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damerondala · 3 years

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🍒 Okay tub time with Kix? 😗👌🏻 Exquisite. So good. Where do i find such a caring man ugh and a clean bathtub chores suck

New Cherry Thot of the Week… This one’s hella self-indulgent but don’t worry bestie, i’m dragging you along for the ride too… Picture it: The Marauder, 19 BBY (did i spend 3 minutes looking that up for this dumb joke? yeah…) Somehow, you and I have joined up with the Bad Batch on some kind of mission. Details don’t matter because the important thing is we’re sharing a tiny spaceship with 5 hunks. 🥰 But obvs we have our favorites… I’m going with Wrecker for you (i know you love Hunter too, but just hear me out, this thot has a purpose) and Crosshair for me.

But here’s the thing. We somehow figure out they like us back (maybe Tech spills the beans), AND they have a bet going… Who can win us over first? Because these 2 are always competing over something with each other right?

And like hot damn, but also ohh there’s so much we can do with this info 😈 We both start teasing our respective guys, leading them on a little, not giving in to their flirting or anything so they can’t say they’ve won the bet for a while. They get more frustrated. More… pent up… And… well… so do we…

Uh oh. Maybe we can’t play this much longer. Maybe one day it’s too much, and one of us races to our crush prepared to just kiss them silly, only to find they had the same idea. And then afterward we try to find the other, and discover they couldn’t hold out with their guy either 🙈 And maybe it’s awkward, maybe Wrecker and Crosshair argue over who actually won forever, but it was kinda weirdly fun anyway. We’re happy, and happy for each other. /EndofSappyStory 🍒

cherry. my love. my life.

this might be the best thing that you have ever gifted me holy fuck the way i BLUSHED while reading this??? whooooooo jesus i love this so much!!! 😭 okay lots to unpack here:

1. excellent golden girls reference again. made me giggle and i appreciate the research tech would be proud of u hehe

2. you and i being bffs in this thot made me so happy aw

3. EXCELLENT CHARACTER CHOICE FOR US OMFG i couldn't stop thinking about the "don't worry wrecker you'll top him next time" "no he wOnT" while reading bc omfg those lines applied to this kind of bet????? AAAAHHHHH IM HAVING A CRISIS

i'm gonna write this in sections, actual encounters with the boys happen in sections 3 and 4 with our sexy murder toothpick man being up first! also this is gonna be pre-omega but post-echo joining the batch

self indulgent filth and fluff in the form of some reader insert thots below ;)

18+ as always kiddies. i really hope you enjoy! this was so fun to write

section 1: the bet

so i imagine this happening right after you guys joined the squad

and it certainly didn't take long for crosshair and wrecker to realize their feelings for you two beautiful women, although one was more brazen about his feelings than the other

one day when hunter had sent you and your friend into a market to pick up a short list of supplies, they got to talking

crosshair made an offhand remark about his girls’ ass which made wrecker fidget, he never was very composed when it came to pretty girls and this caused all the other members of the batch share knowing looks and smirks

“wrecker if you’re trying to be discreet about your feelings for ___ you’re going to have to do stop fidgeting.” tech noted, rolling his eyes when wrecker started stuttering out excuses but he was cut off by echo

“give ‘im a break. at least he isn't as vulgar as crosshair”

“you’re just jealous she doesn't flirt with you, mir'osik” (i had to search up insults in mando’a and this one means shit for brains and when i tell you i died laughing okay anyways sorry)

this made echo roll his eyes, deciding it wasn't worth it to fight over whatever stupid insult the sniper threw at him

wanting to stir the pot juuust a bit, hunter proposed a challenge for his vod. he should be the good influence on his brothers, but he couldn't help but want to see where these crushes would take them

he could hear the girls’ heartbeats intensify around their respective crushes anyways, so he had a pretty good feeling that they felt the same about his batch mates

“don’t know about the rest of you, but i want to see who can win his girl over first” this was met with a smirk from crosshair, a blush from wrecker, and side glances shared between echo and tech

“easy.” crosshair drawled, he knew he had this in the bag

he may be quieter than the others but boy was he was observant, taking note of the way her words had a hard time flowing out of her pretty mouth when he was in close proximity of his girl

wrecker on the other hand didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, in his eyes she was just so sweet. innocent, really. she wouldn’t want the same treatment he knew crosshair had in mind for his girl

the peering eyes of his squad made the large man cave with a sigh, “fine.”

section 2: the slip up

weeks had gone by since the boys established their little competition and you, your friend, and tech were working on some small repairs around the ship

you and your friend had noticed some increased...flirting from your respective guys

crosshair paid more compliments and lingering touches that seemed genuine

and wrecker flirted the best way he knew how; lifting too heavy objects and reaching for items in the tall cargo holds, handing them down with a gentle smile

tech, being the most blunt member of the squad, commented on the whispers you exchanged, dropping a surprising truth on both of your ears:

“well of course they are trying to flatter you. how else do you settle a bet to win each of you over the fastest?”

tech watched the two women freeze before him, sharing shocked looks before turning their attention to him, realization hit his gut like a crate of durasteel, and he swallowed under your stern gazes

“what do you mean, goggles?”

“they...like us?”

tech’s cheeks burned red hot, was his brow beginning to sweat? maker, it felt like it

this was the one time he didn’t feel like explaining himself, instead choosing to coyly excuse himself from the two pairs of watchful eyes

he left you and your friend to stare at each other before both rolling your eyes, “well now we know who spills secrets the easiest” your friend chuckled, shaking her head

after a few moments of silence you both spoke up, deciding there wasn’t that much harm in playing along with the two members of the batch. you were fond of them, after all

you both continued chuckling about the situation, mostly out of disbelief that the flirting and teasing wasn’t just a hopeful facade your minds made up

once the repairs were completed, you both retired to opposite ends of the ship, minds full of deliberation of how you would handle this new information

section 3: the gunport

you were sat in the gunport, musing the situation you found yourself in, hands picking at your fingernails in an effort to curb your nerves

on one hand you didn’t want to ruin the bond you had with the marksman

what if he was just flirting out of pure boredom? there isn’t much to do in a confined ship like this anyways, he might as well pass the time flirting with a woman in his general vicinity

but it just had to mean something

no way the whispered compliments - most of them accompanied with a wink, no less - meant absolutely nothing to him

you decided that you had enough, this was going to eat you alive if you didn't get to the bottom of what was going on in that head of his

with a huff, you stood straight and turned around to exit the space

but you were met with a silver haired man climbing up the ladder

you both froze, both internally freaking out at the basically forced confrontation

oh gods what is he doing up here? did he read my mind??

...shit what do i do i forgot everything i was going to say to her

you nervously chuckled, figuring that you were going to go talk to him anyways so might as well get this over with

“crosshair... um i need to ask you something”

“no, i need to tell you something cyar’ika. i’m tired of sitting here and watching you walk around all day, not being able to show you how i feel.”

now that left you speechless, mouth slightly hanging open in shock to which he deeply chuckled at, “hope this isn't the first time i leave you speechless.”

there it was, that smug attitude that made you roll your eyes but also ignited a heat in your lower abdomen

with a smirk, you decided to play it back to him. two can play at this game, lanky

“well it’d be pretty rude to not demonstrate what you had in mind, trooper”

this was the green light crosshair needed, quickly heaving himself up the last few rungs of the ladder, his hands immediately finding your waist and snatching you close, pressing a firm kiss to your lips

your hands flung up to catch the sides of his sharp cheeks, humming at the feel of his scruff under your palms as you coyly push your tongue through his lips, hoping he’ll welcome your tongue into his mouth

he does, and you are exploring each other in the most delicious way, causing soft moans and sighs to leave both of you

while you were entranced by crosshair’s mouth on yours, you didn't realize he was pushing you back onto the chair of the gunport until you were sat down and he was kneeling in between your legs, his nimble fingers clutching your thighs and hips

in a matter of minutes crosshair had managed to get your bottoms completely off, your slick panties hooked on one ankle, and your thighs over his shoulders

for a man who could run his mouth, he sure proved it

expert fingers entered your weeping cunt while his tongue prodded your bundle of nerves with sharp, quick strokes

he’s beaming at the way you’re trying to support yourself on shaky arms and trapping his head to your cunt with the backs of your calves, the sight of your head thrown back and the whimpers coming out of your mouth making him harder than he had been in a looong time

his fingers and mouth brought to your orgasm quick and hard, nearly screaming his name as your toes curled in bliss

he took his time in working you through it, making sure he could draw it out. he could get used to this.

when you can finally open your eyes and look him in the eye, you’re kissing him again, enjoying the moan he lets out at the feel of your tongue tasting yourself on him

you decide it’s his turn, and you’re pushing him into your previous spot, smiling at the way his eyes slightly widen at the way you took charge

crosshair wants to say some sexy remark, something that he knows will get you to sheepishly smile and look away but he can’t, not with the sight of you sinking down to your knees and slowly pulling down his blacks, keeping eye contact and granting him a playful glint in your eye

you can't help but want to tease him just a bit, running your tongue over the bulge in his blacks

he tries his hardest to not be loud but maker, is he loud when you finally take him into your mouth and down your throat

you’ve quickly found that he enjoys eye contact while in this vulnerable state, nearly shaking when he sees your eyes brimming with tears trying not to choke on his length

one hand sneaking down to alternate cupping his balls is what pulls him over the edge, crying out with your name living on his tongue

you swallow his release, again utilizing eye contact to your benefit and drawing out another prolonged moan from him

it makes you smile in pride, loving how this hard, unyielding man turned into such a mess while you had your way with him

crosshair pats his lap and expectantly looks at you, waiting for you to perch up onto his lap, straddling him

despite being a skinnier guy, crosshair wraps you up in the warmest, most secure-feeling snuggle you have honestly ever experienced

after sharing such an intimate moment with you, he began whispering sweet nothings into your ear, about how gorgeous he thinks you are, how much he cares for you

it’s honestly kind of shocking but welcome nonetheless, cross can be kind when he wants to and you are very glad that this was the outcome of your dancing around each other for months

section 4: the interruption

you retreated back to your room, honestly just wanting to sleep and get your mind off the day

it was becoming harder and harder to not just pounce on wrecker, but you didn't want to just give it up so quickly

and to be honest, you had a bad feeling that tech was full of it

you struggled with self esteem issues for as long as you could remember, so it was difficult to believe the 'genious’ of the batch when he said that wrecker had feelings for you

despite your trepidations, your mind couldn't stop thinking about him, his broad shoulders, toned arms, huge thighs...

your hand slithered down your torso, slipping underneath the waist band of your bottoms and slowly circling your clit as images of wrecker effortlessly lifting anything that crossed his path filled your mind, honestly wishing it was you he was lifting

perhaps lifting you to brush your pussy on his nose, his tongue exploring your womanhood enough to make you shout his name

but apparently that last part was not all in your head

although you didn't shout it, wrecker definitely heard the way you whispered out his name in a moan in the dark room

he really hadn’t meant to barge in, but after a few knocks with no answer he began to worry

he came by to tell you how he felt with absolutely no expectation of sleeping with you. truthfully, he gave up on trying to get into your pants, he was willing to lose the bet with crosshair, he knew he wasn’t as smooth as his brother anyways

while he obviously would never be opposed to making love with you, he figured that you deserved to be courted beforehand, and he thought there was no way you’d want to share your body in such an intimate way with somebody like him

but the sight he was greeted with was enough to prove himself wrong

you, spread out on your bed with your hand moving diligently under your thin lounge shorts and you moaning his name made him subconsciously let out a loud gasp

that you absolutely heard, eyes snapping open and hand coming to an abrupt halt, ripping out from under your bottoms

“wr-wrecker! what are you doing here?!”

“i- uhhh- i didn’t see anything! erm, i'm sorry, mesh’la”

by now you had your blankets covering you, despite being fully clothed, and were looking at him with mortified eyes

wrecker still stood in the doorway, unsure if he should let this opportunity pass him by

if you had told him to leave he would, he’d do anything you said, but the fact that you made no move to force him into leaving made him linger

“i'm...sorry if im overstepping mesh’la but i just- i can't stop thinking about you. and well,” he gestured to your form, still cradling the blankets to your heaving chest, “i think you think about me too”

of course you couldn't deny it, he had just seen you pleasuring yourself and moaning his name, what the hell kind of excuse could you come up with? none, that's what

his sheepishness made your heart soar, realizing he probably was just as nervous as you

deciding to cut him some slack, you slowly rose up, blanket falling to the ground as you sauntered over to his frozen frame

whispering, “you're right. do- do you want to stay?”

you had the poor man at a loss for words, eagerly nodding at your proposition and allowing you to take his hand and lead him to your bed, pushing him down so you could straddle his lap

his large cock bulging through the thin fabric of his blacks and pushing against your already hot cunt made you cry out

pure adrenaline coursed through both of you, hushed moans leaving your mouths as you steadily ground down onto him, his hand tangled in your hair and the other kneading your breast

your lips broke away from his mouth and you smirked at the look on his face, absolutely fucking giddy that this was finally happening, he had been dreaming about this moment since he first saw you

the sounds he made while you sucked on the sensitive skin of his neck encouraged you to slip a small hand down the front of his blacks and pull his thick cock out, heat flooding your body at the hiss he let out when you started slowly jacking him off

your legs were in the perfect position for him to push your shorts down and over your ass, fingers picking up where you left off and circling your clit, working you open to take one of his massive fingers

the more you squeezed his throbbing shaft, the louder wrecker became

and not wanting anybody to hear you two fooling around, you glued your mouth to his, tongues mingling in heat

the excitement of the entire situation made it not last very long overall, but you both had intense orgasms regardless

wrecker curled his - now two - fingers inside you just right, and your continued squeezes and strokes of his cock made him finish, his cum coating your palm

both of you were shaking, muffled groans and gasps filled the room until you were coming down from your simultaneous orgasms

after coming back down to the moment, wrecker chuckled and flopped down on his back, bringing you with him to crash onto his chest

you both giggled like a couple of smitten teenagers who were experiencing their first love, relishing in the butterflies in your stomachs, we just did that

“been waiting a long time to do that, doll” wrecker’s big hands rubbed up and down your curves, closing his eyes and smiling at your laugh, “i know”

his head shot up at that, “you know?” the way his eyebrows furrowed up made your chest tighten with admiration, smiling cheekily down at him, “of course i do. tech told us gals.” you leaned down to place a peck on his chin, “you think you won the bet?”

“dunno. but I feel like i just won the entire galaxy.”

it honestly didn't make much sense in your post-orgasm daze, but the endearing tone made you smile and kiss him once again

section 5: the hallway

after your respective encounters with your boys, you ran to your friend, bumping into her in the hallway, the tight space echoing your giggles and shrieks of excitement throughout the entire ship

you both were so flustered and giddy that you were talking over each other, just needing to tell her about what just happened

“i just sucked-”

“you will not believe-”

you both stopped and laughed even harder, holding onto each other for support, then your friend took a deep breath and smiled, “you first.”

the sounds emitted from you two not only made your boys smile and their chests swell with pride but also coerced some chuckles from the other members of the batch

they all knew how long these...events were in the making and how eager cross and wrecker were becoming

and in all honesty they were glad their brothers had found happiness in two girls like yourselves

nice, funny, and obviously in love with their brothers

they really could’t have asked for better women to take care of their family

taglist! (fill out this if you’d like to be added):

@djarrex, @pastelpanda19, @rebelpitstop, @sageislostinspring, @shiny-mando

#ily babycakes hope you liked this #thank you for giving me such incredible thots #you're the best #🍒 anon

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bffsoobin · 4 years

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Windflower

01| 02|03|04|05|06

↳ after a heartbreak you find yourself in a small town looking for purpose. you find employment with Choi Soobin and his impressive ancestral home. when you start to fall in love again, there’s no way for you to predict what you find in the depths of the home and Soobin’s mind.

➤ hanahaki au, fluff, angst

Word Count: 2,438

Warnings: Light swearing, Soobin being a cutie pie, me not proofreading. I think that’s it??

A/N: This does include the writing that was part of the preview post I made, but it is the first official chapter of Windflower! Please know that genre and warnings will change with every chapter I post! I also don’t quite have an upload schedule, sorry about that!! Hope you all enjoy nonetheless!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

Your car groaned in protest as you turned into the parking lot of the quaint diner. Giving the dashboard two loving yet harsh hits with the palm of your hand seemed to do the trick. Now silent, the beat up blue car seemed to quietly thank you as you settled between the white painted lines of a parking space and shut off the engine. It was a gray, overcast day but humidity hung in the air wherever you went, making your hair puffy and the back of your legs stick to the cracking leather of your driver’s seat. Heaving a sigh at the uncomfortable stickiness, you pulled down the mirror from the roof of your car to survey the reflection staring back at you.

It’s a startling thing, to look at yourself in a mirror and barely recognize your face. Your skin was dull and starting to break out, the bags under your eyes had seemingly never been more prominent than they were in this moment. Your fingers danced over the darkened skin, wondering at what point of your trip you began to look so worn down. Was it the moment you left your apartment? The twelve hours of mindless driving with no destination in mind? Or had this degeneration begun the moment you found yourself completely alone in life?

You snapped the mirror back up against the roof and rubbed your hands over your face. Mindlessly, you pushed through the items littering your passenger seat until you clasped the familiar quilted fabric of your wallet. As soon as you stood up outside of your car, a wave of dizziness sent you grasping at the top of your car for support. You needed food more than you had originally estimated. Your legs were still a bit shaky from disuse as you walked toward the small white building. Portions of the paint had peeled off in jagged strips to expose the tightly stacked brown bricks waiting underneath. The simple clear door displayed a sun-faded open sign with handwritten hours of operation. As soon as you pushed the door open, the smell of grease and fresh apple pie invaded your senses and your face involuntarily shrunk up in disgust. Another thick paper sign attached on a tarnished metal stand boasted a cheerful cursive that read “Please Seat Yourself!” You could hear a radio playing faintly from somewhere in the building.

Almost every booth in the rectangular dining area was vacant, save for one elderly couple sharing a plate of fries. The floor was sticky under your feet as you made your way to a booth, and whether the texture was a result of the humidity or a lack of cleaning, you couldn’t tell. Sliding into the booth was familiar, almost comforting as you thought back to all of the times you had slid into booths with your friends at dinner, or slid yourself into a booth at the coffee shop near your apartment to work on a paper. Well. Your old apartment. The thought of adjusting to past tense created a scowl on your face as an unsuspecting waitress approached your side. She cleared her throat and caught your attention. To your surprise, she was fairly young, maybe in her late 30s; and she stood in her bright blue blouse and skirt uniform with a cock to her hip and a serving tray tucked under her arm.

“Hi, hun. My name is Melissa, what can I get ya?” the woman’s tone was deceivingly cheerful, given the slow restaurant and heavy air. You heaved a sigh and looked down at the thin paper menu. It wilted in your hand as you picked it up and you soon abandoned the idea of even trying to read through it.

“Hi. A vanilla milkshake and fries, please.” The order was so simple that Melissa didn’t even write it down, just nodded and turned to head into the kitchen to relay your order. A dull buzz warned you of the beginning of a headache but you expertly pushed the feeling aside and decided to ask for a glass of water when she came with your order. Mindlessly, you began searching your phone for places to stay in the tiny town you had stumbled upon. This hadn’t been the kind of place you expected to end up for the summer, but you were never one to plan anything. Enthralled in your scrolling through motel listings, Melissa scared you as she set your order down in front of you. She caught a look at your phone and your face flushed in embarrassment. How much of an obvious tourist could you be? You asked for a glass of water in an attempt to shoo her away, but when she came back with a glass covered in condensation she didn’t leave.

“Not from around here?” it was a rhetorical question, but you gave her props for trying to ease you into the conversation. You shook your head, not really caring to elaborate on where you came from as you shoved a few fries into your mouth.

“I don’t usually talk to customers like this, but; well, we’re dead today and I saw you looking at places to stay on your phone. I don’t recommend any of them. Especially not to a young pretty girl like you. Most of them are way too pricey for their rooms. And the Moonlight motel is literally run by a druglord. He’d gobble you up,” she shivered at her own words.

“Well, where should I stay, then? Unless I missed a Best Western on the way in, I don��t have many other choices,” you deadpanned, hoping to hide the nervousness that was rising in your stomach. If you didn’t stay here, where would you go? But then again, why do you want to stay here so bad in the first place? You took a slurp of your milkshake as you contemplated.

“Look, it’s sort of a town secret, but you remind me of my niece, so I’ll just tell you now. There’s this estate- gated, two story house, old timey stuff, gorgeous garden” Melissa waved her hands around as she spoke, chipped red fingernails putting on a show of their own. “It’s called the Flower House, actually. It’s been passed from generation to generation, since the town was founded. The boy who owns it now is just about your age, but he’s been living there alone since his cousin moved away for college years ago. He’s a lovely boy, we love when he comes into town, it just isn’t often.” you raised your eyebrows at her, trying to figure out how this mysterious boy and his ancestral house had anything to do with your housing predicament. “Long story short, he came around a few weeks ago looking for anyone who would be willing to help him keep the house and yard clean. No pay, but it’s free living in a beautiful home. And he’s not bad looking either.” she winked suggestively. “If you want, I can give you the address and you can go talk to him?”

You looked into her eyes, sparkling with hope of giving you a helping hand. “Okay, yeah. Sure, what have I got to lose?” Melissa hurried away to get writing materials as you continued eating with renewed vigor.

As Melissa cleared your minimal dishes away, she set a ripped piece of paper in front of you that simply read;

“Choi Soobin, 476 Gardenia Dr.”

After paying and being sure to leave your helpful waitress a generous tip, you hopped back in your car and began your journey to discover the mysterious Flower House.

The drive through town was oddly peaceful, even with the grumbling of your car to accompany you alongside the pop songs on the radio. Air whipped into your windows as you drove by houses, small restaurants and one single chain grocery store where everyone seemed to be shopping. Stopping at an intersection with a single blinking stoplight, your phone instructed you to turn left. You passed the town’s schools, elementary and highschool; all huddled onto one campus with a large parking lot separating the two. The electric sign posted reminders of the last day of school for the students as you sped by. The farther you got away from the school, the older the houses became. Some were rotting apart, others covered in creeping vines. The street gradually slanted upwards as you continued to drive towards your destination. At the end of Gardenia Drive stood a towering home with a multitude of windows circling the entire building. A large chimney stood out on the top, one of the only signs of the home’s age; as the outside was wonderfully kept. The most impressive feature was of course the garden, for which the house gained its nickname. Your mouth hung open as you tried to fathom the sheer amount of flowers that were in full bloom on the front lawn. Blues, pinks, purples, reds and whites all stitched together in a beautiful quilt of florals. Some ivy was growing up the old wrought iron gates and the trunks of a few towering trees. While the growth made other houses look dated and worn down, the ivy here only added to the elegance that took your breath away. With your car parked on the road right outside, you exited your car to approach the gates.

Fumbling with your hands, you navigated over the brick path leading up to the intimidating 10 foot tall gates. Despite the obvious history of the metal, a modern doorbell buzzer and camera system was installed just to the left of the entrance. It was harder than you’d like to admit to raise the courage for pressing the button. Your mind blanked as you performed the action, not knowing what to expect. A voice crackled through the speakers and made you jump.

“Who’s there?” a smooth voice inquired. Suddenly you were unsure of what to say.

“I, uh. I’m Y/N. A waitress at Russ’ Diner told me to come talk to you about an um.” your mouth was suddenly going dry. “A living arrangement?” A small exclamation of understanding was music to your ears.

“Okay! Hold on, I’ll be right over to the gate!” The static disappeared with the voice. You looked down at your phone out of habit and realized you had no reception. Figures, as you were sort of in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t matter right now anyway. You put the device in the back pocket of your shorts just as the gate began creaking open and welcoming you onto the property. You could faintly make out the shape of a body making its way toward you through the dense trees.

When he stepped into your line of sight, sunshine managed to peek through the thick blanket of clouds that had been permeating your entire visit and bask him in a wash of gold. He was tall, with long legs covered in the material of light wash skinny jeans. The knees were a bit dirty, and you recognized the stains as a mix of grass and dirt. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt that clung perfectly to his wide shoulders and showed off his defined waist.

Not only was he dressed in a way you definitely didn’t expect, but his looks threw you even farther into surprise. His face was evenly tanned, and not a single blemish could be found. Suddenly, you became all too aware of the dismal state of your own complexion and fought the urge to bring a hand up to cover your face from him. Dark, hooded eyes examined your form as you stood awkwardly on the path and waited for his next words. He seemed amused by your lack of introduction, and chuckled a little as he asked, “Y/N?”

Hearing your name broke the spell that his beauty had put you under and you nodded. His face lit into a smile as he beckoned you further onto the land with a waving hand. You followed him closely and caught his words as they floated in the wind back to you. “I’m Soobin. This house belonged to my great-great-great uncle and his wife. Well, wives.” He chuckled to himself as he led you into a gazebo. Soobin settled into one of the wooden chairs situated around a matching table and gestured for you to sit in the one across from him. A pit of nervousness built in your stomach at the close proximity between the two of you. The table was only three feet wide, and Soobin’s long leg stretched in front of him and decreased your distance even more. Up close, you could see the permanent upturn of the corners of his mouth, and the sparkle in his brown eyes.

His honey brown hair ruffled in the breeze that passed you by and he closed his eyes at the feeling for a moment. “So,” he began suddenly, “you were at Russ’? Who sent you my way for the job?” He clasped his hands together and rested his chin on the new structure. He blinked owlishly as you took a deep breath.

“Yeah, I just came into town for the summer. Melissa served me and she told me that all of the motels here are pretty shit,” Soobin laughed and nodded at that, and your heart skipped a beat. “So she gave me your info. Said you might be able to give me a better place to stay if I helped you out.”

“Ah, I see. Melissa is right, though. Those motels are awful. I definitely wouldn’t want to see you staying there.” He appraised your face for a second while he paused. “If you want the job, it’s yours.” He stated as if it were the most casual thing in the world. You sputtered.

“Wait, what? That quick? You don’t even know anything about me! I could be a murderer!” He laughed openly at you now, and the sound stirred an emotion in your stomach you hadn’t felt in months.

“Well, are you? A murderer?”

“No! Of course not.” Soobin nodded and crossed his arms over his chest.

“So, can you clean? Cook a decent meal? Drive to the city for groceries? Water some plants?” You nodded at every question he raised and watched as his smile upticked more with every bob of your head.

“Then you’re perfect. Welcome to the Flower House.” He stood, frame towering over your still sitting being and offered you a strong looking hand. Ticking his head toward the massive home behind him, he grinned. “Tour?”

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every-kirishima-eijirou · 4 years

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The Beauty of Red Riot’s Origin Story: Episode 72 Analysis (LONG POST AHEAD)

Well, here we are! I’ve been waiting ages to watch this episode, and now, it’s finally done, and I am more than happy with how it turned out. I’ve seen it in both Japanese and English, back to back, and both Toshiki Masuda and Justin Cook knocked their performances out of the park, and the emotion conveyed in their voices only made our boy’s origin story that much more emotional. But WHY is it so emotional? What makes such a seemingly ordinary backstory have such an impact on a viewer? (Especially viewers like, you know, US). Well, this is the purpose of this lil analysis here, so let us explore how Kirishima’s backstory contributes so nicely to his character. (Disclaimer: Manga screencaps are not my translation).

Let’s start from the beginning:

This panel shows us what we already knew to begin with: Our boy Kirishima is good-natured, stands up for others, and has strong, manly convictions. Nothing special, really, and the revelation that he was like this long before he entered UA is a great foundation for his character. In that regard, he has a similar foundation to Deku, but what differs is their struggles. Now, we know Deku grew up without a quirk in a society where quirks have been thoroughly normalized, but what does Kirishima struggle with, if anything? Is that even possible, what with him being so outgoing and boisterous?

As it turns out: yes. It’s VERY possible. This is where we see that our Red Riot is not as infallible as we may have thought. Yes, Deku had a hard time growing up without a quirk, and while Kirishima was born with a quirk just like most others, he grew up being ashamed of it, which if you think about it is a lot worse in some ways. Quirks are hereditary, and for many people, including Kirishima, quirks are also an important part of one’s own identity. This can inspire feelings of depression and even envy towards people with “better” quirks, like Mina. In contrast with Kirishima’s more traditional view of heroism and chivalry, Mina has a flashy quirk and bubbly personality, which is really effective for diffusing the situation with the bullies. This is where Kirishima’s manliness fails him, and no, not because he got shown up by a girl (thank GOD for that). It’s because heroism in the “modern” age favors heroes who can provide entertainment. Someone who’d be right at home in, say, the idol industry (like Mina). According to his friends, Kirishima’s hardening quirk, which he sees as boring, would not fly in today’s society. Now, Kirishima doesn’t care so much about what his peers think of him, but he’s still ashamed of his quirk, so he trains to harden his body and spirit, both literally and figuratively:

Also much like Deku, Kirishima has his own hero he looks up to: Crimson Riot. He serves as Kirishima’s main source of inspiration. It’s where he gets his hardline traditionalism from, and also how he copes with having a quirk he sees as “boring”. Again, this is where he and Deku differ. Deku looks up to All Might in a fanboyish sort of way, which inspired him to strive to be a hero as well. Kirishima, on the other hand, not only sees Crimson Riot as an inspiration to be heroic, but also because they have similar quirks. It’s only natural for a child who’s been conditioned be ashamed of something they can’t help. It’s something I can personally relate to as someone who struggled a lot with sexuality as a teenager, and something many others can surely relate to as well. This makes our boy an effective source of inspiration as well.

However, no matter how hard he trains, both physically and mentally, Kirishima still can’t train himself to not feel fear. It’s only natural for ordinary people to feel fear. After all, fear was what kept humans alive back when they were just starting out. Still, this goes against all of Kirishima’s ideals of what being a hero means. Sure, he has no problem standing up to some regular school bullies, but unlike him, Mina didn’t hesitate to act when her friends were cornered by a 30-foot tall villain in the street. She’s a prime candidate for UA, so what chance does he have of getting in if he can’t stand up to a literal supervillain?

So, he gives up on his dreams of getting into UA. He didn’t act when it mattered. That was it for him. Even worse, the incident where Deku saved Bakugou from the slime monster made headlines. It was good that Horikoshi showed how this affected Kirishima, who was totally uninvolved, because it makes you think of what exactly that implies. After that incident, Deku was miraculously given a powerful quirk by All Might. Maybe if Kirishima were the protagonist, he would have been so lucky, but that’s not the case (more on this later). Despite this, Crimson Riot blesses Kirishima in a more indirect sense:

In his frustration, Kirishima throws a book against the wall, and coincidentally, this hologram-looking thing of Crimson Riot starts playing, and it’s exactly what he needs to hear. As he listens, Kirishima realizes that not even Crimson Riot is immune to fear, but he copes with it by telling himself that failing to save someone because you didn’t do anything is far worse than charging in and giving it your best shot. That way, he can live his life without regret, which is, from then on, what Kirishima strives to do.

Finally, with a fresh motivation to get into his dream school, our boy pulls through (and gets 2nd place in the entrance exams!). To commemorate this, Kirishima dyes his hair and vows to leave his past behind him, and Red Riot as we know him today was born.

This should surprise absolutely nobody, but Kirishima’s is my favorite backstory in the whole series, and to conclude this lil essay, I’m going to explain why. As I said before, his backstory is something a lot of people can resonate with. Feeling shame and self-doubt is something many people go through, and it’s prevalent with people who have conditioned themselves to feel ashamed of something beyond their control. Coming to terms with my bisexuality was a struggle for me, so I can definitely relate indirectly.

This ties into the SYMpathy vs EMpathy argument. A lot of backstories in My Hero Academia, or even media in general, are tragic in a way that not everyone can relate to (not criticism, just observation). Let’s take Todoroki, for example: he was essentially quirk-bred by his father and was abused by him, being trained to the point of overexertion. On top of that, his mother gave him the scar over his left eye, and he has carried that trauma with him his whole life. Not everyone had such a toxic upbringing, but Todoroki sure did, and many people feel sorry for him. In other words, they sympathize. Kirishima, to contrast, had a much healthier upbringing, but has a lot of internalized self-esteem issues that everyone can relate to (or empathize with). While sympathy is the capacity to feel sorry for someone, empathy is the capacity to UNDERSTAND someone. Don’t get me wrong, tragedy is often a crucial element to a story’s narrative (if it’s done well), but it’s sometimes more cathartic for the viewer to see a character overcome more everyday struggles, especially if they can understand them on a fundamental level.

The last argument I will make goes back to what I was saying about Kirishima not being the protagonist, and I think if he WERE, his origin story would not be nearly as impactful. One might say that Kirishima embodies the more stereotypical “hot-blooded” shonen protagonist than Deku does, and I agree to some extent. However, it works better for him to be a supporting character. In most shonens (like Naruto), the protagonist’s backstory is established right away, and as such, the viewer always sees their character in the context of what they were like in the past (we get it STOP SHOWING US THE FUCKING SWING--) In Kirishima’s case, his backstory comes into play much later, and by that point, we are already so familiar with his Red Riot persona that the revelation that he wasn’t always so eager and optimistic hits that much harder, and seeing how it contrasts with Kirishima as we know him in the present feels more rewarding. Yes, we get to see bits and pieces of it early on, like when he feels inadequate after meeting Tetsutetsu and seeing that their quirks are nearly identical, but seeing those feelings fully presented in his backstory only serves to drive that home. In short, we see, at a glance, how far he’s come since then, instead of being forced to watch the whole process from start to finish, and it works really well.

Another common trend among shonen protagonists, as I said before, is their tendency to be blessed with miraculous new abilities to make them special (and that includes Deku). Obviously, that didn’t happen with Kirishima. He had no pro-hero mentor to guide him, nor an all-powerful booster quirk to bolster his hardening abilities. He got to where he did through sheer perseverance and hard work, with only his idol’s words to keep pushing him forward. While Deku also had to work hard to get to where he is, fortune was on his side, and the fact that Kirishima pulled himself up by his bootstraps (so to speak) is, to me, a lot more admirable.

And THAT, my friends, is the core of why Kirishima means so much to me as a character, and even if he doesn’t become the #1 hero in the story, he’s my personal #1 hero. So, on that note, thank you for all your support, and as always...Stay sturdy!

tl;dr I FUCKING LOVE KIRI SO MUCH YOU GUYS

#admin talks #essay #episode 72 #kirishima eijirou

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gingerwritess · 5 years

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Broken Beds

Summary: (Loki x reader) You and your husband kinda sorta accidentally broke your bed one crazy night. You leave it up to Loki to tell Tony the problem and get a new bed, but his version of what happened doesn’t quite match yours.

Warnings: buckets of fluff and a schiza-ton of implied smut eheh my favorite

A/N: Day 1 of the 12 days of Christmas! Oh this one was so fun. Fluffy Loki = happy me. Also this post is apparently not showing up in the tags or searches?? I’m so upset, I worked so so hard on this and it took me forever to get it done and I’m so proud of it :(

Your comments make me inexplicably happy!

Head over to @picassho-18 for tomorrow’s 12 days post!! Hope you all enjoy!

“You tell Tony.”

“Oh, hell no. He’s never going to let us live this down.” You shook your head profusely, crossing your arms.

Loki sighed. “I can’t explain this, I have a reputation to uphold.”

The bed was ruined. The mattress had snapped in the middle, bending in a most unnatural way, and one of the feet holding the bed up had splintered, making the whole bed tilt to one side.

“That was such a bad idea,” you groaned, running a hand tiredly over your face.

Loki chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist to turn you to face him. “I must admit though, it was such fun. I regret nothing.”

You couldn’t help but smile, then gave him your best, most irresistible pout. “Yeah, but now we have to explain this to Tony…”

With an exasperated sigh, Loki gave in. “Fine. I’ll tell him.”

————————————————————

Uh oh. Tony was storming down the stairs heading straight toward you as you stood in the kitchen. Loki trailed in behind him, giving you a guilty smile.

That’s never a good sign.

“You broke the fucking bed?!” The utter astonishment in Tony’s voice brought a cringe to your face.

“Yeah… about that,” you began, holding up your hands in surrender. Tony cut you off with a hysterical cackle of laughter, looking back and forth between you and Loki.

“How… how?” He roared, clutching his stomach as he doubled over with laughter. “How hard do you have to be fucking to break the bed?! I mean,” he panted, “I thought I was crazy in bed. This, this is other-worldly.”

“Wait, what? What are you…” you started to say, but after a glance at Loki’s growing devious grin, everything clicked.

Oh, he did NOT. That liar.

“Hmm, yes, certainly out of this world.” You threw Loki a death glare, deciding to just play into Tony’s idea of what happened. “What else do you expect from an Asgardian?”

Loki winked at you, pecking your lips as he walked past. “Technically a frost giant, darling. Don’t forget.”

Tony was practically crying with laughter now, leaning on the counter for support.

“How could I forget?” You groaned, throwing the towel you were holding on the counter. “So will you get us another bed or not?”

Wiping his eyes, Tony nodded. “Fine, fine, I will. If I don’t, you’d just end up breaking through the floor too! I gotta go tell Strange, he’s gonna die when he hears this...” Still laughing, he finally left you in the kitchen, your blood positively boiling and eyes shooting daggers.

Taking a deep breath and counting down from ten to calm your temper, you stormed out of the kitchen to find Loki.

The little shithead was skimming the bookshelves in the library, purposely not turning around to greet you as you stomped in. You grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face you, smacking his chest playfully.

“That’s not what happened, you nasty prick! I have a reputation to uphold too, you know. And you telling the rest of the team that I am your absolutely sex-crazed, insane plaything is not helping.”

Just to further get on your nerves, he grinned down at you. “Oh, you’re not that? Then please, tell me what you are.”

“Your wife?? Who just so happens to know that that is not AT ALL what happened last night, oh mighty king,” you said sarcastically, faking a dramatic bow.

Loki scowled at your mocking, grabbing a book off the shelf and striding past you. “Careful, darling. If I remember correctly, I was the one who won last night, was I not?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms firmly with a set jaw. “You cheated. So your ‘victory’ doesn’t mean shit to me.”

“Oh please. You’re just a sore loser,” he chuckled, and with that, he strode past you, using the book in his hand to smack your ass on the way out.

(The night before…)

You laid on the bed on your stomach, legs dangling off the edge, typing furiously on a laptop. In walked your husband, clearing his throat to alert you of his presence. You hummed a greeting, too engrossed in your writing to do anything more.

Loki stopped as he was walking past the bed to kiss the top of your head and waited for you to acknowledge him, but… you just kept typing. “That’s it? No kiss?” He asked with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Uh-uh. Later,” you grunted, eyes not leaving your screen. He sighed and trudged away, and in a few seconds you heard the shower start from your bathroom.

You kept typing. Ideas were actually flowing for your story, so you couldn’t stop now. Minutes later, Loki walked out of the bathroom in nothing but a loose pair of sweats resting low on his hips, wet hair tousled and dripping down his back. That got you to look up from your computer - you couldn’t help it. He looked delectable, you couldn’t deny.

“You didn’t join me,” he quipped. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed.”

“Sorry babe, I’m on a roll right now. Just let me finish this, couple more minutes.”

——————

“It’s been seven minutes, Y/N. A couple is two.” Loki flopped down on the bed beside you, shaking the whole bed. Gritting your teeth, you leaned closer to the screen. “Almost… done…”

“I haven’t even gotten a proper ‘hello’ from you yet,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

Wow. This side of Loki always made you laugh, knowing you were the only one who gets to see him desperate for attention and pouting if he doesn’t get it.

His hand started wandering up and down your back, sliding under your thin shirt to lightly brush your (unfortunately) extremely ticklish sides. Trying to stifle your laughter, you flinched away from his hands which only encouraged him to continue.

“Close the computer,” he murmured in your ear, tickling you even harder as he watched you struggle.

“No! S-stop it,” you laughed, squirming under his touch. That only egged him on, and soon you couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard. You slammed your laptop shut, reached behind you to grab a pillow, then swung it down hard on Loki’s head.

Bad idea.

Loki froze as soon as the pillow hit him, his dangerously flashing eyes slowly coming up to meet yours. “Look who’s finally paying attention,” he taunted, reaching for his own pillow.

“Heh, sorry… pillow fight?” You gulped under his unwavering, threatening gaze.

“Prepare for war, darling.” His ever-widening grin worried you. Then he smacked you across the face with his pillow.

Absolute chaos ensued, your shrieks of laughter filling the room as you pummelled each other with pillows. You were quite the experienced pillow fighter since you’d been having pillow fights since childhood, but Loki caught on quick enough. He kept throwing them at you while you tried to swing yours at him, forcing you to stay in one place and just block his assaults. Sick of his ceaseless attacking, you lunged forward, knocking him backward and landing on top of him.

You both paused for a moment, your hands on his bare chest, breathless and panting as you momentarily got lost in each other’s eyes.

WHAM!

A pillow connected with the side of your head. Loki let out an evil snicker, then rolled you over in hopes of gaining the upper hand. Unfortunately, there was no mattress left for you to roll onto, and you landed on the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

“Y/N! I’m so sorry, are you alright?” Loki scrambled off the bed, relieved to see you laughing hysterically on the floor.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” you giggled breathlessly, grabbing Loki’s extended hand to help you back up. He pulled you to your feet, then to your surprise, pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “What was that for?” you asked as he pulled away.

He smiled, casting his eyes downwards. “I don’t deserve this. Your joy in the smallest moments. I… I’m a miserable wretch. I’m not worthy of calling you mine.”

Mouth gaping, you stared at him in shock as his words processed. Then you quickly picked up a fallen pillow from the floor and started hitting him repeatedly with it. “What. The. Hell-” you enunciated each word with a whack of the pillow. “Are. You. Saying?”

Loki threw his hands up in defense, chuckling at your attacks. “I’m serious!”

“So am I!! Ugh, you’re too tall,” you huffed, climbing up to stand on the bed so you wouldn’t have to look up at him, instead making him look up to you. “You are not a miserable wretch, and you deserve every happiness in the universe.” You shook the pillow threateningly in his face. “Don’t you ever say something like that again.”

He looked up at you standing on the bed, a lazy half-smile resting on his lips. “I love you, Y/N. I truly do.”

“I love you too, you blithering idiot.” You leaned down and kissed him gently.

“You shouldn’t be standing on the bed,” he hummed, craning his neck to meet your gaze as you pulled away. “You’re enjoying the power over me just a little too much.”

With a laugh, you defiantly bounced a little on the mattress. “Would you prefer me on my knees, my king?”

“Yes. Yes, I absolutely would.”

He reached out to grab your leg, but you jumped away from his grasp. “Good luck getting me there.”

Loki growled, swiftly climbing up to stand on the mattress with you, ready to pounce. The bed creaked under your combined weight, but you ignored it and jumped away from Loki’s playfully threatening hands with a yelp.

He attempted to catch you, reaching for your arms and waist but only losing his balance as he took wobbly steps towards you. His instability on the uneven mattress brought a laugh to your lips, and you couldn’t help but jump on the springy bed as you dodged Loki’s unbalanced advances.

“Stop… moving! This is impossible.” With gritted teeth, he finally gave up trying to move around on the unstable mattress and just stood still on the bed.

“I thought gods might have better balance than that,” you chided playfully, bouncing closer to him and causing his arms to flail again as the bed shook under his feet. “Try jumping! Just bounce a little bit, it’s fun.”

Loki positively gaped at the suggestion.

“Gods do not bounce. You can't possibly expect me to-to jump on the bed.”

“Just try it. It won’t kill you.” You jumped right up in front of him, running your hands over his bare stomach to tease the waistband of his pants before grabbing his hands. “Come on!”

You started jumping up and down, letting the springs of the mattress shoot you into the air while you held Loki’s hands to urge him to join you. “Just like when I was a kid,” you giggled. A light smile played across Loki’s face as he watched you jump, looking at your childlike joy with pure adoration. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, unable to resist, then cautiously started jumping along with you.

You let out an excited squeal. “You’re doing it! See, it’s fun!”

“This is not fun.” Bounce.

“Yes it is. You’re smiling.”

“No I’m not.” Bounce.

“What do you call that face, then?”

“This is my ‘I’m going to brutally murder the next being that moves’ face.” Bounce.

You rolled your eyes and started jumping even higher, trying to reach his height. “Well, it’s adorable.”

“This is humiliating. This is worse than get help.”

“Mmhmm. And who are you trying to impress?” You grabbed a pillow off the bed and swung it at him.

He scowled and jumped out of your reach, crossing his arms and still bouncing lightly on the mattress. “You, you pathetic mortal. Always you.”

“Well then. Impress me. ” You grinned and looked around, an idea forming. “You know… I bet you can’t jump high enough to reach the ceiling.”

The ceiling wasn’t that high, and you knew Loki couldn’t say no to a challenge, especially one coming from you. Sure enough, Loki scoffed at your words. “Do you truly think so little of me?”

You shrugged. “I could do it.”

“Go on then, if you’re so sure.”

You squatted and jumped as hard as you could, the bed creaking under your weight as you jumped into the air but fell right back down without reaching the ceiling. Loki burst out laughing at your attempt and you playfully shoved him away. “Stop it! You can’t do it either!”

“Watch and learn, darling.”

He bounced a few times to gain momentum, his hair whipping messily around his face, then jumped with so much force it knocked you back onto the mattress. He swung wildly at the air, almost touching the ceiling, but still wasn’t high enough.

“HAH!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet. “I knew you couldn’t!!”

He had landed on his back but jumped right back up to try again, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He jumped again and again and again, until he full-on jumping on the bed… just as he had sworn he would never do.

There was no way you couldn’t smile at the sight. The youthful glimmer in his eye, the faint grin on his face, hair flying madly in the air as he bounced on the bed reaching for the ceiling. You stopped moving and just watched him for a second, your heart completely full.

“Oh, come on!” he huffed to himself when he missed the ceiling for probably the hundredth time. Out of breath, he paused and looked back at you, chest heaving. “What are you staring at?”

“You.” You grabbed his face in both hands and pulled him down to kiss his nose. “You’re adorable. And I love you.”

“Disgusting.” He grimaced and squirmed out of your grip, but there was no mistaking the tint of pink in his cheeks from your words. “I’m not going to bed until I’ve proved you wrong, you know.”

“Looks like we’ve got a long night ahead of us,” you grinned and plopped down criss-cross on the bed to watch him try.

He frowned down at you, pausing to blow away a strand of hair that wouldn’t stop falling in his face, then got ready to jump yet again. Face set with determination, he took a deep breath and jumped… but out of the corner of your eye, you saw a spark of green light around his fingers.

Ohhhh no he didn’t.

He shot straight up in the air, smacking his hand proudly on the ceiling while you started shouting. “NOT FAIR! No magic allowed!!”

Using his abilities to keep himself airborne a moment longer, the biggest smirk grew over his face. “Impressed yet?” He taunted.

“Not in the slightest, cheater. Get down here so I can slap that smirk off your face.”

“Hmm, kinky, I like it-hey!”

At his comment you had let out an annoyed string of curses and lunged at him, grabbing his legs and pulling him down out of the air. The mist-like substance that had been holding him up dissipated, and Loki dropped heavily to the mattress.

SNAP.

“Oh shit.”

The bed finally gave way as Loki crashed onto it, the mattress snapping and bending in half, caving in around him and pushing you towards the center too. Eyes wide, you both froze as you heard a slow creaking, then one of the legs of the bed splintered.

The entire bed dipped to one side, the broken mattress sliding off the bed. You and Loki scrambled over each other to get off, dodging a few springs that had poked through the fabric.

A silent, shocked moment passed, the two of you standing next to the bed and surveying the wreckage. You slowly turned to Loki, gaping. He glanced over to you nervously, clearing his throat.

“That… wasn’t supposed to happen.”

(Back to the present...)

“You’re going to tell them the truth. Right now.”

Loki grinned and crossed his arms to mimic your stance. “Hmm… no. No, I’m not.”

“Excuse me? I must not have made myself clear enough,” you spat, beyond irritated at your insufferable husband. “Unless you want to sleep alone tonight, you’re going to fix this and tell everyone what actually happened.”

He scrunched up his nose and leaned forward, trying to intimidate you with his towering figure, but you stood your ground. Close enough to your face that your noses were touching, he murmured under his breath, “make me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Of course, Thor chose that moment to stride into the room where you and Loki stood glaring silently at each other, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked by. “Did you sleep well last night, brother?” he asked, the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

You whirled around to glare at Thor now, asking with more force than you intended, “and why do you want to know?!”

The burly god held up his hands in defense. “I've heard from the others that you two managed to break the bed. I must say, I’m not surprised you did, I’m mostly shocked it took this long.”

Behind you, Loki had the nerve to let out a snicker, and you smacked him on the arm. “Your brother,” you seethed, “has been handing out faulty information.”

You were about to explain just how wrong Loki’s story was when Bruce stuck his head in the door. “Broke the bed, huh? Of course you did. You know, you two are the reason we soundproofed the walls, too.” He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Crazy kids.”

Loki scoffed. “I’m over a thousand years old, you impertinent lout.”

“That’s not what happened…” you started to say as Bruce walked away laughing but gave up with a sigh. Thor still stood in front of you grinning widely, so you figured you might as well tell him what actually happened.

“We didn’t break the bed because of that, Thor, I swear. The mighty ‘god of mischief’ over here,” you jabbed a thumb at Loki, “was ju-“

“-JUST going a bit too hard!” Loki cut you off, rushing up behind you and grabbing you by the waist. “I… lost control, I suppose. Can you truly blame me? With a goddess like this in my bed?”

Thor let out a booming laugh while you wrenched yourself out of Loki’s grip. “You complete ass, don’t you dare think compliments will help! Thor, don’t listen to a word this idiot says, he’s the one who broke the bed but it’s only cause I got him to jump-mmph.”

Loki was suddenly shutting you up with a harsh kiss, bending you backward in a deep dip with one arm around your waist and the other hand sneaking up to your neck. Against your better judgment, your eyes fluttered shut as you melted in his arms, forgetting everything you had been annoyed about. You stayed like that for a moment—you just couldn’t help kissing him back—until Thor cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Shit, sorry.” You shoved Loki away, ignoring the triumphant smirk on his face and quickly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Forgot you were there.”

Thor looked a tad bit uncomfortable, the poor thing. “You, um, should just tell me later, Y/N. I’m going to leave you two alone,” he mumbled and hurried out the door.

As soon as he was gone, you whirled around to Loki, fuming. “What the hell, Loki? How is them knowing that you were jumping on a bed WORSE than thinking we broke the bed from fucking too hard?!”

Loki just kept that irritatingly attractive smirk on his lips. “Oh come on. Why do you care what they think?” He reached for your hand and pulled you towards him.

“I’d just love to have everyone know that the ‘mighty Prince Loki, God of Mischief, rightful king of Jotunheim’ was jumping on the bed,” you whined and half-heartedly fought against his attempts, but quickly gave in and let him tug you up against his chest. He wrapped you in his arms, swaying lightly, his voice low in your ear.

“Now now, I can’t have that getting around. That’s our little secret.”

“But it’s ok for everyone to know about our sex life?” you sighed.

His lips brushed your ear and his voice dropped to a whisper, knowing just how to get you riled up. “I have no problem with people knowing what is mine.”

“You are the absolute worst, Loki.”

“But you love it.”

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how right he was.

“Shut up,” you groaned, then grabbed his face in both hands and smashed your lips onto his. He eagerly reciprocated, letting you push him backwards until his back was against a wall. It was an unusual change from how your making out usually went, normally it was Loki who would back you into a corner, but neither of you seemed opposed to the switch.

You kissed him roughly, releasing all of your pent up irritation towards your annoying, cocky, arrogant, loving...respectful...perfect, gorgeous god of a husband.

“You’re a royal pain in the ass, you know that?” you grinned up at him, your hand curling tighter in his shirt to keep him on your lips.

His hands worked their way down your back as he hummed in agreement, soaking up your kisses.

“I just have one question though,” you paused thoughtfully, leaning your head just out of the reach of Loki’s, making him whine quietly in frustration. “Do you think we could do it?”

Your husband did a double take, eyeing you suspiciously. “What are you…?”

You grinned at him, the mischievous spark that he loved so dearly glinting in your eyes. “Do you think we could break the bed? You know... not by jumping on it?”

Loki’s jaw dropped. It took him a few seconds to gather his senses after that while you gazed innocently up at him, toying with a few strands of his hair and waiting for his answer. Finally, his eyes narrowed and an almost evil smile spread across his face, making you immediately go weak in the knees.

“Oh, I absolutely do. But there’s only one way to find out for sure.”

Everything Taglist:

@lisalisa007 @himitoshi @agarwaeneth

#loki fluff #loki fanfic #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #Loki Love #loki christmas #loki odinson #christmas challenge #christmas fics #marvel fanfic #loki x fem!reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #GW 12 days of Christmas #loki imagine #loki kiss #loki funny

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azvolrien · 4 years

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The Island of Stars - Chapter Three

Kinda fell behind on this one, huh? But I’m back on it now. Chapter three: In which Una makes a new friend and some unrelated worrying developments occur.

~~~

“Do you think she’s a selkie?” asked one of the apprentices – a seventeen-year-old boy named Rhodri – as a pair of stretcher-bearers carried the woman into the infirmary.

“Selkies aren’t real,” said Una, watching as the infirmary door swung closed.

Rhodri gave her an odd look. “I have personally seen you turn into a seal.”

“So? I can turn into lots of animals – and I don’t need to wear a special cloak for any of them.”

“All right,” said the journeyman, whose name was Gethin. “All right. We’ve done all we can and she’s in good hands. Consider yourselves at liberty while I go and update the masters about this – they’ll probably want to hear about it. Just… Stay out of trouble and be back here in an hour.”

The apprentices promptly scattered in all directions. Una, left by herself, watched the infirmary door for another few seconds before she sighed, glanced left and right, and made her way back to her room in the dormitories. She hadn’t had a proper run in a long time. She scribbled a note just in case, drew the curtain, and stripped off everything but her scarf before she dropped to all fours, shifting smoothly from human form to wolf. She gave herself a shake and climbed up onto the bed to pull the curtain back and nudge the window ajar with her snout, then scrambled awkwardly out and dropped to the ground outside.

As a human, Una was tall: only a little under six feet in height, with the lanky build she had inherited from her father. As a wolf, she was enormous, standing higher than most people’s waists on all fours with a striking ruff of thick red fur along her neck and across her shoulders, and she made sure that her scarf was tired securely around her neck before she trotted off with the confident I’m-supposed-to-be-here walk Fayn had taught her to use as a wolf.

“Whose dog is that?” a passing Acolyte wondered aloud.

“No idea – probably a visitor’s,” said another.

Una reached the edge of the Noctorium, looked out over the hills for a moment, and began to run. Half an hour at her wolfish lope brought her a couple of miles outside the village, and she paused to enjoy the view from the top of a low summit marked with a cairn. Higher, rocky peaks towered above, but from her vantage point she could see all the way down a wide glacial valley to the distant sea. A couple of vessels rode at anchor just off shore, too far away to make out any details, while a fine plume of smoke rose from a campfire between some small buildings. One of those fishing villages Strix had mentioned, probably. Una yawned, shook herself, and returned to the Noctorium just in time for Master Gwyn to catch her coming back. A small crowd of Acolytes gathered to watch in increasing confusion as a middle-aged man gave a large red-furred wolf a stern lecture on wandering off without permission.

“I know you’re powerful, not just for your age but as a wizard,” he said, wrapping up the speech, “but you’re still an apprentice, and the Masters are responsible for your safety. Don’t leave the Noctorium again – at least not without telling one of us or the journeymen where you’re going. Is that understood?” Una nodded. The watching Acolytes’ eyes widened. “Good. Among other reasons, I do not want to have to explain things to your parents if you get hurt on my watch. Now, for all the gods – go and get dressed.”

The rest of the day went by without major incident. Gethin and the other journeymen rounded the apprentices back up for some meditation exercises, while Master Jones presented them all with a quiz to test what they had learned on the island so far. The next morning, however, proved a little more eventful.

Una left the refectory after breakfast, just in time to see a tall red-haired figure in a sealskin cloak shove open the infirmary door and stride away down the street.

“Hey!” The woman didn’t stop walking or even look around. Una grabbed Gethin’s sleeve and pointed after her. “Look – she’s on her feet!”

“Is that our selkie, then?” said Gethin.

“Selkies aren’t – yes, that was her. Can I go see how she is?”

“Well… All right, but make it quick.”

The woman was a fast walker; Una didn’t catch up with her until halfway to the cliff. “Hey – sealskin! Wait!”

She stopped and turned around, folding her arms. The infirmary healers had done their job well: one of her eyes was still swollen half-shut with a huge bruise, but all of her wounds had healed and her foot was clearly as good as new. Even in the chill of a Sea Loch winter, her tunic left her arms bare under the cloak. “My name is Roan,” she said. “What do you want?”

“I was one of the group that found you on the beach, washed up after the storm,” said Una. “I – I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Roan sighed, and her grey eyes warmed a little. “Sorry to be short with you. Thank you – I’m grateful for your help, I really am. But my wife will be worried sick by now. I need to get off this island and go home.” She started walking towards the lift again. She was a little taller than Una – fully six feet – and walked with a longer stride. Una jogged to catch up again.

“You won’t manage it down there,” she said.

“What?”

“The harbour – there aren’t any boats for you to take. Only the big construct that goes to Duncraig docks there, and it won’t be back for a couple of days.”

Roan didn’t stop until she reached the wall by the lift and leaned over to see for herself. “…Huh.” For a few seconds she stared down over the edge of the cliff. Sure enough, the construct’s berth far below was empty. She sighed and sat down on the ground, her back to the wall and one hand on her forehead beneath the strange skull-topped hood of her cloak. No tears leaked from her eyes, but her breath and her shoulders began to tremble. “This is Starwatch, aye?” she asked after another few seconds, once she had her breathing under control.

“Yeah.”

“Thought so. Never been here, but… all the people in black habits was the giveaway.”

Una took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Look… Why don’t you come back up to the Noctorium and have something to eat, and we can try to get a message to your wife? I’m sure the Order won’t mind putting you up for a bit until the ship comes back. You being a castaway and all that.”

Roan sighed again, nodded, and heaved herself back onto her feet with a grunt of effort. “Aye. Good idea. Though anything sent through the post will probably get there after I do…”

Una bit her lip for a second. “I might be able to help with that. I have a messenger construct my parents gave me – they meant it for emergencies and, well, I suppose this is one. Have you got something of your wife’s? Something it can use to find her?”

“Aye, I’ve got-” Roan’s eyes widened in sudden panic and she clutched at her chest, then shoved both hands into her pockets and sighed with relief. “I’ve got this,” she said, holding up a small gold locket on a fine chain and hanging it around her neck. “Thought I’d lost it in the storm for a moment. It has a lock of her hair in it. Will that do?”

“Should work, yeah. Let’s get you some breakfast.”

“I’ll need to drop back into the infirmary first,” said Roan guiltily. “Sort of ran off without telling anyone there.”

They walked back up to the Noctorium side by side. Some of the purpose had gone out of Roan’s stride, and she walked slowly enough for Una to easily keep pace with her.

“You’re from Stormhaven, aye?” she asked as they walked. “I recognise the accent.”

“Yeah, I’m a junior apprentice at the College.”

“Heh. My wife used to work there, when she lived in the city for a couple of years. Not as a wizard, though – she was in the admin office.”

“Honestly, the admin staff probably work harder than anyone else in the College,” said Una. “Well – except maybe the cleaners. Maybe I know her?”

Roan glanced at her, a small smile appearing for the first time. “I doubt it. What age are you?”

“I’m fourteen.”

“Nah, then – she moved back up here before you were born. Some of your teachers might remember her, though, if they’ve been there for long enough.”

They reached the Noctorium and Roan somewhat sheepishly let herself back into the infirmary. A couple of minutes later she re-emerged and followed Una across the street to the refectory. The Acolyte on serving duty looked her up and down, pointed out an empty seat at one of the long communal tables, and went to fetch a plate of kippers, scrambled eggs, and girdle scones for her without question.

“Always room for one more,” he said wearily, setting the plate down in front of her, and started clearing away empty plates. When he had gone, Gethin, Rhodri and a few other curious apprentices sat further down the table and tried not to look like they were eavesdropping.

“So… How’d you end up on the beach?” asked Una.

Roan swallowed a mouthful of egg before answering. “Picked the wrong day to go fishing,” she said. “The storm wrecked my boat, then carried me all the way out to the island.” She gestured around herself with her fork, just in case there was any confusion as to which island she meant. “I hit the reef first, just off shore, and managed to grab on to the rock somehow.” She held up her other hand to show the faint, shiny scars of cuts closed by skilful healing magic, all the way across her palm. “Then Riabhach showed up – no idea how he found me – and helped me onto the beach. After that, I… I think I must’ve fainted, because I don’t remember anything between that and waking up in the infirmary. I should’ve realised Riabhach was worried. With hindsight, of course he was trying to warn me there was a storm coming.”

Una shared a glance with the other apprentices. “We didn’t see anyone else on the beach with you. Just… Some big sea-monstery animal.”

“Aye, that’s him.” Roan looked up from her plate at the awkward silence. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”

“Not… badly?” said Una. At Roan’s frown she hastily added, “We thought he was attacking you! But he’s fine – we didn’t cut him, and he just went back into the water.”

“Right.” Roan turned her attention back to her kippers, still frowning but somewhat less deeply.

Una reached down to her satchel, sitting on the floor under the table, and took out a notebook and a pen. “Here.” She slid them across the table. “So you can write to your wife. We can send my messenger off once you’ve finished eating.”

Gethin gave Una a curious look. She quietly explained the situation as Roan very slowly wrote out a few lines on one sheet of paper.

“Maybe one of you should read this over,” said Roan once she was done. “It’s… not my best skill. Writing.” Una nodded and took her notebook back for a quick proofread. It immediately became clear why Roan wrote so slowly; her handwriting was blocky and deliberate, printing each letter one by one without joining them together.

Asta,

I am safe on Starwatch with the Order of Night – washed up on thi their iland after the storm but lost the boat. Will be home as soon as I can – hold on a few more days. Sorry to make you wuorry. Look after yourself.

Yours always, Roan.

“I think that covers the important stuff,” said Una. She didn’t have the heart to point out the remaining spelling error.

Roan finished her breakfast and they walked back out to the street. Una took a small clamshell case from one pocket of her satchel, opened its catch with a click, and carefully removed a smooth oval stone no bigger than her fingernail from a padded setting inside it. She held up the stone, concentrating, and the messenger construct appeared in a flash of light. It gave a small chirp and perched neatly on her forearm. It looked similar to Calburn’s giant construct Vrand, with short curving horns, a long tail with sail-like structures at the base and on the end, and webbed wings supported by a single long, thin finger along the leading edge, but its fur was Una’s red compared to Calburn’s blond and it was only the size of a raven. A thin wooden tube lay along its back, fixed securely to the fine leather straps of its miniature harness.

“Huh!” Roan reached out and, after a quick glance at Una for permission, stroked one finger along the soft fur on the back of the little construct’s neck. “I’ve seen something like this before – Asta showed me a drawing in one of her books. But there was a person for scale in that one, and it was…” She held both arms out wide.

“Oh, Vrand got mentioned in a book?” said Una. “It’s a wonder Cal didn’t say anything – not like him not to show off about something like that.”

“‘Cal’?”

“My Uncle Calburn,” said Una. “Well – we’re not really related. He’s one of those ‘uncles’ who’s really one of your parents’ old friends, you know?”

“Calburn Sayer?”

“Uh… Yeah?”

“Gods, small world,” muttered Roan. “So he made this little construct for you – how does it work? Do I have to give it the locket so it can find her, or…?”

“No, just let her have a look. Her name’s Zahari, by the way. It’s… the name of a character in a book I liked,” she added when Roan raised an eyebrow.

Roan shrugged, pulled the locket out from inside the neck of her tunic, and prised it open with a thumbnail so that both Zahari and Una could see inside. One side held a lock of black hair, curled to fit inside and held in place by a small steel clip; the other side displayed a tiny portrait of a smiling woman with long, straight hair matching the colour of the lock and golden-brown skin.

“My tad has a locket a bit like that,” commented Una as Zahari craned her neck forwards, alternating between sniffing the hair and studying the portrait with her beady yellow eyes. “Except his just has a picture of my mam, without the hair. That is a picture of your wife, right? The hair should be enough but I don’t want Zahari to get confused.��

“Aye, that’s my Asta.”

“Good. Right, now just roll up the note and slot it into the message tube, and Zahari will carry it off to her.”

Roan did as she was instructed, screwing the tube’s cap firmly in place once the note was inside. Zahari reared up on her hind legs and stretched out her wings.

“Find Asta,” Una instructed. “Give her the message. Then come back to me. Go!”

Zahari leapt from Una’s arm, flapping wildly until she gained enough height to glide. Soon her wings had caught the breeze, and she soared away to the southeast.

“Well, at least she’s going the right way,” said Roan, watching until the little construct was out of sight.

“She’ll find her,” said Una. “Cal’s constructs are usually pretty smart. My parents got him to make Zahari for my birthday a couple of years ago – they wanted to be sure I could get word to them if I got into trouble.”

“Perk of living with wizards, I suppose,” said Roan. “When I was your age, my grandfather just told me to yell. Speaking of which…” She turned at the sound of raised voices behind her. Strix, Tyto and a grey-haired woman with two white sashes embroidered with silver thread crossed over her chest were walking down the street, talking louder than they probably intended; other Acolytes kept looking around, rolling their eyes, and going back to work. Rionnag padded behind the trio, his ears back and his hackles up.

“I genuinely don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” said the woman. “There are always boats stopping in one cove or another around the island. But you’re right, there’s no harm in checking. Strix, how long do you think you’ll be?”

“Two, three hours?” he said. “I should be back by lunchtime at the latest.”

The woman nodded. “Go, then. If you aren’t back by the end of the lunch hour, I’ll send someone to look for you.”

“Yes, Nocta.” He climbed onto Rionnag’s back, and the huge wolf bounded away.

“What was that about?” asked Una.

“Oh, hello,” said Tyto. “I ought to introduce you. Apprentice, this is Nocta Vesper, our current leader – not just here on Starwatch but throughout the entire Order. Nocta, this is… I never did get your name, did I?”

“Una Smith. And this is Roan.”

“Ah, yes, the castaway,” said Vesper. “I’ll speak with the dormitory keepers and find you a spare bed to use until the ferry returns. Tyto – come and find me if Strix returns early.”

“Yes, Nocta.”

Vesper nodded politely to Una and Roan, brushed down the front of her black habit, and walked away.

“She has a lot to keep track of,” said Tyto.

“So, what’s your friend looking for?” Roan prompted.

“Oh, of course.” Tyto sighed, nervously freeing his braids from the ponytail one by one. “I’m concerned about something I noticed while helping to calibrate our smaller telescopes – the portable ones we can set up anywhere.”

“Is that part of your job?” asked Una. “It doesn’t sound like much to do with prophecies.”

“Not usually, but they needed a fresh pair of eyes on the problem. But I was checking how the focus adjusted when I spotted a couple of ships in a cove on the far side of the island – down the valley that way.” He pointed.

“I think I saw them when I went for a run yesterday,” said Una.

“The design of the ships is… unusual,” said Tyto. “In some ways they resemble traditional Sea Loch longships – low to the water, very sleek with one sail each, but without the high figurehead.”

“Raiding ships,” said Roan quietly.

“Hence my concern,” said Tyto with a nod. “It may be nothing, but… Rionnag is faster over rough ground than any horse, mule or construct we have on the island. If it is something to worry about, Strix will give us plenty of warning.”

Roan nodded slowly, took a steadying breath, and walked away.

“I… don’t know what she’s going to do,” said Una.

“No, neither do I,” said Tyto. He tied his braids back again and ran both hands over his hair, sighing, then took the jar of sardines from his pocket and ate one. “One of your senior wizards was looking for you,” he said in a calmer voice. “The rest of your group are meeting up at the main building to visit the high observatory.”

The high observatory was an impressive structure, half built and half carved out of the mountain itself, and it commanded an unparalleled view not just of the sky but of almost the entire island, but Una couldn’t concentrate on either the view or the great telescope in the dome. Instead she looked down over the railing around the outer balcony, watching for any sign of something approaching the Noctorium.

Something was. The huge grey shape of Rionnag tore across the snowy hills, galloping full-tilt towards the buildings with Strix clinging desperately to his back. As Una watched, the figure of Nocta Vesper walked out to meet them outside the refectory.

Down by the coast, at the far end of the valley, the plume of smoke had grown darker.

~~~

Calburn has a rather profitable sideline making little messenger-constructs; they’re a lot more reliable than pigeons. They always come out looking like mini-Vrands, though.

#az writes stories

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bindy417 · 5 years

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At the Edge of the Ocean: Part 4 (Olicity AU)

A/N: Hello lovely readers, I’m so excited to be posting the fourth and final part of At the Edge of the Ocean! Thanks so much for hanging in there with me and letting me indulge in this Olicity mermaid AU. Your enthusiasm has been mermazing!

If you haven’t caught up, be sure to read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. I also created a playlist of songs related to the themes of this fic if you want to check it out.

Happy reading, and let me know what you think!

Pairing: Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak

Rating: T

Summary: AU. Oliver almost drowns when the Queen’s Gambit sinks and is saved by a mysterious creature. When he learns that his savior is actually a beautiful mermaid named Felicity, Oliver can’t decide if he’s more shocked by her existence or the fact that he feels such a strong connection to her. Coming from two different worlds, Oliver and Felicity must decided if their love is true and what they’re willing to sacrifice to make it work.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Arrow or any of its characters. Except for the Olicity edits with my watermark, the rest of the images and gifs aren’t mine.

Oliver pumped his arms and legs to reach the surface. His lungs strained against the need to inhale, his last stores of oxygen depleted. He almost made it to the surface when something grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him back down.

(Gif via tenor.com)

He squinted in the darkness of the salty depths and shouted when his father’s face emerged. Robert Queen’s eyes were clouded like milky marbles, his skin pale and bloated. Part of his torso was missing; a large bite mark was imprinted into his skin.

His father hadn’t survived. He’d been lost to the depths, and now he wanted Oliver to join him.

(Gif via Wattpad by voidsenses)

Thrashing against Robert’s hold, Oliver finally broke free. A flash of pink colored his peripheral vision. Scales glistened, and he felt oddly comforted. His mind struggled to remember why this vision before him wasn’t a threat but his salvation. The ethereal golden waves of hair floating around the most beautiful face he’d ever seen caused his memory to return.

“Felicity,” he whispered, though it came out as a bubbly garble in the water. She was the mermaid who saved his life. His very own angelfish.

(Original source: www.taylorswiftisreallyamermaid.com)

Felicity started crying, and it tore at his heart. Why was she sad? Oliver tried to swim toward her and found himself frozen in place.

“Oliver, help me!” she called to him. “Please!”

“I’m coming,” he tried to reply. Once again his words could not form. His voice sounded muffled and far away.

A dark figure was moving in behind Felicity, and fast. Her pleas increased, and Oliver fought even harder to reach her.

The mysterious figure was big and ominous. A shiny set of razor-sharp teeth suddenly gleamed through the murky water. It was a shark, he was sure of it, and Felicity was dead center in its path. Although her tail thrashed, she also couldn’t move.

The deadly creature was almost upon her.

“Felicity,” Oliver shouted in warning, suddenly finding his voice. “Get out of there.”

“I can’t,” she replied, sobbing. He’d never seen her so scared. “Don’t let me go.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise me.”

(Original source unknown)

“I promise.” No sooner had he made his vow, the giant shark opened its jaws and consumed Felicity in a single bite.

(Original photo by JadeAlexis18 via We Heart It)

Oliver screamed as his heart ripped in two at the gruesome sight. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he was no longer in the ocean; instead, he was surrounded by a sea of people. Faces came in and out of his vision, shouting to one another.

“Oliver! Oliver!” called a familiar voice in the chaos.

“Mom?” he croaked. Moira Queen came into view for mere seconds before Oliver’s vision blackened.

He remained in the darkness for a long time. Though his body lay motionless, his mind raced. There was no time for rest. He had to get back to Felicity. The look on her face as he promised to never let her go haunted him. He begged her forgiveness.

When Oliver’s eyes finally opened, one thought stayed with him.

“Felicity,” he murmured, disoriented.

Blinking several times, Oliver took in his surroundings. The darkness he’d inhabited before was replaced by a bright white ceiling, walls, and floor—a stark contrast from the palette of colors of the island.

“You’re awake.”

The unfamiliar voice startled him. He hadn’t known anyone was next to him. The older woman smiled kindly.

“Welcome back, Mr. Queen. Your mother and sister will be so thrilled to know you’re awake.”

“W-Where am I?”

“Starling General.”

“Starling…” He was home. “How?”

“That’s a long story. Best you hear it from the doctor. I’ll go fetch him.” She finished checking his vitals and wheeled away her device.

Oliver groaned. His body was stiff and his head groggy. The last time he’d felt like this, he’d had the worst hangover of his life.

His headache worsened when the memories came flooding back to him. The shipwreck. Felicity rescuing him. Discovering she was a mermaid. Their time spent together. The giant mutant shark. Felicity on land and him falling even more in love with her. Their last night spent together. Then her walking away from him as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Now he was back in Starling, apparently.

The doctor, a middle-aged Asian man, entered the room minutes later with the same nurse in tow.

“Mr. Queen, hello. I’m Dr. Barton. I’m the physician overseeing your recovery. Good news is your vitals are strong—despite the state we found you in,” he explained. “Your blood test showed you’d ingested a very potent barbiturate. We couldn’t identify it, but the lab said it originated from some type of marine life. Do you remember what you might’ve been exposed to on the island?”

“I don’t know.” He really didn’t, seeing as though it was Felicity who’d slipped it to him.

“Are you sure? This substance, it’s quite intriguing,” the doctor persisted. “Some of my colleagues think it could have substantial medicinal purposes.”

“I don’t know,” Oliver repeated. The doctor studied him until the hopeful expression on his face disappeared. Wanting to change the subject, Oliver asked, “How did I get here?”

“Fishermen passing by the island saw your smoke signal. They took you aboard and contacted the proper authorities to bring you back here.”

“How long ago was that?”

“A few days.” The doctor’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry to ask this, Mr. Queen, but the authorities need answers. Do you think your father or anyone else aboard the Queen’s Gambit could’ve survived?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. They’re dead. It was just me.”

“You’re sure you were alone?” he questioned.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Oliver answered, “Yes.”

“Who’s Felicity?”

His eyes widened. How could the doctor possibly know about her? Panic shot through him, wondering if she’d somehow been captured in her attempt to get him help.

Anticipating his next question, the nurse chimed in, “You muttered her name quite frequently when you were under.”

Trying not to show his relief, Oliver said with a straight face, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know anyone by that name. It was probably just a side effect of whatever was in my system.”

The doctor wrote in his chart while the nurse stared at him intently. She seemed to know he was lying--she’d heard him say Felicity’s name upon waking--but was nice enough not to call him on it.

“Very well then. Dana will help you get cleaned up. We’ve already notified your family that you’re awake. Your mother is on her way. Later, the authorities would like to get a statement from you. They have a lot of questions about what you endured.”

“Okay,” Oliver muttered, already dreading the interrogation that would come about his experience.

The nurse, Dana, set up the shower for him in the bathroom. She also got him a razor to shave and cut his long, tangled hair. She was a chatty Kathy and told him all about her early days working in a salon. Oliver was pleased with the short cut she gave him. He didn’t want his mother to see him looking like some wild jungle castaway.

Nervous butterflies wreaked havoc in his stomach. Oliver couldn’t believe he would actually see his mother again after so long. He wondered if she looked exactly as he’d last seen her. He wondered what she would think of him. Oliver may look more like himself after a shower and shave, but he was a far cry from the son Moira had known.

He couldn’t yet change into his normal clothes, but at least Dana provided him with a set of pants and a t-shirt to replace his johnny.

Oliver stood by the window, taking in the bright lights and bustling streets of the city when the door to his room opened. His mother’s soft gasp as he turned to face her made his heart clench.

“Oliver,” she said tentatively, almost as if she was afraid to spook him. Her hair was shorter; the lines in her face more pronounced. Her eyes, however, were filled with the same love and concern she’d always directed his way.

“Mom,” he replied, overcome with emotion.

“Oh, my beautiful boy,” Moira said, choking back a sob. She reached for him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Oliver cradled her as she cried into his shoulder. He nuzzled her hair, taking in the familiar scent of her perfume and shampoo.

It truly hit him then: he was home.

~***~

The tall, strong foundation of the Queen mansion looked like a safe haven in the distance. It had always been Oliver’s refuge in the past—whether it be from bullies as a child or his troubles with the police and paparazzi as a teen. The mansion still brought him comfort now, but Oliver knew what existed out in the big wide world—and there was no escaping reality this time.

“Your room is exactly as I left it,” Moira informed him. “I didn’t have the heart to change anything. I always had hope you would return.”

Oliver observed the foyer with its hardwood paneling and double grand staircases. At the bottom stood their long-time maid, Raisa. Her face had a few more lines, too, but her smile remained warm and bright.

“Good to see you, Raisa.”

“Welcome home, Mr. Oliver.” She addressed Moira, “Mr. Merlyn called. He wants to join you for dinner.”

“Wonderful,” his mother replied. “Oliver, did you hear that?”

He’d heard, but his attention had already turned toward the stairs. At the top stood his litter sister—well, maybe not so little anymore.

She’d grown in the time he’d been gone. Her light brown hair was longer, and it wasn’t straight but wavy.

“Hey, Sis,” he said, fighting the tremor in his voice.

“Ollie.” She beamed and quickly made her way down the stairs. “I knew it. I knew you were alive.” Thea threw her arms around him. “I missed you so much.”

Oliver held her just as tightly back. “You were with me the whole time.”

(Original source: http://bit.ly/2manMyA)

“Oliver, honey, why don’t you go up to your room and get settled in before dinner,” Moira suggested.

Oliver was thankful for the reprieve. The onslaught of emotion overwhelmed him.

True to her word, his mother had left his room exactly as it had been. Oliver took it in, feeling a wave of nostalgia, before showering. He needed to wash away the journey home and time in the hospital.

When he finished and emerged from the bathroom in a towel, he felt refreshed but no less at ease. After his time away, in what was a different world, everything that was once familiar was now unrecognizable.

(Gif via gfycat)

The face in the mirror was a stranger. The marks on his body permanent reminders of all that he’d been through. There was only one reminder he wanted, but that mark couldn’t be seen. Yet he felt it, right in his heart where Felicity had changed him forever.

~***~

After dressing, Oliver made his way downstairs. He halted in the foyer, noticing a framed picture of his father and him many years ago. His fingers grazed the portrait. The grief and despair threatened to consume Oliver—feeling fresh now that he was back in his family home.

The front door opened behind him, startling him. The corner of his mouth twitched at the sight of his best friend.

“What’d I tell ya. Yachts suck.”

He smiled. “Tommy Merlyn.” The friends embraced.

“Glad you’re alive, buddy.”

“Me too.”

Dinner passed in a blur. His family and Tommy attempted to make conversation, but Oliver didn’t feel much like chatting.

So he let them babble about the Super Bowl games he’d missed and TV shows he needed to catch up on.

Then Thea asked, “What was it like there?”

The room went silent.

“Surreal,” he answered, remembering the night the Gambit had sank and he’d been rescued. The moment Felicity finally revealed herself to him was burned into his brain. Being back home now, a part of him feared it had all been an illusion.

“Tomorrow, you and me are doing the city. We have a lot to catch up on,” Tommy interjected with his usual attempts to lighten the mood.

“That’s a great idea,” Moira agreed.

“I was hoping to swing by the office,” Oliver said.

“There’s plenty of time for all that. Queen Consolidated isn’t going anywhere. But I’ll arrange a tour for us on Thursday. Walter Steele has taken over as CEO. He’ll be thrilled to see you.”

Oliver watched his mother, detecting the uptick in her voice and the way her eyes brightened at the mention of Walter. Just as quickly, he dismissed the thought. She was probably just excited about his return. They were all trying to make the best of his homecoming while avoiding the cause of his disappearance.

~***~

Oliver stood at the water’s edge, staring out at the reflection of the moon on the water’s surface. The Starling City Bay was calm at night. So different from the active tides of the island. He came here on the nights he couldn’t sleep, which was often.

A month had passed since his return, and Oliver did his best to get back to his normal life. He had dinner with his family, hung out with Tommy and Thea, and shadowed Walter at QC. His body was in Starling, yet his mind was still on the island. The first night back had been the hardest. He couldn’t sleep comfortably in his bed—tossing and turning in the dead of night. Eventually, he ended up on the floor, sleeping in front of his open window, needing fresh air.

Oliver hadn’t even known he’d been dreaming until his mother came to check on him.

Startled, he’d grabbed her by the neck, ready for a fight. Oliver apologized profusely. He’d never purposefully harm his mother.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” she’d comforted him. “You’re home. You’re home.”

He’d been calling for Felicity in his sleep again. His mother had questioned him the next day about it. Oliver avoided answering, knowing the truth would make his family view him as crazy. Sometimes he wondered if he was. Being back home, in the real world, made it easy to question the realness of all he’d endured.

Oliver thought he’d been putting on a brave face until one day Thea took him to the graves behind the mansion—one belonged to him, the other to his father. Seeing his name carved into it, along with the emptiness he felt, Oliver wasn’t sure if it wasn’t the truth.

“I felt closer to you when you were dead,” Thea had told him, after sharing how she’d come out to talk to him when times were tough. “I know it was hell where you were. But it was hell here, too. You gotta let me in, Ollie. You gotta let someone in.”

Oliver had already let someone in. But how could he tell his sister his sadness came from losing someone he’d loved during what was supposed to be the worst time in his life—and that the emptiness he felt while at home made him want to return to the island to find her?

~***~

Expecting his mother to be alone, Oliver halted outside the doorway to her study when he heard a much deeper male voice. The British accent immediately gave him away: Walter Steele. Oliver couldn’t say he was surprised. His mother hadn’t come out and said it, but something was going on between her and Walter. He saw the way she looked at him and detected the tenderness in her tone when she said his name. A part of him felt irked that she was taking interest in another man in his father’s absence; it was just barely over a year. But then Thea’s words popped back into his head, and he understood why his mother may have sought comfort during tragedy from someone who’d been a trustworthy and loyal friend all these years.

(Photo via Fusion Movies)

Oliver was about to turn around, deciding to ask his mother about Thea’s upcoming birthday later, when he heard his name.

For a moment, Oliver thought they’d spotted him. He was about to reply and step through the doorway when his mother’s hushed voice made him halt.

“No matter what the doctor says, I know my son. Something is wrong. It feels like he’s not even happy to be home. Like his body is here but his head is elsewhere.”

Oliver frowned. His mother wasn’t wrong, but he thought he’d at least been hiding his true feelings better since Thea had spoken with him.

“Of course he is glad to be home,” Walter reassured her. “Moira, Oliver has been through a harrowing experience. His being withdrawn is to be expected. Besides, I saw the papers. He and Tommy went to a club last night. They looked to be having a good time.”

“He didn’t stay long. He left early and wound up at the Starling City Bay. He was there for hours until he came home.”

“How do you know that?”

Oliver wanted an answer too. Was his mother keeping tabs on him?

Sounding chagrined, Moira admitted, “I hired someone to follow him.”

“Moira,” Walter tsked.

“I needed to know, Walter. I’m worried about him.”

“Visiting the bay doesn’t seem so bad.”

“He barely eats or sleeps. He spends more time with his archery coach than he does Tommy or his other friends. I don’t think he’s even been on one date since he’s returned—”

“Archery,” Walter interjected. “What sparked his interest in that?”

“He mentioned something about hunting his own food on the island, though I don’t understand why he would need to retain that skill now. Not to mention the questions he was asking the head of marine research in Applied Sciences.”

“Moira, I didn’t tell you about his meetings with Dr. Fielding to worry you. Oliver taking an interest in QC is a good thing.”

“Walter, I spoke with Dr. Fielding. He said Oliver was asking questions about strange creatures…mutated sharks or something to that effect. Don’t you find that odd?” Oliver peeked around the corner and saw his mother’s concerned expression.

Oliver bristled. Dr. Fielding had sworn that whatever they discussed would remain in the strictest confidence. Now his mother knew all about Oliver’s private research project.

“He was lost at sea, Moira. Maybe he was curious—”

“Perhaps he saw something when the Gambit went down.”

“Saw what?”

Moira hesitated. Then: “I haven’t told anyone about this, but I hired a special team to investigate the Gambit’s sinking—after the authorities decided to give up the search. They found it and…”

“And?” Walter prompted, listening intently. Oliver also leaned in closer.

“They said it looked as if the ship had been torn apart. Not by natural causes but…they found strange bite marks.” She shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying herself. “I’ve asked Dr. Fielding to examine it.”

“It couldn’t hurt to look into the matter.”

“I fear what Oliver has endured may be even worse than we thought. I worry he might do something if he doesn’t get help. I know this psychiatrist—”

Oliver reared back, having heard enough. No matter what his mother said, he wouldn’t go to a shrink. One mention of King Shark and his mermaid girlfriend would either land him in a straight jacket or cause his mother to extend her investigation into the Gambit’s demise. He had to find another way to appease his mother and move forward with his plans. Time was running out.

~***~

Laurel was looking for him. Ever since he’d returned home, Oliver’s ex-girlfriend made it no secret she still had feelings for him. Laurel believed his return was their second chance, and Oliver didn’t have the energy or patience to convince her otherwise. He couldn’t deal with the wounded look of disappointment again. Instead, he stayed in the shadows sipping his drink, observing the people around him.Tommy’s parties always drew a large crowd. Even Starling’s elite couldn’t pass up free booze, food, and the occasional party drug.

Not long ago, Oliver would’ve been among them—drinking and hooking up with a pretty face that could distract him for the evening. As an outside observer now, he wondered how he could’ve ever found this lifestyle fulfilling. Tommy, not to anyone’s surprise, was loving every second of the attention. He stood by the bar talking to Joanna. She was beautiful: tall and dark-skinned, with legs for days. She also happened to be a friend of Laurel’s.

While Oliver was glad to see Tommy enjoying himself, he would much rather be at home continuing his research. Reports had surfaced of missing fishermen not far from where the Gambit sank. Most of Oliver’s spare time was devoted to figuring out a way to get back on the water and destroy that mutant monster.

He thought back to his conversation with the marine biologist at QC, and his advice about dealing with marine predators, when something moved out of the corner of his eye. Oliver bristled, sensing a large, hulking presence. His head swiveled, and he saw that it was a tall, muscular man in a suit. Some of the tension left his body when he realized it was only a member of Tommy’s security. With so many people in attendance and the unlimited supply of booze, his friend couldn’t be too careful about certain guests getting out of hand.

(Gif via The Arcade)

The man’s attention was trained on a guy several feet away. Oliver recognized the shaggy brown hair and smug smirk. It was Max Fuller—his long-time rival. The two had never gotten along—and that was before Oliver had slept with his fiancee during their rehearsal dinner. Not his finest moment, but Max was no saint either; he pretended to be better than everyone else—the creep.

“Good to keep an eye on that one,” Oliver told the security guard. “He’s trouble.” The recent rumor was Max wanted to create a nightclub—with much of his investment money originating from his lucrative side dealing of drugs.

“Thanks for the tip,” came a gruff response. “Although I’ve heard the same about you, Mr. Queen.” His dark eyes spared him a glance before surveying the room once more.

Oliver blinked in surprise. It was rare that someone was so blunt with him. “No need to worry about me tonight.”

“I figured as much when I saw you standing in the dark corner by yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Oliver answered, perhaps too emphatically.

The man smirked, though not with derision. His brown eyes looked almost sympathetic. “I said the same thing when I got out of the service. It takes time to feel like yourself again—if you ever do.”

“You were in the military?”

He nodded. “The Navy.”

“Navy,” Oliver repeated, his interest sparked. “You were a…?”

“Navy Seal,” he proudly answered.

“How did you end up here?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question.”

“If a better opportunity came along, something that actually pertains to your skills, would you be open to it?”

“Depends on what it is.” The man wasn’t looking at him, but Oliver could tell he’d caught his attention.

“It doesn’t involve chaperoning a bunch of drunken trust fund kids. It’s much more important than that, and dangerous.”

The man turned toward him, scrutinizing him. Oliver must’ve passed his inspection because he said, “I’m all ears.” He held out his hand. “John Diggle.”

“Nice to meet you, John. I’m Oliver Queen.”

~***~

Dig—as John preferred to be called—held a fry halfway to his mouth and paused. “Have I seen what?”

Oliver repeated his question. “Any anomalies in the water?”

During Tommy’s party, Oliver and Dig had planned to meet the following day to discuss Oliver’s proposal. They decided on Big Belly Burger, which wasn’t too far from John’s apartment in The Glades. It was less likely someone would recognize Oliver and, also, Dig’s sister-in-law worked there as a waitress.

They’d ordered lunch and made small talk at first—discussing their backgrounds as they waited. Hearing about John’s time in the service, Oliver couldn’t help but feel guilty for the time he pissed away since high school—partying and getting in trouble instead of using his money and celebrity to make a difference. But everything was different now.

“Anomalies like what?”

“Weird, unexplained sonar findings. Possible abnormally sized creatures…” he trailed off, taking in Dig’s perplexed expression.

“Not really,” Dig replied. “Have you?” It came off like a sarcastic comeback, but his eyes were probing.

Oliver took a sip of his shake, buying himself time to work up the nerve to say, “It wasn’t a storm that sank the Gambit that night.” When Dig remained silent, Oliver continued, “There was something in the water.” He took a steadying breath. “A shark.”

“A shark,” Dig repeated, skeptical.

Oliver nodded.

“What, like Jaws? Even if there was a large shark, a yacht that size—”

“It was gigantic and it…it had hands. It wasn’t normal.” Oliver added in a rush, “I know what I saw. It tried to get me on the island too.”

“If that’s true, then how did you manage to get away from it in the first place?”

“A guardian angel.” His heart ached at the mention of Felicity. Oliver pressed on. “Look up news reports in the area. More ships have gone down and fishermen are missing.”

“Look, Oliver, I’ve been through trauma. Sometimes the mind can play tricks—”

“The threat is real,” Oliver insisted, not backing down.

“Say I believe you”—the frown on Dig’s face said otherwise—“what do you want from me?”

“I can’t let that thing continue terrorizing everyone. I want to put a team together to take that thing out once and for all. That’s where you come in. You’ve got the training and connections.”

“If you’re so concerned and sure of what you saw, why not go to the authorities?”

“Because they’ll probably assume I’m crazier than you think right now. And there is something else in the water…something just as rare but worth protecting.”

(Gif via Gifer.com)

Dig sat with his hands folded, contemplating.

“Whether you believe me or not, I’m willing to pay top dollar for your expertise. Think about it and let me know.” Oliver stood and threw money on the table to cover the bill. “If we’re going to do this, we can’t wait much longer.”

~***~

His knuckles turning white, Oliver gripped the railing of the boat. He inhaled the crisp, salty air as his eyes frantically scanned the surface of the ocean. The water appeared calm for now, but Oliver knew it was simply a cover for the danger that lurked in its depths.

He still couldn’t believe that he was back on the water—and on a military vessel, no less. Dig had accepted his offer, though his belief in his story was tenuous. He’d called on a former colleague from the Navy, Lyla Michaels. She was no longer in the military but still did contract work for another government organization. The ship was named the Amazo, owned by some group called ARGUS, but Oliver had never heard of that organization before; Dig said that was the point.

Besides the fact that he was hunting down a giant killer shark and searching for his mermaid girlfriend, it was nerve wracking to be back at sea. His mother would freak if she knew he was there and not on a guys’ weekend with Tommy. Oliver barely slept on the journey over. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind would take him back to that terrible night he lost his father. He prayed this voyage wouldn’t be a repeat. He’d done everything he could to prepare this time around—including getting a much larger boat.

(Image via YouTube video by The Govenor)

The crew Dig and Lyla had put together were also former military. It consisted of four men and two women. They didn’t know the details of the threat they sought before boarding but were aware this mission was highly dangerous. Dig waited to brief them once the ship arrived at the proper coordinates. According to Dig, they didn’t care what Oliver thought he saw. As long as they were getting a fat paycheck, they’d go along with anything.

They’d set up the industrial-sized reel and line. Besides chumming the water, they attached a large slab of raw meat to a giant hook and tossed it out the back of the boat.

The first couple of days that passed drew only regular sharks that hunted in these waters, and nothing out of the ordinary showed up on the sonar. Until day three.

“Whatever it is, it’s big and moving fast,” said Helena, the female technician. “And it’s headed straight for us.”

“Arm yourselves,” Oliver advised.

“We haven’t determined the extent of the threat,” said Lyla. “It could be an enemy sub for all we know.”

“It’s got the bait,” shouted Lawton, nicknamed Deadshot, as he engaged the mechanical reel. It was pulling in the line, though not without difficulty.

“It’s the shark. If we’re not careful, he’ll kill everyone on this ship. Just like what happened to my father and the others the first time.”

“This vessel has faced much worse. We can handle Jaws,” she replied.

Oliver prayed once again that Felicity was far away from what was about to go down. But his prayer was uttered too late; his eyes caught a streak of pink beneath the surface. For a second, he wondered if it was just his imagination. But then Lyla cocked her gun.

“There’s something else in the water.”

“No, don’t shoot. That’s not it,” Oliver exclaimed. He leaned over the edge, trying to track the movement, but Felicity had already gone under.

The end of the line surfaced. To their shock, the slab of meat was left untouched.

“Where’d he go?” Slade questioned.

“Oliver, get away from the edge,” Dig warned.

Helena’s voice crackled on Lyla’s radio. “He’s here! He’s right next to the boat!”

It happened so fast, they barely had a chance to react. King Shark sprang out of the water, his giant hands reaching out. Dig spun around, sprinting off the bridge, and dove back onto the deck of the ship just before the bridge ripped away. The boat tilted forward and then swung violently back upright. They were all swept off their feet.

“Son of a bitch,” Dig hollered, trying to right himself.

The shouting started when King Shark’s large fin surfaced. It tore through the water, parting it in giant waves as he circled the boat.

“Fire!” Lyla ordered.

(Image via @dailyflarrowgifs)

Bullets rained down into the water, but did little to stop the creature from ramming the boat once more.

Oliver grabbed his bow and readied an arrow.

“You know how to use that thing?” Dig asked.

“I made sure of it.” He knew guns wouldn’t work on King Shark, and it seemed all of those endless hours spent practicing his archery were about to pay off. Only a specially made arrow, courtesy of QC’s best manufacturer, or harpoon could inflict the damage needed to take down the mutant creature.

To Oliver’s surprise, he’d picked up on the skill quickly and had become an excellent shot. Yao Fei, his instructor, said Oliver was one of his most gifted pupils.

“Aim for the areas we talked about,” Dig reminded him.

Eyes, gills, nose, Oliver repeated to himself.

“He’s under the goddamn boat,” Slade cursed, dropping his gun and pulling out a blade. “When he comes back up, I’ll make sushi out of him.”

(Image via Comic Vine)

A boom sounded from the hull, sending a shudder through the ship. Seconds later, it happened again.

“He’s trying to punch through the hull,” Lyla realized.

“Shock him,” Dig ordered.

“What?” Oliver questioned.

Lyla gave the order to Helena as Dig explained, “This boat has the ability to send out a shock of electricity. It’ll get him away from the boat.”

Felicity.

“You can’t send out shock waves into the water. The local sea life—”

“It’ll be contained to the immediate area. It’s mostly used if we’re being illegally boarded or dealing with a submarine at close range. It’ll probably work better than our guns—at least until we can get a clean shot.”

Oliver shouted when he saw the lines of yellow streak through the water around the boat. Suddenly, the pounding stopped.

“He’s retreating,” Helena said.

Two more of the crew members reported from down below. King Shark hadn’t broken through the metal, but he’d significantly dented it.

“Helena, get ready for when he comes back and turn up the voltage.”

“No,” Oliver argued. “You’ll kill the other sea life too.”

“It’s our best weapon against him,” Lyla explained. “If he does any more damage to the boat, he could sink us.” Before he could argue, she added, “With all due respect, Mr. Queen, you hired us for this job and we’re going to get it done.”

Oliver looked to Dig. “It’s our best bet right now,” he said, siding with Lyla.

Felicity had been close by. Oliver had seen her. She might not have been shocked the first time but if she was still swimming around the area, she’d be hurt for sure. Dead fish were already floating to the top of the water, and a wave of guilt crashed over him. He had to do something.

While Dig and Lyla gathered the group to re-strategize, Oliver discretely made his way over to the stern. The problem was they couldn’t get a clean shot of King Shark. Although the boat was large enough where he couldn’t easily destroy it, it also served as an advantage for shielding him. The only way to get a clear, direct hit would be to get as close as possible.

Making a split-second decision, Oliver quietly released one of the two jet skis stored in the back. Listening over the comms, he learned that King Shark wasn’t far off but conveniently out of range for the shock to work. They hadn’t injured him, but they sure had pissed him off.

The cache of weapons was also at the back of the boat. Oliver loaded up on more arrows and collected anything else he thought he’d need before mounting the sleek black jet ski, now in the water. It looked like a mini stealth tank with its giant rims and panel of buttons. Oliver knew the basics, having been on jet skis for multiple vacations during his young life. This one also had a stretcher attached to the back, which he assumed was used for rescues. Oliver did a quick study and then fired up the engine; he heard shouts behind him as he sped away in the opposite direction.

Oliver went as fast as he could in an attempt to put some distance between himself and the boat. All the while, the tiny voice in the back of his mind called him crazy and every other unflattering name in the book. He couldn’t believe he’d done something so reckless, and yet he knew it was necessary. After a few minutes, Oliver glanced over his shoulder. He did a double take when he spotted another jet ski closing in. It was Dig.

Knowing he couldn’t outrun Dig forever, Oliver went a little further out before cutting the engine. Dig was furious. If looks could kill, Oliver knew he’d already be reduced to chum in the water.

Finally, Dig was beside him. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Look, I know you’re pissed but—”

“You hired me to protect you and then you go traipsing off into unknown waters with a mutant predator lurking around. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You can’t shock the water.”

“Not now that you’re in it. Your jet ski will be disabled.”

“I know. That’s why I did it—to stop you. I told you King Shark isn’t the only inhabitant of these waters. You could hurt innocent creatures.”

“If you’re worried about Flipper—”

A splash caught both their attention. Then he heard it: “Oliver.” Goose bumps broke out on his skin as her soft, melodic voice washed over him.

“Felicity,” he murmured.

The duo whipped around to see her floating toward their jet skis. She pulled herself onto the stretcher, revealing her slim torso and glorious pink tail. Oliver scrambled to face her and instinctively reached out. He crouched down and pulled her into a fierce embrace—not caring she was soaking his clothes. Their lips naturally sought each other—meeting in an even more passionate kiss. She tasted of salt and Felicity, and he held her tighter.

“As soon as I saw the military boat, I knew it was you.”

“You left me.”

“No. You were rescued. It was time.” She stroked his cheek.

“You promised you’d come. I waited.”

“I wanted to. So badly. But I couldn’t until we got rid of King Shark.” Her brilliant blue eyes were pleading. “Please understand. I’ve missed you so much, Oliver. Not a day has gone by that my heart hasn’t ached to return to you.”

“I missed you too, Angelfish. I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. I need you to be safe.” His eyes roamed her beautiful face, taking in every detail of her blushing cheeks and perfect, parted mouth.

(Original gif via @fangirlishsite)

“Your hair is so short.” She smiled. “You look even more handsome than I remember.”

He cupped her cheek and grazed her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She gasped, but not from the kiss. He followed her gaze.

Oliver had forgotten about Dig, whose wide-eyed stare and slack-jawed expression revealed his utter shock. His lips moved but nothing came out. He just kept glancing between Felicity and her tail.

“Is your friend all right?” Felicity whispered.

(Gif via @dailyflarrowgifs)

“Dig, this is Felicity. She’s the one who saved me from King Shark when the Gambit went down. Felicity, this is John Diggle. He’s my bodyguard and has agreed to help me take out King Shark.”

“It’s nice to meet you, John,” she greeted him.

“Nice to mermaid—m-meet you,” Dig stuttered.

Felicity gave Oliver a concerned look. He replied, “I trust Dig. He won’t say anything.” He shot Dig a stern look of his own to make his point. “He’s here to help.”

“Thank you—the both of you. I know I said this was a mer problem, but we really need all the help we can get. My village has allied with a few others to take out King Shark. We have a special poison that I concocted, but our weapons are no match for him. They can’t penetrate his skin. When I saw your ship, I knew I had a chance to lure him toward it.”

“You used yourself as bait?” Oliver replied, the disapproval heavy in his voice.

“It’s no different than your plan. I can’t just sit by and let him terrorize my home any longer. Besides, I had some help from a friend. He’s the fastest swimmer in these waters.”

“Do you have the poison with you?” Dig questioned, finally snapping out of his stupor.

“Yes.” Oliver hadn’t noticed it before, but Felicity had what looked like a netting purse tied around her waist. She reached inside and pulled out a vial.

“If we lace a harpoon gun with it and have a direct shot—”

“Then we could kill King Shark,” Oliver finished.

“Exactly.”

“You can’t get this on your skin. It’s extremely potent,” Felicity warned.

“We’ll be careful,” Oliver assured her and looked to Dig. He nodded back. “Let’s get to work.”

~***~

Oliver and Dig sat on their jet skis, bobbing up and down atop the choppy water, waiting. Before carefully lacing their weapons with Felicity’s concoction, they’d traveled farther away from the Amazo. Lyla and the others would surely be searching for them, and they couldn’t chance them showing up and thwarting their plan. Thankfully, the jet skis had stealth capability.

“You ready for this?” Dig questioned Oliver. The sun was setting in the sky, casting pink and orange hues across the horizon. They had to act before darkness set, or else they’d be even more vulnerable.

Felicity had gone back into the water to relay the plan to the others. When it was time, she sprang up from the water and waved her hand in signal before disappearing again. Oliver forced himself to stay focused, as his mind wanted to wander and marvel at her beautiful form.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Dig murmured his apology several minutes later.

“I get why you’d be skeptical,” Oliver said in acceptance. “You can make up for it by helping me kill this son of a bitch.”

With the binoculars trained to his eyes, Dig said, “He’s coming. Get ready.”

Oliver squinted, trying to see into the distance. Something red flashed by beneath the water. Trailing behind was a giant fin slicing through the surface.

“Come and get it, you bastard,” he muttered.

“Time to make shark soup,” Dig declared and revved the engine on his jet ski.

The pair took off speeding, zigzagging this way and that with the red underwater blur so as not to give King Shark an easy target. Finally, Dig swirled around and raised his harpoon gun. King Shark was coming straight for him. Just before Dig was able to pull the trigger, the mutant monster disappeared under the water.

Dig cursed, frantically searching for his target. Oliver also had his bow and arrow ready, but he was just as blind. He whipped around upon hearing a splash behind him. He just barely stopped himself from releasing the arrow at the sight of Felicity. She yanked herself up onto the stretcher in the back.

“He’s hunting from below. You have to move. NOW!” she shouted.

Dig hesitated, wary of dropping his defensive stance. He’d just begun to lower his weapon when a huge set of jaws engulfed the underside of his jet ski.

“Dig!” Oliver exclaimed, watching in horror as his bodyguard tore off the cuff from his jet ski and dove into the water to escape certain death. King Shark’s mouth closed around the vehicle, chomping it in half. Sparks flew.

“Get out of here,” Felicity ordered.

“I can’t leave Dig,” Oliver replied.

“My friend has him. He’ll keep him safe.”

Before Oliver could object, Dig was whisked away under the water—nothing but his harpoon gun left floating behind. Felicity extended her tail and managed to slide it closer. She took hold of the gun and shouted for Oliver to go. He did as she instructed, speeding them away from the wreckage that was Dig’s jet ski.

“He’s following us,” Felicity said.

“What should I do?”

“Keep going. There is a rock formation up ahead.”

“Do you know how to use that thing?” he replied, referencing the gun in her hand.

“Aim and shoot, right?”

He smirked. “Right.”

The ride was rough as they sped above the water, bouncing up and down from the waves.

“You okay back there?”

“Yes, but hurry! He’s gaining on us!” She yelped as she was almost tossed aside from a rather large wave.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, keep going!”

The rock formation Felicity spoke of finally came into sight.

(Photo [which has been cropped and edited] by 12019 via Pixabay)

It wasn’t wide, but it was high. Oliver pulled right up next to it. He retracted his bow and tossed it in his quiver over his shoulder and reached for Felicity. The only way to grab her and climb was to sling her over his shoulder.

“I feel like the catch of the day,” she jokingly lamented.

Oliver couldn’t help but chuckle. Only Felicity could bring a smile to his face during a time of crisis. His muscles strained to climb the rough terrain. One false move and they’d go tumbling down. King Shark watched them and circled—probably hoping they’d slip and fall right into his eager mouth.

They reached the top, and Oliver set Felicity down. Back to back, they surveyed the threat below. King Shark kept springing out of the water and circling, attempting to find a way to get at them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver noticed Felicity’s tail had transformed into legs. She stood up with her gun, mimicking his stance and movements to track King Shark. It was by far the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, he thought, before scolding himself to refocus.

When King Shark sprang out of the water once more, Felicity took her shot. She missed his body but did hit his tail. The harpoon sailed clear through, and he thrashed about in pain.

“So close,” she muttered.

“He’s wounded at least. Will the poison start working?”

“It should weaken him somewhat, but he needs a much stronger dose for his size.”

They scanned the water. Oliver had expected King Shark to keep thrashing and jumping out at them, but their surroundings had become oddly calm.

“Maybe it did work after all,” Felicity murmured.

“Maybe…” Something still didn’t feel right.

Suddenly, King Shark sprang out of the water. But instead of diving back under, his giant arms and webbed hands clung to the rock. The impact startled them as the ground beneath their feet shook. Felicity screamed as she lost her balance and toppled over the side. Oliver shouted her name and dove to catch her. He ignored the sharp pain as the hard, jagged surface scraped his skin. He caught Felicity’s arm before she slid all the way down.

Tears filled her eyes as she watched King Shark slowly but surely dragging his body up the side of the formation. His movements were somewhat sluggish, leading Oliver to believe that the poison was having an effect. It wouldn’t be long before he reached Felicity, though.

“Oliver,” she cried.

“I got you. I got you, baby,” he reassured her.

“Oliver, you have to shoot him! Shoot him now!”

Oliver had the perfect shot now that King Shark was exposed and vulnerable. But when he’d dove to grab Felicity, his quiver had been tossed aside. In order to grab it, he’d need to let go of her first.

Felicity seemed to come to the same conclusion, and a solemn yet resigned expression formed on her face. “Oliver, you have to let me go.”

He shook his head vigorously. “No.” He tried pulling her up, but a sharp pain in his arm prevented it. It felt like he’d torn something inside.

“You have to. It’s the only way. It’s more than just my life on the line.”

Oliver clutched her tighter. “You’re the only one that matters.”

“Oliver, please…”

King Shark was inches from Felicity. Soon, she’d be in his clutches. Calling forth every last bit of strength he had, Oliver heaved her up and over with a painful grunt. He rolled over to grab his quiver and pressed the button to expand his bow. He shouted from a mix of strain, pain, and determination as he whipped around, coming face to face with King Shark.

(Gif via gify.com)

Oliver stared into the monster’s cold, dark eyes and deadly grin before pointing the arrow straight at it and releasing it. It pierced his eye and blood sprayed out. King Shark jerked backward, losing his hold. His large, lifeless body hit the water with a gigantic splash, soaking them.

“You did it,” Felicity said in awe.

Oliver turned to her, noticing her tail had reappeared. “We did it.”

“You saved me.” Her eyes were beaming. “Thank you.”

“Always.” He drew her into his arms, where she stayed for long minutes. “Call us even,” he whispered against her ear.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They didn’t pull apart until another loud splash interrupted the moment. They looked down to see the red blur and then a soaking wet Dig on the rocks. He coughed and then heaved.

“Not everyone can handle Barry’s speed,” Felicity said sympathetically.

“You’ll have to thank him for me.”

“He’s right there if you want to do it.”

For having such speed, Oliver expected Barry to be a large, buff merman. But he was actually quite sleek and skinny--which probably made more sense since he could glide through the water so easily--with a youthful face.

Oliver waved his thanks, and Barry waved back. The merman looked to Felicity expectantly, who’d gone quiet.

“Do you need time to say goodbye?” Oliver asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll wait then.”

She shook her head. “I’m not saying goodbye to him.”

The sadness in her eyes made Oliver’s heart sink. “No. Not again. You can’t expect me to leave here without you.”

“I have to stay.”

Hurt and exasperated, Oliver replied, “Felicity, if you don’t want to join me on land, then just say it—”

“No, I do. So badly,” she interrupted. “I just…this is my home, Oliver. My family and friends are here. I can’t just up and leave them, not without making sure they’re all right after this. Please understand.”

When Felicity put it like that, he could see her point. Not to mention the crazy story he’d have to make up to explain her sudden appearance to the others. But it didn’t lessen his disappointment. “Of course,” Oliver muttered.

Barry made a signal, and she nodded. “Your ship is headed this way.”

“Then you better go before they find you.”

Felicity stroked the angles of his face, as if committing them to memory. She leaned in for a kiss and lingered there. “I’ll be with you soon, my love.”

“I’ll never stop waiting for you.”

Felicity smiled. And with a splash, she was gone.

(Gif via WiffleGif)

~***~

Despite the chill in his bones, Oliver sat on the beach by the bay as he did every night. He watched the tide, searching for any dark shapes or figures. He’d spotted quite a few seals this past month. Once the wonder of their presence wore off, he fell into an even deeper despair. Felicity promised she would find him, and he believed her. Oliver just wished it’d be sooner rather than later. He missed her so much it hurt.

After another hour, with his teeth chattering, Oliver stood up and dusted the sand off of his pants. His mother would probably have a fit if she knew he’d wore his good tux for tonight’s benefit to the beach. At least with Dig on staff as is bodyguard and driver, he didn’t have to worry about his mother spying on him anymore. Dig had kept his word and didn’t tell anyone about what he’d seen. In Felicity’s absence, he’d thankfully made a friend he could trust.

Oliver turned to leave when movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Something had washed up from the water. Oliver was ready to dismiss it, like all the other times, when he noticed its shape. The creature was small and curved.

Oliver watched, fascinated, as it arched its back. In the silvery moonlight, its long tail split in two, forming a pair of legs.

(Original image via annebuy.com)

“Felicity,” he murmured.

As if she’d heard him, the shadowed figure stood. Oliver watched, entranced, as the moonlight from the water’s surface glowed on her skin. His mind must be playing tricks on him again—as he’d imagined a moment like this so many times before. Each time Felicity would approach him in the same way, like she was walking on water.

(Image via El Brillo Del Mar)

Finally, she stood before him—bare, with her beautiful body on full display.

It wasn’t until her fingers grazed his skin that he came to his senses. “You’re here.”

“I told you I’d return to you.” She rested her hand over his heart. “I’m home now, my love.”

(Gif via @olicitygifs)

Wrapping her up in his embrace, Oliver closed his eyes and breathed her in. “Yes, you are,” he replied, and kissed her.

(Gif via @whoeveryoulovethemost)

The end.

#Olicity #Olicity fanfiction #At the Edge of Ocean #Olicity mermaid AU #oliver queen #felicity smoak #OlicityFanfics #OlicityEdits #mermaids #part 4 #update

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shittyfandomimagines · 5 years

Text

A Family

I’ve been so sick so I’m sorry for being inactive

Word count: 1,774

Flufffff glalore

GIF creds to owner

“Hey, are you ready to go?” Luke peaked his head into the room. I finished braiding the end of my hair, I pull pieces out of the side. I nod and turn toward him once I’m done, he had a huge grin.

“What?” I ask and he just shakes his head. “You’re just beautiful.” He sighs contently and my heart raced still. Even after a year of marriage and 3 years of dating, he still makes my heart do the thing. “You’re so cute.” I lean up to kiss his cheek. “No stop! This is about you and you look so fucking good.” He twirls me around, my sundress lifting with the wind.

“Okay, we’re going to be late.” I stop myself from indulging in this moment. “Do I look overdressed for a family gathering?” He asks and I look him up and down. “Yes, very. This isn’t the AMA’s babe.” I joke and he sighs, going to the closet.

“Here’s the keys, I’ll meet you down there.” He says and throws the keys to me. “Okay, I’ll lock the front door and you can come out of the garage door,” I say as I leave the room, I was still smiling at his playfulness today.

I sat in the driver's seat, I had already put our

P!ATD cd in the player. Luke opened the driver door abruptly and my heart was freaking dying. “I didn’t say you had to drive, I feel bad now.” He had his arms propped on top of the opening, he was leaning down to match the height difference.

“Why feel bad? I’m a big girl Luke.” I joke and he was basically dragging me to the other side. He closes the door and runs back around. “Because I can’t hold your thigh or hand the same way, it’s not the same when I’m in the passenger seat.” He says as he backs up out of the garage, once he was heading down the Main Street, his hand found its spot on my thigh.

“See, look how well it fits and I didn’t even do it on purpose. I’m a creature of habit.” He shrugs his shoulders but I saw the smirk. “Well, you are a creature, a different one for sure,” I mumble and he grabs my thigh lightly. “Baby got jokes today.” He seethes playfully and I shrug. “Maybe.” I drawled out the last part of the word. “We’re a mess.”

——

“Liz!” I was more excited to see her before Luke, I mean I love this woman. “Babydoll, how are you doing? This guy treating you right?” She asks as she hits Luke’s chest, I laugh. “He’s pretty awful to me,” I say as I stick my tongue out to him. “He better not be, he may be tall now but I’ll whoop his butt.” She jokes along and he pouts.

“My wife of 1 year is already replacing me as favorite.” Luke whines and I smile slyly. “Aw Luke, bold assumption. She’s been my favorite since you brought her home years ago.” She says as she gives him a little pat on the arm before heading toward the kitchen.

“He’s pretty awful to me,” Luke mocks my voice and I laugh loudly, my head going back some. “I’m sorry,” I pout and he turns his cheek to me. “I do not forgive, bye.” He stomps off dramatically towards the kitchen and I knew he was playing with me.

I ignore his little antics and sit beside one of Lukes cousins. “Y/n, it’s been forever! I haven’t seen you since Gabe’s 2nd birthday party!” Melissa hugs me and I hug her back tightly. “Where is he?” I asked excitedly as she looks around. “He ran off somewhere, he’ll be back soon because I have his juice.” She waves it around in her hand and I smile.

“Good, I miss that little monster. He’s almost three, isn’t he?” I ask and she nods. “2 weeks away, he loves talking and dinosaurs.” She explains and my heart erupts. “No way! I’m sorry we haven’t caught up!” I exclaim and she shakes her head.

“Hey, you’ve had an exciting year, I felt bad for missing the wedding but Brody was in England for work while we were staying in the states at that time.” She explains and I nod curtly. “Have you guys moved again?” I ask I knew her husband did a lot of traveling for his job.

“We settled in Sydney, his work signed him here for at least 3 years.” She explains and I squealed. “We need to drink coffee every week, have Gabe over one night so you can enjoy time with Brody. I’m so excited!” I basically yelled. “Me too! I’m ready to be those Instagram girls who post their drinks and kids.” She jokes and I high-five her.

“Mommy! Juice!” Gabe comes running down the hall, I smile widely when I hear his voice. “Gabe, how are you, sweet boy!” I exclaim once he came to me instead of his mom, I sit him in my lap. He started kissing all over my face and I saw Melissa taking pictures. “I miss you!” He hugs my neck and I swear my heart could’ve burst.

“I’ve missed you too, can I come to your birthday? I haven’t seen you in one year!” I squish his little cheeks. “Please? Mommy please?” He looks over to Melissa and she nods with a smile. “Mommy said yes, can you bring Wuke.” The way he said Luke made me giggle some.

“I’ll see if he’ll come with me, sometimes he’s a really silly boy.” I joke and he belly laughs. “Can you play outside with me?” He changed the subject and I stand up with him in my arms.

I walk to the backyard with him, putting him down right in front of the door. He goes running outside and I knew I couldn’t keep up. “Y/n come on!”

I go running to the swings that Liz set up months ago for Jacks kids. I sit on one beside his and we swing in rhythm, he was still giggling and making me happy.

I absolutely love kids! I babysat for years and I just needed children around me constantly. I even went into child psychology because I knew I wanted to help kids.

Before I know it, Gabe was on to the next game. He grabbed my hands and just pulled at them as a sign to get up. When I stand, he was pulling me towards the empty spot of grass.

He only wanted to dance and it made me smile, we were spinning around happily. I’d grab his hands and dance with him some. I would do a lot to make sure that the smile was still there.

A loud knock at the door made us both jump in fright, I look over and Luke’s huge frame was at the door. He made a motion that it was time to eat. I tell Gabe as I took his hand and led him outside, Luke had already disappeared.

“Gabe let’s wash our hands first before we eat.” I softly demand, he goes into the bathroom first. I boost him up so I could help him wash his hands. It was so adorable when he started to sing the ABCs to time his washing.

He runs out as I wash my hands, I dry them off and turn off the light. I step out and a yell accompanied by a tight grip made me yelp. “Luke!” I punch his chest and he was laughing harder than he should’ve. “Baby, I’m sorry.” He said while laughing like it made his apology more sincere?

“I hate you.” I shake my head and start to walk past him, but his grip stops me. “Can we talk for a second?” My heart dropped slightly because his mood changed quickly.

“Yeah babe, spill it.” I take both his hands in mine. He was slowly pulling us toward the backdoor, we stop on the porch part. “I need to know something, not in a bad way at all.” He calmed my nerves a little.

He gave me a soft look before stepping closer to me, his arm around my waist lightly. “You love kids, right?” He asks shyly and it made me laugh. “Well it is my day job plus you already know I love kids. What’s gotten into you today?” I ask and push his wild curls back some.

“I mean would you love kids with me?”

I started to think of a miniature Luke, girl or boy, running down the hall with the attitude of his. Their curls bouncing as the jump up and down when Luke comes home from work. Him singing them to sleep or calm them down. The way he’d love them, it made my heart prance.

“You’ve got that silly grin on your face babygirl, are you about to mock me?” He asks sadly and I shake my head.

“Luke, I was thinking of our kids and how much love you’d give them. Of course, I’d have kids with you, we’re married and god I’m the luckiest to have you. But if I had the chance to have your kids, see your love for them, and experience that, God I’d give anything.” I caress his cheekbones.

“Really?” I nod to him. “Luke, I love you and we’re married. I couldn’t imagine loving anyone else but our children. Why wouldn’t I want your kids?” I ask and he chuckles.

“See when I think of the reasoning, it sounds so dumb. It’s just that we’ve never talked about it and I’ve wanted a family with you for a long time. So when I saw you with Gabe, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer to ask.” He admits and I lean up to kiss his lips softly.

“I’d be honored to make a family with you, just as long as you can handle the hormones.” I kid with him and he pecks my lips softly. “I think I can handle it, I mean it’ll be worth it in the end.” He kisses me again.

I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him once more, he pushes my body into his. He tries to make the kisses rougher but I push him away. “We’re not trying for a family here, maybe later. C’mon, they’re gonna start asking questions.” I tug his arm and he groans. “Fine!”

“Wait one more.” He says before turning me to him again, kissing my lips quickly, I smiled.

“What a dork.”

hey guys so so I have a Redbubble account and I’m really trying to sell stuff, if I put it on here would anyone be interested. If not I’m sorry for this horrible promotion

#luke hemmings #lukehemmings #luke hemmings imagines #lukehemmingsimagines #luke hemmings blurb #lukehemmingsblurb #luke hemming masterlist #lukehemmingsmasterlist #luke hemmings fluff #5sos writing #5sos blurbs #5sos imagines #5sos masterlist #5sosblurbs #5sosimagines #5sosmasterlist

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formerlyjannafaye · 5 years

Text

Hide & Seek - Chapter 2

Guess who’s back with part 2 of her fic over a year after posting chapter one? Wow. This is the first bit of writing I’ve done in over 6 months. Its not my best, but I am proud of myself for finishing it. I hope you will check out ch.1&2 to get you in the mood for season 3! Time to work on a Mileven-centric ch. 3!

Part 1 | Read on AO3

"I hate this game."

Will tightened his grip on his wrist as he pulled his legs closer towards himself, hugging them to his body and resting his chin on his knees. He tried to take in a deep breath but it stuck in his throat and he hugged his legs even tighter in an attempt to push the air out, resulting in a quiet strangled cough.

Breathe, Will. It’s not real. You’re okay. Don’t be baby. Calm down.

This inner mantra never worked, but he tried it every time without fail. He pressed his back harder into the tree behind him, almost painfully, in an attempt to focus on something other than the fear.

This forest, its trees and hills, he knew too well. And hiding in this forest was something he was all too skilled at, the act of which was the current reason he was fighting off a panic attack.

Will had hidden in these woods a lot. The most recent time, it was cold and dark, and the air hurt to breathe. He felt permanently damp and chilled to the bone, unable to warm up if he tried. Today, he also felt permanently damp, but from heat instead of cold.

Oh.

It was too hot to be the Upside Down, and now that he looked around, too bright too.

Okay, this is good. Will managed to take in a breath and release it, his shoulders relaxing slightly at the motion. He tried to focus on other things that drew him to the present; the heat of the sun, a bird that flew by, the hard bark of the tree against his back. Will took in another deep breath and focused on releasing the air out his mouth, dropping his forehead to his knees as he breathed in and out, in and out.

The snap of a nearby branch made Will almost jump out of his skin.

“Sorry,” said a voice straining with effort to speak softly. “It’s just me, Will.”

Will peered up to see a curtain of red hair leaning over him. “Oh, hey Max,” he said, trying to steady his shaking voice and hands.

“Are you okay?” Max asked, still leaning over him, her normally piercing blue eyes soft with concern.

Will dusted his hands off on his shorts and rose to stand at her level. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just, you know,” he swallowed roughly, eyes roaming around them, unfocused, “these woods.”

Max’s eyebrows knit together with concern. “Bad memories?” she asked, before immediately wincing. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I just mean…” She gestured around them awkwardly. “I meant, um…”

Will placed his hand on her arm, stopping her. “It’s okay, Max. Yeah, bad memories.” He tried to smile at her encouragingly. “I’m glad you found me.”

She returned his smile, grateful. “Come on. If we don’t hide quick, Dustin will be finding us next.”

They started walking, silently, Max in the lead. She walked quickly and confidently, Will right behind, finally able to keep in stride with most of his friends now that he had a recent growth spurt. In fact, Will was now tall enough to see the top of her head if he lifted his chin high enough. Max was marching forward with purpose – if she was shaken at all by finding Will in the state he was, she didn’t show it, much to his relief.

If Will had learned anything about Max in the past few months it was that beyond her cool skater girl exterior, she was surprisingly kind and compassionate, but never coddling. It was a welcome break from his mom, brother, and the rest of the Party who meant well and tried their best, but at times made him feel babied nonetheless. He wasn’t sure why her compassion seemed to hit the right mark; perhaps she saw in him the same wounded strength that he recognised in her. Maybe that’s why El found it so easy to be friends with her, too.

Max’s confident strides turned hesitant for a moment and then slowed to a stop. Will nearly walked into her right arm, which she threw out from her side in silent warning. Her head jerked back towards him and she smashed the fingers from her other hand over her mouth in a silent, “shhhh.”

Will froze in place, his eyes scanning the trees around them to see if the jig was up. Max was doing the same, her arm still out and pressed against Will’s chest. Suddenly, Will sucked in his breath as he caught a glimpse of someone behind the tree directly in front of them.

Will nudged Max’s arm, gesturing at the tree, and she sucked in a gasp, too, remaining still as stone as a slender hand braced itself around the tree. They heard low murmuring and then a soft giggle that they both recognised immediately.

Will’s shoulders relaxed. “Mike and El,” he whispered.

Max dropped her arms back to her sides and rolled her eyes. "Better go the other way. Don't want to see anything we can't unsee."

With that, she turned on her heel in the opposite direction, moving away from the giggling at the same quick pace as before. Only once they were a few yards away did she slow down enough that Will could walk beside her.

"Are they always going to be like that?" Max asked, tossing a glance over her shoulder, her hair whipping over her shoulder at the motion.

Her tone surprised him. Normally Max was the one telling the guys to lay off of El and Mike for their couple-y antics, but at this moment she sounded nearly as testy as Dustin was earlier when Lucas ate the last strawberry poptart.

"Like a gooey pile of googly eyes who are all over each other? Yeah. Yeah, I think so." Will smiled slightly. "I think it's kind of cute."

"Seriously?” Max’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. “Yuck."

Will paused, thoughtful. "It is a little much sometimes, yeah. But I'm just really glad they're happy. After last year..." Will swallowed, trailing off. "Mike was really sad before, like I've never seen him. And he just, he deserves to be happy. This happy."

Max didn’t reply, her eyes glued to the grass below them. Will glanced over at her and could tell something was upsetting her. Her shoulders had slumped slightly and she was close to tripping on her feet, the way she was dragging them. He was just opening his mouth to ask what was wrong when he heard someone call his name, freezing him to the spot. Just as a quickly there was a crash, and more yelling.

“Dustin!” Max hissed, starting to run.

Will was hot on her heels as they darted through the trees, weaving deeper and deeper into the forest. His feet seemed to direct him on autopilot, and at last he saw their destination in the distance. “This way,” he called, grabbing her by the wrist and diving headfirst into the felt blanket doors of Castle Byers.

They crashed in a heap on the ground, panting from their sprint. They listened for Dustin’s voice but the only sound other than their own breathing was the call of a crow flying overhead.

“I think…I think we’re safe,” Max said, sighing a breath of relief. She looked around, taking in her surroundings. “I don’t think we’ll be safe here for long. Too obvious.”

“I think we’ll be okay here for a while.” Will scooted over to the pile of blankets that formed a makeshift bed in the corner of the fort. Wiping at sweat on his brow, he sat down and stretched his legs out in front of him. “By the sounds of it, Dustin ate it back there. I hope he’s okay.”

Max smirked and plopped herself down beside Will on the blankets. “Yeah, knowing Dustin he’s probably milking that for all its worth. I love the guy, but he’s pretty dramatic.”

Will smiled despite himself. “Yeah, Dustin can lay it on thick. But he’s also the life of the party. Sometimes I wish I could be more like that.” He picked at a scab on his knee absentmindedly. “Dustin seems to always have a good time even if something’s bothering him. He can make things feel normal, even when they’re weird, you know?”

Max bent forward to retie her loose shoelace. “Yeah. He’s good at that. Must be nice.”

Will tried to read Max’s expression, but her hair was hiding her face. He felt jealous for a moment of her long, red hair – it made her stand out but also was like a wall of protection she hung around her when she wanted to, like she was doing now.

“Max?” Will said, nudging her shoulder with his own. “Is everything okay?”

Max shook her hair even further over her face. “I’m fine. Just…overheated.”

“Okay,” Will said, smoothing his hands on his shorts, before pushing the hair off his face. “Its okay if you’re not, too.”

There was a beat of silence where Will thought he said the wrong thing, but then Max exhaled a massive sigh. The puff of air blew her hair off her face, and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m that obvious, huh?”

“Well…you’re not Dustin,” Will shrugged in reply, not wanting to push her further. She hadn’t pushed him to spill when she found him earlier, so it didn’t feel fair for him not to show her the same courtesy. If she wanted to talk, she could, but he wouldn’t force her to – even though he was eager to listen and help.

She fiddled with the yellow scrunchie on her wrist. “Its just that, I don’t know, its stupid, but like, seeing Mike and El today just made me mad. And then you said what you said, and I felt bad.”

Will felt his stomach drop. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, its okay, Will. I should feel bad. I do.” She looked him in the eye then, and he could see hers were wet with tears. “Its not like Mike and El have had it easy then, or even now. Its just that…I understand now how they must feel. I’m just…I’m so tired of hiding.”

“What do you mean?” Will’s brows furrowed, confused.

“Like, Mike and El had to hide for a long time, I know. But now? Now they can hold hands, and be a couple, and kiss, and he’s at her house all the time. But its not that easy for everyone. Its not that easy for me and Lucas, because…” Max’s face was flushed with anger and embarrassment. “Because Billy, and now Neil.”

“Neil. Like, your dad?”

“My stepdad.” Max ran a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face. “He’s an asshole. He thinks he knows everything and can control everyone. But he can’t.” She set her jaw determinedly, eyes blazing intensely. “I won’t let him control me. Ever.”

It was as though Max’s fierce stare scared the sunlight away. The fort was much darker than before, the air tense and heavy with humidity.

Will squirmed a bit, unsure of whether he should ask Max what she meant or if she would say more. She didn’t speak, though; but the darker atmosphere made Castle Byers feel like a more intimate space for this kind of conversation and gave Will a boost of courage he needed to speak.

“Does Neil not like Lucas?” he asked quietly.

Max rolled her eyes and huffed another sigh. “Neil doesn’t like anybody. I don’t know what my mom was thinking when she married him.” She bit her lip, considering her next words. “He doesn’t like anyone, but…he really doesn’t like Lucas. Or his family. Or any of his ‘kind of people,’” she said, making air quotes with her fingers, cheeks reddening in anger.

“Oh.” Will’s eyes widened in understanding. The Sinclair’s were a welcomed, well-respected family in Hawkins, but there were a few idiots who had no qualms about using racist terms to talk about them or other people of colour in town. The people who spoke like that weren’t held in high regard in most social circles, but still, it happened. Lucas didn’t really talk about it (just like Will didn’t talk about the specific names he got called), but he knew it bothered him.

“Yeah.” Max fiddled with a stray thread on one of the blankets. “I tried to make sure he didn’t know about me and Lucas, because I knew I’d get in deep shit if he found out. But he did. And he was so angry. And he said such horrible things…I had told Lucas not to come to the house…” she trailed off, voice wavering.

Will scratched at a mosquito bite on his neck, feeling awkward, not knowing what to say. Lucas had told him before that he’d only been to Max’s house a few times, and had never even gone inside. Will and the rest of the party had never been to her place at all. He was so used to everyone being at his place, like they had been earlier today, that he hadn’t considered how lonely it would to never have his friends in that part of his life.

Will knew what it was like to not feel safe in your own house, but when it was filled with his friends, with the people he loved, he felt safer. He felt happier, and lighter. His heart felt heavy in his chest when he thought how Max hadn’t experienced that since moving to Hawkins.

“What happened?” he asked.

Max stared at her hands, never once looking up. “Neil saw Lucas and I hugging before he left for camp. Hugging! He lost his mind. I told Lucas to get out of there, fast. When I got inside, he yelled at me. Grounded me, smashed my supercom,” she hugged her knees even tighter. “Then he told me, ‘I should do something about this, but I won’t. I don’t have to.’” She trembled a bit, her nails digging into her wrist. “He said that bad things happen to guys like Lucas when they go out with girls like me. He said that soon enough, someone would see us together and ‘put Lucas in his place.’”

Will’s heart was pounding in his chest, horrified at what she was saying. He thought Max’s family didn’t like Lucas, but he hadn’t considered that Lucas could be in danger because of them.

“He said more. I just can’t even say it.” Tears ran down her cheeks now, but she ignored them. “Since then its all I can think about when Lucas and I are out together. What if someone bad sees us? What if someone hurts him, just because he’s with me?”

Will scrambled to wrap his arm around her, pulling her towards his side, and she collapsed into him, resting her head on his shoulder. She was still crying – he could feel the tears on his t-shirt. His mind was racing. He wished he knew what to say, how to help, how to reassure her that it would be okay. But the thing was, he didn’t know that it would be okay.

“Does Lucas know about this?” It broke his heart to see Max so upset. He knew Lucas would be devastated.

Max shook her head, her sniffles quieting. “He knows Neil caught us and he knows I’m being weird. He can tell something’s wrong, I just…”she shrugged against Will’s shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

Will kept his arm around her, trying to ignore how sweaty it was to be so close together. His eyes roamed around the room, stopping on the picture of the party last Halloween. He stared at Lucas in the photo – smiling, happy, safe, like he should be. Like they all deserved to be. He blinked tears from his own eyes and bit his lip, trying to get his own emotions under control.

“I’m sorry your stepdad’s an asshole. I…I know a little bit what its like to have a shitty dad.”

Max’s sat up, looking at Will with concern and gave his knee a gentle squeeze. “It sucks,” she said simply, smearing a hand over her tearstained cheeks.

“Yeah, it sucks. I didn’t have this place then,” he said, gesturing around the fort, “but if I did, I would’ve hidden out here all the time. Just to get away from the yelling.”

“I need one of these,” Max said, stretching her legs out and leaning back on her hands. “Castle Mayfield doesn’t have the same ring to it, though.”

Will smiled. “I don’t know. I like it.” He uncurled his own legs up to sit the same way she was. “But if you like Castle Byers better, you’re always welcome here. Totally. All friends welcome.”

“Thanks, Will,” Max smiled for the first time in a long time, and Will felt like a weight slipped from his shoulders at the sight.

A clap of thunder made them both jump. Will peeked at the sky through a crack in the wooden wall in time to see a flash of light against the grey clouds. “The sky’s dark,” he said, “I think it’s gonna rain.”

Max blinked a stray raindrop out of her eyelashes. “I think its raining already, genius,” she teased.

The odd drop got to them, but the patchy roof of Castle Byers offered at least a bit of protection. It felt nice, and Max took the opportunity to lift her face to the rain, letting it cool her flushed cheeks and wash away her salty tears.

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for telling me what you told me. I’m…I’m really sorry your stepdad is making things so hard.”

“Yeah, well, just be glad you don’t have one. You’re better off,” the steely gleam had returned to Max’s eyes, her mouth set in a thin line.

Will licked a stray raindrop from the corner of his lip. “I’ve never even thought of having a stepdad before, you know? My mom, Jonathan and I – we’re a good team, the three of us.” Like a flash of lighting, Bob’s face came to his mind, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I guess not all stepdads are bad. They can’t all be.”

Max closed her eyes and lifted her face to the rain again. “I guess.”

Will hadn’t really let his mind entertain the idea of his mom getting remarried, especially not since last fall. He hoped if his mom ever did get married, it would be to someone kind. Someone who accepted her quirks instead of fighting against them. It wasn’t likely to ever happen – who would be willing to step into his family, as burdened as they were? Who would possibly be able to handle all the issues and possible dangers that seemed to be tethered to them, no matter how hard they tried to escape them?

An idea came to his mind that made him smile. “I hope if my mom ever gets married, she marries someone better than my dad. Someone like…someone like Hopper.”

Max’s eyes flew open, her jaw dropping nearly to her knees. “What? Your mom and Hopper?”

Will laughed. “What? What’s wrong with Hopper?”

"You don't think Hopper is kind of…scary?" Max exclaimed, thinking of the commanding way the Chief carried himself, or the gruff tone he used to accuse her and El of getting into “shenanigans” whenever they were together (El said he was only teasing, but Max wasn’t always sure).

"Scary? No way! He's kind. He’s…he’s like a big teddy bear," Will said.

"Yeah, maybe with you.” Max huffed, punching Will lightly in the shoulder. “That's because he looks at you like you're made of rainbows and good intentions."

That made Will smile. "Maybe I am."

Max shook her head, her eyes shining with amusement. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Will spoke again.

"You and Lucas deserve to be happy too, you know. You could be like them - like Mike and El."

Max looked at Will sadly, but her voice was hopeful. "Really? You think so?"

Will nodded in earnest. "Yeah, I do."

"I don’t know. You don't think people will judge us? That Lucas could...that he could get hurt?"

Will thought of his friend Lucas – stubborn, protective, incredibly brave; loyal to a fault. "I think Lucas can handle it. He's handled more than you know.” He bumped her sneaker with his own. “You can talk to him about this kind of stuff. His girlfriend told me he's really easy to talk to."

Max blushed, a small smile on her lips. “Thanks, Will.”

"And like I said, you’re always welcome to come here to talk or hang out whenever you want. By yourself, or with me, or with Lucas." Will had always been thankful for the safety of Castle Byers, and he wanted to pay it forward, especially to his friends. “It can be a safe space where you don’t have to hide.”

Max didn’t reply but threw herself at Will, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Just as quickly, she leapt to her feet, reaching out her hand to help him up, too. “Come on. Dustin has probably given up now that its storming. We should get back to the clearing before they get worried about us.”

Will took her hand and let her pull him to his feet. As they stepped out of the fort and into the woods, he felt better than he had when the game started. The rain was cold, but he wasn’t afraid anymore.

“Hopper and your mom,” Max muttered under her breath, shaking her head. “There’s no way I’m not telling El about this.”

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #my writing #hide and seek #sfs #yes here i am a year late #max mayfield #will byers #will anyone read this?#idk and i almost dc because im so happy its DONE

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lailannajacobs · 5 years

Text

Just Dumb Luck pt. 8

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Warnings: 100% fluff

Summary: Your next double date doesn’t quite turn out like you thought it would.

A/N: Hey guys! Happy New Year!!! I know it’s been a bit since the last post but I wasn’t too sure how I wanted to write this next part. Turns out I had to separate it in two so the next part will be very short. HOWEVER! It’ll come out on Thursday so the wait won’t be long! Sorry about forgetting to tag the last post, I’m still not 100% used to it! Let me know what you think, I always appreciate the feedback!!

“Do you think we should wait for them inside?” You ask.

“Maybe.” Loki mumbles, distracted.

He’s glaring at the guy checking you out until he gets the message and guiltily walks back into the tiny Irish Pub. When Brian had suggested getting drinks after work sometime in the near future, you hadn’t thought he had actually been serious about it. It had been two weeks of nothing from Brian. He hadn’t come into the office to look over your almost final marketing plans either, so when he had confirmed his plans with with Loki instead of with you, you hadn’t seen it coming.

Loki had met you after work like usual but instead of walking you home, he had informed you that tonight was your next double date. You had taken one look at your office clothes and hoped Amelie and Brian wouldn’t be too dressed up. Not that Loki ever had that problem, being dressed up in his dark suit like usual. But you hadn’t been expecting a double date on a random Thursday night so your office clothes would have to do.

You stare up at Loki, who’s now peering so intently through the wide bar window he doesn’t notice your observing. You smile. You don’t think you’ll ever get bored of looking at him. But your smile fades as quickly as it appeared. Lately, when you do look at him, you keep wondering how you got here. Not here, here like the bar, but here in this situation. A situation that means you now have a public boyfriend. A boyfriend that doesn’t exist when there are no other witnesses around. You don’t know if here is good for your sanity or not so you try not to think too much about it.

When he had suggested changing the terms of your agreement, you hadn’t known how you would act when you saw him again. Waiting for you after work the next day, you hadn’t had a chance to sort it out any further. He had been leaning against a lamppost as he scrolled aimlessly through his phone and, although he had been the perfect picture of cool and collected, your heart had been hammering in your chest as you walked out of your building. How were you supposed to act? Did you greet him with a kiss? Your palms were getting sweaty. What was he expecting? What had you usually been doing in this situation? You couldn’t have remembered to save your life.

He had lifted his eyes to meet yours and it was like he had known, even at a distance, that you were escalating into full blown panic. He lazily pushed off the post and in a few easy strides, stood so close to you that you had to crane your neck to look up at him. Your pounding heart only quickened and you hadn’t been sure whether it had been because of the nerves or his closeness. If anyone asked you now, you still couldn’t give them a straight answer.

He saved you from having to say anything when he had whispered, “You set the pace…the rules, I mean.” and the seriousness in his words was only cut slightly by the familiar mischief alight in his eyes as he continued, “I can make anything work. Trust me.”

And then, despite the disappointing reminder that this was a game with rules rather than a relationship with feelings, it had been the reminder you needed to calm your nerves. With the pressure eased off your chest, you pressed a featherlight kiss to his lips. You then backed away and a sly grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Where to?” He had asked, a brow arching as if you were about to embark on a daring adventure, “your place, or mine?”

To anyone passing by, they would have gotten the exact image he had been trying to portray with that loaded question; a couple not yet serious enough to have moved in together but exclusive enough just the same. You hadn’t been able to help the smile on your lips because you had known. Known it was all just a part of the game. And changing the terms of your agreement hadn’t changed the fact that you were in this together.

“Enjoying the view?” Loki drawls.

You snap out of the memory, your eyes focusing on him once more, “I can’t say there’s much of a view to enjoy. I had to resort to getting lost in thought instead.”

He purses his lips to contain a smile and tilts his head, “Somehow I doubt that. But say the word love, and I can make those thoughts a reality.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, as if he’s somehow aware of the racy dreams he’s starred in lately. The look on his face makes you think that he’s more than willing to leave the bar to back up his claims.

You force yourself to act normally and roll your eyes, “Save that for when our double date gets here.”

Loki glances down at his watch, “Would you like to wait in the bar?”

You shoot him a pointed look, “I already asked you that question.”

His brows furrow in confusion and you laugh it off, “it’s fine, lets wait inside.”

After grabbing drinks, Loki leads you through the bar, your hand intertwined with his, searching for a seat. You end up somewhere towards the back of the room, near a billiard table and a dart board, standing at a tall, no seated table. It’s pretty packed for a Thursday, the music loud and the crowd happy the week is almost over. After a few sips of your drink you can’t help but notice Loki’s eyes are trained on the couple almost done a game of pool.

“Have you ever played?” You ask, once the man sinks the eight ball.

He smirks, “maybe.”

Still facing him, you back away towards the pool table. His eyes track your every move. “Is that your way of hiding the fact that you’re very experienced and want me to underestimate you so you can win?”

“Maybe.”

“Well it’s not going to work. I don’t plan on losing.”

He stalks toward you in a few quick steps, reaching for the stick on the table behind you, practically pinning you in between his strong body and the table.

Your breath hitches.

“What do I get if I win?” He says just loud enough to be heard over the music and laughter.

Annoyed that he has the upper hand, you shoot him your most seductive smile, “You’ll just have to see later. That is, if you actually win.”

“So clearly that ‘maybe’ of yours was actually a no.” You laugh as the white ball sails past the six and into the nearby side pocket.

His eyes slide over to you and he raises a brow. You doubt you’ve ever seen that much sass in one look and it only makes you laugh even harder. It’s the fourth or fifth game, you’re not too sure, and he hasn’t won a single one yet. More accurately, he hasn’t even come close.

You pick the white ball out of the pocket and place it back on the table to where it was before he hit it. “How about you try that again?”

“I don’t need your pity.” He grumbles, handing you back the ball.

You keep your hand on his, “I thought you said you didn’t lose.”

“I don’t” he grounds out, “thank you for the reminder.”

You’re not deterred by his grumpiness. He’s seen worse from you after a long day of work. You can handle him. He doesn’t scare you.

“Then let me help you make sure that doesn’t happen.”

You put the ball back on the table. His face softens as you slide your fingers up his bare forearms to his black rolled up shirt sleeve at his elbow. You continue up his bicep until you’re standing behind him. He had taken off the suit jacket about two games ago and you had to stop yourself from staring. It had to be a crime to look that good in just a shirt. You try your best to get him into the proper position despite the size difference between the two of you. You play with his long, calloused fingers, moving them until they’re properly holding the cue. With your other hand you go to reach for the back of his stick but your arms aren’t as long as his. You decide to rest it as far along on his toned forearm as you can and slowly push to cue forward. It glides through his fingers, back and forth until you’re pretty sure he’s gotten the hang of it.

“All you have left to do it hit it.”

He angles his head towards yours. His face is so close your lips are almost touching. “And what happens if I miss?” He breathes.

You shrug. “Then we try again.”

His green eyes search yours as if surprised by your answer. You’re sure he can feel your heart hammering through your chest, pressed against his back. His gaze drops to your lips and you’re almost sure he going to kiss you. You’re almost sure you want nothing else. After an electrified eternity, he lets out a breath and turns his attention back towards the ball. You desperately want to ask what went through his mind but you don’t push.

“Then let’s try.” You think you hear him say.

He hits the ball but the shot goes wide. Not by a little but by a catastrophic distance.

You step away and cross your arms, trying to hide a smile, “You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe.”

You’re about to show him how it’s done when your phone buzzes against your thigh. You find a missed call from Amelie a half hour ago and a text apologizing profusely. When you don’t move, Loki raises a brow, silently asking what’s wrong. You can’t tell him what’s wrong. You can’t tell him that you forgot that you were supposed to be pretending. That if it weren’t for this game you play, you wouldn’t have been here in the first place. That he would have walked you home and you would have spent the night alone in your apartment. You can’t tell him that, for a moment, everything felt real. You can’t tell him you forgot this was a game and you forgot about winning.

You shake your head as if to shake the thoughts away with it. “Looks like we got stood up.”

“Good.” His face is dead serious.

You cock your head, stomping down on the hope that maybe he feels the same way, and school your face into your usual playful grin, “Why’s that? You don’t want them to see how terrible you are at pool?”

He looks like he’s about to say something else but shakes his head with a small chuckle. “Exactly.”

“So what do we do?” You ask.

“We have time for one more game.”

You lean forward, your palms flat on the table. “Only one?”

His lips curl into a furtive grin and he racks up the balls for another round.

Part 9

Tag List: @lokixme @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @crescent-night @wrappedinlokisarms @lemonie2 @thatkidofwarandpeace @ihavenofilter @jessiejunebug @tony-sassmaster-stark @bbcsassdeadass @perceptorxbrainstorm @harrymewmew @casualminiaturetimemachine @artsymeadow @laufxysn @save-myself @bilesxbilinskixlahey @grey-stardancer

#Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki imagine #fan fiction #marvel fanfiction #MCU fic #MCU fanfiction #loki fanfiction

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doctorsorders-deathboy · 6 years

Text

Of All the Nights

lmfao i guess i’m back from the dead bitches. (this wip has existed for so long. i could not tell you why i decided to finally finish it tonight but AAA im so excited to be posting a fic again omg) amusingly, my last fic also involved late night baking. i hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 1941

Read on ao3

It was 3:07am on the third of January and Nico di Angelo was dressed in nothing but a too-small fuchsia bathrobe, soaking wet, and about ready to commit bloody murder.

It was very possible, he thought, that the bathrobe contributed to his fury.

This was the kind of disaster that he’d recount to Jason later, with countless creative swears thrown in, though as he stood shivering and fuming outside a stranger’s apartment, it occurred to him that this might be one of those stories that would get more laughs from Jason than shared anger. Asshole.

Speaking of assholes, the door finally opened, revealing a very flustered looking blond man around Nico’s age. For a moment, Nico almost backed off on his prepared rant upon seeing how miserable the blond looked, but when another draft of winter air hit Nico’s still dripping legs, his scowl only deepened.

“What the hell were you doing baking at fucking three in the morning?”

The blond blinked once, twice, three times. He opened his mouth, closed it, and Nico was about ready to break his damn nose when he finally said, “Sorry… Do I know you?”

Nico had never had height to his advantage but hell if he didn’t know how to make himself intimidating. The blond shrunk back as Nico reared himself up to hiss, “Luckily, I was able to make it through 21 years of my life without meeting you before you had to go and nearly set the damn building on fire because of your insomniac cooking. Do you have any idea what kind of night you’ve caused for me? Did it ever occur to you that maybe you should save your incompetence for the waking hours when most people will be out at work anyways? Honestly, what kind of bullshit did you pull to make the fucking fire alarms go off? Did you pull this shit on purpose? Is this some kind of a joke to you?”

The man took much too long to answer again and Nico was collecting every bit of self control he had to keep himself from wringing this jackass’s neck when the response finally came. “Why are you wet?”

Nico must have reared up spectacularly that time because the man quickly amended, “I mean―! I’m sorry, that’s not the point here, um…” He peeked out of his apartment and looked around the deserted hallway. “If you want to yell at me, can you do it in here? I don’t want to wake anyone else up.”

“Like hell, you care,” Nico grumbled but willingly stepped into the man’s apartment. In hindsight, this really wasn’t Nico’s wisest move considering this guy was a stranger and Nico was nearly naked, but the blond seemed about as threatening as a frightened mouse. A tall, blue-eyed, frightened mouse who somehow had a tan in the dead of winter.

“Sorry, who are you again?” the blond asked, closing the door behind a fuming Nico.

“Your pissed off neighbor from two floors up,” Nico snapped. Unfortunately, the blond visibly cringed, looking like a kicked puppy, so Nico muttered, “Nico. Di Angelo,” as a reconcilement.

“Will Solace,” the blond introduced himself in return. He held his hand out to shake but quickly drew it back when it was clear that Nico’s arms were not moving from where they were crossed against his chest.

They stood in uncomfortable silence until Nico repeated, “How the hell did you set off the fucking alarm?” in as dangerous a voice as he could manage.

“I, well…”

Nico shot another fierce glare and Will didn’t waste anymore time in getting to the point.

“I was making pizzelles for my sister’s birthday and the iron must’ve broken because it was making a lot of smoke. It set off the fire alarm which went off throughout the whole building and… yeah. It was a mess. I’m really sorry. I feel awful.”

Nico didn’t doubt Will’s sincerity. The poor man was hunched in on himself with bags under his hands and his hands firmly stuck in his pockets. That didn’t make his story any less ridiculous, though.

“I’m sorry,” Nico said without a hint of remorse, “I think I missed something. Why the hell were you baking at three in the fucking morning?”

Will frowned at him. “You curse a lot,” he muttered.

“Why the fuck were you―”

“I was working until 1am!” Will exclaimed, which was the first indignant comment he’d made. “And I have classes at ten in the morning, but I promised to meet my friend for coffee at eight so I figured I’d just power through and bake when I got home but―” His voice broke off.

Nico’s cheeks tinted with embarrassment upon seeing Will’s face crumple a bit. God, please don’t cry. Nico hadn’t ever been very good at comforting crying people.

“Sorry,” Will said, his voice hoarse. “I should probably… I’m just going to clean up and go to bed. No more smoke. I promise.” He attempted a laugh to lighten the mood but it came out strangled and pitiful.

Nico was about ready to leave Will to mope when he spotted a picture hanging on the wall across the room. Will stood in the center, looking much happier than he did standing in front of Nico. The Will in the picture had a smile that made you want to smile back and had each arm thrown around a friend, pulling them close. He looked jubilant; the kind of person who you felt certain you could approach without fear. It was a painful contrast to the melancholy man Nico had met.

It felt very wrong to Nico that someone so happy could look so broken.

“What about your sister’s pizzelles?” Nico asked quietly.

Will shrugged. “I’ll have to buy her something on my way over tomorrow. Hopefully she won’t mind. I just feel bad, I promised I’d bake for her. Those pizzelles are her favorite.”

Nico considered this for a moment before internally rolling his eyes at himself. “Then we’d better make some pizzelles, shouldn’t we?”

~*~

“You still never explained to me why you showed up at my apartment soaked and nearly naked,” Will said conversationally, as he stood washing the dishes while Nico carefully arranged pizzelles in a tin.

Nico cleared his throat. “That’s a conversation starter I haven’t heard before.”

“Seriously,” Will said, grinning. “Were you swimming?”

“Why would I be swimming in the dead of night?”

Will shrugged. “I dunno, that’s why I was asking.”

“I wasn’t swimming.” Nico put the lid on the tin and turned around, pulling his fuchsia bathrobe tighter around himself.

Will turned towards him, too, eyebrows still raised.

Nico exhaled very slowly before admitting, “I was taking a shower.”

Will blinked. “At… three in the morning?” When Nico’s expression darkened, he added quickly, “Not that I’m judging! Obviously. I’ve taken many middle-of-the-night showers. I just… So, are you a med student, too, or what?”

Nico scuffed his shoe across the floor and grumbled, “No.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“So…”

“I had a dream,” Nico blurted, probably due to a combination of his lack of sleep and the way Will’s eyes had this kind, dreamy quality to them that made you feel like you could tell him anything.

Will’s eyebrows furrowed. “You showered because you had a dream?” His eyebrows shot upward. “Oh.”

“Not like that!” Nico said quickly, heat rushing to his face. “No, oh my god, no, that’s not…” And then he was laughing harder than he had in a long time and Will was laughing with him and he hardly felt embarrassed anymore. “No, it was a nightmare, not…” Nico tried to catch his breath. “Not that.”

Will tsked. “That’s a shame.”

“Yes, very disappointing.”

“So the shower was, what, to calm you down?”

Nico shifted, his mind flashing back to the dark, blurred images of a few hours ago. Bianca’s smile melting off her face, his mother screaming for him, a packed, dark room where people were crying and disappearing one by one, and he was next, he was next―

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Basically.”

When he’d woken up, he’d had to spend what felt like eternity reminding himself how to breathe again. He’d been having more nightmares recently, ones so bad that he almost considered Jason’s advice to start seeing a therapist. I mean, shit, he knew college wasn’t doing much for him in the mental health department but things hadn’t been this bad since he was thirteen.

He tried different things each night to get himself back to sleep―whatever it took. One night he didn’t manage to properly get back to sleep afterwards; he just lay in his bed with the lights on and music playing, counting the beats of his heart as he dozed on and off. That night, after waking up, he couldn’t stand his own skin, couldn’t stand being trapped in his body any longer, couldn’t stand the way he could still feel cold, dead hands from the dream clutching him―

So he’d gotten in the fucking shower and made the water as hot as he could stand and then the goddamn fire alarm went off. Jesus Christ, of all the fucking nights.

“Must have been a pretty bad dream,” Will murmured.

Nico shrugged. “Yeah, I mean… Yeah. I was… Sorry for being so harsh on you earlier. I was still kind of shaken up, I guess. I probably wouldn’t have marched to your apartment for a stupid mistake on a normal night.”

Will grinned. “Probably?”

“Maybe.”

Will laughed. “Oh, here!” He handed a small tin to Nico. “You helped make em, you should get some for yourself.”

Nico opened it to see that it was crammed full of pizzelles. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course. I love the bathrobe, by the way―I never said.”

“Oh god.” Nico groaned. “It’s not mine.”

“Your girlfriend’s?”

And then Nico was laughing again. Christ, that was twice in one night. Something must be wrong with him. “Yeah, no. It’s my sister’s.”

“Ah. Well, for the record, my next guess was that it was your boyfriend’s. I don’t mean to assume anything.”

Nico sucked his teeth. “I don’t have one of those, I’m afraid.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Yes, very disappointing.”

Will smiled softly to himself and Nico noticed that he had a dimple on one side of his face. God. Nico really wished he smiled more.

“Well, thanks so much for the baking help. You really didn’t have to,” Will said as they walked towards the door.

Nico waved him off. “I’m the one who came to your apartment in an angry rage. I needed to make it up to you somehow.”

“Do you frequently get in angry rages?”

“Yes, but mostly just for the aesthetic. Usually I’m too tired to be properly angry.”

Will laughed.

“I’ll return the tin to you, by the way,” Nico added.

“Will you be showing up at my apartment nearly naked again?”

Nico flushed and laughed nervously. “No, I promise I will be fully clothed.”

Will hummed disappointedly. “Well, I suppose I can’t have everything,” he murmured. He smiled then, full and warm, and his eyes crinkled at the corners, and yes, Nico definitely wanted to see that smile more. “Goodnight, Nico,” he said cheerfully.

The door shut before Nico could figure out a way to respond. He stood there staring at it for a solid thirty seconds before turning and heading back to his apartment. When he got back, he decided, he’d put the pizzelles in a different container. He wanted to return the tin to Will Solace as soon as he could get away with.

#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #fanfiction #fanfic #pjo #hoo #toa #fluff #request #anon #i cant believe im actually posting a fic in 2018 omg

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minigenos · 6 years

Text

Holidays Part 1

Part 1 (you are here) ― Part 2 (soon)

Genos plans a romantic holiday evening for Saitama. However, as this is the One Punch Man universe, things quickly start going to shit when monsters attack.

Small snowflakes swirled through the chill winter air. Despite the cold, couples were walking hand-in-hand or arm-in-arm as they admired the myriad number of strung lights placed through one of the large parks of Z City. Other pairs had taken to the warmth of local department stores or restaurants as they enjoyed some last-minute holiday shopping or a snack. Everything was so picturesque and romantic that nobody there wanted it to end.

Suddenly a powerful breeze blasted by the couples, causing some to get knocked onto their rears. Responses varied from confused questions to angry shouts and even worried murmurs. Was that an earthquake? A monster?

Nope.

It was Saitama and Genos.

A certain hero had overslept and now the pair were going to be late to a very important event.

“WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP, GENOS?!” the hero yelled as they dashed through the park at inhuman speed.

“I did, Sensei!” Genos replied. “You then proceeded to hit me on the head like an alarm clock! It took me almost half an hour to recalibrate!”

“Oh. Oops. Sorry,” Saitama said with what might be inferred as a guilty smile. He must have had another one of those vivid dreams were he took on an opponent that didn't fall after a single punch. Those were the best.

But maybe not the best for his room mate. Luckily for them Genos knew how to do most of the repairs himself in order to save time, though there was still a visible crack where the cyborg's face and hairline met.

Well, it wasn't that noticeable. Mostly... Kind of...

It... was actually pretty noticeable. But as long as Genos didn't get hit by anything else it would probably be alright until he could go off and get it fixed.

Saitama made a mental note to tone the vivid dreaming down a notch to be on the safe side.

After what seemed like ages running – but was closer to maybe five minutes max – the pair arrived at a large banquet hall. Normally such places would be busy with huge parties, though the parking lot of this one was mostly empty.

“Um, Genos, are you sure this is where we're supposed to be?” Saitama asked as they approached the door.

“Of course. This is the place. I double-checked before leaving to make sure.” The cyborg failed to mention the fact that he checked in on the hall in person half a dozen times since he reserved it to make sure that his reservation was still in their computer system and that the building itself was still standing. He wouldn't want to lose his reservation or find out that the hall had been destroyed at the last minute.

Saitama casually inspected the building's decorations. “Wow, this place is pretty fancy,” he commented as the LED screen plastered on the wall depicted a scene of Santa's sleigh being pulled over a forest of trees covered in snow. Numerous strings of LED lights hung along the top of the hall flashed in bright holiday colors and rhythmic patterns. Even the trees and light posts gussied up in tinsel and, not surprisingly, even more LED lights. The hero couldn't help but feel out of place here. This wasn't somewhere he'd normally visit.

“Genos, are you sure we're supposed to be here?” he asked again.

A wispy female voice cut off the cyborg before he could reply.

“No, you're riiiiggghhht where I want you~”

A over-sized string of tinsel quickly wrapped around Saitama's leg. Once it had gained some footing even more strings of tinsel shot out from the shadows and wrapped themselves tightly around the hero.

“Sensei!” Genos yelled as he jumped back to avoid getting caught in whatever had wound around his mentor. Despite the cyborg's worry, Saitama stood where he was, completely unperturbed by his predicament.

“Hmm, yessssss~” the monster hissed as it completely emerged from the shadows. Its main body was composed of many strands of thick, interwoven tinsel, which branched out into ten long independently-moving tentacles. The creature's head was shaped almost like a snake's, complete with fangs and even engorged jowls that contained massive venom glands .

Using built-in WI-FI to access the Hero Association's database Genos was able to narrow down their attacker to a single monster – Ten-SSSel, a fast and lethal Tiger-Level threat. He quickly read through the information on its page; its main weapons were venom, the ten tentacles that could easily pick up and strangle a human, and the innumerable number of tinsel-like strands that covered its body, which could be hardened at will to turn into ultra thin, razor-sharp knives.

“Sensei, watch out for-” the cyborg's warning was cut short as a tentacle struck him in the chest and sent him flying many yards back.

“Ssshut up!” Ten-SSSel hissed. It was only interested in fresh meat, not metal and plastic. With Genos out of the way the monster returned its attention back to its prey.

“You'll be a perrrfect holiday meal for me, don't you think~” Ten-SSSel cooed as its tentacles began to coil harder around the hero. After a few seconds it noticed that its prey had become... bored. Angered by Saitama's lack of any response and, more importantly, what should have been his death, the monster hardened every single strand on the tentacles that were wrapped around its prey.

Under normal circumstances most humans would have been killed just from the constriction alone. Some required Ten-SSSel to use its more powerful secondary ability to slice open and exsanguinate them before it could feast, though the monster personally never liked having to go so far as the meal just wasn't quite as filling without the blood.

But this bastard not only survived its first attack, every strand that should have cut him open snapped and shattered like toothpicks!

“Are you done?” Saitama deadpanned.

“H-how!? You ssshould be dead!” the monster hissed as it reeled back from the shock. It moved the damaged tentacles around and watched in horror as harmless pieces of tinsel fluttered to the ground.

The hero was too bored to wait any longer for an answer. With one lightning-fast punch Ten-SSSel exploded into countless pieces of tinsel, which landed on anything within a thirty foot radius.

“Oh. Pretty,” Saitama said with a small smile. It faded pretty quickly once Genos informed him that tinsel was bad for the environment and everything would have to be picked up before the rain washed it away.

Well, Saitama was sure the workers here would take care of things after the holidays.

“So, um, why are we here?” the hero asked as they finally entered through the hall's ornate double doors.

“I reserved the hall for us tonight,” Genos replied.

“No, but really. Why?”

“I reserved the hall for us tonight.” The cyborg was a little confused as to why his mentor doubted him. After a single second to think things over, Genos came to the conclusion that Saitama was more surprised that he had gotten the reservation rather than he had reserved the entire place for just two people. If that was the case then a simple explanation would clear everything up.

And so Genos started explaining, in painful detail, every step of how he rented the hall.

“I called back in June to ensure I could get my reservation in before the holiday rush. Because it would be just the two of us I didn't have to pay extra for chairs and tables, and since I wasn't sure what you would like to eat for tonight I ordered a hot food as well as a cold food buffet, as well as a fruit and salad bar. As for the alcohol-”

“GENOS! I GET IT!” Saitama exclaimed in order to shut the cyborg up. He sometimes forgot how ridiculously long-winded Genos could get with his explanations, and he really didn't need to know every step of the process.

But, he did mention something about food, and a lot of it to boot...

“Let's just get in there,” the hero said in a steady monotone. He pulled on one of the doors to the main hall, but it seemed stuck. It must have a stubborn lock or something; a bit strange for some place this fancy to have such faulty mechanics, but hey things happen. Saitama grabbed the handles of both doors and stood back as far as he could. With one good pull the doors flung wide open, allowing them inside.

And, of course, their entrance into the room was met with terrified screams as the workers rushed around them to escape.

“M-monster!” one of the caterers screamed as he dashed for the exit door.

“Well well,” said the creature as it turned around. It was a massive wreath at least ten feet tall, if not more, with dangerous weapons in place of the usual baubles. Barbed wire whips replaced strands of tinsel, live grenades in place of pine cones, and knives of various shapes and even colors instead of ornaments. One of its hands held a barbed wire whip while the other grasped a large red hunting knife.

“I don't know how you got past Ten-SSSel,” it scoffed, “but I can guarantee you ain't gonna be leaving here outside of a body bag!” A pair of glowing red eyes stared down at the two heroes as long tentacles made out of what seemed to be pine extended from its body. For the life of him, Saitama couldn't figure out where the damn thing's mouth was.

Genos looked at the floor behind them. Ah. It had trapped the people inside by blocking the door with its tentacles. He remembered seeing this monster's name when he was looking at Ten-SSSel's information.

“This is Gouliday Wreath, a Tiger-level threat,”the cyborg said to Saitama. “His powers are-”

His mentor wasn't standing next to him anymore. He had already run up to the monster.

“Oh? And what do you think you can possibly do to someone like me?” Gouliday Wreath laughed as Saitama stood in front of him. Their size difference was blatantly apparent at this distance, and for all intents and purposes it didn't seem like the human stood much of a chance.

But this was Saitama.

The hero grabbed a chunk of the monster's body and clamped down on it, preventing his opponent from escaping.

“Don't you know not to show up without a reservation?” Saitama said as he flung Gouliday Wreath as hard as he could. It sailed through one of the large windows and landed many, many yards away on the pavement, which caused some of its grenades to become activated by accident.

All that was left once the explosions were over was a large crater in the parking lot and tiny shreds of what had been the monster spread out over a roughly 200 foot radius.

Saitama turned to Genos, who had walked up to him. “That was a pretty cool line huh?” he said with a smile.

“Yes. But,” the cyborg pointed towards the broken window. “What are we going to do about that?”

Oh yeah.

Whoops.

“Uh, you bought insurance too, right?” Saitama said with a nervous smile.

He hadn't.

Genos made a mental note to leave a contact card so the hall's owner could call the Hero Association and get the window fixed.

With all the monsters taken care of and no further threats in sight, the hall's workers quickly barricaded the window and cleaned up the mess from Saitama's fight with Gouliday Wreath. As much as everybody wanted to leave and call it a night, they were almost positive that their boss would fire them if they left such a prestigious, high-paying customer to fend for himself and his one guest.

Luckily for them, all of the food was located in the direct opposite corner of the hall from where the monster had shown up and all but two items were covered in some way, which was easy enough to replace.

Saitama sat down at the only table in the entire place with uncovered seats. Genos sat down carefully next to him; the cyborg wasn't sure just how much weight his chair could hold and didn't want it suddenly collapsing on him. After a few quick tests he was sure that the chair had been reinforced to his specifications and moved to a more relaxed pose. What counted as relaxed for him at least.

The aroma from all the food was beginning to make Saitama's stomach rumble in anticipation. From what he could see there was a huge tray of various sushi and sashimi, a fragrant miso soup, and next to that was yet another large tray of seasonal as well as pickled vegetables. On another table was a container filled with steamed rice that sat directly next to a container of grilled fish sealed in – from what Saitama could smell – a sweet teriyaki marinade. And adjacent to that was the cold foods table – a big bowl of fresh garden salad along with a very sizable mixed fruit plate. The final table featured a tower of various miniature cakes and pastries sitting next to a small tray of obscenely fancy cookies. Built into one of the walls was a mini bar manned by an older-looking gentleman. From the looks of things he seemed to have more than enough drinks on-hand to suit literally any taste.

It was. A lot. Too much even. Saitama knew he couldn't finish everything, and even with Genos' unique metabolization process a good amount of the food would go to waste.

And since he was a hero he had to think and act like one.

He walked up to the caterers that were standing around with nothing to do since there were only two guests in the entire hall, and casually pointed back towards the buffet.

“Ah, yaknow if you want to grab some food go ahead. Genos and I can't finish all of that ourselves.”

Nobody seemed inclined to move. Instead they just gave each other confused looks. Their evening had already been bizarre enough, but now they were being invited, encouraged even, to eat right along with the Demon Cyborg and whoever the hell he had brought as his one and only guest.

“What are you waiting for? Saitama-sensei said you could have some food, so come and get some,” Genos said in an unusually stern voice. A couple of workers jumped in response; they hadn't expected him to say anything to them. Well, if the Demon Cyborg said it was ok, then it was ok, right? A few brave souls hesitantly made their way to the buffet and picked out a few pieces of their favorite foods from the selection there. Eventually the rest joined in, including the mini bar worker.

“Saitama-sensei,” Genos whispered, “why did you invite everyone to take some food?” He wasn't questioning the man's choice so much as why he decided to do such a thing.

“Ah, well, there was obviously too much food for us,” the hero replied. “And um, well, I just think it's better for people to eat together.” He couldn't tell if Genos believed him or not. Saitama quickly racked his mind for some sort of final reason to give his excuse some real punch.

“After all,” he bullshitted, “preventing wasteful use of food is something heroes gotta think about too.”

Oh god. That was bad, even for him.

Saitama glanced over to see Genos scribbling furiously in his notebook. Dammit don't write that down! he thought to himself.

“Yes you're absolutely right! Every little act helps” the cyborg agreed as he closed the notebook and stashed it away within his body.

Goooooddddddddd.

Not wanting to dig his hole any further and make Genos think he was smarter than he actually was, Saitama quickly changed the subject. “Merry Christmas!” he said while raising the bowl of soup he had poured himself.

“Merry Christmas,” Genos replied as he held up his own bowl of rice.

Despite the earlier setbacks, their night was coming together to be one of the nicest ones either of them had experienced in a long, long time.

#one punch man #opm #sagenos #genosai #minisfic #holiday #christmas

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spideycents · 5 years

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B-Roll // Shawn Mendes - 1: picture’s up

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

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a/n: This starts off cringey because I had no other ideas so I just started writing a conversation between me and a friend.

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"I can't help it that I love drama."

"You definitely CAN help it," I laugh. I tug on my seatbelt to loosen it a little so I can get comfortable in the passenger seat of Michael's car. "You just choose not to cause the drama is so good."

"It is! It's too good!"

I laugh harder, a snort dares to sneak into my giggles and I cover my mouth with my hands. Not that I'm nervous to laugh around Michael, I mean he's my best friend. I'm just kind of nervous just in general around all people, no exceptions, but the snort caught me off guard and I'm afraid of it being followed by bad breath or another snort or a burp or something gross and weird.

"The tea just doesn't stop spillin," he continues. "It's some good ass tea and you know a bitch loves a good mess."

"This is true." I nod. "You do. And a good mess is always quality."

Michael chokes back a laugh. "Quali-tea..."

My laughter immediately stops and I look at him. He's grinning wildly and derpily and has about five chins right now. He's a looker.

"I'll see myself out," he says as he unlocks the door and reaches for the handle.

I know that he won't actually open it. I know this. I trust him. He's not that fucking stupid. But, I still reach over him and pull his arm away and lock the door. It's a scramble and we almost rear-end the car in front of us, but at least that voice in the back of my head can calm down now that Michael's definitely going to stay in the car.

"DAAAAAAAMN!" He hangs onto the word as he laughs at me. His eyes are wide and his hands grip the wheel tightly and his elbows are locked. "Are you trying to kill us?"

I fall back in my seat and curl into myself.

"Sorry," I mutter and look down at my hands in my lap.

"It's okay," he laughs lightly. "You know I wouldn't really do that, right?"

I shrug. "Yeah," I say quietly.

"Uh...no. You are not going to sit here and tell me you thought I was actually going to jump out of the car."

I shrug again. I don't like lying to him. I don't see the purpose in lying about things like this. I mean, I know it's trivial and he's just kidding, but...I don't know...some part of me actually believed he might do it. Part of me wasn't just worried, I was scared. Why would I lie about that? He'd know I was lying anyway. He always knows. I don't know how. I guess I just wear everything on my sleeve. I'm easier to read than a stop sign.

"Well, I wouldn't, okay? I wouldn't ever do that and you know I'm joking, so just...like...try to be more chill, okay?"

I laugh. "Me? Chill? Who do you think you're talking to right now?"

He laughs too. "I know, but..." he sighs. "Just try, maybe?"

I throw my hands up. "I don't know how! Teach me your wayss. sensei. Teach me how to be more chill."

Michael grins hard again and glances at me then grabs his phone.

"Oh my dear sweet lord," I groan. "What have I done?"

"Don't judge me," he whines through gritted teeth.

"The Smartphone Hour" from Be More Chill starts to play and he quickly turns the volume up and starts singing. He's offkey and kinda sounds like a dying raccoon that's stuck in a trash can that's being run through a wood chipper. He loves to sing though and we've talked about how god awful we both are so it's cool and, honestly, I kinda like it. It's a familiar raccoon sound and it's a raccoon that I care about and don't want to hurt it's feelings, so I'll just let it be.

I don't know the lyrics to any songs in Be More Chill, even though Michael plays them all the freaking time, so I pull out my phone and scroll through Instagram.

The first thing to pop up on my feed is about Shawn Mendes.

Breaking news, according to Entertainment Weekly, it was just announced by Deadline that singer, Shawn Mendes, is confirmed to have been cast in the remake of The Breakfast Club.

"Oof."

Michael glances over at me. "What?"

I turn my phone to show him and he tilts his head back and lets loose a guttural groan that's also kind of a shriek and a sob at the same time. It's a mixture of sounds from the belly and head and back of the throat and your inner spirit animal. We call it: The Dying Puma.

"This is why we can't have nice things!" He shouts at the roof of the car. I laugh 'cause I'm trying not to freak out about the fact that he lets go of the wheel so he can grab his head and he's now driving with his knees. I know he's tall and I know he does this a lot, but...I don't know...my internal scream is deafening.

"I mean, they're so preoccupied with the fact that they could..." I let it drift off and Michael picks it up perfectly.

"They didn't stop to think if they should. Exactly." He claps to punctuate the point--really bringing it home. Not that he needs to. I literally let him finish my sentence. "Can't wait to watch that steaming pile of shit dominate the box office."

"Here's hoping it doesn't open against anything that actually deserves to make all the money," I grumble.

"Oh it definitely will."

Michael follows release dates and box office reports with the kind of dedication that most people have for fantasy football. Come to think of it, he's even apart of a fantasy movie league. I don't think he does very well, but he still talks about his picks every single week and walks me through his predictions for how he thinks every film will perform over the coming weekend.

He shrugs. "I might see it though."

I laugh in a way that sounds, and kind of feels, like one of those sneezes that you manage to hold back and force down your throat.

"What?" He looks at me; he's smiling, but he knows I'm judging him.

God, am I judging him.

"You have a problem," I say simply.

His smile grows, "I do. I've never said I don't."

"You're obsession with Shawn—"

He holds up his hand to stop me. "Not an obsession. This is love, Lyla. I love him."

I side eye him, hard.

"I do," he laughs. "I am in love with him."

I roll my eyes and laugh lightly. "I'm gonna kick you." I look back at my phone and keep scrolling through Instagram. Unfortunately, my feed is 80% posts about Max's casting.

Michael must feel my pain because he laughs again and says: "You'll never be rid of him. He's everywhere." He waves his right hand around and wiggles his fingers for extra emphasis.

God, maybe I'll tuck and roll out my own door.

I open Google and search for more articles about Shawn. The Deadline article pops up first so I click on it and read aloud.

"Shawn Mendes to star in the highly anticipated Breakfast Club remake."

"Highly anticipated by who???" Michael's skepticism is exactly how I feel right now, but I continue.

"Just two weeks after news broke that Paramount would be remaking some of it's John Hughes' classics, it was announced early Tuesday morning that Grammy-nominated singer, Shawn Mendes has joined the cast of the modern-day reimagining of Hughes', The Breakfast Club. His role is yet to be revealed, but Mendes is the first casting to be confirmed after it was announced that Greta Gerwig (Little Women) is set to direct and the screenwriting pair who brought you Love, Simon and This Is Us: Elizabeth Berger and Isaac Apataker, along with and John Francis Daley (Spider-Man: Homecoming) were picked to pen the script. Fans eagerly anticipate Mendes' long awaited, and long promised, big screen debut."

"Well, they got that right!" Michael whoops. "Anyone else been cast yet?"

I repeat the part of the article where it says Shawn's the first person to be cast.

Michael flips me off and I smile. He sticks his tongue out while he glances at me, but I ignore him.

"That's our exit," I point out. His blinker's on before I finish and he moves over to get off.

A car swerves into the lane ahead of us, causing Michael to stop on his breaks for only a second. It continues into the exit and comes to a sudden stop. A middle-aged white guy gets out of the driver's seat and storms around to the passenger side.

He's pointing at us.

And he's yelling.

"What the fuck," Michael laughs, trying to mask his nervousness as the guy walks into the highway and toward our car, still yelling at the top of his lungs.

He wants to fight with us, I think. I don't know why though. We didn't do anything.

Michael has to swerve to avoid him, but the man reaches out and hits the car. His palm smacks Michael's window. Michael puts his foot to the floor, we barrel onto the exit ramp—but the guy manages to hit the back of the car again as we pass him.

"What the fuck?!"

"Holy shit!"

"What the fuck is going on?!"

"He's insane!"

Michael's speeding too fast as we go around the turn for the clover exit and we're both thrown a bit to the side. Thankfully we're the only car on the ramp so we can drift through the two lanes and not have to worry about anyone.

"What the hell was that?" I shout once we're off the ramp and heading down the straight road that goes right up to the park gates.

"What the fuck just happened?! Did I do something?!" The corners of Michael's mouth are pulled tightly down and he's squinting his eyes again. It's a face he makes a lot whenever things just get too much for him and he doesn't have words or emotions or anything else to express how he's feeling. Somehow, this face says it all.

"No."

"Then why the fuck did he do that?!"

"I don't fucking know!"

Michael laughs awkwardly and I laugh too and our nervous energies bounce off each other until we're legitimately laughing so hard that my stomach hurts and Michael's wiping tears from his eyes.

"That's the stuff of nightmares," he chokes out.

"It's always the crazy ass white people," I chuckle.

"Please kill me before I turn into that."

"With pleasure."

We pull up to the gates of the park as a mass exodus of people since it's almost to sunset and closing time. Michael's laughter calms down and he composes himself as he rolls down his window to talk to the guards.

"We're with the movie," he says and the woman in the hut waves us on.

I shake my head. "I can't believe that's all it takes for us to get through. They don't even ask us what movie."

Michael shakes his head too and his laughter bubbles up again. "A mess."

I feel my laughter coming back too. "A whole ass mess."

***

I plop my big canvas bag down on the table and drop into my chair. It's plastic and collapsible and probably over a decade old, but right now it's the comfiest thing in the world. I'm exhausted and my coffee doesn't seem to be helping today. I'm tempted to fold my arms on the table and fall asleep resting on the soft, squishy cushioning of my biceps.

I'm pretty sure Michael's got the same idea cause he pulls out a second hoodie from his backpack and bundles it up, sets it on the table in front of him, then rests his head on it and hugs his arms around it, holding it tight. He's wearing another hoodie, but he needs that one to conserve the little body heat he probably has right now. I wish I had an extra jacket to wrap myself up in too. I'm wearing fleece leggings and an XL men's sweatshirt, but I'm still shivering. Michael's in his usual shorts, t-shirt, and hoodie combo so he's probably already suffering from hypothermia or frostbite or both.

I wonder if that pile of cheap Walmart fleece blankets is still around. A lot of people walked off with their blankets when we wrapped this morning, but maybe there's still a few lying around. They got kinda soaked and gross last night when it rained, but here's hoping they're dry by now.

I'm too cold and too tired to care about how clean they are. Hell, even if they made me so sick, I'd have to go to the hospital, I'd take that over the shitfest that has been this shoot.

We're almost done with our second week of filming here and we're not even halfway done. We were supposed to finish earlier this week, but the weather has not been kind. At this point, they're just trying to wrap first team here so they can move onto their next location, but the extras will still be stuck here with second team to finish up the stunt stuff since this is a major battle sequence. I believe it's supposed to be the climax, but I refuse to read the book this movie is based on. Julie-Anne read it cause she reads everything and Michael started it, but he can't stand it and Julie-Anne wishes she'd never opened it so I'm not even going to bother. I don't even know the first word and I'm perfectly okay with that. They'll tell me things they think I should know.

I finally see the mound of blankets on the ground up against the tent on the side where the exit to the costumes and hair and makeup tent is. The pavement is still wet and there are still a few puddles around so I highly doubt that any of the blankets are actually dry, but I'll get Michael to go check.

"Hey," I bump his arm gently, but he doesn't even slightly budge. It's barely been a few minutes and he's already out like a light. I swear he's narcoleptic or sleep is his superpower or something. My vote is the latter. He's got that Peter Parker look to him. I wouldn't be surprised. He could fall asleep when he's hanging upside down with Spidey. They'll call him Possum.

Even though I'm really freaking tired, if I fall asleep right now, I'm going to be groggy and miserable all day. Might as well fight my way through this current bout of drowsiness, chug some coffee, eat breakfast, and keep going. There's no food set out yet, so I down a few gulps of coffee and open my phone.

Instagram loads up instantly and it's still on the posts about Shawn Mendes being cast in The Breakfast Club. I scroll through a few of them, most use the same photo, which I'm pretty sure they just copy/pasted from the Deadline article, but a few are different. There are a lot of red carpet shots, but a few magazine photoshoots. Then MTV has a TBT from his appearance on The 100. Pretty sure that's the only acting he's done. At least, it's all I've seen.

I keep scrolling until I recognize a Variety photoshoot and click on their article

Of all the 80s classics audiences are desperate to see get the remake-over, The Breakfast Club may not be the first on people's minds, but it's definitely all anyone can talk about right now. News broke this morning on Deadline that singer Shawn Mendes has been cast as one of the misunderstood teens stuck in Saturday detention. Which teen was not confirmed so we're left speculating if Shawn is more of an athlete, brain, or a criminal. This reporter would honestly like to see them switch things up and maybe the heartthrob will be a basket case or, better yet, a prince?

The article goes on to talk about the director and writers who I read about before so I scroll past.

The film does not yet have a release date, but production is slated to begin in late September in Atlanta, Georgia.

Holy shit.

They're filming here.

I kick Michael's chair and falling sensation startles him awake.

"That was cruel," he glares at me.

"Sorry, but you have to see this."

I hold my phone right up to his face. His eyes are squinting, but I can see them moving along the page as he reads. His eyebrows raise slightly when he reaches the end.

"Find out the casting company so we can apply," he mutters, then lowers his head back down and covers his face with his hoodie. My eyes are trained on my phone, but I can't help being distracted by his fidgeting. He must not be able to get back into the comfort of before cause he moves around for a minute, adjusting the jacket pillow, the hoodie he's wearing, and his chair. He ultimately puts his hood up and tugs it over his forehead, then scoots his chair back a few inches before curling back up on his makeshift pillow.

I google more information about The Breakfast Club. It would be cool to work on it with my friends, but so far I'm not seeing any extras casting calls. I did find a crew call though.

I don't have much on my resume, but I really do want to break into the tech side of production. I've only done two other projects so far and one of them was a student short film where I did special effects make-up for a ghost. The other was my first ever film, which I wasn't signed onto officially. I had a friend in the cast and he let me tag along. Since I didn't have a specific job, they just used me wherever they needed me.

I find the email to contact about crew, then copy/paste it into Gmail and attach my resume. I add a few more things to it, mainly rehashing my contact info, skills, and previous sets I've worked on and what I did, then I paste in a few photos of the makeup I've done. I hope it's enough and not too much.

I read back over it, edit a few misspellings, then hit send.

Fingers crossed.

When I look back up from my phone, there are a few more extras here now and they're getting settled into their usual spots. We can sit anywhere, but it's the same kind of thing that happens in high school and college, once you've chosen your spot, it's your spot until the end of time and if anyone tries to take it from you, you'll fight them.

Michael fought a group of obnoxious 16-year-olds once and one of them actually tattled on him to their mom and she came over and scolded him. He has no tolerance for the minors or set moms and I can't say I blame him. They're the literal worst.

Our favorite casting assistant, Shelly shows up about 10 minutes later and she waves at me happily, then sneaks over quietly and scares Michael awake. He's about to murder her until he realizes who it is, then he relaxes and gives her a hug. We laugh and talk for a while and he asks about the I-9s, but apparently, we can't help her fill them out anymore cause she got in trouble for it last time. But, she slides us three I-9 forms and checks our names off the list, then goes back to her table to get her work done before call time and we fill out our forms, tuck them in our bags, then leave to go find breakfast.

When we come back, the last member of our trio, Julie-Anne, is in her seat. Her completed I-9 on the table next to an open book, her knitting in her lap, and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

There's no way she's been here longer than five minutes, but she's a master at making herself at comfortable.

She looks up at us as we walk up to the table and her eyes light up when she notices our plates.

"Ooo!" she exclaims excitedly. "Pancakes?"

I nod and tilt my plate to show her and before we can say anything, she's up and speeding out of the tent to find food.

"You gotta hand it to her," I laugh lightly. "She works fast."

"Yeah." Michael sets down his food and drink and picks up her knitting. When we wrapped yesterday, she'd just started a new blanket, it's almost halfway done now. "Too fast."

We look at each other skeptically, then back at the bright neon orange blanket, then at each other again, and burst out laughing.

---

So, yeah. That’s chapter 1. Let me know what you think.

#b roll #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes story #shawn peter raul mendes #mendes army #shawn #mendes

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ndanya-qiri-ffxiv · 6 years

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Nightmare - Slave to the Past

This one is sort of violent even by my standards. Just, gratuitous for no reason violence because that’s sort of who Aebbe can be at times. I didn’t go into any real detail, but still wanted to warn people. At the title implies, it is, in fact, a nightmare.

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They had found her. The bruising on her cheek, her arms, her back and stomach were evidence enough of that. They had jumped her in Ul’dah, down an alleyway. Three thugs.

They were dead now.

She was not.

They had been stupid enough to keep a map to find their way back to their camp, where they were setting up the next ‘event.’ She’d found it now. Old, abandoned warehouse. Typical.

She surveyed the landscape. The ground was dried and cracked. The air was stale. The riverbed that the warehouse was built by was empty and dry. There was one guard posted, and he looked like he was drunk. Why should they be prepared? There was no reason for anyone to be here yet. They hadn’t invited the crowds to see the bloodbath yet.

She drew her blade and shrugged her shield from her back to her arm, and then walked with purpose toward the warehouse. She guard spotted her and drew his own sword, walking toward her unsteadily.

“Oi, you can’t be here. If y’want t’ see th’ show, come ba - urk,” the guard blinked, coughed, and spit up blood.

Aebbe had not paused nor broken stride, and had immediately run the blade into and through the man’s belly. He looked from the blade buried in his stomach, up to her, met her green-eyed gaze - and she smiled at him, a cold, cruel, and entirely too pleased smile. She yanked the blade back out of his belly and shoved him away, so he didn’t bleed on her any more than necessary.

He collapsed and she continued.

She yanked the front door open and stepped inside. The dozen or so workers froze and turned to look at her, wide-eyed. There was silence, until one of the more thuggish looking of the group spotted the blood splatter on her and her sword. He stalked toward her, drawing a wicked looking knife from his waist. “Th’ fuck did you do t’ Roric?” Aebbe glanced over her shoulder at the body of the guard outside, then back to the main closing the distance on her. She clucked her tongue before speaking, in a sweet sort of tone, “My - what I have I done?”

The man let out a guttural roar and raised his knife, lunging at her. She turned the attack away easily with her shield and swung her sword in the same motion, cutting through his arm at the elbow easily. The man’s roar turned to a scream and he stumbled to his knees, clutching at his stump.

Aebbe turned to him, walking toward him the same pace someone may walk through a park. She took a deep breath, taking in the copper scent of the blood, and then sighed dreamily. The man tried to squirm away from her, leaving a trail of blood behind him, “Th’ fuck do you want, lady?!”

“Two things. I want t’ know who’s in charge of this fucking thing and where he is.”

The man sputtered and shook his head, “I don’t know where th’ boss is! I don’t even know where he is!” He grunted as his back reached the wall. He’d run out of real estate to drag himself over, and was now stuck. Aebbe knelt down and set her sword down on the ground beside her, only to draw her hunting knife. She placed the blade against his throat, on the left side, “Wrong answer,” she said sweetly, drawing the blade slowly from left to right, slitting his throat. He reached out with his good hand to try to stop her, but did not have the strength.

She wiped the blade on the man’s tunic and then stood, turning back to the room at large. The remaining people were regular workers, staring at her in abject horror, frozen with fear. “Who is in charge, and where?” She called out to the rest of them, sticking her knife back into its sheath and lifting up her blade. No one answered, and a few backed away from her. She clucked her tongue, and growled under her breath, “Fuck it. Let’s kill everyone.”

There were no more guards to protect them. There was only the one exit, and Aebbe was between them and it. She did not hesitate, charging toward the remaining workers. She sliced through the first, stabbed the second. The screams were immediate, and did nothing to give her pause. She reveled in the sound, in the blood that soaked her armor and skin, in the smell of the gore that splattered on the walls and the floor.

A trail of corpses or mortally wounded lay behind her as she approached her last target. Aebbe grinned madly, eye sparkling with malice, when a voice called out to her. A familiar voice. A voice she had not heard in fifteen years.

“Aebbe…”

She turned slowly away from her last victim, who promptly slid down to a seated position against the wall, sobbing. Aebbe’s eyes fell onto the man before her. Tall. Green eyes. Dark hair. Her hand tightened uncomfortably around the hilt of her sword. Her eyes narrowed, and the sweetness of her voice was a chilling contrast to the scene around her, “Father dearest! However did you make your way here? You look well!”

She paced toward him slowly, though her weapon lowered. He stood his ground.

“What have you done, Aebbe?”

She paused and looked around. The floor was slick with blood and gore. She turned back to her father, smiling prettily at him, “I guess I’ve come a little undone, haven’t I?” The smile faded, and she regarded him coldly, “You’re in charge now, aren’t you? I don’t know how and I don’t care.”

She resumed her approach, and still he stood his ground. She sheathed her sword and drew her hunting dagger instead. She reached up and placed her blood-soaked hand on the back of his neck, placing the tip of her blade against his belly. He swallowed her, and she smiled again.

“Aebbe, I’m sorry -” He gasped as she pushed the blade forward, slowly but hard enough to break skin. He grabbed at her wrist, but she did not relent.

“You aren’t sorry. You are an asshole. You sold me,” she drove the dagger a little deeper, but then paused, looking at his chest. “You broke your daughter’s heart.” She yanked the dagger out and shoved him backward, toward a wall. He grunted when his back hit the wall, and opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t allow him. She slapped her grimy hand over his mouth and hushed him gently, tapping the blade against his belly again, where the diaphragm was.

“Funny thing - it’s easy to break an emotional heart. Much harder to get to the physical one, with a dagger like this. Either directly between ribs,” she moved the dagger to where she could do so, poking firmly but not stabbing, “Or up underneath the ribcage and through. You need a long knife though…”

She paused, turning the blade vertically and pressing it against him. “Hm. Just short. I guess we’ll have to do some work.”

With that, she pressed the blade into his belly again, right at his diaphragm. He gasped and struggled, but she held fast.

“You have to go behind the ribs,” she said quietly, as she turned the blade vertically slowly. She continued to push the dagger, now upward. “And then go up.”

She got the knife up to the hilt and wiggled it around a little, but then clucked her tongue. “No heart. See? It’s not deep enough like this!”

She looked up at her father’s face. It was contorted in fear and pain, and tears ran freely down his cheeks, blood freely down his chin. She snarled.

“You do not get to cry. Not after what you put me through. You deserve so. Much. Worse.”

She accentuated each word with a further shove of the knife forward - and she felt it pierce his heart, just barely, as she finished her sentence. He froze, and then began to slide down the wall. He would suffer, but he not for much longer. She opened her mouth to speak, but felt a small hand grasp her shoulder firmly.

“Aebbe -”

Aebbe drew her blade from her hip and then stabbed it past her hip and behind her in a lightning quick motion, before the voice registered with her. She heard a pained and surprised gasp, and only then did it click.

“No. No, no,” Aebbe whirled, letting the blade go as she did - and met J’aqois’ gaze immediately. The miqo’te’s eyes were wide, ears pinned back to her head, and she sank slowly to her knees.

“Why..?”

“J’aq! J’aq, how did you - why are you even here?!” Aebbe sank to her knees with the other woman, reaching up to take the miqo’te’s face in her hands. She saw the life draining away quickly. J’aq murmured something, but Aebbe couldn’t catch it. Then, she was gone.

… and Aebbe jolted awake, gasping sharply, covered in a cold sweat. She had, in fact, been jumped by some thugs. She had, in fact, traced them back to their current base of operations. But she had set up camp, some good distance away, to rest and scout before approaching.

She sat up on her elbows on her sleeping back, gasped for breath. She knew J’aq was nowhere near her. She was here alone. She had been for the better part of the day, and into the evening. For long, long moments she sat in silence. Then, slowly, she stood to pack.

She would not face this alone.

#aebbe brand #rp #mahji writes #ffxiv #character building

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b-o-s-t-o-n · 7 years

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Infatuated- Part XIII

"I know what the world can do to a girl who only sees beauty in it. Like you. Somehow you... You always make me smile. And I don't think I've ever thanked you for that." -Emily Prentiss

One hour.

One hour until the mission was underway and Spencer had to watch a literal serial killer grind up on his girlfriend.

He felt sick.

Reid had spent the entire morning telling Belle it was too risky. She was at least an entire foot shorter than the man she was going up against. No matter how strong she was, this guy was stronger.

Spencer didn't understand why Wolfe and Prentiss couldn't go undercover alone. Why did they need Belle, too?

He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the three women to get dressed. They needed to make sure they got noticed, so Penelope had sent an entire wardrobe full of party dresses over to the station.

Belle had chosen the smallest, tightest dress possible. It was a matte army green color with straps that crossed and made a pattern in the back. It fell in the middle of her thighs and hugged all of her curves perfectly.

She looked amazing, which made Reid even more nervous.

Belle, Cheyenne, and Emily sat in front of a big mirror that was placed in the room where they had set up the day before. JJ was helping them apply heavy eyeliner and contour their faces and chests. The girls told Morgan and Reid that they needed to give them space, so the two men went to the lobby to make coffee run.

"So, I finally figured it out," Morgan snickered as Spencer stirred 5 sugars into his cup.

He looked up at him questioningly.

"What do you mean?" Reid asked before taking a sip of his coffee.

The steam from the hot liquid began to fog up his glasses. He took them off and wiped them against his shirt.

"The girl we talked about. I figured out who it is," he replied, taking a sip of his own drink.

The steam from Spencer's coffee suddenly felt cold against his heated cheeks.

"W-what? Who?" He stammered, trying to regain his demeanor.

Morgan had a big mouth, so him knowing about Belle and Reid wouldn't turn out well.

"It's Wolfe! You're totally into her, that's why you freaked out at Hotch yesterday," Derek taunted, confident in his claim.

Spencer let out the breath he had been holding in.

"You're right," he breathed, relieved that Morgan had no clue what was actually going on.

Reid would rather have him thinking he had a crush on a random agent than knowing the truth about his relationship.

Belle clasped her eyelash curler shut as she sat in front of the mirror beside Emily. They were working on the finishing touches of their looks as Hotch attached small microphones to the straps of their dresses.

Belle applied a few coats of mascara to her eyelashes to pull everything together. She never wore this much makeup; she doubted anyone did. But, they had to look the part, so she'd have to deal with it for the remainder of the night. She was already dreading attempting to wipe it all off later.

She stood up and extended her arm out to Emily's shoulder in order to balance herself as she put her heels on. Penelope had sent over 5 inch black pumps specifically for Belle because she claimed she needed to 'look taller' in order to get the unsub's attention. Belle stepped back to look at herself in the mirror.

"Wow," she heard a voice announce from behind them.

She turned around, almost tripping over herself from the unfamiliar feeling of wearing such high heels.

"Shut up, Morgan," Emily barked as she threw a beauty blender in the direction of the door.

It went passed Morgan's face and hit Reid instead. He laughed as the small sponge-like object dropped to the floor.

Belle felt his eyes quickly fall upon her, making her blush instantly. She turned back to face the mirror, pretending not to notice them on her. She could see Reid's gaze raking up and down her body from the reflection over her shoulder.

"Look at your girl," Morgan whispered, nudging Reid in the stomach.

Belle glanced over to where they were looking to see Cheyenne emerging from the bathroom. She had a shimmery gold and silver cocktail dress on, topped off with an indigo necklace, which perfectly matched the heels she was wearing.

She looked absolutely stunning.

Belle felt a sharp pang of anger in her chest at the realization that Morgan was referring to her as 'Reid's girl' and not her. She tried to hide the embarrassment and hurt on her face as she made her way past the two men and out the door.

She needed air.

Belle walked down the sidewalk just outside of the police station, feeling the winter breeze against her exposed skin. The frigid air helped to calm her down, cooling the heat that was currently rushing through her body. The door squeaked as it reopened behind Belle, causing her to jump. She wasn't in the mood to hear Reid's attempt at an apology right now.

"Belle?" a female voice called out behind her.

It was Emily.

"Em," Belle's voice wavered as she walked over to her.

Emily had been her best friend for months now. Belle quickly bonded with her back in September when she arrived at the BAU, taking her under her wing.

Em knew what it was like to be the new girl, so she helped Belle as best as she could. They had sleepovers together during the weekends when the other FBI ladies were out with their boyfriends, watching rom-coms together and drinking red wine.

They'd text each other during horrible dates to call the other and fake an emergency, or go to Pet Smart together just to look at the kittens on display. She truly was the best girl friend Belle had ever had, and it was killing her to not be able to talk to Emily about her love life.

"I need to tell you something," Belle whispered, deciding not to keep secrets from her anymore.

Neon oranges, pinks, blues, and greens illuminated the floor, flashing in different squares every few seconds. The walls vibrated from the various beats of club music being ricocheted around the room at high intervals. The bar, located in the far back, was swarmed by young men and women looking to have a good time. Each black leather stool was occupied by the intoxicated body of someone hopeful to find a one night stand. The air was warm from the constant movement of singles on the dance floor, smelling faintly of weed and cherry sour vodka.

Reid sat in a booth across from JJ, purposely positioning himself so he had a perfect view of Belle sitting at the bar.

Everything was going to be fine, he kept reminding himself.

The tiny earpiece hidden by his hair made a small static noise, indicating that it was turned on. He looked up at JJ, who nodded back to him, nonchalantly.

The mission was officially on.

They sat there for what seemed like hours, when in reality, it was only 20 minutes. Both men and women kept approaching Belle, asking to buy her a drink, but none that fit the profile.

Emily and Cheyenne were having no luck as well. Reid heard the bartender, who had been informed of the agent's real identities, ask Belle if she needed anything.

"Something that looks bubbly but has no actual alcohol in it, please," she whispered back to the young woman behind the bar.

The bartender smiled at Belle before turning to get a glass. She poured Sprite and Grenadine over ice and mixed it together with a stirring straw.

It looked rather authentic.

Belle thanked her quietly as she went back to her post, sipping casually on the fake drink.

"9 o'clock," JJ kicked Reid lightly under the table.

He flinched, scowling at her. She moved her eyes to point in the direction she wanted him to look. He glanced to his left, scratching the back of his head to look as casual as possible.

Spencer immediately recognized the man JJ was talking about. He was an exact replica of the police sketch they had seen back at the station.

The man was tall, taller than Reid, and had long, blonde hair, tied back in a low ponytail. His teeth were almost as yellow as his hair; littered with gaps and holes from the different types of drugs he probably took.

His clothes looked as if he'd been wearing them for the past three days, covered in dirt and stains that made it seem like he had been rolling around at a farm recently.

He looked like the type of person Spencer wouldn't be caught dead hanging out with.

"Hey sexy lady," the unsub growled, looking up and down Belle's body.

Reid saw her physically shudder before plastering a wide smile on her face.

Spencer's hands formed fists under the table.

"Hi there," Belle replied politely.

"What's a girl like you doing all alone?" The man asked, taking a seat next to her at the bar.

Belle looked as though she wanted to vomit. To hide her disgust, she simply smiled and took a sip of the red drink she had.

The man's eyes flickered to the drink in her hand before falling back onto Belle's chest.

Reid felt like he was going to explode.

"We should move in," he whispered to JJ.

This creep was already too close to Belle.

"No!" Belle hissed through the earpiece, making the unsub stare at her as though she was crazy.

She was talking to Reid, but the man didn't know that.

JJ kicked Spencer again, a little harder this time.

"Sorry, I just meant, oh no, my drink is almost gone," Belle tried to recover.

It seemed to work because the man raised his hand up to get the attention of the bartender.

The woman poured the same drink for Belle, taking her time. She looked terrified, as she should. She placed the new drink in front of Belle with a shaky hand, spilling a tiny bit on the counter. She apologized without making eye contact before taking the man's money and hustling away.

"So, do you dance?" the unsub asked Belle, nodding his head in the direction of the dance floor.

She glanced over to where he was pointing, spotting Cheyenne in the middle of a group of people.

While Belle's eyes were on the dance floor, the man slipped something into her drink.

Reid shot up from his seat, not wasting another second sitting in that booth. He hurried through the crowd of people, trying to get to Belle as fast as possible.

Cheyenne, Emily, and JJ all jumped up behind him, drawing their guns from their holsters. Everywhere Reid turned, a drunk man or woman would bump into him.

"Move!" Spencer shouted loudly over the music.

He was now boxed in by a group of dancers, still yards away from the bar.

"Stop! FBI!!" JJ shouted from behind him, pointing her gun towards the bar.

He looked over the crowd of people to see Belle's limp body in the arms of the greasy man. He started to carry her towards the back entrance of the club before a gunshot rang past Reid's ear.

Belle dropped to the floor as pedestrians sprinted towards the front door, frantically trying to get away from the scene that was unraveling.

Spencer was drowning in the amount of bodies trying to flee, getting pushed farther and farther away from the bar.

"Belle!!!"

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #matthewgraygubler #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #criminalminds

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