uuuhhh have this little guy! I drew him as that uh, that cute meme!

GWOING GWHOST! :3 💚

[achillieus]

we’re fools. (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, angst, too much tension, bucky and reader are stupid and in  denial, sexual tension all around the place

tagging: @tonystankschild​

(other parts)  (masterlist)

part 2/3:

And then it’s the last week of February and you have an assignment together, you and Bucky, the boy with black hair and a mind that you’re certain is not as clever as he insists it is. You know this cannot possibly end well. You feel it when he sits beside you and his knee brushes past your leg. You feel it when you take a breath and smell his aftershave. Sandalwood and vanilla. It makes you want to lick your lips. Please, get a grip. You try to get away, even propose to write the whole thing alone so you wouldn’t have to spend any time around him. In your mind, you call it self defense. But Bucky’s boastful and you can see him pumping the muscles in his neck, trying to intimidate you.

“My dorm, tomorrow at 7,” he says “Don’t be late.”

-

(your late night instagram search history)

(00:38 AM) #literaturememes

(01:15 AM) @buckybrns

(01:30 AM) #newgirl

(01:50 AM) @buckybrns

(02:10 AM) @buckybrns

You find it annoying; how he’s present even when he’s not around.

-

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that everyone, boys and girls, adore him alike. He’s charming, he’s crafty, he’s brilliant. He’s everything they want him to be and even more. It nearly condones his megalomania.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s aware he has an audience. Always plans his moves, knows how to play his character perfectly. He wears dark designer jeans and plain Henley shirts, buttons open, fabric tight around his biceps. Sometimes even a black leather jacket and a tag necklace. Girls are intrigued by the bad-boy, straight A student contrast, while the boys are envious enough keep him close and invite him to all of their parties. Bucky gives them whatever they need.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s utterly lonely. He has never said so, but it’s the truest thing about him. He has Sam. But for how long? Bucky’s used to people going away. It has been imprinted on him. His best friend, Steve, left with his girlfriend in an exchange program last month and Natasha, the one girl he ever came close to loving, just started dating Clint Barton. Clint fucking Barton. What a downgrade.

And then there’s you, sitting at the end of his bed, playing with the ring in your finger, reading some neatly written lecture notes. Usually, Bucky would think about 129 cheeky comments he could make to a girl in his room. But not to you. Are you sure, Bucky? He has grown accustomed to disliking you. It’s the one constant he has left and he’s not planning on losing it.

He leans down and takes the place next to you, a bottle of beer dangling loosely in his hand.

He offers and you decline.

“We need to concentrate on the project.”  

“You’re the biggest killjoy.” Bucky says with a hint of a smirk.

“I’m studying, Bucky.” He can see your left hand holding that dark green pen in a tight grip and your eyes trying to focus everywhere but on his face. He can see your hair glistening in the warm afternoon light that comes from his window. He can see the soft red blush on your cheeks and the beauty mark on your neck. What a tricky thing it is to see. And to feel. And to want.

Is that what dislike tastes like, Bucky?

-

He talks a lot, that’s the first thing you notice. He says all sorts of things, most of them having nothing to do with your project. You’re certain it’s because he’s feeling as uncomfortable and agitated as you. But still, it’s annoying as hell.

“Listen,” you say and turn to his side “I’m not going to fail this class just because you have the attention span of a two year old.”

A laugh escapes his lips and you watch, completely in awe, the way little wrinkles form around his eyes and his nose scrunches. Right now, he looks tender and warm. No, he doesn’t.

“I think we’re both pretty smart,” Bucky says nonchalant and wets his lower lip with his tongue, before he adds, “We’ve got this, so relax doll.”

There are rules, things that are solid, de facto.

Example 1: Bucky never praises you. At least not out loud.

Example 1: Not valid anymore.

Example 2: Bucky uses the word “doll” approximately ten times a day. To other girls. The girls he likes. Not to you.

That’s actually wrong, he called you doll the first time you met. That doesn’t count. He didn’t know you then.

Example 2: Not valid anymore.

It feels foreign. Pleasant and beguiling, but foreign.

“You always call girls “doll”. What is this?” You ask and he looks up. “Is it like your thing, your flirt move?”

Bucky meets your gaze, his forehead creased, and holds it for some seconds before he laughs again. Is this amusing him?

“No, I’m serious.” You bite your lip. “You even did it to me when we first met.”

“I did?”

Of course he doesn’t remember, what did you expect?

“Yeah, when you helped me find the admission office.”

“And you remember that, an entire year later?” He raises his eyebrows, looking entertained and partly interested.

Your mind empties and for some time you feel out of place, embarrassed. But you’re quick to recollect yourself. You can’t let him get you.

“It was my first day as a college student, I remember all of it.”

Liar. You don’t even remember who you sat next to.

Bucky smirks a little too long for your liking and then he leans in, his body bending in a way that makes you forget to breath. He’s so close and you only see blue, a rare kind of blue between the depths of the ocean and the brightest shade of the sky at noon. This would be so much easier if he wasn’t that handsome. Handsome and indomitable. What an awful combination.

“Interesting.” He whispers and lies back, touching the wall.

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and clear your throat.

“I should go, it’s obvious we’re not making any progress.” You pick your books and stand up. “Sometimes I wonder how you get all those perfect grades, you clearly-” You merely finish your sentence before he grabs your arm and swiftly, he has you pressed against his wooden bookcase. You don’t have time to blink.

What’s happening? He was sitting down a second ago.

“That day,” he says while his thumb draws circles on your wrist. “You were wearing a denim dress and some Saturn shaped earrings. And you were holding a cherry juice box.”

It’s utterly terrifying how your emotions toss and turn the moment you realize what he’s talking about and the fragile muscles of your heart ache because Bucky cares. Bucky remembers.

“It wasn’t my first day of college, but I remember.”

You want to throw up. Or kiss him. You’re not sure. You know you hate Bucky. Do you? You’ve taught yourself to. And it was never supposed to change. It shouldn’t have to.  

You part your lips to say something, anything, but he shakes his head and steps back.

“You should go.”

And you do. And you’ll never tell him, but you’ll always regret not kissing him then. You’re sure now.

-

your inbox, the next morning

(10:25 AM) from buckybrns@gmail.com

              I’m sending you our assignment. You only need to add a few things and it’s done. If anything else comes up, it’s better we work on our own.

-

For Bucky, it all came crashing down the moment he first saw you. It was all over the moment his eyes met yours. A gourmand perfume lingered in the air around you that day and it stained his pores. And it’s been with him since then. Clinging onto his flesh.

It’s partly obsessive and partly romantic and Bucky tries to keep it locked inside. He thinks he can make it go away easily, the way he flicks a crumb off his expensive cashmere scarf. He thinks if he doesn’t talk about it, it’ll be less true. That’s not how things work, Bucky.

Yeah, he’s starting to notice.

And he’s trying so hard to hate you. The problem is, he doesn’t think he can.

(his late night instagram search history)

(00:45 AM) #tomfordperfumes

(01:30 AM) @y/n

(01:50 AM) #funnycats

(02:15 AM) @y/n

(03:45 AM) @y/n

-

You make it your mission to avoid him and it’s going well until the fifth of March. You spot him at Sam Wilson’s party. You should have known he’d be here, they’re friends. There’s a thick cloud of cigarette smoke all around, but still, you can perfectly see him. He’s standing alone, his skin changing colors under the neon lights, a plastic cup in his hand, eyes crystal blue and swollen and fixated on you.

The room is small and everything feels known but unfamiliar at the same time; the atmosphere, his gaze, the lump on your throat.

They’re suffocating you, the looks you give each other.

-

“Buck, what do you want?” Sam asks, holding both vodka and gin and he observes the way Bucky merely turns his head to look at him.

What do you want Bucky?

Not to play a role anymore. For Steve to be back. Maybe, Natasha. No, he hasn’t thought about her in a month. Perhaps a Pulitzer Prize. Definitely a new pair of sunglasses. But there is one more answer he has behind his teeth.

Y/N, he almost says. Always.

“Vodka.”

-

He leaves before midnight and you can’t remember where the urge came from, yet you’re following him. You know he has noticed. But he just keeps walking until he reaches the door of his dorm and presses his back against it. He sees you and you see him and his eyes cut your heart open.

“Your place is on the other side of the building.”

“I know,” you mumble, “I just never got to say good job on the assignment and I wanted to.” You are unable to meet his eyes. You sound pitiful and you want to hit a wall; with your head.

Why the hell did you follow him here?

Because sometimes you do stupid things.

Bucky mockingly opens his mouth, as if shocked. It almost makes you groan.

“Did Miss high and mighty just comment something nice about me?”

“Why do you have to contradict everything I say?”

He shakes his head and you can feel your heart beat loud and irregular and it’s not because you’re mad. It’s because he’s coming closer, almost chest to chest now. And it’s because you can swear, he just glanced at your lips.

“Someone has to, you can’t act like you know everything all the time.”  

“I don’t do that, you don’t know a thing about me Bucky.”

“Oh, but I do. You’re Y/N, you like plaid skirts and Homer and dark green pens. You expect everyone to be perfect. You expect yourself to be perfect. And you always want to do the right thing.”

His pupils are dilated. Yours must be too. Bucky Barnes is dangerous and fatal. He makes your blood coil and your mouth dry. And there’s a tension, almost pain, almost agony, deep in your lungs and it burns. And you don’t know who leaned in first, probably you because Bucky isn’t that brave yet, but suddenly your hands are everywhere. Your fingers blending in his hair, his digging in the skin on the back of your neck. He’s bringing you closer and it’s a mess and all you can hear is the beating of your heart; a rapid vibration between your ears. It’s pure and raw and it doesn’t hurt anymore.

He tastes like ambrosia and a year-old despair and you think you can go on forever. You eventually break apart because you both need to breath and for a second you worry because he looks like he’s ready to cry, but instead he smiles, softly touching your cheek.

“Did I do the right thing?” You whisper.

...

feedback is so appreciated and motivates me tons, thank you :)

[laequiem]

Party for One

Party for One by Laequiem // @jurdannetrevels

Side B of Dedicated, a @jurdannet collab fic with @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @lizziebxnnet @figonas @hazelsheartsworn

Dedicated Masterlist • My Masterlist

‡ SIDE A: track 1 - track 2 - track 3 - track 4 - track 5

‡ SIDE B: ao3

Fandom: The Folk of The Air

Pairing: Jude Duarte x Cardan Greenbriar

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 1,734

Nothing brings back the urge to taunt and tease quite like seeing Jude flustered. She is far from innocent, of course, but she loses her usual bravado whenever we enter a sex shop. A blush taints her cheeks for the entirety of our visit, perhaps as she remembers the things we have done in this very store. She nods curtly when the cashier welcomes us, then starts slowly walking between the aisles, inspecting every item as if they were weapons of war.

Nothing brings back the urge to taunt and tease quite like seeing Jude flustered. She is far from innocent, of course, but she loses her usual bravado whenever we enter a sex shop. A blush taints her cheeks for the entirety of our visit, perhaps as she remembers the things we have done in this very store. She nods curtly when the cashier welcomes us, then starts slowly walking between the aisles, inspecting every item as if they were weapons of war.

The temptation to tease her is so strong. When she stops in front of a glass case displaying monstrous phallic-shaped specimens, I lose my resolve.

I sneak up to her and put my hands on her waist, leaning in close.

“My wicked Queen, am I not enough for you?” I drawl in her ear.

Jude tenses, but I can almost hear the gears turning in her head. My cunning wife never lets me have the last word.

She goes back to an aisle she has visited already and hands me a cylindrical box.

“We could do this,” she says, fluttering her lashes at me, “then I won’t need you anymore.”

She hands me the box. It has a giant neon-green penis drawn on it, and the words ‘CLONE-A-WILLY’. From the drawing, I suppose willy means…

“I would think I bring more to this relationship than just my manhood,” I reply, my voice dripping with fake offense.

Jude winks at me then, then pulls me down for a quick kiss.

I wish it had lasted longer.

I follow her through the aisles, helping her carry boxes upon boxes of toys and wearables. When we pay, the cashier looks at us with open amusement, grinning as she drops our items in opaque, unlabeled bags.

With one last wiggle of her thinly plucked brows and an insinuating “Have fun, youngsters!”, we are out of the store and on our way back to Elfhame.

——

I stand with my back to the wall, pinned there by a very eager Jude. I devour her throat, my hands sliding under the straps holding up her thigh-high stockings. Her hands roam my back under my shirt, until one of them reaches my tail. She closes her fist around it and I jerk, my head almost hitting the wall behind me. Her grip tightens, and she runs her fist up the length of it, all the way to the furred tip. Sparks travel back down it, straight to my throbbing cock. I look at her, wide-eyed and panting, and she claims my mouth in a quick, passionate kiss. She bites my bottom lip as she pulls away and I chase after her, but she keeps her distance. Her grin spells trouble.

Jude palms my cock through my pants and my eyes flutter. I reach around to grab her ass, but she dodges away smoothly. Her stare sends me back to a time when I was her pawn, a decorative king for her to rule through.

“Jude?” I ask, my voice small and unsure.

Her smile widens as she slowly undoes the laces of my breeches, and then… she turns her back to me. My apprehension of what is to come prevents me from appreciating the view.

I stand there, dumbfounded, as she walks to the desk and reaches inside a shopping bag—from Dedication, I realize with both arousal and dread. I know what she will pull out before I see it. She had planned this from the beginning. The scheming trickster has a steaming mug of water next to the bag, already heated up and ready for mixing. My Jude is as conniving as the fae, no wonder I could never convince myself to hate her.

“My cunning devil,” I sigh.

My wife’s smile turns innocent, perhaps one of her biggest lies.

“I will start mixing the powder, make sure you’re ready.”

I push my breeches down and step out of them. My hand goes to my cock, dragging over it idly as I watch her take out the baggy of powder. She tears open the bag, then turns to give me a once-over. One of her brows lifts as her eyes land on my dick. I feel the weight of her judgement and I tighten my grip.

“It’s harder than it seems,” I grumble, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Is it?” She bites her lips, trying to stop herself from laughing. “It does not look very hard to me.”

I have known for a while how depraved I am. For years, I have pleasured myself to wild fantasies of her. Initially, I had convinced myself I wanted her capitulation, her pleas and tears. After she crowned me, however, I would stroke myself to fantasies of my own submission. Still, getting harder from being laughed at is a new low.

Jude pours the powder in the steaming cup of water and I join her next to the desk.

“Ready?” she asks, grabbing the plastic tube.

“As much as I can be,” I reply.

She pours the mixture in the tube, and in I go. The mixture sets quicker than I expected, and I slide out before I even soften.

“Perfect!” Jude exclaims, her smile bright enough to rival the sun.

She mixes the silicone and pours it in the mold before placing everything on the desk.

“Now, it’s time for your reward,” she purrs.

My toes curl with anticipation, but I know better than to think she will let me defile her for teasing me so. No—when she has that glint in her eyes, she is in charge. If anybody gets pinned to the bed and fucked with reckless abandon, it’s me.

I come up behind her and set my hands on her hips. My cock rubs delightfully against the lace fabric covering her ass as I bend forward to run my nose against her neck. She turns back to me and, like one of my earlier fantasies come to life, drops to her knees.

“Hands behind your back, Your Highness,” Jude commands.

Of course, I obey.

I watch as she grabs the bag and puts it next to her on the floor. She reaches in and pulls out a toy, a sleek U-shaped thing. With one press of her thumb, it starts buzzing. The first touch of it to my glans has me throwing my head back. Jude holds it steady, while her other hand grips the base of my cock. She expertly strokes me, twisting her wrist as she moves up and down. The vibrations combined with her touch have my knees buckling. I grasp the desk behind me to stabilize myself.

I look at her again, kneeling in front of me, her eyes glimmering with amusement. Her hair is down, falling beautifully over her back, and I tighten my grasp on the desk. I want to touch her, pull her hair away from her face, maybe even pull it. Jude also tightens her grip on me, quickening her movements until—

“Jude, I’m—”

In one swift move, she removes both her hand and the toy from me. The sound I make can only be qualified as a whine. She looks up at me through thick lashes, mischief written across her face.

Not for the first time, nor the last, I wish I had stayed silent.

Jude reaches in the bag again. The first thing she pulls out is familiar to me, a large bottle of lube. The second thing, however, is not something that exists in Elfhame. The thing is cylindrical, the see-through jelly material showing a complex pattern of bumps and ridges inside. It is nowhere near enough to cover my whole cock, but it is open on both ends. My imagination immediately goes wild at the possibilities, this contraption around my cock while her plump lips suck off the tip—my cock throbs, once, and Jude chuckles.

“What has got you so excited?” she teases, her thumb wiping away the drop forming at my tip.

Of course, Jude does not take me in her mouth, the cruel thing. She squeezes the lube bottle, letting the drops fall obscenely in the toy. With a bite of her bottom lip, she slides the toy over me.

It feels nothing like a person, this thing. It is overwhelming, all the nooks and crannies a completely new experience to me. As if that wasn’t enough, Jude powers on the toy from earlier again and puts it to my tip as she glides the sleeve over me.

“Fuck, it’s too much,” I cry out. “Please, Jude—”

“Do you want me to stop?” Jude asks smugly.

She knows me more than anyone else. She knows I cannot lie. She knows, regardless of my complaints, I do not want her to stop.

Even without toys, Jude turns me into a moaning mess. With them, it’s impossible to keep in my groans. I cannot find it in myself to care. I swear and moan as she works me; if the whole palace hears me, so be it.

She alternates her grip on the sleeve every few passes. Sometimes she lets it glide over me with barely any pressure, other times gripping it hard enough for me to feel her hand through it. The vibrator has made my tip so sensitive that tears prick at my eyes.

How I wish I could touch her. My nails dig in the desk as I restrain myself—surely, one of them must be broken by now.

Jude leans forward and plants a kiss to my hip bone, sucking on the skin sharply afterwards, and the dam breaks. I come with her name on my lips and my cock overstimulated by her skilled touch. Ever the torturer, she keeps pumping me with the sleeve, squeezing whine after whine out of me.

“I can’t—Jude!” My legs shake and it’s an effort to keep standing.

Mercifully, she pulls the toy away and, finally, I fall on my knees.

I pull her to me in a breathless kiss, teeth clashing as I feel her smile against my mouth.

Nothing will ever be grand enough to demonstrate my love for her.

Not the night I plan to spend worshiping her until she begs me to stop.

Not the litany of I love yous I bombard her with when I pull away.

My headstrong, ambitious wife. My love. My queen. My Jude.

Tag list

@slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thefolkofthefic @figonas @kingandfireheart @godgavemelou @lizziebxnnet @hazelsheartsworn

[turquoise-skyyyy]

The Solution To Everything(Is Hair Dye)

Note: Human AU! First time posting writing on tumblr lmao, and I wanted to try a bit of a different writing style... so there’s that.

Just a little writing practice paired with Marellinh fluff n kinda angst ig :)

Word count: uhhh i went overboard

Blurb: Linh is lonely, with no one in the world left by her side, hurt, by all that she’s lost, and possibly has an ever-so-slight crush on her elusive blonde neighbor. Marella needs someone to dye her hair within the day, and Linh happens to have exactly what she needs, in more ways than one.

When Linh wakes late in the night, startled from her dozing state on the couch in her dimly lit living room to the sound of persistent knocking, she certainly doesn’t expect to find the blonde neighbor she’s been inconspicuously watching— she’s still trying to convince herself that casually watching the girl enter her house anytime she got the chance wasn’t stalking— for the past three weeks since she moved in next door to be on the other side. And when the panting girl in front of her sucks in a breath, Linh definitely doesn’t expect the words that spill from her lips—

“Can you dye my hair?”

Linh blinks with bewilderment, still trying to process that the girl is here, on her doorstep. Not to mention really, really pretty. Annoyingly so, to the point where Linh’s tired brain has to avert her eyes to focus on forcing her mouth to form words.

“What?”

The girl smiles apologetically, and suddenly Linh’s throat feels dry. The girl’s beauty is much more manageable from a distance, through subtle glances out of the corner of her eye across the hall.

“My roomates— screw them— dared me to dye my hair bright green by tomorrow. I lost a bet.” She looks away. “And you have green hair dye, so...”

Linh stares dumbly, trying to puzzle out how to respond to such a random, odd request. Though she moved into the apartment complex almost a month ago and her maybe sort of possible little crush lives just next door, her mind is still trying to register the fact that they have finally crossed paths. And the girl has come to her, no less.

“How do you know I have hair dye?” The hair dye is something she’s gotten to send to Tam. The silver in his hair is something he kept in long after she cut it off and cut off their parents. He still hangs on, and Linh wants to change that, even if they haven’t spoken in a year. She isn’t going to send it though, she knows. She always chickens out. Her brother’s silence for the past year isn’t easy to face. Still, she buys brightly-colored dyes frequently on the off chance that a lightning strike of confidence will hit her. It hasn’t happened yet, but it’s a comforting routine anyway.

The girl blushes, scratching the back of her neck bashfully and shifting from foot to foot. The movement draws Linh’s eyes to her shoes. They’re ratty sneakers, and upon closer inspection, it looks like there are messy, multi-colored words scribbled all over the sides. The weird shoes match the long, tacky rainbow socks that go up to her knees and the bright, tie-dye, too big sweater draped over her surprisingly small frame, with black leggings to top off the outfit underneath.

“Well, I saw you coming back in from the supermarket yesterday and there was a box of green hair dye poking out of the bags...” she trails off. “Oh my god. I sound like a stalker, don’t I? I swear I’m not.”

Linh can’t help the delirious, sleep-deprived giggle that escapes at the words. It’s ridiculous to her, that the girl she’s been following and observing as subtly as humanly possible because she’s just so pretty and Linh wants to know everything is the one worrying about being a creep.

The girl grins at her laughter, the question still burning in her eyes, which are an even brighter shade of blue than Linh realized up close.

She clicks her phone on, checking the time discreetly. It’s late, nearly midnight. The hair dye takes at least an hour, most likely more, to finish. She has an exam at nine the next day that she still hasn’t studied for and she hasn’t yet messaged Tam for her daily one-sided check-in that he never responds to, or even reads.

She looks back up at the girl with thin braids threaded through thick, golden locks, framing beautiful ice blue eyes set in a still blushing face, waiting for her at her doorstep with an open gaze and just maybe, an open mind.

Her stupid, fluttering heart makes a decision before her rational mind can catch up.

“Come on in.”

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

The girl, who introduces herself as Marella, asks her if she’s always so quiet.

Linh snorts, resisting the urge to point out that Marella is the one invading the house of a relative stranger in the middle of the night. Of course, there’s also the fact that she let her, and that isn’t even considering how flustered the blonde makes her. Especially in such close proximity, where she can smell the faint lavender wafting off her hair. Linh never would have pegged her for a lavender girl.

And when she leans closer to touch up the roots again, she realizes that Marella smells of something spicy. It’s good, comforting, like the home-cooked meals made with love that Linh only ever got to experience in other people’s houses because hers never truly felt like home, or the smell of wood when it was burned in a desperate attempt to keep the warmth in the winter because woolen hats and group hugs were never quite enough to warm everyone’s toes.

Linh has to remind herself to keep working her fingers through the hair.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Linh is thankful when the summer sun finally leaks away and is replaced by autumn wind. There’s something calming about the crisp air blowing through the hair that escapes from tightly-zipped thin hoodies and the leaves bleeding red and gold. She much prefers it to the heat of the summer, or the harshness of winter, the temperatures of which she can never quite escape from completely.

When she pulls open the doors to a nearby cafe and lets the smell of warmth and caffeine wash over her face, and falls into line to order, she isn’t expecting to be behind a girl with a mane of blonde hair that’s streaked through with bright green that hurt the eyes and small braids that sway when she shifts. And Linh’s weeks of watching from a distance pay off— and the hard-to-ignore green certainly helps— because she recognizes the girl immediately.

It’s Marella, sporting the new, significantly greener look that she gained by Linh’s own hands. Linh blushes at the reminder of the night weeks ago. She’s surprised to find that it was the first time she’s seen the girl since their unintentional night together. She’s been so occupied with settling in, getting organized, figuring out independence, and attempting to reach out to her absentee brother, that she hasn’t even noticed the girl’s absence. It seems her creeper skills have gotten rusty, which should make her happy but instead causes the barest amounts of disappointment to creep up. Even from afar, Marella is lively and brightens, or at least eases, the monotonous days that all seem to bleed into each other in one eternal, never-ending passage of pain.

“Hey!” Marella’s voice jolts Linh from her thoughts. “Nice to see you here!”

“H-Hi!” Linh stutters. She thinks the girl’s impossibly blue, intent gaze will always catch her off guard.

Her gaze shifts to the green in Marella’s hair, the harsh coloring softened by the sunlight streaming in through the windows of the cafe and bouncing off the bright strands.

“Your hair looks nice.”

Marella touches a hand to her neon green-streaked look and smirks. “All thanks to you.”

Linh’s cheeks warm at the praise. By the time they reach the orders taken down, Marella has somehow convinced Linh to sit and drink with her. She takes Linh’s wrist lightly and guides her to a table, an action that makes Linh’s face heat again. She looks down at the thin fingers encircling her arm to make sure she isn’t dreaming, and is elated to find that she isn’t.

And sitting in that booth, sipping their warm coffees and exchanging even warmer smiles, Linh’s romantic fantasies from afar suddenly seem a lot closer than she ever thought possible.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Linh isn’t sure exactly how she’s gone from watching her neighbor from a(very far) distance to being dragged into her unfamiliar apartment to be introduced to her roommates, but she can’t say she’s complaining.

As nerve-wracking as it is to be inside Marella’s house, she has to admit that the chance of pace from routine is something she would have been too scared to do herself. Had Marella not knocked on her door and practically shoved her out of her own with an evil grin on her face and into the girl’s shared one just minutes before, she might have stayed holed up in her own apartment forever, seldom leaving and only ever for basic necessities.

Patterns are nice, reliable, and most of all, consistent, something that Linh has never had before, and up until a year ago, had given up on attaining, but there’s something undeniably exciting about throwing caution to the wind and launching herself into a new situation.

However, there is the slight problem of said new situation happening to be making a good impression on her crush’s roommates, who are all staring down at her stoically in a solid line of four with their arms crossed and their gazes narrowed. It reminds Linh of the stereotypical movie tropes in which the overprotective dad interrogates the unnecessarily perfect Mary Sue’s new boyfriend when she brings him home for the first time, and she has to force herself not to laugh in the faces of the people glaring down at her. They’re all at least half a head taller than her, excluding the brunette girl, who has the most terrifying expression of them all on her face.

Three hours later, Linh is laughing tears of joy and drinking hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon with the scary roommates in their warmly lit, cozy living room, who’s first impression couldn’t have been more wrong.

The scary-looking brunette girl isn’t actually one of Marella’s roommates, instead living with the other brunette, her brother, at home with their parents. Her name is Biana, she has an attachment to the color purple that everyone else seems to make fun of her for, and an affinity for randomly throwing out the others’ clothes and replacing them with ones she deems good enough to be seen out with.

Her brother, who’s name is Fitzroy— everyone teases him about this— is better known as Fitz. He is smart, put-together, and as Marella refers to him, their group’s resident “tired dad”. He’s dating Dex, the nerdy but sarcastic actual roommate of Marella.

Then there is Sophie, who was in the kitchen when Linh first came in, and Keefe, the former being Dex’s cousin and Marella’s second roommate who is constantly done with everyone’s shenanigans; Marella claims that Fitz, the actually responsible one, can never be bothered to do anything about their spontaneous endeavors most of the time. The latter, on the other hand, is the most mischievous of the bunch who Linh also knows the least about. His smiles and grins are the most abundant, but also the most weighted. Linh suspects there is a lot more to him than she’ll ever be able to fully grasp.

Linh’s surprised with how well she fits in with these people. They seem so much lighter and freer than her, a girl still tainted and chained down by the past and the experiences that came with it. They welcome her with open arms, and hours later, when dusk falls and it’s time for her to leave, the wrap her up in a hug and make her swear she’ll come back .She sinks into the hug, thinking that after knowing their light, she can’t possibly stay away.

Linh will forever owe all this new warmth in her life to Marella, who is perhaps the warmest of them all.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Fluffy blankets are good. Warm, cozy, comfortable, the kind of little thing in life that makes most people feel fuzzy feelings of nostalgia as they think back to the times they wrapped themselves up in warm blankets on the days they were feeling overwhelmed by the world, when they sat in messily-built blanket forts with their best friends and told scary stories during the devil’s hour with only a flashlight illuminating their evil grins, or the fights with their siblings to get the bigger portion of the blanket when they were forced to share a bed.

Unless that person is Linh, in which case all chances of that were stripped away by a pressured childhood where no room felt safe when her parents were near, friends were disapproved of, and anything that could knock the Song family from the top was discarded before either of the children could protest.

But whether it’s a childhood like Linh’s, or one where everything went perfectly, the fact can generally be agreed on: fluffy blankets are a good, good thing.

But Linh doesn’t think she was ever aware just how perfect fluffy blankets can be until they came piled in the arms of a blonde girl with tiny braids and green threaded through her waves at the door.

“Movie night?” Marella asks, wiggling a laptop in her other hand. “I noticed that you don’t have a TV yet.”

Linh lets her in, eager to spend more time with just her and especially eager to share another night with just the two of them. The idea of being in a dimly lit room wrapped in blankets with their bodies pressed together and only the light of a screen illuminating their faces doesn’t hurt either.

They curl up together on the couch without a second thought, as if they’ve been doing so all their lives. Linh adores the way Marella’s head fits in the crook of her neck like the last missing piece of a puzzle, and holds her breath as the blonde reaches across her and presses play on Netflix once they’ve settled.

When the girl falls asleep on Linh’s shoulder an hour later, she cuddles closer to the warmth of the fluffy blanket and her— crush, or love, maybe, she doesn’t know— pressing to her side.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

As nice of a distraction as Marella and her strange roommates can be in the months that pass, Linh has to come crashing back down to reality at some point. And crash she does, when the banging on her door at nine o’clock at night opens to the face she knows as well as her own.

Her brother, approaching her for the first time in years, bringing nothing but news of their father’s death.

Linh knows she should be feeling something. That she should be falling to her knees and sobbing dramatically, like a protagonist in a drama novel, or maybe grabbing his hands and begging him to tell her that it isn’t true. Instead, when Tam bears the news, all she can do is match his emotionless expression. After all, what is there to feel?

And why is she in such desperate need of comfort when, truth be told, she feels no suffering?

She can’t explain her mind’s twisted way of thinking, but she does know that it’s what leads her next door, and what pushes her to throw her arms around Marella’s neck when she comes to the door decked in pajamas and those long, irritating rainbow-striped socks that she loves so much.

Linh likes to believe that it’s her petty grudge against the annoying socks that makes her cry on Marella’s shoulder that night, but hiding from the truth isn’t as easy as she likes to believe.

And when Marella wraps her in a fuzzy blanket that rains tufts of fine fluff on their heads and pulls her in close, Linh has a hard time believing fluffy blankets aren’t the answer to all the world’s problems.

Confidence has finally come to her, and she’s able to give Tam a box of hair dye before he leaves. She doesn’t know if he’ll use it, or when she’ll see him again, but the smallest spark of light in his eyes when he takes the dye and turns it over in his hand is enough hope for her.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- 

When Marella appears at her door in the middle of the night this time, weeks since Linh’s father died and they last saw each other, Linh is surprised that she isn’t surprised. After all, surely there’s something seriously wrong if the only thing she says when someone comes knocking at her door at exactly three minutes past midnight is, “Did you bring the hair dye?”

She pulls the blonde inside softly, takes the fuzzy blanket still draped on her couch from their movie night, and wraps it around the girl’s shivering frame. Marella starts to sob on her shoulder. Her fingers wrap around Linh’s neck and latch onto her, bringing them both down to the carpet when her knees give. Linh immediately wraps an arm around her and holds her close.

Linh doesn’t know what’s wrong, but she does know that Marella is leaning on her for support, and she does know that she will always be here, for as long as the blonde might need.

When she finally stops crying and lets Linh reach gentle fingers to wipe her cheeks, and pulls out electric blue hair dye that brings a smile to both of their faces, Linh has a hard time believing that hair dye isn’t the cure for everyone’s sorrows.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Linh finds it funny that one can promise themselves one thing-- that they are going to try as hard as they can not to connect with others as a means of protecting themselves, for example-- but still end up breaking the promise if the right temptation crosses their path.

And her temptation? A certain blue-eyed blonde with now bright blue highlights who’s devious smirks and snarky words can snap Linh’s resolve in a second. She knows she should hate her for it, but surrounded by mischievous roommates with twinkling eyes and light smiles filled to the brim with warmth, she can’t help but snuggle closer to her weakness.

Her weakness, who is currently failing to dominate the board in a (not-so)friendly game of Christmas Monopoly. Marella informed her that it’s a holiday classic when she dragged her inside the house just an hour before, but judging by the rabid way the players are screaming at each other, Linh can’t say she agrees.

“What do you mean, the empire kind is the wrong kind?” Keefe screeches. “Duh, it’s easier!”

“For you, maybe! But it’s not the original!” Dex retorts.

Keefe jabs a finger at the board. “Then why are you still playing and why are you in second place?” He throws his hands up. “If you’re so mad about it, then stop playing and let the rest of us noncomplainers win.”

“Noncomplainers isn’t a word, Keefe,” Fitz says, idly shuffling the assortment of multi-colored money laid out in front of him. As banker, he’s the calmest and least angry of the bunch, though there’s something oddly menacing about the way he rearranges his money with careful, poised fingers.

Keefe, Dex, and Fitz are circled around the board, all nursing mugs of hot cocoa(which Linh has realized is a sort of trademark for them) in between bouts of shrieking, while Sophie left a little while ago to buy original Monopoly just in case Keefe and Dex destroy the board. Linh laughed when the exasperated blonde said it, but now she can see why it’s a legitimate concern.

Linh curls her cold feet in from her position on the long couch, and Marella automatically shifts the fluffy blanket they’re sharing to fully cover her toes again. Linh smiles up at her gratefully, and Marella offers a small smirk back. Then she goes right back to screaming. Linh debates calling Sophie and asking her to bring back ear plugs too.

“Whatever,” Biana scoffs. “You’re all sore losers.”

She is currently winning, as she has been for the entire game, and she glares down at the boys huddling around the game board from her perch in one of the armchairs.

And on it goes. At the end of the night, when Monopoly money is scattered on the floor and a smoking dinner that’s just a bit too salty is shared and hastily wrapped presents tied with glittery bows are exchanged(Marella is too impatient to wait for Christmas morning), Linh finds herself full of more love and joy than she thinks she ever has been in her entire life. There’s something oddly comforting about being with people who care for and accept her, even if it’s by default or association. Having someone who cares is a rare light in her life that most people take for granted.

Especially when there’s the smallest chance that the person who truly holds her heart returns her feelings.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- 

It’s the night before Christmas and Linh can’t sleep.

It’s the tossing and turning type of ‘can’t sleep’, the kind where Linh lies awake long after dark waiting for her mind and conscience to stop running around in circles around her head, the kind where her insecurities grow claws and fangs and sink them in skin-deep, where there is no light slipping through the cracks to keep them at bay.

And Linh hates that kind of ‘can’t sleep’.

It makes her antsy, on edge, and the urge to pace itches at her feet. The unfamiliar surface of the floor of Marella’s bedroom only makes matters worse, and as softly as she tries to twist under the thin covers, it doesn’t take long for the rustling on the floor to alert the blonde girl dozing off above her.

Marella slides to the floor sleepily before Linh can whisper a protest and lands next to her on the mattress with a grunt. Linh rolls over to face her, and is startled by how close their faces are. She can count the light freckles on Marella’s nose and cheeks when she’s this close. Moonlight is streaming into the room through the cracks in the shutters of the window, painting streaks of glowing white on the blonde’s face. She always looks beautiful, but Linh finds there’s something especially intimate about her in this moment. The air is suddenly buzzing with palpable tension, making her palms go slick with sweat and her mind hyper-aware of every movement. She can’t take her eyes off Marella.

Then, girl of Linh’s dreams breaks the stillness, leaning forward and pressing soft, sleepy lips to her own.

She’s asleep by the time she draws away, but Linh is shaking with adrenaline. It’s the moment she’s waited for so long she can hardly think of a time where she didn’t want the blonde.

And yet.

Linh’s the kind of girl with baggage, with the kind of ‘skeletons in the closet’ that people run away screaming from, not because it’s scary, but because it’s messy. Complicated. It bogs everyone who knows down, making every action in her presence laborious and painful with the knowledge of her past. Even her brother, who once promised to be by her side forever, wouldn’t stay.

She knows it’s irrational, but suddenly she can’t imagine how to face Marella.

She slips out of the apartment in the early hours of the morning so Marella’s blue gaze can’t stop her from running away. But despite her misgivings, the insecurities that still haven’t retracted their claws, and the voice in the back of her head whispering that she has to have imagined it, Linh can’t stop touching a finger to her lips, long after she’s left the buzzing moonlit atmosphere that allows slips of self control under the cover of night.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

It’s been weeks. Three weeks and five days, to be exact, and Linh still can’t figure out how to face her.

With every day that passes, she can feel the strong bonds they formed weakening. That’s one thing about relationships. They need an equal amount of effort. If Linh doesn’t put in enough, the object of her affection slips between her fingers before she can blink. That’s how she lost her brother, her friends, and any last semblance she might have had of “family”.

That is, until Marella.

She was persistent, even in the beginning, fighting to spend more and more time with a mildly resistant Linh, until she found it impossible to stay away. Her light is unlike any Linh has ever known, wild and fluid like an eternal flame that can’t be doused. That flame kept Linh alive for all these months, and yet here she is, ignoring it. Maybe even putting it through pain.

It takes a month, but it finally comes to her.

She realizes now that love isn’t something that affects only her, and that she isn’t the only one to win or lose in it. She isn’t the only person in love.

Love is two people, three people, ten people, a hundred people. Love is everyone who forces themselves into her life with the intent of staying no matter how dark it gets. Love is the flickers of light in the night and the bold streaks of sun in the morning. Love is the twinkling stars splattered across a purple painted sky.

Love is illumination. Love is clarity.  Love is a path paved special, with different twists and turns for everyone.

Love is...

Marella.

Love is Marella.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Weeks of radio silence after months of talking nonstop is hard to bounce back from, and they both know this well.

But Linh comes back anyway.  She comes knocking on Marella’s door exactly a month after they last talked, this time she being the one to approach at random in the middle of the night. When the door opens and she smiles apologetically, pressing a butterfly kiss to Marella’s forehead and pushing a big blanket and a bright, eye-melting color of hair dye into her arms in a silent apology, all Marella does is smile and pull her back in for a real, proper kiss.

Yeah, neon green and fluffy blankets are the solution to everything.

[onfreckledwings]

hoping you’ll see (what your love means to me)

15x20 fix-it songfic. shameless feel-good fluff. because our babies deserved the world.

When Dean dies on a Thursday in November, Cas is there to welcome him at the proverbial pearly gates. Sort of.

He can’t really even call it a gate. It’s blue skies, sloping mountains, pine trees, and open fields. The sun shines more brilliantly and warmer here.

The air breathes cleaner; the breeze is cool and languid.

He doesn’t realize he’d been walking until he comes to a stop, dirt swirling around his legs. Nothing hurt: not his hip, not his knees, his back, or chest.

Nothing.

“Well at least I made it to Heaven,” Dean murmurs to himself. In the next moment, Harvelle’s appears a few yards away.

“No way.”

He walks the short distance before standing in front of the bar, and he’s smiling so wide and he can feel his laugh lines on his cheeks and the crinkles of his eyes.

Harvelle’s Roadhouse

The same neon lights in the windows, the same sign. Everything is exactly the same.

“Hell yeah,” and then he’s walking up the porch and has a palm on the door before he stills.

Dean shuts his eyes briefly before opening them with a silent chuckle. He knows who’s there. Even before he turns his head.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean turns around to see Castiel standing a few yards away.

He feels his face cracking from smiling so wide, and he feels his eyes stinging with tears behind them. He faces Cas fully now, hands shoved into his pockets, and begins to walk towards him.

He ducks his head, almost shy, and glances up at him through his eyelashes. “Castiel,” he greets with pressed lips, eyes gleaming.

Heaven is strange, he thinks. He feels no sense of unease here. No nerves, no jitters. He only feels contentment. Peace. Joy.

Cas tilts his head in that fucking adorable way he does, and Dean can feel something behind his ribs melt. He stops when they are a few inches apart.

Cas’s eyes are bluer than Dean has ever seen them. Moss green and ethereal blue.

Sky and Earth.

The wind gusts gently around them. The blades of grass dance.

Cas lifts a hand and places it on Dean’s left shoulder. Cas’s shoulder. Dean smiles a small, watery thing.

“Are you...real? How-” and Dean trails off. He somehow already knows the answer. Cas squeezes his shoulder and smiles.

“Yes. It’s me.”

Dean’s eyes well up and his nose starts to tickle. He looks up to the sky and wets his lips in that way he does to hold tears at bay, before meeting blue again.

Dean reaches between them and grips Cas’s always-crooked tie. Cas looks confused at first, maybe even a little scared. But when Dean’s free hand comes to cradle the side of Cas’s neck and lets his fingers brush the strands of thick hair at its nape, Cas’s face smooths out and he stands a little taller.

One lone tear breaks free from the corner of Dean’s eye, and Cas’s thumb is there to catch it as he sweeps it over his cheekbone before cupping his jaw.

Dean tugs him close before snaking his arms around Cas’s waist under his trench coat and hugs him close, face buried in the angel’s shoulder. He melts when Cas envelopes him, cheek resting against his crown, hands rubbing soothing patterns against Dean’s back.

“You’re early,” Castiel whispers.

Dean gives a small chuckle. “Yeah, well...I’m a dumbass.” And then he’s inhaling slow and deep against Cas’s skin. Cas smells like sweet summer rain, the crisp air of fall.

He smells like Cas.

“And I missed you,” he murmurs against the warm swath of exposed skin on the angel’s neck before pressing a feather-light kiss there.

Cas seems to melt at the contact and grips Dean tighter. Dean feels fingers card through the short strands of his hair and Cas’s other hand comes up to cup the back of Dean’s head.

“I missed you too.”

Something occurs to Dean then, and he lifts his head to meet Cas’s eyes. His hands travel up Cas’s arms until they rest on his shoulders.

“Hang on...how did you get out? How did you get here?”

Cas simply smiles and gives Dean a knowing look. “Jack may have had something to do with it.”

Dean unfurls a bark of laughter from his chest before grasping that tie again.

“That’s our boy.”

Cas smiles again, and Dean thinks he’ll never ever tire of seeing it.

His eyes flit between Cas’s and his lips and back again, and he flattens his free palm on Cas’s chest, just over where his heart would be.

“Cas,” he begins, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “about what you said..before you left-”

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean,” Cas offers quietly. “I don’t expect-”

“Well that’s good,” he cuts Cas off, “‘cause I wasn’t really plannin’ on talkin’. I’m shit with words.”

Cas blinks quizzically. “Wha-” but he trails off when Dean grazes the stubble of his cheeks with the soft pads of his thumbs.

Dean starts to tremble slightly when he cups either side of Cas’s jaw again.

He dives in.

Their mouths slot together perfectly; Cas’s is warm and soft and pliant, and Dean brushes his tongue against the crease of Cas’s lips, and Cas lets him in.

Dean knows then that he’s in Heaven.

*

Everyone’s here.

Dean’s eyes scan the entire barroom from the table where he and Cas sit: at the bar, there’s Ellen, Jo, Ash, Bobby, and Karen discussing their hunting glory days. Charlie and Kevin are huddled with their laptops at one of the booths (because there’s WiFi in Heaven, apparently), and are probably discussing the latest sci-fi series or some other nerdy thing.

John and Mary are sitting at one of the candle-lit tables, holding hands and murmuring in each other’s ears that is always met with soft laughter.

Rufus is there too with Aretha at one end of the bar, Johnnie Walker Blue in hand. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man smile the way he is right now, so earnest and genuine.

Missouri and Pamela sit at the table nearest to Dean and Cas, talking about when Pamela séance’d Cas after Dean was rescued from Hell.

“I think he was just trying to show off in front of his boyfriend,” Pamela teases with a laugh as Missouri drops her face in one hand.

“Good Lord,” she marvels. “Some first impression there, Castiel. Burning out a woman’s eyes? Oh!”

Cas ducks his head. “It was an accident, I assure you,” and Dean can’t help but feel a little bad for the guy.

Pamela pats Cas on the back. “All in the past, sweetie. No harm done. Well, no permanent damage anyway,” and then tilts her head back in laughter. Dean can’t help but snicker.

Everything is fucking perfect.

Contentedness blooms in his belly, warming his insides until he feels like his body is humming. Everybody he has ever loved and lost in one room.

Sam, Eileen, and the others will be along, Bobby had said. And he feels complete peace knowing that Sam is in good hands, and that they will take care of each other until their times come.

Dean sits back in his chair, glass of wine in hand. They’re a bottle and a half in, celebrating Dean’s arrival, and his head is buzzing in the best possible way.

He glances at Cas from across the table through his eyelashes.

His trench coat, suit jacket, and tie are all draped on the backrest of the chair, because we gotta get you out of this holy tax accountant get up, man, and if he’s honest, Dean wants to feast his eyes a little.

Cas’s white shirt is unbuttoned at the neck, and Dean’s mouth goes a little dry at the naked dip of his collar bone. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Dean marvels at the ripples of muscle and bone in the angel’s forearms, his fingers itching to touch.

Dean smiles. His cheeks are warm, and something curious blossoms behind his ribs.

“Dean?”

He snaps out of his trance and meets Cas’s eyes. “Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” Cas asks, and Dean realizes that he’s been caught staring.

Dean smirks. “Mhm. Jus’ enjoyin’ the view.”

Dean almost dies (again) when Cas blushes and ducks his chin with a roll of his eyes.

Yeah, he can get used to this.

The jukebox in the corner starts playing a new song, and Dean straightens in his chair with a wild grin.

“Oh hell yes,” he shouts with a slap to the table, wine bottles and glasses clattering. “I love this song. C’mon Cas, you’re dancin’ with me.” He stands and reaches for Cas with an outstretched hand.

Horror flashes across the angel’s face. “Dean, no. I’m a terrible dancer. I couldn’t-”

“Well, that makes two of us then” he says and grabs Cas’s hand and pulls him to his feet. “Come on. My ‘got-dead’ party, my rules.”

Cas groans and throws his head back with a grimace as he lets Dean guide him to the dance floor. “‘Got-dead’ party? Really?”

“Yeah, yeah, shhh,” Dean smirks as he turns to face Cas. “Here, lemme lead.”

Dean clasps Cas’s hand with his own and draws them to his chest, his other hand wrapping around his waist coming to rest on his back. Cas’s free arm mimics Dean’s.

Attached at the...everything.

Their mouths are inches apart, and Dean’s bowed legs go a little weak as he stares into Cas’s eyes. The lighting in the bar changes to ambient, almost candle-like glow.

Lying beside you, here in the dark,

Feeling your heartbeat with mine.

Softly you whisper, you're so sincere;

How could our love be so blind?

They sway somewhat in tune with the rhythm, but Dean’s a little wine drunk and accidentally steps on Cas’s toes. More than once.

“Sorry,” Dean giggles—giggles?— and lets all of his weight lean into Cas, who accepts it willingly. Dean’s lips press against his temple, and Cas hums appreciatively as Dean starts to sing low into Cas’s ear.

We sailed on together,

We drifted apart,

And here you are, by my side.

So now I come to you with open arms,

Nothing to hide, believe what I say.

So here I am, with open arms,

Hoping you'll see what your love means to me,

Open arms.

“‘s how I feel about you, you know,” Dean murmurs as he nuzzles the bolt of Castiel’s jaw. “I’m not good with words, but..,” Dean slurs and sucks a gentle kiss into his neck. “This could totally be our song.”

“Dean…” and Dean pulls back slightly at the crack in Cas’s voice. Tears spill over from those cobalt blues, and Dean’s thumbs are quick to catch them as he frames Cas’s face.

“Hey, hey. None of that,” he says through a smile, licking his lips. “You’ve got me. You always have. And I’ve got you, so…” he smiles and presses the softest of kisses to Castiel’s mouth before resting their foreheads together.

They never stop dancing.

Living without you, living alone,

This empty house seems so cold.

Wanting to hold you,

Wanting you near,

How much I wanted you home.

Now that you've come back,

Turned night into day,

I need you to stay.

“I love you,” Castiel says, and he brings their joint hands to his lips and presses a kiss to Dean’s knuckles.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and nods knowingly. It may be a little easier to accept love up here, but sometimes old habits die hard. Even in death.

“Me too,” he murmurs, and he wraps his free arm even tighter around the soft, curved line of Cas’s waist for emphasis.

So now I come to you with open arms,

Nothing to hide, believe what I say,

So here I am, with open arms;

Hoping you'll see what your love means to me,

Open arms.

As the song ends, Dean thinks maybe this could be his forever. Surrounded by family, both given and chosen; blissful in his angel’s arms. The love of his life. The one who has saved him more times than Dean can count. At utter peace knowing that Eileen will take good care of Sam, and he looks forward to the day when they can all be together once again.

Until then, he’ll take this. The life he’s always dreamed of but was too scared to hope for. A life of love, warmth, comfort, and peace.

A life after death.

And he’ll think, maybe, just maybe, he deserves it.

fin.

@blacklightguidesnic tortured me this morning and put this incredibly soft scene in my head. here you go ♥️

[lluvguts]

just pretend for now // reddie

(mostly posting my ao3 fics here for now // i’ll take requests too!)

pairing: eddie kaspbrak x richie tozier 

genre/warnings: none! fluff

word count: 2,037

summary: a loser’s club wedding...but kids!

“Let’s just skip it.”

“Our own wedding, Rich?”

“We already got married, Eds,” Richie murmured as he turned over in the sheets to reach for Eddie in the mid morning light. He was well aware of the plans that had to be set into motion, as well as the many things they must actually be present for―like getting married, for one―but all Richie felt like doing was spending the rest of their Friday afternoon in the hotel bed. Well, Eddie had brought separate bed sheets for the hotel bed, but still the same idea in spirit.

Eddie pulled Richie closer and rested a hand in his tousled hair. Though he did not fully bring him to his chest―the wound had healed months ago, but Eddie was still extremely careful. It made Richie wonder what their wedding night was going to look like if Eddie wouldn’t touch him. Not like it made much of a difference considering all the other times…

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but we can’t just not go to our rehearsal dinner,” He stated, craning over Richie to stare at the clock displayed on the hotel nightstand with a groan.

Richie tilted his head up to stare at Eddie―or the foggy shape he assumed was his soon-to-be husband, having forgotten to put on his glasses.

“You don’t remember when we got married as kids?”

“I don’t think that a children’s cereal box ring counts towards marriage.”

“Oh, please. It wasn’t a cereal box prize…It was a Ring Pop,” Richie said with dignity.

“You’re gonna have to tell me the story of our so-called wedding, since there’s clearly some pieces I’m missing.”

Richie flourished a hand, in an old British clip. “With pleasure, Mr. Tozier.”

“Tozier-Kaspbrak,” Eddie corrected him.

“Nuance. Anyway, I’m pretty sure it was one hot ass summer when we were all sitting in Bill’s backyard, eating candy…”  

The Denbrough’s yard was stifling that summer in Maine, and all of the Losers crowded under the aged umbrella from their outdoor patio furniture to stay cool in the grass. Mike and Stanley were huddled close, admiring a bluejay that had perched on the fence, while Ben passed around a plastic bag of assorted candies from Costello’s Market―one that his mother had purchased for him the morning of―and tried not to sneak a glance at Beverley’s smile, or the way the sun made her hair glow like an open fire.

“It’s so fuckin’ hot,” Richie whined, popping a cherry Ring Pop into his mouth.

Ben shifted uncomfortably on his place in the dead grass. “You shouldn’t say that word Richie!”

“Oh hush, Haystack. I can say whatever I’d like,” He replied coolly and fell onto his back to stare at the cloudless sky.

“There’s nothing to do out here,” Eddie said in a soft voice, still awed by Richie’s crude remark. The brown-haired boy had some color on his cheeks, but not from the heat. He was startled, and maybe a little captivated by how confident Richie was, and Eddie wondered if some of that confidence could work on him the next time Belch Huggins shoved him off the playground equipment at school.

Bill fished inside the shopping bag for a candy bar that wasn’t already melted. “W-We have some board games i-i-inside.”

“Let’s go to the library,” Mike murmured. “There’s a new issue of Superman out and if we don’t act now all the other kids'll take them all.”

Stanley leaned in toward Mike’s neck and used the binoculars he was wearing, pointing at the bird. “No, let’s go back to my house for my sketchbook so I can draw her. Look, she’s so pretty.”

The three argued about what to do when Richie pondered over his candy, then said thoughtfully, “We could get married.”

Eddie looked away, knowing full well that Richie’s finger poking into his side meant that he was talking to him.

“W-What?” Bill spoke above Stanley and Mike’s chatter. Ben was too busy sorting the candy to pay much attention.

Richie shrugged, wiping sweaty hair out of his face. “We’ve got the rings, right Eds?”

Eddie crossed his arms, scowling at the Ring Pop on his own finger and spoke to the ground.

“Don’t call me Eds. You know it’s not my name.”

“It’s just pretend…unless you’re too chicken to do it,” Richie challenged.

Beverly glanced between the both of them, her eyes finally landing on Richie as a wicked grin lit her face.

“I’ll be the lucky lady, if my daddy doesn’t find out,” She giggled.

Richie sat up, wiping the grass from his shirt. “I was talking about Eddie Spaghetti, Bev. But you can be my best man.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Stan said.

“Fine! I’ll marry Beverly, then Eds. Okay?”

Stan pulled his binoculars down. “You’re still not getting the point.”

“Oh, whatever. We’ve got a wedding to do,” Richie stood alongside Bev and held out his hand.

Eddie blinked at him for a speechless moment but took his hand warily.

“This is a bad idea,” He mumbled with a red face as the three sautnered over to the Denbrough’s rusting trellis, its vines once lively now hung dead across the scorching metal.

“Bill! Will you come marry us?” Beverly shouted across the lawn, even though the boys were only a few feet away.

“S-Sure Bevvie,” The boy immediately stood and went to her.

“Got yours, Bev?” Richie held up his candy ring, as well as the one on Eddie’s hand, still clasped in his own.

“Let go of my hand!” Eddie flung his arm back, nursing the Ring Pop in hopes that neither could see his expression. It was the only comfort he had, that sweet taste of blue dye, he’d left his inhaler at home.

Beverly showed them her ring, fresh from the package and shining a neon green on her pale finger.

Bill clapped his hands together, nervously looking to Bev. “Alright, uh, R-Richie go stand by Eh-Eh-Eddie, I’ll marry Bev and you f-first.”

Richie grabbed Beverly’s hands and grinned sheepishly at the young girl. The other three watched from the shade of the umbrella, a mix of amusement and anxiety filtering across their faces. Luckily Bill’s parents were not home to see the ceremony, but the Losers knew neither mother nor father would take much interest in their antics.

“Do y-you Beverly Marsh tu-tu-take Richie T-Tozier to be your, uh, husband?”

“It’s ‘lawfully wedded husband,’ Bill!” Mike commented, while Stan slapped his shoulder.

Richie winked at Bev, which made her laugh harder. “I do.”

Bill nodded in agreement. “Okay, D-Do you, Richie Tozier t-take her to be your,” He turned to Mike, remembering the phrase, “Lawfully wedded wife?”

“Sure do, Big Bill. Now, how bout a good one, right here, Bevvie?” Richie clicked his tongue and tapped a cheek with his finger.

Bev blushed and leaned forward to peck his cheek. Eddie closed his eyes, trying not to picture Richie’s lips on his face. She pulled back, smiling and waving around her ringed finger in the hot air. Richie did the same.

“Eddie, your t-t-turn.”

Beverly gave Richie’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before dashing off to hide under the umbrella. Eddie ran his tongue across the dry roof of his mouth and stepped forward, accepting the boy’s sweaty hands.

He hardly understood Bill’s words, not because of the stutter but more so because of the way Richie cleared his throat, and the firm grip he had on his hands, as if it were an actual ceremony and not something thrown together in a small town backyard.

Richie was busy staring at Eddie and stammered out an ‘I do’ just in time for him to whisper the same.

Bill bristled at the next line, his eyes flickering to Richie, who nodded his approval and said, “You m-may, uh, kiss each other?”

“On the cheek!” Eddie squealed, but Richie used their locked hands to propel him forward, smacking their lips together with an unceremonious crash of saliva. Richie’s mouth moved quickly across his, with neither having the slightest idea what they were doing or what it meant, but were drawn further into the kiss by the sugary taste left from their Ring Pops.

Richie’s glasses drove up against Eddie’s face in the seconds that their kiss lasted, and when he moved away Eddie let a small smile break through his resolve at Richie’s crooked glasses and wet curls of messy black hair. Eddie wouldn’t realize it until much later in the day but that hot summer afternoon, and Richie’s cherry flavored kiss was a brisk line in the sand on his feelings, and the memory of it would linger in his mind every time the dark-haired boy passed by. He kissed me, he kissed me, his mind would scream with gleeful abandon. Now go tell him you like him.

“See? Just pretend,” Richie released Eddie’s hands and stuck the Ring Pop into his mouth, biting it clean off the plastic ring. He stuck his tongue out, it was still red from the artificial flavoring and Eddie could almost feel that cherry candy in his own mouth. He shuddered at the thought and hurried away from the other boy, terrified and amazed at him.

The patio door slid on its hinges, and a small mousy haired boy stepped out―George, Bill’s little brother.

“What's going on? Who got candy without me?” The boy commanded, looking hurt by the other’s failure to include him.

Bill rushed to his side, holding out what was left of his chocolate. “S-Sorry Georgie. We were just gonna ask i-i-if you wanted some.”

“Uh huh.” Georgie snatched the candy bar, then sought out the plastic bag that promised more treats.

“So what’re you gonna do now Richie, with your new husband and wife?” Mike asked. Stan was bent over his travel-sized birth encyclopedia, so lost in thought the boy was getting smudges of milk chocolate on the pages.

Once Richie went back to the umbrella he slung an arm around Beverly and Eddie’s shoulders and looked up at the sun with a weary grin.

“Take a nap.”

“See Eds? Married,” Richie sighed happily as he concluded his story.

“Rich, there’s no way that you kissed me in front of everyone at ten years old.”

“Would you like me to call Bev for clarification?” Richie said, lovingly resting his head against Eddie’s waist, smiling where the other man could not see―because for a minute Eddie did not flinch away.

Eddie eased Richie’s head away from him and slid off the bed, throwing open his luggage.

“I’d like for you to take back the past twenty minutes, because now we’re going to be late. Ask her tonight at our actual wedding rehearsal.”

Richie rolled over Eddie’s side of the bed and found his phone and glasses while trying to tug off the shirt he’d slept in. “Yeah, Bev? Remember that one time at Bill’s house when we got married?”  

“You’re calling her, Rich?” Eddie disappeared into the bathroom so he didn’t have to witness the reason they were going to inevitably be late for dinner.

Richie stopped and listened, slipping into a pair of dress pants. He rolled his eyes and threw the phone onto the rumpled sheets with a childish whine.

“What did she say?” Eddie asked smugly, poking his head out of the door.

“She said, and I quote, ‘If you don’t show up in the next five minutes I am telling your parents you decided to elope at age forty.’”

Eddie grinned and straightened his shirt collar, exiting the bathroom to kiss Richie’s smooth cheek. At least he’d done one thing: shave.

He took Richie’s arm and they headed out the hotel door. “Let’s go then, Mr. Tozier.”

“That’s Tozier-Kaspbrak, according to you,” Richie grumbled.

“I said I was fine with Tozier.”

“Are you ‘fine’ with it? Just fine? ‘Fine’ is like, ‘I’m fine with my shitty low-end job.’ That sort of fine?”

“How about, ‘I’m more than fine with it for the rest of my life?’”

Richie chuckled. “Sounds good to me, Mr. Tozier. The wedding planner’s gonna give us hell, though.”

“We’ve been through worse.”

[nitewrighter]

Short fic of Genji stressing out about what to get Angela for Christmas?

“Blenders are romantic, right?” Genji looked up from a store window to Tracer.

“Uh…” Tracer glanced off and sipped her latte.

“It’s healthy—“ Genji tried to explain, “She’s a doctor—it fits. Right?”

Tracer just gave him a confused, pitying look.

“…not romantic,” he sighed, letting his shoulders slump and his head drop.

“Nnno. Not romantic,” said Tracer.

It was one of those seaside winter days that is somehow both bright and cloudy. A jumble of Christmas market-like stalls for tourists fleeing colder northern weather crowded the sidewalks, and a few shopkeepers were poking at their window displays, putting up bows and baubles to draw the eye. Tracer had arms full of bags and boxes, and Genji had only two bags hanging on one elbow. They were both in civvies, Tracer in a baggy cardigan with elbow patches and skinny jeans, and Genji in a neon windbreaker and charcoal joggers. The glow of Genji’s green visor seemed to be visibly dimmed with his own exhaustion.

“I don’t want to overthink it,” Genji said firmly as he and Tracer walked down the street.

“Uh huh,” said Tracer, sipping her overly sweet latte next to him.

“But it’s our first winter moved in together,” said Genji.

“Right.”

“And I want to get Angela something she’ll actually use...”

“Of course.”

“But something that she’ll like,” said Genji.

“Obviously,” said Tracer.

“Something pretty.”

“Jewelry?”

“No, we make too much fun of those holiday jewelry commercials,” muttered Genji, “And I don’t want to get her something office or work related--I mean, that’s not romantic.”

“Mm,” Tracer sipped her latte.

“But she still should use it.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“But I don’t want to overthink it,” said Genji.

Tracer didn’t really have the heart to tell him that that was exactly what he was doing.

“Genji,” Tracer started gently, “Did she tell you she had anything in mind?”

“She said she couldn’t think of anything and then she said, ‘Oh but I’ll be happy with whatever you give me, Genji,’” Genji huffed.

“Well that’s good!” Tracer said brightly.

“No it’s not,” said Genji, pressing his fingertips to his temples, “She knows she can get me some dumb Tokusatsu thing and I’d love it, but I have no idea what to get her!”

“Oh come on, Genji, you two spent years staying up into the wee hours of the morning talking! You can’t be at that much of a loss!”

“Well we’d mostly talk about work and other--” Genji seemed to catch himself, “Um...”

“...talk shit about the rest of the team?” Tracer guessed with an arched eyebrow.

“No--!” Genji answered on reflex before rubbing the back of his neck, “Well... sometimes.”

Tracer snorted before glancing off. “All right then. Just think-- what does she like to do in her spare time?”

“She reads a lot,” Genji said thoughtfully, “But it’s like... she reads too much for me to know what kind of book to get her, if that makes sense? What if she already read it? Or what if she read a bad review of it? Or what if she read something about the author so she doesn’t want to read it? I don’t read enough to know what book to get her.”

Tracer sighed. “You really are devoted to making this harder for yourself than you have to.”

“I am not!” said Genji. 

“Y’know what I think?”

“What?”

“If this is your first holiday moved in together, you should get something cozy! Homey, don’t you think?”

“Cozy and homey...” Genji repeated the word then seemed to think for a few seconds, “...A blender?”

Tracer slapped her forehead. “Why are you so hung up on the blender!?”

“I feel like we need a blender!” Genji said helplessly. 

“Well get a blender but don’t make the blender the Christmas gift! For heaven’s sake, think!”

“Okay! Okay! I’m thinking! I’m thinking!” said Genji. He was quiet for a long time. “We both spent so long traveling, and after all my time with Zenyatta and the monks...” he trailed off then suddenly perked up, “I have to go,” he said, stopping his pace.

“What?” said Tracer but Genji was already running off back in the direction of the watchpoint.

“I know what I should get her! Thank you, Tracer!” his voice carried on the air in his wake and Tracer huffed and shook her head, before perking up as Genji suddenly came sprinting back and skidding to a halt in front of her again.

“…I just realized I need a pilot, “ he said breathlessly.

“You need a pilot?” said Tracer, tilting her head.

“You think Emily might want something from Nepal?”

The slightest smile tugged at Tracer’s mouth.

——

“...so you’re borrowing the Orca---for what?” Jack Morrison was leaning against the holo-map in Winston’s lab with his arms folded.

“A patrol,” said Tracer and Genji at the same time. 

“It has been a while since we checked in with our contacts with the Shambali” Winston mused. 

“Too long!” said Genji with an odd amount of earnestness in his voice.

“Entirely too long,” said Tracer, “Someone really ought to check on them.”

“Someone they know,” said Genji, with an airy gesture, “Just to make sure everything’s all right.”

“No news isn’t always good news!” added Tracer.

“Uh...huh...” Jack’s voice trailed off. 

“We can get some intel--” said Genji.

“See where we can help out!” Tracer added brightly.

“Well.. diplomacy was an important aspect of the old Overwatch, and with so little activity from Talon these past few weeks, a fact-gathering mission could help us get our bearings...” Winston said thoughtfully.

“Mm-hmm!” grunted Tracer as both she and Genji nodded eagerly. 

“We can send Doctor Ziegler as the mission’s medic in case--” Jack started.

“No!” Genji and Tracer said on reflex both a little too loudly before Genji quickly cleared his throat. 

“Er--Obviously Zenyatta would send the best message of solidarity with the Shambali,” said Genji.

Jacks frown pulled at his scars but Winston rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“You make a good point...” said Winston, “All right then. You have my permission to take the Orca to Nepal.”

“A very wise ruling, Commander Winston!” said Tracer saluting.

“We won’t let you down!” said Genji, clenching his fist in determination before they both ran off.

Jack watched as the door closed behind them after they left. “...you realize they’re both full of shit and taking the Orca for a joyride, right?”

“Oh obviously,” said WInston, turning his attention back to the holo-map.

“Just checking,” said Jack.

----

It was drizzling on Christmas morning on the Watchpoint. Both Genji and Mercy were comfortably sitting on the floor, in their pajamas, Mercy’s hair up in a messy bun, leaning against the coffee table where their dinky little rosemary bonsai valiantly strained under the weight of a single ornament as Genji pulled the wrapping paper off of a box and lifted up the lid.

“Woah...” a short laugh fell out of Genji, “Really?”

“Is it the right one?” said Mercy, tucking her hair back.

“They haven’t made these in 20 years!” said Genji, pulling the asymmetrical game console out of its box, “How did you get a real FujitaCast One?”

“Well, I found a broken one in one of the pawn shops around here, and then I remembered you talking about playing the first Vivi’s Adventure on it, so I grabbed it, and I had to get D.Va’s help in identifying which components needed replacing and we just...spun them up in the 3D printer here!”

“Angela--” Genji wanted to squeeze the little plastic console close but was handling it very gingerly, “This is incredible. I--” he huffed, “I can’t remember the last time anyone put this much effort into a gift for me.” 

“...it really wasn’t all that much trouble--really, just D.Va helping out and looking up some components online--” Mercy was blushing, “I just... thought it might be nice to have something aside from just the holoscreen to warm this place up. I warn you, though, I’m absolutely terrible at video games.”

“Psh. I doubt that. You’ve got surgeon hands.”

“Oh you’ll see,” said Mercy with a smirk, adjusting her glasses.

“Thank you, Angela,” said Genji, gently setting the console on the coffee table. He reached over and grabbed a flatter box and held it out to her, “I, um... got you this.”

Mercy gave the box a tentative shake, already aware of the sliding sound of cloth on cardboard. 

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with you and Tracer’s mysterious three day trip into Nepal, would it?” she said, giving a sly smile to Genji.

“That was a very legitimate mission, I’ll have you know,” said Genji, folding his arms, “I milked a yak and everything.”

Mercy snorted. “Where would the world be without Overwatch and its yak-milking Cyborgs?”

“Chaos,” said Genji with mock gravitas, “Tragedy.”

“Oh definitely,” said Mercy, opening the present. Genji couldn’t help but smile at the way she only pulled at the folds and ends of the paper, trying to take the wrapping off as intactly as possible before sliding the box out. Her brow crinkled with some concentration as she lifted the lid off of the box before her eyes widened. She pulled a bright golden yellow cloth from the box, let it hang over one hand and traced her fingers over it with the other. “Soft...” she said quietly, before looking up at Genji, “Shambali?”

“Yes,” said Genji.

“...it’s beautiful,” said Mercy, drawing more of it from the box and letting it drape over her forearms as she looked at it more fully. Voluminous sleeves fell over her arm as she spread the cloth out, “Oh--It’s a robe!” she said, her face lighting up.

“I do keep saying you should relax more,” said Genji, with a slight smirk, folding his arms. 

Mercy snorted and rolled her eyes before pressing the cloth to the side of her face, “It’s so soft,” she said, her voice half-muffled into the cloth, before her eyes opened. She blinked a few times and pulled the cloth away slightly, peering closer, “This pattern...” she started, squinting a little.

“It’s Omnicode,” said Genji, scooching closer, “Well--the textile, the words are woven into the pattern. So every cloth woven is unique and has its own message. It’s sort of like the lines of code from that pre-Crisis movie--you know, the one where they all dress in black and wear sunglasses and do Kung-fu and freeze in mid-air and--” He caught himself and gave a dismissive hand wave, “What I’m saying is,” pointed down a line that was slightly more orange than its surrounding threads. His finger trailed down the line of tiny squarish symbols that would fall over the heart if she were wearing the robe, “That’s your name, see? Angela Ziegler. And this character right here below it doesn’t quite translate to human language, but it means ‘Part of me,’” he pointed to other lines of Omnicode on the robe, “And--and a lot of this script here--and--here--and here, is from the letters we were sending each other.” He chuckled a little, “It’s really amazing to watch a Shambali Omnic weaver work--they’re trying to turn it into a sort of tourist thing up at the monastery, like, even if you aren’t interested in the Shambali’s message, you can still appreciate the craft, but being that far up in the Himalayas makes it hard to---” He had to cut himself off as Mercy braced one hand on his shoulder and cupped the other at his jawline to land a clumsy kiss on the corner of his mouth. He turned his head only slightly to course-correct and return the kiss more fully, his hand sliding up the back of her neck to weave into her hair. He could feel her breath puff with a slight laugh against his scars as she broke away, her arms still draped around him. 

“Um--” A short laugh escaped her, “Thank you--It’s--It’s beautiful, Genji,” she said, readjusting her glasses, “It’s really beautiful. And the letters--it’s... I love it.” 

“Look, I just called in a few favors and milked a couple yaks,” said Genji, with faux-humility, “I’m not the one who 3-D printed components for a 20-year-old game console.”

Mercy snickered and leaned on him amongst the wrinkled wrapping paper, “I’m just glad I didn’t panic and just grab that blender,” she said with a happy sigh. 

Genji perked up slightly.

“What?” said Mercy, looking up at him.

Genji just snickered and leaned his head on hers, “Nothing,” he said, smiling, “I love you.”

Mercy snorted. “I love you too,” she said, pressing the soft fabric of the robe against herself as she leaned right back on him.

[the-werdna]

Title: Robcina Week Day 3 - Free Day

Description: Just another day after school. No new incidents in the outrealms. No upcoming exams. Perhaps the perfect day to spend some time with Lucina. She had mentioned something about wanting to go shopping. What was the worst that could happen?

Notes: Once again we delve into my Awakening Persona AU, because no one can stop me! Takes place prior to Chapters 41, 47, and 61 of Love Across Time, which are likewise set in this AU

Words: 2099

A shrill bell chimed, announcing the end of the school day.

Robin quickly scratched down the last few characters he'd been copying from the board into his notebook before standing. The notebook, his pens, pencils, and other school supplies were swiftly shunted into his open backpack a moment later. That settled, he stepped out into the hallways, blinking against the afternoon light streaming through the windows of the hallway,

Right, now I just need to decide how to spend the rest of the day, Robin thought to himself.

He had several options after all. Since it was a Tuesday, the sports club wouldn't be meeting, so that wasn't an option. He did still have the writing club he could attend or perhaps one of his part time jobs he could always attend. Studying in the library was always an option, though by this point he wasn't sure it could offer much improvement anymore, having scored top of his class the past two exams.

Perhaps now would be a good time to work on one of my "social links", Robin pondered. He sighed. He really did hate that term, at least when referring to time he spent with the many friends he'd made since coming to the town. The way Igor referred to them, as if they were simply a means as a wild card user to empower his Personas… it felt too clinical to him. Too impersonal.

That said, since Kendo club won't be meeting today either, Lucina should be free, Robin realized. She did mention something about wanting my help picking some stuff out next time she went shopping.

Making up his mind, Robin made for the front door, swapping out his school shoes for his usual pair before heading outside. Looping around to the back of the school, he found Lucina right where he expected her to be, seated on one of the benches that overlooked the plot of land maintained by the gardening club. Though not a member of the club herself, he knew that Lucina still enjoyed the peaceful spot near the flowers. Though summer was almost over and soon the garden would be empty. He couldn't help but wonder if she'd still come to the spot then.

Lucina didn't notice him at first, her gaze on the butterflies fluttering between the flowers. Only when he was a few steps away did she look up, turning to him. "Oh… Hello, Robin" Lucina greeted, standing.

"I was wondering if you would be free to hang out?" Robin asked.

"Oh, yes, of course. Actually, I was thinking of stopping by a store on my way home. Would you like to come? Of course, only if you are interested."

"Lucina has asked to spend time with you…"

"Since you have Lachesis, a Persona of the Fortune Arcana, you feel you could be closer…"

"Will you spend the afternoon with Lucina?"

"I'd be happy to. You did mention you wanted my input on some things, right?" Robin asked.

Lucina looked happy at this, nodding fiercely. "Yes, of course! Come, let us hurry then before they close!"

. . . . .

Making their way to the clothing store, the two quickly set about browsing through the racks, Robin letting Lucina take the lead.

"What do you think about these," Lucina asked, producing a skirt and blouse she'd picked.

"Well it's… certainly very you, Lucina," he said, trying to speak as politely as he could.

In truth even a fashion novice such as himself could tell the two pieces didn't remotely go together. The blouse, yellow with red polka dots, and the skirt, green and purple stripes, clashed immensely. Nor was it helped that both were possibly the brightest and most saturated pieces of clothing in the entire store, so much that they practically glowed.

"Hmmm, I suppose. Though perhaps…" setting the outfit aside, Lucina reached for another shirt. Then a jacket, and then a set of pants. "What about these?"

The pants were bright orange. The shirt was lime green with pink flowers. And the jacket was sky blue with neon yellow stripes down the arms. It honestly wasn't much better.

Robin opened his mouth to try and tell her the truth, only to stop as his gaze fell on Lucina's face. She was smiling brightly, looking happier than he'd ever seen her. Her eyes sparkled with radiant joy, her smile one of almost childlike glee. In that moment Robin knew he couldn't be the one to take that away from her.

"I think it's perfect," he told her. Somehow he even meant it, as even as he imagined her in his mind's eye wearing the garish ensemble it somehow looked great on her.

"Thank you! I'm so glad," Lucina told him, draping the clothes over an arm. "To tell the truth, I haven't been shopping for clothes like this since I was little. My mother used to take me all the time back then…" There was a brief moment where her smile faltered at the mention of her mother, but it quickly recovered. So complete was her happiness in that moment, even that memory couldn't steal it from her.

Returning the first outfit to the rack, Lucina stepped back, again looking at the clothes she picked out. "I wonder if I can find anything else that will go well with this? No, it's fine on its own. I just know it will look great with what I already own," she touched the red and blue striped scarf she alway wore. "So shall we go to the register then? There is still time before I must run off to work, and I'd like to go check one more place before-"

Lucina stopped at the sound of harsh laughter coming from nearby. There, several racks over were three girls Robin recognized from school though he did not know their names. Though he thought they were third years like Lucina.

One of the girls shielded her mouth behind her hand, whispering something to the girls. While he couldn't make out what was said, the smug way she regarded Lucina and the outfit held in her hands made it plain enough exactly what was the subject of her scorn. Snickering giggles from the other girls soon followed, taking shared amusement at whatever remark had been made at Lucina's expense.

At once Lucina's eyes seemed to glaze over slightly, growing distant as she returned the clothes to the rack. While her expression remained stoic, Robin could tell just how saddened she was.

Anger flashing, Robin turned, starting towards the girls, fully prepared to give them a piece of his mind. However before he could move more than a couple steps he was stopped by Lucina, blocking him with an outstretched hand.

"It's alright, Robin. They're not worth your time," Lucina assured him. While he caught a brief flash of appreciation in her eyes, evidently touched that he'd so quickly jump to her defense, the sadness in her voice remained.

Robin turned and watched as the girls departed the store, leaving the two of them alone.

"Why did you stop me? Their behavior was uncalled for," Robin asked.

"It's nothing I am not used to," Lucina told him solemnly. "As long as I can remember, I have often been a source of mockery among my peers. On account of how ill-adept I am when it comes to more… feminine interests, such as these. As well as my other oddities..."

Robin knew exactly what she was referring to. Lucina's mother had died of illness when she was very little, and with her father's time so often occupied with work, it had fallen to Lucina to take over much of the raising of her younger sister. Combine that with working several part time jobs to supplement their family's income taking what was left of her time, Lucina simply hadn't had time to live a normal childhood and be like other girls her age.

She looked back at the abandoned outfit and sighed. "To be entirely honest, I had hoped this would be an opportunity to learn, but I suppose it was not to be…"

Reaching out, Robin picked up the clothes from the rack, handing them back to her. When she looked at him in surprise, Robin explained, "the Lucina i know would never give up so easily. No matter what others may say."

"Robin..." Lucina trailed off, hesitantly accepting the clothes from him. Briefly their hands touched, and both of them pulled away at the contact, blushing.

"Erm, right…" Lucina turned away quickly, trying to hide her reaction. "I thank you for your kind words. Truly." She glanced back up and him sheepishly, before quickly looking down at her feet, embarrassed….

"You feel your relationship with Lucina has grown deeper…"

"The Lucina Social Link has reached level 6!"

"Your power to Create Personas of the Fortune Arcana has grown!"

"Lucina's growth of heart has affected her Persona as well…"

"Sigurd learned Light Amp!"

"Still…" Lucina at last managed to look up, glancing between him and the mismatched outfit. "Are you certain this won't seem odd for me to wear?"

Robin considered this question for a long moment. At first he considered telling her it would likely draw mockery from people like those girls, but he quickly shoved that thought aside. He remembered how happy Lucina looked before and so he made up his mind. "It doesn't matter if others think it does or not. I just know you'll look beautiful in anything you pick out."

Lucina spun back to face him, her face turning an even brighter shade of pink at his remark. "I… uh…" she stammered staring at him.

At once Robin cursed himself. Why had he said that last part? Stupid, stupid, stupid. It had just slipped out. He hadn't-

No, he told himself. That was a lie. He'd meant it, even if he hadn't intended to say it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Robin tried to say. Liar. You meant it.

"N-No, it's quite alright. Lucina glanced up at the clock on the wall of the store, seeing the time.

"I'm sorry Robin, but I need to go. My shift starts soon," she excused herself, referring to one of her night jobs as a waitress. "I'll go check out. There is no need to wait around for me"

Not even waiting for a reply, Lucina started towards the register, only to then stop, looking back. "Oh, and Robin?" she asked, her words halting and awkward. "What you said means a lot, truly. So, thank you." She bowed her head and then hurried away.

Robin watched on for a moment, then departed the store, feeling thoroughly foolish and embarrassed by what he'd said. He decided to head home for the evening.

. . . . .

Laying down on the couch in his room, Robin flipped the page through the book he was reading. At the rate he was going, he likely wouldn't finish it that evening. It will take one more night still, he thought.

He sighed, letting the open book fall over his face, covering it. He still couldn't stop thinking about earlier… about what he'd said.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he scolded himself. Even if he'd been telling the truth, some things were better left unsaid. Even though Lucina had tried to brush it off, he was certain there would now be some new uneasiness between them. How could it not? He was living in the same house as her, and her father was his guardian for the year. Revealing how he felt, even so indirectly, could only make things more awkward…

His phone vibrated once, buzzing on the coffee-table. Lifting the book from his face, he glanced over, seeing the blinking light indicating a new message. He reached for it, then hesitated. Working up all of his considerable courage, he snatched it up and swiped the screen.

It was a message from Lucina.

"ROBIN. THANK YOU FOR SPENDING TIME WITH ME TODAY. I WOULD LOVE TO DO IT AGAIN WHEN NEXT YOU HAVE TIME."

Robin starred, rereading the message again and again, certain he'd understood it incorrectly.

She… wants to spend more time with me?! Even after I… He shook his head, unable to comprehend what was going on. Could she possibly feel like- No, that would be silly. She just wants to keep spending time as friends? Right? That's it. Unless- No, stop! Bad Robin!

Robin groaned, tossing his phone aside and again hiding his face in the book. Dammnit, this just makes things even more confusing...

He decided to stop reading and go to bed for the night.

[shwazzberryswriting]

Queen of the Grind

Pairing: Jungwoo x Original Female Character|Reader

Genre: Meet-Cute, Fluff, AU - Pro Skater Taeyong

Word count: 1.9k

Rating/Warnings: No Rating/Jungwoo gets hurt at one point but nothing serious outside of a few scrapes

Prompt: *Must be about Jungwoo *Use these words (random word generator): -judgement -therapist -benefit

Author’s Note: When I was trying to think of what to write with this prompt, an image of Jungwoo flirting with a skater really took off in my head so this is the result. Thanks for reading!

---------

    “Please, Queen of the Grind, can I skate here?” Taeyong asked in a defeated tone, running his hand through his neon blue colored hair. He squinted his eyes as he took his sunglasses off, the rays from the morning sun blinding him for a moment.

    He stopped in his tracks as a woman stood beside the entrance gate at Westchester Skate Plaza, her arms crossed over her chest. He was at the mercy of the girl he’d dumped in middle school. Keona was standing before him, stone faced. Her lip ring had a diamond stud in it that dangled at the corner of her bottom left lip, and she’d grown her hair long enough to have a thick braid down her back.

    “We don’t do things like that anymore,” she replied, her violet colored lips breaking out into a smile. “No judgment, all love. I’m excited to see you!”

    He gave a relieved smile. “Distance does make the heart grow fonder.”

    They hugged each other, and he picked her up into his arms as he spun her around for a few moments. Despite having not seen each other for half a decade, Keona and Taeyong interacted like siblings, teasing each other all the while laughing together.

    “Is it true that you’re the biggest deal in Asia? Or just in Japan?”

    “I’m a big deal in Korea!” he said, shoving her hand away since she’d begun to pinch his cheek. “Let’s not talk business? I want to skate. I miss LA.”

    “Taeyong!” a guy Keona had never seen before shouted as he ran over to the entrance with a couple skateboards in his arms. He was tall with long limbs, and a bright smile that radiated with warmth.

    “Your assistant?” she asked Taeyong.

    “My friend.” Taeyong threw his neon green sunglasses on and began stretching.

    “On flow?”

    She did jumping jacks before copying Taeyong’s stretches. He looked like he had picked up on some good stretches, like an actual pro. She groaned as she stretched her arms out and felt her shoulder blades cracking and popping.

    “He’s a newbie. Fast learner.”

    “His limbs probably go flying everywhere.”

    Taeyong’s friend turned his head over to look at her, and gave her a gentle smile. He tilted his head before breaking eye contact to turn his head over to watch the group of middle school age skaters nearby working on their kickflips. She grinned as he began cheering the skaters on by shouting, “Yeah!” when one of the kids landed a perfect kickflip.

    “He’s really taken a liking to it.”

    “Taeyong!” his friend called out his name again as he approached them. “Are we going to meet your Cutie Pie?”

    “Cutie Pie?” Keona laughed. Taeyong gave a guffaw, rushing over to ruffle his friend’s light brown hair. His friend smiled, and glanced at Keona, his big brown eyes and slightly vacant expression reminded her of a puppy.

    “Keona,” Taeyong said, throwing his arm over her shoulder, “this is Jungwoo. Jungwoo, this is Keona. She is not named Cutie Pie.”

    “I’m so happy to meet you,” Jungwoo said to Keona. “Taeyong said you knew all the best spots when you were kids.”

    “Honestly, we only found out about the good skate spots because Taeyong was so good.”

    “She was grinding rails all the time!” Taeyong threw out, grabbing his board and riding off to the half pipe. “You’ll benefit from hanging out with Keona! Teach him how to ollie, Ke!”

    This wasn’t the first time Taeyong had found a new student for Keona to take under her wing. She didn’t mind it, but she did wish he’d give her a head’s up. Jungwoo seemed comfortable as they walked together.

    “Jungwoo, you can’t ollie?”

    “I did it once,” he replied, suddenly looking shy as he avoided her eye contact. His voice had turned a little soft. “The fall hurt too much. I’ll never do it again.”

    Keona got on her board and watched Jungwoo skate. He had good control as he glided around obstacles with ease. He didn’t do many tricks but riding on a board seemed enough for him. He built up speed and greeted people as he rode past them. She went along with him, not too bothered about turning their hangout into a training lesson. As they approached some teens working on grinding onto a ledge, Keona cheered them on.

    “Great build up, Sulia!” She clapped as the 17-year-old jumped with her board to slide it onto a ledge. Sulia’s landing was a little rough and she slipped off her board. She jumped aside to avoid falling and hurting herself. Her friends cheered and encouraged her to give it another go. Jungwoo and Keona joined in on the clapping before skating past the teens. She jumped in the air with her board, showing off a basic ollie trick.

    “Are you sure you don’t want to learn how to ollie?” she asked.

    She looked over her shoulder to see Jungwoo brushing his hair out of his eyes. He tried mimicking her by kicking down on the nose of his board with his back leg to help catapult the board into the air, but failed his landing. He fell forward as his board slid away from him. Keona stepped off her board, and walked over to help Jungwoo up.

    “Let me clean up your hands,” she said immediately.

    Both of his palms were skinned with bits of rubble digging deep enough to draw blood and he groaned. He winced as he stood up straight. She made no comment at his cheeks flushing pink, and instead asked him if he wanted to go to 7-11 for slushie and nachos. He seemed incapable of speaking, and she patted his arm as they sat down on the blue plastic picnic table under the shade of a large palm tree.

    “I busted my knee open and I had to hobble around for about 2 weeks the first time I tried to ollie,” she said, carefully removing the loose rubble and cleaning Jungwoo’s palms with a Wet Wipe. “If you want to see, I still have a scar on my left knee. I also learned that day that I need to carry a First Aid Kit with me at all times. I’m always like the first person to help people clean up their injuries. Last week there was a group of kids who all kept scraping their knees and shins I almost ran out of bandaids.”

    She sprayed his palms with an antiseptic spray to help numb the pain and kill germs. Bending over slightly as she held his wrists in her hands, she blew onto his palms gently to speed up the drying. He cleared his throat and she glanced up to make eye contact with him. His lips were curved up slightly, and his eyes shifted down to her neck. She smiled to herself, feeling herself blush as she began ripping bandaids out of their package.

    “Do you think people get hurt just to get a moment to be with you?” he asked as she placed clear plastic bandaids over his cuts.

    She looked up at him, and returned the sweet smile he was giving her. His eyes seemed incapable of leaving her lips as he kept looking at her. If he wanted to flirt, she was down. She placed her legs on either side of the bench they were seated on, mirroring him, and slid forward closer to Jungwoo. Their knees touched, and he gave a soft, shy chuckle.

    “You want to hang out with just you and me?” she asked, throwing her arms over his shoulders, leaning forward so that her face was less than an inch away from his. “Let’s get some nachos.”

    Given that 7-11 was only a couple blocks away, they walked to 7-11 together, and got some of the cheap nachos with the hot melted cheese and lots of jalapeños. They were going to eat in the parking lot but Jungwoo saw a KFC nearby and asked to get some fried chicken.

    “Thank you for treating me to this food,” Jungwoo said as they sat next to each other at a booth in the KFC. He’d hooked a finger onto the belt loop of her jeans and tugged on it gently when she had tried to walk over to sit across from him.

    “I want to make sure you’re happy after that awful fall,” she said as she sidled closer to him. His finger still hooked onto her jeans indicated that she wasn’t close enough. Once her leg was pressed against his, he seemed satisfied and released her jeans.

    “This does make me feel better, thank you,” he said before taking a sip from his drink.

    “Allow me?” she offered, picking up a cheese covered chip and directing it to Jungwoo’s mouth. “I don’t want you to get your hands dirty. I’ll feed you.”

    “You’re taking such good care of me,” he said softly after she fed him a chicken tender.

    He kept tilting his head and changing up the ways he’d glance at her. Sometimes his eyes would go big and he’d smile brightly, but most times he was looking at her with his eyes half closed and smirked, like he had a few dirty secrets just on the tip of his tongue. He was waiting for the right time to reveal those dirty words.

    When they’d left the park, she’d been hungry, but she could barely drink her strawberry slushie sitting next to Jungwoo. Her insides were squirming around as he reached over and wiped the corners of her lips with a napkin.

    “You’ve barely eaten,” he said, taking note that her tray of nachos was still nearly full. “You should eat. It’s all very good.”

    She smiled as she blushed. It was sweet that he noticed that she hadn’t been eating. Though she struggled to have any sort of appetite, she ate most of her food since Jungwoo kept encouraging her to eat with him. She refused to let Jungwoo feed himself, but he didn’t seem to object much. They took their time eating, and talking.

    “So why did Taeyong dump you?” he asked when he was nearly finished with his fried chicken. She chuckled.

    “We were 12. I didn’t understand what it meant to have a boyfriend. All I knew was that Taeyong asked me to be his girlfriend, and I said yes. When I told him that he didn’t have to be my boyfriend to skate with me we agreed just to be friends. He likes stretching the truth.”

    “How come you didn’t go pro with him?”

    “I love to skate, but I always wanted to teach kids how to read and write so being a teacher’s always been my dream. Taeyong would sleep in the parks with his board in the summers. Skating has always been like Taeyong’s therapist, or something on that level. How did you become friends with Taeyong? Neither of you have told me.”

    “We did a campaign together for Nike.”

    “So are you an athlete or a model?”

    “Fashion model. Taeyong taught me how to skate during our shoot.”

    “And you’ve been skating since?”

    He nodded and gave her a side glance, the corner of his lips curving slightly. Feeling her cheeks turn warm, she took a sip of her slushie.

    Once they made it back to the park, Jungwoo threw his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder. They were seated next to each other, and she threw her hand up to touch his hair.

    “You’re so comfortable, Keona,” he said, rubbing his cheek against her shoulder.

    “Get too comfortable and you might not be able to let me go,” she warned before kissing his cheek. He laughed and she saw him blush before returning to rest his head on her shoulder.

[unholyhelbig]

Evergreen | Chapter Two

Summary: Beca Mitchell is a reporter that travels across the east coast. When scarlet fever begins to overtake much of the world, she’s forced to cover a story in one of the largest, newest, hospitals. She is soon captivated by the head nurse and then stolen by something more.[The Prequel to "What's Forever?"]

Read the series | Read Chapter One | Request prompts 

The scream sounded like a vase shattering against hardwood floor. It was so guttural and primal that Beca Mitchell believed with her entire body that it hadn’t sounded off in the first place. She was hazy from sleep, stiff from being propped up on the brick wall of her tiny room- a room she didn’t recognize at first. She hadn’t remembered falling asleep, but Emma was right, she had missed dinner.

She found herself yearning for a moment, for the floral chair that was always positioned in the corner of her room at home. It was draped with a fleece blanket and a sharp chill had settled over her room here. Her eyes wandered to the shadowed edge of the space now and she found nothing but a nasty crack dripping with rusted water.

That scream.

It made her jaw ache as it sounded again, over the hum of her own heartbeat. She had dozed off with her dip pen in her front pocket, the ink she had set up on the night table. It had leaked a spot that looked too much like Australia against the front of her pinstripe shirt. The button of her pants dug uncomfortably into her stomach as she scooted to the edge of the cot.

Evergreen Sanatorium, that’s where she had ended up. It had been so breathtakingly silent when they arrived like trained animals sat at the edges of their cages as Emma lead her down corridors. There wasn’t a sound to be had, but this one was so horrifying that it made the wallpaper curl.

She rushed to pull the faux gold watch from her front pocket. It popped open with a little click, the metal cooling against her sweaty palm. It almost burned with its starkness, but she licked her cracked lips and read the time. It was half-past two in the am.

Beca stood with much effort and slid the device back into her pocket her pants, ignoring the way the chain fell unevenly down the front of her slacks like uncombed hair. She crept silently to her door and flinched as it wailed like the source of the scream.

The hallway was still bathed in harsh neon lights, the fixtures humming above her like trapped flies. She glared at them for a moment, as if that would cease the buzz. It gave her nothing but spots to blink away as she peered down the corridor. It was empty, no one seemed to stir at the commotion.

She had pushed her boots off and left them by the cot, and thankfully so. Her socked feet made no noise as she tracked past the other closed doors that finally lead to the staircase. There was an echoed hacking bouncing off the walls, but that wasn’t the noise that disturbed her. It cut across the air once more, ending in a garbled crackling cough. It was coming from upstairs.

Beca gripped onto the railing as she walked up two full flights. Each floor was set up in the same way; unnaturally bright and deathly cold. Instead of living quarters, functioning rooms stretched to her left and her right. There was a reception desk at the top of the third floor. she squinted at the emptiness of the world.

There was an orderly, a dark-skinned man dressed in white linin slugging a mop across the tile. Beca let the breath caught in her chest pool in front of her as she pulled her shoulders back and walked towards him. The bucket that he used was muddy, and so was the water that he pushed around. There had been a stain the size of a notebook there before and he scrubbed toughly at the edges, dried and caked.

He glanced up, then down, and up again. He had pretty emerald eyes. “Ma’am?”

Beca suddenly didn’t know what to say. She was barefoot and quite disheveled and out of breath from her jog up to this level. And here was this orderly with a strong build and a kind smile with confused eyes. She hadn’t thought her way through anything. I’m the reporter from Chicago, what were those horrid screams?

“Ah, bathroom?”

He laughed dryly and leaned against the wooden stick of the mop like it was a crutch. His chin lifted towards a long hallway that jutted from the rest, and suddenly, if she did have to use the restroom, the prospect of venturing into the shadows deterred her. So did the scream that echoed once more, louder this time.

“Right, thank you-“ She frowned, holding her finger up as if to stop herself “What is that noise?”

“That would be Miss Mesa. She’s been a resident here longer than most. Likes to holler her head off until she gets somewhere with it. Usually, we can hold her off for a bit longer, but she’s unruly tonight.” He lifted his chiseled chin “You visiting family, Ma’am?”  

“No, I’m a reporter with Chicago Gazette.” The words felt like jelly in her mouth. She had never said them to a man before. It was easier with Emma, it was a part of her title and branded into her skin. But this was different somehow, this tore through her chest in a flutter of disbelief.

“In that case, apologies for the disturbance. Anything else I can help you with? Other than directions.”

She scoffed “What’s your name?”

“Ian Atkins Ma’am, the best damn orderly in this place. Just don’t’ say that to any of the other ones or they’ll try to prove me wrong, that will get them to work a hell of a lot harder.”

Beca decided that she liked Ian. He had bags under his eyes, the deep green pools reflecting the awful checkered pattern of the floor. But he worked through it and she found that admirable enough. She smiled and relished the lemon cleaner that burned her lungs.

“I'm Beca,” She offered, narrowing her eyes “This Miss Mesa, how long exactly has she been here?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and leaned into the stick of the mop a little more. “Well, that depends, I’ve been here for a few months now and that rooms always been occupied by her shouting. She’s a bit of a legend around here, suppose.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, you ain’t hear this from me, but some of the lower staff have bets on when she’s goin’ to croak. There’s a money pot in the back. But the more religious of us believe that even when she does bite the dust, she won’t go far. You’ve heard her yell, that’s not something stopped by death.”

Beca hummed for a moment and stared down the stretch of hallway. Ian looked like the only spirit here. The mop squelched under his weight, its water a dark color that was akin to blood. If she didn’t need to use the bathroom before, her midsection ached as if it had to now.

“Religious, are we?”

“Not all of us, no.” He shook his head, kicking dumbly at the dingy yellow bucket “When you live in a place like this it’s easier to cling to the idea of something, suppose. Some of us prefer logic, but there’s a temple in the basement if you’re inclined.”

She wasn’t, not in the slightest. She wished she wasn’t blinking away sleep or the raw feeling in her bones. She should have brought up her journal, something to pull bytes from. She would shield his name from the public- no one with sense listens to an orderly, but lucky for Beca Mitchell, she didn’t have much, to begin with.

Beca fished into her front pocket, still soaked with ink, and produced a folded five-dollar bill. It was damp from her own sweat, or maybe the coolness of the weather. She clamped it between two fingers and held it out “Five on her not making it until I leave.”

Ian eyed it apprehensively for a moment before that dazzling smile cut through his expression. He grabbed and unfolded it, letting it snap like a wet towel in a locker room. “It’s a bet, Beca.”

“What’s a bet?”

A certain blush of color rushed to Ivan’s cheeks. It was painstakingly visible under the fluorescents. He stopped leaning on the stick of the mop like a vice and pushed its soaked base around. Beca stiffened at the sound of authority in the stranger's voice. This wasn’t Emma, and by the sharp tone, it wasn’t a patient either.

“Nothing, Miss Beale, the new kid and I were just discussin’ a few things.” He cleared his throat.

Beca let her shoulders drop as she turned to face the woman. Her lungs contracted and suddenly she felt like no amount of water, or liquor, in the world would quench her thirst. Even in the light of the harsh overheads, the woman held a certain archaic beauty to her; a painting that was left unfinished by just one stroke of a brush, a pencil drawing smeared by the palm of the hand.

Her hair was like fire, or the sun bouncing off of a large body of water. It flowed around her shoulders and stood out magnificently against the mint green undershirt that was hidden by a nurse's apron. She wore the same shoes Emma did, and Beca realized at that moment that they were impossibly quiet and that she had been staring, open-mouthed, for two long.

“You’re the head nurse?” She took note of the name. “I wasn’t expecting…”

The woman narrowed her eyes “No, go on, finish your sentence.”  

“Someone so young.”

“Right, well, someone as young as me also isn’t as daft as one would think. I don’t take kindly to my staff betting on the mortality rate of my patients. You seem well seasoned, I figured you would know that.”

Beca felt like she had been punched in the gut. The only thing worse than doing a bad thing was getting caught doing a bad thing. Emma had said that the nurses wouldn’t take to her in any capacity. But Nurse Beale’s hostility made her skin prickle. She was taken aback by the insult and even more by the beauty of the mouth spouting it.

The nurse must have sensed this, she lifted her chin, tone softer as she walked towards the stairs “Follow me.”

The reporter gaped for a few moments before dashing off behind the woman. She gave Ian a half-decent goodbye first. She pretended vaguely to not be out of breath. Nurse Beale was fast, and mean, and damned attractive.

“Not even an hour here and I’m being taken to the principal’s office.”

“I’m not in charge.”

“Sure act like it.”

She stopped abruptly. Beca was shorter than her and walking faster, her shoulder hitting the other woman’s. The nurse was cold, not just in demeanor, but by the touch of a hand. Beca felt every inch of hair raise as her breath caught. She smelled metallic and hot like the base of a tea kettle.

“While you’re in Evergreen, Miss Mitchell, there is a certain code of conduct that is to be followed.”

Beca swallowed hard, “Which is?”

“Respect,” She drew out the word like the long edge of a blade “The staff respects me, and I mind Emma. But when Emma isn’t around.”

“You’re the one to follow,” Beca nodded slowly.

“Right. And I don’t much appreciate you snooping through the halls at night. Not for a puff piece.”

Beca let out a laugh that might have been too loud and nervous for the situation, but she didn’t care. Her cheeks here hot and her fingers were twitching, and the woman in front of her was dragging her stare up and down her body.

“A Puff piece? This is going to be the story of the year.”

“Quite cocky for a woman.” Beca frowned and the woman held up a hand “Mind yourself, Miss Mitchell. You know where your quarters are. I suggest you find your way back to them.”

The woman walked briskly past the staircase and through a set of doors that were labeled in big red letters. Off-limits. Beca watched as she vanished. She stood at the top of the staircase for a few moments, fingers trying to rub some feeling back into the place where her arm brushed with the head nurse.  

[sahbibabe]

Hi! Can I request some headcanons for Crisis core Sephiroth where his fem s!o tries to comfort him and try to keep his emotional state together by telling him that he is human and a good one at that, when he finds out about his birth? I would like it to be fluff but you can make it out to be how you think Sephiroth would actually react? Thanks!

Oh, totally, hon! I'm super down for Sephiroth fluff, especially towards the incident that incited all of this in the first place! This got out of hand but I hope you enjoyed it! ♡

Sephiroth Headcanons

When he first discovers the truth of his origins, it's with a smidge of doubt in his mind--how could he go so long in life without figuring it out on his own? Either he was being lied to or it was just that: the truth. And the truth hurts.

Once he realizes that a lot of his life has never made sense--the mysterious lack of struggle, the bizarre circumstances that had made him into a SOLDIER--he knows that he's not human. He's even less than that, a half breed made in a test tube and released on the world as an experiment.

He doubts his friends, if he could even call them that now. Did they know? Did they befriend him purposely to get closer to him, to chart his reactions and emotional aptitude for Hojo? He doesn't know, doesn't want to ask them either, or if they didn't know, they would certainly know when he eventually did ask.

His options limited, he returns to a place where he knows he is welcomed, is safe: your arms. He had never taken you up on the offer to drop by during his lunch break--which was when all of this had been dropped on him--and spend some time with you while he wasn't busy.

He stopped just shy of your apartment door, fist hovering over the metal door hesitantly. Would you hate him, as well? Would you see him as less than human, like he saw himself? Would you sneer at him in disgust and turn him away? Would you shout at him, scream at him in terror? Thousands of possibilities ran through his mind. Combined with the new knowledge that he was a spawn of Jenova, he was an absolute storm cloud of anger and troubled thoughts, and it showed on his face.

He allowed himself to knock, ready to have the door slammed in his face and return to his quarters at Shinra--did he even want to?--and heard your bright, panicked call of,"Coming! Just hold on!"

When you jerked the door open, smelling faintly of tomato sauce and basil, as if you had been cooking, you turned that thousand watt smile on him. It made his heart--if that even was what it was anymore--hurt that you would eventually come to your senses once he told you what he truly was.

"Seph!" You chirped happily, his nickname like a sledgehammer over his head. You grabbed his arm gently and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind you. "I was just making some spaghetti. Would you like some?"

He didn't think he could stomach food right now. His nerves were shot like frayed wires. "No thank you. I'm fine."

You paused, pretty [color] eyes dancing over his face. Ignoring the steady beeping of your stove top, you reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, smoothing out the tight muscles of his jaw. "What is it? Did something happen?"

He hated that you were so perceptive of his moods and tics, for once. He had wanted you to be oblivious, to leave him and finish cooking and return, and proceed to become sickened by his very existence.

"Nothing." He reached up and covered your hand with his own, squeezing your fingers softly. "Go and finish your food. I think it's burning."

It wasn't, but you knew a redirect when you saw one. He didn't want to talk about it just yet. His eyes, those gorgeous green-blue orbs, were unfocused, hazy with emotional pain and trauma. You had only seen him like this once before, when you had been hurt badly during Sector Six's plate crashing down. Since then you had been living in Sector One, safe from falling plates, but that hadn't stopped him from pulling out all the stops to keep you safe.

"Alright," you sighed, patting his chest comfortingly. You wouldn't push it. "Why don't you wait on the couch? I'll be done as soon as I get the noodles out."

He nodded almost imperceptibly. You smiled at him and returned to the stove top, humming as you brought a pot of water to a boil and dumped your pasta noodles in.

While he waited, he tried to organize his thoughts, moving to stand over near the balcony. You had wanted to be at least in sight of the reactors, claiming that the bright color reminded you of his eyes. That night had been when you were in the hospital, drugged up and as high as a kite, holding his hand and letting your mouth run miles a minute.

You, fortunately, remembered none of it, but he did. He kept a few of those remarks close to his heart, even if you weren't entirely there when you said them. Things like,"You're such a sweetheart, I could just suffocate you with my love," or the one that had the nurse laughing,"Hey, Seph, I totally need you to marry me so we can make little super babies. Please?"

The thought of children immediately made his somewhat lifted mood drop. Children. If you had children, they would never be completely human. They would be some part of Jenova--or Cetra, or whatever he was--a mismatch of different genetics. What if they came out with red eyes? Blue skin? Pale hair?

In the midst of his dark mood and thoughts, you returned, gently placing a bowl of spaghetti out for him even though he hadn't wanted any. You waved him over to sit beside you, a giant smile on your face.

When he sat down and it wasn't beside you, but at as an uncomfortable distance as he possibly could manage, your smile faded into a frown of concern. "Sephiroth? What is it?"

He was quiet for a few moments, running different situations through his head, but eventually decided to rip the bandaid off before he got too used to it. He couldn't stand seeing you there, oblivious to what he was and under a false pretense that he was a human. He was a monster and you deserved to know.

"I'm not human."

You listened with wide eyes as he began explaining what he had found, where he had heard it from, and that it was true: his test results, his blood, even his organs were different at least on a molecular level. You had put down your bowl of spaghetti at least an hour ago, absorbed in his story, and hesitated in going to him. In comforting him. What if he didn't want it?

He took your hesitation as something else. "I'll go now. I understand if you wouldn't want to be with a monster."

You sputtered, eyebrows drawing into angry furrows as he stood up and walked towards the door. You grabbed a fist full of the black straps keeping his armor on and hauled him back with as much strength as you could muster. He stumbled back, surprised, and you gripped his face between both of your hands.

"You're not a monster, Sephiroth. You're as human as anyone in this city." You could see the doubt in his eyes, the hardness that you had come to relate with him walling himself off. You pressed your forehead to his, noses barely touching. "No, you're more than human. You're one of the best humans I've ever had in my life. You laugh. You cry; I've seen you in your sleep. Monsters don't cry, honey. And... you love me, don't you? Monsters can't love. And I love you. It doesn't matter that you were made in a lab. What does matter is that you ended up here, with me, in a world that loves you. Everything else is just semantics."

He watched as you continued your passion fueled speech, face turning red with exertion, and he didn't know why he had been so worried about you hating him before. How could someone who was spilling their heart out before him hate him, knowing the truth of what he was?

"And Hojo can burn in the depths of hell for all I care! Who does that?! Holds a man's origins from him and tells him everything he's ever known is a lie?! Actually, you know what, give me your keycard!" You fumed, fumbling for his lapel where he kept his Shinra access card. "I'm going to give that asshole an ass kicking he'll never see coming!"

"[Name]," Sephiroth rumbled, his voice soft. You paused, looking up into his eyes, and found that the self hatred and doubt was subdued, buried under the shining beacon that you could only say was appreciation. "Thank you."

"What for?" You asked, a giant red blush creeping up your neck and face, redder than the one that had formed in your tirade. "I'm just telling you what I know to be true. Forget Hojo's truth. You can use mine."

Before he could properly say that he loved you, your stomach growled. You groaned and buried your face in his neck in shame. "We can talk about this later. You need to eat."

You moved your head and rolled your eyes so he could see, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before releasing the tight grip you had on his leather straps. "Come on. I'll eat and then we can spend the next few days together. No Shinra stuff."

"No Shinra stuff," he agreed.

When you had finished eating and the sun lamps had dimmed, you tugged him towards your room, divesting him of his armor, citing,"Armor isn't good for cuddling, Seph, you know."

In the middle of the night, when you had fallen asleep in his arms after making sure to tell him everything you loved about him that made him human, punctuated by kisses to his face or lips or whatever you could reach, he watched your eyebrows furrow as you dreamed.

You had enough humanity for the both of you, he decided, closing his eyes to the neon glow of the mako reactor. That was enough for him.

It had to be.

[toysoldiers-rwby]

[CS] 6. Conflict

Cutting Strings

Characters: Team APCX, Winter Word Count: 7k

Somethings never change. Even if it’s new to Penny.

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  Error: Enemy Unknown  

Neon’s frustrated voice rang around the Gym. “Reese! She closed shop to help you and Nadir study!”  

“Yeah but Aro can be really scary!” Reese argued. “We still have like two weeks till Haven officially starts…”  

Penny slowly tunned their voices out. Ciel and Penny arrived 30 minutes ago. May was there again and she challenged Ciel to a sparring match. Ciel declined, her shift was about to start but Neon begged her for the hours. Neon’s reasoning that training with a Huntress was more valuable than lien convinced Ciel.  

Penny joined their warm-ups to burn some excess energy her upset Aura was generating. It helped a little but it would take a real fight to exhaust her. Then she spent five minutes of watching the Huntress play around with the officer-in-training and an unknown amount of time slumped against the table drawing aimless shapes on the wood as little Billy tried to ram into her finger.  

Another discovery Penny had made was that she needed a routine. Previously her days was scheduled to optimize both her father and Ironwood’s time. But now that she was free to explore Atlas- and Mantle as long as Ironwood doesn’t know, she had to make her own schedule. This past week she’d work on Billy, the now fully repaired miniature robotic goat with limited functionality! At night she’d visit Ciel and they’d relax at the Officer’s Gym.  

But tonight was a little different. Xanthic had finished her assignment from Ironwood… Then Winter escorted her back to her quarters. Four hours ahead of routine. She didn’t argue or fight, just stared at Winter and Penny…  

“Oh!” Penny gasped. Billy had determined her nose as new challenger and rammed into her. She giggled and picked him up, “Alright, Billy. It’s bed time.” She said. Pushing aside the cover on his back she pressed the sleep button. Billy’s charge slowed to a trot and eventually a complete stop. His head shook, metal ears stiff in the air when they should be flopping around. Tinny rubber hooves dug into Penny’s hand so lightly her sensors didn’t recognize it.  

Winter didn’t need to isolate Xanthic. They could have worked on this little robot together. She wanted to have it updated to perform simple tricks and vocal commands. Penny was curious to see her Father and Aro’s reaction.  

“That’s so cute I think I have cavities,” May muttered. She grunted as Ciel finally got a punch in. “You little!” May practically growled. She feinted a jab then dove in a low tackle. Ciel’s back slammed into the mat as her legs were pulled out from under her. Once taken to the mat, Ciel was quickly put in a lock and forced to tap out.  

Ciel lay there, exhausted and breathing hard while May barely broke a sweat and effortlessly jumped to her feet. “Huntresses are insane…”  

“We are superheroes!” May said with a large smile. It faltered slightly when Penny couldn’t match that energy. “Something biting at you Penn?” Penny tilted her head and looked around. Her false skin wasn’t sensitive so if something was biting her she didn’t feel or see it. May laughed and shook her head. “What’s on your mind? You’ve been acting sad all evening…” Her voice drifted off, posture completely slacking. She thickly swallowed and that definitely triggered Penny’s interest.  

Before Penny could turn around a pale green hair flew past her. Aro stood a few feet from May. She was grinning, ears to excited to stay hidden and fluttering up and down. She had an excited bounce and tiny flaps of her arms-  

“Aro!” Penny’s mind nearly shorted. There might have been several warnings about velocity and weight but all that was registering was her friend was finally back. Her processors fired several simulations about how easier the week would have been if Aro was there to smooth conflicts or to infect her with her cheery attitude.  

“Hi Penn!” Aro yelled back, grunting as the women tackled her. They didn’t fall to the ground but floated long enough for Aro to get her footing again. Penny was hugged tight. That comforting feeling of pressure back in greater force. Penny giggled burying her face into her future teammate’s shoulder. She wanted to go back to the drinks with Winter and May or even the trails General started her with. She was built for the stress of combat not… whatever she was feeling righ tow. Aro set Penny down and looked at May again. Her grin was bigger, undeterred by May’s indifferent, almost glaring expression. “Hi.”  

“Salutations,” May drawled, voice dead and voice of any emotion. She crossed her arms and waited for Aro’s energy to calm a little. It had the opposite effect and she only squeezed Penny tighter. Penny giggled as Faunus ears tickled her fake ones. Apparently they were sensitive and sent a Morse code of sensation confusing her processors. May sighed at the cute display, “I’m still mad at you.”  

“I deserve it,” Aro said only a hint of seldom and guilt in her voice. “I know it’s not showing now- I really missed you.”  

A blush flashed across May’s face for a second. The Huntress groaned slapping her head. Then held her arms open and Aro jumped into them. Arms wrapped around her neck and face buried into the crook of her shoulder and neck.  

“I hate you sometimes.”  

“Sometimes I deserve it,” Aro said.  

Penny giggled from the side. If this was how they resolved their conflicts how did they end up fighting in the first place?  

“Ugh. Get a room,” Ciel groaned from the floor. Aro snorted. She separated from from May and threw her head back laughing. It shamelessly echoed around the basement.  

It was then she understood why May paused, so surprised. Aro wasn’t dressed in her boiler-suit, wasn’t covered in grease. Sweat, or Dust. Penny knew Aro own a successful weapon and Dust shop. But it was difficult to actually see her as a businesswomen.  

Her high class suit rivaled Winter’s casual outfits. Penny’s eyes were particularly drawn to the pin on her tie and collar. Aro’s dull eyes were framed by glasses… May caught her staring and smirked. Penny flustered, a surge of Aura generating too much heat. While she couldn’t blush Penny felt it the hot air rise to her face and she huffed out cloud of steam.  

Aro stomped on the floor, a bright glow of purple slowly levitating Ciel up. The student was floundering. Her legs kicked out wildly for footing only to be upside down. Penny wasn’t fond of the sensation either, so she quickly helped Ciel upright. Aro gently turned off the Dust. Ciel looked more disheveled by the gravity Dust than the sparing.  

“Never. Again.” The officer-in-training said, as if the order would stick with the anarchist.  

“No promises,” Aro sang. She looked at May with a guilty and open expression. “I was waiting for Xanthic’s okay to come back.” May’s quick temper flared again. A fierce scowl and a trembling fist instantly set Penny on alert. She took a deep breath. She’s spent more time with Ciel and May these past few days and trusted that peaceful experience rather than her sensitive protocols. It was a little slow, but May slowly relaxed and nodded at Aro to continue. “A mutual contact told me Xanthic disappeared.”  

Penny frowned. That was… true? She pushed her processors trying to analysis the situation from a different perspective. It was difficult, trying to think of false information and incorrect functions. Chances were high only the Ace-Ops and Winter knew about Xanthic’s whereabouts. The hacker was taken by surprised, so she couldn’t call for help. Did she even have anyone that would help her?  

May frowned and crossed her arms. Penny didn’t know if she was pleased or alerted, that indifferent mask was on her face again. She liked the smile better.  

“Since when were you and Xanthic talking?”  

Aro made sure to hold eye contact with May. Her dull eyes were sincere… and not glowing! Her semblance was off! Aro’s entire energy seemed a little muted but much more earnest, “Almost two weeks. Since she found out Ironwood is trying to puppet us.” May closed her eyes, fighting off another outburst. She took a deep breath. Penny added a reminder to ask Aro about her history with Xanthic. Judging from May’s expression it wasn’t good.  

“I want to punch you in the face.”  

Aro didn’t even flinch at that but Penny did. Was… this common? Is this how friends behaved? “I deserve it, but we need to find Xanthic first.” May visibly blanch and deflate.  

“I know her current location,” Penny said. Her voice sounded too seldom but. She was oddly worried about a women that was far too aggressive. Somewhere deep in her programming told Penny it didn’t matter. “She’s under house arrest at the my father’s Facility. Are we helping her escape?” She asked quietly.  

“Depends,” May said quickly and harshly, “Does she really need saving?”  

“I think so,” Penny said. She hadn’t notice it at first because Xanthic was working but General Ironwood had placed her in near complete isolation. Alone, no socialization, no freedom… “Kidnapping. Isolation. Forced Labor. Forgery.” She listed, flinching at each word. She was sure General Ironwood had a good reason, but was also understanding Xanthic’s precautions. May and Aro didn’t seem surprised at the list but Ciel was deeply skeptical and glared harder at every word.  

“Kidnapping. Don’t you mean arrested?” Ciel asked. “She was guilty of hacking Atlas’ system!”  

“Then she would be in prison, not a military research facility.” Penny reasoned. They had to return Xanthic’s home to bring necessities Atlas provided in prisons. She still didn’t know if she enjoyed Xanthic’s company but it often lead to Winter assisting her. Seeing her almost made the fights between them worth it. “Ms. Xanthic is crass, aggressive, and enjoys challenging authority.” Ciel stared hard while May and Aro nodded. They both looked like they wanted to add more but refrained from doing so. “She was oddly compliant and docile with Winter today.”  

Aro popped her lip, brows raised high. “Isolation… with Win?” She asked slowly. She looked at May with a pleading stare, “You know Xan doesn’t handle both of those things well.”  

“If she doesn’t want to be lonely she should try being nice!” May said. Aro snapped her jaw shut. Her semblance must be active again because the usual bright blue glow returned, pupils flaring white. “I like you better with Focus off.”  

“And I’d like your support.” Aro snipped back. “You don’t need to help but I’m not letting Ironwood get away with this.”  

“Breaks people!” Ciel yelled. "We are not infiltrating a military facility."  

Aro smirked arms crossed in a way that strained her suit across her large arms and shoulders. “Infiltrate? You do realize you’re talking to a businesswomen.” She gestured to her suit. This time Penny caught May admiring it, a bit reluctantly. The Huntress huffed, trying to act frustrated rather than flustered. Penny giggled at the bravado.  

They took the elevator up to the roof where Aro had parked her airship. Two more Huntresses sat atop of it and one jumped down when they saw the group.  

“Salutation!” Penny didn’t instantly recognize the voice so she wasn’t Atlesian Military. The distinctive Faunus ears and excellent record identified her as Fiona Thyme. She grinned running up to Penny and shoving May aside even though she had her arms open for a hug. Her partner Robyn Hill, laughed so hard she almost fell off the airship on her descent. Fiona grabbed Penny’s hand and shook it, “I’m Fiona, it’s a pleasure to finally met you!” She said. “Aro and May are constantly talking about you.”  

Penny gave Aro a curious glance and she simply raised a brow. Her eyes flickered before she talked in a voice that was too smooth and perfect, “She’s lying.” The liar said. Penny and Fiona glanced at each other a knowing look and shared a giggle.  

“It is a pleasure to meet you too!” Penny grinned, “I have to admit it’s nice not having to look up so much…” Ciel and Fiona was around her height. Aro was surprisingly short when she stood next to May and Winter. It was her horns brought them closer to height.  

“Right?! These assholes should treat us to a good chiropractor.” Fiona covered her mouth as if she was whispering, but Penny was sure she purposely increased her volume.  

“You brat!” May grumbled picking Fiona up and throwing tiny Huntress over her shoulder. Fiona only laughed and playfully tried to break free. Ciel looked hesitant but followed Penny into their future teammates’ transport. The inside looked like a luxury cruiser, two sofas pointed at an entertainment system with a hard-light table disappearing from the center. The rather happy group of huntresses already took a sofa catching up on this week’s events.  

“Someone actually tried to mug us in Vacuo,” Robyn said. “Aro accidentally drew blood and then fainted on the spot!”  

May rolled her eyes, “Dressed like that and in this airship? I’m surprised you didn’t get shot down.”  

“With what artillery?” Fiona asked.  

Ciel made her way to the front. She didn’t take a seat on the sofa but hovered at the cockpit door. Penny decided occupy the co-pilot seat next to her future-teammate.  

“You two are idiots.” Ciel said with a sigh. “You’re actually going to talk him into releasing a dangerous criminal?”  

“You sure you trust an idiot to fly an airship?” Aro said with a large grin up at her. Ciel frowned. She didn’t look nervous and didn’t look at the door. After a few seconds Aro finally lifted her personalized transport off the building.  

“Aro has one of the best records for nonmilitary pilots!” Penny informed. That seemed to eased Ciel but she didn’t sit down.  

The ride was short and easy, so Aro entertained herself by giving Ciel a brief overview of the console. It didn’t match any specs that Penny knew so she suspected she personally built it. As they finally reached the floating city Atlas Command tried directed Aro to dock at the Academy. The ships audio-to-text was instantanious and the hard-light words hovered above the dash. Aro weighed her options. But with one looked at Penny, she confidentely veered off course.  

“Actually I think Dr. Pietro is holding something important for me.” Aro said. May loudly gagged, then grunting in pain as two loud smacks stopped her.  

“M-Ms. Glade!” The military personal stuttered.  

“Very confidential,” Aro said drawling out the words with a grin. “I was his protégée, I still help every now and again. You know how it goes.”  

“General Ironwood-” Aro turned off the speech-to-text. Penny remembered where the volume was and turned that down for everyone else.  

Before Ciel could scold her, they finally sored above the smog and factory smoke. For a second, Ciel looked amazed. Then it was replaced by scowl. Penny spent enough time with her to recognize that analytical look. Her eyes darting from bright tower to hard-light banners and even the robots that waited patiently for their owners. Penny flinched.  

“Wow.” Ciel scoffed. “So much for hard-light Dust being rare. One percent of the excess funds here could help the hospitals and miners- Ugh.”  

“Welcome to the Atlas sucks club!” May cheered from the back. Penny frowned. Was it really that bad? “Hard to see the bullshit they are pulling from below.”  

Aro landed the ship on the roof and Penny’s Scroll granted the group access. Ciel tried to talk her way into staying on the ship but Aro and Penny convinced her not to. She would be alone, technically trespassing on Military property.  

“It’s best if you stay with me,” Aro said. Her tone was a little different. Leveled and practiced in a way that reminded Penny of Winter. Then her sensors picked up on something, or rather the lack of noise. Penny glanced at the back to see the Huntresses looking uneasy. Aro only smiled and laughed, “I’m a pretty good distraction.”  

“Hm. For the record I was kidnapped,” Ciel muttered.  

“Records Xanthic is able and willing to alter,” Penny reminded.  

When the elevator opened to the main floor, General Ironwood and a small entourage was awaiting for them. Specialist Winter stood, poised like a soldier but lacking any real conviction. She nearly broke rank when she saw Penny. Her eyes locked on to hers far too long and Penny could only smile back. She hoped it was comforting because it felt sad. Almost guilty. Vine Zeki and Marrow Armin stood behind her. Vine was the only real image of an Atlesian soldier, Marrow looked conflicted, tail almost between his legs.  

These operatives were ideal for crowd control.  

If a fight broke out, the battle would hinge on Marrow’s Stay and Ciel’s Clockwork, perhaps even Aro’s Dust abilities. He was a newest Ace-Ops member so statistics was still off, in theory he could Stay a group. But one of this size as well as three Huntresses would be a challenge. Penny would be able to fight off Winter’s summons- Penny shook her head. She should not be strategizing against the military.  

“Welcome back, Ms. Glade.” General Ironwood greeted. His tone was as cold and welcoming as the steel they stood on.  

Aro on the other hand kept her playful persona, “You didn’t even bring my favorites,” Aro said with a small pout. Once again her voice was too perfect, too smooth and at ease. Her eyes seemed to shine brighter, “Where’s Hare and Oak?”  

“Standby with Clover,” Ironwood said. He stood aside and waved his arms. A silent permission for the group to enter and an order to follow. Robyn and her team scowled but followed Aro’s lead. Flanking her, as if they were guards.  

Winter broke rank, strides placing her next to Penny. She didn’t speak, instead giving Penny a concerned look then a questioning glance at Ciel, who didn’t look very pleased. The possibility of a fight breaking out was… low. Ideally. The human variable was very unpreditable, and Aro seemed to be the largest unknown factor. Perhaps kidnapped wasn’t too extreme.  

“Congrats Marrow!” Aro said, “I had a bet with Joanna and May about when you’d get accepted into the Ace-Ops. I won.”  

“Thanks! I-” Marrow was cut off by a pointed look from Vine. “I’m not allowed to be polite apparently.” He said with a pout. His tail curled down and arms folded across his chest.  

"I don’t quite understand it either. I feel like the silence is meant to rile us up." Aro said. Despite her smooth and easy going voice the soldiers seemed to flinch. General Ironwood increased his pace and no one stopped any further conversation.  

Marrow excitedly told her about a search and destroy mission of a Geist that plagued a few SDC transports. It was particularly fond of taking over machinery. Aro talked about the crime rates in Vale, how Dust theft is increasing the demands for Dust. During her week long trip she made several contracts for the Abyssal Dust Company that would give her a small lead over the SDC.  

“Sounds like Vale needs help,” Marrow frowned.  

“They do,” Robyn agreed, “I still have a few connections from my cop days. We helped a few investigations and the scale of this thing could mean a huge gang war.”  

“But Vale isn’t known for those types of conflicts,” May muttered.  

“I still think they’re shipping it to Vacuo.” Fiona added.  

“Their history of violence and such little resources would mean they’d need outside help.” Vine agreed.  

Aro was right. The small talk did easy tensions a little. They were all Huntresses and Huntsmen after all, their duty was to protect the people, and they easily talked about Vale’s situation for the duration of the walk. But Ironwood only grew tense. His posture grew stiff, walking more like a march.  

Then Penny notice Winter fell back, nudging May’s arm and giving a questioning look. May’s hands and fingers moved, face quickly changing from expression to expression. Penny realized she was signing when Winter did a gesture and May repeated the motions a little slower. Whatever information they traded set Winter on edge. She widen her strides and walked even closer to Penny.  

She tried to trust Aro. Her future teammate was confident and unwavering but as she watched everyone’s behavior Penny was starting to realize something. She was helpless and useless. She couldn’t contribute anything to Xanthic’s freedom. She was created to help and protect, but this situation wasn’t a physical fight.  

It was beyond her control…  

They finally arrived at Ironwood’s office. Xanthic was seated there, surrounded by the other Ace-Ops members. The gravity Dust bindings were on, holding her wrist together. Physically, she was well. Mentally, Ashley Xanthic nearly catatonic. The way her eyes… Penny’s Aura clenched around her systems. There was nearly no power running through Xanthic’s circuits. It was dull almost-  

“You look dead,” Ciel blurted out, surprise and a near overwhelming tone in her voice.  

Immediately those cybernetic eyes flickered on. It was long enough for Xanthic to take in the rebellious group but it dimmed far too quickly for Penny’s comfort. She didn’t stand when Harriet tried prompting her too. “I’m here to haunt you. Boo.” Xanthic said. Again it didn’t hold any bite and Penny’s processors barely register it as Xan’s voice. She wasn’t happy that so many people came to support he. Just tired.  

Ciel sneered, “A failure even in death, I see.” That finally got a reaction even if it was a lazy middle finger. The bit of normality helped Penny calm down.  

“Clover,” Ironwood commanded.  

“We’ll be close,” Clover said with a nod. He lead Harriet and Elm out of the room. Elm gave May a concerned look. Harriet and Fiona lightly glared at each other until Robyn stepped between them. She completely ignored the Spec-Ops and kept her eyes on Ironwood. Vine and Marrow stepped forward, protecting their General’s flanks. Penny was grateful Winter stood by her side. Even it was to protect her from Aro or Robyn’s team.  

The General’s eyes landed on Ciel though he didn’t speak until the doors hissed shut. The officer-in-training tried not to fidget, but from her position Penny could see her tightly squeeze her hands hidden behind her back.  

“I’m surprised Ms. Soleil is with you.”  

“I found them bonding at the old Gym! Ciel’s credentials are some of the best in the Police Academy. Almost as good as Robyn’s,” Aro said with a smile that wasn’t perfect. It was a little smug and that made it completely vicious. Penny looked around the room, reading people’s reactions. Everyone stared hard at her, tense.  

Penny flinched a little. Aro wasn’t a threat, she was a friend trying to help their future teammate. She wanted to say it but the tension in the room caused her processors to stutter and falter.  

"I bet with training Ciel’s Clockwork would be more versatile that Stay." Marrow seemed to frown at that. “I also noticed Penny completely destroyed the highest score.” That another response from Xanthic. Her cybernetic eyes glowed softly. Aro signed at her and finally roused the hacker onto her feet. It seemed like she was trying to wake up.  

“… She did now?” General Ironwood asked with a raised brow. His eyes finally lifted off Ciel and to Penny. She tried not to flinch under it. She really did but couldn’t find the courage.He was General Ironwood, he helped her father create her and- Aro’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, body angle between them like a shield.  

“Without breaking a sweat, according to May. Which is… surprising,” Aro tapped her chin. She spared a glance at Penny then down to her hand. She had grasped Aro’s shirt out of reflex. Penny let go and took a step closer to Winter. She was relieved to feel a faint pressure push into her.  

Aro pulled out her Scroll- a new model. It was gold and green, compact with only one handle. It didn’t open, with a press of the button it projected schematics… of Floating Array. Penny’s eyes widen. That was hidden off the network, the data was only in this facility.  

An instances was immediately brought forward in Penny’s head. Caught red handed by General Ironwood himself.  

Xanthic didn’t just hack Atlas’ Network but she physically snuck in here! That finally seemed to bring the hacker back to her senses. The smirked was a little soft, her features hard lacking the sharp edge but it was slowly coming back. Your system locked me out before I could get any real information, Xanthic once said.  

Floating Array and Penny herself wasn’t on the record, according to Atlas documentation, they didn’t exist.  

The mechanic took a deep breath. Slowly that façade faded with the bright blue of Aro’s eyes. A nearly chilling deep sea green eyes challenged Ironwood.  

“I don’t remember giving the military access to my design or permission to turn it into a lethal weapon.” Aurora Glade, lied with her semblance off.  

Penny felt a heavy weight in her chest. In order to keep the lie Ironwood carefully constructed around her, he couldn’t risk denying that claim. Aro effectively stolen Atlesian Military Weapon in front his most loyal subordinates.  

When she spoke this time her voice was completely flat, mimic’s Ironwood’s tone when he gave out orders. “I’ve had some companies ask me if it was a personal weapon or commercial one…” She was threatening to publish the schematics.  

“What do you want Glade.” The only crack in his composure was his tone of voice. It was so tense it was nearly dead.  

Aro’s semblance immediately turned on, “Xanthic’s punishment adjusted to accommodate for her autophobia. Of course this wouldn’t affect our previous arrangement.” Except it does. If Ironwood doesn’t give Penny complete freedom to choose her final teammate, the schematics would be released to the public. While the only people capable of using it were in the room, it could easily be reverse enginered by other Kingdoms. And as Ciel one said, humans could be horrible to each other.  

“Of course.” Ironwood said. He pulled out his Scroll transferring permissions to Winter. Immediately the cuffs turned off. “I’ll entrust Schnee to work out the accommodations with you.”  

Aro grin was more of a show of teeth, combined with her golden horns and glowing eyes… For once Penny was skeptical of her first friend. Marrow tried to hide a small smile, his tail wagging so slightly as they left. No one talked as Winter escorted the rebellious group back to the roof. Penny didn’t quite understand the atmosphere. She thought she’d be more conflicted about this but she found herself scared for the others.  

Wasn’t this a victory? Somehow her civilian teammates twisted Ironwood’s lies and manipulations against him. It felt… Penny fidgeted and she took a deep breath of the cold Solitas air to cool her down. Her processors finally placed the emotion, finally realized how bad the consequences could be. She was scared for her team. Her two civilian teammates just blackmailed the General into a corner in front of his subordinates. Not to mention Aro claimed to have created Floating Array.  

The repercussions would be dire.  

Whatever was hanging over them didn’t break until Xanthic stepped out onto the roof. She glared at everyone, “Whoo. Go team APCX…” It was said in such a bored and thick drawl it seemed to have shorted Focus. Aro’s eyes suddenly dulled and she snorted and laughed while Ciel manage to hide it a little with a cough. Satisfied with seeing some life back into everyone, Xanthic ran out arms stretched above her head, “Sun! Praise the sun! I want some Menagerie and Minstrel BBQ! A drink! Fucking pretzel dip!” Whatever tension that remained eased off as Xanthic vented out into the air.  

Slowly they filtered out of the cramp elevator. Penny let everyone walk past her, watching the crowd and life the empty halls of the facility never had. Robyn and Fiona was chatting and giggling, mocking the Ace-Ops reactions. Winter and May seemed a little conflicted but their shoulders weren’t as pinched. The Specialist was rubbing her temples. All the noise of life could be overwhelming at times but… it was wondrous.  

“That would be more effective if you relaxed your jaw,” Penny whispered to her. May sneered and coughed trying to hid it. Winter half glared at Penny but she saw those lips part ever so slightly.  

“Was fucking pretzel dip sex or food?” Aro whispered to them. May growled shoving Aro forward and Winter only groaned. Thanks to the Schnee’s famously pale complexion, Penny did see a small blush across her cheeks.  

They finally caught up to the others who was just watching Xanthic prowl around yelling.  

“We should calm her down,” Robyn whispered to Ciel.  

“I was kidnapped and treated as a bargaining chip. I’m not participating in anything.” Ciel objected. Despite the harsh words her attitude was a little light and entertained, like she was enjoying Xanthic’s frustration.  

“You have no idea how crazy I was going locked up doing the same thing every-day!” Xanthic screamed into the air. Aro hummed, playing along as she opened the transport with her Scroll. “Fucking Ironwood. Argh! I want to rip that Bluetooth off his fucking face and watch his body go limp!” She stormed the transport. Team APCX followed their raging teammate. Penny frowned, finding her co-pilot seat stolen by the hacker. At least she stopped yelling and was glaring past the window. When those sharp cybernetic eyes flicked to Penny she yelped and jumped a little. “I want to beat Penny’s score.”  

“Of course you do!” Fiona yelled from the back. The Huntresses had settled onto the sofa. Penny was a little surprised to see Winter seated in the middle, Fiona and May at either sides of her. Of course Robyn at Fiona’s side. “What does everyone feel like eating? I’m calling Joanna to pick us up some food and meeting us at the Gym.” Someone said sushi and the other wanted pizza. The Huntresses argued amongst themselves with Winter softly critisisng their choices.  

Ciel made a displeased noise, “Please don’t tell me this is going to be a regular thing,” She said. The officer-in-training leaned against Xanthic’s seat, probably because Penny was beside Aro. “Blackmailing the General and everything.”  

“Things usually go a lot smoother…I’m having a hard time figuring out where my plan failed,” Aro admitted with some embarrassment.  

“Oh. So this is fucking routine. Lovely,” Ciel scowled. Then Penny remembered the little box. She slipped off her backpack and pushed aside several folded blades to get to it.  

“Could it be because I didn’t delivery this?” She asked holding the mysterious box out. If she was the reason this happened…  

Xanthic took it and wrote out her signature with her finger. Invisible seems split open to reveal a new Scroll similar to Aro’s new one and thick gloves with cybernetic attachments. Penny counted at least four hard-light projectors on the palm side.  

“There was too much security to use the Scroll and I would have just assaulted the Ace-Ops if I had my gloves,” Xanthic explained, “So it’s probably a good thing you didn’t.”  

“And even if I was here I doubt I’d be able to do much. I prefer subtle manipulations,” Aro said.  

“Pretty sure they hate it.” Xanthic’s head nodded to the back. For a moment Penny caught Winter and May’s eyes. Penny finally realized why they were able to communicate without words. It was shared history and understanding. All three of them hated this side of Aro. The pair turned back to Fiona and Robyn. Xanthic noticed but continued talking with Aro in low volumes. “But no… I don’t think we can afford to be so reckless.”  

“We showed our biggest trump card,” Aro said with a frustrated sigh. Her hands flexed around the joystick. Her voice dropped to a whisper, “My trip to Vale was to transfer ownership of ADC so Ironwood or Jacques doesn’t target that next. I’d still have connections and favors but resources will be short for a bit.”  

“Wait… what are you two talking about?” Ciel asked with a worried edge to her voice.  

Aro tilted her head, dull… no, normal sea-green eyes looking at her, “Court games, Squire.” She grinned weakly. Ciel groaned and rolled her eyes but accepted the answer. Penny had a vague understanding of the phrase. The subtle manipulations of people and appearances to influence the masses. “Things should be calm for awhile. And as much as I hate Ironwood, I’m a little excited to do this Vytal Festival thing.” Aro said, her voice picking up and sounding a little lighter, more like Penny’s first impression of the women.  

How much of her was a lie through Focus?  

The rest of the ride was filed with oddly peaceful chatter. Xanthic’s bite was more like nibble now and Ciel was always ready with a quip back. Or perhaps Penny was just growing acustome to those harsh tones. The closer they got to the Gym the more energy built up, thanks to little Thyme. In the elevator down to the basement the sheep and goat Faunus was posturing at each other.  

“Oh come on! Xanthic is a legendary shot,” Fiona argued. Xanthic smirked, pride swelling obviously.  

Aro scoffed and rolled her eyes, “And Floating Array and is 100% accurate! Besides Penny’s eyes are the newest model.”  

“Bitch,” Xanthic scowled, "My shots are all skill."  

“Five thousand lien that Penny will smoke your ass,” Aro crossed her arms. Ciel sputtered, eyes wide and head whipping back the businesswomen.  

“Just 5? And upgrades.” Xanthic pointed to her eyes.  

“Seven and a gadget IOU,” Aro agreed.  

“We’re gonna be rich!” Fiona cheered running out of the elevator as soon as it opened. She was at the far end of the basement already setting up the shooting range. Joanna had two boxes and two booths shoved together in the back looking a little confused. As soon as she saw Xanthic, a grin broke out on her face.  

“Wow! Just like our academy days!”  

“Don’t remind me,” May and Winter groaned.  

Penny wanted to watch them interact a little more but her teammates Ciel and Aro dragged her off. Specifically Aro with her odd fluctuating gravity presence. Ciel took a deep breath and put her hands on Penny’s shoulders. “Don’t lose. This is two months of pay.”  

“Uh…” Penny smiled a little nervously. Two months sounded like a lot of time and effort but she did not fully comprehend the value of lien. Or human effort. But she was combat ready! Her systems was made for fighting, “It is nearly impossible for me to lose!”  

“I don’t know…” Aro muttered rubbing her chin. Focus was still off so the chances of the mechanic lying was nearly a 0.2 percent. “Xanthic is a really good shot. I’m sure it’s because of the upgrades because her a semblance was tied to her original eyes.”  

Penny only smiled, trying to reassure her teammates. "Floating Array can split into fourteen individual components."  

“Xanthic only has two hands,” Ciel reasoned with a shrug. Aro was starting to look a little worried.  

“Will our shooters please take their places!” Robyn yelled.  

Aro ruffled Penny’s hair, a familiar gesture that tickled Penny’s ears and had her giggling a little. The seating arrangements were divided amongst Team Xanthic and Team Penny. Winter, May, Aro and Ciel sat on Penny’s side. She smiled brightly at them and May gave a loud cheer. Joanna and Fiona stood at Xanthic’s side, loudy hollering and ignoring the other patrons. Robyn dropped her lien onto the table, next to the boxes and boxes of food and walked to the middle to referee.  

“Alright ladies the rules are simple. Highest points at the end of ten minutes is victorious!” She yelled with a flare that was nearly making Penny Aura overload her power unit. Penny bounced with excitement to burn it off a little. “The current pot is half a 32 thousand lien,” Robyn said. Penny frowned and looked at Winter and May. May was grinning and cheering while Winter just shrugged her shoulders. They came from rich families but throwing so much into a game seemed excessive. “The winning team can decide how its split.”  

“What?!” Neon and Reese yelled from the back. They quickly dashed over on their skates and threw more lien on the table. “You got this cutie!” Neon cheered jumping.  

Robyn covered her mouth trying to hid a grin. Penny giggled as Reese jumped up and down on her hoverboard. “Team Penny! Go! Go!”  

Penny unfurled Floating Array from her back. All fourteen blades pointed down range. Xanthic smirked and dusted off her palms. Hard-light projectors sparked at every contact. The cybernetics glowed brighter and brighter. Was it charging or was it for show?  

“Do Robyn’s crossbow!” Fiona yelled.  

Xanthic sneered and flourished both wrist. The hard-light projectors on her gloves crafted a near exact replica of the arm mounted weapon. Robyn let out an appreciative whistle. Her confident eyes slide over to Penny.  

The metal women was starting to worry as even Robyn smirked at her, “Care for a test shot, Blue?” Robyn asked.  

Xanthic aimed down range then looked at Penny. She winked as the crossbow fired. The on the spot changes were three rails on the crossbow. Three hard-light arrows split off into different directions, three targets. Like how Aro dodged the Spider Droid without looking, Xanthic’s blind fire were all within the lethal zone. Penny frowned, humming in thought. Aro’s assessment about Xanthic’s eyes must be off. Or maybe Xanthic was using more of her neural augments? The most plausible explanation was both semblance and cybernetic enhancements.  

This challenge was definitely harder than anticipated.  

“Participants ready!?” Robyn asked.  

Penny felt her Aura swell and systems hummed. She took a deep breath, taking in as much cold air before blowing out a slightly visible steam.  

“Combat ready!” Penny confirmed.  

“Player two ready,” Xanthic smirked.  

“You got this Penn!” Aro and May yelled.  

“Xan! Xan! Xan!” Joanna and Fiona cheered.  

Robyn let the tension built up a little more before yelling, “Begin!”  

As soon as Penny started firing she realized her firing rate was not high enough. Floating Array needed time to charge while Xanthic shot once and hit three different targets. She took a deep breath and focused on control. She didn’t need a lot of power, didn’t need to charge up the shots so long. It only need to be detected by the scoring system.  

Penny started to stagger her shots as well. One barrel always firing with the others were charging up. The steady stream of fire quickly caught up with the burst Xanthic did. A downside to the gloves was reloading ability. Xanthic had to recreate the entire weapon. Which was why she was only firing with one arm, Penny realized.  

When the first crossbow finally ran out of hard-light arrows, it disappeared. With a flick of her wrist military grade, long barreled pistol was in her hand. Penny could see her cybernetic eyes telescoping and shifting from target to target. Underneath the loud cheering she could hear Xanthic’s augments hum loudly.  

It was a genuine challenge for both shooters but at the end of 10 minutes…  

Xanthic’s rate of fire outpaced Penny by ten points. Team Penny groaned and collapsed to the floor, the students particularly defeated. The idiots that threw in such large amounts of money didn’t seem to upset. Aro was nervously laughing as Ciel chewed her out.  

Team Xanthic was jumping around, particularly Fiona. Xanthic rolled her eyes and fist bumped Robyn and Joanna. Then she turned to Penny and held it out a first, “Good shooting, Swords.” Xanthic said.  

With a smile.  

Penny grinned, fist slamming into Xanthic’s. The women let out a pained, flinching as metal connected Aura-less bone and flesh. “Oh! I’m sorry!”  

“I-I’m fine,” Xanthic mumbled despite the tears in her eyes. It took a few tries with a throbbing, possible broken hand but the alias Silver Wat was once again top on the scoreboard with Penny’s name under it.  

Error: Enemy Unknown

[jelly-pies]

Aesthetic Tag Game

Thanks for tagging me @an-odd-idea!

Rules: Bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold

(soft!) baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night |

(dark academia!) neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story |

(edgy!) closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks |

(seventies!) colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding |

(preppy casual!) collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colorful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairy-lights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details

(@masterninjacow) rainy mornings | sweet steaming tea | cats’ purrs | daydreaming about fantasies | back hugs | glinting necklaces | loud video games | grumbling thunder | constantly chewing gum | wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear to bed | watching horror movies at night | nibbling on chocolates | talking to yourself | short hair | sad lofi music | messy sketches | sweet-scented body wash | spicy noodles at midnight | hating physical affection but craving it at the same time | ending all texts with lmao or rip

(@cherriigguk) | dried flowers | painting at 2 am in oversized sweater| up until sunrise | abundance of blankets and plushies | minimalistic colours | writing when you can’t sleep | warm banana bread on a winters day | stroking a sleepy dog | big eyeliner | butterfly clips | lo-fi hip hop | glossy lips and rose tinted cheeks | afternoon tea with old friends | oversized cardigans | herbal tea | dainty jewellery | self-care evenings | messy low bun or ponytails | dark hair | too many sketchbooks

(@bisoo) Fairy lights | Walking in the woods | night city | waves sound | drinking hot chocolate or tea during raining days | being wrapped in a blanket | polaroids | pastel stuff | mint tea | cats’ furr | baked brownies or cookies | French toast/pancakes for breakfast | drinking tea at 3 am with friends | café | doing braids on your friend’s hair | lots of plushies | doing old drawings again | boxes full of doodles | iced coffee

(@midnightlunaandinnerfangirl) having tons of plushies | wearing black | knitting | making your own clothes | napping in the sun | dancing in your bedroom | reading books in your bed | oversized hoodies | combat boots | flowy dresses | lots of piercings | wearing multiple rings on your fingers | gardening | ripped black jeans | chokers | wearing tights | oversized sweaters | black nail polish | holding babies | coffee

(@superherotiger) Posters on your bedroom walls | Marvel/Star Wars shirts | hot chocolate at night | platonic cuddling | family jewellery | ocean breeze | sand on your feet | reading books in the sunlight | stuffed toys | big jackets | black hair | playing games | night owl | clean and orderly | blues and greens | trinkets from travels | LEGO | unfinished sketch books | sunny days | starry nights

(@an-odd-idea) constant daydreaming | full notes app | studying maps | staying up late | meaningful jewelry | searching for music to match what you’re writing | loving deeply | always cold | cuddling cats | no makeup | long hair | camp t-shirts | songs on repeat | singing in the car | fuzzy blanket | chamomile tea | midnight snacks | summer nostalgia | bad at hugs but really wanting them anyway | holding hands |

(@jelly-pies) ink on your hands | doodling random quotes/song lyrics | t-shirts and denim shorts | keeping mints in your purse | lip balm | talking to inanimate objects | half-full journals | backpacks | fandom trinkets | flip-flops | board games | songs from original movie soundtracks | holding conversations with kids | fanarts saved to your phone | lying on the grass | floating on your back in the water | full hearty breakfasts | casual side-hugs | dozing off anywhere | fruit shakes |

So this was really fun, I especially liked the adding-aesthetics-of-your-own thing! I’m tagging: @letscatchyoulater @anxious---soul @imalivebecauseirondad @just-the-daydreamer @probablyprocrastinatingrightnow @vintervittran @kitkatwinchester @wh0doyouthinkyouareiam @loneswagger if you guys want, and anyone else who wants to participate :D

[littlemissagrafina]

Thanks for the tag @wh0doyouthinkyouareiam

Rules: Bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold

(soft!) baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night |

(dark academia!) neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story |

(edgy!) closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks |

(seventies!) colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding |

(preppy casual!) collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colorful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairy-lights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details

(@masterninjacow) rainy mornings | sweet steaming tea | cats’ purrs| daydreaming about fantasies | back hugs | glinting necklaces | loud video games | grumbling thunder | constantly chewing gum | wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear to bed | watching horror movies at night | nibbling on chocolates | talking to yourself | short hair | sad lofi music | messy sketches | sweet-scented body wash | spicy noodles at midnight | hating physical affection but craving it at the same time | ending all texts with lmao or rip

(@cherriigguk) | dried flowers | painting at 2 am in oversized sweater| up until sunrise | abundance of blankets and plushies | minimalistic colours | writing when you can’t sleep | warm banana bread on a winters day | stroking a sleepy dog | big eyeliner | butterfly clips | lo-fi hip hop | glossy lips and rose tinted cheeks | afternoon tea with old friends | oversized cardigans | herbal tea | dainty jewellery | self-care evenings | messy low bun or ponytails | dark hair | too many sketchbooks

(@bisoo) Fairy lights | Walking in the woods | night city | waves sound | drinking hot chocolate or tea during raining days | being wrapped in a blanket | polaroids | pastel stuff | mint tea | cats’ furr | baked brownies or cookies | French toast/pancakes for breakfast | drinking tea at 3 am with friends | café | doing braids on your friend’s hair | lots of plushies | doing old drawings again | boxes full of doodles | iced coffee

(@midnightlunaandinnerfangirl) having tons of plushies | wearing black | knitting | making your own clothes | napping in the sun | dancing in your bedroom | reading books in your bed | oversized hoodies | combat boots | flowy dresses | lots of piercings | wearing multiple rings on your fingers | gardening | ripped black jeans | chokers | wearing tights | oversized sweaters | black nail polish | holding babies | coffee

(@superherotiger) Posters on your bedroom walls | Marvel/Star Wars shirts | hot chocolate at night | platonic cuddling | family jewellery | ocean breeze | sand on your feet | reading books in the sunlight | stuffed toys | big jackets | black hair | playing games | night owl | clean and orderly | blues and greens | trinkets from travels | LEGO | unfinished sketch books | sunny days | starry nights

(@an-odd-idea) constant daydreaming | full notes app | studying maps | staying up late | meaningful jewelry | searching for music to match what you’re writing | loving deeply | always cold | cuddling cats | no makeup | long hair | camp t-shirts | songs on repeat | singing in the car | fuzzy blanket | chamomile tea | midnight snacks | summer nostalgia | bad at hugs but really wanting them anyway | holding hands |

(@jelly-pies) ink on your hands | doodling random quotes/song lyrics | t-shirts and denim shorts | keeping mints in your purse | lip balm | talking to inanimate objects | half-full journals | backpacks | fandom trinkets | flip-flops | board games | songs from original movie soundtracks | holding conversations with kids | fanarts saved to your phone | lying on the grass | floating on your back in the water | full hearty breakfasts | casual side-hugs | dozing off anywhere | fruit shakes |

(@imalivebecauseirondad) daydreaming | platonic hugs | staying up late reading fanfiction | casually telling people you love them | writing when you feel sad | going online when you can’t sleep | messy room | closet filled with all kinds of clothes | stressing about work but still procrastinating | cats | wanting an animal but knowing you can’t take care of one | taking photos of your friends/family at random moments unexpectedly | nostalgia fro something you don’t recognize | doodling in the margins of books | singing alone | karoake | video games | binging shows | comics | wishing for something impossible

(@dredfulhapiness) crowded libraries | naps | chronically cracked phone screen | CD collections | musical theater | Every Kurt Vonnegut book | bookends | patterned button-ups | magical realism | scream-singing Taylor Swift | winter nights | nails bit to the quick | jigsaw puzzles | black coffee | drive-in movie theaters | driving at night | thunderstorms | horror novels | owning multiple sets of dice

(@wh0doyouthinkyouareiam) unmade beds | soft blankets | iced coffee | lightning shows at night | hair tangled with sea salt | rain gear | red lipstick | gold hoop earrings | light summer dresses | messy embroidery | pressed flowers | leather notebooks | black gel pens | books in languages you can hardly understand | glasses slipping down your nose | painted toenails | smiling underneath a mask | foggy October mornings | sneaking out to go stargazing | mint-chocolate candy

(@littlemissagrafina) too many notebooks or sketchbooks | the smell of the ocean | sunsets in summer | painted nails | natural hair | too many WIPS in your docs | musical soundtracks | talking to friends until after midnight | fandom merchandise | high waisted jeans | coffee cups sitting empty next to you long after you finish them | fluffy socks | fairy lights | paint/ink/graphite stained fingers after art | the soft glow of candles | day dreaming | more than one piercing | unedited/unchecked writing | the still silence when the world is meant to be asleep but you're still awake | being open and affection with your friends |

I'll tag: @scooter3scooter @itstimeforachange01 @joyful-soul-collector @justt-ppeachy @canonismybitch @blondsak @vintervittran

[infinitebookwrms]

Aesthetic Tag Game

Thank you so much for the tag @letscatchyoulater !! this was fun 😃

Rules: Bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold

(soft!) baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night |

(dark academia!) neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story |

(edgy!) closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks |

(seventies!) colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding |

(preppy casual!) collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colorful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairy-lights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details

(@masterninjacow) rainy mornings | sweet steaming tea | cats’ purrs | daydreaming about fantasies | back hugs | glinting necklaces | loud video games | grumbling thunder | constantly chewing gum | wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear to bed | watching horror movies at night | nibbling on chocolates | talking to yourself | short hair | sad lofi music | messy sketches | sweet-scented body wash | spicy noodles at midnight | hating physical affection but craving it at the same time | ending all texts with lmao or rip

(@cherriigguk) | dried flowers | painting at 2 am in oversized sweater| up until sunrise | abundance of blankets and plushies | minimalistic colours | writing when you can’t sleep | warm banana bread on a winters day | stroking a sleepy dog | big eyeliner | butterfly clips | lo-fi hip hop | glossy lips and rose tinted cheeks | afternoon tea with old friends | oversized cardigans | herbal tea | dainty jewellery | self-care evenings | messy low bun or ponytails | dark hair | too many sketchbooks

(@bisoo) Fairy lights | Walking in the woods | night city | waves sound | drinking hot chocolate or tea during raining days | being wrapped in a blanket | polaroids | pastel stuff | mint tea | cats’ furr | baked brownies or cookies | French toast/pancakes for breakfast | drinking tea at 3 am with friends | café | doing braids on your friend’s hair | lots of plushies | doing old drawings again | boxes full of doodles | iced coffee

(@midnightlunaandinnerfangirl) having tons of plushies | wearing black | knitting | making your own clothes | napping in the sun | dancing in your bedroom | reading books in your bed | oversized hoodies | combat boots | flowy dresses | lots of piercings | wearing multiple rings on your fingers | gardening | ripped black jeans | chokers | wearing tights | oversized sweaters | black nail polish | holding babies | coffee

(@superherotiger) Posters on your bedroom walls | Marvel/Star Wars shirts | hot chocolate at night | platonic cuddling | family jewellery | ocean breeze | sand on your feet | reading books in the sunlight | stuffed toys | big jackets | black hair | playing games | night owl | clean and orderly | blues and greens | trinkets from travels | LEGO | unfinished sketch books | sunny days | starry nights

(@an-odd-idea) constant daydreaming | full notes app | studying maps | staying up late | meaningful jewelry | searching for music to match what you’re writing | loving deeply | always cold | cuddling cats | no makeup | long hair | camp t-shirts | songs on repeat | singing in the car | fuzzy blanket | chamomile tea | midnight snacks | summer nostalgia | bad at hugs but really wanting them anyway | holding hands |

(@jelly-pies) ink on your hands | doodling random quotes/song lyrics | t-shirts and denim shorts | keeping mints in your purse | lip balm | talking to inanimate objects | half-full journals | backpacks | fandom trinkets | flip-flops | board games | songs from original movie soundtracks | holding conversations with kids | fanarts saved to your phone | lying on the grass | floating on your back in the water | full hearty breakfasts | casual side-hugs | dozing off anywhere | fruit shakes |

(@letscatchyoulater) misty sunrises | peppermint tea with milk and honey | sunlight filtering down between trees | lots of warm, squeezing hugs | vanilla scented candles  | found family fics | watching raindrops fall down the window pane | drinking hot chocolate alone at a cafe | different playlists for different moods and activities | subtle fandom pun shirts and stuff | hurt/comfort | wireless headphones for care-free dancing | crisp autumn days | shadowy forest trails | calm seas and stormy lakes | reading just one more chapter before going to sleep | cocooning oneself in a blanket burrito | chocolate biscuits | platonic cuddle piles | randomly singing and humming everywhere

(@infinitebookwrms) long road trips | singing off-key at the top of your lungs | dancing in the kitchen | baking at midnight | walking on the beach | thunderstorms | brunch with friends | unfinished stories | various rings on multiple fingers | dangly earrings | spontaneous photoshoots | dying your hair fun colors | combat boots | strappy sandals | short dresses | baseball caps | panama hats | night skies | watching waves crash against the shore | exploring new places | bold lipstick

I’m tagging @astaircaseofbooks @thebookfangirlstuff @thgbookprincess @spiegelgold-reads @thelivebookproject and anyone who wants to do it!

[kitkatwinchester]

Aesthetic Tag Game

Thanks for tagging me @jelly-pies and @letscatchyoulater! I know you guys tagged me a while ago, but it took me a bit to come up with my own aesthetics lol. It was super fun though!! 

Rules: Bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold

(soft!) baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night | 

(dark academia!) neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story |

(edgy!) closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks |

(seventies!) colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding |

(preppy casual!) collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colorful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairy-lights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details

(@masterninjacow) rainy mornings | sweet steaming tea | cats’ purrs | daydreaming about fantasies | back hugs | glinting necklaces | loud video games | grumbling thunder | constantly chewing gum | wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear to bed | watching horror movies at night | nibbling on chocolates | talking to yourself | short hair | sad lofi music | messy sketches | sweet-scented body wash | spicy noodles at midnight | hating physical affection but craving it at the same time | ending all texts with lmao or rip

(@cherriigguk) | dried flowers | painting at 2 am in oversized sweater| up until sunrise | abundance of blankets and plushies | minimalistic colours | writing when you can’t sleep | warm banana bread on a winters day | stroking a sleepy dog | big eyeliner | butterfly clips | lo-fi hip hop | glossy lips and rose tinted cheeks | afternoon tea with old friends | oversized cardigans | herbal tea | dainty jewellery | self-care evenings | messy low bun or ponytails | dark hair | too many sketchbooks

(@bisoo) Fairy lights | Walking in the woods | night city | waves sound | drinking hot chocolate or tea during raining days | being wrapped in a blanket | polaroids | pastel stuff | mint tea | cats’ furr | baked brownies or cookies | French toast/pancakes for breakfast | drinking tea at 3 am with friends | café | doing braids on your friend’s hair | lots of plushies | doing old drawings again | boxes full of doodles | iced coffee

(@midnightlunaandinnerfangirl) having tons of plushies | wearing black | knitting | making your own clothes | napping in the sun | dancing in your bedroom | reading books in your bed | oversized hoodies | combat boots | flowy dresses | lots of piercings | wearing multiple rings on your fingers | gardening | ripped black jeans | chokers | wearing tights | oversized sweaters | black nail polish | holding babies | coffee

(@superherotiger) Posters on your bedroom walls | Marvel/Star Wars shirts | hot chocolate at night | platonic cuddling | family jewellery | ocean breeze | sand on your feet | reading books in the sunlight | stuffed toys | big jackets | black hair | playing games | night owl | clean and orderly | blues and greens | trinkets from travels | LEGO | unfinished sketch books | sunny days | starry nights

(@an-odd-idea) constant daydreaming | full notes app | studying maps | staying up late | meaningful jewelry | searching for music to match what you’re writing | loving deeply | always cold | cuddling cats | no makeup | long hair | camp t-shirts | songs on repeat | singing in the car | fuzzy blanket | chamomile tea | midnight snacks | summer nostalgia | bad at hugs but really wanting them anyway | holding hands |

(@jelly-pies) ink on your hands | doodling random quotes/song lyrics | t-shirts and denim shorts | keeping mints in your purse | lip balm | talking to inanimate objects | half-full journals | backpacks | fandom trinkets | flip-flops | board games | songs from original movie soundtracks | holding conversations with kids | fanarts saved to your phone | lying on the grass | floating on your back in the water | full hearty breakfasts | casual side-hugs | dozing off anywhere | fruit shakes |

(@letscatchyoulater) misty sunrises | peppermint tea with milk and honey | sunlight filtering down between trees | lots of warm, squeezing hugs | vanilla scented candles  | found family fics | watching raindrops fall down the window pane | drinking hot chocolate alone at a cafe | different playlists for different moods and activities | subtle fandom pun shirts and stuff | hurt/comfort | wireless headphones for care-free dancing | crisp autumn days | shadowy forest trails | calm seas and stormy lakes | reading just one more chapter before going to sleep | cocooning oneself in a blanket burrito | chocolate biscuits | platonic cuddle piles | randomly singing and humming everywhere

(@kitkatwinchester) constantly listening to music | ruffling siblings’ hair | dancing like nobody’s watching | head in someone’s lap| reading in a corner with a desk lamp | always saying “I love you” to friends and family | long bike rides | sunsets by the lake | late night phone calls | writing when emotional | playing random instruments when you walk by them | family doesn’t end with blood | always having something to talk about | nocturnal | organized chaos in your room | easily losing track of time | really long hugs from the people you love | always wearing fandom gear| organizing things into folders/albums | taking lots of fall photos

I’m tagging @baloobird, @jen27ny, @crowleyellestair, @howdoistopthetrain, @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover, @ironfamjam, @jolinarjackson, @irondad-not-ironsad, @joyful-soul-collector, @justme--emily, and @annieshurley.