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yeoreos · 3 years

Text

hate sex || jjk (m)

pairing :: jungkook x reader

genre :: 18+, fwb!au, smut, basically pwp

summary :: jungkook decides to show you how much he loves hates you.

warnings :: jungkook is in love with you, smut (corruption kink, big dick!jk, size kink, pussy slapping if you squint, oral (f. and m.), overstimulation, unprotected sex [be safe], sex in front of a mirror, denied orgasm, overstimulation, dirty talk, hair pulling, crying but it’s because jungkook is not showing any mercy on oc, hard dom!jk, somewhat brat!reader, a pinch of soft dom!jk, tattooed!jk, i think that’s it?)

wc :: 3.6k (of pure smut)

note :: first imagine ever please be kind :(( lowercase intended !!! (unedited)

“strawberry funnel cake frappuccino for y/n?”

your ears perked up at your name being called by the barista, indicating that your order is ready. you pushed past people, shocked at how packed it was despite it being a wednesday morning.

as for your situation, however, you needed that coffee. last night, the night of your date with your tinder match, didn’t happen. you realized how much time and energy you wasted looking your best for someone that didn’t even appreciate it. the rest of the night, you spent crying; not for your date, but for the makeup look you worked so hard on not to even get a reaction from anybody. but you didn’t let that stop you.

you grabbed your phone from the beige purse you had in your hands and threw the purse on your bed. from the lockscreen, you swiped left to open the camera app. from the angle it was in, the camera captured your feet.

a few small pictures to upload to instagram wouldn’t hurt, right? and so for the next hour or two you spent in the bathroom having a photoshoot, silently thanking yourself for not throwing away the tripod that sat in the corner of your room, serving no purpose until that moment.

you took a few snaps in the bathtub with the water reaching the brim and your favorite scent littered into the water, along with a few rose petals to decorate it. this is going to be amazing.

you sat in the bathtub, naked, careful not to let the water touch your face. with one person’s face in mind, you took the pictures, added a filter on them, and posted them onto your instagram, without a caption, because you sucked at those.

locking your phone, you sat in bed and went back to sleep, approximately around the time when the sun started rising, so of course you needed that coffee.

your best friend, Jimin, had heard all about it and had even been the first one to like and comment on your post. he commented so many times about how good you looked and how it was your date’s loss that he stood you up. it got to the point where he almost got shadow banned.

that was until he flooded your private message with more comments.

there was a specific comment, however, which caught your eye.

jeonjk97: damn babygirl

of course jungkook would comment something like that. but it didn’t fail to make you feel like you were on top of the world.

fuck him and fuck his stupid self.

and the situation you were in was exactly that.

jungkook always had a preference when it came to girls. although he wasn’t the playboy type, he was still a boy and needed his desires to be satisfied. he preferred the innocent ones; “they have the tightest cunts” he would say.

but it was more to it than that. he knew that the innocence was fun to break down, to stain it with his touch where he knew his one-night stand would come back for more and fall to his feet, practically kissing it. he wanted to watch the way they would turn from someone so pure to someone equivalent to him in bed.

he figured that you were a virgin by the way you almost always had your nose in a book. but the first time he asked you to come over, he was shocked to see that the person you showed to everyone was nothing but a mask to hide it all.

this was the first time you had caught jungkook’s intriguing eyes.

jungkook always reminded himself that he was only there to take, not to give, but it was getting harder and harder to do that each time you gave yourself to him. for him to use but he couldn’t. not when saw you as something more than just a quick fuck.

to make matters worse, you hated him with all of your guts, yelling out words that shouldn’t be uttered to him when the two of you weren’t in the premises of your (and sometimes his) bedroom.

“you’re a small, pretty thing, aren’t you?” he murmured to himself, standing next to your bed. you were sitting up on it, looking at him with a fire behind your eyes and a small smirk playing on your red lips. at that moment, he didn’t care about the feelings he had as all he wanted to was to take his cock out of the confines of his boxers and fuck your throat until you were gagging and choking on it, digging your nails into his thighs for leverage and a request to let you catch your breath.

“yes.” with your chest heaving up and down, the wetness between your thighs became more, the ghost of your orgasm pulling at every nerve in your body. that tingling feeling in your veins has you in a haze, wanting nothing more than just him.

he smirked, his purple hair falling over his eyes, and from the light hitting his back, it casted a shadow over them, making everything more exciting. every feeling and craving of touch for him was heightened, and you were getting tired of waiting.

“hurry the fuck up, jeon!”

bad mistake.

immediately, he went up to you and grabbed you by the neck, pulling you so you were propped on your knees and in front of him. jungkook looked down at your lips and bit his own, thinking about the pretty sounds that would be coming out of them in a few moments.

with his free hand, he trailed his fingers down, teasingly running them down your skin to your shorts. the ghost of his fingers has your breath caught in your throat and as soon as he reaches your clothed mound, he presses his fingers down. you let out a sound near a gasp and shut your eyes immediately. a harsh slap is delivered to your pussy and you mewl out in pleasure.

“don’t raise your voice at me, understand?” his fingers toying your clothed clit was making it hard for you to voice anything back, so you nod your head instead. “words, baby.”

oh he was evil.

“y-yes.” he smirked, satisfied with your response. he had never seen you so desperate for him in all the times he had spent with you.

he was aware of the fact that your panties had been soaked with your arousal, wetting his fingers in the process. “tell me what you want, princess.”

you swallowed air, choking on your own words for a second. you couldn’t believe what you were about to ask for. “i want- want you to fuck me...” with the way you trailed off, jungkook was sure it was more than just that, so he quirked a brow, giving you permission to speak further, “want you to fuck me like you hate me.”

something in jungkook seemed to snap because his eyes went a shade darker and an animalistic growl rumbled from deep within his throat.

all of a sudden, you were thrown onto the bed as jungkook got on his knees and tore your panties open, a loud gasp echoed throughout the room.

at first, jungkook took all the time in the world, leisurely toying with your clit and licking your opening until you turned into a moaning mess underneath his tongue, tugging on his bright locks like the floor was lava or something like that. it was only until you begged him to go faster, that he sped up the process of his tongue, assaulting your pussy. his strong grip on your thigh blocked you from distancing yourself from him and whenever you would, he suck on your clit, pulling it into his mouth and using his tongue to abuse the little nub. you grinded your hips into him, embarrassed of how good you were feeling, despite your strong negative feelings towards him on a daily basis.

“perfect little pussy,” he mumbled against your clit, “made for me to fuck.” that was all it took for your orgasm to come crashing down on you, legs shaking, sinful sounds escaping your lips.

but that wasn’t it, he wanted to fuck you like he hated you, so he showed no mercy again when he entered two fingers into you right after your orgasm, the burning stretch making teas accumulate in the corner of your eyes. his mouth was back on your clit, still sensitive mind you, before you could protest any further. his hooded eyes stared at you, wondering how someone could look so beautiful in this situation.

it was only until your back arched off your bed as your mouth was gaped with no sound coming out, fingers holding onto dear life in his hair and pressing his face further between your thighs, that you came for the second time just by his mouth.

it wasn’t like you were against the idea, because in all honesty, you did ask for him to use you, but oh god if you knew the dangerous territory you were stepping in, you would’ve backed away a long time ago.

after you had calmed down from your high, although heart still racing, you slid down to the floor and got on your knees. jungkook wasn’t expecting this, all he wanted to do now was to fuck you until he rearranged your guts, but who was he to back down from your request of sucking his dick.

jungkook was haste to unbuckle his belt, already envisioning how you would look sucking his cock. however, he didn’t have to envision that for too long, because without any restrictions, you licked the crown of his dick, sending a shiver to go down his spine.

as for you, however, you didn’t realize how much you missed his dick until it was right in front of you and you could finally touch it. the pre-cum shined on his tip and it was waiting (im)patiently for you to give it some sort of relief. he reaches down for your hand and brings it to his dick, indicating that you do the action here. you grab it’s base and glide his tip over your mouth, smearing his arousal on your lips.

you part your lips and he allows you to have control over how much you were going to take in. when your warm mouth closes around him, he breathes out loud. you swirl your tongue over the head and taste the salty pre-cum. the feeling of his veiny cock feels so good in your mouth and you couldn’t wait for it to be shoved in your pussy. you start bobbing your head, using your hands for the parts your mouth couldn’t cover.

“oh fuck,” jungkook curses and entangles his fingers in your hair, pushing it back and holding it into a makeshift ponytail. it wasn’t until he wasn’t satisfied with how much you were taking into your mouth, that he starts bucking his hips into your mouth, going slow at first, then deciding to stay at a ruthless pace.

you opened your mouth and slacked your jaw, allowing him to use you as he pleased. jungkook curses underneath his breath when your submissiveness turns him on even more, but he’s quick to guide his cock in and out of your mouth. and truth be told, he could probably do this in his sleep with the amount of times he’s fucked your mouth. you gag around him, eyes glistening with warm tears as he continues his pace. jungkook holds your head when the feeling is too much and he becomes vocal.

letting out loud moans and groans, jungkook goes insane, almost cumming then and there.

but he couldn’t. he wanted to cum inside of your pussy.

your scalp physically hurt when he let go of your hair and slipped his dick out of your mouth, permitting you to catch a breath which he stole.

he picked you up by your waist and threw you on the bed, your head into the soft covers of your bedsheet. jungkook held you by your hips, pulling them up, so your ass was in the air and your head was in the mattress.

he took his sweet time teasing and making you push your ass back for more, but he wouldn’t give himself to you just yet. he wanted to teach you your lesson.

and once he bottomed out, you moaned into the sheets, aware that you were drooling on them. it just felt that good. you loved it all. loved the way he was balls deep into you, loved the way he gripped your hips that it was going to leave marks, loved the way he was chanting your name like a mantra when you clenched around him, loved the way that he was the one fucking you.

as much as you would hate to admit it, jungkook was an all-rounder; perfect at everything he did whether it be sports, gaming, cooking, fashion. you name it, he could do it. including fucking you and that was your favorite part about him. that no matter how much the two of you hated (and one even loved, but that’s a conversation for another day) each other, you would always go back to each other like two opposites on a magnet.

this view was nice, but jungkook wanted more. he wanted to see your face contort in pleasure, but at the same time, he wanted to see the way your cunt would take his cock. so, from the corner of his eye, he peeks at the mirror and considers the idea for a bit before moving around on the bed so you guys were in front of the mirror.

“w-what are you doing- mph!” jungkook enters you without even giving you a chance to complete your sentence. he brutally snaps his hips so his dick dives into your pussy, your walls doing nothing but contracting against his shaft.

jungkook bends down and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling it as your neck cranes over to see the two of you in the mirror. through your reflection, you could see the way jungkook looks back with the same hungry and lustful eyes. your eyes travelled to your position and the sight alone had you gushing for him, more wetness pooling. you look at the way your hair now looked like (and probably did) it had knots in them, your lipstick smeared across your lips and some parts of it getting on your cheek and chin, your mascara smudged over your eyes. you looked bad, but a good type of bad. it had jungkook ramming his hips into yours even more.

“look at you,” he says although that was what you were doing the whole time, “such a dirty slut. who’s making you feel this good, huh? who?!”

“y-you, oh fuck jungkook, please don’t stop, don’t stop please, i’m going to-”

“don’t you dare.” the way the words came out of jungkook’s chest has your heart rate speeding up and you could’ve sworn he got harder inside of you.

in response, you mewl and shake beneath him, finding it hard to hold in your orgasm. with the way your vision blurred, you knew you were close, your release so close yet so far away.

jungkook leaves open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck, sucking into your skin, leaving a dark purple mouth he knew you were going to try to cover up the next day. for a little while, jungkook stills his hips, ravishing in the way your mouth is hung open and hands were shaking, trying their best to support the weight of your body. he holds that position, his lips pressing tender kisses on your neck. although you desperately want him to fuck you, another part of you wants to cherish this moment.

so, you close your eyes in return and moan.

once he finished torturing the delicate skin of your neck, his eyes get drunk on your body, intoxicating him. at first, he watches through the mirror, watching the way your chest heaved for air. his eyes soon travelled to your back, to your ass, where he saw how deep he was buried into your cunt.

“your cunt is taking me so well, babe.”

once he sees that you were ready to take more, he pulls back and in one swift thrust, he pushed into you, a scream ripping through you. he does that again and again, causing the same reaction from you. jungkook once again stops when he’s fully inside of you, torturing you just to make you beg for him. you need him to fuck you relentlessly, so that’s exactly what you vocalize.

“please, jungkook,” your voice is nothing but a whisper, “please fuck me.”

“you should hear yourself, baby, the way you’re desperately begging for me. begging to be fucked,” he chuckles, “you already came once? or was it twice? how greedy can you be.”

“i’m you’re slut, jungkook. please fuck me.”

it was a light switch. something in him flicked and jungkook immediately started snapping his hips into you. “say that again, you little whore. who’s slut are you?”

“jungkook’s. only jungkook’s- fuck!”

he pushed his cock back before slamming into you with both of his hands on your hips. the lewd and slick sound of your pussy and your wetness leaving onto his cock echoes throughout the room and you could’ve sworn jungkook whimpered.

when that wasn’t enough, the sex god behind you takes both of your hands, pulling it behind you, setting yet another brutal pace. he can’t help but wrap his tattooed arms around your small, fragile ones. his eyes lock with yours, your throat protruding a gulp of air you had swallowed.

“you look so pretty, your hands behind you as i’m fucking you, i wish you could see yourself. fuck,” he rumbles.

you moan at his words, because you couldn’t agree more. his hands were perfect; every inch of your body that he would touch, lick, kiss, all belonged to him. you belonged to him and jungkook was going to make sure you were aware of that by the end of the night tonight.

“moan louder,” he says while thrusting into you. “let everyone hear how much of a little slut you are for me.” he emphasizes the last word. his possessiveness was showing, but did either of you care? no.

as you give him exactly what he wants, he smiles while letting his cock fill you up, his hips hitting against yours with aggression. this all causes sparks of pleasure to coarse through your body, your veins felt like they were lit on fire, but not in the bad way. it was in a way only he could make you feel.

as you look at him through the mirror, you can’t help but find him extremely attractive. you watch the way he looks back at you with a cloudiness in his eyes and the way his pink tongue swipe across his bottom lips. jungkook keeps growling your name, thrusting into you with a different urgency every time

“please- jungkook please, i need to cum!” you were begging, not even caring how pathetic you looked and sounded.

“not until i tell you to,” the evil tone in his voice was evident and you didn’t know how longer you could hold in your release.

jungkook noticed the way tears freely fell from your eyes. something took over him, a sense of care. halting his hips, he leaned down and pressed gentle kisses to your neck. “just a little longer, yeah? you’re my good girl, and my good girl can do it. it’ll feel amazing, i promise.” you shuddered, a whole new feeling blossoming inside of you. a radiating warmth coursing throughout your body.

his hands could feel the way your body trembled and quivered underneath him with each thrust. the way he started his merciless pace had you losing yourself to the feeling of lust and desire. your face scrunches up, a feeling of your coil about to snap in your stomach.

jungkook quickly noticed and brings one of his hands which were previously wrapped around your wrists, made their way around your waist and to your clit, toying with the bundle of nerves. it wasn’t long until you were coming undone, with jungkook whispering praises and sweet nothingness into your ear.

a few moments and pumps later, jungkook feels his dick twitch inside of you. pulling out, he cums on you: your ass, your back, and your cunt.

still feeling high from your euphoria, the two of you stay in that position.

completely mesmerized in your afterglow, jungkook looks at you, you doing the same. the eye contact is far more intimate than what the two of you did just now. he never found anyone more beautiful after sex, but you? it was like a whole new perspective.

jungkook pulls his dick out a grabs a tissue from the table near your bed in order to clean you up, followed by a small, tender kiss pressed onto your temple. “you did so well,” he whispers and you feel your knees become weak. it was either due to exhaustion or because of his words.

you hoped it was not the latter.

#jungkook smut #jungkook is a sex god wbk #bts smut #jungkook fuckboy #fuckboy jungkook #smut #kpop #kpop smut

2K notes · View notes

solarwonux · 3 years

Text

10. I still remember the way you taste.

yoongi x f!reader

w.c: 3.8k (YES I GOT CARRIED AWAY SUE ME)

warnings: smut, semi unprotected sex, make up sex, some angst. Briefly edited.

note: lol i think I forgot how to write smut but anyway, hi, um, yes I got carried away lmao. But yeah let me know your thoughts. Send me a drabble prompt hehe. Thank you for reading I hope you enjoy.

drabble game

“I still remember the way you taste.” Yoongi’s knee is wedged in between your thighs as he attacks your neck in desperate open-mouthed kisses. “Yoongi, f-fuck, s-stop.” You say in between pants, placing your hands against his chest in an attempt to create some sort of space between the two of you.

Yoongi smirks against your skin and lifts his head, eyeing you down, pushing his hips further into yours, showing you how much he needed you. “I’ve been holding back from you all weekend. The guys even have a bet going on to see how long I can keep my distance from you.” His hand travels down the side of your body, bunching your silk dress up to your thighs. “Safe to say Jungkook, Hoseok, and Seokjin have lost.”

You roll your eyes. “God, don’t talk about them right now.” You run a finger down his clothed chest, stopping above the first button of his vest. “At least not when you’re about to fuck me in the bathroom of your best friend’s wedding reception” You pop the first button, earning an enticing low groan from your ex-boyfriend.

“Hey!” He exclaims flicking your forehead lightly, “he’s your best friend too.”

“Yoongi, I’m serious I hear their names come out of your lips one more time and I’ll leave you to take care of yourself.” You say as he apologizes with a nod of his head. You unbutton the next two buttons of his vest, stopping before pushing it off his body finally taking in the situation and your surroundings. The bathroom wasn’t dirty, nor was it clean. It had a musty smell making you wonder if someone had already done the deed before the two of you walked in. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.” You quirk a questioning eyebrow.

He shakes his head in disbelief, “I’m not walking through the reception and the hotel lobby with a boner.” He grinds his hips against yours, proving his point. You let out a moan throwing your head back, hitting the wall behind you lightly. He felt so good, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the hand dryer was painfully digging into your back. You would’ve agreed with his statement.

“Just stay behind me, I’ll cover you. Who’s room is closer?” You push him away, finally creating the distance you needed. You turn to face the mirror, fixing your smudged lipstick. Yoongi was shocked, staring at you. God, you were so sexy, the product of his late-night escapades by himself. Especially after the two of you had mutually called it quits.

All throughout the weekend you were driving him crazy, reeling him in to then push him away. He suspects that was your revenge for breaking up with you. One you only agreed to because you knew that once his mind was set on something, there was no way to talk him out of it.

He had almost survived. Almost. That small buzzword was thrown out the window the second you entered the green room where he and all the rest of the groomsmen were waiting in to let them know the ceremony was going to start in five minutes. The long silk lilac dress you were wearing left little to his imagination, one he didn’t have to use much because he had spent years memorizing every single part of your body.

You giggle at his dazed look, sending him a wink through the mirror before turning to face him again, planting a slow sensual kiss against his lips, pulling away before he could respond. “Hurry up or I might change my mind.” You pat his chest and walk past him. “I’ll wait outside.” You say in a sing-song voice and Yoongi was now fully convinced you were messing with him. Exuding your revenge and he had foolishly fallen into your trap.

The walk through the reception was a nightmare.

Yoongi felt like he couldn’t breathe, his hand sweating in between yours. He sent glares into your back and they only got worse every time you stopped to talk about your new start-up business, with someone he barely recognized. He was proud of you for finally leaving your job. He had witnessed many of your angry breakdowns, his heart shattering every time you cried into his chest because of how unhappy you were working for your dream company. That when he finally got word that you had left and started your own company, boldly rivaling your old one. The sigh of relief he let out was monumental. He was proud of you and would’ve told you, praised you, as you happily explained your ideas. That’s if he was thinking with his head and heart not his dick, which was straining painfully against the waistband of his slacks. If it wasn’t for his suit jacket doing most of the work in hiding it he would’ve died out of pure agony and embarrassment.

“We finally found an office and we’re moving in when Jimin gets back from his honeymoon. Sadly, he says I’m not allowed to start decorating without him, scared I’ll put an outside fountain in the middle of the whole place.” You say, prompting a booming laugh from Jimin’s dad.

Jimin’s mom shakes her head, “he gets his perfectionism from my side of the family, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, honestly, I don’t have an ounce of interior design in my body, so I’d rather he be there to supervise before he yells at me saying that I’ve ruined everything.”

Yoongi could feel the sweat start to pool above his brow, tuning you and Jimin’s parents out. He had never felt this needy in his entire life. He supposes it's the adrenaline rush of seeing you in such a revealing dress or the fact that he missed you. The last year and a half without you had been awful. Everything reminded him of you and he had to fight the urge to just call you. He never did. Afraid you had found it in yourself to finally hate him for breaking your heart.

“Yoongi, sweetheart, are you okay?” Jimin’s mom asked, placing the back of her hand against his forehead, making him flinch. “Oh dear, you’re burning up, maybe you should go lay down.” The worry in her voice was evident, melting his heart. Jimin’s parents always treated him like he was one of their own, welcoming him with open arms when Jimin had first invited him and the guys over for lunch after school almost ten years ago. When Yoongi’s parents had kicked him out for choosing to study music production instead of something ‘meaningful’ they had taken him and even offered to pay for his school expenses. He owed them a lot, and if circumstances were different he would’ve thanked them profusely, just like he always did.

“I think he has a fever so I’m going to walk him back to his room.” You nod your head, letting go of his hand and looping your arm with his. “It must’ve been the shrimp appetizer, he’s never been good with seafood, right baby?” The evil glint in your eye was too much. You’re teasing was getting too much for him to handle. He’s never seen this side of you. It excited him.

“Right!”

“Oh please, hurry, we’ll let Jimin know you had to leave early I’m sure he’ll understand.” Jimin’s mom said, pushing the two of you towards the exit.

Once the two of you were away, closer to the double doors of the reception hall you leaned in, “How are you holding up?”

“Get me out of here before I drag you to the nearest bathroom again.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” You hold your hand out before Yoongi can step any closer to your body. A sound of annoyance erupting from his chest. Once upon a time, Yoongi had prided himself in being patient. Tonight was not one of those times.

The second the two of you were alone in the elevator, his hands and mouth were all over you. Painting beautiful flowers with his mouth against your skin. The noises he had elicited from you made his chest swell with pride and his cock throb painfully against his pants. Every ounce of self control he once harbored was long gone. He didn’t want to miss another second where he wasn’t touching you.

Yoongi had almost lost his mind while you were fumbling to get the door to your hotel room open. Though, that was mainly his fault, he literally couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

Yet, now that you were finally in the safety of your hotel room, Yoongi didn’t understand why you were still resisting him and it made him even more frustrated both sexually and emotionally. “What, what do I have to wait for now, I’m so close to coming in my pants please just let me fuck you.” He all but begged, even considered getting down on his knees and kissing the ground you walked on. Though, when he saw you smirk, he knew he had done exactly what you had hoped he would do.

“Fuck you.” He closed the distance, sighing when you innocently took a step back.

“I’m trying to but I need to take my shoes off.” You pouted, pointing to your heel cladded feet in front of you, arms behind your back as you swayed from side to side. Yoongi shook his head before taking you into your arms and walking you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed. You fell back sitting down as Yoongi got down on his knees in front of you.

“Are you punishing me?” He asked with a pout on his lips.

You giggled placing both of your hands against his cheeks and squishing them. “Yes.” You affirmed kissing his lips, “I think you deserve it for leaving me.” You gave his cheeks a light tap. “Now get to work or I’ll kick you out.”

Yoongi scoffed, placing your left foot on top of his knees. His fingers unbuckling the buckle around your ankle slowly, his eyes burning holes into your soul. You swallowed nervously as he slipped it off, his lips connecting with the skin of your ankle, kissing the tiny stick n poke tattoo he had given you after a particularly stressful week of finals, almost three years ago.

It was crooked. The points of the star weren’t as perfect as he would’ve liked them to be. But it had been entirely your fault. You kept moving, yelping out in dramatized agony every time he poked the needle into your skin, tears welling up in the corner of your eyes. He knew you were just doing it to scare him. Your pain tolerance was higher than any normal human being, which is why he continued his masterpiece, ignoring your pleas to stop. Nevertheless, with a childish pout you had expressed your love for it in more ways than one and vowed to never cover it up no matter what.

You had kept true to your word.

“I didn’t mean to.” He sighed, kissing your inner thigh, then moving to the other one. He had long removed your other heel and was now showering you with all the kisses he hadn’t been able to give you in the last year and a half. “I didn’t want to break up with you.”

His hands traveled up the side of your legs, pushing your dress up further until the white lace of your panties were visible to his soft eyes. He bit his lip, taking in how much of an effect he still had on you. In all honesty, it made him feel on top of the world that your body was still so responsive to his touch.

“Why did you?” Your voice wavered and you blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Though, you had agreed with his decision to break things off. It had hurt more than you had intended it to hurt. You were left dazed and confused wondering how he could just wake up one day and decide that you weren’t enough for him anymore.

“You stopped chasing your dreams because of me.” The guilt he had felt every time he held you while you cried out in anger spilled out. The tears now fell down your eyes while he laid you down, taking your dress with him, bringing it over your head and throwing it to the side knocking over the glass of water you kept on your nightstand every night.

You jumped hitting his chest, “That dress was expensive.” You sniffed and wrapped your arms around his neck, “you’re the biggest idiot I know, I hate you.” You said, burying your head into his chest, mascara staining his pristine white dress shirt, while you unbuttoned it.

He knew you weren’t crying because of the dress, but this was also not what he meant when he wanted to have you crying tonight. You were right, he was an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, grabbing your head making you look at him. His own eyes were now filled with tears as he wiped away your own. “I didn’t know what else to do. You weren’t happy.” He kissed your cheek then moved down to your neck, tonguing the spot underneath your ear that he knew would have you weak in your knees. “I-I wasn’t happy.” He confessed against your skin.

He had never once said it out loud and now that he had, while you pushed his shirt off his shoulders, undressing him further, he felt childish. “You could’ve just talked to me about it.” You sighed moving your hands down his chest, your manicured nails scraping his skin lightly. He shuddered, the coldness of your touch was something he had never been able to get used to. He had missed it.

“I know.” He licked down your neck, his fingers playing with your bottom lip, taping it lightly. “I didn’t know how to approach the situation.” His eyes all but rolled back as you took his fingers into your mouth, moaning around his digits. Your mouth was so hot and wet. He wanted to be inside of it, fucking it until you were sputtering and crying tears of pleasure, his precum mixing with your saliva. But he decided he could wait to fulfill his fantasy, right now he needed to show you much he still loved and cared about you.

Yoongi took his fingers out of your mouth, trailing his moist digits down your neck, painting a masterpiece until they wrapped around your nipples, pinching it, while his mouth kissed around your other nipple. The low sighs of pleasure you were making were astronomical. A beautiful melody he will never get tired of listening to.

“S-So you decided to break up with me, f-fuck.” You gasped when he lightly bit down on your nipple. It was euphoric, enough to have you reaching your orgasm. You were overly sensitive, overwhelmed with the fact that he was so close to you again.

“I thought we already agreed that I’m an idiot.” He joked and sat back on his knees, pushing your thighs apart with his hands. The only thing keeping you covered were your panties that were sticking onto you like a second skin and it was driving him insane.

“Let me keep reminding you then.” You smirked and sat up on your elbows, lifting your hips from the bed to meet his. “Break my heart again and I’ll cut off your dick, and this time I sincerely mean it my love.” He shuddered, your menacing words filled with possibilities and hope. Hope that after tonight you and him could start over again.

“Have I ever told you how much you actually scare me?” He tilted his head with curiosity, pushing your panties to the side. His mouth watering when he felt how truly wet you were for him. He wanted you in every single way possible. To drink you up like sweet honey dew juice. If he wasn’t so impatient he would’ve buried his face in between your legs, until you were cumming on his tongue.

“Once or twice.” You lifted your hips as he slid your panties down your legs. He threw them to the side giving your hip a light kiss. “Maybe more than three times.” You gasped as he pushed two of his fingers inside of you.

His eyes catching sight the other miniscule stick n poke tattoo he had given you after graduation. This time it was a beautiful cursive ‘y’ adorning the skin of your mound, the adrenaline along with the alcohol that was running through both of your veins that night, had numbed you out enough to have you lying still, giggling at his concentration instead of screaming out in pain.

He moved his fingers, his cock aching to be freed from it’s constraints. He was so painfully hard, aching to be buried inside of you. “I think I told you more than that.” He curled his fingers, hitting the mushy spot inside of you making you gasp.

“Yoongi, whatever, just please get inside of me before I kick you out.” You arched your back, lifting your hips as his fingers slowly teased you, opening you up for him. You hadn’t been fucked in such a long time. In fact, the last person you had sex with you was the one teasing you right now.

He huffed rolling his eyes and took out his fingers. “Stop threatening me like that.” He said, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, painting your lips with your arousal. “It hurts my feelings.”

“Then hurry up.” Your fingers reached over playing with the button of his pants, popping it open as you eyed him through lust filled hooded eyes, “We can play more another day, right now I need you inside of me before I die.” You pleaded. His eyes got wide, his mind ran faster than usual, making sure he had heard you right.

Another time, you had said. He had heard you right. His hearing wasn’t as bad as he claims it to be, especially when it came to you and anything that leaves your mouth. He nodded and helped you push his pants along with his boxers down his legs. He kicked them away. A low moan escaped his lips when he felt your delicate hand wrap around his hard cock. Your thumb running over his red tip, spreading around the precum.

“Do you have a condom?” He asked in a choked whisper as he tried his hardest not to cum in your hand.

You shook your head no, a pout forming on your lips, “I don’t, I thought you would have one.” You kissed his chest lightly as you kept moving your hand around him. “I’m still on the pill though.” You pulled away and looked up at him giving him a knowing wink.

He swallowed and pushed you softly, laying you down. “Honestly, I didn’t think this would ever happen again so I didn’t bring anything.”

Your hand around him fell to your side as he climbed over you slowly. “Tell me if it hurts okay, I’ll stop.” He reassured before aligning himself up at your entrance. He ran the tip of his cock over your pussy gathering your essence before pushing himself in.

“Y-Yoongi, oh my g-god, f-fuck.” You arched your back, digging your nails into the skin of his shoulders. You felt so deliciously good around him, your name falling out of his lips like a silent prayer.

He buried his face into your neck, planting open mouthed down your neck, biting down lightly when he felt you clench around him. “Can I keep going?” He mumbled. “I need to feel all of you.”

“Yes, please Yoongi please.” You gasped when you felt him bottoming out inside of you. The pleasure was mind numbing. Your pussy stretching over his cock after such a long time was otherworldly.

His hands found yours and he intertwined your fingers with his, placing your arms above your head as he started thrusting into you slowly. His eyes burning into yours, refusing to let your gaze go.

Nothing was heard, except for skin slapping against skin. His low grunts combining with your loud moans as he fucked into you faster. The sound of your wet pussy motivating him to continue his ministries. Neither of you were sure how much time had passed, the only thing that mattered was the desperate chase of your highs.

“Make me cum please.” You pleaded over and over again, as he pistoned his hips into you faster and harder. The knot forming against the pit of your stomach. You kept clenching around him and he knew you were close to the edge. He was too, he could feel the tightness of his balls as his thrusts became sloppy.

“B-Baby, I’m close.” He bit down on your neck as you arched your back, your nipples brushing against his lightly.

You dug your nails into his knuckles, raising your hips to meet his desperate thrusts. “Me too, I’m so close.” You gasped as he rolled his hips into yours. The change of rhythm had you screaming out in pleasure.

He let go of one of your hands, not wasting a second in finding your swollen clit, rubbing fast circles against it with his thumb, “Gonna cum around me my angel, gonna let me paint your walls white.” He panted, his sweaty bangs falling over his eyes. He looked like a greek God, Adonis himself.

“F-Fuck yes Yoongi, fuck I-I’m coming.” You choked out, the pressure at the pit of your stomach finally breaking. Your pussy fluttering around him, your orgasm taking over your body in pleasure filled spasms.

Yoongi pushes into you harder, his thumb working against your clit as you ride out your high beneath him. Seeing you so fucked out was enough to tether over the edge, in a silent moan, his own orgasm taking over his body, painting your walls with his sticky substance, filling you up to the brink. “G-God, I love you.” He said after he had somewhat composed himself.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into your body. You didn’t want him to move yet, “I love you too Yoongi.” You whispered leaving innocent pecks against his jawline. He chuckled laying his head against your chest. You brushed his hair away from his face. Both of your chests heaving at the same time, as you tried to catch your breaths.

“Was that okay?” He spoke after a long moment of silence. He rested his chin against your chest looking at you through worrisome eyes. “You don’t hate me anymore right?”

“I never did.” You smiled, making his heart sore, “It was perfect, I missed you...a lot” You added kissing his nose.

“I missed you too, maybe a little too much if I’m being honest. I really am sorry angel.” He cuddled into you further, feeling himself grow soft inside of you. You felt his arousal along with yours slide down your legs and you had to hold back from begging him to take you again and again.

“I know just don’t do it again.”

“I’d be actually crazy if I did.”

#kdiarynet #kpopscape #bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts yoongi #bts x reader #bts drabbles #bts scenarios #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi drabbles #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #yoongi imagines #yoongi scenarios

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tracer85s · 4 years

Text

yizhan fic rec (2)

part 1

glute bridges by sunstainedsheets

[explicit, 29k, complete]

personal trainer and dancer yibo and graphic designer xiao zhan. GYM AU omg i love this. xiao zhan signs up for a gym membership and personal training sessions where he’s totally not ogling his coach. there’s also a scene with xiao zhan attempting to converse with yibo in korean that got me cackling lmao, our resident koreaboo indeed. it was also great to see mentor yibo here, it reminded me of his prod 101 days when he was so intimidating as a mentor, also... very sexy. anyway i adore this, they’re just thirsting over each other, especially yibo checking out the zhass, it’s okay bobo we’ve all been there

i’d wear gucci for you by Anonymous

[teen and up, 16k, complete]

abo au where alpha yibo and omega xiao zhan are photographed going into xiao zhan’s apartment together so they’re forced to pretend that they’re mated to prevent a scandal. this has become my favourite fics because i’m an absolute sucker for fake/pretend relationships and the way the writer incorporated canon stuff like yibo answering interview questions for xiao zhan ugh guys i love this fic. when yibo was so exasperated near the end and said “i’m wearing gucci for you” & waving his hand i really lost it. JUST READ THIS I PROMISE IT’S A GOOD READ

if you would only let you by gdgdbaby

[explicit, 32k, complete]

ah where do i even start with this one? xiao zhan gets drunk and texts yibo, yibo shows up at his house and whisks him away on a road trip. i felt so much emotions reading this fic, everything was so raw and it really deals with the pressures of being famous and homophobia. this is a super realistic fic and there’s a lot of emotional hurt/comfort, you’ll literally end up wanting to wrap these two in a big blanket and just protect them from the world (lol like we don’t already want to do that). my absolute favourite part was the confession scene, like it was so messy and funny, and it’s just so them, especially the pokemon part lmao. this art is based on that scene and it’s exactly how i imagined it 🥺 this is just so well written and it’s one of my favs!

love in the time of coding by theivoryflute

[explicit, 26k, complete]

hacker yibo and cyber security engineer xiao zhan. yibo cyber flirts with xiao zhan and also flirts with him in real life. *SCREAMS* i never thought we’d have a hacker au in the fandom but i’ve been blessed, this was literally the cutest online romance fic with a bunch of mutual pining. my favourite dialogue is “the whiplash from wanting to ride yibo to wanting to coddle him was severe” i’m literally wheezing, this is a perfect representation of the fandom, also the usernames that yibo picked got me cackling there’s one in particular that made me laugh, you’ll know what it is when you see it so go read this gem!

Peace & Love by ella_minnow

[explicit, 51k, complete]

my favourite writer is back again with this baby! idol dance captain xiao zhan and non-famous dancer yibo!!! ARE WE KIDDING? slow burn sdoc au? I’M SO IN WTF. guys listen to me. yibo has a low ponytail and arm tattoos *goes feral* one of my favourite scenes from this fic is when xiao zhan had to convince yibo to join his team (bro. he didn’t even have to try) because yibo says “no, Xiao-laoshi. I would of course never leave you.” i’m screeching, totally gave me tgcf hua cheng vibes. my absolute favourite scene, however, is when yibo says xiao zhan doesn’t have to worry about sending him home because he’s going to win everything... like... the sheer bde this man exudes in real life and fiction... very sexy of him. i also love how this showcases how well they work together and of course the *whispers* celebratory sex!

Hyacinth by stickyriceu

[explicit, 76k, complete]

racer yibo celebrates after a competition and meets hyacinth’s number one host, zhan-er. slow burn with LOTS of pining and angst. i finished this in one sitting and i’m still screaming over it, it’s so good!!! genuinely felt my soul leave my body reading this because zhan zhan with shoulder length hair? tied up in a messy bun? *SCREECHES* everyone go read and get your angst on, don’t worry, there’s a happy ending ;)

Song of the Sea by LaMachina17

[explicit, 48k, complete]

mermaid xiao zhan and pirate yibo !!! xiao zhan meets yibo and has one very exciting night with him so he ends up following him aboard their pirate ship! i’m literally on my knees praising this fic. i will re-read this until i die, it’s perfect. AND THEY’RE CAT DADS IN THIS FIC TOO. seriously i don’t need to say anything else go read this gem

The Dragons by MadFilaments

[explicit, 31k, complete]

xiao zhan is his village’s marriage offering to dragon lord yibo. are you kidding me? shapeshifter yibo? arranged marriage fic? YES. this is one of my favourites, i always re-read it because the way their relationship just naturally progresses in the story warms my heart 😩 AND they call each other husband and i just *melts* they’re ! so ! domestic ! there’s angst but it’s not too bad and i’m in love with yibo’s speech about how dragons love forever *cries*

golden hour by Deinde

[explicit, 35k, complete]

professional snowboarder yibo teaches actor xiao zhan how to snowboard in a show! OH MY GOD THIS WAS SO GOOD *SCREAMS* it’s literally just them flirting and being absolutely thirsty for each other, especially in the photoshoot scene dear lord. i’m so annoying, this fic tab has been open in my safari for forever and i forgot about it until i watched ddu’s snow sports episode so don’t do the same thing as me and go! read! this! fic! immediately!

Falling In Love by beeswaxing

[mature, 65k, complete]

celebrities yibo and xiao zhan star in a we got married/hello baby inspired reality show! oh my god. the domestic fluff in this i am reeling, THIS IS JUST ADORABLE. this is definitely the domestic kid fic i so desperately needed 😭 and the way the writer added in those canon bjyx details is just perfect, everyone go read this please!!

Legend of the Jade Rabbit: The Musical by emma_screams

[explicit, 12k, complete]

high school au with lion hybrid yibo and bunny hybrid xiao zhan. this fic has musicals! it’s really quite fluffy, yibo literally calls zhan zhan “bunny gege” and i’m just *SCREECHING* also i love protective yibo 😭 i really love this it’s so cute & has a very refreshing plot!

pick me, pick me up by domeeneec

[mature, 10k, complete]

college/uni wrong number au where xiao zhan keeps accidentally calling yibo to bail him out of his bad dates and yibo ends up becoming his “personal dating assistant” this was the FLUFFIEST. although there is some light angst when xiao zhan drunk dials yibo and cries about not being able to find love, but i swear this is super soft and fluffy!!! READ THIS FOR SEROTONIN

Ruby and Gold by aces_low

[explicit, 16k, complete]

mob boss xiao zhan and his trophy husband yibo. HELLO? MURD3R HUSBANDS YIZHAN? this was such a fun read! trigger warnings for blood and violence though so look out for those! yizhan will literally not hesitate to beat you tf up in this fic they’re so badass here but they’re so soft with each other. xiao zhan literally calls yibo gǒu zǎizǎi and tiánxīn i am. Melting. also there’s a proposal. it’s unromantic but still so romantic, i love it. i also saw this art and i think this would be how they look in the fic

To Be Human by purplemonster

[teen and up, 19k, complete]

humanoid yibo and ceo xiao zhan. xiao zhan tests out his company’s newest creation and falls in love along the way. android aus always hurt me so. good. and this one’s not an exception. it’s pretty slow burn and definitely angst-y but it has a happy ending! i love the domesticity, i have no idea why i love grocery scenes so much? but anyway this is perfect for a rainy day and you’ll coo at the ending

Falling by brooklinegirl

[explicit, 42k, complete]

yb and xz behind the scenes while filming. this was such a melancholic read for me (even though there’s so much papapa) because they pine SO HARD at the start, don’t get me wrong though, it’s also cute because there’s so much canon flirting!but my heart really broke when filming was ending and yb’s thoughts were “We could run away together. Miss our flights. Stay here in Hengdian, or fuck it, go somewhere where no one knows us and just...” *sobs* pls go read!!!

What’s Your Emergency? by bluefloral

[general, 2k, complete]

police officer yibo and single father xiao zhan! yuan, xiao zhan’s son calls 911 for help with his math homework and officer yibo helps him 🥺 this was such an adorable short read!

#bjyx #yizhan #bjyxszd #yizhan fic rec #fic rec

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phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

“I’m in love,” Piper tells her when she shows up for another fitting. “Have you seen the new Beyonce video?”

“I heard the song.” Annabeth says, “isn’t that enough?”

“God, your whole play-acting thing is too far if you’re pretending to not like Beyonce.”

“I never said that.” Annabeth holds up her hands, “I like the song. But I did not see the video.”

“Well, when you see it, you’ll be in love too, but I will fight you.”

Piper could be scrappy in a fight. But Annabeth had been a champion fencer in high school.

“Kidding!” Piper says at her look. “There’s plenty of them to go around.” She didn’t even start to drape fabric over Annabeth, pushing her onto a muslin covered couch, and then pulling the video on the TV. She didn’t have one of those voice control devices. Because she was friends with Leo, and he was pretty firm on them being evil. “But I do call dibs on the main guy. The CALVES. The thighs. He’s unreal.”

“That good?” Piper went all ways, though as of late she gravitated towards women more often than not, so this was some high praise indeed.

“Unreal, I am telling you. Like, the hand of God came down and sculpted him personally out of marble.”

Already in her recent watch history, the thumbnail of the video greets them, the song title splashed across the TV screen, weaving between a very, very familiar set of legs.

Like, intimately familiar.

In something of detached horror, she watches the camera pan up, lovingly lingering on every inch of bare skin, following the muscles of his calves (which were unreal) to his knees then his thighs (which Annabeth had spent almost too much time between now), up his torso and his chest (which she knew made for an excellent pillow) to Percy’s face, set in a firm, hard stare.

And that fucking blue lipstick again.

She can’t even focus on Beyonce herself, too distracted by the way her hand traces the length of Percy’s outstretched thigh held in perfect arabesque as she gracefully drapes herself over him, crooning softly into his ear.

Annabeth should do that next time. That’s her spot, after all.

Tearing her eyes away from the screen even as Piper watches, enraptured, she slips out her phone, sending a quick, furious text.

annabeth: BEYONCE???????

A minute, then he responds.

percy: oh lol i didn’t realize that came out today 😁

percy: what’d you think?

annabeth: i think im going to kill you later

“Just look at him,” Piper says, pausing on Percy’s form, his arms outstretched, fingers placed delicately around a bar. “I mean--look at him!”

“Yeah,” she chuckles, maybe a little uneasy. “He’s alright I guess.”

Incredulous, Piper swivels her head. “Alright? Alright? Do you need your eyes checked?”

She just shrugs.

Why is she being so weird about this? It’s just Piper. She’s trained to find symmetry and beauty in bodies. They’ve happily shared crushes and fixations plenty of times before, so why is Annabeth being so weird about Percy? It’s not like they’re… you know… dating or anything. Just hooking up a bit.

Piper squints at her, then shrugs herself. “Fine. I don’t have time to get an answer out of you anyway. Come on.”

“Speaking of time,” Annabeth says, following Piper back into the kitchen studio, “I have to head out by 6:30.”

“Oh yeah?” Piper’s head is buried in her belt box, searching for the perfect accent. “What for?”

“I’ve got a show to catch.”

“Kind of early,” she says, pulling out something thin and silver. “Don’t you usually meet Thalia at the ass crack of midnight?”

“Well I kind of want to eat first.”

“Okay.” She cinches the belt around her waist, tight. “Then you’re going to have to help me with this skirt.”

***

Hands aching from hours of macrame, Annabeth walks up to the box office window at the Koch Theater at 7:46, having a handful of second thoughts.

Old, uppity white couples keep shooting her some particularly intense passive aggressive glares, some of them even venturing into actually aggressive territory, which usually wouldn’t even register on her very short list of things to care about, except that she is feeling woefully out of place. The lady in front of her has ten pounds of diamonds hanging off of each old, wrinkly ear, and the best Annabeth could do was fish out her least-ripped pair of jeans, pairing it with one of her nicer black shirts, the sleeves long enough to cover most of her tattoos. The macrame kept her longer than she had meant, so she didn’t have time to change before dinner, but fuck it, right?

She did also take out most of her face jewelry on the way. But she left the nose stud, obviously. And the tongue piercing. And the industrial, because Percy really likes those, so she doesn’t feel that bad about it. And he hadn’t even told her about this until after she had already given herself the half-undercut, so it’s not like she could do anything about that either.

“Can I help you?” At least this box office worker isn’t giving her the stink-eye.

“I’m here to pick up a ticket? Should be under ‘Jackson.’” He’d offered to leave it under her name, but this was safer. She doesn’t think her mom is a big ballet person, but she isn’t about to risk it, either.

She slides the ticket towards Annabeth beneath the glass plane. “Enjoy the show,” she says, with a quirk of her mouth that is surprisingly sincere for someone in customer service.

She’s pretty sure she’d enjoy the show more if she weren’t panicking thinking about getting dirt on their fancy carpets. Her boots are clean, of course, and she doesn’t really care, but she doesn’t want to, like, embarrass Percy or whatever. She’d asked him if she should dress up, but he’d assured her otherwise. “No one’s going to care, I promise,” he’d told her the night before, her lounging in his bed while he did some pushups. “And if anyone says something, let me know and we can kick their ass after the show together.”

“Great. Guess I don’t have to break out the Chanel, then.”

He’d paused, frowned, then huffed a laugh, shaking his head. Like the idea of Annabeth wearing Chanel was hilarious. Like what she’s wearing tonight really is the best that she can do.

Self-consciousness isn’t really a feeling that Annabeth has anymore. She’s spent so many years chafing against expectations, shucking them off when she inevitably failed to meet them, desperate for a place, a crowd where she could just be. In her scene, she doesn’t have anything to prove to anyone, and when Percy is out with her, he doesn’t need any convincing. He likes her. He likes her a lot, she thinks. He likes her enough to let himself be dragged out to every shitty dive bar and shittier rock show in New York City, laughing and cheering and holding her close the whole time. He likes her enough to cart her to his apartment at 4 AM, inevitably waking Nico up from his undead slumber, and leave her with nothing but a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead. And she likes him, too--a lot. Annabeth likes Percy enough to ditch her band t-shirts for a night and track mud on the carpet of the Koch Theater and willingly sit through a performance of fucking Swan goddamn Lake of all things, and it’s only a little scary how much she is willing to do for him after only a few months of fucking him. Because this really isn’t her scene, not anymore.

The weight of everyone’s stares bears down on her, threatening to crush her beneath them, a feeling she was so sure she’d left behind.

At least Percy had been thoughtful enough to get her a ticket out of the way in the back of one of the balcony sections. It’s a bit of a hike, but the audience members aren’t dressed quite as nicely as the ones downstairs, and she feels like she can breathe a little easier.

She pulls out her phone, checking her text messages on instinct. There’s a selfie from Percy in his stage makeup (and she’s not going to lie… he looks fucking pretty), with his standard accompanying three blue heart emojis. She can’t help it, her heart skips a beat and she can’t help but smile, even as she rolls her eyes. She’s just about to send him something appropriately sarcastic when another text notification slides in. It’s from her father.

Hi Annabeth… I was talking to a friend in Boston who said he's looking for a new

prospective in his architecture firm. Passed your information along.

Love you, dear

She swipes it away. Deletes the whole text conversation, for good measure.

Forget about him. This night is about Percy.

A few minutes later, so engrossed in Percy’s program bio (it’s about all she can focus on right now), she doesn’t even notice everyone around her leaning forward in breathless anticipation, until the warm, honey-like sound of the oboe draws her head up.

Roughly two minutes in, she’s really wishing she had attempted the synopsis. The extent of her knowledge of Swan Lake is a few half-remembered orchestra rehearsals in her teens and reading the Wikipedia article on that Natalie Portman movie a few months ago, and she definitely doesn’t recall there being anything about any Men-in-Tights looking motherfuckers prancing around. They’re sort of bobbing, back and forth, elegantly stepping from one side of the stage to another. Even from back here, she can see the delicate, precise placement of their hands, fingers curved just so, moving through space as though they aren’t bound by the laws of physics.

The fingers, she remembers. She could never get the hang of the fingers. Her old ballet teacher had given up on them after a week, and that had been the beginning of the end for that particular extracurricular.

Now her fingers tap on her jeans, impatient, far faster than the easy going music on stage. She’s just about to give in to the millennial instinct and pull out her phone, maybe play a round of sudoku, when the dancers motion as one to the back corner, and Percy comes stepping out. His hair is perfectly slicked back, gelled down, any hint of curl beaten into submission, and his smile is small, but white, gleaming against the tanned brown of his skin. She can’t help but smile back, like he could somehow see her. Finally, she thinks, relaxing a little more into her seat. Something to watch.

On his off days, her off days, any day when she would spent the night at his (always at his, never at hers) and wake up wrapped in his comforter and the smell of seawater, she would take the blanket with her and steal into his living room, curl up on his couch with her feet tucked under her legs, and watch him dance. She’s seen him drill these sequences over, and over, and over again, counting furious sequences of sixes and eights beneath his breath in duet with the thuds of his feet on his floor. Most times he would notice her and shoot her a grin, granting her permission to observe the artist at work. Sometimes, though, he would be so caught up in his body, the shifting of his feet and the music in his head, that it was like he couldn’t see her at all. Seemingly alone, he would dance, uninhibited, and she would be struck by a feeling that she usually reserves for specific monuments. Watching Percy dance in his apartment, in his brown tights and black tank top, lost in his own world, is like looking at pictures of the Gateway Arch, or the Hoover Dam, or the Parthenon.

She searches for that feeling now, leaning forward in her seat, eyes hungrily raving his form, but she just doesn’t see it. It’s… honestly, it’s a little boring. She won’t lie. He had warned her it would be something of a slow start, but this isn’t exactly an ADHD friendly medium, and she is losing her patience, just a bit. He’s so reserved, like he’s holding something close to his chest, impersonal as he takes the hands of the female dancers and lets them twirl around him.

Personally, Annabeth thinks that he looks kind of lost. Maybe he’s just nervous--it’s a big role and he’s a young guy. But he had seemed fine when he’d kissed her goodbye just after lunch.

The court jester is killing it though. Feeling just the slightest bit guilty, she lets her eyes drift over to him, deciding to watch him for a while instead.

On some level, she does appreciate the skill on display here. Percy can raise his back leg in a perfect ninety degree angle that would make her architecture professors sweat. The girls drift back and forth across the stage on the tips of their toes, weightless and ethereal. It’s mesmerizing, and she lets herself be mesmerized.

Time must slip away from her, because she blinks and all of a sudden the stage has gone from sunny yellow to cool blue, the crowds of dancers having vanished. He is alone on stage. Percy kneels in a deep lunge that makes her thighs ache just looking at him (and for… other reasons), his arms and his attention pointed to the wings, with a… Annabeth squints. When the hell did he get a crossbow?

But everything is swept to the sides when the White Swan tiptoes her way on stage, impossibly graceful, and all of a sudden, Annabeth gets it.

It feels a little cliche to say, but the way that woman moves on the floor really does remind her of those old, vintage jewelry boxes, suspended in animation, moved by some otherworldly force. It’s amazing. It’s a little terrifying. Sublime is the word that comes to mind as Annabeth watches her. Her arms move with fluidity, perfect curves, her fingers trailing behind her like wings.

And Percy is just as mesmerized as Annabeth is. As the audience is.

A few things hit her, in rapid succession. First, that Percy is, actually, a really good actor. His reticence before--he’d been playing a character. He’d been playing aloof and reserved and unmoored, because Percy--Siegfried--whatever--has been waiting his whole life for something to fulfill him, until this singular moment, the moment he laid eyes on this beautiful creature. Second, that she doesn’t need words to understand what’s going on. It’s all there, in every look and gesture and step, as the two characters circle each other, slowly but irrevocably falling in love. And third, that she recognizes the look on his face. It’s the look that Percy gives her when she has been talking for too long and he can’t get a word in edgewise, or when she screams along to the god awful underground bands, three beers in and missing every single fuck she’d ever had, or when she wakes up after him to Percy’s arms around her waist, her hair in his mouth and her head resting against his collarbone. She recognizes it, because that’s the look that Siegfried has for Odette. Because that’s the look that Percy has for Annabeth. Because he loves her.

And fourth, that that doesn’t make her as happy as she wishes it would.

There’s a cold pit in her stomach for the rest of the show, a turning screw that twists in deeper, minute by minute, with every turn of the dancers. She wastes the next hour trying to puzzle this out, not even pretending to watch the drama unfolding on stage, because it makes no goddamn sense. (Her situation, not the ballet--she managed to skim the synopsis during intermission, her foot tapping incessantly against the blessedly empty seat in front of her.) Things are great between them. It’s been a heady, intoxicating four months, full of bubbles and butterflies, sweet, soft mornings, and some really, really phenomenal sex. This should make her happy. This should put her over the fucking moon, and she cannot, for the life of her, figure out why it doesn’t.

The prima ballerina comes back out as the Black Swan, just as poised and precise as her counterpart, but she’s a great actress as well, because there is something undeniably different about her. Her arms move like rubber, like joints are just an afterthought, wrapping themselves around Percy’s neck and shoulders. She misdirects his attention, drawing his eyes to her wrists, her clavicle, the curve of a leg or the point of her toe. Seducing him. Tricking him.

Like Annabeth.

Because try as she might to run from it, Annabeth isn’t who she says she is. She wants so desperately to be this fuck-the-rules, fight-the-power, punk rock princess that she took every part of her that didn’t fit that image and tried to rip it out of her, bloody and struggling. Her trust fund, her two (two!) Harvard degrees, her enriched childhood and her bright and shining future; she took it all out back and shot it, and prayed that would be the end of it. She’s a phony, just like that goddamn Black Swan. Percy is in love with a phony.

Her sweet, wonderful, devastatingly kind and handsome Percy--she tricked him and made him fall in love with a mishmash of archetypes and aesthetics, distracting him with nose piercings and ripped t-shirts and ugly, deafening noise.

She’s not surprised that she’s crying when the curtain falls. She’d never known that Siegfried and Odette both died at the end.

When the cast reunites for curtain call, Percy is given a standing ovation, and Annabeth enthusiastically joins in, wiping the tears from her eyes, smearing her makeup.

She doesn’t wait for him at the stage door, but sits on the steps of the theater, plucking at her sleeves, aching for a drink and wishing she had had the presence of mind to wear something a little nicer. Percy finds her there almost an hour after the show ended. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

In the dark of night, illuminated only by streetlamps, she can’t read his face--but she can read exhaustion, in every part of his body. “I was waiting for you by the stage door.”

Something in her stomach goes cold. “I… wasn’t sure if I was allowed,” she offers, weakly.

He smiles, a light in the dark. “Of course you’re allowed,” he says, offering her a hand. “Shall we?”

She knows what will happen next. She’ll take his hand, and they’ll walk to the subway together, fingers intertwined. They’ll get on the 1 train headed north, and Percy will let her rest her head against him, tilting his head back against the window, eyes closed, almost asleep. The doorman will nod at them as they walk up to Nico’s apartment, barely batting an eye at his sweats and her ripped jeans, the two of them sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of impeccably dressed rich New Yorkers. Nico will wave at them distractedly from his office, gulping down his sixth coffee of the night, and they’ll tiptoe into his room, falling asleep in each other’s arms with little more than a good night kiss.

Which, of course, is exactly what does end up happening.

Almost.

Annabeth crawls on top of him in his bed, kissing him soft and senseless. She doesn’t know where he’s getting this energy from, but she is not complaining as he slips up inside of her, the two of them rocking each other gently to orgasm, their foreheads pressed together. Shuddering as he comes, he captures her mouth in another kiss, pouring every ounce of love he has in him into her.

A waste, honestly.

But as far as goodbye sex, it’s pretty damn great.

She needs to end this, before either of them get hurt. It’s the least of what he deserves, after all. To put yourself out there, to offer yourself up like that, that might be the bravest thing Annabeth’s ever heard of, and surely, Annabeth can find the courage to do what needs to be done.

#whomp whomp!!#ballet au #pjo fic #my fic #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #perseannabeth

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peakascum · 4 years

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The Room Where It Happens

Request for: @slither-in-a-half I know this is a bit different than what you asked for and it’s way different than what I originally intended to write, but I really do hope you enjoy it!

Two politicians stand on opposites sides of each other for a Charity event, something to do with children or painting the Parliment’s ceiling. Thomas Shelby sips a chilled Merlot as he eyes the posh MP’s that mingle alongside him, noses turned up and head in their ass. In front of him lurks another MP, a much snobbier one at that, whom galavants his wife like a bloody medal. You don’t mind, at least not publicly. Always playing the trophy wife, always sporting a smile, always curtsying a ‘What a lovely evening’. Thomas knows he’s playing a dangerous game as he eyes your cherry red lips gulp down yet another glass. It’s the urgency in which you consume the devil’s drink that always catches his attention. He knows how soft your hands are and how delicately you maneuver them from the countless times you've touched his.

The condition of being stuck in a loveless marriage would drive anyone mad. Add a little bit of brute force and a make-believe smile, and that would be enough to send cries for help. Which you had done so on several occasions, but no one took them seriously; instead, they deemed you as a bored housewife. You had heard the tales, everyone had, of the countless wives of esteemed families that suddenly had public outbursts which were deemed as hysterical. You were familiar with the stories, about Mrs. Dormer’s dull complexion and Mrs. Hastings’ scarred wrists, all whispers of misfortune were now your reality.

Tommy and your husband had never seen eye to eye on any particular topic. Both were stubborn men who belonged to different political parties and lived completely different realities. Your husband was born with a silver spoon in hand while Tommy built his kingdom out of wooden sticks and cut stones. But those eyes, those adoring blue eyes wrapped you in from the first time they met. It started with stolen glances and escalated to a passionate night shared in his office as you delivered some papers on behalf of your husband. He decided you had the loveliest broken smile he had ever seen. The most delicate laugh and the wittiest humor, one he would not mind hearing time and time again.

‘Did you listen to a word I said Mr. Shelby?’

‘I- I don’t believe I did, no.’ He remarked, clearing his throat.

She smirked. ‘I-I-I’ She mocked. ‘Stuttering is for children and tight-lipped fools. Are you a fool Mr. Shelby?’

You exhaled words of pleasure in each others ears. Bodies molding together like clay and fingertips eager to explore. Exhaustion came after and a simple kiss was placed upon his lover’s lips as if it were already a routine. Both clinging to the affection you so desperately craved.

Months of passion were spent in secrecy up until the moment your husband caught on, almost crushing your wind pipe and blinding you out of rage. Not because he loved you, oh no, but because he craved power and dominance. A poor little rich boy does not share. So when the venue and seating were arranged for the gala he made sure to have Thomas Shelby in front of him, to taunt you, to dangle his prized possession in his opponent's face. To give you a glimpse into the life you wanted, yet gripping your thigh beneath the table as if saying ‘Don’t you dare’.

The torrid affair you shared with the Shelby man had ended a few weeks prior with a handwritten letter, but your absence from such events told him what he couldn't decipher from your words.

‘Dear sir,

It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter. I hope you understand my reason for ending this relationship. I love my husband, you see, and the idea of breaking this marriage is enough to make my heart weep. My whorish ways have brought misery to my house, but be not alarmed by this, for my husband is very generous and will gladly offer you a sum of money for your silence. You must excuse my behavior these past few months and, therefore, understand the severity of the situation.

Best wishes, Y/N.’

The letter sat in his pocket weighing heavily against the floor. He rejected the money, of course, but it didn't save his heart from breaking any further, and his mind from wandering to the atrocious acts your husband performed out of hatred. Thomas was a dangerous man, but your husband was worse, and his wrath would treble his political career, crease his business, and ruin his family. Polly had warned him many times about the dangers of thinking with his cock, but it was more than that. Arthur had payed for other whores to keep him company, but he could bed no other. It was the way you said his name in wonder whenever you saw each other after weeks apart. You were a wondrous creature shrouded in a mysterious, yet inviting, aura. One who sported a smile, such a sweet smile on those cherry red lips that made his own twitch and heart clench.

It was the way you grimaced as your husband squeezed your arm that made his feet have a life of their own. He marched confidently up to you both, eyeing him with brutality, but switching to you with softness. Your eyes widened pleadingly at him to stop, to stop at once, to turn around and save himself from trouble.

“Ah Mr. Shelby, what a pleasant surprise.” Your husband said, sporting a tight smile and a poised stance. Tommy nodded, “Mr. Crooke, Mr.s- Crooke”. Your eyes bore daggers into his. Your husband shook his hand firmly in a weak attempt to exhume further dominance, when, in truth, all of them knew who really owned the room.

“Excuse my wife’s appearance, say. She’s not been her best these past few weeks, isn't that right darling?” Your husband said as he ran the back of his index finger gently over your cheek. Your once shimmering eyes appeared lifeless under the yellowish glare of the chandelier- a shell of the woman you had been, the woman you should be. “Wonder why that is sir,” Tommy bit back. Your husband chuckled, “You’re a bold man Mr. Shelby.” The men stared down at each other down as men tend to do.

“So they say.” Tommy replied.

“You've caught my attention, Mr. Shelby,” your husband started, “and in a most ill-manner may I add.” Tommy quirked a brow and urged him to go on. “Mr. Shelby I do not think it is in anyone’s best interest for me to comment on my wife’s extra curricular, is it not?” Your posture remained stoic, eyes trained to the expensive champagne in your hand praying that somehow you could shrink ten sizes and bathe in it. Stretch your arms and do laps on the clear glasses that British aristocracy drank in sighs and content giggles. You had silly daydreams like these. Some not so silly. Ones drenched in crimson liquid as if you were a butcher at the end of your shift, only to look around and see your husband’s body displayed in all his fat glory.

You sucked in a breath and uttered, “Gentlemen you must excuse me, I need to use the powder room.” Your husbands hand stopped gripped your forearm as you made your exit, “Don’t be long dear.” He uttered menacingly.

You leaned up against the green wall that lead to a long corridor, away from prying eyes and the clink of heels against expensive tiles. Lungs heavy, hands trembling, and mouth parting like a fish out of water. You felt foolish. You had lived years below your husband’s scrutinizing thumb, surrounded by words of empty headed strangers on how lucky you were to have married such a bright and clever man. A man who rejoiced at the sight of her trembling figure and got off on her agonizing screams that left her feeling like a vegetable for days. A man who curiously spit false facts with such emotion that caught the ears of the rich and the weak. And then she met him. And then life ripped that away.

As if on cue, Tommy hurried towards her with that ever prominent scowl on his face, “Y/N, love-“

“No! No Tommy we cannot speak!” She pushed his hands away, further encouraging the scowl to become two tattooed lines in between his eyes. “Listen to me Y/N, stop fighting and fuckin’ listen ey?” He grabbed her trembling hands in his careful not to hurt her further. “What? What could possibly be so important to tell me right now that would make tonight’s punishment worth it?” You growled in contempt.

“In about three minutes I will go into a room with your husband to bargain your freedom.” He grabbed your plum face in his hands, urging for your eyes to meet, for a reassurance, a peace of mind, a promise.

“He won’t give me up Tommy, he won’t.” You noticed his eyes waiver in a way that only a heartbreak could cause. They were filled with urgency, a sense of dread, because how could you not trust him? How could you not see that everything he is and everything he does is for you?

“The greatest grief in my life will come if I leave you in the hands of that monster. All of this,” he said gesturing around him, “all of this is collateral, Y/N. I’ve accepted that risk of dying, I do it every day for stupid shit Y/N, for really stupid shit.”

“Oh God! Oh God!” You moaned, crying in despair. You shook your head as tears coated your frosted cheeks, unable to comprehend the thought of freedom and actual love.

The orchestra started playing in the dining hall soliciting the guest’s attention to a melodic grace. The violins struck their cords in an unruly manner, insisting on being heard. Your husband whistled as he came toward you both making you separate. “Mr. Shelby, I believe we have pressing matters to attend?” He said. In his shifty brown eyes lied an expression you could not read. And so both men entered the room with the big fireplace and oak chairs. The mahogany door closed with a thud that coincidentally resonated beautifully with the melodic sound of the band.

The doors opened just as quickly as they had closed. Or had the hours flown by? You couldn't tell. In the torturous time you had been left outside, a small crowd had gathered around you. Whispers of ‘mistress’ and ‘foes’ and ‘ruins’ had been said, but most just repeated the few phrases that could be heard from inside the room. The two politicians stepped out having reached a mutual decision. One having lost a sum of money that would leave him in financial ruin for the rest of his life. The other with promised assets that would change his family’s fortune and the value of his name.

Your eyes met the Shelby’s blue ones, a smirk adorning his features as he stared at you. His woman. “Now, what’s this I hear about you doubting me love?” He murmured. You shook your head in disbelief, a small smile itching to be seen as your eyes darted over to your husband. “I don’t- I don’t get it Tommy, what did you do?” You asked grasping the lapels of his evening suit. Your hands tugging and caressing them ceremoniously as anxious tears pooled in your eyes.

“Don’t concern yourself with business Y/N-“

“No! No, I will most certainly concern myself with business. Business that involves me. Business that has a means to freedom and life- a life Tommy, a-a life without fear.” She insisted, but he only smiled and kissed her lips gently, ignoring the ever growing fight that surrounded them. Your husband had drawn a gun in contempt, only to be tackled by Tommy’s men. He never was quick on his feet.

It happened months later in the middle of an uncertain spring, when his face popped in your mind again. You had seen him in the shadows and in every drunk that passed you in the street. You saw him beneath the knife of the butcher, when rain fell from parted skies, and in the ominous sound violins made when played. But worst of all, you had seen his face in Arthur Shelby’s as he screamed at you yet again for getting in his way. Most of the family had accepted your relationship, as they pitied your cold sweats and silent demeanor, but mostly because the deal didn't ruin the Shelby empire.

Once home, you stared aimlessly at the crackling fire, allowing the warmth to envelope you like a protective hug. Tommy made his way towards your figure and sat cross legged, whisky in hand. “Where’s your mind today, bird?” He whispered, tenderly stroking your pinned hair.

“Thinking about the night my husband sold me like cattle.” Tommy side eyed you, clearly tense about the topic. “Did he?” you pressed again, “no one’s ever told me anything about it. I know we technically won, b- but Arthur’s been up my arse again and I can’t, not for the life of me, continue to be a prisoner of utterly worthless and untrue remarks!” She grew agitated withe very word, but all were true, and he knew this. His hand continued rubbing circles in the back of her neck and chuckle, a small one, escaped his lips.

“Do you take me for a fool Tommy? Because I assure-“

“I don’t.” He cut her off. “You're no fool. I think you've proven that a few times now, right? You weren't a fool when you were with him and you're not one now.”

“Then what, Tommy? What could have possibly been said that guaranteed my freedom and his ruin?”

He sighed sensing her desperation, but he couldn't possibly tell her. In fact, he hadn't even told his family. Arthur’s distaste for Y/N was shrouded in mystery itself, more so a rendition of the protective older brother, a one man play. Any other man would have disclosed the information to a close confidant, but not Tommy- never Tommy. It is why under the fire’s glow and the tenderness of your flesh beneath his fingers, he promised himself yet again to never speak a word of it to anyone, not even you. It would remain an active memory buried in the inner, darkest corners of his mind. Each time he visited Mr. Crooke, in a most disclosed location, he would remember to discard the clothing used and have an alibi prepared. A pesky little thing he was, a washed up creature that would receive every punishment he gave; but no one should know, least of all her, because just like that night, no one else was in the room where it happened. No one knew the words that were spoken or how the deal was made.

Only assumptions were made. And with one last stroke of the cheek and a light kiss to the lips, Thomas Shelby and Y/N stood up in silent agreement and retired to their newly marital bed.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #Thomas Shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy x reader #peaky blinders tommy #Tommy Shelby x reader #peakascum #arthur shelby imagine #Arthur Shelby #John Shelby #finn shelby #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #polly shelby

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slickbackdani · 4 years

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Batman Movie Villains Ranked from Worst to Best

Recently, a YouTuber I follow by the name of Mr. Rogues released a list of Batman villains ranked from worst to best. I have nothing but the utmost of respect for Mr. Rogues as a content creator, but I took issue with his list because his long-standing biases were often the deciding factor in many of his rankings. So, I decided to do a list of my own.

I’ll be going over every Batman villain to appear in the movies, briefly analyzing their portrayals and ranking them on a scale of 1 to 5. To prevent the list from being too cluttered, I’ll be separating the villains by which movie series they’re part of. Here we go!

Burton/Schumacher Tetralogy

Bane: Perhaps the only villain in this series I’d call “bad.” The calculating tactician of the comics is nowhere to be found here; instead, he’s reduced to a monosyllabic, brain-dead stooge for the other villains. Overall, he does nothing that couldn’t be done by a random henchman. 1/5

Two-Face: A deeply layered villain in the comics, Two-Face sadly gets upstaged by the other major rogue in the movie, but that’s not to say he doesn’t leave an impression. Tommy Lee Jones gives him a manic and mercurial demeanor that, combined with his colorful design, wouldn’t be out of place in the Adam West series. The size and scope of his criminal organization make him a genuine threat, and there’s something darkly fitting about Batman’s former ally being responsible for the creation of Robin. 3/5

Poison Ivy: Mr. Rogues for some reason ranked her as the worst Batman movie villain of all time, and frankly, I don’t see why. Like Tommy Lee Jones as Two-Face, Uma Thurman gives this character a delightfully over-the-top demeanor that combines with a colorful, comic-booky ensemble to make for another great “what-if-this-character-appeared-in-the-Adam-West-series” take. She does a good job juggling the differing facets of Ivy’s character: she’s the put-upon cynic, the craven opportunist, the radical eco-terrorist, and the suave seductress all in one package. 3.5/5

The Penguin: Fuck the Razzies. Danny DeVito made this role his own and set the stage for the character for years to come. He’s a bit of a departure, but a welcome one: far from the refined gentleman of crime Burgess Meredith portrayed, this Penguin is an animalistic thug warped by a lifetime of anger and hatred of the society who rejected him due to his deformities. His signature wardrobe, trick umbrellas, and Penguin gimmick are all there, but DeVito sells the role by showing amazing versatility: he can go from a comical and pitiable weirdo to a terrifying sociopath at the drop of a stovepipe hat. 4/5

Mr. Freeze: I honestly can’t say much about this character that my mutual @wonderfulworldofmichaelford hasn’t already. Arnold Schwarzenegger perfectly encapsulates both popular versions of this character: the flamboyant, pun-loving criminal genius from the Adam West series and the Animated Series’ traumatized scientist desperate to cure his loving wife of her terminal illness. Sure, the puns and hammy one-liners are what this version character is known for, but Ahnold definitely knows when to apply the brakes and give a greatly emotional performance as he tries desperately to cure his wife. 4.5/5

Max Shreck: Probably the only time you’ll see a movie-exclusive character on this list, and deservedly so. Corrupt businessmen are dime-a-dozen in Batman stories, and most of them have little personality outside of being greedy scumbags who either get defeated by the hero or betrayed by the other villains. Shreck, however, is different. Not only does he have an eye-catching fashion sense on par with any of Batman’s famous rogues, but Christopher Walken brings his signature manic intensity to the role, creating a character that’s as wicked and sinister as he is cool and stylish. You totally buy that the general public sees him as the good guy. His warm relationship with his son is also a delight to watch. 4.5/5

Catwoman: Michelle Pfeiffer does a lot to really make the character her own. She gets a lot of genuinely badass moments, but underneath all of her coolness lies the undercurrent that she’s a broken, traumatized character lashing out at the people who abused her and took her for granted. Even when she takes these ideals to unreasonable extremes, you never stop feeling like the retribution she brings on her enemies is at least a little warranted. Also, she has amazing romantic chemistry with Batman and her costume is fucking metal. 5/5

The Ridder: It’s Jim Carrey. 5/5

The Joker: This role is perhaps the one that set the standard for future Jokers to follow: Jack Nicholson’s humorous yet unnerving performance signaled to audiences early on that this would not be the goofy trickster of the Silver Age, but a different beast entirely. This Joker is a film noir gangster on crack: a disfigured mob hitman who quickly takes the entire criminal underworld by storm and unleashes his special brand of chaos and destruction across Gotham. He’s an artist, a showman, a charismatic leader, and the man responsible for ruining Bruce Wayne’s life. 5/5

Christopher Nolan Trilogy

Talia al Ghul: You know that recent trend in Disney movies where a side character we thought was harmless and inconsequential turned out to have been the villain all along in a twist with no buildup or foreshadowing with the reveal happening too late in the movie for this character to really do anything cool or impressive before being unceremoniously defeated? That’s Talia. DKR is the weakest of the three Nolan films, and I feel like it would’ve been much better received without this twist villain contrivedly shoehorned in. Also, while I could kinda forgive the trilogy’s whitewashing of other villains like Ra’s al Ghul and Bane due to the talent their actors display, Marion Cotillard doesn’t get a pass because she just doesn’t have the charisma or screen presence needed to pull it off. 1/5

Victor Zsasz: While the idea of redefining Zsasz as an over enthusiastic mob hitman instead of a serial killer is very interesting, it’s ruined by the fact that he barely even appears in the movie and doesn’t really do or say much of anything despite the buildup he gets. 1.5/5

Two-Face: Aaron Eckhart portrays Harvey Dent as a character of tragedy in a slightly different way than other tragic villains in superhero movies: he’s lashing out at a society he feels wronged him, but instead of being a lifelong outcast or put-upon loser, he was a handsome, successful crusader for the common good who lost everything he once held dear all in one fell swoop. You really feel for him even as he does horrible things. If I had to nitpick, though, I am slightly bothered by the fact that he plays some comic book movie cliches straight (i.e. they never call him by his alias and he dies at the end,) but it’s a solid performance overall. 3/5

Scarecrow: I’ll be upfront and admit that I’m more than a little annoyed that certain facets of the character had been changed in the name of “realism” — once again, they never call him by his villain name and he never wears a comic-accurate costume — but other than that, I can’t complain. Cillian Murphy plays the character with a smarmy, eerie charm that really makes his scenes stand out, his willingness to ally himself with other villains suits his character well, and the fact that he appears in three consecutive films with a different evil scheme in each really helps tie the movies together. 3.5/5

Catwoman: Much like other secondary villains in this trilogy, she really doesn’t get a chance to shine compared to the main antagonist — and, once again, it pisses me off a little that they do the whole “never refer to her as Catwoman but vaguely hint at it” thing — but she’s everything a modern Catwoman should be. She’s sly, manipulative, really holds her own in a fight, has great chemistry with Bruce Wayne... it’s all there. It’s also great to see Anne Hathaway break away from her usual type casting to play a role this dynamic. 4/5

Ra’s al Ghul: He’s a character that was in desperate need of mainstream exposure, and by God that’s what he got. Making him Bruce Wayne’s mentor adds a layer of personal tragedy to the climax where our hero has to stop the man who made him who he is from destroying Gotham with his admittedly brilliant plan. Add in a strong, captivating performance from Liam Neeson before we found out he was a racist asshole, and we’ve got one hell of an overarching villain. 4.5/5

The Joker: Everybody’s already discussed this version of the character to hell and back and likely will for years to come, so I’ll keep it very brief. He’s funny, he’s badass, he’s terrifying, he has great dialogue, it sucks that Heath Ledger didn’t live to see his performance reach the audience it got, and he basically makes the entire film. 5/5

Bane: Mr. Rogues actually ranked Bane higher than Joker on his list, and keeping it 100, I actually agree with him here. Finally, after decades of being dumbed down and misrepresented outside of comics, Bane is finally portrayed as the tactical genius from the comics. Tom Hardy plays Bane to perfection, being very believable as the peak of human physical and mental achievement, the man who broke Batman physically and emotionally. His design is iconic, his every line is quotable, his voice is weirdly fitting, and the memes are funny. 5/5

DC Extended Universe

KGBeast: Another point where I agree wholeheartedly with Mr. Rogues. He is absolutely wasted in BVS, being nothing but a generic henchman for Lex Luthor. He doesn’t wear his costume from the comics, he’s never referred to by his alias, he doesn’t have his signature cybernetic enhancements, and he never does or says anything noteworthy. 1/5

The Joker: Ugh. I don’t know what’s worst: the tacky clothes, the stupid tattoos, the weird Richard Nixon impression that passes as his voice, the fact that promotional material hyped him up as a “beautiful tragedy” of a character even though he’s only in the movie for like 10 minutes and barely does anything, Jared Leto’s toxic edgelord behavior on set done with the flimsy pretense of “getting into character,” or the fact that he’s just trying to copy Heath Ledger instead of making the role his own. 1/5

Victor Zsasz: Chris Messina proves undoubtedly that Zsasz CAN work as a secondary villain in a Batman movie. He’s once again a mob assassin who enjoys his job a little too much, but unlike Batman Begins, he really gets time to shine. He’s just as sadistic and depraved as in the comics, but he also has this disarming, casual demeanor about him like he’s just indulging a hobby instead of slicing innocent people’s faces off. His close friendship with his boss Black Mask adds some depth to the character as well. 3/5

Killer Croc: Sadly, he doesn’t get much time in the spotlight, but he’s pretty cool nonetheless. The makeup and prosthetics used to create him look amazing, and Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje’s deep voice and imposing body language make him really stand out as an intimidating presence. He’s often in the background, which fits his role as an outcast by choice and a man of few words, but whenever he does get focus, he has everyone’s attention. It really would be a shame if this character’s only appearance was in a mediocre schlock action movie, but he makes the most of what he has. 3.5/5

Deadshot: Another highlight of what would otherwise be a forgettable film, Deadshot is just as cool and competent as he’s always been in other media, but this portrayal stands out for one simple reason. Will Smith was a very odd choice to play the role, but it worked out for the best here because you get the sense he truly understands the characters. He’s ruthless and pragmatic, but has just as enough charm and depth to make him likable. 4/5

Black Mask: I, like many, was skeptical when I saw early trailers depicting Roman Sionis as a foppish weirdo who doesn’t wear his signature mask, but upon seeing the final movie, I really feel like he has the high ground over other DCEU villains. Ewan McGregor is endlessly captivating in the role, portraying him as a swaggering dandy who is nevertheless dangerous due to his boundless narcissism and explosive temper. Sure, those who deal in absolutes would be put off from the differences with his comic counterpart — who is far more cold and humorless — but from a certain point of view, this flamboyant take on the character isn’t so much a departure as it is an addition to make him stand out while keeping his role the same. Black Mask has always been a middleman between the traditional mobsters of yesteryear and the colorful rogues that plague Gotham today, and this portrayal perfectly encapsulates that. He works in the shadows, but isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty; he flies off the handle and gets reckless at times, but there’s no question that the whole operation was his idea. 5/5

Harley Quinn: Margot Robbie owns this role. She’s unbelievably dazzling as a badass, funny, sexy antihero who deals greatly with tragedy and proves that there’s always been more to her than her initial role as the Joker’s sidekick. Again, not much to say, but she’s almost perfect. 5/5

#dc villains #batman #batman villains #dark knight #dc extended universe #batman movie

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svtxsoju · 4 years

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00. prologue | dear miss soju

ღ Synopsis: College is hard. Love is even harder. Good thing the students of Mansae University can write in to Miss Soju, the campus’ very own romance advice columnist! The only problem is she’s never been in a relationship. Ever. There’s no telling what kind of chaos she may cause in the love lives of several of MU’s most eligible bachelors. Too bad no one knows who she really is! ღ Characters/Pairings: college AU! Seventeen & OC’s, Pairings TBA! ღ Genre: Romantic Comedy, Slice of Life ღ Warning(s): Mentions of alcohol, underage drinking, mentions of sex, language, bad jokes ღ Word Count: 2.6k words ღ Binu’s Note: hi to anyone who is reading this!!! i’m super excited (and kinda nervous :0) to post this bc i’ve been working on this project for a while now. aaaa i hope there are at least some people who can enjoy it! this is a relatively short-ish chapter but it’s p dense with exposition lol but anyway if ur reading this, thank you i love you!!!

《 ⊛ Author’s Note & Credits ⊛ Masterlist ⊛ Navigation ⊛ 》

《 Previous ⊛ Next 》

Introducing The Front ’s New Romance Advice Columnist: Miss Soju!

We all have an ideal: an ideal type, an ideal first date, an ideal relationship. The problem is love isn’t ideal at all. And sooner or later, we find ourselves sitting on that plastic chair in that tent on the side of the road with an ache in our chest. You’re hurt, confused, and kind of going crazy-- all the tell-tale symptoms of heartbreak are there. And the only cure? Soju, of course!

Finding a decent partner and maintaining a healthy, sustainable relationship is difficult enough as it is. Then layer it with the culture shock of university, where you’re experiencing actual adulthood for the first time without mommy and daddy to hold your hand. It’s enough to make anyone lose their minds! Sure, you could always turn to your friends for support and advice, but in all honesty, they’re even more of a mess than you are.

That’s why Mansae University’s affiliate newspaper, The Front, will be reviving our romance advice column this fall! Each week, Miss Soju will be answering all your burning questions, and that means all of them. Her expertise touches on topics as simple as explaining to that one guy that your love is fated because you passed each other at Yuhaeng Quad, like three times, and extends to more extreme situations that require an anonymous veil, like how to confess to your new boyfriend with the furry fetish that you’ve been severely allergic to animals since you were three and you have no idea how any animals act, let alone… Yikes.

It’s true, college is full of new and bizarre experiences, some we must go through and some we’d much rather avoid. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet the love of your life here. But it’s okay to admit that you need a little guidance through the mystical and confusing world of college dating. Miss Soju has got your back, and she’s not afraid to hit you with that real shit. As she always says, good advice is like taking a shot: sweet on the lips but burns your throat as you swallow it down.

Monday, June 3rd, 2019 3:07PM

“Jihoon, I don’t know if I can do this.”

Name: So Joohyun. Major: Journalism major with a minor in communications. Estimated graduation year: 2021. Desired position: World News Journalism Intern. That was what she had put on her application for The Front’s junior internship program. She had made sure to attach her published articles and to emphasize her interest in-- no, her passion for-- reporting compelling stories on an international scale. Not once in her application did she indicate that she was an expert in love or sex, let alone qualified to give others advice on the subjects! In fact, she was probably the least qualified person on campus for this position, which was probably the most perplexing aspect of the whole situation.

But despite all of that, there she was, sitting in Yuhaeng Quad with her best friend, reading the promo piece she had written for Miss Soju. Jihoon had been ecstatic when he had thought of the nickname back in high school. She had snuck bottles of the alcohol over to his house one night after finals week, and he had drunkenly claimed that the name was doubly clever since So-ju were also the first two syllables in her name. When the newspaper had told her she needed an anonymous pen name, it was the only thing she could think of, mostly because creating a secret identity had made her in desperate need of a drink. She changed her mind. Having a secret identity was equally as perplexing as pretending to know how to spice up people’s sex lives. It was like she was some kind of Love Spiderman. She was not ready for that kind of great power or the great responsibility that came with it!

“‘I don’t know if I can do this’?” Jihoon repeated her words slowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say those words in that order. Can I take your picture? I need to commemorate this moment.”

“Can’t you see that I am having a crisis?” she whined. “The integrity of my career is on the line because I’ve never bothered to go on a date!”

“When are you not having a crisis?” Jihoon laughed. He sat up from lying down on their picnic tarp to give her full view of his smug grin. Originally, he had dragged Joohyun outside in hopes that the perfect summer weather would help relieve some of her stress from the past week. He even found her favorite spot under the shade of an ancient tree that overlooked the stretch of green field. But Jihoon could not call himself a proper best friend if he passed on an opportunity to rub all of this in her face. “This is what you get for chickening out on all our group blind dates! I could have scored that hot bassist girl with the thigh tattoo, but nooo, you always had to put your career first.”

“Sue me for having priorities!” she huffed. Leave it to Jihoon to chalk this all up to karma. Now that he mentioned it though, she couldn’t help but feel like a higher power was taking a piss on her life. Or maybe it was just the shit-eating smile on Jihoon’s face that had her on edge. Joohyun tried to avert her focus to a couple of boys tossing a frisbee around instead, but somehow that irked her too. The idyllic weather, the carefree students, everything that was pleasant seemed to mock her sour mood. She pouted at the ground in defeat, and continued, “You are the first person to know that if I was told that dating and fucking around were going to be crucial to my journey to becoming South Korea’s top journalist by the time I turn 25, I would have become a hoe long ago.”

“Woah, are you gonna start your thot phase for this? Are we gonna have a hot girl summer?” The boy began to bounce excitedly. Joohyun felt it was high time to give him the finger, but she also felt a small smile tugging at her frown. “Easier said than done, though. Remember Jessi from high school?”

“Yeah I remember,” she said with a sigh. High school romance had lured so many of her friends into its clutches, with its enticing promises of sweet chocolates and stuffed animals, and she had helplessly watched from the top of the class as they forsook their grades for boys who didn’t even know what deodorant was. She only shuddered to think of the state of their grades after a nasty break up. It was then that Joohyun had decided that her future was not worth risking over a boy’s attention. “Which is exactly why I never got involved in all that mess in the first place.”

“This must be the gods telling you that it’s time to.”

“What kind of fucked up god sets up a virgin as a love advice columnist?” she asked the sky loudly. If she had known there was anyone listening, she would have insisted that her question was rhetorical and was not in need of any type of response! However, the gods cared not for grammar technicalities on the mortal plane. They just couldn’t resist the chance to respond to someone so openly questioning their decisions with some good ol’ spite. Honestly, with the way things were going for her lately, Joohyun probably should have expected the frisbee flying merrily towards her face, even if she hadn’t just challenge the universe.

“Oh fuck!” Joohyun jerked out of the way and felt the frisbee thunk against her shoulder instead. “Ow.” At this point, she didn’t even have the capacity to be annoyed; she just braced herself for whatever misfortune life threw at her next.

“Sorry about that!” A boy called out, jogging up to them. As he came into clearer view, she noted that he looked far from misfortunate, and also had to remind herself that staring was rude even if someone was unnaturally handsome. His features were soft yet striking, like he had been carefully sculpted from cotton candy. Or maybe a fluffy rain cloud? Joohyun shook her head a little as if that would get her to stop staring so shamelessly. She speculated whether it was the sun that made it look like his blond hair was a glowing halo. Okay seriously, stop staring! He gave Joohyun a sweet smile when he reached them. “My friend got a bit distracted. Now that I’m here, I can’t say that I blame him. Hope we didn’t do too much damage!”

“Uh,” was her captivating reply.

Jihoon, never one to miss such a ripe opportunity, piped up beside her. “She’ll be fine. This is Joohyun, by the way.”

His smile widened at Woozi’s introduction, and Joohyun could swear there was an actual twinkle in his eyes. “Nice to meet you both. I’m--”

“Yoon Jeonghan!” They all looked towards the call. The ethereal boy let out a startlingly loud cackle at the sight of his friend, who gave the two strangers a sheepish wave before continuing to gesture for Jeonghan to return. Joohyun must have been put in a staring mood, because she didn’t miss how his friend’s big ears were a shade of pink and how they bloomed into a cherry red when they briefly made eye contact. She caught herself wondering if all the boys at Mansae University were always this cute.

“I guess I better go,” the boy named Jeonghan shrugged. Joohyun felt his fingers brush against hers when he took the frisbee from her hand, his eyes glinting mischievously. Now she was sure she was seeing things. “See you two around!”

They both watched him retreat in an awestruck silence. That was certainly… unanticipated. Even long after Jeonghan and his friend were out of sight, the brief encounter left a blanket of fogginess lingering over them. Had she not felt his fingers on hers, Joohyun would have easily believed that it had all been in her head. At the same time, she was pretty sure that she wasn’t bold enough to conjure up someone that looked like that on her own. As she continued to fathom how a human being could glow, Joohyun felt the fog dissipate into the warm summer air. She felt like she was waking up from a disorienting dream, and she blinked to hasten the process. To her growing bewilderment, she found that her heartbeat was steady as she came back to her senses, her mind seemingly devoid of the panic and doubt that had plagued her all week. It was a gasp of fresh air.

Jihoon, on the other hand, had long broken free from the strong impression that the blond boy made. He noted the dazed look on his best friend’s face and rolled his eyes. Who knew that a pretty boy was all it took to make her shut up a bit? He nudged Joohyun impatiently, so that she could pay attention to him while he roasted her for totally flubbing her chances. “You thinking of risking it all for that guy?”

In an instant, Joohyun slammed herself back into reality just to shove Jihoon away from her. “That is so not happening,” she said a little too indignantly. Before Jihoon could reassure her that the guy seemed interested enough even though she had only said a single syllable to him, Joohyun suddenly turned to him very seriously. “Do you really think I can do it, Jihoon?”

“What, bang that guy? I can try calling him back here if you want,” he snickered.

“You know what I mean!”

“Okay sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Jihoon replied, his grin now melting into a familiar smile, the one that could put her at ease on her lowest days. “I just don’t know why you have to ask. You and I both know that you kick ass at writing. You’ve written about stuff like natural disasters and the student protests, no problem at all. It’s not like you have a PhD in environmental science or politics. How is this any different? ”

Joohyun scrunched her face as if Jihoon had just suggested that chocolate milk came from brown cows. “Dude, they’re completely different. Those articles were reporting on facts. I did research, I conducted interviews!”

“That’s what I’m saying, Joo!” Jihoon exclaimed suddenly. As smart as she was, he couldn’t help getting a little giddy whenever he thought of a good idea before her. “Why not treat Miss Soju like any other of your other projects? I mean, love is probably one of the most well-documented experiences throughout history, and people are still going through all the same shit. There’s probably thousands of resources for a man simping on a hot chick alone. You can even take your pick, like movies, songs, books, weird couples on Youtube?You don’t need to have experience, because you can just do the research! ”

“Research?” Joohyun repeated. If there was one thing that she was good at, it was doing the work. From the moment she had decided to become a journalist, everything she had done was a strategic move to get her closer to her end goal. She had spent sleepless nights perfecting the details of her writing, countless hours reading through endless archives of old articles. Hell, she even restricted herself from dating for years just so she could focus on keep her grades up. It was almost too easy of a solution. Maybe she was meant to do this after all.

Another couple of months of research would simply be another hurdle on her way to the finish line and she was getting closer and closer. Finally, she felt a smile spread across her cheeks, a real, genuine smile. “I… I can do that.”

“Now that,” Jihoon said as he took her hand in his, pulling her up to her feet, “sounds like So Joohyun. Or should I say Miss Soju?”

She laughed as she dusted the grass off of her butt. “You know, it’s probably not a good idea to include the first part of my name in my anonymous persona. It makes it so obvious that it’s me.”

“Yeah, I mean it would be obvious if people actually knew who you were in the first place,” Jihoon scoffed, narrowly dodging a kick from her. “That’s a good thing for you! Anyway, let’s get out of here, I have a couple of tweaks to make to my song before releasing it tonight. Could you listen to it by the way? I need to know if it’s too cheesy.”

“Oh, the song you’re writing about your mystery muse?” Joohyun hummed playfully while packing up their blanket. She followed after her best friend as he began the short climb uphill. “I don’t know if I want to, you’ve been pretty out of pocket today.”

“Hey!” he said defensively. “First: I don’t need a muse for my songs, I just have a very vivid imagination and my talent does the rest. Second: I literally just stopped you from giving up on your lifelong dream of becoming a journalist, so I think you owe me one. You’re just jealous I can write love songs without having an existential crisis.”

“See, that is what I mean by out of pocket,” she paused for a beat. “I may be willing to listen to your song. For a small price, of course.”

“Okay, deal,” he agreed without hesitation, missing the way Joohyun deviously smirked beside him. They reached the concrete pavement at top of the hill and headed in the direction of his nearby apartment. “What is it this time, Ms. So?”

“Well Mr. Lee, thanks to your lovely suggestion earlier, I have been inspired to begin work immediately. So we shall be watching Twilight on movie night,” she said all too gleefully, mostly for satisfaction that Jihoon’s twisted face of disgust gave her.

“Do we have to?” he groaned.

“It’s for my research!”

#seventeen #seventeen scenario #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #jihoon scenarios #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #pour.up #dj.woozi #mu.eros #soju.queen

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slashingdisneypasta · 5 years

Text

Horror Villains Drabble #1

Plot: The Horror Villain in your lives S/O(Who you were also very close to) has just died, and you’re there to watch them crumple.

Includes: Jason Voorhees, Mayor Buckman and Sheriff Hoyt

Warnings: Angst

Hah, I think these just get shorter and shorter, which is funny because this is not the order I wrote them in.

~~~

Jason Voorhees:

Today, I’m going to visit Jason. Who I guess a normal person would my… brother-in-law? Stepbrother-in-law, because his girl was my stepsister. Not that that matters now, she died in a car crash 3 weeks ago. Which is why I’m checking on him, bearing a new tablecloth to lighten up his creepy little cabin and ginger ale. She said once that he liked that stuff, and the tablecloth was my idea. I didn’t know what else to bring him in this situation, since I only met him once! But I thought I should, bring something.

The time I met him was because she wanted someone to know about him, that she trusts. In case something bad happened. Which, evidently, it did. How she knew it would happen? Well, there’s an ongoing news segment dedicated to the investigation they distastefully opened the day of her funeral, when the coroner that checked her out mentioned a gang tattoo hidden on the top of her thigh. Jason doesn’t need to know that part though.

From what I gathered about him when she introduced us and I stuck around with them the day we met and what I remind myself of quickly in my head as I leave the Ford Fiesta I got for my 18th birthday 3 years ago, is that mostly he’s a delicate soul. At least, when it has to do with her, or his mother. Her name’s Pamela, but I hope that doesn’t come up because their relationship scares me and I don’t want much to do with it. I especially don’t want to bring her up to him.

I start walking towards his cabin, recalling other things about him I could mention or just that I should remember. His favourite colour’s green, like oak leaves and definitely not moss. He drowned because some councillors who were supposed to be watching him were getting jiggy with it in the forest, and because of that he has an ingrained hatred and need to eradicate all premarital sex havers.

Pft, that’ll be fine then. My lame ass is still a virgin. Not that I’m bitter about it or that I’m going to mention that, at all.

Finally, I reach the Voorhees’ cabin, which is clearly what is seeing as I can smell the stench of Mum’s rotted head wafting from inside that still haunts my dreams from last time. I put down the bag with his new, green tablecloth, ginger ale and my Christmas cookies -because I need them to get eaten and its been a month and they’re still sitting in my cupboard, and this seemed like a good a time as any. Maybe Jason’ll appreciate the patters I painstakingly iced on them. He supposedly has the brain of a child,- on the ground and stan dup straighter, biting the inside of my lips.

Taking a cautious step forward, wondering whether I should knock even though the door’s open, I call carefully. “Jason? Hey, it’s Y/N. (Your Stepsisters Name)’s, sister? We met, and I just wanted to check on you. She asked me to.”

When in doubt, make sure he knows who I am and my connection to her. She’s his soft spot.

No answer.

I shuffle to the side, seeing if I can get a glimpse inside the house and see if he’s actually in there, without overstepping and walking on in. “I brought ginger ale- “

Suddenly heavy footsteps come up behind me and stop close by. I whip around, and suddenly I feel like a fly in comparison to the giant that is Jason Voorhees. I soften my expression and pick up the bag, offering it to him. “Did you hear all that?”

He nods.

“Is it okay that I’m here?”

Again, he nods. I let my muscles relax, and go to sit down on the moulding, termite ravished porch. Before I start taking things out of the bag, I peer up at him, and make sure this is okay. “Is it okay that I sit here? I’ll get up if its not, its okay.”

No nod this time, I guess he got tired of it which is understandable- I would too if that was my only mode of communication. Instead, he walks over, movement weirdly purposeful, and sits down beside me. The wood moves worryingly under his weight, but stays sturdy thank god.

I flash him a kind smile, and start showing him what’s in the bag. Once I’m finished, I decide to cut straight to the chase, because he is not responding to any of this. Not even the snowman cookie awakened a reaction, and that one is freaken masterful. I turn to him, as he holds gently onto the ginger ale between his knees but doesn’t open it, and drop my forearms onto my knees. “So, Jason. Sweetheart, you gotta tell me o-or… Morse code to me, or whatever if you’re okay or not. Because that’s what I’m here for. For her, and therefore you are too. You get me?” I peer up at him, hoping he understands. Because I’m already getting emotional, and I don’t want to start crying again. I will, if we have to go through this painstakingly slowly.

Again, he doesn’t nod. But he does turn his head to look ahead of him and away from me, which I take as him understanding, but avoiding the conversation.

But hey! At least he isn’t walking off or stabbing me. Swallowing, and taking a deep breath, because we have to do this and theirs a tiny part of me that wants to for him and not for her, although the brunt of it is for her, I carry my pointer finger up and ever so gently pat the bottom of his mask. He turns slightly to look at me, and I look softly, empathetically at him. “I, for one, feel terrible.”

His shoulders relax the tiniest bit, so I go on. “I-I mean… I didn’t know her my whole life. Our parents got married when she was already 12. But I was 8, and she was my big sister after that. And, she was… the better one of us! Its true! I mean, you fell for her! And, from what I can tell you have trust issues. Rightly so, but still. She broke through that because she was so good. I can’t… “I let out a heavy breath, but not looking away because I’m brave. “Help, but think that… it should’ve been me, and not her. Okay?” Ohhh god. That sure doesn’t become easier the more times you say it… More a moment, I allow myself to pause. Worry my lip, look away. Then I push back my hair behind my ears and look back at hum, refreshed. Surprising me, when I look back, he’s looking at me. I whisper. “Is that how you feel?”

A moment of meaning passes, before slowly he nods. A more meaningful significant, and consequential then the other nods -other movements, -, simply because its slower. It feels like he’s seriously agreeing with me, like he’s saying ‘Yes, yes. That’s how I feel, I agree. You aren’t alone’.

Its honestly the most understood that I’ve felt since she died. Even her mother wouldn’t look up from the funeral pamphlet and I haven’t seen her since. But Jason, feels like me. Just another flavour, and another face.

Taking a deep breath, with tears filling my eyes now, I nod and take his hand. “Yeah… yeah. I’m sorry about that.”

“One day it’ll get better.”

Mayor Buckman:

I cross my arms and lean back on the house, watching the townspeople as the go about their day. One in particular, troubles me who I don’t let up my disappointed gaze on for minutes, as he bobs through town with an obnoxious smile on his face. All week, I’ve watched Buckman to make sure he’s okay after the funeral, and he’s failed every single test.

She entrusted me with his wellbeing and health, and I’m going to take it seriously. Because, although I don’t have as high a appreciation for his existence as she did due to him… well, trying to kill me and feed me to his crazy people, I acknowledge how he changed, for her. While she was here, the death toll in Pleasant Valley went down to all time low from the last century. Because, he had something to continue for, I guess.

But now he’s desperate to go, and although that makes sense, and I can accept it, even if it meant my last connection to her would be lost, he’s going too fast. He hasn’t even given himself time to mourn. She died, and he’s acting like she just left and he’s going to be seeing her real soon. Which, of course, may be true… But she died. Its going to tear him apart if he doesn’t sit down a second and stop grinning so crazy wide.

It’s a bit scary, actually. How full on he is right now.

As a couple new victims -teenagers, on spring break. Nothing new, - who’ve agreed to stay the night go to the room’s they’ll be staying in, our revered Mayor disappears into his home, uncharacteristically. Curious, I push off the wall and follow. “Buckman?”

“Oh,” Is the only response at first, which I take as ‘Please, come in!’, and do. It’s a very wonky ‘Oh’, coming out twisted around every which way, like you were feeling one way and tried to sound a different way. Chewing the inside my cheek, I creep across loud ass floorboards to the livingroom. There, he’s standing by the window with the blinds closed. He looks tired as hell, somehow. I don’t know how a ghost can look so exhausted, but he does. And it’s a weird thing to see on the usually vibrant southerner. “I was just looking for my good handkerchief, this one’s got the wrong pattern- doesn’t match.”

“Oh, stop it.” I walk on in and sit myself down on the couch, patting the spot beside me for him, bossily. “Why don’t you just mourn?”

He gives me a forced smile, not at all in it, and pointedly refuses to sit with me. Oh, boy. “One doesn’t mourn, when you know you’ll see them again soon.”

Okay, ignoring the fact that neither of us know exactly what happens after you really die and he could just disappear into nothingness rather then see her again because we don’t want to make him mad… Changing tact, I turn to him inquisitively. “Buckman, what are you gonna do when you see her again? What do you wanna do?”

“Ah, well, first I’ll intend to hug the stuffing out a’ her, but after that I believe it’s become a bit personal, and we don’t have that relationship my dear.”

“Okay.” Let’s move past that, because the last thing I want in my head is this man and my sisters bedroom activities. My face darkens determinedly, causing Buckman to squint suspiciously at what I’m about to throw at him. “Well, if you don’t sit down and be sad for more then the 2 seconds it takes for you to meaninglessly switch handkerchiefs, you won’t have the energy to do that. You’ll probably faint, if you can even do that in heaven or… wherever you’re going, and then there will be no hugging.” His face darkens, because he knows I’m right. I lean forward towards him, and reiterate. “No hugging. Zip!”

“Okay!” He raises his hands, begging me to stop causing a self-satisfied smile to come to my face. For a moment more, he thinks -I’m sure, - about leaving and avoiding this again like he has bene since she died, but catches my eye and that does it. He gives a defeated sigh, and sits down beside me. I change my expression to sympathetic, because I know how he feels. She was my sister. I loved her, too.

Awkwardly, I drop a couple pats on his back, as he sits doubled over with his face in his hands. Then even ore awkwardly, I cough into my shoulder. “Tea?”

“Ahhh, yes please.”

Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt:

I grip my spoon so tightly that my knuckles go completely white, but I let him go. Hoyt leaves the room, and the house, and I manage not to scream at him to come back and face me, because Luda Mae asked me to. That’s the only reason I didn’t throw the spoon at him.

… But, he’s crossed a line.

So, I push out of the seat and stomp past Thomas in his breakfast seat and Luda Mae pouring him water and out the door after him. “Oh, Charlie!!”

“Who the fuck- “He turns around, as he was heading for his car and his eyes land on me. Immediately they darken from being irritated, to mad and promptly, sticks up his middle finger at me. I grit my teeth, reach him and snatch it out of the air, throwing his hand back to his side. “What do you want, I’m a busy man.”

“You’re fucking unemployed, shut your trap.” I point with my thumb back into the house, and incredulously at him. “What the hell was that?? I haven’t seen a face like that on Luda Mae… e-ever. Ever. I have never seen her that hurt. What the fuck??”

The look Luda’s face appears in the forefront of my mind again, that appeared on her delicate features right after Hoyt told her to ‘shut the fuck up’. He has never used language like that at her before. God, her face. It was a horrible mix of shocked, and destroyed. She thought, we all thought, that if Hoyt still cared and respected anyone in this family then it was her. Evidently, we were wrong. The fire in my eyes intensify, thinking about the flagrant disrespect. To her! Of all people! That sweet woman! Since I came here, with (Your Friend Who Was With Hoyt’s Name), she has been the kindest.

Hoyt, the least kind. So, I feel zero guilt in tearing him a new one out here.

Oh, you go ahead and flare those nostrils at me Hoyt, I’m not moving. “It’s a family matter, you can stick your nose out of it.”

“Oh,” I say, clutching my heart. “I’m wounded!” He doesn’t think I’ve heard that one before? Well, he’s more of a moron then I thought. “Bottom line, Hoyt, I haven’t seen you be that awful, since you fell in love with- “

“Don’t you dare say her name.” He warns, opening the car door and plopping himself in the front seat. He tries to slam the door shut, but I plant myself between him the door, and hold it open making him deeply sigh. Seeing I wasn’t about to leave, he promptly picks up his gun and a rag and starts cleaning it.

“The person you became with her is worth being. She would never forgive you if you crumpled now. I, would never forgive you.” I point to the house again. “She’s turning in her grave!!”

Hoyt scoffs, a cough of a laugh nearly, and continues to wipe his gun off- of what? I have no idea. He’s just cleaning his gun. Which looks perfectly clean to me. “Well she ain’t here, is she?” He looks up at me next, and the look in his eyes is cold, but not cold enough to force me to back down. “And I don’t remember us ever being friends.”

“Hah, we weren’t.” We will never be. “But guess what? I’m here and I’m here to stay. I won’t let you spiral into a crotchety mess, or even more of a disgusting mess then you’ve always been even with her. And I won’t exactly like it, but I’ll live with it. Because- “

“I don’t need any of your help, honey- “

“Because,” I continue, through grit teeth. His eyes flash at getting cut off, and of course, I revel in it. “I loved her too. I won’t let you become something she would hate. She loved you. Far be it me to understand why, but she did. You could see it in her face, and the way she talked to you. And it hurts so bad, imagining what she might be thinking, watching you now. If she could see you, if she’s seeing you, whatever your stance on religion, she would be heartbroken.”

He looks up, and this time squints at me. “You think I care what she would feel?”

At that little remark, I slam the door in his face, and lean close to the window. “Yes.”

#Horror Villains Drabble #Horror Villains #Horror Villains x Reader #Sheriff Hoyt #Sheriff Hoyt x Reader #Charlie Hewitt #Charlie Hewitt x Reader #Mayor Buckman #Mayor Buckman x Reader #Jason Voorhees x Reader #Jason Voorhees

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dragonstoravens · 4 years

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Babylon Vol. 1: A Different Normal, A Modicum Of Restraint

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

(We’ve got a long one for you today, since the plot is kicking off for real now. Hope you enjoy chapters 6 and 7, we’d love to hear any thoughts or comments!!!)

6. A Different Normal

A fancy black car-- not quite a limo, but close to it, and clearly fully automated-- was waiting in the otherwise empty parking lot when Azure’s dropship landed. She could see a figure leaning against it, shadowy in the low evening light, but she recognized the distinctive braid tucked behind one ear. Something sparkled in it, matching the tiny gemstones in his ears that he definitely hadn’t been wearing last time she saw him. He was dressed casually for now, in a white undershirt and black slacks, which made sense since she had his suit. He looked up as she landed, raising one hand slightly in greeting.

She stepped out of her drop ship, long, high-slitted dress glittering in the orange light of the streetlamps. The champagne color had been her brother’s doing. Apparently, it contrasted nicely with the natural tan of her skin and the golden tones of her red hair. She carried a matching suit in a clear bag over her shoulder. Performing something like a saunter to cover the horrible wobble of her heels, she called to him and waved as she approached. "Hey!"

It was hard to tell in just the light from the fast food sign, but for a moment it looked as if his cheeks had darkened a little when he saw her. By the time she reached him though, he looked about as she remembered him- calm and collected.

“Hello. Thanks for coming, you look… very nice.” He opened the side door of the car for her.

She stepped into the car, hair brushing his arm as she drawled out, "Thanks Hotshot, y'ain't so bad yourself. Brought your suit, fresh outta tailorin’. Matchin' and everythin'."

She had argued with her brother on this for hours, whether or not they needed to match. Crimson insisted it was like marking territory, and wasn’t that his whole goal, to look off-market? Azure didn’t care much for the idea of metaphorically pissing all over her only off-ship friend just to save him from some overzealous mogul parents. But then again, that WAS what she was supposed to do, so the little champagne number was donned and the matching suit tailored to fit with little argument once she’d given in.

She was here now, freshly showered so the engine grease took a backseat to the perfume for once (not that the metallic tang truly left, Crim tried to no avail). Her hair was in shiny curls, carefully separated to look effortless. She laid the suit in the back of the car and made herself comfortable, crossing one leg in front of the other and hoping Trinity wasn’t observant enough to notice just how high the slit in this dress went. Or how uncomfortable these shoes were. Or how…sticky this lipgloss was.

The car ride wasn’t terribly long, but it was long enough for her to ask him the last few questions she had about this and pull out the small add-on she’d been working on. “It’s a short range mental comm link. You plug it into your cybernetic port. It transmits clear and intentional thoughts as auditory stimulation and gives a sort of emotional backsplash to help with tone comprehension. I thought maybe it’d help in case I goofed up real bad or maybe if you wanted me to fill you in on some weird cybernetics detail in case that ever came up.”

“Ingenious.” He pulled his collar aside, exposing the edges of the trinity knot tattoo on his back, and plugged in the attachment. He blinked, and smirked over at her. You take the front seat, I’ll put up the divider and change in the back. That dress is really— “Uh, did that work?”

She nodded, quirking a brow to signify she’d definitely heard that. All of that. “Like a charm. If you gotta put a ‘stop’ at the end of your sentences like a telegraph or somethin’, that’ll guarantee end transmission for that instance. You know, for future champagne dresses.”

“...Got it.” He looked down, trying not to meet her eyes, and almost immediately back up again as his gaze hit the high slit stretching up her thigh… almost to her hip. Ok, definitely needed to stop that train of thought before it even left the station. He grabbed the suit and climbed into the back. “Anyway, I’m going to change. I can quiz you on the way there, have you looked over the messages I sent about the forks?”

“We’re startin’ with forks?” she whined, averting her gaze from anything that could feasibly be considered the divider. “Yeah, I read them. Pull from the outside and move in, don’t drink the lemon bowl.”

“Right. We’ll make a socialite of you yet.”

Entering one of these champagne shindigs, as Azzy referred to them on the way there just to get a rare laugh out of him, was one hell of an ordeal. There was the occasional photographer and way more security than she thought they needed. Her legs were going to give out from beneath her. There were so many people. Why were there so many, there didn’t need to be. She kept her head high and her eyes forward as she tried not to accidentally send Trinity her repeating heels-walking mantra and breathing pattern. She failed miserably, her panic and counts to four seeping into his head. He had tried to set his hand on her shoulder, but she felt bold with nerves and settled it on her hip herself, just above where the skin peeked out. Something in her felt fear and decided it was always better to double down. Probably shouldn’t be afraid of some skin, hotshot. She hoped it went through as smoother than she felt, because she felt terrified.

The only mental response she received was a general feeling of slight annoyance and displeasure, half joking, about equivalent to a casual flip of the bird. Besides the awkward positioning of his hands, he seemed at ease here, at least outwardly. It made sense that he’d be used to this kind of event, but she could feel his vague frustration with the whole affair. He scanned the room, checking out all those surplus guards, as they entered into the main hall. She felt his hand settle more securely on her waist, his fingertips slightly warm against her skin, and watched as a smile came over his face in obvious answer to the raised eyebrows and whispers directed his way as a few of the other attendees noticed his new companion. The smile was an unfamiliar one, to her, like a classy version of a customer service smile, but no one else seemed to detect any insincerity. She supposed it made sense, if that was all they ever saw of him.

She smiled up at him, kind of crooked because that’s the only kind she really had. Her heart was beating a little faster than she was used to, but that would level out soon. She scanned the room herself, making note of the attendants. Glad to know these haven’t changed much since I was a little kid. She laid her hand on his upper back, asking something inane out loud to cover for the fact that this was the best she could really do at reassurance, which she tried to send his way with some kind of success. She wasn’t used to this many eyes on her, and was honestly grateful for his hand on her hip. It grounded her as she desperately fought the urge to turn around and walk out right this instant. Too much noise, too many people. He was warm? And kind of gentle. Pleasant. Much better than the crowds. Crowds were always bad. Trinity was at least sort of nice, in his own weird way.

Trinity could feel her anxiety through the comm, and hoping to more easily guide her through the crowds, he slid his arm back around to be positioned between them, maneuvering her own arm through it. Her hand wrapped around his bicep, and he tugged her close to his side more easily this way, without having to grab his friend by the waist.

It’s alright, most of them are more interested in me than you. He smirked slightly as he responded aloud as well, the slight change in expression clearly just meant for her. Besides, there’s only two or three I actually have to introduce you to. They’re gossipy enough to do the rest for us.

Azure had been about to say something back about the crowds or the incessant gossip, but instead she paused in her seemingly endless spinning thoughts to give his arm just a slight squeeze.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, out loud but mostly to herself, “Oh my God, you work out.”

He blinked and turned to look at her, mildly baffled. At least the nerves had abruptly disappeared. “...You’ve SEEN me shirtless,” he said, quietly enough that only she would hear it.

“I don’t see jack shit that ain’t numbers ‘n wires when you’re in that chair, so sorry to break it to ya dear.” She squeezed again, smirking. “God damn. Impressive.”

“Get it together,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes slightly, but he sounded more amused, or vaguely pleased, than annoyed. He smiled politely at a passing couple and switched over to the comm. Don’t you have a boyfriend?

He’s bi and he’s got eyes, he’d say it too if he was here. She thought of Turq, waiting back on the ship for her to return and tell him all the terrible ways she’d been bored out of her skull. For just a moment, she smiled to herself, and then she caught sight of the sheer height of the ceiling and the number of bodies beneath it and clung ever so slightly more steadfast to her lighthouse in this heavily perfumed storm.

She swallowed the thick feeling in her throat and shook out some small sparks from her hands behind her back, joining in the small talk in small starts and quiet stutters. She was initially going to try and hide the accent, fearing it would make her sound less educated than she was, but that went out the window when she realized the sheer amount of talking these people did. Besides, the number of races, species, and languages floating around the room made it pretty easy to blend in. It seemed to be mostly terrans, but not without plenty of notable exceptions. She found herself mentally repeating names and trying to tie them to faces so she wouldn’t forget for later, really only succeeded in projecting her mnemonic devices to Trinity on accident. “Jerry the Gerbil-faced Gent” wasn’t something she was proud of, but he heard it anyway.

I’ll tell you if it’s one you really should remember, he managed to send, with a clear feeling of suppressed laughter, but he does look like a gerbil, right? The few guests Trinity engaged with for longer than it took to exchange pleasantries were, he explained, donors or investors, gossips they were relying on to get her ‘gala name’ around, or even one or two people he told her were Decent, or at least interesting to talk to.

In Azzy’s head, Camilla Garza was a pleasant-but-opinionated woman who knew how to walk in heels and didn’t need Trinity but liked having him around. But, as he identified the people who’d be doing the heavy lifting of making her known, she found the character rapidly shifting, then nearly fading away under the weight of having to be seen so much all at once. She found herself being more uncomfortable being someone else than she thought she’d be, still nervous to say the wrong thing but with an added layer of a falsified history to remember. Her mind wandered to making fun shapes within circuitry boards, like dogs or clouds as she fought her oncoming shutdown. She had thought the shell of someone else would give her the courage to do some talking, but really it made her more nervous she would make too big a misstep and she withdrew in response. So, she settled on being as much herself as she could manage while feeling like she was wearing someone else’s skin in the form of lace and chiffon. It couldn’t stop her wandering mind, but it kept her closer, at least. Trinity seemed more at ease when she said something quintessentially Azzy in any case, and was quick to cover for her if she needed it.

The first part of the evening, mingling before the food was served, went by faster than she’d expected, although she did have to suffer through a few seemingly endless discussions of money and business. Her mind wandered to the pleasant drape of fabric along the hip of some woman in red, then to her most recent inventions, only returning when Trinity asked for some small tidbit of info on cybernetics he didn’t understand or remember. He assured her she didn’t have to stay glued to his side if she didn’t want to, and pointed out the punch table and some younger guests who’d be safe enough, and more interesting to talk to. It would be easy enough to find each other again or call for backup with the comm link, separating a little wouldn’t harm them any.

Really, she’d have done anything to avoid the 50 year olds and their incessant need to talk about colonies and funds and stocks whether he offered her an out or not. She was pretty sure most of these windbags were some type of war criminal, too. His offer pulled her out of a reverie made entirely of the form and function of cartilage and whether something inorganic could replace it. She nodded to her not-date and made her way to the huge table of refreshments. Wonder if they’ve got e-z cheez and some club crackers, she joked into the comm as she approached the table, making small talk with some other attendees she thought looked like they might also be a little in over their heads.

I’d say rich folks prefer difficult cheese, and maybe country club crackers, came the response through an undercurrent from his out-loud conversation, something only identifiable as “taxes” personified.

She laughed at his joke and one that had been told to her over the snack table at the same time, and she was sure he could hear her even halfway across the room. That was one thing she hadn’t quite been able to practice away: her laugh sounded like something always on the verge of becoming a snort, no matter how hard she tried to keep it at a giggle. Slightly embarrassed, she looked around the room to see if it was worth being self conscious or if she could get away with it this once. She chanced a look up into the balcony, and her heart leapt higher into her throat.

A figure cloaked in black with something very suspiciously gun-shaped in its arms stood atop the balcony and hidden in the shadows, aiming. Breathing. Time stood still. Every sound except the beating of her heart went silent. She excused herself blankly, confused but jumping into action without thinking. Her eyes drew lines from the barrel to the floor, leading her directly to Trinity. A whole platoon of guards outside and someone had snuck in an entire sniper rifle. She began weaving her way back to him with a small plate of food and a glass of champagne. Her eyes tracked the balcony figure the whole time. They didn’t see her. She felt each footstep like an earthquake. Her head the whole time calculated angles and forces and possibilities, the distance between her and Trinity, between Trinity and the balcony, the speed of a bullet and the likelihood she might be too late. By the time she reached Trinity’s side with the plate, she knew she’d been spotted. The figure on the balcony twitched, minutely. Her brother’s voice rang out in her head: “Look for the hesitation. For most of us, there’s just a little.”

Now. That twitch was the hesitation. Her hands sparked a little, and somewhere in Trinity’s peripheral vision, something glittered. Somewhere in front of him and off to that same side, the air was suddenly warm. Azzy pushed a glass into his hand, bent down to adjust her shoe strap, and proceeded to slink away so she could have an anxiety attack in peace. Thought you looked hungry.

He acknowledged her briefly, but otherwise seemed occupied with his conversation. He hadn’t noticed a thing. Her relief that he was unbothered was unparalleled, but not very long lasting. She looked at the bullet in her hand, stopped in its tracks by a cybernetic field. Testing hadn’t proven it to work while fully invisible all the time. She’d gotten lucky, that ability could have caused a stir, and that was the absolute last thing she wanted.

The figure who had fired was no longer on the balcony. She returned to her conversation partners, mind a little more than slightly preoccupied, but it wasn’t like it mattered much. She’d just stopped a bullet, she was torn between relief her friend was okay, joy her hard work had worked in a field test, and horror that she’d just had to stop a bullet at a fancy dinner. Let them brand her as a little shy. It wasn’t like it was untrue, anyway. Her fingers worried at the crystal stem of her glass while someone asked her name for the fifth time. The figure never returned to her sight. She worried nonetheless, cutting transmission to Trinity’s communicator every minute or two so that her brain couldn’t give her away. He didn’t like these things, there was no sense making them worse for him with scary things like assassination attempts.

She was snapped out of her dark mood a little while later by a terran man who’s toupee was about three incredibly distracting inches off center. Surely, Trinity had something in place to keep himself alive at these things. A vest, at least, maybe someone casing the joint for him. She could relax, definitely. She had to relax, or he’d know and she wasn’t certain what she’d do if he asked. It wasn’t like they were super close, they mostly just fucked around and made jokes when they weren’t working. It occurred to her that she might have ended up taking that bullet for him, if the field hadn’t worked. Best to maybe play it cool. Topsy-turvy toupee at your four o’clock. Don’t look too quickly, he’ll notice. She tried her best to sound mirthful, normal.

Azure, that’s the CEO of Lighthouse Industries, a very important name in manufacturing circles! Have some damn respect. His mental voice was mock-offended. Call him MR. Topsy-turvy toupee.

Of course, of course, my bad. She sent back from her new spot against the wall, glass of wine in hand as she watched the party continue. Mr. Topsy-Turvy Toupee has a delightful taste in married women. His head was treated to the image of a shapely ass in a blue dress. She sent an apology immediately after, but she wasn’t sure he could hear it through his own silent mental laughter. Across the room, she watched him twitch slightly, as if covering a cough, but she knew. A grin split her face as she watched him try not to laugh. Keep it together Jericho, or they’ll find out you’re having fun.

Don’t you know? Rich people aren’t allowed to act like they have emotions. It ruins the illusion of the million-credit stick up each and every ass.

This time, she actually snorted. She turned her laugh into a cough as well, though not as successfully, and then someone somewhere rang a bell. Dinner, said Trinity in her head.

Come ‘n git it, she drawled in his, moving near him to walk to wherever the food was. Think I’ll be able to eat as much as I need to discreetly or am I limited to one serving like everyone else? She was kidding, of course. She had eaten a full meal before this to account for any surprise need to use her cybernetics. And she was glad she had, but it was still good to account for deficit. Because using them the way she had this evening had definitely caused a deficit, however minor.

Well… he hedged, sounding slightly regretful, there’s some bullshit about eating like a bird, and the portions won’t be huge anyway. But at least there’s a million courses. I’ll make sure no one judges you for eating everything.

A small wave of gratitude reached him just as she did, her hand sliding up his arm to rest in the crook of his elbow. Eatin’ like a bird’s bullshit anyway, these motherfuckers ever met a seagull? Ravenous bastards.

He chuckled aloud, quietly enough that only she could hear it, but it gave his face a genuine smile that could be seen by anyone who’d care to look. He pulled her in close and ushered her over to the table, pulling out her chair for her. She looked confused for a moment, glancing up at him through her lashes with her brows knit together before remembering that this was something people did sometimes. When they, y’know, cared. And were polite. And weren’t exclusively sitting on mess hall benches when they ate meals with you. She didn’t try to mask the blush on her cheeks. It’d help sell the bit, anyway, if she looked embarrassed. She muttered a “Thank you” and sat.

True to his word, he set a precedent for her to be able to finish her food at dinner and even get more, by requesting a second helping from the kitchen. Azure nodded her head in thanks and let him know she really owed him one before tucking into the food as quickly as she thought was acceptable in her present company. There were a few whispers and confused glances, but after a moment some started to follow suit, many of the young women looking actually relieved that they didn’t have to be the one to breach unspoken tradition just to be able to eat until they’re full. Dinner otherwise went off without any huge mishaps (Azzy wasn’t perfect at eating fancy dinners but with a poker face like hers, it didn’t really matter), although there must have been something odd with the comm links. There was a brief feeling of darkness in the back of Azzy’s mind for a moment after the extra food had been brought out, but a glance at Trinity revealed nothing but a genuine smile as he chatted with her and the other guests seated near them. He even snagged a bite of food off her plate at one point, to the amusement of the couples around them. He smiled at her as he chewed, a mischievous glint in his eye replacing any darkness she might have thought was there before. She bumped her shoulder into his, protective of her food and also in an attempt to gauge if anything was still off. A shake of her head was all it took to dispel the odd feeling of foreboding, and she tried to focus on how to answer a few of the more personal questions posed to her.

Quick, remind me how we met?, She pleaded, feigning interest in a conversation to her right that was rapidly approaching pulling her in. And if you make a joke about your eye, I swear to God I’ll drink the fingerbowl.

There was a brief moment before he replied, but his mental voice sounded perfectly normal. Well shit, there goes half my repertoire. But I suppose I can control myself, since the eye’s a secret anyway. Out loud, he seamlessly joined her conversation, leaning over to put an arm around her with a fond smile, and began telling the story they’d decided on to the gaggle of socialites on her opposite side. She smiled up at him, leaning into his arm, even chancing a little peck on his temple. Nothing big, a brush of the lips against his face, small stuff. She wondered how people could do this all the time, the physical interaction and the talking and the being so on her feet all the time. She was so nervous, watching his face with concern displayed as placid adoration. She kept her worry that maybe that was overdoing it to herself. However, the mental request to stop never came, and in fact Trinity seemed to allow himself to relax a little closer to her when she made the first move.

She filed the fact that this was evidently the new ceiling for their comfort with one another away and tried to ignore the heat of his body on her back. Conversations swirled around her, some going over her head and others offending her with how little the speakers actually seemed to know about the topic at hand. There were so many people. There were so many eyes. How do you stay here through all this noise? She asked, initially intending it to be the beginning of a joke but deciding a genuine question was due every once in a while. My head hurts from the 47 different topics. And what’s a mutual fund? This dude just offered me his and I’m not certain if it's an innuendo or not.

I know. I learned to deal with it young. Plus, you have to learn when to put yourself above a conversation, tell them with a look that they don’t deserve your attention right now. Before she could unpack that sentiment, there was another soft bell, and he stood. Perfect timing. There’s just dancing now, and then you never have to come to one of these again.

She was almost saddened by the idea of not doing this again, until she looked around and saw just how big this hall was once again. The place was packed, and now she had to move around in it. Her shoulders tensed a fraction, fingertips sparking slightly before she shook it out. Unbidden, the memory of the bullet currently settled in her pocket rattled through her brain and she had some second thoughts, mind racing and looking around once more for dark figures on balconies. Spotting none, she allowed herself to be led to the dancefloor while she regulated her breathing. Shoulders still tense, she looked up at him again. I gotta warn ya, Crim said this was harder in heels, and I wasn’t great in boots.

It’s alright, I’ll lead. We can start slow. He paused, hands hovering near her, not quite touching her despite the fact that he’d had a hand on her waist without a problem for most of the night. ...May I?

Sure thing, Hotshot. She fixed him with another crooked little grin, this one much shyer than some of the ones previous. She tried not to look at their feet. Well, her feet. He smiled and put his arms firmly around her, steadying her as the music began to play. He might have been holding her a little closer than normal, but once they began to move it was clear why- this close, his feet were the only ones she could really step on, and he could hold her up if she started to wobble on her heels.

She glanced down more often than she probably was supposed to, and she was definitely unsteady on her feet more often than her steps could be classified as sure. He looked down at her and saw her tongue poking out a little at the corner of her mouth, gears turning behind her eyes. The comm she had forgotten to cut off notified him of the various patterns she was trying to trace in her head-- the beat of the music and her heart and the movement of her feet and the other couples, over here was a mental map of the entire building, and from the sound of her thoughts she couldn’t seem to figure out what orientation was up. She was overthinking it, and really badly too.

“Az.” He spoke out loud, quietly enough that only she could hear him using that name instead of Camilla. “Tell me something about cybernetics. Or memes, or something.”

She startled, her eyes locking with his as she froze. A question died on her lips, and she took a deep breath before she began speaking again. “The current core tenets of cybernetics and cyber-biotics research make the assumption that a person with a brain is a person piloted by electrical impulses-”

Was the beginning of Cybernetics 101 really the thing he had wanted to hear? Probably not. But, as she rambled on, the intensity behind her eyes softened, and she could be led around the dancefloor to the sounds of her own musings about whether electrons could really be made solid, or if they already were solid. He nodded along, and occasionally added a chuckle to make the act more effective, as if she was telling some entertaining story rather than reciting the first chapter of a textbook. Eventually she broke away from reciting basics and asked him a real question. Her eyes never left his face as she asked his preference with a grin: “Platinum or steel plating on auxiliary processor casings, and why’s it obviously steel?”

“Well besides the expense, there’s durability to worry about,” he shot back. “Platinum’s good for about two minutes, so you can say the word ‘platinum’ in your elevator pitch and sound fancy.” It was easy to fall into their typical banter, now that the music and the movement of couples around them left them space to talk normally without worrying about keeping up appearances for the other guests. She laughed at his jokes while telling a few of her own, steadier on her feet and seeming like maybe she’d somehow gotten used to being here. She’d even forgotten the risque height of the slit in her dress. His hands were warm, and she didn’t really mind as long as she didn’t focus on it too hard. It crossed her mind that maybe she and Turq should dance sometime. It was nice, just to be in someone else’s orbit.

Time seemed to slip by once they got the hang of gliding around the floor together, and by the time the orchestra was playing its last song, Trinity was more comfortable holding her than he’d been all night. He found himself already feeling her absence the next time he went to an event like this- he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually had fun at one of these. The thought almost surprised him. He had enjoyed it, despite everything, even despite what had happened at dinner, and he smiled down at her as he escorted her out to the waiting car as the night drew to a close. He opened the door for her once more, and once in the safety of the car with its tinted windows, they could both finally fully relax.

Stretching out as far as she could, Azure slouched back in her seat while trying to mind where her skirt fell. Her shoulders sagged and she realized just how much tension she’d been holding in them. Absently, her hand went to the small bump in her pocket and she frowned, fishing the offending object out. She cleared her throat, willing it to open enough to let her speak. Her mouth felt so dry.

“How much personal security do you usually have at these things, Trinity?”

“What?” He half turned to face her with a shrug. His hair was starting to come undone from its neat braid, falling over his forehead and cheek in soft waves, and he looked more relaxed than he had all night. “Well, there’s guards and security at most of them. I don’t usually bring my own detail, they tend to get in the way. But I’ve gotten fairly good at taking care of myself. ...Why do you ask?”

“You might want to look into bringin’ one or two personal guards, at least to conduct an initial sweep or somethin’, since the ones they already have failed so badly.” She fidgeted at the idea of trying to make suggestions on things she didn’t know about. Whether she liked it or not, she’d found a soft spot for Trinity over the course of their short friendship and especially this strange event. She thought she mostly saw him as the guy she sent stupid jokes to because he had a legacy piece of tech from her mother, but circumstances like this often don’t leave much room for analysis until much later. She pressed on. “You could’ve died.”

His easy smile dropped, and he fixed her with an odd look. “You noticed that?”

She held her hand out, the bullet shining in her palm as she shook slightly. “I stopped the bullet myself.”

His eyes widened a fraction, before he could school his expression back to its resting state. His voice softened slightly, like he was trying to calm her. “Right, of course. You stopped it, of course you noticed.” He was clearly hiding something, but trying to keep her from worrying about it. She’d never be able to explain how she knew, she just did. Her dark eyes bored into his as she took the communicator out of her neck. Might as well let him know she’s not relying on the communicator to tell if he’s lying, present him an unspoken dare to tell the truth anyway.

“Trinity, what’d I miss?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, pushing the loose strands back out of his eyes. “There was poison. Just in my food, one of the extra dishes they brought out, and I filtered it out just fine. It’s nothing to worry about. I even checked yours— it looks like they were only targeting me, and without much luck.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt. “I was wearing a bulletproof vest, too. I’m used to this. Anyone in my position would have to be. I wouldn’t have a life if I dragged guards everywhere that someone might try to kill me. Hell, I’d have to take them to the bathroom.” His voice was incredibly calm and casual for someone talking about multiple, apparently regularly occurring, attempts on his life. She didn’t know she could want to shake someone so violently. He was technically right, there wasn’t much opportunity to do anything if you had people guarding you constantly. That didn’t mean she liked what that meant. She dropped the bullet into his lap, treating it carelessly for how much it clearly bothered her. She was no longer shaking, but something pulled at her heart, made her lungs feel strangled. She wasn’t angry, it was something else. She’d done it again. The stupid ship, it was making her even softer than she already was. She couldn’t leave this alone. It’d never sit right with her. Her teeth ground together as she compared her options. Her jaw tightened, a stubborn look giving her rounded face a harder edge.

“Let me come with again.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. She might regret the hell out of this. “It wasn’t so bad, and you can’t cover your face in kevlar. My brother could have made that shot with his eyes closed.”

He tilted his head at her, confused, and more than a little unsettled by the comment about her brother. Vigilante, fashion designer… sharpshooter? “I… are you sure? Of course you could come if you wanted, but this really only needed to be a one time thing. I’ve survived 22 years without you, I’ll be fine.”

“It’ll make me feel better.” Behind her eyes was a raw emotion he’d never seen before. She probably wasn’t aware it was there either, she did a piss poor job of hiding it. She really was a truly terrible liar. “And anyway, how’s it going to look to have a girlfriend one time and then not again? They’ll all talk and then it’ll be back to square one for you, and then we went through that whole thing for fuck all in payoff. Please, just...just one more time, at least. We had some fun, right? It might even be worth it, and it wasn’t so bad for me to be planetside for a night.”

He smiled at her, shaking his head slightly to concede defeat. “Ok, I yield. It was definitely better with you there. If you’re sure you want to, I’ll ask you next time an event comes up. Fair enough?”

She nodded curtly, the tight feeling in her chest subsiding with each subsequent breath. “Fine by me. Gets me off the ship.” A crooked, shaky smile.

“Sure. It was… nice to have you there, anyhow. Makes it more bearable when you have someone to make fun of the whole thing with.” He returned the smile, much calmer than hers, and reached out to give her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Maybe it’ll be better next time, who knows?” His tone didn’t seem to hold out much hope for that.

She laughed, a little, but this one didn’t sound like it was even close to becoming a snort. “I’ve got to go, Crim’s got my dropship ready for me.”

The car started up, heading for the drop off point, where Trinity watched her walk back into her small ship the same way she’d exited earlier that evening, the sway of her hips a little more genuine and steady. A recurring date. This one was going to be a little harder to explain to his sister.

7. A Modicum Of Restraint

Azure glanced at her messaging screen. It had been a bit since she’d told Trinity she’d be more than happy to be his fake-date for another event or two. Mostly, she was worried about him and the apparently frequent attempts on his life. But, some small part of her, locked away with childhood toys and dreams of being a member of alien royalty, had a good time. Who would have thought? Maybe the thing she’d hated about fancy dinners as a kid had been the people and not the dinner itself.

[Azure] hey, am i tagging along for the next event, or did you decide to spring for those juice pouches instead?

Her own message glared at her. She wondered if maybe she should have just waited for him to text her. Maybe he didn’t have as much fun as you did. He said you only had to do this once, why are you asking for a second crack at it? You’ve said yourself you hate fancy parties.

She groaned and cursed herself for being so...herself. It wouldn’t be that hard to be a little more open about how worried she was, and besides, he had already told her the same night that he’d bring her again. But it had been some time and he had behaved just as usual, as though she hadn’t been there when he could have died. Twice. I’m going because he could have been seriously hurt if I hadn’t been there last time. I saw that fucking angle, there was no way he was coming out of it fine, I just need to go one more time to check. Somewhere in the back of her mind, an unfamiliar concern tried to rear its ugly head, but she ignored it in favor of stubbornly pressing the bullet issue instead.

Finally, while she stared tight-lipped at the screen, those little dots appeared.

[Hotshot] Right- if you still want to come I have your plus one paperwork all set. Is your brother making us match again?

Relief bubbled through her, a release of tension that started in her gut and ended in her jaw finally unclenching.

[Azure] I think it’s his favorite way to coordinate two pieces. What’s your favorite color? We’ll do that one.

[Hotshot] I don’t really have a favorite color? Guess I’ve never thought about it.

[Azure] ah, you’re too rich to see colors like us common folk, I see how it is hotshot.

[Hotshot] More like I wore shades of black and grey for a long enough time as a teen that I never picked one. What’s yours?

[Azure] What if I said I wanted to talk more about your emo phase instead? And not the reason I picked my name.

[Hotshot] So it just happened to be blue and you got lucky with the theme you all have going on?

[Azure] It happened to specifically be that shade of blue, and Crimson got really unlucky. Don’t change the subject, tell me about your Dark And Troubled Past.

[Hotshot] It’s just blue. There’s not that big of a difference between them.

After a moment there was a second message.

[Hotshot] And I will not be doing that. Suffice to say I had an eyepatch anyway so I figured I might as well lean into the look.

[Azure] I’d have gone for more of a pirate thing, really just go nuts.

Her bubble stayed for a few more moments.

[Azure] I’m sorry for asking, though. I forget that people off this gloomy piece of metal have tragic pasts they don’t want to talk about too.

She was being dramatic, but the apology was real.

[Hotshot] You don’t need to apologize, all you did was ask about my teen goth phase. A pirate phase would’ve definitely been more interesting. Anyway, do I have to pick a favorite color now so your brother can start working his magic?

He might have been deflecting a little, lightening the mood, but she wasn’t going to call him on it this time.

[Azure] It’s either you pick a favorite, or you have to get used to that boring champagne color in varying levels of opacity and form. If it was up to Crim I’d wear that dress and those heels every time I walked out anywhere more important than a grocery store.

[Hotshot] God forbid.

She could practically taste the sarcasm. This was a man whose version of casual was a button down and slacks, after all.

[Hotshot] Fine, I guess maybe some sort of blue or green? Let’s go with green since I guess you’ve got blue covered.

[Azure] Green. That’s a fun challenge, I think that technically clashes with my hair. He’ll love it.

She stretched a little as she typed up her next message, happy to finally have something to plan for.

[Azure] I’ll have it sent to you this time so that you won’t have to change in the car.

[Hotshot] I’ll look forward to it. And this time I’ll make sure you’ve got all the food rules memorized. We don’t need a repeat of the caviar incident.

[Azure] Listen, the bowl came with a spoon. I used the spoon on the contents of the bowl. What do you want from me.

[Hotshot] A modicum of restraint, perhaps?

[Azure] Trinity Jericho, you can’t ask me to rewire my whole brain like that. We’ve only just met.

[Hotshot] You rewire your brain every other day and message me about it. I have a picture of your nervous system from a week ago. It’s probably completely different by now. I don’t know where I’m going with this, but I’m right.

[Azure] Incredibly rude of you. I have a doctorate. I needed that caviar for tongue science.

[Hotshot] Well I hope you’re happy with your scientific discovery that straight caviar is a crime against humanity and taste buds. Did you solve universal climate change with that data?

[Azure] No, but I did learn that your pointy fancy shoes really hurt when they connect squarely with my shin under the table. And that with an unwavering poker face, you can get at least three others to try anything. :)

[Hotshot] You’re lucky I like having you around. I can’t believe I agreed to this. I’m creating a monster.

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @charlottedotexe @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #wip: babylon #chapter update #babylon #trinity

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geeky-introvert · 5 years

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Rise . Harald X OC

Summary: Escaping from her abusive husband with her children Aurella never expected to end up with the Heathens, even more to catch the eyes from the King of Norway….One-shot.

Authors note: I managed to write this in a day after being sick all week. Feeling much better today, very grateful. Hope you all enjoy!

Word count: 2633

Warning: Mentions of abuse and smut.

Tag list: @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @rekdreams247 @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising @happydaysandersen @therealcalicali @naaladareia @inforapound @captstefanbrandt @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish @igetcarriedawaywithyou @laketaj24 @darlingp @tephi101 @youbloodymadgenius @lordsexmachine @wonderlandofsu @alwaysbenhardysgirl @sparklemichele @hecohansen31 @readsalot73 @narry28

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

Ending up with the Heathens wasn’t what Aurella had in mind, but it was a far better life still then being married to that violent husband of hers. Yes, ending up as a slave, working in the hall for the king of Norway sounded not like the best thing but it honestly was, even more for her children.

For years she put up with her husband's ways and it only grew worse. She should’ve left him a long time ago but stayed because it was the only home they had. Then when he tried to take out his anger on the kids that’s when she acted and slammed a wooden plank over his head, giving her enough time to flee with her kids.

It was just fate, that’s what she was calling it, that the Heathens were nearby, planning to attack her village. Bumping into them was enough shock, but even more when her husband suddenly came out, charging behind them and then dropping dead, killed by a single arrow.

All she could do was shield her children as one of them approached her, later learning his name was Harald, king of all of Norway. Right there she promised to serve him, only to keep her children safe and after thinking about it for a moment he agreed.

Keeping his word he made sure her children and herself had their own cabin in his settlement right near the hall. All he asked was for her to serve him and she did. Her son, Durwin, was the eldest and old enough to help take care of his little sister, Linette.

It was a change for them, a better life she called it. Least she didn’t need to worry about her drunk and abusive husband anymore and give her children a chance in another culture. It meant forgetting about their god and embracing the Heathens gods, which was strange but at this point in life she didn’t care honestly.

The only good thing that life gave her was two beautiful children.

Serving King Harald was something she was willing to do and he was much kinder than most of anyone else in her life towards her. It may sound strange but it was true. When while doing her chores she would see her children surrounding him.

At first she thought they might’ve been bothering him but quickly discovered he asked for them to be there, to tell them stories and listening to their own, learning about each other. She noticed that her children were comfortable with him and that made her relax.

After settling her children for sleep she then came into his room where she drew him a warm bath and waited for him. She grew used to this lifestyle quickly, and it was a better life than what she used to have. How sad was that, better to be a slave then married to her drunk and abusive husband.

“Aurella?” Hearing Her name she suddenly stood up and turned to see Harald in the room.

“King Harald, forgive me I didn’t hear you come on.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, my dear.” He always called her that and it always made her cheeks flush red feeling shy about it always. “I don’t think you heard me, I said your children are very smart and beautiful, I enjoy their company.”

“Oh, yes, sorry-” She cleared her throat a little. “Just thinking.”

“Anything interesting?” He asked as he stepped forward and started to remove his clothes for the bath. It wasn’t the first time, but she felt her cheeks become warm whenever she saw his toned chest and tattoos, much better compared to the drunk pig belly from her husband.

“No, my lord.” She answered as he slipped into the basin and she poured some salt into the water for him to soak in.

“Hmm.” Harald hummed gently in return as he watched her fondly, giving a small smile. “You’re an interesting woman, Aurella, yet I hardly know anything about you.”

“Forgive me, my lord, but you haven’t really asked me anything.” She smiled gently as he smirked back in return. He really enjoyed her company.

“Please, Aurella, call my Harald, I’ve told you that already.”

“Forgive me, my-” Stopping herself she blushed a little. “Harald.”

“Now, tell me a little about yourself.”

Aurella started small, telling of the simple and poor life she had with her parents on their little farm. She was an only child since her mother died at a young age and her father fell ill as she got older. That’s when a man came to her, offering his hand in marriage and feeling desperate she agreed. At first she thought they could learn to love each other, but it was just a sad life being married to him. He grew fatter, lazier and soon became abusive. For too long she put up with it before finally making a run for it, and that’s when she said they found them and killed him just in time.

“He can no longer hurt you or your children ever again.” He told her as he listened carefully.

“Yeah, because you saved us from that life, from him.” Grabbing a rag she then started to help clean his arms, her eyes lingering too long over his tattoos.

“He wasn’t a man, but a fool, someone who got what they deserved for ever hurting you. I see a beautiful and smart woman willing to protect those they love. The moment I saw you I knew there was something special, and I suddenly had to...know you.”

“Know me? What do you mean?” She asked as she glanced up into his eyes. His kind words were heard and she wasn’t even sure how to answer him for that.

Harald moved his hand and touched her face, caressing her cheek and moved away again giving her a weak smile. “I find you beautiful, and I wish for you to be aware that I feel this pull towards you. I would like something more, and I don’t wish to scare you away.”

His confession didn’t surprise her honestly. There was a part of her that suspected this, but didn’t want to think too much about it. Yes, he was a very handsome man, but she didn’t know what to say or do about it.

“Any princess would be lucky to have you as their husband. I’m just a simple woman, I come from nothing.” It was true, not that she was denying him, just speaking truthful words.

“I come from nothing, my dear. That’s the life I was born into, a simple farmer. But I wanted so much more and I grew myself in power, became an earl, then I fell in love with a princess. I offered my hand in marriage to her but she refused, saying I wasn’t worthy yet, that I had to become a king to win her hand in marriage. So, I killed kings to become one, gained more power, more lands, and when I was ready I found out she married another man, an earl, it broke my heart. There was another woman, my enemies lover and she agreed to marry me. She...was beautiful, strong, and died in battle along with our unborn child. As time passed I slowly healed and found my gaze on another woman, but she chose to marry Bjorn Ironside instead. I’ve never had the best of luck with women, and I hope that even just once, I can feel that...tender feeling, love.”

She listened to him as he spoke. How could a man like him get hurt or lose someone, she didn’t understand this. Yes, she’s heard of Bjorn Ironside, son of Ragnar but that was it.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, Harald. I...I feel silly for saying this but…. I do feel something for you. For so long I put up with my husband, took all his anger to protect my children, and when he went to hurt them I attacked him and finally took off, and you know the rest. For once I would like to feel love as well, to know what it’s like, at least once.”

“Not just once.” He was suddenly closer then, brushing his nose against her own making her breath hitch. “I want it to last forever.” His lips were suddenly on her own in a tender kiss.

The kiss caught her by surprise but she didn’t pull away, in fact she slowly leaned into it, accepting the kiss from him. Her reaction pleased Harald and he deepened it more.

Suddenly he pulled her into the basin with her, making her gasp softly from the sudden wetness and the fact she was still wearing a dress but he didn’t seem to care before kissing her again. His hands roamed over her, pulling her closer against him more while she returned the kiss back before letting out a surprised gasp against his lips feeling his hardness.

Not that she was against the idea, but she hasn’t really ever had a pleasent experiance with sex before. But it felt different now, finally a moment for her to enjoy with another.

“Aurella. I wish to have you, but only if you’ll have me.”

Never had she been even asked. “Yes, you may.” She wanted this just like him.

He pulled down the front of her dress then, exposing her breasts and massaged one as he kissed the other making her moan in pleasure softly. The reaction he gave her was so unexpected, but it all felt so real, and she craved for that.

Her head tilted back as his warm lips and beard tickled up her neck then, showering her in a bliss and love as she pressed herself closer against him.

His throbbing cock positioned against her before she suddenly was filled by him, letting out a loud moan as his thickness stretched her depths beyond like before.

“Am I hurting you?” His words were so kind, tender.

“No, you’re just very big.” She admitted shyly making him chuckle softly.

“All for you, my dear.”

He started to move her hips against him, slowly, allowing her to adjust and feel him twitch inside of her as she clenched a little, sighing in pleasure with her hands gripping onto his shoulders. Sex never felt so good before, this wasn’t what she ever imagined it to be like.

“Harald….this feels good.” She whispered as she moved her hips.

“It gets better.” And it did, so much. His cock hit the right places inside her, rubbing against her walls as she rocked a little more firmer against him, rubbing herself and building up both their pleasures.

Harald buried his face against her neck and shoulders, holding her close and savouring every second of this blissful moment with her. It had been so long since he’s felt like this and he didn’t want to lose that feeling ever again.

After a time their movements became more firmer, slopping, both closer to reaching their ends together. Neither stopped and just let it happen.

“Harald...I-I’m...I’m close!” She warned him but he only gave a breathy smile.

“Let yourself go, my dear.”

And she did, letting out a cry of pleasure, not caring who heard as she milked him and he suddenly followed closely behind, spilling his seed deep within her depths and riding out their orgasms together.

Aurella rested her head down against his shoulder as she panted heavily, tired and dazed.

“I want to take you to bed, to hold you in my arms all night.” He whispered between kisses.

“I would be happy to join you.” She answered back.

She was so dazed that the last she could remember was being carried in his arms and laid in his bed before falling asleep against his chest, savouring the warmth from him.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When Aurella woke up the next morning she was naked in bed, alone, but comfortable and warm still. Holding the furs against her chest she sat up and wondered where Harald went off to. He was king, so of course he had duties to follow.

Suddenly the doors open making her gasp softly only to see another thrall coming in, looking up at her and bowing lightly.

“Forgive me, my lady. I didn’t mean to startle you. King Harald has asked me to help you get ready before eating this morning.” She then proceeded to get a dress for her

She didn’t understand what she meant but was left speechless. Silently she got out of bed, still holding the furs before the thrall helped her, something she’s never had done before.

“I-I can dress myself…” She told her in the nicest way possible.

“King Harald insisted I help, forgive me, I do not wish to disappoint him.

Once dressed and hair braided she looked at herself in the mirror and was amazed how she looked. The dress was way too beautiful, only fit for a queen, and yet she was wearing it.

Coming out she saw Harald standing about looking like he was waiting for her, and when he looked up he held a large bright smile, opening his arms.

“So beautiful, my dear. Kissed by Freyer herself.”

His words made her blush a little before she asked him.

“What’s going on? I mean, I’m just a little confused.”

“I see, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there this morning, I just had to prepare things. First off, you’re no longer a slave, you’re a free woman to do as you please, as well as your children.”

This caught her by surprise. “I...I don’t know what to say.”

His hands came up to caress both her cheeks. “I want you and your children to be happy, and I stop you from doing what you want. However, now comes another question. I would like to marry you, for you to become my wife and queen. Your children shall be raised as if they were my own and I swear it on my arm ring that I’ll never bring harm to them, or you, my dear. I won’t force you to decide though, it’s up to you.”

She was left speechless and didn’t know how to respond to him. Her whole life she had been trapped and now she has the chance to be free, but either with or without Harald.

“Mother!” She heard her children come running into the hall, clean and new clothes, fit for a princess and prince. They looked so happy and proud.

“Look mother! I’m a princess!” Linette gave a spin with a beaming giggle.

“I’ve never had such nice clothes. Thank you, King Harald.” Durwin said.

“Durwin, you may call me Harald, no need to be formal.” He said rubbing his head.

Aurella stared at her children with a soft smile. They looked so happy, not because of the clothes, but just being here. Harald was the only man to ever treat them with kindness, as he was the only one to treat her the same way. Looking back at him she then suddenly stepped closer and gave a soft kiss to him, hearing her children gasp as they saw this.

Moving away her eyes glittered as she caressed his cheek gently.

“Thank you, Harald, for everything. I will marry you.”

Harald gave a light happy chuckle, embracing her as the children looked at one another, surprised by the news but happy about their mother’s choice.

“You won’t regret this, I promise.”

She had a good feeling she won’t regret this either. Being here had made her the happiest in all her life. A new change and a new life, it’s all they needed.

#vikings #harald x oc #harald x reader #harald imagine #harald fairhair #abuse #smut #soft king #fandom #fanfiction

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

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Survey #292

“dear god, let’s make this fucking clear: dear god, there’s nothing that i fear”

What internet browser do you use? Chrome. What brand water do you drink? (Smart Water, Dasani, etc) Mom just grabs the Great Value jugs. Do you have a job? No. Are you full-time or part-time? N/A Are you watching TV right now? No. Or are you listening to music? Yeah, "Mr. Crowley" by Ozzy. Such a great song. Would you go to jail for 3 years for $1,000,000? No. I would NOT survive in jail. When's your birthday? February 5th. I cannot fucking believe I'm almost 25. Thoughts on kids? Too impressionable for me. Even with my niece and nephew, I feel like every single word I say just like... stamps into their brains, and what if I say something that negatively affects them? I feel like it's my responsibility as an aunt to be a fountain of wisdom when I'm definitely not. I just get nervous around kids. Worst punishment you've ever received by your parents? I wouldn't call it a "punishment," but when I skinned the everliving fuck out of my knees and Mom was patching me up while I was just sobbing away, my dad literally roared "SHUT UP!" from my parents' bedroom, and it's stuck with me forever. Honestly, I think it may be a root in my extreme fear of men yelling. Worst punishment from Mom, probably this time where she smacked the shit outta my arm as a kid and left a clear handprint for a while. Are you the type who is completely against abortion? Why? No, I am firmly pro-choice, despite being pro-life most of my life. I don't feel like writing a moral essay, but basically, I absolutely cannot agree with forcing a woman to carry a human they don't want for whatever reason for nine fucking months, endure one of the most traumatically painful things known to man, and then properly and adequately care for that child. That is such a huge fucking responsibility that should be forced upon *nobody*. "But adoption!" Yeah, go tell that to the thousands of children waiting on you. This is leaning on exactly what I said I wouldn't do, so moving along. Have you ever read a book that actually changed your outlook on life? "I’ve read some books that were phenomenal, but I wouldn’t necessarily go so far as to say that they 'changed my outlook on life'." <<<< This was Johnny Got His Gun for me. Does your favorite flower hold any meaning to you? No. What would you do if your favorite animal became endangered? I would fucking freak. Have you ever owned an expensive eyeshadow palette? No, but I honestly do want at least one, primarily with a deep black and then some nice grays and neutral colors. Do you own a tripod for your camera? Yes. Are your nails always painted? Quite the opposite. What's one thing you've had a toxic reaction to? A breakup. Which holiday is your favorite to decorate for? I honestly don't really decorate because I just don't have the motivation, but Halloween is the best. Were you popular in school? Nope. Are there any foods that often give you heartburn or indigestion? BANANAS, dark sodas (like Coke or Dr. Pepper), peanut butter can... It's hard for me to tell much now because I have chronic heartburn and am medicated for it. Works great, so I don't experience this much. Is there something you intend to buy in the near future? Yes. Once my tattoo is done (I'm setting the appointment the next time we leave the house, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH), what I have left is going towards Venus' new terrarium. She really needs a 40 gallon. Is anyone in your family artistically talented? What about musically? I was the art kid, and family still insist I should be an artist. What cute behaviors or characteristics does/do your pet(s) have? Omg, Roman has so many. He nuzzles me all the time, will collapse into my hand to pet him, he insists on being the little spoon at bedtime (no, really), he literally tries to groom me with his teeth, licks my face... He is just a doll. My little buddy for sure. Now onto Venus. She loves to chill next to me in bed or find a cozy place under the covers, and omgggg does she love to slither around the bed doing the periscope thing. So curious. What's the screensaver on your computer? I don't have one. What’s the sexiest thing about a guy? I am WEAK for nice shoulderblades/muscular shoulders ok. What’s the sexiest thing about a girl? I am an ass bitch and I will not hesitate to admit it ayyyyyeeeee. Who were you with at midnight on January 1, 2021? Nobody. Who was the last person to send you a message on social media? My sister Misty. She's planning to surprise Mom (her stepmom, anyway) by showing up in a few weeks with her fiance and all her kids she's never met but desperately wants to. My mom is the only "real mom" she's ever had, and she just feels so bad that she has a by now teenage daughter (among three other younger ones) that has never met her "grandmother." It's just an expensive and long trip, but Misty's finally called it enough and is just driving down here with everyone. Mom is going to fucking sob. ^ What qualities does this person have, that you appreciate? Nice timing for this, since her fiercely anti-mask bullshit is all I can focus on about her lately... but there are good things about her. She truly is a very loving, passionate woman that, just like me, feels deeply and expresses it. What was the last thing that caused you to scowl, or frown? Does grimacing count from a sudden bodily pain? Have you smiled at any point during the last hour? Yeah. I'm watching the VOD of Arin Hanson playing Kingdom Hearts 2 for charity, and he went on a total fucking laughing fit. His laugh is so precious, so I just couldn't stop grinning. What was the last thing you consulted Google for? Ensuring "grimace" was the right word for my former expression, even though I was pretty positive it was correct... I don't know if anyone's noticed, but my English skills are degrading, particularly in spelling. It's concerning me. I was an English whiz my whole life up to now. My only guess is it's related to how godawful my memory is also declining. So, did anyone send you a "Happy New Year" message when midnight hit? No. When was the last time you were on a carousel? Probably not since I was a teenager being goofy with Jason or somebody. What is the closest you have ever been to an elephant? I have a picture on my dA of a beautiful elephant walking RIGHT by its fence at the zoo. It was pretty amazing, considering just how incredibly immense their enclosure is. Have you ever played Halo? No, it's not my kinda game. Have you ever read a National Geographic magazine? Oh, I'm positive I've read sections while in waiting rooms of various places. When was the last time you had a pillow fight? I have no idea. Realistically it was probably w/ Jason since that sounds like some cute playfighting thing we'd do, but I don't remember a particular instance. Name somebody who you think deserves more respect: "Retail works. The horror stories my mom has on the daily is absolutely ridiculous. People can be so incredibly rude." <<<< I absolutely agree with this; what friends and strangers alike rant about is just depressing. Nobody, especially those working through a goddamn pandemic that's killing thousands, deserves the disrespect that comes their way. Have some goddamn decency and know half the issues you bring up to retail workers isn't even their damn fault. Ohhhh, I could rant about this. In your own words, define what the word sexy means. So you mean like, what I think is considered sexy, not just the general definition? If that's the case, uhhh. Self-confidence (but absolutely not arrogance) is very attractive to me as a bitch who lacks it entirely, as well as good manners, being outgoing, and just... charm. I don't quite know how to describe that "charm" other than I'm really drawn to people who are unique and happy with it and just seem to have an aura about them that feels good to be in. What is the most popular tourist attraction where you live? I'm going to look at this question as if you're asking about my state and not general location because 1.) there ain't shit here and 2.) I'd prefer to keep relatively where I live quiet on the Internet. Looked it up and apparently NC's biggest tourist bait is the Biltmore Estate. Never been there myself, but it'd be pretty dope. Without looking - do you know what brand your underwear is? I'm in my own home and pjs, who the fuck wears underwear with that criteria lmao. Are you any good at volleyball? NOOOOOOOOO. I went to a volleyball camp thing once when I was younger and that shit hurts the hell outta your hands. I didn't stay long. Have you ever had a water balloon fight? Why of course. Do you think some babies are ugly? Quite honestly, probably most, especially newborns. Don’t you miss Chuck E. Cheese? I do; going there was one of the most exciting possible things to me as a kiddo. Do you think Fall Out Boy is gonna be a classic band, like Queen or AC/DC? Possibly. I mean they sure are pretty successful and well-known. Do you love stuff-crusted pizza? Eh, it's not my preference, but I'll eat it. Do you apply lotion after you bathe? No, but I really should, given how dry my skin is. What’s your favorite color? Pastel pink. Who did you have your most amazing kiss with? I'd like to not think about this. Has a YouTube video of yours ever gotten over 10,000 views? Lol definitely not. I think at least one on my older channel hit 1k somehow???? It was a birthday gift I made for someone. Would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone? lol I already have one there. At some point I'm getting it covered, though. Do you like Robert Frost poems? I do! Do you go to church every Sunday? I never do. Have you ever been in a relationship on-and-off for more than a year? No, I don't play that game. You want me or you don't, so I'm not wasting my time on your uncertainty or just our lack of stability for whatever reason. If you had to get famous for one of the following, which would you choose: music, acting, writing, modeling? Absolutely writing. What do you think of girls with huge boobs that don’t wear bras in public? ?????????????????? i don't?????????????? care???????????????? they're not my tits??????????????? What is the last thing you tried on in a store? I don't know. I avoid trying shit on like the plague. And then it ends up being too big/small. I wonder why. Is sleeping naked more comfortable than in clothes? I've only ever fallen asleep naked once, and accidentally at that, so I really don't remember how I felt about it? Consciously though, I would feel very, very vulnerable so don't have plans to when I have my own place. Have you ever had a dream in which you were making out, or more, with someone? HAHAHA Y'AAAAAALLLLLLL THIS WAS DEADASS THE ONLY LUCID DREAM I'VE EVER HAD LMAOOOOO Do you feel as though you have a good memory, or are you forgetful at times? Do you feel that your short-term memory or long-term memory is better? My short-term memory is absolutely atrocious, like to the point it seriously affects my ability to get shit done. You can give me something that needs to be done and I will forget in a heartbeat. Now, my long-term memory is astonishing. I can remember many things from my childhood in incredible detail. Have you ever had a concussion or some other sort of brain injury before? Did you need to have surgery for it? I've had a concussion or two. I can't remember which. I didn't need surgery. Do you have any sort of mental illnesses or disorders? What do they involve? Yeah: chronic depression, crippling social anxiety, generalized anxiety, avoidant personality disorder (AvPD), obsessive compulsive disorder, PTSD, bipolar II, and I think that's it. My head's a mess and a half. What’s the longest that your hair has ever been? How about the shortest? When is the last time that you got it cut? About to the small of my back; how it is now, which is pretty much shaved on the left and fades to near my chin on the right. I actually got it cut last month; we've gone to a family friend for years whose shop is just an extra building by her house and very rarely has more than two clients in it. We had masks on, of course. At what age did you start getting gray hairs, if you happen to have any? I don't have any. Somehow, given my stress level at all times, haha. What are some ways that you style your hair? Do you use any sorts of products in it? It's too short to style. I don't use any products in it but obviously shampoo. Who was the last person to truly get on your nerves? What do you think caused you to feel that way? Probably my mom. I think she was in a rotten mood for one reason or another and just being snappy and generally rude. Do you recycle? Is this through choice or do you live somewhere where it’s compulsory? We do; it's by choice, and it'd be immensely ignorant not to where we live considering it literally gets picked up with the other garbage. Do you prefer plain, carbonated, or flavored water? Do you think you drink enough water throughout the day? I've never tried carbonated water, and flavored water rarely works for me due to artificial sweeteners giving me beastly headaches. So I'll just take really cold, filtered water. Have you ever needed to call the police, ambulance, or fire department? I had to call the ambulance for my mom right before her cancer was discovered because she was literally immobile and in ungodly pain. When was the last time you visited the library? What was the purpose of your visit? At my old college, as the newspaper photographer, I took some artsy pics up there. I will probably forever worry that leaving school resulted in the biggest career opportunity slipping through my fingers through that newspaper. Do you see a lot of wild animals where you live? Are any of them dangerous? I guess about the normal amount you'd see in the country. Some dangerous animals live here, sure, that's probably everywhere, but you very rarely see any. Aside from when you were born, have you ever had to stay the night in the hospital? For suicidal thoughts and one attempt, yes. Have you ever experienced a panic attack? Ahhhh, do I know those well. Thankfully, it's been a long time since I had an all-out panic attack. Would you ever want to go into the medical profession? Was your answer different pre-COVID? Nope. Well, besides being a vet, which I haven't wanted to be since I was a kid. Where you live, are people paying attention to whatever restrictions are in place to help control COVID? Many? No. Because it's apparently a fuckin hoax or not as bad as the government wants us to think. Fucking cretins. Do you get a real or artificial Christmas tree? Artificial. Real ones aren't worth the money nor mess. What’s your favourite type/flavor of popcorn? Caramel corn. Do you drink oat milk? No, but I'm interested in at least trying it. The dairy industry is absolutely repulsive if you look into it, and I'd love to do what I can to take as little part in it as possible... even though I am a dairy fiend. I seriously wish I could go vegan, I am just WAY too picky for it. Do you love thrifting? Oh fuck yes. I've been very few times in my life, but I'mm all about it. Do you consider using only lowercase letters your aesthetic? I do find it visually appealing; I like the flow of similar letter height. I never do it for "serious" things, but on places where it's "for the aesthetic," it's likely that's how I'll write something. Do you say “mood?” Way too much lmao. Do you own fairy lights? No, though I would like them if it wouldn't look stupid in my room. Do you own glass straws because the metal ones kind of gross you out because you can’t tell if they are clean or not? ... I didn't know glass straws were a thing. I have a handful of metal ones though, but I always forget I have one in my purse when I go out... Have you made a TikTok? No. Do you own airpods? No. Are you afraid of Mercury in retrograde? I don't believe in a planet's position or whatever having any effect on people. Do you make life choices based on astrology? Definitely not, considering I don't believe in it to begin with. How many pairs of converse shoes do you own? Maybe like, five? Number of jeans in your closet: Zero. What accent do you have? Not really any, but sometimes I sound kinda southern with specific words. Do you have a big butt? Yo I got a Hank Hill ass, so no. Do you count how long you and your gf/bf have been together? In my past relationships, yes, I assigned our anniversary to memory. I don't really... know why, like it doesn't really matter how long you've been together, I just do. Have you graduated? From HS, yes. I dropped out of college three times lmao. Rihanna or Lady GaGa? Ohhh, not sure. Maybe GaGa, but both ladies have songs I love. "Disturbia" doess beat all of her songs, tho. The fuckin BEAT. Do you use fake eyelashes? Never tried 'em. Which was the last book that really captivated you? The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. What makeup brands do you use? I'm not loyal to any, really. I would be if I could afford expensive shit, but yeah, that ain't my life.

#survey #surveys #questions #questionnaire #lyrics: ''battle cry'' by blood on the dance floor

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complicatedandstained · 5 years

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The Other Day at Hot Topic: Do No Harm

It feels a little bit like the role of Vanitas has been recast halfway through their shift.

The guy has started doing his work like a regular human being, going as far as offering to help Roxas finish restocking the piercing display and then not giving him shit about it.

Although, to be fair, this could be because Vanitas was losing patience. Roxas, admittedly, has absolutely and entirely no idea what he is doing. Aqua had assumed Roxas knew a lot more about which metal stabs through which piece of skin than he does.

Actually, Vanitas has taken to not talking to Roxas at all. He has his headphones back on and, if his volume is any indication, is doing his damnedest to broadcast his music throughout the entire store. Roxas has to refrain from singing along when Fall Out Boy comes on.

But either way Roxas slices it, it’s a definite improvement.

And then this super old man comes in, chugging along on a walker with balloons tied to his wrist. Orbiting him is a chattering, hyperactive, wholesomely chubby child, the kind of child you kind of want to hug.

The old man has a scowl etched onto his face like it’s been there a while. He almost immediately begins to grumble about the low lighting and the loud music and the tight spaces between the aisles that make navigation with a walker near impossible.

The child is wearing an extremely yellow Wilderness Explorer uniform, and explore he does—every square inch of the store seemingly all at once. He bumps off of display cases and walls like a human pinball, poking at the cheeks of stuffed animals and brushing his hands through the fabrics.

The old man continues his complaining from the front as he eyes the display cases, muttering about the dark colors and the flimsy material and the skimpy cuts.

Vanitas keeps glancing between the two of them from his station near Anime where he’s restocking the Hello Kitty plush. Roxas imagines he’s examining camera angles, trying to decide who would be easier to take out first. Another glare the old man’s direction, and Roxas decides to step in, before his coworker does.

“Hey there! After anything in particular today?” Roxas asks. He’s halfway through adding new buttons to the magnetic boards of the display case by the register, and he holds out a handful with a smile. “Button?”

The old man looks taken aback. “Thanks, but,” the old man offers a quiet smile in return, tugging at the lapel of a worn suit jacket, where he has a round, pop bottle cap of his own pinned, “I have the only button I need.”

Roxas feels a strange tingling in his chest at the sudden softness in the gruff man’s tone. Someone special must have given it to him. For a split second Roxas pictures Axel, hands splayed, eyes bright, telling him about stained glass windows.

The conversation shatters as a childlike someone shouts, “I found it! I found it!” followed immediately by the sound of several hundred small boxes crashing down, and then a delayed, much quieter, “Uh-oh.”

“Russell…” the old man groans, shutting his eyes.

The old man has stopped near the entrance, as he cannot easily navigate the tight passages between Hot Topic’s displays, so Roxas nods to him. “I’ll make sure he’s alright.”

Roxas power walks through the aisles, until he gets to the wall-length Funko Pop display. Half a shelf is on the floor between Vanitas and the chubby, adorable scout, who has a single box clutched to his chest.

“This is the one!” The child beams and waves the box close enough to Vanitas face that Roxas is concerned the kid will lose a finger. “The Snipe! I found it!”

Roxas freezes as Vanitas’ face twitches. With rigid movements the guy yanks down his headphones, says flatly, “Congratulations.”

Compared to all the potential curse words Roxas feared would leave his mouth, Roxas considers this reply basically praiseworthy.

Vanitas eyes flit down to the mess again, his arms crossing, and the kid notices.

“I am sorry about the mess,” Russell says, his bright voice painstakingly articulate, like maybe English isn’t his first language. Russell frowns, his dark eyebrows dipping low, troubled, dimples appearing in his round cheeks. “I will help you clean it up though!”

Roxas takes a step forward, fully prepared to bodily restrain Vanitas if need be.

“Psh.” Vanitas swats his hand toward the pile dismissively. “I’ve seen worse.”

Roxas is ready to give Vanitas a promotion at this point.

“Why don’t you go show Gramps your weird-as—weird-butt...bird thing.”

“Okay!” Russell nods purposefully and then frowns, laughs. “Mr. Fredrickson is not my Grandpa though.” Vanitas’ face scrunches in mild confusion. “Oh?”

“Mr. Fredrickson is my best friend.”

This is perhaps the single sweetest and saddest thing Roxas has ever heard.

With another radiant smile missing a couple key teeth, the child hugs his find to his chest once more and toddles off to the front of the store, chattering to the box, “I think I’ll call you ‘Kevin.’”

And for just a second, before Vanitas slips his headphones back on, with a slightly miffed shake of his head, Roxas thinks he sees Vanitas smile.

Vanitas’ headphones have been off for a half hour now. Once Roxas had checked out Russell and Mr. Fredrickson, the Hot Topic workers set to doing serious damage control on the Pop Funkos. This entailed extensive sorting by platform, movie, and sale price, and some minor bickering about characters belong where, which made it abundantly clear that Roxas is the bigger nerd of the two and that Vanitas knows a weird amount about Star Wars.

“God.” Vanitas passes Roxas the last couple obscure collectibles and whines, “Ordinarily, I’d just shove them all back on the shelf, and be done with it. Fucking kid. Fucking Axel. Fucking…” He leans forward to fix the one box threatening to fall back over.

Roxas had thought Vanitas wanted to get fired, and now suddenly he’s vying for employee of the month. He shakes his head, sliding a hand in his pocket and looking out across the empty store. “I don’t get you.”

Vanitas lifts an angry-looking Hello Kitty penguin plush from the ground beside him and stares into its eyes like he sees some wisdom there. “You think I should just shut up and do my job, right?”

For a second Roxas wonders what the chances are that Vanitas hadn’t heard him and is simply talking to the penguin, but he decides those chances are fairly low. “It’d be easier…” Roxas mutters, fishing a few furry Chococat eye masks out of a cardboard box on the floor to help Vanitas with the display.

“Wrong. You want to know why I wanted to get fired? This ‘job’ is a waste of my fucking time. I should be studying, interning. Literally scratching my eyeballs out would be more productive than this.” He lifts a Hello Kitty plush dressed as a cheeseburger up and shoves it in Roxas’ face like he’s trying to suffocate him and the plushie both.

Roxas rolls his eyes, and pushes Cheeseburger Kitty away. “Yeah, I’m sure the eyeball scratching pay is great…” I’ll ask Xion’s cat and get back to you.

“Ugh.” Vanitas adjusts a stack of Hello Kitty notebooks (regrettably not burger-themed) and accepts a handful of cat head topped gel pens from Roxas to add to the display cup beside it. This done he glowers at Roxas impatiently. “I forgot you don’t know shit. Look. I didn’t work my ass off getting a full ride to med school to wind up slaving away next to a bunch of sexually frustrated, punk wannabes.”

Roxas should be more offended about the last bit, but his brain gets stuck elsewhere. “You’re in med school?” A smile hits him in spite of himself. “Did they not warn you about the Hippocratic Oath?”

Vanitas rams his shoulder into Roxas’ not hard enough to hurt, not light enough to be friendly. “Shut the fuck up.” Roxas considers Vanitas’ situation again, wondering why Vanitas is opening up to him now. “So, if you got a full ride, why work here?”

Vanitas sighs and shifts a few Sanrio nail polish sets over, then checks his own glossy white paint. “How much do you know about Xemnas?” Roxas glances up from his digging through the box. “The sexiest man alive?” Vanitas cringes, his fists balling up. “I fucking hate this place.”

“You…” Roxas hands him a couple more boxes of the polish sets, “disagree?”

“He’s my uncle,” Vanitas says with venom. “He recently collected the family inheritance. He’s only in his thirties, and now he’s rich. Like, the filthy kind.”

“Oh.” Roxas feels an uncomfortable pang his chest. Basically, Vanitas is telling him someone in his family recently died. So, either Vanitas is actually upset about that, or Vanitas didn’t know them that well and is just pissed he got the short end of the stick. But wouldn’t Vanitas’ parents have been next in line? Maybe they’d all been skipped? “I’m sorry.”

Vanitas doesn’t seem to hear him, pushes on, “Dear Uncle Xemnas is supposed to be helping me pay my rent and my bills, but he’s gotten it into his head that I need to learn to ‘be responsible’ and ‘make friends’ and all that elementary school bullshit. So now I’m working this stupid fucking minimum wage job. And if I don’t, I’m on my own.”

Vanitas isn’t even looking at him anymore, he’s gripping the metal shelf of the display so hard his knuckles have gone bloodless. The sleeve of his blazer has slipped down, and Roxas can see tattoos running up from his wrist, red and blue veins, like his skin’s been flipped inside out. Med school, huh? Inheritance, suspension, friends…

Roxas wonders if maybe Vanitas was just in desperate need of someone to dump this to. But why me? And how misanthropic do you have to be for your sexy uncle to blackmail you into having coworkers?

Then again, he did try to punch me in the face.

“I mean…” Roxas considers patting Vanitas on the back with the Hello Kitty in his hand, but stops himself because he doesn’t want either to be ripped to shreds. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Vanitas whirls on him, face contorting. Roxas congratulates himself on the instinct not to give the guy a soothing pat.

“You would say that. It’s fucking ridiculous. So what if I almost got suspended? I didn’t. So what if I don’t have any friends? I don’t need them.” Vanitas has gotten up in Roxas’ space again, the words harsh and direct, straight in his face. Roxas can feel a little spit fly. Roxas takes a long look at him, taking in what he’s heard, and maybe it’s just because Vanitas reminds him so much of a young Sora throwing a temper tantrum, or maybe it’s the two fights they’ve had earlier, but Roxas can’t bring himself to be angry with the guy any more. In fact, he’s starting to pity him a little bit. Roxas stares levelly, offers calmly, “Maybe friends would help.”

Vanitas sneers, seizes Roxas’ shirt in his fists. Roxas lets him.

“Wake up, sunshine. You’re not in elementary school anymore. Friendship isn’t magic. People always let you down. They let you down or they leave. Axel’s going to let you down. It’s better not to get attached.” Vanitas shoves Roxas’ chest and stalks off a few steps, but Roxas, being a black belt, catches himself easily, which seems to piss Vanitas off further when he glances back to see him still standing there.

“You’re right,” Roxas says.

“Huh?”

“Nobody’s perfect.” One of Roxas’ hands leave his pockets, lifts in a shrug. “Sometimes my best friends screw up. Sometimes they screw up a lot.” He almost laughs, thinking of Hayner, how many times he’s had to climb out of bed to pick him up, stumbling drunk. “But so do I.” I mean I dated Seifer, for Pete’s sake. He hadn’t thought anyone would forgive him for that, but, somehow, they had. “And at the end of the day, isn’t it enough that they care about me and that they tried?”

Roxas shifts his other hand out of its pocket, bringing a pack of Pop Rocks with it. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with Axel. Maybe he is going to hurt me, but maybe our friendship is going to be amazing. I’m not going to let maybe stop me from trying. And neither should you.”

“Ugh.” Vanitas runs his fingers down his face like he’s trying to scrub it clean. But when he drops them his tone seems more level, “Forget the advice, you’re a hopeless sap.”

Roxas smiles sadly. “Whatever you say, Vanitas.”

Vanitas eyes him, more wary than annoyed. “You’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”

Roxas shrugs. “Maybe I am. What about Aqua?”

Vanitas stiffens. Roxas feels like he’s just watched his defenses go up, an invisible shield.

Vanitas flexes his hand against the stuffed animal he’s holding a few times. “What about her?” he says at last.

Roxas keeps his words soft, “You guys are friends, aren’t you?”

“She’s not my friend,” Vanitas counters, words quiet but forceful. His nostrils flare, staring at Roxas and then he turns sharply, like he doesn’t want to look at Roxas anymore, and goes back to shoving stuffed animals onto a shelf with unnecessary force. “She’s a hopeless sap like you. That’s why I’m standing here balls deep in Hello Kitty merch. Doing my fucking job. Tell Axel that.”

Roxas has no idea what to make of this. There’s obviously a lot of shit going down with Vanitas that he doesn’t know the first thing about. He decides it’s time to tap out. Defuse this situation before Vanitas makes with the punching again.

Vanitas is still waiting for a reply.

Roxas frowns a bit. “The Hello Kitty thing, or...?”

Vanitas takes a step forward, like a bull stomping its foot before the charge.

Roxas raises his hands in surrender accordingly. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell him you were doing your damn job. Gees.”

There’s a tense moment as Vanitas considers Roxas’ sincerity and then he nods. “Thank you.” He tosses another Cheeseburger Kitty at Roxas’ face. “Now fuck off.”

#kingdom hearts #vanitas #roxas #axel #up #xemnas #akuroku #hello kitty #the other day at hot topic #my writing #tw: language #tw: loss #up pixar

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caffeinatedfantasy · 5 years

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The Seal pt 9: Ballroom Dancing

{ Chris: [bio] Pt [0.5] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] / ?? [Set 8-8] [ AO3 Link ]

The next day had been far more fun and far less trouble. For the most part. The scavenger hunt had gone extremely well.

We'd won. Though part of me suspected that if Lucifer and Diavolo had participated, they would have. But. Homefield advantage. They'd been the judges. Asmo's cheating had helped a little bit. But I'd had far too much fun with the riddles. And it had been a lot of me and Solomon trying to outrun each other to the next clue.

I know at one point I'd let Asmo charm a statue into his path just so I could get to the next piece. Giggling the whole way and telling him I was "using my team's strengths!" Mammon had gotten more upset about that than the others. I think because he'd so badly wanted to be on a team with me for most of it.

Honestly, it was becoming quite funny to me just how often he was trying to spend time with me on this retreat, only to basically be pulled away by someone. He'd pout about it every time. He was too used to spending time with me was what it was. As much as he teased Luke, the truth was that Mammon was the puppy. So I'd made sure to sit next to him for dinner.

A dinner that, despite how delicious it was, I'd barely eaten. It wasn't that I didn't have an appetite or anything. I just... I knew the formal dance was next and my nerves were going wild. Asmodeus had even helped me find something to wear for it. I'd hung it in the closet in our temporary room and when Diavolo announced that the dance would be starting soon, I was getting ready to dash to my room to get changed. Except... Except I didn't need to. With one fell swoop of magic the table was gone, Beel pouting at the lack of food. And we were beckoned. I motioned to leave, but Barbatos merely grabbed my arm to prevent me, a small smile tugging at his lip even as I tried to hurriedly whisper a protest. The Ballroom [which when had that been decorated?] wasn't far from the dining room, but the moment we stepped through the archway, Diavolo lifting up his hands, I felt the magic thrum through the room, washing over everything. Including myself. And I stood there in stunned silence for a moment, taking it all in. I hadn't even realized that my outfit had changed until Barbatos let go of my wrist, rubbing the lace sleeve between his fingers for a moment. "This was a good choice." He whispered to me before he stepped towards Diavolo. The outfit that Asmodeus had helped me pick out was a form fitting snugly corsetted gown made largely of sheer black lace that split open at my hips, which revealed my legs, covered in black lace pants. I'd tried it on and had it custom fit barely in time for this, so I'd known it would look good, but suddenly being in it just... Added something to the whole ordeal. Solomon was giving me a knowing smile. "Surprised?" I nodded and noticed that he too was in formal wear now. "Magic really does come in handy sometimes, huh?" I nodded again. Somewhat dumbly. Because I was beaming at him. I could tell because my cheeks hurt so much. It was amazing. And as I cast my gaze around the room to all the people [demons] who had just shown up, I realized another thing. All of them were in their demon forms now. I'd seen Levi and Beel's and Lucifer's when they'd been angry. I'd somewhat known what to expect based on that. But now all of them... And not in anger, either. I was staring. I knew I was. Probably leering and drooling too. Diavolo was fucking shirtless. And with wings and horns that dear lord gave me so many thoughts I had to look away. But they were all like that. Mammon was in front of me then. [Also shirtless]. With... White markings across his body. And horns. And wings. Oh no. He was talking, What had he said? Something about he could pair up with me for a dance if I didn't have a partner? [Eyes, Chris, eyes. Look at his fucking eyes.] It didn’t help that he wasn’t actually looking at me, but looking away awkwardly. Probably embarrassed to dance with a human or something. [He'd said something like that, right? I was focusing on his horns and resisting touching them.]

My attention was broken when he shooed off Satan and Levi. They didn't have wings, but horns and tails and once again I was glad this wasn't an anime or else I'd have died from blood loss via my nose by now. It was then that Lucifer called me over. Very firm and direct. And I didn't even think about it before I walked towards him. And his gorgeous wings. He must have been a seraphim when he was an angel. But I don't think he'd like me asking about that, so I held it in as he pulled me forward. One hand holding my hand in his. He asked me if I knew how to dance, and I was embarrassed by how quiet my voice sounded. "Ballroom, yes. Though I'm out of practice." He smiled, but nodded back at me, placing his free hand on my back and pulling me forward.

"No problem. I'll lead."

The music began and we moved, my feet falling into the familiar steps of a waltz, letting him lead me as we moved, continuing to smile. A real formal dance, after all. Gods, it was amazing. I almost missed it when he began to speak. His voice in carrying in the way it had before, despite being quiet. I didn't understand why he was explaining why people asked someone to dance, until he made a point of asking me what I was plotting with Asmo, his voice dipping low in anger, and his fingers now digging into my hip. "If I ever sense that you've become a threat to either Diavolo or us... then I will show you absolutely no mercy. Understood?" He was defaulting back to angry threats and his grip on me made me wonder if I'd have bruises. And this whole thing was confusing me. I didn't know where this sudden surge of distrust came from. And the change from being pressed firmly against him, to his scolding, was throwing me off. I frowned up at him. "We're not plotting anything." I insisted.

His disbelief stung. But before I could think of how to explain myself, the song slowed to its end and a voice cut into our conversation. Solomon was there. His smile, as always, knowing. Almost sharp when he looked at Lucifer and asked to cut in. I was still recovering from my shock when he asked me if I was alright. And I frowned at him. He'd come to save me. [Something I didn't need, which I'd told him.] But he'd carried on, holding me as we moved across the floor, his hand resting just above where I'm sure Lucifer had bruised me before moving to the proper position. And he was, like everyone seemed to like to, reminding me I wasn't exactly safe here in Devildom. Even with my pacts. And then his face lit up as if an idea struck him. "Would you like me to lend you my power?" I thought about it for a moment, watching his face, trying to figure out why he was offering that. We'd barely talked outside of that brief intro to pacts [I'd made sure of that] and here he was being far more helpful than he should be. He continued as if reading me. "Let's just say I'm curious to know what would happen if I did. You're a destabilizing element here in this world. I can't say what might happen if I do this, which is exactly what makes it interesting." Was this some trick? Satan had assured me that a tattoo wouldn't have any real power unless power had been put into it [I'd wanted to confirm after Solomon had said the same about the pact's marks], and I know the idiot my ex had paid for hadn't been magic, but if Solomon was putting his magic into me... He didn't know what it would do either. What if it flipped the script? It might do nothing. And it would let me use magic. Oh, of all the things I'd been craving since getting down here... I nodded, smiling a little. My paranoia was not going to squash my excitement. I felt nearly giddy at the idea that maybe I could do something. He smiled back at me, and the slow, warm crawl of it should have tipped me off [It was very like Asmo's], but instead I was caught by surprise when he dipped me slightly, watching silent words form on his lips before he pulled me back up and-- And he kissed me. Pulling my body flush against his, one hand sliding up between my shoulder blades, the other wrapped around my hips. And a heavy wave of magic and lust and power moved through me from that contact. No, not through me, into me. And I clutched at him, a gasp escaping me and I felt his tongue dart in to taste me before he pulled back, my hand in his, that damned smile back on his face. He didn't even give me the chance to ask what that about before he spoke. "... There. I've put a spell on you." Oh he sure did. One that had my whole body burning hot as he still had me against him. I wasn't sure how much of it was from the magic or if it was from the kiss and it made me squirm, especially when I felt his hand dip lower on my back. "As of this moment, you have use of my powers for the next six hours. You should experience what it's like to control a demon and use his powers." "We are on a retreat after all. Why waste this opportunity? So, go... show me what you can do. I'm counting on you to deliver." Speaking of wasting opportunities had me wanting to kiss him again. But another turn had me aware of the rest of the crowd again. Mammon suddenly came cutting in, scowling at Solomon. "Hey hey hey! What do you think you're doing? It looked like you were--" I neither wanted a fight, nor to explain what he had just done. [The magic or the kiss.] And I desperately needed to step away from Solomon to clear my head and figure out how much of... That little burst was his magic and how much was from that kiss. "Mammon, did you want to dance? Lucifer stole me away earlier, but..." He had been, rather awkwardly [as was his norm], trying to ask me for one earlier. He went red at me mentioning it, and it seemed as if that had worked as a good enough distraction, because he muttered out a "W-well, I-I mean..." He paused, laughing in that manner that made me certain that he was about to say no, but I needed to dance with him. I took his hand and stepped away from Solomon, moving back to the dance. [Luckily, Mammon soon took the lead, since I barely knew how to.] And I relaxed into him. He stayed blushing throughout two dances in a row, ducking away from Levi when the first song was ending, insisting on getting in another. I didn't bother arguing, since I'd been too distracted during the first one. And was now remembering that why yes, he was shirtless and the urge to run my nails down his chest hit me like a train and I swear that it shouldn't be that strong. It didn't go away as the night went on and I danced with the others. It was Asmodeus who commented on it [unsurprisingly], holding me against his body and reminding me of earlier when we were in the labyrinth. His head dipped down against my neck and I could feel his breath dance across my skin, making me shiver. "You want me to fuck you right now, don't you?" He purred. I didn't answer, even when his tongue darted out to taste my skin. "Or perhaps it's Solomon you'd like? I saw him kiss you, you know." He nipped at my earlobe and I had to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from moaning. "I know Mammon wants to steal you away and lay you out..." I was grabbing at him tightly at this point. "Maybe it'd just be best if we took turns? We could even do it right here, you legs spread open and--" Simeon saved me. Stealing me for a dance even as my knees started buckling from Asmodeus' suggestions. I didn't know what was going on, but whatever magic Solomon had channeled into me made me far more sensitive to the demons. Especially Asmodeus. And he'd taken advantage of it to tease me. But Simeon was a gentleman. Making no mention of my state, letting me gather myself as we danced. It was the fact that I hadn't been overwhelmed by lust while dancing with Simeon that told me that magic had done something unexpected. Because Simeon was gorgeous. But dancing with him didn't rile me up like it had with the demons. It was normal levels of attraction. That I could deal with. I danced with Luke next, and was, luckily, back to my regular self by the time I danced with Diavolo. [Which. I had to make the joke about dancing under the pale moonlight. But he didn't know the reference. Probably for the best, but he'd laughed regardless and made me promise to watch the movie with him later.] I was already tired by the end of the dance. But I'd said I'd get that picture of Lucifer, so I couldn't go to sleep yet. I changed back into regular clothes and waited for Asmo and Simeon to turn in before sneaking out. "No rest for the wicked."

#the seal obey me fic #obey me #obey me mc #obey me mc chris #obey me asmodeus #obey me solomon #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #there's some mild dirty talk in here #this was the one with the scene I loved #>:3c

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raywritesthings · 5 years

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Wrong Road to the Right Place 20/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, John Diggle, Tommy Merlyn, Helena Bertinelli, Quentin Lance, Moira Queen, Malcolm Merlyn, McKenna Hall, Thea Queen, Walter Steele, Raisa, Lucas Hilton Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Laurel finds herself curious about the marks Oliver showed her that night in his bedroom - and the tattoo on his left shoulder stands out in particular. When she discovers its meaning, she finds herself questioning everything she knows about the man she doesn’t want to admit she still loves. *Can also be read on my AO3 page*

Helena wasn’t sure what to think about the card that appeared on her bedside table one morning. Mandragora’s, 1:30. Lunch on me.

A quick search on her phone showed that Mandragora’s was in fact a restaurant in Hub City, where she’d made her camp the last couple of weeks. It was close enough to Starling should new information about her father surface, but far enough away that she wasn’t recognized. Clearly, however, someone had recognized her.

She wouldn’t know who unless she went to this meeting. So Helena packed a small pistol in her clutch and went to lunch.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes. I was, uh, invited to lunch, only I wasn’t made aware of the name under reservation.”

The woman looked her over. “I’m guessing you’re with the party of four in the back. If you’ll follow me.”

Party of four, was it? She was outnumbered. Interesting.

Yet as Helena was led around a corner to a booth near the back, she couldn’t help a disbelieving laugh.

“You really have to be joking.”

“Helena.” Laurel Lance looked up with a perfectly pleasant smile. Beside her, Oliver was grimacing. “Glad you could make it.”

“Considering the last double date went so well,” Tommy Merlyn added with wry humor. “Have a seat?”

She did so next to him against her better judgment and accepted the wine list. “And here I thought you all wanted nothing to do with me anymore. There must be something you want,” she said, eyeing Oliver over the menu. He wouldn’t be here unless she had something he needed.

“We have a situation back home, Helena. Mob situation.”

“Which mob?”

“Bratva.”

“Then why come to me?” She set the menu down and leaned forward. “Unless this has to do with my father, I’m not interested.”

“The Bratva arranged a hit on a family two nights ago. Mother, father and a little boy,” Laurel told her. “We were able to help them, but if the Bratva has their way then all of them will be killed.”

Her grip tightened on her clutch. “So?”

“So I think this matters to you, Helena,” Oliver said, picking up smoothly from Laurel. God, it was almost sickening how in sync they were. “You got into all this in the first place because you were trying to stop your father. You wanted justice.”

“And now I want vengeance,” she hissed, more because the waitress was approaching than anything. Helena turned to her and said, “I’ll have the house red.”

The waitress left again, and surprisingly it was Tommy who spoke up next. “Look, far be it from me to dissuade someone from hating their own father with every fiber of their being. I understand, really I do. But we’re asking you to think about the end goal here.”

“The end goal?” Helena echoed dubiously.

“What happens after your father? Now that he’s been captured, have the crimes he was known for stopped? No, because the other mobs keep vying for control and they’re all just as bad.” He leaned closer to her, eyes boring into hers, clearly trying to fit all of his words in before the return of their waitress with her wine. “What matters more to you, seeing him dead? Or making sure no one like him gets to hurt innocents again? No one has to lose the person who matters most to them.”

Helena turned away from him and towards the waitress to hide her swallow. She made the mistake of briefly making eye contact with Laurel across from her, who definitely saw it.

It was after they ordered their meals and the waitress left them that she had a moment to ask, “Why do you really need me? I know Oliver. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t desperate.”

Oliver grimaced but didn’t deny the accusation. “There’s another situation that requires our attention. Time-sensitive.”

“What is it?”

He remained silent.

Helena leaned back. “If you’re not willing to be honest with me—”

“This situation affects hundreds of people, Helena. That’s how sensitive it is,” said Laurel. “If we’re not careful, we put all those people at risk.”

She glanced around at them all. None of them were cracking.

“Well then, that’s my price. You don’t share your information with me, I don’t help you.”

There was a tense moment when the friends all looked around at each other. They were communicating without words, and it was hard for even her to follow.

At last, Tommy said, “You’ll have to come back to the Verdant with us. It’s not a lunch conversation.”

“You’ll smuggle me in under cover of darkness?”

“What other way to do it?”

She studied his eyes behind the cheeky grin. There was something decidedly quick about Tommy Merlyn, and she was pretty sure most people missed it. But it seemed he was shedding the devil-may-care playboy facade for good. “Fine. This should at least be interesting.”

She had no idea how right she was.

“Your father’s going to sink this whole side of town so he can replace it for a shopping center?” And she thought her own father was a bastard! He still was, of course, but this took the cake.

“We don’t know what his future plans for the land are and they don’t matter, because we’re not letting them happen,” Laurel told her. “As soon as we find the second device.”

“Which you might not.” Helena shrugged and studied each of them, which now includes Oliver’s bodyguard and partner John Diggle who had joined them in the base. She was pleased to note he was eyeing her just as warily as before. “So why don’t I just take care of him? If none of you will.”

“Look, he’s sick in the head, but let’s not get into the premeditated crimes,” Tommy warned them.

Oliver shook his head. “It’s not a question of wanting. It’s a question of ability. Merlyn is the copycat archer who sought me out at Christmas. He is on a level I can barely match. A crossbow isn’t going to cut it, Helena.”

She hadn’t slacked in her training in the months since they’d parted ways, but even she knew she’d be hard-pressed to beat someone who could best him.

“So the Bratva?” She asked instead.

“Haven’t made their move yet since Rasmus’ hitman was taken in by the police. But I know where they’re located out of. What we want to start off with is monitoring them.”

“Figure out their schedule so we can hit them when the most of them are there,” Helena summarized. She’d played this game before.

“Right. For now, we’re going to focus on the Undertaking,” Oliver said.

“Which starts with me stopping by dear old dad’s to see if I can spy a little and see where he’s planning to put that second device,” Tommy added. Helena smirked. She’d used her own closeness to her father to organize her attacks on his organization often enough to appreciate the tactic.

“You’ll need to be careful,” Laurel cautioned him. “Even if your father is acting nicer than usual, we don’t want to find out what happens if he knows you know his plan. He’s proven willing to kidnap and murder his own friends, and I can’t see him stopping at family.”

Helena thought she saw Tommy swallow heavily, but he rallied and replied, “I’ve been pretty sure my father would kill me on plenty of occasions, Laurel. Consider careful my personal motto.”

Judging by Oliver and Laurel’s shared doubtful look, Helena wondered if Tommy even knew the definition of the word.

“I’ll be speaking to my mother, as well,” Oliver revealed.

“What makes you think she’ll talk this time, Oliver?” Asked Diggle. “Even if you confront her with the files, she might just burn those like she burned the other copy of the list.”

“I won’t be taking the files with me,” was his answer. “You’ll have them. And I’ll tell her that if she doesn’t turn her back on Merlyn now, then those files will be going to Detective Lance and the SCPD.”

Helena’s eyes widened. She knew Oliver let little get in the way of his precious mission, but this felt like a line she’d cross while he’d be trying to stop her.

Clearly she wasn’t the only one who was shocked. Laurel reached for his arm. “Ollie, are you sure? I know you didn’t want her getting in trouble.”

“There’s too many people she’s putting at risk by complying with him. If she forces my hand, I don’t have a choice.” He looked down and swallowed. “And truthfully, I haven’t forgiven her for what she tried to have done to you.”

Laurel bit her lip. “I didn’t want to tear you apart from your family like this.”

“You didn’t. She made the choice.”

Helena knew she had to be missing something here — and something big, judging by the serious expression even Tommy wore — but for once she didn’t feel comfortable interrupting with some remark. She knew the look in Oliver’s eye when he spoke about what his mother had nearly done.

It was the same look she’d worn ever since her father had had Michael killed.

Diggle came forward with two small boxes that he passed out to her and Tommy. “These are comms so we can all get in touch with each other at any time. Do not use anyone’s real names on here, because there’s been enough compromised identities,” Diggle warned.

“Fine. So, Hood, Huntress,” she listed off, pointing to Oliver and then herself. “Who are you three?”

“Black Canary,” Laurel answered promptly.

Helena smirked. “Cute.”

Diggle was frowning in thought. “Spartan.”

Laurel, who had narrowed her eyes at Helena’s remark, immediately brightened back up. She really was a sweet little bird. “Military, right. It fits you.”

There was a pause as they all turned to Tommy. “I don’t really have one,” he admitted.

“You’ll have to come up with something we can use,” Oliver said.

“Well, what’d you all call me before you knew who I was?”

Helena watched in some amusement as Oliver, Laurel and Diggle all glanced around at each other. “Mostly the guy with the questions,” Diggle finally answered.

“So, Question then?” Laurel offered.

“You could be Q,” Helena suggested dryly.

“Hey, I’m not the guy that sits in the basement and makes all the stuff. I have the look, the style, the ladies a lot of the time. That’s Bond,” Tommy protested. “I am at least like Brosnan-level Bond, give me that.”

Helena turned away rather than let him see the smile that was starting to form on her lips. God, he was so strange.

Laurel was taking her phone out of her bag. “I’ve got some missed calls. Dad mostly, from the looks of it. And my landlord.”

“If you need to take that, we should be fine,” Oliver told her.

“Thanks. I’ll try and make it quick.” She pecked her boyfriend on the cheek and then walked up to Helena for some reason. “Helena, I do want to thank you for agreeing to help us.”

“I’m doing this for me.”

Laurel frustratingly looked undeterred. “Still. Thank you.” Then she left the base. Probably thought this made them girlfriends or something. Helena hadn’t had friends, period, in years.

She glanced over at Tommy who had taken his comm out of the box and seemed to be fiddling with it. “So, uh, how does this work?”

She shook her head and went over to help him. It would make her job harder if he didn’t know what he was doing, that was all. The winning smile he gave her was just his choice.

—-

Quentin was having a week, to put it lightly. His focus was being pulled in so many different directions it was making his head spin.

His investigation into the Verdant had been a dud, true, but the Queen family was still full of surprises. Walter Steele’s unexpected return yielded little aside from the Hood’s apparent involvement, and Quentin had a feeling if he tried calling the vigilante to ask about it he wouldn’t get much out of him.

Then there was the break in at Unidac Industries, owned by the Queen family. The Hood’s rival had apparently made a visit to the labs and left a trail of bodies in his wake.

But a janitor at the facility had a different story.

“There was a man that came in, but he didn’t have any arrows. He had some kind of gun that fired knockout darts or something. I locked myself in the supply closet to phone the cops, so I didn’t see what he was after,” the older man told him with a shrug. “By the time the first responders came through, that copycat from the holidays had been there, too.”

So he’d been following up on an earlier break-in, just like he’d followed up on Adam Hunt and some of the others the Hood has started out targeting last year. But why?

“And what did this first guy look like?”

“Didn’t see much. He wore dark clothing, had on a helmet of some kind that covered his whole face.”

The Hood and the Helmet. Just great. What sort of headgear would pop up next?

“And you’re sure you don’t know what he was after?”

“That’s all above my pay grade, Detective.”

Quentin sighed. “Alright, thanks.”

Now he was stuck trying to puzzle through that scant amount of information, and alone since Hilton was busy interrogating the guy that had been picked up outside of Laurel’s clients’ house and Hall had taken it upon herself to drive out to Merlyn Manor in order to follow up her lead about Robert Queen’s curious property investments before he died. There really was just too much going on in this city.

It didn’t seem like Helmet and the copycat archer were in league, but why come to the same place on the same night? And what had been the original goal that was now covered up by a massacre? A cover-up was something. Maybe the copycat had had his eyes on Unidac for something, something Helmet’s break-in would have exposed. But what?

He’d need to make another visit to the Queen Manor for answers. Just great.

Before he could even leave to do that, however, Hilton called out to him. “Quentin, I just got off the phone with the fire department. They got a suspected arson.”

“Alright, well—” He began, trying to think of who to delegate to. Even he was willing to admit he was juggling a lot right now.

“It’s at Laurel’s apartment.”

He froze. “Was she—?”

“No one was home.”

He let out a breath. “We’ll head over.”

Quentin called his daughter twice on the way but received no answer. Where was she?

The fire itself hadn’t been so bad. A flaming rag tied around a rock had been tossed through the window, and the sprinklers had taken care of things for the most part. But someone would have needed to climb up three whole flights to even reach her window. This had been deliberate and motivated. What was his girl getting mixed up in now?

“Could be someone working for Rasmus,” Hilt suggested. “That’s who hired the hit man, according to his statement.”

Jesus, it wasn’t enough for these people to be rich, was it? They just had to keep throwing their weight around! He almost couldn’t blame the Hood for doing what he did behind a mask — but that was going down a dangerous road.

Hurried footsteps and a voice outside alerted him to Laurel’s presence. “Yes, I understand and I’m checking the damage for myself right now. I know, it’s a lot to pay for.” His daughter ducked under the caution tape and entered the living room. “I’ll make time to stop by your office as soon as possible. Thank you.” She hung up and looked around with a sort of hapless chagrin. “Well, there goes my security deposit for sure.”

“You’ve still been staying in that basement at Queen’s place?” Quentin asked straight away. When she nodded, he said, “Good. Don’t give anyone else your address.”

“Is this all the stuff from the hall closet?” Laurel asked, pointing to a pile of smoky-looking linens and a couple boxes with blackened sides. She took off the lid and started going through one.

“We’re looking at Edward Rasmus as the mastermind behind this stunt,” Hilton told her. “He sent a hitman to visit the Moore home last night. He was stopped by a masked man in black, and one other unseen assailant.”

“I heard. And you’re probably right. Rasmus has connections.”

“What kind of connections?” Quentin asked her. “And why do you know about them?”

“I hear things.” Laurel frowned as she continued digging through the box. “I hope it wasn’t damaged — Oh, good,” she said with relief as she lifted an old plush shark toy out. Quentin’s throat closed up for a moment. He hadn’t seen that old thing in years.

But eventually he cleared his throat and said, “Laurel what connections?”

Laurel’s tone was carefully light as she replied, “Mob.”

He knew it. He’d just known it had been way too good to be true that she’d dropped all of that. Everything Merlyn has said about her looking up things about the Triad, their strike at Malcolm Merlyn hitting her instead. Something was going on.

“Can you give us a minute?” He asked his partner. Holt nodded and stepped out of the apartment. “Laurel.”

“I know, dad,” she said with a sigh, finally setting Sara’s old shark down.

“I begged you to get yourself out of this.”

“But I can’t, dad. Rasmus would have sent that man after the Moore family whether I knew about his ties to the Bratva or not.”

“Who’s your guy with the Bratva. We can get him immunity. Witness protection.”

But Laurel was shaking her head. “He doesn’t want that, he wants to stay. He has to stay, dad, or so much worse is going to happen than this little scare tactic.”

Laurel waved her arm around her apartment, but Quentin’s mind was going a mile a minute. The way she talked about him… it couldn’t be. But nothing else made sense.

“The Hood’s ex-Bratva.”

Laurel drew back. “You know I can’t answer that.”

“Can’t or won’t, because those are two very different things.”

She only kept looking at him. Quentin sighed. He’d known for a while now that she was in support of the Hood. It was only a matter of time before she would’ve started working with him, and especially after the vigilante had taken such a keen interest in her cases.

She was flouting the law doing so, but then could he really condemn her when he’d traded — or attempted to trade — information with the man himself? The Hood has caught the Savior when known of them could; he had cleared the path for the officers to make it into Vertigo’s warehouse to arrest the drug dealer; he had even rescued Walter Steele, a man who based on income fit the Hood’s usual target profile. His kills had decreased dramatically. If this was a man trying to turn away from the life of a mobster into something else, was he truly the phantom evil Quentin had hunted for months? Was Laurel wrong time reach out and help to rehabilitate him, when rehabilitation was what a society claimed to do?

He hated having these questions with no simple answers. All his life he had believed in the law and the good it could do — but the law had never wronged him the way it had some.

His cell rang, and Quentin elf up a hand to indicate they weren’t yet done before answering it. “Lance.”

“Detective, it’s Kelton,” the CSU tech said. “I’ve been looking at the ingoing and outgoing communications from Unidac the night of the massacre, and I found something interesting. One of their head scientist’s last known calls shortly after the initial break-in was to a number at Merlyn Global.”

“Merlyn? But Unidac’s a Queen property.”

“It is, but that’s who received that last call.”

Something wasn’t right. First that false wall in Merlyn’s penthouse office, now this call to his company. “Hall’s out his way now. I better meet her up while she’s got his time. Thanks for the tip.”

“Everything okay?” Laurel asked as he hung up.

“Different case. Look, we’re gonna talk about what you meant by ‘so much worse’, alright? Just once everything’s calmed down a little.”

Laurel nodded. “Yeah, dad. That’s fine.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. He hadn’t gotten that easy of an acquiescence from his eldest since she learned the word no. It’s how he’d known she’d make a great lawyer one day.

But one thing at a time. A whole laboratory of scientists was dead and Malcolm Merlyn seemed to know something about it. That had to take priority. When Laurel followed him out of the apartment with only the one box under her arm, however, he gave her a look.

“Most of my stuff was already with Ollie’s. I’m coming back tomorrow to break my lease with the landlord.” She leaned in close to give him a one-armed hug. “Stay safe, okay?”

“I should be telling you that,” he said, his lips pressing to the side of her head for a moment. Then they both pulled away.

Once he had this whole Merlyn situation squared away, he’d be taking a good, hard look at the Bratva. If they thought they could leave a threatening message for his daughter without any sort of repercussions, they had another thing coming.

And his daughter had another thing coming if she thought he was just going to drop all this after.

—-

Despite having Walter back, Moira felt at perhaps her lowest point.

Malcolm was, at the very least, wary of her. It was clear for whatever reason this Hood had some sort of interest in her family; he’d rescued Oliver from the men she’d hired to question him and now he’d returned Walter safely home when all the resources law enforcement had available had been unable to find anything. And, if she thought about it, the Hood had been the one to bring down that dealer who had made the drug Thea had taken before crashing the car on her birthday.

But Malcolm also knew Moira hadn’t asked to be the benefactor of this vigilante, much less had she arranged for her husband’s rescue. Even still, she and her family were under closer scrutiny than ever, and she wondered if perhaps her family could tell.

Walter was acting distant, claiming often that he needed to rest when she entered the room. Thea seemed to be watching everything with a wary gaze. And Oliver — well, she wished she knew what was going on with Oliver, but aside from that brief moment he’d returned home and shown up at the hospital, he was keeping separate from her.

And she knew exactly why.

Moira sat in the sitting room, turning the pages of one of their many photo albums. She used to look upon these photos fondly, even when Oliver had been presumed dead. They had reminded her of simpler, happier times when her son’s life had been full of potential.

At one time, she’d hoped the young woman at his side in the picture would show him how to harness that potential. Now looking down at the smiling couple filled her with a mixture of frustration and shame.

Laurel had clearly went against everything she had asked of her and told Oliver the truth of what happened that night at the award ceremony. She may have told him everything she knew about Malcolm for all Moira knew. And as a result, her son had shut her out of his life so effectively he may as well have never returned from that island.

Moira had hoped for Oliver never to find out, though Laurel’s survival had made that always a possibility. She had assumed if he did find out that he would come to her and beg her to tell him it wasn’t true, anything other than this cold silence. She felt she didn’t know her own son anymore.

And now, with the Undertaking so close, Moira was sure one of two things would happen: either Malcolm would find out about the leak — Laurel, the man who had stolen her computer files, all of it — and act to eliminate it, or his plan would succeed with some of her family aware of her role in it. Either way, she would lose her son for good.

The front door opened, and Moira stilled at the sound of heavier footfalls coming towards the sitting room. She didn’t need to look around to know who stood in the archway. “Mom.”

“Oliver.” Moira closed the album and stood. “To what do I owe the rare pleasure of your company?”

“We need to talk.”

Now? He wanted to talk about this now, after days and nearly weeks? Moira touched the pearls she wore around her neck and turned slightly from him. “Talk about what, sweetheart?”

“About what was so important that Mr. Merlyn has to pull you away from your husband at the hospital.”

“It was a private conversation.”

“A private conversation that is going to affect hundreds of not thousands. Mom, I need to know.” He took two steps toward her, and not for the first time Moira could see what an imposing figure her son cut these days. “Where is he going to put it?”

“Put what?”

“Don’t make this a game. The Markov device, the second one.”

The devices. Lord help her, he knew about the devices. Moira’s hands shook.

“Did Laurel have you hire the man who broke into my office?” She asked, still doing her best to keep her tone carefully light. “She needs to stop telling you these things, getting you involved.” Didn’t she have to see the danger by now?

“I would have figured out on my own.”

“How would you—” But then she stopped. Because it was so obvious.

Oliver was not the innocent boy being led into danger by a woman he cared for. He was the vigilante who had brought Laurel into his world.

Moira sat heavily on the couch. The enormity of everything her son had done since he had returned hit her, and she could hardly grasp at it. He has fought Malcolm’s associate at Christmas. That was what had so badly injured him. He could have been killed, with her none the wiser.

“When I came home from the island, I had one goal,” he told her quietly. “Dad asked me to stop the people that were poisoning this city, and now I know what he truly meant. This Undertaking.”

“Oh, Robert,” she moaned. Why has she been so insistent he do something? If she hadn’t said anything, he wouldn’t have interfered and he’d be with them still. Oliver would have never gone through that terrible time away or be carrying this burden his father had placed on him.

“We can do this together, mom. We can stop Malcolm. But you have to stand up to him.”

“I tried, but Frank said we had to take care of the leak. That’s why I- I let him change the target to Laurel,” she said, her voice quavering badly as her breath came our ragged. “He’ll have Walter killed this time. He’ll kill you, he’ll kill Thea.”

“I can stop him before it comes to that.”

She shook her head. “Even if the SCPD stormed Merlyn Global and had him arrested, his associate—”

“He is his associate, mom. The Dark Archer is him.”

She froze. “Malcolm?”

Oliver nodded. “I’m going after him tonight.”

Moira stood. “You can’t! If this is all true, he nearly killed you—”

“I’ve been training since then, but it doesn’t matter because lives are on the line. And more than just mine or Thea’s,” he snapped. “Those children in the Glades have mothers who would do anything to protect them, too, and just because they don’t have the means we do doesn’t make it our right to let them suffer for our sakes!”

“I never wanted them to—”

“Then tell me where the second device is,” he demanded coldly. There was nothing of her son in him.

“What the hell is going on?”

They both looked at Thea in the archway, staring at them in clear confusion and fright.

“N- nothing, baby,” Moira said. “Your brother and I are in a slight disagreement.”

“Slight? You’re crying.” Her daughter’s gaze shifted to Oliver. “What did you do?”

“Thea…” Oliver hesitated, and Moira let out the slightest breath in relief. He wouldn’t continue this interrogation while his little sister was here. He couldn’t. Then his gaze hardened again and he said, “I have to go make a call.”

“To?” She asked, hardly expecting an answer.

But he stopped in the archway and said, “Mr. Diggle. He’s holding onto some files for me that I need delivered to the SCPD right away.”

Moira’s mouth fell open. “You wouldn’t!”

“What files? What’s going on?” Thea demanded again.

Oliver ignored them both, walking out into the foyer. Moira followed.

“And what if I should go to the police about my discovery of my son’s actions as of late?”

“You won’t. Because you’ve done all this to protect me, and Thea.”

“I’m finding I may have to protect you from yourself,” she argued. He was going to destroy them; everything she and Robert had built to give their children the lives they wanted. He would open them up to attack from any number of enemies, Malcolm most of all.

“I was proven innocent, mom. And I’ve picked up enough from Laurel to know we could just claim you’re using defamation to stop an investigation into the files.” He turned to look back at her fully. “I don’t have to do this. I don’t even want to. But you have to make a choice, mom. Your family, or your security.”

“The security of this family has always been my choice,” she stressed.

“I don’t understand. Will someone just please say what’s going on!” Thea shouted.

“I believe I can.”

Moira’s heart stopped at that voice.

Walter continued down the steps towards them all. “I can at least say there’s a lot your mother hasn’t told any of us, though Oliver seems to have figured it out.” He looked at Oliver. “It was murder, what happened to Robert, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Thea gasped.

“But that’s not what’s important to right now. If we don’t act soon—” He cit himself off, one hand going to his ear. Belatedly, Moira recognized a small earpiece sitting there. “I have to go,” he said, expression grim.

“To where? The police station?”

He didn’t answer either of her questions, and the front door slammed behind him.

“Dad was murdered?” Thea asked, her voice tiny in the otherwise silence.

“Yes,” she finally admitted. There was very little she could do to convince either of them otherwise at this point. “And your brother seems determined to follow him. Raisa!”

Her head maid emerged from the kitchen a few moments later. “Yes, Mrs. Queen?”

“I need the staff to make preparations. We’ll be going on a trip, and I can’t say how long.”

“Wait, who’s we?” Thea said.

“All three of us. If Oliver does as he’s threatened we will all be in danger. I can’t stop him, it seems, but I can keep you safe.”

“Except I haven’t been very safe the last few months at all,” Walter interrupted. He withdrew some papers and handed them to her. “I’m sorry, Moira, but I won’t be staying here or going with you any longer.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she took the divorce papers.

“Raisa, you need only call me a cab, if you would be so kind.”

“Yes, Mr. Steele.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere either,” Thea decided. “I have community service, a boyfriend—”

“None of which mean more than your life,” Moira insisted.

“But it is my life! I’m an adult, you can’t decide stuff like this for me anymore!” Her daughter fled up the stairs.

“I would suggest you listen to Oliver, Moira,” Walter told you. “You’ve lost enough over all these secrets as it is.” Then he, too, returned upstairs, likely to finish his packing.

Neither of them understood. She had made sacrifices already, yes. But she stood to lose everything. Why couldn’t her family see that?

Walter and Oliver we’re lost causes, perhaps. She’d never really gotten her son back from that shipwreck after all. But Thea… Thea was her baby. She had done everything the five years before Oliver had returned for her daughter, and if she could save just one thing, she would.

She would need to speak to her head of security, first.

—-

McKenna took in the sight of the expansive Merlyn Manor as she drove up the gravel drive. She’d never quite made it here in the past; Tommy had always said his house wasn’t the place for a party. It was big enough to hold four, though.

She drove around the circle drive in front of the house o leave plenty of room for anyone else coming through, pulling off to the side slightly. Then she walked up to the front door and knocked.

A maid answered. “Hi, Detective McKenna Hall. I scheduled some time to ask Mr. Merlyn a couple questions about a cold case.”

The maid nodded and showed her through to a sitting room as big as her whole apartment. Mr. Merlyn stood and shook her hand. “Detective Hall.”

“Mr. Merlyn. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me,” McKenna opened with as they each took a seat across from each other.

“I always do my best to make myself available to this city’s public servants,” the businessman said. “Though I’ll admit, I was surprised when you mentioned Robert’s name over the phone. It’s been some time since we lost him, I hardly see how any case involving him could be active.”

“Admittedly, this is less of a case and more of an inquiry. I recently uncovered a disturbing trend regarding property acquisition in the Glades, and I believe he might have known something about it.”

“Disturbing is a strong word, Detective. But I should have asked if you might like something to drink. Some water or coffee?”

He half-rose from the couch, but McKenna shook her head. “No thank you.”

The front door opened and shut, a voice she knew calling out, “Dad? You home?”

“In the sitting room, Tommy,” Mr. Merlyn answered.

Tommy entered a few moments later. “What’s with the police car out front —

McKenna! This is a surprise. What, uh, what are you doing here?” He held up his hands. “It wasn’t me, whatever it was.” His laugh sounded forced and she wondered if he really was worried she was here to rat him out to his dad about something.

“I just had a few questions for your father about a cold case relating to Robert Queen.” Tommy had always been close with the family, McKenna mused. “Mr. Queen wouldn’t have spoken to you about any property purchases, would he?”

“Me? Uh, no.”

“Tommy has only recently discovered an aptitude for business,” Mr. Merlyn added in a way that McKenna thought he believed was kind. “I assure you, my son would know very little about Robert’s expenditures.”

“Yeah, you know, I’ll just swing by tomorrow,” Tommy said to his father. “Don’t want to interrupt whatever this is.” He left as quickly as he’d come, not without looking back at them once with a far more serious expression than was customary for him.

“I’m sorry, Detective. You seem to keep getting interrupted,” Mr. Merlyn remarked once they were alone again.

“It’s fine. But, about the investigation, shortly before his death Mr. Queen made a number of property purchases in the Glades. None were advantageous to his company or his personal finances. They would almost seem to be random, except that he seemed to be grabbing up any and all land that wasn’t already owned by someone else.”

“I see. And this is the disturbing trend you saw?”

“Not exactly,” she told him. “But I think he was trying to prevent it. Did he speak to you about his financial decisions at all? Was there any indication from him in the weeks leading up to his death that something was amiss?”

Merlyn frowned, his eyes closing for a prolonged moment. He finally looked back up at her. “Robert’s death — and Oliver’s disappearance for those five years — was one of the most difficult periods of my life. Second only to the death of my wife. You’ll forgive me, but I don’t remember very much from that time aside from the suddenness with which we lost him.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Detective.”

“It’s understandable. It would have been more helpful to speak to Mr. Frank Chen, but as you know he was killed just a couple weeks ago.”

“Yes. Another regrettable loss.”

McKenna watched him, but his face reflected nothing but quiet sadness. Yet she still couldn’t help that feeling in her gut telling her there was just something off about all of this.

She stood, making to leave through the foyer, but intentionally paused.

“Oh, I nearly forgot to ask, but has Merlyn Global ever done business with a company called Sagittarius?”

It was very slight, but the line of Merlyn’s back straightened, tensed. Interesting. He took his time looking over his shoulder at her. “No, I can’t say that we have. May I ask why that is relevant to your investigation?”

McKenna shrugged. “Sagittarius is the parent company that bought up all the properties Robert Queen purchased in the Glades. Along with nearly all the rest of the property. Their CEO is proving elusive, and the same could be said of all their other employees. I suppose I was wondering if you might have an inside track to whoever makes the decisions over there.”

“It sounds as though you’ve stumbled upon a shell company, Detective Hall.” He stood to his full height, a tactic she was well-used to from tall men. “I’m afraid Merlyn Global doesn’t make it a habit of partnering with those.”

“I wouldn’t think so. Just thought I’d ask while I had your attention. Thank you for your time, Mr. Merlyn.”

She left then, still pondering over what she’d observed from the man. On the one hand, the Humanitarian of the Year; on the other, the rumor she’d picked up thanks to her invite to Tommy’s birthday party that his father had been trying to close the Rebecca Merlyn Health Clinic in the Glades. Even further, the things she’d heard over the years from Tommy about his father. In her youth, she’d dismissed them as any teen or young adult complaining about their parent. Yet now, it seemed to paint a picture of a strict authoritarian, cold and distant. She thought she’d seen glimpses of that during this very interview.

McKenna stopped on the front steps as her phone rang. She checked it, seeing Lance’s name on the caller ID. “Hall.”

“Hey, are you still with Merlyn?”

“Just leaving his home, why?”

“Needed to ask him something about a case.”

A different one? The many mysteries of Malcolm Merlyn. McKenna glanced back over her shoulder.

“He shouldn’t have anything else going on right now. I could always go back and ask for you.”

“No, I’m heading over that way. This case is pretty serious and I want whoever’s approaching him to have all the facts straight about what went down at Unidac the other night.”

“Unidac? I thought the Queens won the bid on that one.”

“They did. That’s what makes this all the stranger. There was a call placed to his company, and I want to know what he knows about it. So just wait in your car, make sure he doesn’t run off.”

“Sure thing.” She hung up. Something happening at Unidac. She hadn’t been made privy to those details yet, but she’d definitely head in with Lance during his questioning of Merlyn to get all the information she could. It would be a stretch to presume the cases were related — Walter Steele had been the one to purchase Unidac Industries, not Robert Queen. Then again, tragedy had momentarily befallen Steele after a property acquisition the same as his predecessor.

McKenna gave herself a little shake to snap out of her thoughts. Loitering on Merlyn’s doorstep would likely only put the man on edge, which they wouldn’t want if they were going to get his cooperation on this new case. If she’d known that was happening, she might have held back on pushing him a little bit. But that was in the past now, and too late for her to change. She started down the steps and across the drive to where she’d parked at a leisurely pace, since she had no plans of leaving just yet. It was strange, used to the city as she was, being out here with all the beauty of a well-kept front garden and all the silence of a tomb.

As she drew up to her car, she noticed a looming figure in the reflection of her side mirror. At the very last second, she ducked and yelled out as an arrow pierced into the mirror, ripping it right off the car.

With another gasp, she rolled under the vehicle, watching as a second arrow embedded itself in the ground where she’d just been. McKenna crawled time the other side to get a better view of her black-clad attacker. The copycat archer from Christmas. What was he doing here?

Nevertheless, this archer was known to kill even more infamously than the Hood was, so McKenna drew her sidearm, using the car as cover. He seemed to know where she was because a third arrow just narrowly sailed over her head.

McKenna returned fire, watching in amazement and mounting horror as the copycat seemed able to dance around her shots with ease. He still had an arrow drawn on his bow, clearly waiting her out until she took a break or needed to reload to fire down on her again. She wouldn’t have any time to call backup at this rate!

A squeal of tires caused her to look round as a car that looked like it belonged in some 70s cop show suddenly spun stop alongside her. The passenger door opened on a man behind the wheel in a suit and mesh mask with a white bib over his head. When he spoke, she recognized the modulated tone.

“Get in, Detective!”

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #black canary #green arrow #my writing

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