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thoughtless-muse · 1 month

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“for whom the tongue craves to taste,” [d.d]

“the cdc showers”

a/n: quick disclaimer – this is actually just a snippet of a larger piece that I’m putting together (a smutty 5+1 prompt, five times daryl made you cum, and the one time he let you return the favor) but as it’s my first real attempt at smut, I wanted to post this as a means to garner some constructive criticism before finishing the piece. If you’d be so kind to read and lmk your thoughts/critiques, I’d really appreciate it!

EDIT: I know it’s not how the majority of 5+1 prompts are done, but I’ve decided to post each segment as they are finished. I just think it’s an easier/less stressful method for me, so I hope you guys don’t mind the posting choice. the posts will be linked together for easier access.

the cdc showers – arrow mishaps lead to frisky fun – ever done it in a loft? – cold iron bars – the watchtower – I want a taste, too

c/w: explicit sexual content, cunnilingus, shower cunnilingus, tongue fucking, fingering, language, dirty talk, undisclosed age gap, 18+

word count: 2.4k

that morning, had anyone scooped you off to the side and told you that mere hours after arriving at the pipe-dream that was the CDC you’d be corralled into a hot shower with none other than daryl dixon squished between your thighs, you’d have laughed straight in their face and directed them towards the nearest mental institution – not that that would do anyone much good, given the state of things; but had anyone declared a statement that outrageous, you’d have thought their mind already gone, much like the drooling, shuffling, decaying bodies wandering the earth.

yet here you were, a steady jet of hot water battering the sore muscles of your back, liquor-laden torso slightly slumped, thighs spread open by broad shoulders and daryl dixon’s wicked tongue licking your little cunny straight to nirvana.

how the fuck did you even end up here, anyway?

it was so uncharacteristic of you – you knew next to nothing about daryl dixon. he was simply a mutual stranger. you’d never even had more than a few fleeting conversations with the man, for fuck’s sake; if you could even call them that. daryl was brusque and wholly unapproachable, and his attitude left a lot to be desired. due to his unpleasantness, you’d opted to keep your distance and observe rather than to interact. to be completely honest, you’d been more judgmental rather than observant of the man before, back at the quarry, internally critiquing his sour attitude, accent and frayed clothes; and, shamefully, even at times presuming that he was some forty year old virgin that had been holed up in his mother’s basement before the world went to shit – but, fuck, were you ever wrong.

maybe he was forty, maybe he had been holed up in his mother’s basement, who the fuck knows, but he sure as fuck wasn’t a virgin – at least, his tongue wasn’t. the way he moved it, fucked it into you, made a mess of you with it, there was no way he wasn’t experienced with it.

you let out a loud, trembling gasp when daryl suddenly broke his tender tongue-flicks to slide his teeth gently against your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

okay, fuck, scratch that. he was experienced with his whole mouth.

unlike the few other men you’d allowed to taste the heaven between your legs, daryl used his entire lower face to devour you – his tongue was the star of the show, of course, but his lips, nose and chin made a hell of a supporting cast. when his tongue was busy fucking your walls, his nose was right against your clit in its place, his head shaking side to side, applying just enough pressure to bring you pleasure but not enough to stimulate you into orgasm; and then, as if he could simply innately sense when you were becoming desperate for more, his tongue would slip from your hole and return to your clit once more, circling and flicking it with expert movements, quickly bringing you right back to that sweet precipice.

how long had he been at it?

the water wasn’t cold yet – or maybe your body was just too hot to register that it was; but with the amount of times that daryl had built then robbed you of your orgasm, you drunkenly surmised that it had to of been a good fifteen minutes. any other man would have tapped out from exhaustion already.

of course, there were times when his tongue would get tired, but even then, unlike your previous lovers, he seemed loathe to leave you without any contact – he would alternate between giving your clit chaste little kisses and moving his lips against your entire cunt as if it were a second mouth that he was intent on claiming; then, when his tongue was rested enough, he would dive right back into devouring you.

it was absolutely wrecking you, in the best and worst ways.

maybe it was simply the affects of the alcohol swimming through your veins that fed you the illusion of this being the best damn head you’d ever received; maybe it was because you certainly didn’t have a lot of other experiences to compare it to; or maybe it was the warmth that came with the comfort of hot water and a full stomach that made it so much better – either way, you were almost at the brink now, again, thighs quaking with the effort of holding your body upright and staving off your impending orgasm; you knew daryl would more than likely take it away if he sensed it, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that.

“oh, god,” you hissed out when daryl flattened his tongue against your clit, flicking it with short, harsh movements, before slipping it down to part your folds and lick up your slit. he transitioned between the repetitive movements at a near imperceptible speed, without ever having to trade out accuracy and rhythm for it. it was a dangerous cocktail of pleasure that had you damn near seeing stars. each harsh swipe of his tongue against your clit sent zips of electricity up your spine, and built a familiar tension within your gut.

“ya like tha’, sweetheart?” daryl parted from your cunt just enough to inquire huskily, his voice so low that you barely even managed to catch it over the volume of the hissing spray. you nearly whined at the loss of his tongue, and, rather than answer his question, which you could hardly even decipher at the moment, you reached a hand down to tangle your fingers into the short hair at his nape, using what leverage you had to push his head forward until the tip of his nose brushed against your sensitive clit once more.

“no, d-don’t – don’t talk…” you slurred out, tugging at his hair insistently and pulling a deep, rumbling chuckle from the man below you.

“some manners you have,” daryl drawled, but to your delight, returned his tongue to your slit, parting your wet folds and slipping it past the rim of your tight entrance. your fingers twitched against his nape as you released a high, airy sigh, and your hips began to move of their own accord, humping your cunt against his face and pulling even more vibrating vocalizations from his throat. you just wanted firmer friction, damn it.

your stomach was stirring, tight, that pressure slowly mounting. it felt fucking good, the way he was thrusting and wiggling his tongue against your gummy walls, fucking you with the thick muscle, his nose bumping into your clit and sending subtle jolts up your spine, and those vibrations and sounds, fuck! – but it just wasn’t enough. you needed something different, something more.

“do… do what you were doing before…” you requested breathlessly, hips trembling, fingers digging into the skin of his nape in desperation. “‘m so close, daryl… just need more.”

the thought of keeping your impending orgasm away from his awareness seemed to have slipped away in the midst of the tremulous pleasure he was bringing you, and maybe you shouldn’t have let the information out, but you were so desperate. your tummy was so fucking tight, that coil winding and winding to a painful climax, and holding it in just seemed impossible, you needed to let it go – and at the moment, the only way you could possibly reach orgasm was through daryl.

daryl flicked his eyes up to meet yours, and though your vision was a bit hazy from the steam and alcohol, you swore the man was smirking up at you from within your cunt. daryl was silent for a moment, all movements against your cunny paused, before he leaned back slightly and said, lowly, “why don’ I do somethin’ better, instead?”

before your drunk, horny, fuddled mind could truly decipher his words daryl was in motion; his warm hand gripped the back of your knee, bending your leg easily and hoisting it atop his shoulder – distantly, you registered a strange sensation against the skin of your calf (was that a shirt? was daryl fully clothed right now?) – and once your leg was stabilized, he skirted the fingers of his other hand up your other leg, the one that was still planted to the floor of the shower.

his fingertips grazed your knee, then the plush flesh of your thigh, before reaching between your hips. you jumped slightly when you felt the pad of his finger run over your slit, the thick digit parting your folds smoothly, the tip dipping ever so subtly into your entrance every so often. like he was testing the waters, or something.

“d-daryl, what are you doing?” you inquired, heart tripping over itself, apprehension twisting in your gut for the first time since he’d invited himself into your shower and initiated this whole thing.

wait, had he invited himself? or did you do that?

you couldn’t remember.

“shh, jus’ trus’ me, sweetheart. This’s gon’ blow yer mind.” daryl responded back, calmly, warm breath fanning over your sensitive clit as he spoke. your breath shuddered in your lungs, but any further objections died in your throat when daryl’s hot tongue met your sex, circling, flicking, flattening, devouring – his pace was much faster and firmer than before, the pleasure much more intense than what had previously been given.

“o-oh, fuck! daryl!” you moaned, your hand sliding up from his nape to the crown of his head, fingers fisting into his hair to hold his head still as you rutted your hips forward to meet his skilled tongue.

“shit, that’s it, baby,” daryl panted, muffled, into the slick heat of your cunt, tongue drawing lazy circles between his words. “jus’ fuckin’ lose it. use my tongue, sweetheart.”

it felt so fucking good. it felt like your cunt was melting right into daryl’s mouth, searing hot and drippy, sloppy, coating his lips, jaws, nose, and neck with copious amounts of your arousal – all the while daryl growled, groaned, and moaned as he slurped it down, as if it was the very nectar of life itself.

your gut felt like it would burst – at any moment, with any flick of his tongue, in time with any of those vibrating groans, you’d be exploding all over daryl’s face, releasing every single ounce of the pent-up arousal daryl had inflicted upon your body over the last fifteen minutes in a single second.

“daryl, daryl, god, yes… fuck, don’t stop… don’t s-stop.”

you continued to repeat those words, falling like a river from your mouth, a mantra that seemed to keep you grounded as daryl’s tongue threatened to send you floating away –

a sound akin to a scream bubbled in your throat when daryl suddenly slipped two of his thick fingers into your cunt; the sensation was far from unpleasant but far too close to overwhelming – and when he began to pump them in time with the flicks of his tongue, and curled them just so on every outward pull, scraping against something at the top of your gummy walls, you simply couldn’t hold it in.

your entire body locked up, muscles freezing as your lips fell open to release mute moans, both hands now swinging down to grip daryl’s hair.

those silent moans you were releasing quickly morphed into loud, wanton, downright sinful vocalizations as daryl pumped his fingers into your cunt, still rubbing that sweet spot, fingerfucking you through your high and bringing stars to your eyes. you pressed daryl’s head impossibly closer to your cunt, humping whatever you could and burying his fingers deeper inside your walls with desperate, short, shaky movements, releasing a litany of his name and curses in between breathy pants and moans.

when the waves of your high had begun to recede, you slowed your hips until they came to a complete stop, your chest heaving from the deep lungfuls of steamy air you pulled in. your body felt incredibly fuzzy, your mind pleasantly foggy; but your body, and everything else, felt too hot, too cramped, too everything, and when daryl decided to give your throbbing, sensitive clit one last tiny flick of his tongue, you damn near smacked him in the head.

if only your arms would move.

a small gasp was pulled from your lips when daryl slipped his fingers from your sloppy cunt, the friction against your sensitive walls almost enough to have your entire body seizing, and it was only when daryl lifted his hands up to grip your wrists were you able to disentangle your fingers from his hair; only with his help, of course.

daryl then grasped the plump flesh of your thigh, the one that was still tossed over his shoulder, and pulled it down slowly, not releasing his hold until your foot was planted firmly on the wet floor of the tub.

when your balance was secured daryl scuttled back from between your legs, and when he’d rose to a standing position, his chest now centimeters from your own (which you distantly realized was bare) you couldn’t help but stumble backwards until your back hit the cold wall. your lids felt incredibly heavy, and exhaustion gnawed insistently at your muscles; but through the fog, you were able to register daryl, who was indeed fully clothed, the fabric of his shirt and jeans soaked and clinging to his body like a second skin – and you were certain that was a smirk on his lips.

a smirk that said he knew he had just blown your mind, even if you would never admit it to him.

it seemed as though your orgasm had sobered you up a bit, because when daryl sidled up to you, right beneath the harsh spray, and placed his large hands on your naked hips, you were able to lift your hands and plant them on his chest. he didn’t attempt to move closer to you, but his hands didn’t fall from your hips either; and when he spoke, his voice was chock-full of cockiness that you found simultaneously alluring and irritating.

“if ya ever want yer mind blown again, ya know where to find me.”

with that, daryl slipped his hands from your hips and turned, ripped open the shower curtain with little effort and then stepped out, as if he hadn’t just performed an intimate act on you. water dripped noisily against the linoleum floor as he stalked away, and, not one to give up the chance at having the last word, you croaked out,

“in your dreams, dixon.”

the only thing you got in reply was a haughty chuckle, echoing into the bathroom from somewhere within the quarters you’d claimed for the night.

#daryl x reader #twd #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon x reader #twd x reader

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fyeahygocardart · 2 years

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D.D. Jet Iron

#D.D. Jet Iron #yugioh #ygo #Fuya Okudaira #ygo tcg #yugioh tcg #yugioh zexal #zexal #Machine #LIGHT

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psychosistr · 5 years

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Don’t Cost a Thing- Part 1

Summary: Steelbeak, well-known ladies man and chief officer of F.O.W.L., unintentionally ends up annoying his partner, Dominic Domino, by showering him with incredibly expensive and unwarranted gifts. Will he figure out the right way to earn the other bird’s attention?

Notes: This is a Steelbeak x OC fic starring the amazing character Dominic Domino by @thefriendlyfour / @eleanorose123 . If you want to learn more about him before diving into the fic, check him out here on her account then come back. Enjoy!

Deep beneath F.O.W.L. headquarters, agent Domino- or Dominic, depending on whom he was speaking to- made his way through the base’s large garage of cars to his own vehicle. It had been another long day of running missions and he was more than ready for the comfort and quiet of his own home.

As he approached the car, keys in hand and already planning out what the rest of his night would entail, something in the driver’s seat caught his eye. “Hm?” He peeked in through the window and spotted something that made him roll his eyes with a scowl on his long beak. “Not again..” He unlocked his door and reached in to pull the offending item out of his car and into the poor lighting of the garage.

The item in question was a small box wrapped in shiny metallic wrapping paper (steel colored, he realized) with a red ribbon tied around it. There was a small note tucked under the edge of the ribbon, but he didn’t even need to read it to know who it was from- with the box’s color scheme, it was pretty obvious.

Still, his eyes glanced at the card out of habit and he saw the expected combination of letters that was short but irritatingly familiar by now: “To- D.D., From- S.B.”

It was the same card that had appeared on every gift he’d received for the past six weeks, five days, and 22 hours- yes, he’d been counting. Dominic had been receiving these sorts of unwarranted presents at a steady rate of at least one every three to four days, all from the same person.

“Aw, c’mon- ya could at least humor me an’ open it, Deedee.” Ah, speak of the devil and he shall appear…

Dominic spared a glance to one of the garage’s pillars and spotted his partner, Steelbeak, leaning casually against the tall column with his arms folded over his chest.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want it.” Dominic said while setting the box on the hood of the car next to his own. He then turned back to his own car and opened the door. “And quit breaking into my car- at this rate you’ll bust the locks.” He was about to get in, but a hand on the car’s door prevented him from closing it. “Steelbeak..” He said in a low, warning tone of voice.

“You ain’t leavin’ me a lot of options here, Dee.” Steelbeak said while looking down at his partner and not letting go of the door. He was careful to keep a couple of inches worth of space between his hand and Dominic’s own on the door, making sure they wouldn’t touch by accident. “Ya could at least open it.”

Dominic gripped his car door tighter in preparation. “Like I said-” He jerked the door out of his partner’s hand while putting his key in the ignition. “I don’t want it.” Before the rooster could get the chance to try continuing the conversation, Dominic started the car, closed and locked the door, and drove away from the parking lot, leaving the frustrated looking chicken behind to glare after him.

Some would call Dominic’s attitude towards his partner unnecessarily harsh. Some would say he was putting up walls that didn’t need to be there. And some others (like Steelbeak himself) would say that he needed to remove the stick from his backside and loosen up a little.

To each and every one of those people, Dominic would simply say in return that they needed to shut it and mind their own business. They weren’t the ones that had to deal with Steelbeak and his constant barrage of unwarranted gifts that were, frankly, becoming a hassle to deal with.

Arriving at his apartment and opening the front door, he could instantly tell that something was…off. Not in the life-threatening “assassin hiding in the coat closet preparing to kill him (again)” way, more like the “someone was in here earlier and already left but he could still practically smell their high-dollar cologne” way.

Closing his eyes and taking a quick inhale confirmed Dominic’s theory. He took off his hat and coat, hanging them neatly in the foyer closet before following the now-familiar scent through his apartment.

Jasmine and roses in the front doorway.

Carnations, lavender, and lily of the valley in the living room.

Cedar and sandalwood as he passed the kitchen.

Tonka beans, musk, and a few assorted spices down the hallway.

Then, finally, the spicy final piece to that distinctive combination- red pepper, cloves, and black pepper- when he opened the door to his bedroom.

“Carrion Poivre.” Dominic stated as he scanned his bedroom for any anomalies. “There’s only one person I know with THAT taste in cologne.”

Then, he spotted it. Sitting like a flare in an empty street in the middle of the night, there it was- the silver present with the red bow, right on the foot of his bed on top of the black duvet.

To be even more exact, it was in the same spot he always sat down on when he got home while changing his clothes. The fact that Steelbeak knew THAT (there were no cameras in his home, he’d checked for them countless times by now) bothered him far more than how the present had wound up there in the first place- after all, they were spies, and stealing or leaving items behind in nearly unexplainable ways was part of their job description. He could already see the many possible ways it could have been done- Steelbeak could have taken a jet to beat him home, or he could have taken an underground tunnel, or “borrowed” some new teleportation technology from the lab, or the present before was just a fake and he’d already snuck in earlier to leave the real one there long before he entered the garage, or he could have hacked into the city’s traffic control system and delayed him with the ludicrously high number of red lights he’d run into on the way home-

Dominic stopped himself before his mind could continue conjuring up scenarios. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then let it out slowly. He was NOT going to let this get to him.

Walking over to the bed, he brushed the offending box aside so that he could continue his daily routine in peace.

He succeeded in ignoring the tacky silver paper-wrapped package for as long as it took him to change back into his regular every-day clothes. However, as he adjusted his shirt, he saw the metallic paper gleaming in the light and his curiosity finally got the better of him.

Picking the present up from where he’d knocked it over on the bed, Dominic untied the ribbon before neatly plucking open the sides of the wrapping paper without tearing it (the tape was hidden better this time- his skill at wrapping these was improving). With the paper gone, he saw an unmarked black jewelry box inside.

Opening the box revealed a watch. Not just any watch, he noted- a genuine Crowlex. It was part of their newer series that he’d seen advertised in some of his magazines recently, the oyster perpetual set. He had to admit, it was tastefully designed with its black metallic face, stainless steel band, and the myriad of diamonds all over the watch. It was nice, but more than a bit ostentatious for his liking, something he’d probably save for a classier event such as a black-tie party or-

No. That train of thought was stopping RIGHT THERE.

Getting up from his bed, Dominic walked over to his dresser and opened the third drawer on the right side- the one that his mind was beginning to label as “The Steelbeak Drawer”. Opening it revealed a plethora of equally expensive trinkets: Diamond studded cufflinks, a jewel encrusted tie-pin, an assortment of gold and silver rings, and a bottle of cologne studded all the way around with genuine Swanovski crystals.

Dominic placed the watch in the drawer next to the bottle of cologne before closing it again. He then gathered up the wrapping paper and ribbon, threw them away in the waste basket by his bed, and went about the rest of his day as if his partner hadn’t broken into his apartment just to leave a gift worth thousands of dollars on his bed in a vain attempt to buy his attention.

It wouldn’t work, anyway- he wouldn’t LET IT work.

Next Part->

End Notes: Kept the intro short since the second part’s a bit longer ^^” FYI- I’m setting all of these to post in the morning around the same time, but I’ll be going back and editing the links to each chapter once they’re up.

Also, sorry for all of the fancy brand puns, I just couldn’t resist xD

For anyone who didn’t get all of the item references, here: Carrion Poivre is a play on Caron Poivre- an expensive gender neutral perfume/cologne that costs about $1,000 an ounce and felt like something Steelbeak would use. Crowlex is obviously a play on Rolex, and the watch is a real one (though this video offers a better look at it). And finally, Swanovski crystals is a play on Swarovski crystals and they actually do make their own perfume/cologne line (ironically called Bond no. 9 xD).

#steelbeak #dominic domino #darkwing duck #dwd #thefriendlyfour

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skittymon · 7 years

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Escape

I haven’t written a fan fic since 2013 this au is ruining my life also sorry I’m rusty at writing.

Fusion xyz swap au

@clockworkspider mentioned in a post that since Leo is in xyz that’s means no doctor, which means no brainwashed bracelet girls which means jail break aw yeah.

When Serena receives her dinner at its usual six o clock time she doesn’t expect to see a piece of paper under her bowl of soup.

All the guards have a mandatory meeting tonight at 8. This will be your only time to escape until next month. The meeting should last about fifteen minutes and the key to your room is in the soup as longs as you haven’t devoured it on accident ;-D – Eagle One.

Serena lets out a sigh, “A clown as always….” Then she looks down at the note again and there’s more.

Also there’s another girl being held here like you. She’s being held three floors above you. If it isn’t too much of a hassle could you grab her too? I believe it would put a big dent into Leo’s plans.

Eventually as time passes Serena hears less and less footsteps wandering around the halls and soon enough it’s completely silent. She grabs the key from her pocket and reaches through the bars on her doors to find the keyhole. After a few moments Serena finally inserts the key in correctly and opens the door.

“Got it!” Serena says as she lets out the breath she was holding. She starts making her way towards the elevator when she remembers what else Dennis’ note said.

I don’t have time for that Serena thinks to herself as she waits for the elevator to arrive.

We need to stick together! Serena remembers Sora saying during one of their first missions together We – I can’t stand losing anymore comrades to the number hunters.

Dammit, Dennis and Sora (even Yuri) have made her way too soft. So when the elevator finally arrives she goes up instead of down.

You couldn’t give me a room number or something Dennis? Serena thinks as she scurries up and down the hallway looking for some clue to where this other girl is being held, but sadly all the doors in Heartland Tower look actually the same.

She could knock on every door but that would take too much time and would draw too much attention to herself. Serena looks down at her duel disk and 6:23 stares back her in bold red. “Dammit!” she curses aloud.

And then, “Hello? Is something going on? It’s been quiet for awhile now…”

Serena turns and runs toward the voice and suddenly she’s face to face to near perfect mirror image of herself. Both freeze for a moment then Serena’s green haired counterpart speaks up, “Is this some kind of joke? What’s going on!?”

Did Dennis know about this? Serena shakes her head. “Look I know about as much as you. I was being held downstairs but my friend was able to get me out and told me that there was someone I should get from this floor.”

The other girl takes a deep breath and nods, “Alright. Do you have the key to the door?”

“No, but I have my foot.”

0:00 Serena’s duel disk reads as she and her counterpart run out of Heartland tower. Her timer was most likely off so the guards will notice that they’re gone any moment now. Serena turns to her follow escapee, “Do you have your duel disk on you?”

“No,” the other girl answers, “they captured me when I didn’t have it with me.”

“Treason Discharge!”

Lighting appears before the two girls stopping them in their tracks. Both turn to see a large black dragon and the face of the man who brought them to the xyz dimension in the first place, the one who has the same face as Yuri.

The dark duelist.

“Please come back to the tower,” the dark duelist says as he slowly approaches the girls, “it’s dangerous out here, you’ll both be safe in the tower.”

Serena grits her teeth and activates the duel disk on her arm, “We wouldn’t be in danger if you hadn’t kidnapped us and brought us to the xyz dimension!”

“Xyz dimension?” Serena’s counterpart asks. “What does that even mean?”

Did the other girl not know about the four dimensions? Is her world not being attacked by the xyz scum? Is it like how the fusion dimension was before the war began?

The dark duelist shakes his head, “I was following orders. But it’s for the greater good! In time you’ll understand….”

“The greater good?” the green haired girl questions. “You stalked me for days until you chased after me in the middle of the night! Yugo must going out of his mind trying to figure out what happened to me!”

“Please,” the dark duelist’s eyes grow soft, “come back. I don’t want to fight you two. Not when you both look….”

Before Serena can grab a card and put it on her duel disk, a voice resounds above them.

“I send my D.D Esper Star Sparrow, Beast Warrior Pluma, Phoenix Beast Gairuda, and Ironhammer the Giant to my graveyard and special summon D.D Jet Iron!”

Then flying towards them is a red and silver rocket that appears to have someone riding it.

The rocket stops behind the girls and the duelist riding the rocket shouts, “Get on!”

Both girls glance at each other with surprise and worry in their eyes. The duelist speaks up once again, “Either you deal with him or you can come with me to somewhere safe.”

“You again?” the dark duelist spits out. “This is the last you get away from the number hunters.”

So he’s not one of the number hunters, Serena thinks, and honestly at this point that makes him okay in her book. Serena grabs her counterpart’s hand and both of them jump onto D.D Jet Iron.

“It was nice seeing you again, dark duelist!” The boy says. “But it’s time we get going. Hold on tight you two!”

D.D Jet Iron is faster than the dark duelist’s dragon and soon the three are flying above Heartland city. The wind roars all around Serena and she can’t open her eyes without squinting because of all the pressure and she can barely hear their recuse-er say, “Wow, he didn’t try to knock me out of the sky this time. He really must not want to hurt you two.”

“Thanks for saving us!” the green haired girl smiles and Serena doesn’t get how she can be speak and act normally with all this wind around them. Does she do something similar in her dimension? “My name’s Rin, who are you?”

The boy turns and smiles at them, “Well the number hunters know me as Robin but you can call me Fuya.”

“And where are we going?” Serena shouts, louder than necessary but she really can’t hear right now.

“To the resistance, of course!” Fuya answers. “Not every person in Heartland city agrees with the Professor and while we’re just a rag-tag team of duelist with our Teacher I believe we can finally make a difference!”

Sorry for the eh ending I didn’t know how to finish it.

I wrote this because A) BRACELET GIRLS INTERACTING B) I wanted to fuck with Leo’s plan (he’ll get them all back together when they go to attack him) C) LET RIN DO SOMETHING PLEASE

And with Fuya, I only ever watched like the first twenty episodes of Zexal (probably should go back and finish) so the only other duelist I know besides Yuma is Shark and I didn’t want it to be Shark since Synchro has Jack and Crow. Also with his personas I think it would make it harder for the number hunters to track Fuya, and since he’s an actor he’d get along great with Yusho.

Finally with a timeline, I don’t think Dennis would learn where Serena and Rin were until after Maimi championship because that’s when Ruri escapes and the only one who knew about bracelet girls prior to that is Yuto. So after discovering that Dennis digs around some and finds out where Serena and Rin are being held (no way in hell they just tell Dennis where Serena is even if they trust him). So by the time Serena and Rin escape Yuya and co are about to begin the friendship cup or whatever my opinion.

Also Dennis is at the meeting which is why he didn’t help Serena and Rin.

#yugioh arc v #arc v fanfic #fusion xyz swap au #arc v #serena arc v #rin arc v #fuya okudaira #I finally remembered why I stop writing fan fics #this took me longer than it should have I have the attention span of peanut #skitty rambles #yuto arc v #forgot to tag him opps #skitty writes

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