#okay this is ending up a bit beefier than i thought

[ghoulliojr]

Meet Ghoullio Junior! I figure if I'm going to be live-blogging my new game+ playthrough it'd be good to a do a little intro for my beloved bun. Get ready for lore

Ghoullio was raised with the name Havi in a village not far from the edge of the forests of Othard, where the trees started to thin. As such, his village and the Viera in it were among the first line of defense when it came to protecting the forests. They took this responsibility very seriously, in their words they defended not just their own people but all living things in the forest from the dangers of the outside world. All boys brought to the village were trained to be soldiers from the time they could hold a spear.

Havi was not a fighter. Not yet. He was a sensitive boy, often caught reading when he was meant to be training, or hiding away crying after (badly) losing a spar. The men of his village thought he was weak and uncommitted, and he came to be shunned by them. He was alone, without anyone to call a friend, until he was in his teens. Until he met Dora.

Theodora was from a village not far from Havi's. She was a year or two older than Havi, and she was an outcast, too. She told Havi that she had tried to leave her village and become a City Viera. But on her own, she was helpless. She was forced to return, bloodied and starving, to her village and beg to be taken back. She doubts they would've agreed, but Dora's healing abilities made her valuable. They took her back, but ever since they've treated her with barely-veiled hatred in every interaction.

Havi and Dora, both desperate for a place to belong, quickly became like brother and sister to each other. Over the years, Havi would go to the edge of the village and hang out with Dora, and eventually they started going out and exploring the forest together. Dora taught Havi some basic healing magic, and Havi taught Dora what he had managed to pick up in martial training. Dora often joked about running away again, but having a *real* go at it this time, since there were two of them now. Havi would laugh, but every time she said it, it felt less like a joke.

[milkywaydrabbles]

Your writing is so good, I love it!! If I may, I'd like to request #16 size difference with Rindou Haitani please. I just love the way you write him ❤️🫶🏾

A/N: Okay so this actually was a little hard for me? Bc Rindou's only 5'8/5'9 and that's not very tall, so I kind of went size difference as in build? With how strong he is I can imagine he's a bit beefier? and the kink really is only on his end, so he's a lil cwazy. Thank you for the request, I hope this is okay and that you like it! Thank you so much for enjoying my work! MWUAH

Size Difference x Haitani Rindou

 Rindou’s never thought much about his height. He’s never been the tallest in the room, he’s never been the shortest either. Conversations about height used to come up when he was in middle school, which were shortly crushed after he showed whoever was trying to run their mouth why his height doesn’t matter, not when he has the strength he does. Now, as an adult and Bonten executive it’s never brought up, there’s no reason to. It’s never been disadvantageous. He never cared. Even after he met you, it never really mattered much. Rindou was still a good foot or so taller than you. 

What he did start to notice around you though, was his sheer overwhelming build. Rindou was strong, naturally, so thick arms and strong shoulders came with the territory. And you were so small, needing Rindou to pick up heavy boxes for you to open jars here and there. He remembers the look in your eyes the one time you asked him to pick up a corner of the couch so you can clean underneath it (he decided to flex more than he needed to just to see you salivate over him.) It started becoming difficult for Rindou to concentrate the more he thought about how delicate you were, how strong he really was around you, until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

After a (particularly irritating--fucking Hanma) meeting with the rest of the execs he came home to the beautiful sight of you casually lounging on the sofa (in his shirt no less). “Hi baby” You chirped, noticing him at the door and bounced over to him for a proper greeting. You didn’t  even get to kiss him before he hoisted you up from your knees and slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. “Rindou!” He heard you gasp over him, and instead of replying he gave a smack on your ass. “Bad day, help me make it better pretty girl?” You knew it wasn’t a real question.

-

“F-fuck, Rin, wait--aah,” it was starting to become harder to breathe, Rindou was so overwhelming around you, strong arms tossing you around on the bed like you weighed nothing. Hands splayed on the back of your thighs, fucking up into you so hard you felt the bed shaking. Rindou saw how his hands engulfed your thighs, how small you looked under him--it was driving him crazy. Wild eyes roamed your body underneath him, folded in half and squirming, looking up until he saw how fucked out you looked: eyes rolling back, brows furrowed, mouth open--drooling. You were a fucking sight. It wasn’t enough for him, so he leaned forward more, pressing your knees to the sides of your chest and covered you with his broad body. You couldn’t help the screams you let out, feeling him so deep in your swollen pussy you swore he was in your throat. “Feel me, beautiful? Feel how deep I am?” Rindou practically growled in your ear, he wondered if you could even process the words he was saying. You nodded, barely, whimpering and crying as he humped into you. “S’deep, Rin--fuck fuck fuck, too much--” You cried as your pussy creamed around him again, his thick cock rubbing against your walls so deliciously it had your head spinning.

“Fuck, pussy’s so good baby” Rindou stayed panting in your ear, only thrusting harder when he felt your delicate hands claw at his back. You could barely get your arms around him in this position, he only furthered his ravenous thoughts of how tiny you really were underneath him--how he could break you in half just like this. In an instant he was off you, your juices spilling onto his thighs as he grabbed hold of your hair and pulled you up, relishing in how easy it is to throw you around. Rindou practically dragged you up with him as he sat up against the headboard, turning you around and immediately shoving his cock back into you as he sat you down on his lap, no time to breathe in between. “G’na fuck you good, pretty.” He mumbled against your skin, kissing your shoulder before his arms looped around your thighs, trailing up and clasping behind your neck--fucking you in a full nelson. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move with how forceful and strong he was. If you could see him, you’d know Rindou was so far gone inside your cunt his pupils were dilated, jaw clenched and sweat dripping from his temples. 

So small, so weak, so defenseless. Those words kept repeating inside his mind, telling him his sweet baby needed him, because she was so fucking defenseless against everyone, easily in harm’s way. “I got you baby, I got you.” He whispered against you, though you were so fucked out of your mind you couldn’t process anything anymore. All you could focus on was his thick cock, pumping in and out, in and out, abusing that gummy part of your walls that has you creaming and squelching, white ring all frothy around his base. “Fuck, g’na cum baby,” He panted like a dog, feet planted on the mattress and forcing you down to meet his thrusts, pumping into you until he couldn’t help himself and shot his load deep inside your walls, warm and sticky liquid keeping you stuffed full. Slowly, he let go of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and you trembled, still calming down from each orgasm he gave you. 

You found enough strength to lift yourself off his softening cock, his cum flowing freely now out of your abused hole. “Sorry, baby--think I overdid it.” He murmured, chuckling to himself as he laid down with you to hold you a bit longer, he’d clean you up later. “S’okay, Rinnie...Just--warn a girl before you throw her into the wrestling ring, jesus christ.” He couldn’t help but belly laugh, forehead against your shoulder as he calmed himself. 

“I’ll keep that in mind for the next round.” 

[the-present-is-a-gift-au]

Chapter 31: In Which Kip Loses a Race

Twig wasn’t necessarily acting off as Kip ordered a meal to split between them at Spinda’s Cafe. She was still herself. She still laughed the same, over-loud way, she still loved the seasoning on that one grilled berry dish and wanted to figure out how Spinda made such a bland, slightly sweet fruit the star of a savory meal, and she still hated juice and always ordered water instead. But there was something underlying all of that. She laughed loudly, and it seemed like a performance— a way to convince him that she was having a good time. She chit-chatted about that one dish and it seemed like she was trying to distract him from the way her tail nervously twitched against the floor. She ordered water and always took a sip when he asked her a question, like she needed to buy herself precious seconds to think of an answer. 

They finished at Spinda’s and started on the walk home. It wasn’t too long of a distance, but it certainly wasn’t to the market and back, so it was starting to get dark by the time they hit Treasure Town. 

They chatted as they went, and Twig seemed more relaxed as they walked holding each other’s hands. Maybe Kip was judging Twig’s nervousness too harshly. It had been three years since he had last set foot in Treasure Town, and Twig always did have a habit of making things up in her head into bigger sources of stress than they needed to be. He should know— he had the same bad habit of overthinking and catastrophizing. 

They really were a perfect match for each other in that way. They both knew how the other’s brain worked— for the most part, at least— and knew how to talk them down from whatever mountain of worries they had worked up for themself. It was a good fit for them to be friends. It made for a wonderfully self-regulating dynamic. 

“You look more like a swampert than a marshtomp,” Twig said, breaking the silence as they walked. 

“It kind of freaked me out, to be honest. I thought I was sick or something. Our medic said it was an evolution that almost doubled over. Can you believe it? I almost became a swampert in one fell swoop! Imagine how tall I’d be…” He trailed off, elbowing Twig playfully. 

She didn’t elbow him back, instead looking crestfallen all of a sudden. 

“Are you okay? Did I say something weird?”

“You’re fine, Kip, I just… I was thinking about how I barely evolved at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m more charmander than charmeleon. Sure, I’m a bit beefier and I’ve got less baby fat, but I still have a charmander’s coloring and everything. I talked to Celebi about it, actually, and she said it’s probably the temporal distortion acting up. She’s not sure I’ll ever evolve again, or if I'll fully evolve if I end up getting another evolution by some miracle.”

“Hey—” Kip put an arm around her shoulders. “You know evolution isn’t that big a deal, right? Lots of pokemon only ever evolve once, or not at all. It’s not an important thing around here. Not unless you want to evolve like Ursaring did. And then you have all the trouble of people mixing you up!” He joked halfheartedly. It killed him, seeing Twig so upset. She didn’t react to the humor, and he worried he overstepped, but he wasn’t sure how to cheer her up.

Twig’s brow creased in frustration before she sighed, relaxing. “Yeah. You’re right. I dunno why I’m treating it like getting good grades in school or whatever. Why cry over it? It’s not a problem worth worrying over.”

“Yeah! Though, um… Definitely get checked out by a professional if you evolve again and it’s another half-evolution. You might have some health problems if you do, and as much as I love Celebi, she’s not exactly certified.” 

A small smile twitched at the corners of Twig’s mouth. “You’d think that she would be, after how long she spent bragging about bringing Grovyle back from the brink of death.”

“It’s a little worrisome how proud of that she is.”

“Seriously. I get that she’s saying she’s good at healing people, but I thought that she would be a bit more tactful about it.” 

“You’re one to talk, Miss I beat up multiple Legends and only died once on a technicality, therefore I am the best fighter ever.”

“Wh— that was a joke! I was joking! I was doing a funny bit! And it wasn’t even that concerning!”

“Grovyle looked like he was going to have an aneurysm. I thought that I was going to have an aneurysm.”

“You guys just can’t handle a good laugh. That’s all.” 

“Or maybe you can’t handle us worrying about you, kidder.” 

Twig fell abruptly silent, eyes wide and mouth still opened in whatever rebuttal she was prepared to launch back, but then snapped her jaws closed, silent.

“… Twig? You good?”

She shook herself, and Kip recognized how she tried to disguise the shift in whatever she was thinking about as a shiver. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m just tired. And cold. It’s freezing out here.”

“Oh! Yeah, we’re having a really late frost this year, apparently. Dugtrio said he could feel it in his toe-claws. Which… is weird. I didn’t know he had claws. Or feet.”

“Yeah, that’s a bit… extremely unsettling. But a late frost? Again? It’s been warm for ages, but we’re getting one final little hurrah of a cold snap! We had one a couple years ago, and it was the worst. I was practically holed up inside for the first few weeks of spring.”

“You need to get tested or something. It’s not often that a water-type handles cold better than a fire-type.” 

“It’s not often that a fire-type didn’t grow up as a fire-type, either.” 

Kip slapped his forehead. “Oh. Duh, of course. I know you were once a human, but sometimes it feels like you were always a charmander before we met. I mean, it might as well have been that way, considering that you don’t remember being human much.”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yep, just chilly. Come on, let’s pick up the pace and get back to the bluff already!”

“Wh—” He froze, shocked when Twig took off in a sprint. He rushed forward to keep up, struggling to match her speed. “Slow down! I’m not as fast as you!”

“Loser has to make dinner!”

“We just ate, you menace!”

Twig let out a cackle, high and proud in its sound, and Kip held onto the hope he was just making up the way she looked so terrifyingly sorrowful when he mentioned her amnesia.

[thepsychewrites]

Ignite Pt. Two | N. Romanoff

I’m glad you’ve come to your senses...

Natasha Romanoff x f!Reader

Summary: Natasha brings you to S.H.I.E.L.Ds helicarrier where you reunite with an old friend and meet a few new faces. Natasha and Fury let you in on the dangers they currently face and what exactly is at stake. 

> Word Count: 3.2K

> Warnings: Like one or two cuss words, nothing else. 

A/N: Okay guys, this part is a bit beefier than the last, but y’all deserve it. Not a lot of Natasha n Reader interactions just yet, but when I write slow-burns... it’s slooowwww babeeyyy. It’ll be worth it in the end, though ;) I apologize for any grammatical errors, I only re-read once lol. Also- yes, I am so incredibly detail oriented that I looked up quantum sciencey shit for this. Love you crazy mfers. Enjoy :)

EDIT: Now in Second Person POV.

Pt. One | Pt. Three

——————————

You watched with watery eyes as the place you had called home for the last few years of your new life was torched, every last bit withering away under the heat that blanketed it.

You were not a happy camper.

“Was making me burn my house down really necessary?” You called as Natasha opened the door to the two-passenger plane, throwing in the last of your bags.

“Unfortunately, yes. You can’t leave any trace behind. It’s just how things go from now on.” She turned back around to face you, the flames from the house throwing an amber hue over you both. “I think it’s good now, you can put it out.”

You let it go for a second longer, letting yourself grow calm in the warmth it provided. You could tell Natasha was growing impatient- evident from the heavy sighs that kept falling from her lips. At last you let your eyes flutter close, focusing just long enough for the flames to simmer down until the orange glow disappeared completely.

Along with your ability to start fires, you’re also capable of putting them out- ones large enough to put an entire fire department to shame. And you can do it almost instantly as long as your concentration doesn’t waver. You’re still not one hundred percent sure how it works, but tests that were ran on you back in the institution concluded that you can suck the oxygen from an area, essentially suffocating the fires you start just by looking at them. 

It’s weird, but you don’t question it. 

It’s not like you can question it, anyway.

“Great. Let’s go now.” Natasha huffed as she climbed in the plane, keeping the door open for you as you slid in behind her. She kept her eyes trained on you while you buckled in and pushed on the headset, her long stare making the hairs on your arm stand straight under your coat. She mumbled something you didn’t catch, pushing down buttons on the main control panel as she got you air-born. With one last fleeting look to the ash below you watched as the plane climbed higher in altitude, the rubble quickly fading from sight.

You got comfortable in the leather seats, assessing her carefully as she continued to control the plane with ease. “So is Fury still caught up in the whole Avengers Initiative thing? Or is that old news?”

She kept her eyes forward as though maybe she didn’t even hear you speak. You thought that was the case until she began to answer you.

“How long has it been since you’ve talked to him?”

More like question you.

You hummed as you thought. “Probably eight weeks or so.”

“It’s part of the reason why I was asked to get you. We have a few others that will be joining us, and I’m sure Fury will be willing to explain it better when we get there. But the Avengers Initiative is still on, and he wants you to be part of it.”

——

The ride to the helicarrier, as Natasha had called it, wasn’t as long as you were expecting. You landed just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, it’s harsh rays flitting in your eyes every so often. The carrier was in the middle of the ocean, which made your stomach churn a bit. You weren’t the biggest fan of open bodies of water.

Guess you should’ve mentioned that earlier.

The two of you exited the plane and made your way onto the top platform. Natasha was walking ahead of you, her chin up and shoulders back, an epitome of confidence. “The rest of them are already here, but I think Nick would like to see you first.”

Of course he would.

You followed her across the platform and down to the inside of the helicarrier. It was much bigger than it seemed from the outside, and after you crossed a few hallways you made it to the front where it opened up into a massive room with long, curved windows facing north. It was lined with computers and machines, each one being poked at by an agent of Fury’s, their eyes locked in concentration. Dozens of voices rang out, calling orders left and right to whoever was listening. Natasha kept walking to the center platform, her steps growing slower as you finally caught sight of the man himself.

“Fury, I think Christmas came early this year.” Natasha nearly sang, getting the attention of the tall, one-eyed man who wore dark leather all over and sported a stubbly beard. His good eye lit up as you approached closer, an impressed smirk on his face.

“And I thought this day would never come, Y/n. How the hell did you do it, Romanoff?” Fury laughed, leaning himself against a buzzing control panel.

“Persuasion is my strong suit, remember?” She teased, standing impossibly close to you. You held a neutral face, hoping you didn’t look too bitchy, but not caring enough if that was the case.

“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, Y/l/n. We are more than happy to have you here.”

You shifted a bit, rolling your weight on the back of your heels. “I’m sure you are. I’d say I’m happy to be here, but I uh- I don’t like to lie, so.”

He chuckled lightly, bowing his head for a moment as he did so. “Oh trust me, I know. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve ended a phone call with you with my ego severely bruised after. It always comes back to me though.” He looked behind himself for a moment. “On second thought, maybe she’ll bring you out of that funk of yours.”

You stepped out to see around him, and it didn’t take you long to realize what he meant when a lanky brunette woman nearly strangled you as she came in for a hug.

“Y/n? Holy shit! I really didn’t think they’d get you here.”

Maria Hill. The one person here you didn’t completely hate.

You had first spoken to Maria seven years ago when you were in the institution, also called The Roth Institute for Destructive and Extraordinary Children- T.R.I.D.E.C, for short. Her and Fury had some sort of secret operation going on and were in cahoots with the directors of T.R.I.D.E.C.

Not exactly, though.

They were intentionally double crossing them, acting as though they were playing into the directors ideas for the children of the institution, when in reality- they were scoping. Not only were they looking for people like you to help free, but they were trying to take down the entirety of T.R.I.D.E.C.

They failed, however, and quite miserably at that. T.R.I.D.E.C was smart in their operations, knowing that all of the kids were put there “willingly” by their parents and guardians with permission. Fury could never gather enough sufficient information to use against them, so the case went dead and they left.

But- not before they spoke to you.

Since you were the golden child of the institute, your name always piqued the interest of any guests, good or bad. You never knew which was which. Maria had you taken to a quiet room where she asked basic questions, much to which you had no real answer.

Before you were taken back to your room, she slipped you a torn piece of construction paper that was folded meticulously into a tiny origami crane. She pressed her finger to her lips, indicating that you were to keep this crane a secret.

You were wonderful at keeping secrets.

Inside the origami crane was a phone number. It was the first one you called after you had escaped.

And it was Maria’s.

She helped you figure out different places you could go and who to get ahold of incase you ran into trouble. Once Fury had realized you were out, all he wanted to do was to get you to turn to S.H.I.E.L.D. You said no. They both understood why you turned it down, and why you hated organizations with intricate acronyms as names. While Fury still called a few times a year in hopes of persuading you, Maria did too.

But only to check on your well-being.

That’s why she’s a little higher on the friend list than Fury.

She squeezed at your sides a bit harder before releasing you, staring at you like some sort of lost puppy.

“Well, things have changed, I guess. You don’t know how glad I am to see you.” You said, noting how her face hadn’t changed a bit in the last seven years.

“See? Somehow, I’m always right.” Fury chuckled, dodging a smack to the shoulder from Maria. “Hey now- don’t scratch the leather.” He pointed, earning a look from the both of you.

“Romanoff- why don’t you show Y/l/n to her room? There’s a few things in there waiting for her.” Fury asked, turning to Natasha.

She stepped back to your side, shooting you an encouraging look. “Of course, follow me.”

——

“Blaze? Really? What kinda alias is that?” You scoffed, holding out the white card for Natasha to read. “I mean the suit is fine and all but… c’mon that name…” She grabbed the card while you looked yourself over in the mirror, stretching your limbs to get more comfortable in the material. 

Fury had a tactile suit made for you, somehow getting your measurements perfect. It was an obsidian black with the material, all of it heat resistant and non-flammable. Tiny round lines of orange ran down throughout the suit, curving over each limb and down your torso. The part that covered your chest was assumedly bulletproof, the hard metal providing support and helping slightly with the nerves. It was surprisingly comfortable as well and had a few pockets and straps down the legs for extra weapons if needed. 

“To be fair, it’s only for the media and public, anyway. We all have an alias, but yours is a little more important. We don’t want your real name to get out, not yet, at least. For your safety.” Natasha said, holding the card down to her side and letting her eyes trail over your image in the mirror. “Put the mask on, see how it fits.” 

She nodded to the last piece of the suit that laid on a plush chair, a matching piece of black metal that would cover your face from your nose to under your chin, keeping your identity a secret. You lifted it up, tracing down the side of it with your fingers. With a quick sigh you put it on, snapping the piece together at the back of your head. Luckily most of your hair covered the sides and back, so it didn’t look weird once it was on. 

“Push down,” Natasha started, grabbing your hand softly and holding it to the bottom right of the mask, “here.” She rested your index finger over a flat button you didn’t even notice was there before. You gave it a press, not hiding your surprise when the mask molded to the exact curve of your jaw, practically melting into the perfect fit. It tightened slightly, but there were tiny holes and a filter right by your mouth, so you weren’t worried about suffocating in there. 

You did another once-over in the mirror, admiring the intricacy of the suit. “You can thank Stark for that mask, he’s the one who made it for you. He has quite the specialty in metalworking.” Natasha said, keeping her eyes on yours through the mirror. You nodded. 

“Stark... that’s uh- Tony, right? Iron Man?” You asked, recalling some of the news channels you’ve seen him on. 

“Mhm.” She confirmed. 

You pressed the button on the mask and took it off, tossing it back on the chair. “He’s here already, yeah? Along with the others you mentioned?” 

She hummed again. “They just got back, actually.” 

You took one last glimpse at your reflection, wondering if this was really the face of some vigilante super-human savior they wanted you to be. You didn’t quite look the part yet, but things like that take time, right? 

Right? 

“I’m ready to meet them now.”

——

You tried your best to stop your hands from shaking as the both of you walked along a dimly lit corridor, but it wasn’t much use. As you neared the end you came to an open set of doors which led back to the main area you were in before. You noticed a large table ahead with a few people gathered around it, chatting amongst themselves. 

Get it together, Y/n.

Instead of walking ahead, Natasha stayed close to your side, the two of you walking in tandem to the center of the room. She cleared her throat before speaking. “How’d it go?” She asked, looking down at one of the men who sat in a chair at the table. 

Steve Rogers. Captain America. 

“We got him. Fury has him locked down in one of the bottom floors- we’re trying to assess how to move forward.” He answered in a flat, serious voice. His gaze landed on you while he adjusted slightly in the chair. “Who’s this?” 

Natasha stole a glance at you. “This is Y/n Y/l/n. Fury’s got her going by Blaze. She’ll be joining us while we figure out what to do with Loki and the scepter.”

You gave a weak, tight-lipped smile, taking a step forward closer to the table. Two other men stood around it, one you had also already known about thanks to the nightly news you kept an eye on.  

Bruce Banner. The Hulk.

The other guy looked quite... otherworldly- his chiseled face and long golden strands of hair making him stand out. That- and the large red cape he sported down his back. 

Bruce was the first to step up, holding out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Dr. Bruce Banner, it’s nice to meet you.” His hand was a lot warmer than you were expecting. 

“Yeah, you too.” 

The man in the cape was next. “Thor, son of Odin. I come from Asgard. Loki is my brother.” He took your hand like Bruce had, although his grip was... firm, to say the least. Had he pressed down any harder you surely would’ve come out of the handshake with a broken finger or two. He also spoke like some mid-century poet. 

You quirked a brow, somewhat by accident, not quite understanding what he had said. “Asgard? Where’s that at?” 

His chest rumbled with a quick laugh. “Oh, just a quick trip through the bi-frost of course.” 

You gave a confused laugh in return, just accepting his answer instead of asking questions. “Right, the bi-frost, of course...” 

“So they’re calling you Blaze, huh? Does that mean...” Steve started, getting your attention off of Thor. 

With a slight nod you confirmed his question. “Yeah, I uh-” You started to answer before Fury waltzed in behind Natasha. 

“She’s a human tiki-torch, Captain, nothing strange about that.” Fury called, leaving Steve to send an apologetic look your way. 

You noticed how Bruce’s head tilted to the side, his mind clearly in deep thought. “Wait, like fire? How does that work?” He asked aloud, clearly not caring if it was insensitive to ask or not.

It wasn’t, you just thought it was funny. 

“Oh, uh- my, my hands.” You answered, tripping over your words from being caught off guard. 

His eyes went wide. “Your hands? Like...” 

You threw a look at Fury for approval. He rolled his eye and gave a single nod.

Bringing your hand up chest-level and turning it over, it lit up, a palm-sized fire burning over your flesh. It flickered and twisted but stayed small. You brought your other hand up beside it, another fire starting in it. You looked up at Bruce.

“Like this.” 

He opened his mouth to ask another question, but words came from behind you instead. 

“Are we making s’mores and singing kumbaya over here? Oh- no that’s just little miss hothead being a show-off.” 

Tony Stark. Iron Man. 

You closed your palms, smothering the fire and flicking away the small trails of smoke it left behind. Bruce was still standing with his mouth wide open, looking at you and Fury incredulously. For a man who could turn into the (not so) jolly green giant when his anger boiled over, he seemed to be highly amused at your ability. 

“Tony Stark, it is so nice to finally meet you.” Tony said, clasping his hand over yours despite the literal fire that was in it mere seconds ago. “How’s that mask working out? S’it fit?” 

“Oh, yeah it fits great, actually. Thanks for making it for me.” You said, gaining some slight whiplash from everything going on. 

“Don’t mention it, kid.” He smiled, giving your shoulder a slight pat before moving for the table. 

Your mind went foggy as Tony began walking around, talking with Bruce and Steve about the Tesseract and the things this Loki guy had planned. Natasha gave you a short debriefing earlier about some of the things Loki was wanting. 

Earth was the main trade off. 

“He’d have to heat the Cube to one hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.” Bruce pointed out, a discussion about some sort of portal going on. 

Coulomb barrier?

“He wouldn’t have to break through the barrier if one of them figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect. Does that scientist Selvig guy have the knowledge to do that?” You countered, wondering if that would even be possible.

All of their heads turned to you in sync, confusion written on all of their faces. 

“Pardon?” Tony called.

You caught a whiff of sarcasm, but continued anyway. “Well, for this... portal. The Coulomb barrier is just an energy barrier, so to overcome it, particles must have sufficient thermal kinetic energy to exceed the Coulomb repulsion. Quantum tunneling, while going against the laws of classical mechanics, can still increase the particles probability of penetrating that barrier. It’s incredibly difficult to stabilize, but if done correctly, in theory... it could work.” 

There was a long pause of silence. 

“Yeah- so we already knew that, but- how... how do you know that?” Tony asked, holding out a finger that was pointed in your direction. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “Dunno. I’m into science, I guess.” 

Or science was one of the core subjects they drilled into your heads at T.R.I.D.E.C. 

There was another pause while you pieced the information together.

“Wait, so Loki wants to open this portal to let his little alien space friends in, all so they can get the Tesseract and he can rule Earth?”

Fury gave a nod. “That seems to be the consensus.” 

Tony took in a long, deep breath, running a hand along his greying facial hair. “You got anywhere important to be, kid? Because if not, I think you’ll be useful in the labs with myself and Dr. Banner.”

As you started to answer a gentle hand landed on the small of your back. “She should probably get some sleep first. It’s been a long day.” 

It was Natasha.

As the words left her mouth you nearly let out a yawn, realizing it had been well over twenty four hours since you last slept. 

“Yeah, she’s right. I probably won’t be as useful without a little shut-eye first. But I���d love to take you up on that offer still, if that’s alright?” You said, gazing up at Tony.

“Of course. Come find us whenever you’re ready, Third Degree.” 

Tags:

@wandanatvoid​ @diaryoflife​

[kingexpl0sionmurder]

Mutual Misunderstandings - Kirishima Eijirou - Smut

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder​​ Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou / F!Reader Rating: 18+ (Contains smut) Words: 5,866 Warnings: Quirkless AU, Aged up characters (they adulty adults!), unprotected vaginal sex, oral (male receiving), very very light choking, reader has a bit of a size kink. AN: Another entry for the BNHAREM collab! This time we’re writing roommates, and I somehow managed to snag Kirishima! I’m super excited for all of the fics coming this time around, so make sure you click on the link below and read some of the other submissions!

This is my first time writing Kirishima and I’m super nervous about it. I’ve always really loved him because he’s just the best boy and he’s so brave and strong and gentle and I just want to cuddle him into oblivion. I also firmly believe he’s going to be a huge tank of a man when he gets older and I’m going with that vision of him here.

Collab Masterlist is HERE My Masterlist is HERE Buy me a KoFi if you’re feeling froggy HERE

------

You stood in your living room, your jaw hanging open, staring at him in shock. Kirishima had a similar look on his face, the two of you pointing at each other like that Spider-Man meme. 

“You mean to tell me you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?” You finally choked out, blinking owlishly at your best friend and roommate. “I thought you liked Mina!”

Kirishima sputtered, shaking his head. “No way! She’s my friend, we’ve known each other since middle school, you know that.” He moved to cross his arms across his broad chest. “And anyway, there’s no way you like me, you have a crush on Bakugou!”

There was no way this was happening right now. “No! I don’t like Bakugou like that! He’s a pain in my fucking ass, and I think about murdering him on a daily basis.” Facepalming, you groaned. “Are we really this stupid?”

How did you end up here?

It started back in your first year of college. 

The parties and the seemingly endless studying had become a comfortable routine for you. So what if you were sleep-deprived and living on cup noodles? You were getting your higher education and ready to tackle the real world head-on in just a few short years.

A pipe dream, but still.

You had your best friend Shinsou by your side and a customer loyalty card at the campus coffee shop and everything was right with the world. You’d even managed to get paired up with Hitoshi’s (sort of) boyfriend for an English project, which was a better outcome than what you could have hoped for, not having to work with some rando on something that would be a large chunk of your grade.

Kaminari had suggested that you work on it at his place with the promise of Doritos, and you agreed. Who were you to turn down snacks? Poor college students needed those cheese dusted carbs to survive. 

The Upsilon Alpha fraternity was one of the best and most popular on campus, and at first, you found it almost laughable that Kaminari was a member. At first glance, he seemed like a total space cadet stoner who didn’t belong in college, much less as a member of such an esteemed frat. However, after getting to know him, you knew that he was most definitely all of those things, but he was also insanely smart when it counted and kept above average grades in his classes (except for math, but with him being a bisexual disaster human, it came with the territory).

You had made some decent progress on your project after about an hour. The outline was done, and you were discussing how you would be presenting it since you had a choice between a written essay or a PowerPoint presentation. 

Without warning, the kitchen door flew open, the doorknob slamming into the wall behind it.

“Well, the quiet was nice while it lasted, huh?” Kaminari blinked, completely unfazed by the commotion, leaning back in his chair and eating a chip.

Your gaze flitted over to the man who was glaring at the two of you from the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets. Blonde hair that looked so much like an explosion was sticking up in every direction on his head, and you felt his red eyes trained on you as he took in the room. “What are you doing, Dunceface?”

Kaminari didn’t answer right away, raising his eyebrow and grinning at the new arrival. “Hey, Kacchan.”

If the bulging vein in the man’s forehead was any indication, Kaminari had said the wrong thing. He opened his mouth, and you assumed it was to threaten your project partner, but he was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder from behind.

“Bakubro, be nice. Kami has company.” 

The man that appeared beyond the angry pomeranian took your breath away. He was...big. Like, his shoulders were so wide you wondered how he was going to fit through the doorway. And he was tall, with spiked red hair making him look even taller, big red eyes and sharp teeth, and the most beautiful smile you’d ever laid eyes on.

Blonde and grumpy grumbled, moving aside to let giant and red into the room, who then turned that megawatt million-dollar smile on you, and you tried your best not to stare at his biceps or the way his shirt clung to his chest.

Was it hot in here all of a sudden?

“Hi! I’m Kirishima, and this ray of sunshine is Bakugou, we’re some of Kaminari’s frat brothers!” He held out his hand for you to shake, and you smiled up at him, taking his giant hand in yours. The size of his fingers sent your brain reeling, and you knew you needed to get yourself under control before you started moaning out loud in front of him. 

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you! Kami and I are just working on an English project.” You explained, grinning back up at him, trying to keep the lust off of your face. You didn’t want to look like some kind of freak.

He took his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, you must be Shinsou’s friend! Kami told us you’d be coming over, I forgot about that.” He turned, watching as Bakugou slunk over to the fridge and opened the door. “Don’t let us bother you, we’re just grabbing some water before we head to the gym.”

Kaminari snorted. “Dude, if you get any beefier we’re going to need to remodel the doors so you can fit through them.”

Kirishima turned as red as his hair, glancing at you, before he grinned at his friend. “If I stop, no one will be able to bench press you and Sero at the same time at the next party.”

“Bro, that is my favorite party trick of yours.” He sat up straighter, looking forlorn at the thought of it not happening anymore. “Okay, fine, go to the gym.”

Bakugou grumbled from behind him something that sounded like “I could bench press four of you if I wanted to.”

“Of course you could, buddy.” Kirishima slung his arm over Bakugou’s shoulder. “Okay, we’re out of here. It was nice to meet you, Y/N. Good luck with your project!”

Bakugou grunted and shoved a water bottle at Kirishima, shrugging out from under his arm and leaving the room. Kirishima smiled at you when you said goodbye, hurrying after his sour-faced friend and leaving you and Kaminari to your work.

“Your housemates are...interesting.” You managed, still trying to wrap your head around the red-haired man.

Kaminari snorted. “Kirishima is the walking definition of sunshine, and Bakugou is...well, he takes some getting used to. But he’s not a bad guy.”

You just hummed, chewing on your pen absently. “Can he actually bench press you?”

“Fuck yeah. He does it one-handed. You should come to our next party and see for yourself.”

Keeping your face as neutral as possible, you nodded. “Maybe I can convince Shinsou to come with me.” Wiggling your eyebrows at Kaminari when he blushed, you turned back to the notebook that lay open in front of you. “Come on, let’s figure this out so we can talk more about your intentions with my best friend.”

--

You did show up to the next UA frat party, Shinsou in tow. Your purple-haired bestie was grumbling the whole way, his hands shoved in his pockets. It didn’t stop him from making fun of how short your skirt was and teasing you about how you’d done nothing but talk about Kirishima since the day you’d met him.

“He’s like Clifford the Big Red Dog, Y/N. Clumsy and adorable.”

“He’s definitely big. I’d like to climb him like a tree.” You linked your arm with his, walking up to the giant house, the windows already rattling with the bass pumping through the speakers inside.

“You’re disgusting. I am appalled and also proud to call you my best friend.” Sarcastic as usual, he let you drag him along without a fuss.

“That sounds about right.”

The party was in full swing, half the campus milling around inside the house with red plastic cups in hand. You found Kaminari almost immediately, shoving Shinsou towards him and making your way to the kitchen to find yourself a drink. 

“Y/N!” Kirishima was in front of you almost immediately, giant cat eyes and his shark tooth smile lighting up the room. “Kami mentioned you might show up!”

Blushing, you nodded, suddenly losing the ability to form words. He was wearing a tank top, his arm muscles on display, and you took a moment to thank the Lord for the blessing before you. 

“You want a drink?” 

You realized you were staring, so you cleared your throat and smiled at him. “Yes, please.”

His large hand wrapped around your elbow gently as he tugged you through the crowd in the kitchen and out towards the back porch. You tried not to think about how your skin was burning under his touch. You needed to get a grip.

He got to work on the keg, pumping the handle on the top and grabbing you a cup, tilting it a bit as he filled it with beer. 

“Hey, shitty hair! Beer pong!” You turned to see Bakugou standing on the other side of the large wooden deck, his arm resting on the shoulder of a tall and lanky brown-haired boy. “Sero here wants to break up the dream team! Find a partner!”

Kirishima chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, hang on!” He turned to you, handing you your drink. “So, you play beer pong?”

Bringing the cup to your lips, you tilted your head back and chugged your beer, wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand when you’d finished. Kirishima was staring at you with wide eyes, looking surprised but pleased. “Yeah. I’m better when I’m drunk, though.”

He held out his hand for the empty cup, moving to fill it up again, his grin never faltering. “Let’s go kick their asses.”

--

That was the beginning of your friendship with Kirishima. What had started as a crush on the red-haired man had turned into a companionship that you couldn’t ever see yourself without. That was why you never said a word about how you really felt.

As cliché as it was, you didn’t know how you’d survived without the guy. He was nothing short of amazing. He was a great listener, and he gave good advice. He was always there when you needed him, bringing you soup when you were sick, going on late-night snack runs when you were up all night studying for exams, showing up with chocolate and tampons when it was your time of the month.

Shinsou had always done those things for you, but he was spending a lot of time with his boyfriend now. You weren’t upset about it though, you thought they were the cutest and you didn’t want to third wheel their time together, so you hung out with Kirishima and Bakugou a lot more often. 

As Kaminari had told you on that first day, Bakugou truly wasn’t a bad guy. His attitude got on your nerves though, and you envisioned punching him in the face at least four times a day, but you didn’t dislike him. He and Kirishima were best friends, so he was a part of the package, and you learned to deal with him.

So it was a no-brainer when Kirishima and Bakugou approached you and asked if you wanted to get an apartment with them once you’d graduated. With the three of you living together, you were able to afford a nicer apartment than you’d ever dreamed of having that was in a central location and only a few train stops away from where your respective jobs were located.

Things were going well, and you’d done a decent job of keeping your true feelings for Kirishima to yourself. It helped that he’d never dated anyone, and you were free to lust after him quietly, under the impression that no one had caught on to how you really felt, perfectly content to continue as you had been since the day you’d met him. 

The only wrench in your plans of quiet pining was Mina Ashido.

Mina was awesome, and you loved her to pieces. She was one of the only other females in your friend group and had been around since you’d gotten closer to the boys in the frat that first year of college. She was the perfect person to go to when you needed some self-care nights, always down to put on a face mask and paint your nails, and she was the best shopping partner.

However, you were thoroughly convinced that Kirishima liked her. 

You’d noticed, as far back as your freshman year, how they always gravitated towards each other in social settings. Mina was always one of the last ones to leave when you went out back then, always the one Kirishima threw his arm around when you walked back to campus from the bar.

It was part of the reason you’d become close with Bakugou in the first place. Whenever Kiri was with Mina, you always sidled up to the explosive blonde, teasing him to distract yourself from the way your heart was squeezing in your chest. 

Neither of them had ever mentioned having more than just a platonic, friendly relationship with each other, but you couldn’t shake the feeling you got whenever you saw them together.

It’s called jealousy, you idiot.

You had nothing to be jealous about though. Kirishima was your friend, and that’s all he would ever be.

--

Things had been going well, at least that’s what you’d thought. And then this morning had happened.

It was Saturday, which was your normal grocery shopping day. You and Bakugou had taken on the burden of shopping for groceries for the apartment. You’d allowed Kirishima to go once and he came home with more junk food than should be allowed in one cart, and half of the things on the list you’d given him missing, and more protein powder than should be legally allowed.

Bakugou had worked out a system and your grocery shopping trips were like a well-oiled machine that took no longer than an hour out of your day, and you were grateful for your grumpy friend and his penchant for being overly organized.

You finished getting dressed, ready to get this over with so you could use the rest of the day to play video games and be generally lazy. Walking into the living room, you stopped in your tracks to see your roommates glaring at each other, which was normal for one of them, and uncharacteristic for the other.

“Everything okay?” Your eyes darted between the two men, taking in Kirishima’s stiff posture and clenched jaw. 

“Fine. I’m going shopping alone today.” Bakugou grunted, turning away from his best friend.

Puzzled, you frowned. “What? Why?”

Bakugou stopped in the doorway, turning to face the both of you, looking thoroughly fed up. He lifted his hand and pointed. “The two of you are making me want to commit myself. I’ve been dealing with this shit for years, and it ends today. You’re in love with each other. Figure your shit out and fuck already. I’ll be out for the rest of the day.”

You gaped after him as he turned again, giving you both the middle finger over his shoulder as he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

And that brings us up to speed.

“Are we really this stupid?” You asked, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back.

Kirishima sighed. “This doesn’t make any sense. Since when?”

Snorting, you flopped down on the couch, rubbing at your face tiredly. “Truthfully? Since the moment we met.” You guessed the cat was out of the bag, so you might as well tell him everything. “In the kitchen at the frat house.”

“When you came over to work on that project with Denki?” His eyebrows furrowed, an adorably confused look on his face. “Are you telling me I’ve been pushing you at Bakugou for nearly 5 years for no reason?”

“Yeah, you could stop doing that at any time and I would appreciate it. Unless you want me to strangle him to death.”

Kirishima flopped down on the other end of the couch, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’ve liked you just as long, you know? I saw you sitting in our kitchen and I thought I was going to throw up.”

“If that was supposed to make me feel good about myself then you’ve failed miserably.”

“No! I just mean, the butterflies-” He groaned. “Shut up and let me get this out okay?” 

Smirking at him, you turned your body, leaning against the back of the couch. “Okay, sorry, keep going.”

Taking a deep breath, he continued, red eyes trained on your face. “Do you remember the frat party?”

“Which one?”

“That first one, when you chugged that beer in front of me and then helped me kick Bakugou’s ass at beer pong?” He waited for you to nod before he spoke again. “I’d never felt so enamored with anyone in my entire life.” Kirishima let his gaze fall to his hands. “You were so awesome and funny and beautiful and you kept up with my friends and their dumbass antics like a pro and I just...I couldn’t believe you were real. I just kept telling myself that you would never be into someone like me, so I decided that if we could be friends for life then that would be enough.”

“Ei…” You trailed off, frowning. You’d always known he tended to get down on himself. You and Bakugou had done your best to convince him he was worth much more than he let himself believe, but sometimes he needed a reminder.

“I know, I know. I don’t feel that way anymore, but at the time I did.” His hair was down, tied back in a loose bun, bits of his fringe falling in his eyes. He pushed a piece of it behind his ear and kept going. “So I tried to keep my distance, kept on hanging around with Mina, tried not to think about how much I wanted to be with you. She kept telling me I needed to tell you, kept rubbing it in that I wasn’t being manly about it. But you were hanging out with Bakugou so much I just figured you liked him and I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall forward. “I was hanging out with Bakugou because I couldn’t stand seeing you with Mina so much. I was jealous.” Realization hit, and your eyes snapped open. “Mina knew?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one I told.”

“All those times we hung out and she never said a word.” Chuckling, you shook your head. “I told Shinsou. It’s like the only secret he’s ever kept from Kaminari. I threatened to mutilate him beyond all recognition if he mentioned a word to anyone.” You grinned sheepishly at him.

Kirishima huffed a laugh. “You’ve been spending way too much time with Bakugou. Your threats are just as creative as his.”

“Speaking of, I guess he figured it out on his own then.”

Humming, he shrugged. “He was always the smartest one out of all of us.” He looked over at you again. “So, now it’s your turn.”

Raising an eyebrow, you blinked at him. “For what? A heartfelt confession?” 

“It’s only fair. I told you how I felt. What did you think when you first met me?”

You felt your ears get hot. “Do you want the truth? Because it’s kind of embarrassing.”

Shifting himself on the couch, he leaned against the arm, tanned forearms resting on his knees. “Oh, this should be good.” He teased, grinning.

“Shut up.” You sighed, preparing yourself for his reaction. “When you walked into the kitchen that day, my first thoughts were...uh...pretty dirty. Like X rated.”

Eyes wide, he stared at you. “Really? How dirty are we talking here?”

You covered your face with your hands, mumbling your answer behind them.

“Sorry, what was that?” He was fucking with you again, you could hear the smirk in his voice, and you were tempted to smack him with a throw pillow.

Taking a deep breath, you moved your hands from your face, looking him right in the eye. “I said, I wanted you to step on me.”

Sputtering, he blinked a few times. “What?”

“I mean, you were this...tank, Eijirou. Like this giant man with gorgeous eyes and a killer smile, with the personality of fucking sunshine and you had these big hands and I wanted you to wrap them around my throat and-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, seriously?” His cheeks were as red as his hair, his hands flailing as he stopped your tirade. “You wanted me to…?

Nodding solemnly, you looked him dead in the eyes. “Yes, and I’ve thought about that like every day since then.” 

“I am learning things about you today that I never even imagined.” Blowing a breath out he slumped back, looking shook.

You hurried on, wanting him to know it was more than that. “I mean, after that I got to know you and I love everything about you, Ei. I just, you’re such a good person, better than I could ever be. You care about everyone and you’re always there for me, for all of us, whenever we need you. You’re strong and funny and brave. I always know that I can rely on you.” Sniffling, you couldn’t help the emotions bubbling to the surface. 

“But you also want me to step on you.” He was grinning, his eyes a little wet, too.

Wiping at your eyes with your fingers, you chuckled. “Yes, exactly.”

Sighing, he leaned forward, grabbing your arm and tugging. “Come here.”

Crawling across the couch, you laid down between his parted legs, your head resting on his chest. He wrapped his giant arms around you and kissed the top of your head. 

“Now what?” You asked, realizing you were afraid of the answer. What happened now?

He hummed, and you heard the sound vibrate through his chest. “I was going to suggest a nap, but now I keep thinking about what you said…”

You lifted up to ask what he meant, shifting your body and freezing when you felt something hard brush against your thigh. Eyes meeting his, you bit your lip at the look on his face, feeling a blush creep over your face and down your neck. “Yeah?”

“I figured we can do things out of order a little bit, right? I’m going to take you on a real date and court you properly, like a gentleman and all that, but right now all I can think about is, well…” He sat up, grabbing you around the waist and lifting you like it was nothing, until you were sitting properly on his lap, straddling his hips. When he was satisfied, his hand moved to your throat, putting the smallest amount of pressure on the sides of your neck with his calloused fingertips.

The moan that tore from your throat was low and quiet, but he heard it, muttering a curse under his breath as you became nearly boneless in his lap. “Eijriou.” You managed, licking your lips and gazing at him through half-closed eyes, your blood pounding in your ears.

It was ridiculous how turned on you were in that moment, and he’d barely done a thing. You felt his cock twitch beneath you, and you couldn’t help but grind down on him, the small amount of friction making you shiver.

Suddenly he was guiding you towards him, your noses bumping and breath mingling as he held you in place, his lips just out of your reach. “You don’t know how much I’ve always wanted you, Y/N.” 

Letting your eyes slide closed, you ran your hands up his muscled arms and rested them on his shoulders to keep yourself upright. You were tired of waiting, of keeping yourself from what you wanted. “Show me.”

If you were to die right here on this couch it would have all been worth it. The feeling of his lips on yours, the way he ran his thumb lightly over your throat as he kissed you, had your eyes rolling back in their sockets. You couldn’t get enough of the taste of him, of the feeling of his hard body beneath your fingertips. He was careful with his sharp teeth, tugging at your bottom lip lightly, your tongues sliding together as he rolled his hips against yours.

You pulled back for air finally, taking in his kiss bruised lips and dilated pupils. Reaching down, you tore your shirt over your head, tossing it across the room, never breaking eye contact. You watched his gaze fall to your heaving chest as he worried at his bottom lip for a moment, obviously lost in thought. 

Before you could ask him what he was thinking about, he’d shifted again so that his feet were on the floor. Kirishima lifted you off his lap and put you on your feet in front of him, hands moving to your waist, fingers slipping into the elastic of the leggings you were wearing. He pressed his face to your bare stomach, kissing your skin as he worked your pants down your thighs, slipping them past your knees. You played with his hair, moaning softly as he kissed along your hip.

When he sat back you stepped out of your leggings, feeling exposed. You forgot how to be awkward when he was looking at you like that, hungry and wanting. Stepping forward, you pouted. “Why am I the only one half-naked?”

Chuckling, he pulled his shirt off, and you sucked in a breath, trying to wrap your head around the fact that this man, with a chiseled and perfect body like a Greek god, wanted you.

You didn’t even have time to admire him, because he was moving again, pulling you closer by your thighs, sharp teeth hooking into the front of your panties and dragging them down. Tugging the tie out of his hair, you slid it on your wrist, letting your fingers card through his red locks. He let his hands do the rest of the work until the offending garment was tangled around your ankles. 

Pushing him away gently, you watched him settle back on the couch, red eyes gazing at you as you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor, finally fully exposed to him. Kirishima sucked in a breath, blinking a few times in disbelief. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

You kicked your panties to the side, moving to kneel in front of him, reaching up to grasp the top of his grey sweats, mouth-watering when you started to tug them down. Kirishima was huge everywhere else, so the size of his cock was of no surprise to you. He was massive, long, and girthy, and you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you, stuffing you full.

Rubbing your thighs together for some relief, you left his sweats around his ankles, leaning forward and grasping his cock in your hand. It was almost comical how small your hands looked compared to it. Your eyes locked with his as you licked a long stripe up the shaft, tracing along the prominent vein on the underside, and lapping at the precum dripping from the head. 

Kirishima’s head fell back to rest on the cushion behind him, his fingers tangling in your hair as you took him into your mouth. Your jaw ached almost immediately as you did your best to swallow all of him down, willing your throat to relax. You’d spent so long thinking about how he would taste and sound as you sucked his soul out through his dick, you were going to make the most out of this moment. 

His breathy pants filled the room, along with the obscene slurping sounds of your mouth around his cock. Gripping your hair and tugging lightly, you could tell he was holding back, his thighs shaking with the effort to keep from fucking up into your face. You pulled off, opening your mouth to let him know he could wreck you however he wanted, but he had other plans.

“Come up here, baby.”

The pet name sent shivers through you as you stood up, straddling his lap, his cock pressed up against his stomach. His thumb brushed over your lips, wiping away the spit and pre that spilled down your chin. Cradling your face in his large palm, he pulled you forward and kissed you deeply, his free hand sliding between your bodies. Thick fingers parted your folds, and you lifted up on your knees to give him better access. You moaned into his mouth as he brushed over your clit, gathering the dripping wetness of your cunt along his digits and sliding one finger inside your hole.

You clenched around him, breaking the kiss and keening loudly, your hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. His finger pumped in and out, curling slightly and pressing against your inner walls, stretching you. Gripping your hip with his other hand, he kissed his way down your jaw to your neck and chest, tongue flicking out over your nipple, hot breath ghosting over your skin with a chuckle when you grabbed his head and pulled him towards you.  

One finger turned to two and then three as you rocked and mewled in pleasure, his thumb finding your clit again and pressing against the bundle of nerves, whispered praises reaching your ears as he sucked and bit at your breasts. You were on the edge, wanting to fall over and drown in him, needing to cum all over his fingers and then again on his cock, wanting nothing more than to feel this way forever. 

“Ei I’m gonna…” You panted, unable to form the words.

Grunting, he moved his fingers faster, pressing his thumb in a little harder, his words of praise streaming steadily, telling you how good you were, how pretty you looked. Eyes rolling back, your body tensed, a moan in the sound of his name leaving your lips as you shook, cumming harder than you ever had in your life. 

You were still clenching when he pulled his fingers out of you, his hand slick with release as he tugged on his cock and lined it up with your entrance, your body mourning the loss for mere seconds before he was filling you again. The slick glide of your arousal had you taking nearly all of him, the two of you groaning in tandem at the feeling. Gripping his shoulders, you lifted slightly, slamming your hips back down and taking him to the hilt. The stretch was just on the edge of painful, but his thick digits had stretched you just enough that the pleasure superseded any discomfort.

Still trying to gather yourself after your orgasm, you took a moment to breathe, studying his face, your gaze tracing over the scar on his eyelid, and his dark lashes fanning over his cheeks. An hour ago you never could have imagined you’d be here, panting shakily, drenched in sweat and skin to skin with your best friend and roommate. 

Clenching around him, you held his shoulders, rocking forward and lifting yourself slightly. Kirishima gripped your hips, fucking up into you in a steady rhythm, his lips finding yours once again to swallow the panting moans leaving you. You bounced on his cock, relishing the feeling as he kissed down your neck, his fingertips digging into your flesh, sure to leave bruises for you to admire the next day.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but it didn’t even matter. Just being this close to him, feeling him filling you so completely after wanting him for so long, it could have been minutes and you’d be happy. Knowing he felt for you as strongly as you felt for him was enough. 

His fingers trailed along your front and dipped in between your bodies to rub your clit again, and you felt the pleasure race down your spine, coil tightening again and ready to break. “Oh fuck, Eijirou!”

Growling, he grunted your name as his hips snapped up to meet yours, chasing his release. “I love you, Y/N.”

His words tipped you over again, your breath catching as you came, the wet sounds of his cock plunging into you increasing as you gushed around him. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, completely spent. You held onto him as he slammed into you a few more times, rhythm faltering and hips stuttering until he was filling you up with a loud groan.

Collapsing back onto the couch, he held you to his chest, the two of you gasping for air. It was quiet for a few minutes as he rubbed his palm along your back comfortingly. You felt relaxed and sated, a pleased smile making its way to your face when you thought about what he’d said.

“Hey, Ei?” You pulled back slightly to look at him, giggling when he peeked one eye open to gaze at you.

“You okay?”

“Mm. I just wanted to tell you that I love you, too.”

He looked sheepish, opening both eyes and biting his lip. “I didn’t mean to tell you like that. I wanted it to be romantic.”

“That was plenty romantic, Eijirou.” Rolling your eyes fondly, you shifted in his lap. “I’m just happy to hear you say it.”

“Man, we did this all wrong. I should have at least taken you to dinner first. This is so unmanly of me, I just couldn’t help it.” He frowned. “I’m sorry-”

“You’re too good sometimes, Ei. I’m not complaining, am I?” You raised an eyebrow. “We should go get cleaned up before Bakugou comes home and finds out we fucked on the couch.”

“Please don’t talk about Bakugou while you’re sitting on my dick.” He made a face that caused you to bust into gasping laughter. 

“Oh my god, I can’t.” You wheezed. “You’re ridiculous.” You moved to get up and he stopped you.

With a serious look on his face, he pushed your hair away from your face, his hand lingering near your ear. “I do love you though, Y/N. And I’m glad we finally got here. I didn’t think we ever would.”

Expression softening, you leaned into his palm, smiling at him. “Me too.”

Maybe if you had just told him how you felt all those years ago, you would have been able to have this sooner. But you promised yourself that you wouldn’t dwell on the past, deciding to focus on the future, because you knew it would be filled with more moments with him just like this.

[lilacverses]

Author’s note: A repost from my other blog - to new beginnings 

Pairing: Kotaro Bokuto x Reader

WC: 1,081

Tags: gym setting, gender neutral reader, fluff, SFW

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

It's your first time going to the gym after a couple years, since high school. The active side of you died after you started university, essays and exams killing your free time and motivation. After a few friends started going, you got a boost of motivation to go again. Plus you got to hang with them between workouts. It was at the end of your first week, when you saw a familiar face in the weights area. It was Kotaro Bokuto from Fukurōdani academy. 

He looked different than he did back in high school. He got beefier, broader shoulders and a bigger chest, his pecs are more prominent now. However, you can tell he's still the same Bokuto from high school, with his bubbly and eager personality. You were glad that you were a bit sweaty, the sweat made your cheeks flushed and shiny, camouflaging the blush. You always had a small crush on Bokuto, his confidence and how he expressed himself is what reeled you in. People always called him immature and childish with his tantrums during matches. Maybe he was but you didn't mind because you knew he cared a lot and was passionate about the sport he loved. 

You haven't seen Bokuto since graduation, you doubt he remembers you, you were quiet and blended into the crowd back in high school. As you were taking your sight off him, his eyes glazed over the treadmills, at your direction. When his golden eyes saw yours, they widened as did his mouth, showing a huge grin. He let go of the handles of his row machine and waved at you. You waved back, a part of you happy that he remembered you and another embarrassed that he saw you in your sweaty state. 

When Bokuto was done with his reps, he made his way to you. You paused your workout on the treadmill and got off. 

"Heyy (L/N), how are you? It's been awhile, you look good." He said while looking at you, scanning you from head to toe.

"Hey Bokuto, thanks" you began to fiddle with your fingers.

"yeah it's been awhile, since graduation. I'm good, how about you?" You meet his gaze.

"Ah me, nothing really. Just training to get into a good team in the league, I have tryouts for a couple of teams coming up." He said this while scratching the back of his head, sounded like he really didn't want to talk about himself right now

"Nothing really, Bo that is something. Good for you! I'm sure you're going to get into one of those teams, they'll be lucky to have you!" 

Bokuto gives you a soft smile, you can see a hint of a blush on his face. 

"You really mean that?" You nodded quickly

"of course I do!!"

"Thank you, I appreciate it. Anyways enough about me, let's talk about you! How's life treating you?"

You put your hands on your hips while looking at the floor, gathering your thoughts. "It's been okay, nothing much really, just focusing on school. Coming to the gym is the most exciting thing that has happened to me in a bit. It's actually my first week here"

"Really? That's so cool that you came here, I have been coming to this gym for forever. I'm happy to see a familiar face again, especially yours." You were surprised at his words

"How are you liking it so far?"

"I like it! I'm still afraid of the weight machines though, I don't want to pull something" 

"In that case, how about I show you around and show you how the machines work?" He said excitedly 

"Are you sure? I don't want to take away from your routine." 

"It's no problem, it's always good to have a gym buddy, we can train together even!" His eyes getting bigger by the second of how psyche he was about the idea

"Sounds like a good idea but I'm still just a beginner" You look at him sheepishly

"Hey! Everyone starts out as a beginner, you have nothing to worry about" He went to grab your shoulders and gives them a gently squeeze

"Okay, okay you convinced me haha" 

"Great! So it's a date, see you later, gym buddy" and with that Bokuto left to go back to the weights area

A date huh?

Over the next few days and weeks, you and Bokuto made a habit of meeting each other at the entrance and walking in together. Making small talk on the way over to the lockers and changing rooms. After the warm up, he would show you how to use a new machine or how better your form at a machine you had experience in. This led to some "intimate" moments between him and you. Either his arms were around yours or around your waist. You would make eye contact with each other for a few seconds and quickly look away, a blush usually making its appearance on both of your faces. It's something out of a cheesy rom-com movie.

One day after training was over, you walked out side-by-side. Your Hands are almost touching. Bokuto was tired of not expressing his true feelings towards you. Bokuto forces you to stop by grabbing your arms and making you look at him.

Those moments fuelled the feelings you had for him. Not knowing that it also fuelled the feelings he had for you. He hoped that by calling this little routine you two had a date, it would make it clear that he liked you.

"(Y/n)... I really like you, would you like to go on a real date with me? He said without catching a breath

Your eyes blinked rapidly multiple times, having a hard time to process his words. Did Kotaro Bokuto just ask you out?? You quickly answered, in hopes that this wasn't a dream or an alternative universe you fell into.

"I like you too Bo... a lot! I would love to go on a date with you" you shot him a grin, mirroring the same grin he gave you back during your first week at the gym.

"I'm so glad! I can finally say how cute you look when lifting weights" He said while giving you a bear hug, moving you side to side

You pulled away afterwards 

"I look cute when lifting weights?" You raised an eyebrow

"Bo honey, I look sweaty when I lift weights."

He replies with a "yeahh and what's your point?"

[janghoefett]

THE CUSTOMER (Boba Fett x F!Reader)

This is another overhaul and rework of one of my fics previously posted on AO3. It’s beefier now ✨

Rating: Explicit (18+) Pairing: F/M Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: Virgin reader(!!!) being scared of Boba Fett (?), reader is a bartender, mild smut, Boba Fett is soft, Boba attacking a customer who doesn’t pay you.

Summary: Boba Fett takes a liking to the reader, and you can mark her down as scared and horny.

Tagging: @fettsvette @amidalaholdo @escapedthesarlacc @thundersheild​ @onabouteverything​ @fiend-friend​ @angryares​

The most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy had taken interest in you. And you were terrified.

You would pour Boba Fett’s drinks nightly, bartending at a cantina in some backwater town in some backwater place. The bounty hunter would pick a seat for the evening and attend to his seedy visitors, whoever they may be. You wouldn’t notice when he would come in; usually he’d appear lounging in a booth at some point in the evening, giving you a faceless nod as a greeting.

The helmet was a terrifying concept, shrouded in mystery and rumors that sent a chill up your spine, and when you’d feel the visor of that helmet watching you for just a moment longer than it should you felt yourself becoming his prey — of which kind, you did not know.

“Care to have a drink with me, princess?” 

Everyone had cleared out and the voice makes your breath stop, but you turn around to find Boba Fett standing there with his helmet tucked under his arm. His face ruggedly handsome with dark features and he was older than you, significantly. You could see the wear of war on his skin.

You accepted his invitation, but your heart pounded no less.

Boba had one hell of a reputation and he sensed your hesitation around him. As you spent the evening together, however, you came to realize he was the epitome of loneliness; was there any bigger giveaway than asking your bartender for company?

“Why do you do your job?” he asked at one point that night.

“Because…” you start, swirling around your drink as you think about the answer, “I don’t know, it pays well and it’s something easy for me.”

“As is mine,” he replies with a smirk. “A job is a job.”

You began to understand him after that night.

———————————————————

Boba kept coming back night after night and it scared the hell out of you.

You found yourself dreaming about him, waking up only to find a familiar wetness between your legs. Yet despite your desire, you’d deflect his advances — you couldn’t help it. His reputation was off-putting and you never wanted to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

You saw his his anger once. When a customer had stiffed you on the bill one night, Boba was on him, slamming his head down hard on the bar. “Pay the young lady what you owe,” he demanded. The man’s hands fumbled for his pocket like a scared fool and he tipped you triple.

The possibility that Boba was only friendly so that you would sleep with him made you anxious. You knew he had been with several women and your inexperience made you shy away from him. Perhaps it was embarrassment, as fucked up as it was. Or perhaps you didn’t want to be just another quick fuck for him.

Of course Boba wanted a night with you; he was almost obsessed. A beautiful girl had given him a glimpse into a world that was not his own. You didn’t bow down to him and you didn’t fling yourself into his lap whispering what your rates were like the women he often found himself in bed with.

All the same, he never insisted and you established what felt like a friendship. Boba would lean on the bar as you worked, listening to you tell stories about the various characters of the cantina. He would come back with the strangest remarks, using that dry sense of humor that made you grin from ear to ear.

You’d drink a bit, flirt a bit. But night after night, you’d dismiss yourself early — and Boba agreed that you should.

——————————————————

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Boba announces gruffly one night after everyone had cleared out.

You exhale sharply, setting down the towel you were using to wipe the counter. The news carries more weight than it should; you don’t know what you were waiting for, or what you thought would have happened. “I’ll miss seeing you around,” is all you muster up the courage to say.

Boba approaches you slowly — you can feel your breath catch in your throat — and he covers your hand with his larger one.

You stand just inches from each other and cautiously, you rest a hand on his chest plate. Boba’s arm pulls your waist in and, before you can think, Boba catches your lips in his. You moan slightly, a pathetic little noise, as he presses you against his armor, working his strong lips against yours.

“Boba…” you breathe, breaking off as a familiar ache forms between your legs.

You stumble into a booth, sitting on his lap as your hands explore each other. When Boba's lips come to your neck, however, you grow skittish. You can feel his cock pressed against your center and it’s big; dank ferrik, of course it is, he was ready you to bend you over this table right now.

Despite how much you wanted him, despite how much you actually lead yourself to this moment, there is genuine fear in your heart. “Boba,” you say again, steadying his face in your hands. His skin is hot and flushed. “I… I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

Boba searches your face, breathing heavily. “Have you been with a man before, mesh’la?” he asks.

You feel the embarrassed heat rush into your face and stand up, reaching for your bag to leave. You hated the question. But after all, Boba wasn’t one to be indirect. And he was right.

“You must think something’s wrong with me,” you say quietly, unable to look him in the eye.

“No,” he says sternly. “No, I can see there’s nothing wrong with you, girl. Come here.”

After taking a deep breath you walk back to Boba tentatively. He props you up on a barstool, standing between your legs.

The bounty hunter takes your hand and places it under his shirt and armor, over his beating heart. It’s a strong, steady rhythm. His large hand keeps yours still against his warm bare chest.

“Do you feel that?” he asks.

“Yes…”

“I’m a man made of flesh and bone. That is nothing to fear, mesh’la.”

Boba’s brown eyes are honest and patient. Your hand comes up to his cheek, pulling his lips back into a tentative kiss.

“Take me back to your ship?” you ask softly.

———————————————————————

Boba snapped his hips into yours just right. He marveled at the way you hung on to him so tightly, as if you would drown otherwise. The bounty hunter understood the trust you placed in him — and he wasn’t going to make you regret it.

Your kisses were the sweetest the bounty hunter had ever felt. You would turn your head to plant a trail down his jaw and his neck, and it only made Boba hold you closer, fuck you deeper. Boba wasn’t rough exactly; he was red-blooded while remaining mindful of your limits… and you loved it. “Shh, mesh'la, that’s it,” he’d whisper as you mewled and cried beneath him at the stretch of his cock, both of you slowing down to gentler motions. “Good girl, there you go.”

Boba knew exactly how to get you off, and it turned him on being the one to guide you. To Boba you were an angel, too soft for the filth of the galaxy and too innocent for him to mark. He was older; a hardened warrior with more blood on his hands than you would ever know. But with every thrust you take, and with every time you cry his name, the bounty hunter’s sins feel washed away as your pleasure becomes his own.

You are left a heaving mess, lying on Boba’s chest as he runs his fingers lightly over the skin of your back. “Did that feel good, little one?” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “D’you feel okay?”

“Yes,” you respond, catching his lips with your own. “Thank you.”

It was perfect.

The first rays of the morning sun peak over the horizon. You had stayed in bed speaking softly, running your hands lazily over each other’s bodies as you asked him about the far-off places he’s gone and the bounties he’s caught. So much time had been spent keeping Boba away, and now that you saw him as a man — a man who made you feel safe — you didn’t want to let him go.

You kiss each other drowsily on the boarding ramp, whispering sincere, lighthearted goodbyes before you turn to leave.

“Mesh’la,” he calls, pulling you back in close to him with an arm around your waist.

“What?” you giggle softly.

Boba searches your face for a moment and the giddy grin fades from your lips. Saying goodbye to a man you barely knew shouldn’t be hard, yet here you were, looking into his eyes as if you’ve known him forever.

Boba’s arms wrap tightly around your waist in silence as you kiss one last time, slowly, neither of you daring to let go. “Bye, Boba,” you whisper against his lips, stroking his cheek.

He watches until you’re no longer in his sight.

[juniorgman187]

Serendipity (Reid Fic) Part 1

A/N: If you’re wondering if this is at all based on Rosie and Marco’s storyline in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” then you should know - it totally is.

Summary: An FBI gathering brings Reader and Spencer together after years of distance. This one night changes not only their future, but their perspective on the past.  Category: Angst, Smut, *NSFW content Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Mentions of traumatic childhood, child neglect, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, menstruation, pregnancy Word Count: 10.2k

I originally thought I would be able to fit everything into 1 part, but after further reconsideration, this will be a two part series. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Serendipity: (n). Finding something good without looking for it.

A word I would only come to truly understand many months from now on a warm Thursday morning in May at St. Mary’s Hospital. 

But whenever my thoughts drifted back towards the past, I would always remember that this was how it all began - on a chilly Saturday night in the heart of D.C.

Not more than four hours ago, Emilia and I drove down here for an F.B.I function that hired us. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have agreed to be the caterers for an event so far away, but we eventually signed on after learning that there were at least 600 people attending. That meant a considerable amount of customers and an exorbitant amount of money. Saying yes was clearly a no brainer. 

Just to put it into perspective of how big this event would be, Emilia and I got lucky if we could park somewhere with 80 customers. 80. So this event would be colossal for us.

But who would have guessed that in a crowd of 600, I would run into the one and only - Spencer Reid. 

To preface, this wasn’t just any old birthday party, parade, or festival. It was a celebration and a grand one at that. Considering it was a private event at the Washington Monument, we were given special instructions to abide by the black-tie formal dress code that guests had to follow, too. I guess the caterers can’t look like slobs in the United States’ Capitol, now can they?

I definitely spent more time than I should have deciding on what outfit to wear, but my conscientiousness, or rather indecisiveness, did pay off in the end. For I would run into someone worth the trouble of impressing. 

My hair, unlike Emilia’s, was down and curled in big waves, and on one side, some of my hair was tucked behind my ear and designed to stay that way thanks to copious amounts of hairspray and an ungodly total of bobby pins. Emilia lent me a black, floor-length dress that had a plunging v-neck that didn’t fit her anymore, but luckily, fit perfectly on me. Although I would have to remember not to lean over too far tonight, otherwise, the customers might get a show they didn’t pay for. I, however, didn’t look half so good as my business partner. 

Emilia was clad in a navy blue silk dress with puffy sleeves and a high collar; the dress clung to her every curve, including her newly protruding belly bump. She looked regal and pregnant all at the same time, qualities I hadn’t seen coexist in anyone but the Queens and Duchesses in England. 

“Well, don’t you look hot?” Emilia purred, running her fingers through my curls, then letting them fall and sway back into place. 

“Are you kidding? You are quite literally a sexy mama.” I gushed to her, receiving a light chuckle in return. 

“Yeah, well, when you’re five months pregnant, tell me how sexy you feel in a tight dress.” She remarked, turning her back to me while she arranged all the supplies in the kitchenette behind me. But even as she faced away from me, she still managed to recognize the effect her words had. Maybe it was something in my silence, or our sister-telepathy, but Emilia immediately felt the room depress. In an effort to take back the remark that turned the room cold, she sweetly added while hugging me from behind, “You’re gonna be a mom one day, too. I promise.” 

I leaned into her embrace, feeling guilty for ruining the moment while also feeling burdened by the reminder of the terrible reality I had to face every day.

Ever since I could remember, I thought I was destined to be a mother, but that destiny had yet to be fulfilled.

Emilia was born only three years after me, and though that age gap isn’t big enough for me to be mistaken for her mother, I, she, and our younger brother Saul would all agree that in many ways I was their mom. I was the parent our parents never were. I was there for everything - soccer games, dance recitals, winter musicals - never getting the chance to participate in my own, but always attending their’s. 

I had to admit sometimes it was a burden, having to grow up so fast and help raise my siblings while still trying to navigate through my own struggles of adolescence, but I saw it as something I was meant to do. 

See, I wouldn’t have minded all the responsibilities of being a parent so much when it’d be my own kids that I’d be fulfilling them for - when it would be by my choice to fulfill those responsibilities and not by unfortunate birth order. 

However, as the years have gone by, my calling to be a mother has gotten quieter and quieter and quieter until eventually, I don’t think I’ll be able to hear it anymore. 

It’s not that I can’t have kids, but the fear of rushing into having one is what’s stopped me from pursuing that dream. 

As someone who grew up with divorced parents and practically became my siblings only reliable caregiver, I knew what having a baby too soon could do to a family. So rather than repeating history, I chose to wait to have kids. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did, and so I lived my life. I traveled all across the globe, I met new people, tried new things, I even started this taco truck business with Emilia. 

But still that gaping hole in my chest remained. A hole that nothing could ever fill the way that a child would. 

No amount of living could make up for the emptiness of a life with no family.

I could pretend all I wanted that I was happy living out my twenties, but the truth was I didn’t want to spend the rest of my years working in a food truck, amounting to nothing more than a mediocre cook and middling entrepreneur. That was never my dream - as exciting as it was. 

My real dream was to have a good life. The kind my parents never had thanks to the unplanned arrival of me. The kind my baby sister was already living out. 

“You know what? It’s a really nice night out. I think I might go for a walk. Do you wanna come?” Was this my blatant avoidance of breaching the subject of pregnancy? Yes, but it was also my escape from this food truck that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller and smaller by the second. 

“No, I’m okay. I’ll just get everything ready.” Emilia resigned. 

She knew why I was really leaving - sister-telepathy, I’m telling you - but she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. For that, I was thankful. Maybe we were better at communicating with no words at all. 

I carefully stepped off the back of the truck, making sure to hike up my dress high enough so I wouldn’t trip over the mess of fabric when my feet hit the floor. The nippy December air felt like a cool balm on my hot skin. I was burning up in that truck, and maybe it was nerves or something else, but I just had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was no explanation for it, but I realize now that the pit in my stomach was caused by something my intuition could sense but something my mind couldn’t understand. 

Someone important from my past was here tonight.

As I sauntered around the monument, I took in the breathtaking view of the structure’s silhouette against the blazing orange sky that melted into an ocean blue. I regretted not bringing my phone to take a picture of it so I could show Emilia when I got back, but that one regret quickly turned into another when the night sky’s breeze brought a rude awakening. My body shivered at the frigid gust of wind that blew through and I suddenly started to regret not bringing a jacket.

“Are you cold?” A gentle voice asked me from behind. 

I slightly recoiled out of shock of someone being there. When I turned around though, I couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features. All I knew for sure was that this was certainly a man, and a tall one, too. 

“Um, just a little.” I bashfully admitted, crossing my arms to hug myself and maintain some warmth. I hadn’t even thought about my dress’s plunging v-neck or the fact that I was practically squeezing my breasts together, accentuating them even further, but by the time, I realized, it was too late. He was already looking. But not at my chest. Somewhere far more invasive. 

My eyes. 

“Here, take my jacket.” 

My small protests did nothing to stop him as he inevitably slipped the coat around my shoulders anyway. He’d come so close that I could finally see him and smell him. And let me tell you, if the sight of him wasn’t enough to break an overflowing dam of memories, then his smell certainly sent a flood that would.

“Oh my god,” I quietly gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to cover its un-ladylike gaping. 

“Spencer Reid?”

I squinted my eyes and cocked my head even further to find evidence to support my assumption, and sure enough, I found exactly what I was looking for. 

I was frozen in place as I deeply examined his face. My God! I mean, in many ways, he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him. Same dazzling hazel eyes. Same uniquely adorable nose. Same over-stimulated pink lips. I wonder if he still bit them as much as he did back then? 

But at the same time, he was so different. Of course, I could still discern the same features I used to study endlessly back then, but his face had transformed into a man’s. He lost the glasses for one thing, but he also had a softer jawline, longer hair, and for lack of a better term, a beefier build.

He was all grown up now, and yet, I could still identify the same boyishly handsome charm that made me fall in love with him more than a decade ago.

“I knew it was you, (y/n).” He chuckled, sounding half proud of himself. My heart fluttered at the sound of my name on his tongue and the action that followed. With his eyes locked on mine, he tucked strands of my hair back behind my ears; it’s as if he were saying, “Let me get a good look at you.” 

“How? It’s almost completely dark outside. You could barely even see me.” Certainly, you can understand why I was skeptical. Sounded too good to be true, if you ask me. 

He shook his head lightly with a smile, seemingly questioning how I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that question. “No one else looks like you. Not even in the dark.” 

His words spoke to a part of my soul specifically reserved for him. They were so genuine that I almost didn’t want to believe them because how could someone speak such lovely things and truly mean them? The world wasn’t that good a place. Certainly not good enough for Spencer Reid. 

In that moment, I flew out of my own body and watched this entire scene unfold from up above. I could see the version of a girl I hadn’t seen in years, not since that last interaction with Spencer. She had these big lovesick eyes as she swooned over a man with just the same lovesick look. 

The excessive upward tilt of my head and the way his neck craning down must’ve made it seem like we were about to kiss, but I knew better than to expect such a thing from Spencer Reid. And if anything, what we were doing right now was much more intimate than kissing. 

“Wow, you ... you really grew up. You look great.” My own voice sounded unfamiliar to me after the words slipped from my mouth without even registering in my brain first. 

“Are you kidding? Look at you! I mean, you are just ...” He paused for a moment to look me up and down, and I nearly shivered at the thought that he was practically undressing me with his eyes. “You’re absolutely beautiful. But you always were.” 

I was almost completely in a daze when I heard a hideous squawk of a bird flying overhead. This wouldn’t make sense, but it nearly felt like a sign. Like the bird knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, reminding me of where I belonged - reality - not in this fantasy with Spencer. 

“Um,” My head spun as I drew back from him. “I should probably get back. I’ll see you later.” I touched his upper arm gently as I passed by him, and it stunned me how warmth just radiated off of his body. 

To my all too quick goodbye, he simply waved and watched me walk past him with a pursed-lip smile. And just before I got too far, I thought I heard him say, “I hope so.” 

Though my feet were carrying me away from Spencer, my thoughts were only drifting closer to the memory of him, and we did have so many memories. 

11 Years Ago ...

I was at the ripe age of 16 when I got my driver’s license. And to anyone else, this would seem like a given milestone, but to me - it was so much more. With the obtainment of my license, I also gained access to a whole new world. Opportunities poured at the seams. I could drive anyone and anywhere I wanted to and though it wasn’t true, it felt like I could do anything, too. But like all things good in my life, it fell apart in the face of responsibilities. 

My newly obtained license was just another way for my parents to exploit me. Now, they didn’t have to drive Emilia and Saul since I could. Looking back, I have to wonder if the only reason they funded my driver’s ed classes were for the exact reason that if I took them, I’d sooner be able to take on yet another helping of duties they were too lazy to fulfill.

There’s one particular moment I can remember from this age and that same moment could also be regarded as the catalyst that would set off a series of events for the next 11 years to come.

It was the end of the school year and summer vacation was right around the corner. I was a sophomore at the time, and the prospect of being a junior the next year excited me. 

To kick off the start of summer, Melody Hanes was throwing a pool party at her house. Everyone knew she was filthy rich because of a dead grandpa or some other, not to mention, she was also in student government so she had just as big of a role in school as her grandpa’s death did in making the Hanes family wealthy. 

Though I never knew her personally, I did have third period chemistry with her for the entire year, and I sat right in front of her for pretty much the entirety of second semester. She must’ve only addressed me a handful of times, but she still invited me to her party anyway. Proximity, I had to admit, did play a part in that though because if I sat just a seat farther away, then I wouldn’t have been. 

I came home that day, thrilled to tell my mother about my invitation. It would’ve been my first party that wasn’t a distant relative’s birthday celebration or a childish sleepover in elementary. It was my first real high school party, and for once, I thought - maybe I’d finally get the quintessential ‘high school experience.’

But of course, I never did. 

As soon as I got home, I parked my car in the driveway, got the mail, and came inside the house to see my mother sitting on the couch watching TV, as per usual. While I was telling her about my invitation, she didn’t bother to lower the volume or even look away from the screen to give me her undivided attention, and when she did look away, it was only to take the mail from my hands. 

“Your sister’s science fair is on that day, and you have to take her because I’ll be working from 1 to 7.” My mother never once looked up from the mail she was sorting through to address me. And her words, while incredibly monotone, were also spoken with such finality, like what she said was the last she ever wanted to speak on the topic. No room for discussion. 

I’m not still losing sleep over it, but at the time, it felt like for once, I could actually just be a teenager and be young and reckless like everyone else, but that it was just taken from me. I never got the chance to be a kid again.

With the exception of Emilia’s science fair.

I knew my father wouldn’t be there, and obviously my mother wouldn’t, so I stayed to watch her presentation and to walk around the rest of the time. She deserved someone in her corner, and that someone was me. Even if no one was in mine. 

As I serpentined through the cafeteria, a bittersweet feeling came upon me. From paper mâché volcanoes to potato batteries, I observed a childlike sense of wonder that I hadn’t felt for years. 

Here, I was surrounded by children who got to be just children. They got to occupy themselves with trivial matters, like how gardens grow or if video games actually do rot your brain. 

Their problems had solutions and their questions had answers, and it almost made me wish that I could revert back to a time where life was that easy, but I couldn’t because it never was … not for me. 

So to sum it up, it was precious and heartbreaking all at the same time. 

While browsing the fair, I stumbled upon a man that didn’t quite seem to fit in, and maybe it was my own unfitting appearance that made me recognize his. He could’ve very well been the brother of one of these children, but something about the way he was dressed and the way he carried himself made me highly doubt that. 

He couldn’t have been a parent either, for he was not too far off from my own age, and if he was a parent of one of these eighth graders, that would have to mean that he had a kid when he was in kindergarten. So for all intents and purposes, he wasn’t someone’s brother or someone’s father. Who he actually was - I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.

After that first observance, I spotted him a couple more times, but it wasn’t until we were looking at the same project that we actually spoke. 

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The sudden sound of his voice alarmed me, but only because it seemingly came out of nowhere. Generally, before someone speaks to you, you notice signals that they’re about to, which helps you prepare for conversation. Whether it’s nervous twitches, a look in your direction, maybe even a small acknowledging smile, you’ll recognize they want to or plan to talk to you, but none of those signs were given to me. Even when I turned my head to give him my attention, he was still fixated on the project in front of us. 

“Yeah, it really is,” I politely agreed. I awkwardly looked around the room as if I’d find an answer as to what to say next because I did want to keep talking to him, but the longer I stayed silent, the more I fear he’d begin to think I didn’t want to. With nothing else to ask but the question that had been bothering me since I first laid eyes on him, I simply went for it. 

“So, who are you here for?”

For the first time, he turned his head to the side to look right at me. With a quizzical expression, he responded. “Oh, no one. I’m just a judge here.” 

It was my turn to possess a quizzical expression. His statement wouldn’t have been weird, except for the part where any judge I’d seen or talked to were all well into their forties or fifties. 

“Aren’t you kinda young to be a judge? You’re, like, what? Seventeen, eighteen?

“Nineteen actually. But I regularly come to judge the Summer Science Fairs here since I went to this middle school eleven years ago.” 

Again, I would’ve taken his word for it, but the math didn’t make sense. “You were in middle school at eight years old?” 

“Mhm. I ended up graduating high school at twelve.” He said it so nonchalantly, but for how big of a feat it was, I thought it would’ve deserved a more prideful tone, yet he still maintained such a cavalier one. Did he not think himself to be impressive? 

“Jeez, you must be really smart.” 

He shoved his hands in his pockets, which made me notice that he wasn’t carrying a clipboard like the other judges, which was probably another reason why I didn’t take him for one. How would he be able to remember the projects that he was considering for awards? He’d have to have some magical memory for that.

Before answering, he began to walk away, but nonetheless he continued addressing me, so I followed him where he went. 

“Mmm not necessarily. My IQ isn’t high enough to suggest I’m a provable genius yet, but I do have an eidetic memory and I can currently read 16,000 words per minute, which definitely helps. I hope to be able to read 20,000 words per minute in the future.” 

Despite answering my question, he only left me with many more. 

“What is your IQ right now?”

“131.”

My eyes widened. Even I, with my limited knowledge on intelligence quotients knew that was high, especially for someone as young as he was. 

“So what IQ score do you have to have in order to be considered a genius?”

I couldn’t help but notice how he barely took anytime to think before answering me. It’s like his brain just knew everything, right then and there. 

“A score of over 140 is considered a genius or near genius.”

“Wow, so you’re almost a genius then?”

“Almost, but not quite. If I receive diverse stimulation at a consistent rate for the next few years, I predict that I’ll have an IQ of 180 or higher by the time I’m in my early twenties.”

You would think he would leave me speechless, but I still went on to ask him about what an eidetic memory was, and he explained to me that he could remember things exceedingly well, but that it was not the same thing as a photographic memory. He made that distinction very clear to me. 

Our conversation droned on for the rest of the fair as we continued to circle the cafeteria. I can’t count how many times we lapped around the same projects, but we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Once those first few seconds after meeting him, when I didn’t know what to say, passed, I never again felt a sense of not knowing. We could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn’t matter. I would never get bored. 

How could I? When I was with him, it felt like the rest of the world just faded away. Our discourse flowed so easily, no pressure, no awkward silence. It was just me and him, and if you ask me, that’s quite the opposite of boring. 

That was the first and final time I ever truly felt like a kid. Just like the ones in the science fair. Not a care in the world except for my morbid curiosity of the marvel that was him.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and I inevitably found myself being ripped out of my trance when I felt an aggressive tug on my sweater.

“We can go now.” Emilia interrupted. 

I hadn’t even noticed that a majority of the poster boards were taken down and that an even larger majority of the people were long gone, too. I got so lost in the conversation that I didn’t realize we were one of the last people still there. 

Emilia’s eagerness to leave was apparent as she pulled me away from my interesting conversationalist. 

“I had a nice time talking to you!” I called out to him, walking backwards to lengthen the period of time I could keep looking at him. 

“Likewise.”

I turned around fully just before I finally realized something. “Hey!” I yelled across the distance. “I never got your name!” 

He bashfully smiled and looked down at his feet briefly. “It’s Spencer! Spencer Reid!” 

I stood there for a moment, silently processing his name. 

“What’s yours?” He yelled back. 

I chuckled mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to find out next time.” My ambiguity puzzled him and intrigued him all at the same time. 

“Next time?” 

With the intentions of leaving him without a true answer, I simply turned on my heels and started walking away. 

“Bye, Spencer!”

Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, I knew after that first day, he could never forget me. 

- Present Time -

By the time I made it back to the truck, people were already lining up to order. 

“Get over here!” Emilia squealed excitedly from the window, her hand rapidly waving me over as if it’d suddenly increase my speed. I ran back as fast as I could in a dress and heels and climbed into the truck, mirroring my sister’s zeal. 

When I stepped in, Emilia took one glance at me and furrowed her brows. “Where’d you get the jacket?” 

Had she not mentioned it, I would not have remembered the foreign fabric that wrapped around my shoulders. 

“Oh, shoot!” I palmed my forehead after the realization dawned on me. I should’ve noticed sooner that I still had it on, but honestly, it didn’t feel unusual or out of place. It was comfortable and familiar, like it was meant to be there that entire time.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but do you think you can handle this alone for just a second? I have to return this to a friend.” I asked while slipping off the coat to ready myself to leave, even in the event that Emilia said she wouldn’t let me go. Luckily though, she understood it was urgent. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just hurry back.” 

I extended my head to look out just past the side of the truck to look for Spencer while still being concealed within the vehicle. Now that there were more people here, I wasn’t exactly sure I should be caught mingling with the attendees, so instead, I decided to search for him from the truck, rather than wandering around the party, giving the impression to the people that hired us that I wasn’t doing my job and was just here to socialize. 

Luckily, there was something about my attachment to Spencer that was supernatural. I had this metaphysical ability to spot him even in a crowded place. I could find him anywhere. But whether that was a blessing or a curse was to be determined because right as my paranormal power kicked in, I found him. And there he was - standing next to another girl, a proximity much too close and a smile much too big to be anything less than flirtatious.

I paused to recall the image I had of myself earlier, when I floated up and out of my own body. I looked just like her - an oversized grin combined with lovesick eyes. 

But that’s not the worst part. 

The worst part was he was returning just the same look of attraction to her. 

“Um, actually,” I re-entered the truck completely, tossing the jacket aside haphazardly. “I’ll just return it later.” 

“You sure? You can go. I’ve got things covered right now.” She said between multitasking at a rate that even I, a very-much-not-pregnant-woman, could manage. 

All I could mutter back without giving away the sharp ache in my heart was, “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

_ _ _

After hours and hours of non-stop working, the night, at last, was coming to a close. The large crowd had sized down considerably, until I could no longer hear the sound of a thousand voices meshing. All the decorations were already coming down by the time Emilia and I finished packing up the truck. Without the hectic energy to cause adrenaline to course through my veins, it should’ve been peaceful, yet my heart was not at peace. 

I couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing Spencer with that girl, but that wasn’t really why I was upset. It was more about the fact that I’d actually believed for a second that I had any chance with him. I should’ve known he wasn’t single, and the fact that I let myself swoon over him again angered me all the more. If I ever had a chance with Spencer, the time to act on it was long gone.

Now, I had to live with that. 

“You sure you wanna stay here alone? I’ll come with you if you want me to.” 

Emilia’s question was referring to my proposal to stay in D.C for the night while she drove home. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I realized I couldn’t handle being in another suffocating car ride with Emilia. It had nothing to do with her - just that I needed alone time to process everything by myself. If I knew my sister as well as I thought I did, I knew she would’ve sensed something was wrong and tried to coax me into talking about it, which I was not in the mood to do. Plus, traveling for so long made me nauseous just thinking about it. Although, I didn’t have a plan, I knew that I just wanted to hail a cab and find a hotel somewhere here for the night. 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. Call me when you get home.” I tapped on the back of the truck twice to let her know she was good to drive away, and I felt the car lurch forward per my request. When the truck finally did move, out from behind it appeared the tall figure of none other than Spencer. 

I was surprised, but only for a second, when that surprise turned into pain once more. Playing it cool so my afflictions wouldn’t be suspected, I nonchalantly stated, “Here’s your jacket, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to give it back to you earlier.”

I extended my arm far enough so that we’d still have a great distance between us when he went to grab it, but sure enough, my actions were all for naught when he not only refused to remove his hands from his pockets to take it but also walked two steps closer to me than he needed to be. I looked like an idiot just standing there with my arm so outstretched, only for him to not grab it and to let it simply press against his stomach as a complete avoidance of getting it back. 

“You were supposed to keep it. That’s why I didn’t ask for it back.” He curtly replied, finishing his statements with a cheeky grin. However, I wasn’t in the mood to return it. I simply stood there and shook the jacket in my hand to emphasize its presence. 

“Take it. Please.” My voice was full of contradictions. I tried to be assertive with my command, and yet my plead only softened the order and showed a defeat I wasn’t even aware of until I heard how sad it sounded. “I don’t want it, Spencer.” 

He no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor but still wouldn’t pacify me by taking the jacket. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” His voice got quieter, as if speaking any louder would shatter me in this fragile state of being. 

“Nothing, I’m just tired and I want to go home.” This wasn’t a complete lie. I was exhausted from working for hours and hours on my feet with no breaks in between, but it wasn’t exactly the full truth either. He could tell. 

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He persisted. “Please.”

The only way I could describe what I happened next was like the vision of a boiling pot. Gradually, I was heating up until I finally got so overheated that I just boiled over and exploded. 

“What don’t you get, Spencer? I don’t want your jacket!” Fury consumed my tone. “And I don’t think your girlfriend would want that either.” 

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!” His words were flying out of his mouth at 100 mph as he desperately trying to mend what couldn’t be fixed. 

“Don’t play dumb. I saw you with that blonde girl. How close you two were standing, the way you were looking at each other.” Just having to recount the interaction made the horrid memory come back vividly into the forefront of my thoughts, and it broke my heart all over again. I shut my eyes painfully as though it would turn off the image of them together, but this only allowed for Spencer to wrap his warm hands around my upper arms and pull me closer to him without my knowing. I flinched unconsciously at the sudden feeling of his touch, to which he instantly let go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands shook with remorse for letting them touch my body in a way that elicited that reaction. They hovered in the space between us, not knowing where to go that would suddenly make things okay. “But she’s no one, okay? She’s just a coworker.” 

I wanted to believe him. I quite possibly did believe him, but there was still a sharp pain in my chest. Call it intuition. 

“No, she’s not,” I shook my head. “She’s not ‘no one’... you love her.” 

Spencer came closer but still didn’t let himself touch me again out of fear that I might draw back even further. 

“Listen to me - whatever feelings I used to have for her are long gone. She’s married, (y/n). She has a kid. And none of that even matters because the way that I used to love her is nothing compared to the way that I-” 

“Don’t.” I held my hand up in protest. “Don’t say you love me.” 

His eyebrows knit together with dismay. “Why? Why not? It’s true. I love you. I always have.” 

With one big sigh, I finally resigned to my emotions. “Then why didn’t you ever do something about it?” 

Judging by the deflation of his shoulders and the far off look he got in his eyes, he knew exactly the moment I was talking about. 

Two days after Emilia’s science fair, I drove to the library to pick up books I needed for my summer homework. I was already on my way out when I just happened to glance to my side, noticing a lone figure sitting at the bus stop. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I looked back, I partially recognized him. I shaded my eyes from the sun and squinted harder to confirm my suspicions. 

“Spencer?” I wondered out loud.

The figure’s head turned around, narrowed their eyes, and waved. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to me with a precious little jog-walk. Although we had only met once before, we still embraced each other like lifelong friends. 

“Do I finally get to know your name now?” He jokingly inquired after pulling away. 

It completely slipped my mind that I’d denied him the knowledge of my name, but for my own satisfaction, I wouldn’t let him get off that easily. 

“Do you have any guesses of it could be?” 

He pouted childishly. “Are you kidding? In a population of 350 million people, there would be about 4.4 million names. But if every country on Earth had the same nominative diversity we in the US have, that would suggest about 750 million unique names exist.”

I must admit it was fun watching him melt into a flustered mess of facts, but I was growing just as impatient as him. “Come on, just guess. You might be right.”

He rolled his eyes but indulged me willingly anyway. “Okay ... um ... Catherine.” 

“Nope.”

“Nicole.”

“Nope.”

“Gertrude.” 

“Seriously?” I raised my eyebrows. He shrugged. “Nope.”

“Olive.” 

“Pretty,” I smiled, making his face light up, too. “But no.” His smile fell. 

“This is nearly impossible.” He sighed. 

“Nothing’s impossible.” My delivery wasn’t as cheesy as the line itself, so it touched us both in a way that made that silly phrase feel like it’d never been said before. With a visible passion reignited in him, he continued. 

“Francis.”

“Okay, maybe this is impossible.” 

My blunt joke brought us closer together, our heads almost knocking into one another’s as we clutched our stomachs and leaned forward to support our all-consuming laughter. When we finally calmed down, I finally confessed. 

“Okay, okay - it’s (y/n).” 

He stood there completely silent. There was no expression of his face that indicated he planned on speaking, so I elaborated. “It’s not as good as the name Spencer, I know I know -”

“I’ve never known anyone with that name before.” His hushed voice cut into mine so innocently. 

My cheeks heated from the slight compliment. “Well, now you do. And don’t you forget it.” I teased. With nothing further to say, I brushed past him to start walking away, when unconsciously, I spun my keys around my index finger and heard the familiar jingle of the metal, reminding me of something. 

“Hey, Spencer?” I turned on my heels. “Can I give you a ride home?”

And so began our routine for the entire summer. I would bring my summer homework to the library, and Spencer would help me understand it, or even complete it, and then I’d give him a ride home. We’d go to the park and read, or we’d go to the movies, or we’d hang out at a diner. And each time, I’d drop him off. 

The more time we spent together, the more I learned about him and his life. He told me about his mom, his dad - everything. I did just the same. I told him about my mom, my dad, my siblings - everything. 

Perhaps we enjoyed spending so much time together because it was a sweet escape from our houses that weren’t homes. But every time we did hang out, we just got closer and closer, and by the end of the summer, I knew my feelings perfectly clear. 

I love Spencer. 

If missing that pool party at Melody Hanes was what it took to find the absolute love of my life, then what a small price to pay it was. I wouldn’t have traded a million pool parties for that one chance encounter with Spencer at the science fair. 

One day, we were pulling into his driveway after having a picnic at the country club, and I’d just let him out of the car, when unconsciously, I said, “Bye, Spence! Love you!” 

He caught the words faster than I did. He looked like a deer in headlights, and it took me at least two seconds more to figure out why. That entire day I’d been thinking about saying it, but by the end, I decided it’d be better not to, and yet, it just came out anyway.

“You love me?” 

There were two ways I could’ve answered. The first was to deny it and say that I only meant that I loved him like a friend. The second was to be brave and validate my unintentional confession. 

In the heat of the moment, I chose the latter. 

“Yes.” I nodded, smiling from my own courage. You only live once right?

In a cruel twist of fate, Spencer never tried to speak, and instead, ran to his front door. 

“Spencer!” I yelled. “What are you-” 

He gave me one last look over his shoulder before he opened the door and closed it right behind him. That was the last I ever saw him. 

I learned, that day, that you do only live once. 

But you can die over and over again.

From that point on, he’s lived in my mind as the one that never was. 

Regret and shame manifested on Spencer’s face. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He dejectedly began. “But I was young and-and dumb and just ... so scared. God, I was so scared.” He finally looked up, if for no other reason than to gauge my reaction. “I liked you so much, but I, I just couldn’t open myself up to the possibility of being hurt by another person I loved.”

Much like my own life, Spencer’s was riddled with traumatic experiences. Except rather than being expected to take care of younger siblings, he had to take care of his mom. And having to be a parent to your own parent? That’s something I would never wish upon anyone else. 

“I ... I get it.” It was a sweet surrender, my words. After years of pent-up aggression borne from humiliation, rejection, and deep sadness, I could finally understand. “But as selfish as it sounds, I wish your past hurt hadn’t gotten in the way of our potential happiness.” 

He took each of my hands in his, encasing them with palms of warmth. “Then don’t let the same thing happen right now. Don’t let the stupid, broken teenager I was cloud your judgement of the man I am now. Let me prove to you that I’ve changed.” 

I stood there silently, an eerie parallel to how Spencer reacted to my confession eleven years ago. 

“When I saw you, it felt like a second chance. A second chance to do what I was too afraid to do back then. And I couldn’t let myself make the same mistake twice.” His eyes were piercing through my soul. Every word plucked at my heartstrings, until I could no longer keep up with the symphony they were playing. 

There was the slightest hesitation behind it, but I did inch forward. And in no time at all, Spencer saw the movement and made his own. 

His hands released mine and shot straight for my cheeks to cup them gently, while kissing me firmly. He wasn’t the same shy boy he was, and this kiss was only proof of that. The way his lips were moving so fervently made me weak at the knees. He was so desperate and needy, like even with our lips touching, he still wasn’t close enough to me. Unleashed upon me was years of yearning wrapped in prominent lust. 

“I love you.” He blurted clumsily on my lips. I didn’t return the sentiment, but that wasn’t why he said it. He wanted to say it so I’d know, not so that I’d say it back. 

“You should know,” I muttered between kisses. “I’m not leaving D.C. until tomorrow morning.” 

The biggest smirk creeped onto his face. Bastard. 

Once we’d exhausted all the things we could possibly do in public, we ran to the nearest cab we could find and exhausted all the things we could do in that, too.

It was already past midnight when we arrived at Spencer’s apartment, and though we should’ve been quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors, we were still breaking out into a fit of giggles like a bunch of teenagers sneaking around as we ran up the stairs. We hadn’t even made it past the doormat, before he seized my hips in his hands and spun me back towards him. Forcefully, he pressed me against the door while simultaneously unlocking it. That shut me up real good, lemme tell you. 

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he gave me a reprieve when he held me closer so as to stop pinning me against the door. In an effort to do the impossible, we stumbled through his apartment in a frenzy trying to undress each other while maintaining our bodily contact. With one giant tug of the zipper on my back, my dress fell to the ground. To his atonement, he left me in just a thong. Whereas he was much too overdressed in my opinion. 

No sooner did I gracelessly unbutton his shirt than we ran into a plant against the wall. Our smiles practically ruined the kiss at the sound of the crash, but it remained nonetheless. I knew I was in for something, when Spencer paused to wait for me to unbuckle his belt. That was the first time we ever really stopped in place, but just as I anticipated, I was in for it. 

When I finally freed his waist of the garment, he just as quickly placed his hand on the back of my thigh, and in one swift motion, hoisted me into the air high enough to allow my legs to wrap around his waist. My arms were loose around his neck and the feeling of his warm hands touching my bare skin sent a chill down my spine. 

Due to Spencer’s essential hand placement on my body, I had to be the one to fumble with his bedroom’s doorknob until it finally gave way. Once more, we staggered through his room before he let our lips break apart to lightly toss me onto the bed. I giggled at the squeak of the bed, driving him visibly crazy. 

He hastily unzipped his own dress pants, while I propped myself up on my elbows. When he met me on the bed, he hovered over me to the point of having to lay back down again just to see him clearly. He felt too far away so I drew him nearer by lacing my hand through his soft curls. I twirled one around my finger, which must’ve been too merciful for him to handle. 

He placed his hand on the back of mine and slid it down to his cheek. He held my hand there for a moment, leaning into the skin of my palm prior to placing a chaste kiss on it. 

He didn’t need to say it again for me to know what he was thinking. 

I love you.

The anticipation was killing me and in the most impatient manner, I pulled him down to my level, mimicking his similar habit of face-grabbing during a kiss. I knew his hands would’ve flown to my face the way they did just minutes ago, but one was too preoccupied keeping himself up and the other was busy toying with the band of my thong. I shivered at the sensation of him slipping one finger under the material and letting it glide over my tender skin right above my heat. 

“Spencer,” I mumbled in a kiss to bring his attention back to me. Although I was certainly interested to know the hidden talents of Spencer Reid and his fingers, I was restless. I’d been waiting years for this moment, and unlike most people, I didn’t want to wait another second. “I need you now.” 

He pulled his head back so he could get a full view of my face to examine my sincerity. He wanted to know if I was sure, and my eyes told him such. He nodded in acknowledgement with such speed that I was sure he was craving this as much as I was. 

Rather than looking at where our bodies were about to meet, I had to close my eyes so I could fully feel everything without any other sense taking that away from me. In a painfully slow manner, he lined himself up at my entrance. At first, he only lightly pushed in, and it was this slacken movement that made me cry out and grip his shoulders for stability.

He pushed further in until he was fully sheathed inside of me. There was a slight moment of regret for not letting him engage in foreplay before, but that quickly went away when the pain turned to pleasure. He gained more confidence in himself with each stroke, and I could feel it. The more powerfully he thrust, the more I felt myself tightening around him. The over simulation was a stark contrast from the stimulation I denied and so the sensation I was feeling was only heightened by the absence of it before. For that very reason, I knew I was already close. And maybe he knew it, too and just as sweet revenge, he decided to send me over the edge by pulling my leg over his shoulder to thrust into me a new angle. As I’m sure he predicted, I threw my head back as tears began to prick the corners of my eyes. He rode the ever exquisite border between pain and pleasure, and my tears were a manifestation of that. Not even a minute passed, before I tried to moan but pathetically failed, not even being able finish the pitiful wail without the both of us finishing together.

Our heavy panting synchronized and reverberated back to us while he slowed down his pace and pulled out. 

Perhaps in the heat of the moment, we lost all logic and reason, considering that even up till now, neither of us had realized that he didn’t use a condom. 

But what would eventually happen in the future as a result of this action, or inaction, would surely make us remember.

Spencer lowered himself down to kiss me breathlessly; strands of his hair clung to his forehead as sweat glimmered on both of us. Not until we were ready did we make our way to the bathroom so he could help clean me up. Once we returned, I gathered my clothes, but he made sure to grab my panties before I could even notice.

“Have you seen -“ I cut myself off when I saw what was dangling in his hands.

“Looking for this?” He teased.

All my energy had been spent on him that I couldn’t be bothered to fight for them back. 

“Keep ‘em.” I smirked, my hand reaching down to pick up his jacket off the floor and hold it up. “Consider it a fair trade.”

No arguments from him. 

Needless to say, I did end up finding a place to stay the night. Where and with whom you might ask? 

Well, you can probably figure that one out for yourself. 

_ _ _

I wish I could tell you I got a good night’s rest, and I could - it just wouldn’t be the truth. 

Spencer and I spent the rest of the night just talking. We filled each other in on nearly ever second of the past 11 years, and once again, I found myself reverting back to the teenager I was at the science fair. The entire world revolved around us as we spoke to each other effortlessly, like no time had passed. Even in the periods of silence, I felt comfortable. 

Spencer and I were lying on our sides facing one another when I felt compelled to profess that “I can’t talk this way with anyone. It’s just you.” 

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a small smile on his lips. He didn’t need to say that he felt the same way because I already knew. His hand never left my face but instead made its descent down my jawline and stopped at my chin. He raised his thumb to reach my lower lip, letting the pad of his finger graze over the soft skin of my lip. 

It felt like he was tracing every detail of my body, running his eyes over every inch at least twice so as to fully commit everything to his memory.��

At last, the tension broke when he positioned his hand comfortably at the back of my neck, bowing his head forward to kiss me. This one was quite different than our first, for it was gentler and warmer. We weren’t forcing ourselves to make up for lost time. In fact, this kiss was saying, “We’ve got plenty of time.” 

Plenty of time indeed. Which we were happy to spend making love again. 

And I will be the first to admit that if our first round of unprotected sex didn’t solidify our future predicament, this time certainly did. 

Six Weeks Later ...

“Hello?” Clearly frustrated, Emilia waved her hand in front of my face to harness me back to earth. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until she scoffed at me. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry. Could you repeat it one more time?” 

She set down the papers in front of her and sighed unhappily. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant lately.” 

It hurt to hear, even though it was the truth. I wasn’t intentionally being despondent, but it’s hard to be present when there’s so much occupying your mind, and there was one thing in particular that was keeping me up late at night recently. 

My period has always been irregular. For as long as I’ve had it, I’ve always missed a few weeks, then it would become consistent, then it would be sporadic again. In fact, there was one year where I only had four periods total. So it didn’t strike me as odd when I realized three days ago that my last period was about seven weeks ago. 

What did strike me as odd was the other symptoms I was experiencing. Menstruation cycles are known to closely mimic the symptoms of pregnancy, but with the knowledge that my period wasn’t coming, it was disconcerting to me that I was suffering the discomforts without the actual period itself. 

To me, there was only one clear explanation for this anomaly. 

I was pregnant. 

Earlier in the day, I bought a pregnancy test and was late to work because of it. If Emilia hadn’t been suspicious of my behavior before, showing up late only made her suspicion greater. 

I didn’t know when I’d take it, probably at home after work, but the anticipation was eating away at me. I would pace around the truck until Emilia finally told me to stop because the vehicle wouldn’t stop swaying with my every movement. I was biting my nails and chewing on each little piece that grew back just to bite it back down to the nub. My hands couldn’t stop shaking, my breathing wouldn’t slow down. I was a hysterical mess. 

I didn’t tell Spencer any of my concerns, of course, but being as perceptive as he is, he noticed my strange mannerisms despite my best efforts to hide them. 

“Your breathing just got faster. Are you feeling okay?” He paused the movie we were watching to check in on me one time. It should be known that the scene that caused my heavier breathing was a scene of a woman finding out she was pregnant and being absolutely devastated. I quickly brushed it off as just being too warm, to which he turned on his air conditioning. Luckily for me, he didn’t make the connection. 

And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell Spencer - I really did - but why should I make a fuss about something if there ended up being nothing to worry about? That would just be extra stress, and the last thing a new, blossoming relationship needs is additional strain. 

So without Spencer, I had to opt for the next best thing - my sister.

I’d reached my wits end, and I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I was walking on eggshells with practically everyone I knew, and I’d sooner go crazy if I didn’t tell someone what I was really feeling. So in response to her question, I finally told the truth. 

“I think I might be pregnant.” 

You can imagine the shock on my sister’s face. Emilia’s jaw became one with the floor as her eyes widened so big I thought they would pop out of her head. 

“You’re pregnant?” Already her eyes were welling up with tears of joy. 

“I don’t know yet.” I put my arms around her to keep her calm and stable while the emotions began overpowering her. I wanted it to serve as a reminder to not get her hopes up, otherwise she’d get mine up, too. 

“Well, have you taken a test?” 

I reached for my purse behind her and rummaged through it until I finally retrieved the box. Holding it up, I reluctantly suggested, “I thought maybe you could be there for me when I did?” 

She squealed with joyful elation, practically shattering the window pane with the high pitch of her voice. On top of that, she was jumping up and down with elegant grace that I had to wonder how her pregnant body could even manage to do such a thing. 

“Of course, I will! Come, come, let’s go.” 

We hopped off the truck and to the nearest restroom, which admittedly wasn’t the nicest of places, nor was the place I ever imagined as a child that I’d be finding out I was pregnant in, but it had to do for now. 

When I first came out of the stall, I set the test face down on the sink, so that we wouldn’t see it until it was ready. Emilia set a timer for 10 minutes, but in the meantime, all we could do was wait. Neither of us could stay still; Emilia bounced up and down, rubbing her belly while facilitating some sort of breathing exercise. Meanwhile, I kept tapping my foot impatiently. 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Emilia’s alarm scared the shit out of me, and we both were startled by the blaring sound. It was so jarring, but even that wouldn’t compare to the fear I felt when I realized it was finally time. 

“Do you wanna look or should I?” She asked. 

“You look.” I said at first. But when she lunged forward to take it, I did, too. “No wait, I should.” Then another moment of hesitation. “No, you do it. I can’t.” 

I held my hands over my mouth while I watched her carefully lift the test off the sink, maneuvering it in such a way that only she would see the results. I watched her expression closely for any sign of a reaction, but she was stoic as can be. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, happy - nothing. Complete and total poker face. 

“Come on, Emilia! What does it say?” I blurted anxiously.

“Well, first, what do you want it to say?” 

That was a question I hadn’t considered. I was so busy worrying about what I didn’t know, to pause and think about what I wanted to find out. On the one hand, I’d be ecstatic if the test confirmed that I was pregnant. I’d jump for joy because that was what I always wanted, right? But on the other hand, if it said I wasn’t pregnant, then I’d be sort of sad because I got so close to that lifelong dream. But after that, I’d probably just be relieved to have dodged a bullet.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t know-”

“Don’t think. Just tell me. What do you want it to say?” 

Without missing a beat, I replied, “Positive.” My sister and I alike were stunned by my answer. “Yeah,” I nodded slowly. “Positive. I want it to say positive.” I repeated, to cement my earnest desire. 

Emilia’s facade melted away as she began to shake her head. “I’m sorry, (y/n). There’s only one line.” 

We both knew what that meant, even if she didn’t explicitly say it. I sighed dejectedly, which was a surprise to even myself. I didn’t expect to be this disappointed, and yet I was. The knot it my stomach worked itself free, and where that pit used to be was just emptiness. My heart sunk and steadied itself, and my breathing resumed its normal pace. 

“Well,” I bit my lip. “I guess that’s that.” 

Emilia instantly drew nearer to pull me in for a hug, one I was not ready to accept but welcomed anyway. “I’m sorry, (y/n). But I mean, sometimes tests just come out with false negatives.” With her face still buried in the crook of my neck in our hug, she mumbled, “Not this one, though. This one’s positive.” 

Immediately, I retreated from our hug and pulled her in front of my view. The sneaky girl had a huge grin that took up 99% of her face. 

“You’re pregnant!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, shaking my body violently. We embraced each other in another hug while simultaneously jumping up and down. “I just wanted to trick you so you would know how you really feel. Now you know!” 

And I did know. I did know that I wanted this baby and that I was glad it even existed. 

Not long after our mini-celebration did I start to come down from the high of my euphoria. A certain realization dawned on me like a cloud of gray hanging above my head to rain on my parade. 

What about Spencer?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

PART 2 HERE!

comment on this post to be added to the taglist for “Serendipity’s Part 2″ or click here to be added to a taglist of your choice

taglist: 

@rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @spencerreid-mgg 

[bri-notthecheese]

my thoughts on Iki Island:

(spoilers under the cut)

I really loved this DLC! I had nothing but high hopes for this after playing the base game last year (and three more times after that), and Sucker Punch didn’t disappoint. The whole time playing it I felt like it was only adding to my love of the characters and the stories they set up in the base game, and then all the new quests and mechanics added a lot of fresh fun on top of that! 

So where to even begin. 

The opening scene was super cool and a neat way to introduce the new shaman enemies. And despite Yuna only actually being in one scene, it was a delight to see her again. Though since I’m playing the DLC after finishing everything, I don't love the continuity of Yuna not accompanying him, but gameplay wise I knew that wasn’t going to happen anyway, but I just love when she’s with us <3

Went for my horse straight away and I was THRILLED to see that Kaze can now kill enemies and the new charge mechanic was way more fun than I was expecting and I was having too much fun with that. After Nobu, I didn’t expect to get attached the Kaze all that much (even if he continued on into a later game) but I was quickly proved wrong with this because I now kind of separate Nobu as the more gentler of the two, that was always there for me, and while Kaze is too, I like imagining Kaze is a lot younger and his aggressive personality in this really sold that and I like that it probably eases Jin’s worries a bit to see his new horse being able to fend off attacks a bit better. Plus, with his new armor, he’s even safer <3 Really fell more in love with Kaze in this, which I didn’t expect.

Met The Eagle next and had that whole encounter. I love how right away if you pay attention, you know Yuna isn’t Yuna because she’s never once addressed Jin as ‘my lord.’ I think the only time she said it was when she was talking to both him and Shimura at the lighthouse, and it wasn’t because she wanted to. But still, even knowing something was wrong, it’s cute that Jin’s mind went to her as a safe place who he’d have no problem entrusting stories and secrets to, which was obviously the Eagle’s goal. And hearing her voice warp into the Eagle’s was creepyyyy and so good <3  (my Yuna loving ass was sad to realize that was most likely the last time we’d see her, but that’s okay) That next part of the hallucination really got you feeling for Jin, and I couldn’t help but be frustrated that he’s only a child, how was he supposed to help?!?!? 

So I ignored Tenzo’s next mission and explored and pretty much completed the entire island. I got jump scared WAY too many times by her taunts, but I loved how that just added to the direness of the situation. I was obsessed with finding all the hallucinations and it just kept breaking my heart how Jin has all of this pent up guilt/heartache--with Ryuzo (he had so many I found), his father, his uncle, the Khan, Nobu :(, Masako, etc. I honestly had expected to find one regarding Taka and I’m a bit sad that I didn’t. Add those to the memories of his father and the ever-present taunting, I was going through it with Jin <3 At least you can pet the animals for him <3 The little smile he’d get every time was worth it. And the flute playing mechanic was really neat!

The first memory I got was their chat before Kazumasa’s death and honestly that got me all teary because Jin wanted so badly to hear him say he accepted him as his son, but deep down, would he have felt it? And my heart just breaks so much for Jin because as I kept going through the memories, I kept thinking how well 1) his dad sucks, but 2) both father figures kept wanting Jin to be somebody else. And it hurts that he was closer to Shimura’s way of thinking and how we even see that one time that Shimura corrects Jin, that his recitation of what honor means were his father’s words, and gets Jin to say that kindness is what honor means to him and wow. <3 <3 <3 But it hurts knowing their fate too <3 That while Shimura was more of a father to Jin than Kazumasa was, eventually, he couldn’t accept what Jin was doing in their way. Though it does hurt and make you wonder if Shimura was frightened that Jin was turning into his dad...I had that thought many times. (I loved seeing Adachi so much though omg <3 <3 <3) It was very interesting how the song Jin ends up playing for his father at the end of the memories is the ‘Jin Sakai’ theme. And then how that in turn, morphs into ‘The Way of the Ghost’ later on when in the final battle. 

It hurts that Jin had Chiyoko in his life for such a short time. I’m glad he did have Yuriko at least, but all of Jin’s memories on his mother and how she emphasized just living was so prominent, and her love of animals clearly passed to him and that gentleness too. And of instruments. Such softness, and I love that he retains that even as an adult. It makes sense that he doesn’t speak of his mother as often since he has far less experiences with her vs Kazumasa or Shimura, but it was nice to see her influence within him.  

Did this quest near the end of my exploration but I got the BIGGEST smile on my fave when I barged in the house to find the Ghost of Iki Island was Kenji <3 <3 <3 I love this dumbass so much and it was so nice to see a familiar face <3 Plus it let Jin have an actual full laugh when Kenji referred to them both as ‘tough guys’ XD His quests are always enjoyable for me and so I really loved that (though I was also Jin when he’s like “...you didn’t say goodbye.”) but I was happy to see him do the right thing at the end <3 THEN I got to duel the Viper because I diffused the situation instead and that was fun. Love that Jin explains his knowledge of negotiation was learned from all the years with Shimura <3 Also enjoyed spotting Kenji later in the Refuge XD

Really enjoyed all the side quests overall, loved all the animal sanctuaries, and the archery was a TON of fun! Getting the horse armor was neat, seeing Jin actively stop a Mythic retelling, though I was surprised there was no duel for that one. The one for the monkey armor was so creepy, following the lights in the cave, but so damn cinematic and that fight was incredible plus that amor is my new best friend. Seriously omg, the duels in this DLC felt so much beefier than the base game (I was playing on hard so that could be a reason, but the fights didn’t feel this tanky in the base) But that armor just made them a piece of cake if you’re good at perfect parries and perfect dodges <3 <3

Loved the banter and camaraderie between Jin and Tenzo throughout. And I really enjoyed Fune’s character as well! Did the next few story missions and I couldn’t help that sense of foreboding slipping in as I was getting more attached to these characters. Love that they had Kidafure Battlefield on the map but it isn’t till the mission that they tack on the ‘Village’, really hitting home what happened there. 

Maybe I should have been, but I did not see the twist with Tenzo coming at ALL! I physically gasped when he spoke the “May your death benefit all things” to that random Mongol and I was soooo tense, like Jin listen I know he was your dad but also Tenzo spared you. Which I love in the long run how he spared the Butcher’s child only to save him later in life, and Jin could save him and the island in return <3 Because ohhhhhh boy did I get emotional when Jin stopped the Eagle from landing that blow. 

But before that, HER FIGHT IS SO FUCKING COOOOOL!!!!!! SHE IS SO DAMN FAST AND SHE EASILY WIPED THE FLOOR WITH ME THE FIRST TWO TIMES. I also love her references to Khotan and that her moveset with the spear shares some similarities with him.  I tried once more in my Ghost armor (for fashion) and then I switched to the Sarugami armor and was flying through just to have that whole cutscene.

I know culture is different and obviously I can never understand that mindset, but to hear him say to Jin that they both should have died there broke my heart. What kind of a father wants his son’s death with him like that?!?!?!?! But I LOOOOOOVED ‘Honor and Ash’ playing in the background for that scene, as Jin is rejecting what his father may have thought/wanted (just like he did to Shimura with that track at the end of Act 2) and then it moved up a key just to reinforce that Jin is forgiving himself for this and letting go and again, forging his own path just as he did with his uncle. I loved that they used that piece for that pivotal moment...

...JUST TO KICK IT INTO AN EVEN HIGHER GEAR WITH JIN SAVING TENZO AND THE GHOST THEME BLARING IN WITH A KEY CHANGE TO THEN TRIUMPHANTLY FINISH OFF THE EAGLE!!!!! I WAS SO HYPED (and also hoping I wouldn’t die cuz how anti climactic would that have been?!?) but I didn’t and I really enjoyed the resolution between those two. I bowed to him after he bowed to me and I love that they even added dialogue for that if players do decide to do that <3 <3 <3 

The next quest with Fune was sweet, though it felt a little odd to do after defeating the Eagle, but it was sweet nonetheless. I have to finish up some trophy stuff, I guess there’s unseen quests that I’m sure I’ve done a few of, but I have to figure out what I missed. The dueling ring was fun, though that lady was the most difficult for me.

A few things of note:

-I like that in this DLC, you really can’t tell if it’s better to kill or spare Shimura. And how there are lines that could mean slightly different things to Jin depending on what he’s done. I’ve done both and I was on a file where he spared him, but besides a hallucination mentioning the Ghost being hunted for the rest of his days, nothing else pointed to one choice or the other.

-Though a line Jin said to Sugi threw me a bit when he said something along the lines of ‘you’ll never understand how hard it is to kill your family’ and maybe he was referencing his guilt for his father, but I’m like ?????? who else did you kill Jin??? Shimura is fine in this play through XD 

-Talking with her though, I like that Jin described himself as ‘someone who knows what it’s like to be hunted’ :((((((

-Tenzo also made reference to a friend of his being beheaded, but not finding the head till a week later, and asking Jin if he understands that and while the situation is different, I bet Jin’s mind went to Taka :( 

-Loved the subtle storytelling elements with Jin falling into his nightmares during the fight through the Gorge and his resolve disappears each time. The second time it happened, I verbally went “oh my resolve.....oh.”

-I do think Sucker Punch made a lil mistake though because I started thinking about how in Tale 8 of Masako’s quests, I’m almost certain she mentions Jin not understanding her need for revenge or something along those lines, and she talks about Shimura hunting down Kazamasu’s killer for weeks and how Jin had his closure. But uhhhhhh obviously his killer was never found? Or they killed the wrong one? And they didn’t mention it was on Iki Island and obviously didn’t have that foresight that they’d be doing this DLC since he was killed in the snow in the base game and now it was under a wisteria tree, but besides that small thing, I had no complaints! except for always wanting more Yuna

It was so great and I felt it really complemented the base game, especially in regards to everything that Jin feels guilty and responsible for, but also puts his relationship with Shimura is so many new lights that I loooove and I need to talk about more!!! If you read this far, feel free to hmu to chat about it because my best friend who played the base game at the same time I did and screamed with me about it has not played this yet and ahhhhh!!!!!!

[ct-hardcase]

ID: A 3 by 4 tiled square, with each tile containing an artwork I've created in the year 2021. Each artwork is labelled with the month it was made in.

I've decided even if tumblr is shadowbanning all new posts from their tags that I'm just going to post it and re-reblog a few times anyway.

My commentary, for anyone interested:

January: I straight-up spent most of a month working on this drawing alone. I'm still pretty proud of the general vibes and how it came out in the end, but I learned that I should really, really work on composition. A lot of working with this one was figuring out how the figures would balance with each other, the fire, and the trees. It still turned out well, but I could've spent a lot less time working on it if it weren't for that. February: I also drew some rwby that month (it seems so long since we've gotten any new RWBY episodes which isn't a knock on the crew, but a knock on the passage of time), but I decided to drop my picture of Voe here. I feel like I need to use Luke's Jedi Temple Grounds as a background at least once a year, and also, Voe! Fun fact: the twitter crop cut off right at where the water begins in the slightly uncensored version, hence the hastily-added bandeau to make it clear that it wasn't a blatantly nsfw art. March: I was feeling stagnant about my art (when am I not, recently?) so I did a screenshot redraw again, and though it was loose and sketchy, I really enjoyed the vibes of this one—I think it was the catalyst that pushed me into finally buying a new paint program that was a bit beefier than medibang paint. The reception on this one was also fantastic compared to the usual Eighth Brother art, so I think people just like screenshot redraws haha. April: Pyreny!!!! I've been shipping this pretty much since Pyre and Tierny glanced in each other's directions on Star Wars: Resistance, so I decided to finally put a piece of finished art to it. I really love how this one came out, and it might even be my favorite of the year. Once again, composition is key, and I was worried I had too much negative space in the bg, but the window took care of that. Also, this is one of the first times I've done a full interior background and I really love how it turned out. Also, Sumalee Montano thought it was cool, which is a pretty big plus and ego boost.  May: Is it really a year if I don't do something for a long-dead fandom? Anyway, it was nice to take a crack at John and Christopher again and some good old fashioned repressed gay romance. June: This was a fun art month for me—work was less busy and I had inspiration in spades since I'd just gotten a new paint program. There are a few solid contenders from this month, but the vibes of this one could not be beat. Also, it's nice to draw something for inquisitors who get less attention. Also, I'd forgotten how proportions worked for this and the next month? References were my lifeline. July: This one's simple (save the anatomy and perspective practice) but I like it and it looks like other people liked it too.  August: I threw this together for Remembering Resistance week in about a day since I had no inspiration up until that point. The proportions are sort of wack, but it turned out cute and okay all things considered. I have to throw this one in as an honorable mention, but I really did not want three inquisitor ones in a row, so.  September: Sometimes you just want to draw your ship kissing but not spend an entire month on it. Also, I remember about once a year that I enjoy two-toned art so this was fun. Once again, the effort piece of the month was an inquisitor but five in a row would've been ridiculous, so pyreny it is.  October: This is where the year got busy, and time (and inspiration) to draw was a precious thing. I really enjoy this one though, so I'm glad that I got to draw one good thing that month. This was the year of referencing poses, and I think that this one produced a quality product. Also, fun fact. I've drawn Eighth many times, but his armor is still a pain in the ass every time you try to draw it from a new position. November: This month was rough, buddy, but at least I drew Luke's Jedi. December: Also a rough month. Low on art inspiration, and though I've done a few sketches, no finished product. This one that I've posted is the closest I've gotten, and it's a bit of a self-indulgent sketch, so no post here.  Ultimately,

the end goal for 2022 is to dedicate more time for/have more time to do art. Have more inspiration. If my motivation isn't to draw fanart, to draw original stuff. To branch out. To work on my linework. To draw more ocs. To draw more star wars. To draw more stuff that's not star wars. I just want to draw.

[rainbowvamp]

No Body, No Crime (Mercelot)

It's 4am and some of us don't know how sleep schedules work! Here's your angst fill for Mini @mercelotweek. Sorry in advance :)

Warnings! Death of Major Characters. Merthur, but Arthur is Evil. No Happy Ending. Check AO3 for more extensive warnings.

Summary: Merlin was the love of Lancelot's life. He could stand watching him marry someone else if it meant Merlin was happy. He could not stand watching that man get away with murdering him.

Angst, Morgana&Lancelot team up that canon adherent people won't like maybe?, unrequited love, pining, one-sided Merlin/Lancelot, except I head canon that it's not

----

“Lancelot, have I ever told you that your eyes are so warm?” Merlin asked, stroking a hand over Lancelot’s cheek. Merlin is so clearly drunk, but Lancelot still feels his face warm beneath the soft touch. He knows that Merlin doesn’t, couldn’t, mean that the way he thought, not with how head over heels he was with Arthur Pendragon, but… it still made his heart skip a beat when Merlin talked about him like that.

When he doesn’t answer Merlin just keeps tracing the lines of Lancelot’s face. Lancelot knows he should stop him, when he runs his fingers over Lancelot’s softly parted lips, but he doesn’t. Let’s Merlin’s hands stroke down his neck, shoulders, and chest, so obviously taking in his muscle tone.

“You’r beefier than Arthur. Did you know that? Not by a lot, not like Percival is, but… so much muscle.” He squeezes Lancelot’s bicep, and Lancelot swallows hard.

—

“Lancelot, have I ever told you that your eyes are so warm?” Merlin asked, stroking a hand over Lancelot’s cheek. Merlin is so clearly drunk, but Lancelot still feels his face warm beneath the soft touch. He knows that Merlin doesn’t, couldn’t, mean that the way he thought, not with how head over heels he was with Arthur Pendragon, but… it still made his heart skip a beat when Merlin talked about him like that.

When he doesn’t answer Merlin just keeps tracing the lines of Lancelot’s face. Lancelot knows he should stop him, when he runs his fingers over Lancelot’s softly parted lips, but he doesn’t. Let’s Merlin’s hands stroke down his neck, shoulders, and chest, so obviously taking in his muscle tone.

“You’re beefier than Arthur. Did you know that? Not by a lot, not like Percival is, but… so much muscle.” He squeezes Lancelot’s bicep, and Lancelot swallows hard.

—

Lancelot’s been waiting for Merlin for a little over ten minutes. Merlin tends to be a bit scatter brained at the best of times, so Lancelot isn’t particularly worried, but when Merlin walks in, looking flustered, Lancelot is immediately on guard.

Merlin pulls his chair out almost violently and is just barely politely to the waiter, obviously holding back a sort of curt near-anger that Lancelot didn’t see often. He ordered a glass of wine, their usual white, and only when the waiter was gone did he finally look at Lancelot.

“What’s wrong?” Lancelot asked him, and Merlin’s blue eyes were fiery, angry in earnest now.

“The sheets smelled like perfume.” Merlin speaks through gritted teeth, and Lancelot is at a loss.

“I don’t understand.”

“The sheets. Our sheets. Smell like perfume. I don’t wear perfume, and neither does Arthur.” He glared and just barely managed to be courteous when that waiter brought him his glass. Their Tuesday dinner was a tradition, and the waiter seemed to sense something was wrong because he brought the bottle and left it on ice at the table.

It took Lancelot a few second to process that, before he finally, stupidly said, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Merlin took a sip of his wine that was more like a gulp, but Lancelot didn’t say anything about it. “I can’t prove it. I don’t know who it is, but I just know he’s sleeping with someone else. And in our bed.” Merlin was seething, and Lancelot couldn’t blame him. He’d been pining after his dear friend for years, and if Lancelot had Merlin he’d never dream of anyone else, let alone bring them into his bed.

“You’re sure there’s no chance it’s your soap? Maybe he switched colognes?” He doesn’t believe this, but he hopes, because he loves Merlin, that Arthur wouldn’t betray him like this.

“I checked the entire bathroom. Nothing. Not the detergent, not his soap, nothing.” Merlin downed the rest of his glass in one swallow and when he reached for the bottle, Lancelot put his hand over Merlin’s.

“Maybe let’s wait until we have some food, yeah?”

Merlin glared. “My husband is cheating on me. If there’s ever been a time to get fucked up on wine, it’s today.”

“Yes, and you have every right to do that, but let’s get you fed first, so you don’t overdo it.” He guided Merlin’s hand back down the table and left his own on top of it for longer than he probably should have before releasing it. Merlin was still glaring, but Lancelot knew it wasn’t him Merlin was upset with. He’d just have to deal with it. His friend needed him.

“I’m going to catch him. I’m going to make him admit what he’s doing. The damn cad. Bloody prat. Fucking wanker.” Merlin is just muttering insults to himself now, and if the situation weren’t so tragic, Lancelot would probably have laughed at the absurdity of suck language coming from Merlin of all people.

“Is there anything I can do right now? You can stay with me tonight, if you don’t want to go back.” Lancelot offered, but before he was even finished speaking, Merlin was shaking his head.

“No, it’s fine. I need to confront him, and if anyone should leave, it should be him. I’m not the faithless one, and I won’t be chased from my own home.”

Lancelot nodded and when their food came, he didn’t protest the overfull glass of wine Merlin served himself before giving Lancelot a regular serving.

—

“Merlin, you should probably go to bed. Everyone else is asleep.”

It was Merlin’s Bachelor Party. A guys weekend away. They’d done a pub crawl in London of all places, and now they were all shacked up in a couple hotel rooms (on Arthur’s dime, so they were very nice room).

“You’re not asleep.”

“I’m also not drunk off my arse.” He smiled. After the decision had been made to call a car so Lancelot could drink, he’d had a few, but he wasn’t nearly as gone as everyone else had been. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” And damn if he wasn’t kicking himself for phrasing it like that.

“Lancelot Du Lac, I’m engaged.” Merlin tries to feign offense, but he starts giggling too hard for it to be effective. Lancelot rolls his eyes even as his ears burn and he lifts Merlin up under one arm so that he get him off the bed long enough to pull the bed covers back and pour Merlin in.

“You used to be fun.” Merlin complained, and Lancelot laughed earnestly.

“No, I didn’t. You’ve just gotten more irresponsible.”

Merlin frowned but soon became distracted by the soft texture of the sheets. “Stay with me. I don’t like to sleep alone anymore.”

“I am staying with you. We already put Gwaine and Elyan in the other room.”

“No, I mean here.” He slapped the side of the bed beside him.

Lancelot was tempted, but ultimately shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Merlin.”

“Because you love me?”

Lancelot’s breath catches. The casual way Merlin says it almost drives Lancelot off the deep end. Years of secret keeping about to be toppled by a drunken night when Merlin was already engaged.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know you want it to be shecret. Shecret. See-cret.” He smiled when he finally managed to get his tongue to cooperate with him, then turned that beaming grin up to Lancelot. “I promise I love you too.”

“I-I- I need some air.”

He hears Merlin call after him as he leaves the room, but he ignores it. He can’t look at him, right then. He can’t see those blue eyes and those soft lips and pretend that he hasn’t just had his heart forcibly exposed. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t.

—

The next Tuesday, Merlin was nowhere to be found. He’d called, texted, done everything short of showing up at his house. When Merlin was a half hour late, too long even for Merlin’s scattered head, he got up from the table without eating, left more money than was needed to cover the water he’d been nursing, and went to look for Merlin.

He drove by Merlin’s work first, thinking maybe he’d gotten lost in a project except his car wasn’t there. He went inside, just in case.

Mithian, the very competent front desk worker that Lancelot suspected did more than work the front desk, smiled up at him.

“Lancelot! Are you looking for Merlin?” Her smile was just the tiniest bit tight.

“Yes. He’s not here, is he?” Lancelot feels his heart get heavy, suddenly. His chest is tight in a way it hasn’t been since his parent’s car wreck years ago. He swallows hard as Mithian speaks.

“No. No one’s been able to get ahold of him today. We called his husband, but he didn’t answer either.” Mithian has a distraught look on her face that even her usual calm demeanor can’t hide. It’s the same way Lancelot feels

“I’ll see if I can track him down. Thank you.”

“Let me know if you hear anything, please.”

“Yes, of course.” He nodded and left, making a mental list of places to visit.

—

“Lancelot!” Merlin scrambles out of bed far too early for someone as hung over as he must be. “I was worried. You didn’t come back. Why didn’t you come back?” Merlin looks him over like he might have managed to get into some trouble on his own for a few hours, and Lancelot shook his head.

“I needed to time to think. I’m alright. I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Sorry? Sorry? I put my foot in my mouth while drunk and your response is to apologize?” Merlin looks exasperated, and it makes one of Lancelot’s lips quirk up a bit.

“Sorry. Should I apologize for your foot instead.”

Merlin groaned and leaned his head against Lancelot’s shoulder. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought I’d fucked up our friendship.” Merlin’s hands wrapped around Lancelot’s waist in a hug, and Lancelot returned it easily.

“Nothing could ruin our friendship. Just… Please don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not, but I promise not to… be so blasé in the future.”

“Thank you.”

—

He drives by Merlin and Arthur’s house first, but their car isn’t there. He gets out and knocks on the door anyway, just in case. He has a key for emergencies, and he decides that this is an emergency. He lets himself in and goes straight to Merlin and Arthur’s bedroom.

He’s never been in here before, and the way that everything is clean and tidy feels wrong for Merlin. The Merlin Lancelot knows has always been messy, and chaotic. When they’d been roommates years ago, Merlin had never been able to keep his room any nicer than slightly unkempt, but the place is spotless. It looks wrong.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he goes through Merlin’s bedside drawer, looking for clues to where he might be. He tries not to think about the full bottle of lubricant he finds there, looks over the pads of paper, half written lists, books with dog-eared pages. This looked much more like Merlin.

As he’s sifting through pages, a half sheet, ripped along one edge, catches his eye.

Perfume

“Working Late”

Jewelry charge

Lipstick stains

5 months no sex

Lancelot shoved the list into his pocket on a whim and closed the drawer. Merlin had been talking about confronting Arthur. Maybe he had. Maybe…

Lancelot had never cared much for Arthur, but Lancelot could admit that even for Arthur, that would be too far. Lancelot leaves the house without disturbing anything else. Maybe Merlin and Arthur reconciled and went for a whirlwind trip to Fiji or something else ridiculous. Lancelot wouldn’t actually be surprised if they had. Merlin was impulsive like that and Arthur had money.

—

Arthur calls him later that night. Asks with the calmest tone that Lancelot has ever heard if Merlin had been by his place, or met him for dinner. Lancelot says no, and Arthur hangs up without even a pass at formalities.

—

Lancelot drives by Arthur and Merlin’s house. He means to stop, ask after Merlin, except…

Arthur’s car is missing. In it’s place is a sleek new white sports car. Nothing like the practical car that Merlin had insisted on.

Lancelot drives straight by, and doesn’t stop.

—

He hears from Gwaine that Arthur has a new girlfriend on a pub night of all nights. A woman who’s moving into the house with him. It’s been less than a month since Merlin disappeared, and Arthur had a new woman on his arm already? Lancelot and Gwaine had never been overly close, friends by virtue of knowing Merlin and being cared for deeply by Merlin, but even Gwaine seemed to pick up on Lancelot’s stormy mood.

“Don’t do anything stupid, mate. He’s not worth it. I know how much you cared for him.”

“Everyone cared for Merlin.” It’s a curt, snappish tone, so unlike Lancelot’s usual soft demeanor.

“Not like you did.” Gwaine takes a sip of his beer and calls the bartender back over, ending their conversation.

—

“And do you, Arthur Pendragon, Take Merlin Emrys to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Arthur’s tie is a bright red that compliments the blue of Merlin’s well. Lancelot can’t see Merlin, because he’s standing right behind him, in the position of the best man, but he can see Arthur, who looks… Well Lancelot is sure he’s in love, but if that were him, Lancelot would probably be on the verge of tears.

He reminds himself that everyone is different, and he tries not to judge Arthur on his wedding day. This is the man that makes Merlin happy, the man Merlin loves, and so Lancelot just has to accept that.

“I do.”

“And do you, Merlin Emrys, take Arthur Pendragon to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.” Merlin’s voice is a little thick, and Lancelot knows that means he’s holding back tears. Lancelot is holding back tears of his own, clenching his jaw to try and force his face to stay neutral. Over Arthur’s shoulder he catches Morgana’s eyes, and she looks at him in a way Lancelot doesn’t understand.

“Then by the power invested in me, I pronounce you married. You may kiss your groom.”

Lancelot looks away when Merlin surges forward to kiss Arthur, and Elyan, one of the other groomsmen, squeezes his shoulder. Lancelot doesn’t know if it’s sympathy or some strange gesture of happiness, but Lancelot uses it to ground himself while he waits for Arthur and Merlin to pull away from each other.

—

Lancelot sees Arthur and the woman as he’s taken to internally calling her later that night at the same pub. He’s sitting with Percival, nursing a glass of wine Merlin would’ve liked when he spots them. The woman is hanging on his arm, looking completely smitten, and Arthur looks like the cat who got the cream.

Percival caught the storm clouds in Lancelot’s eyes and followed his gaze before whispering “shit,” and rubbing his temples. “I think that’s Elyan’s sister.”

“I don’t care who she is. Arthur’s a bastard.” Lancelot grit his teeth and Percival reached across the table to put a hand on Lancelot’s elbow and hold him steady.

“Let’s not lose our heads. We can go if you want.”

Lancelot kept his gaze firmly fixed on them, still angry right down to his very core, but eventually, Percival squeezed his arm and broke his stare, making Lancelot snap out of it.

“I think that would be best.” He murmured, quiet in his rage to keep it from bursting form him.

“I’ll get the tab, go flag a cab.”

Lancelot nodded and left out the back so he wouldn’t have to walk by them.

—

“Morgana, I’m going to do something stupid.”

Morgana was in a black night dress, with her hair pulled back into a French braid, obviously getting ready for bed. “Well, hello to you too, Lancelot. What do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Can I come in?” He asked, not rising to the bait, and that seemed to get her attention because she simply stepped away from the door and let him in.

She walks into her small kitchen and pulls a bottle of wine from the fridge. She gestures at him with it and he shakes his head, but she still pulls a glass down for herself and fills it.

“What the problem? Does it have anything to do with a certain blonde airhead who I’d personally like to strangle?”

Lancelot tensed a bit in his chair. “Why do you want to strangle him?”

Her tone was too cool when she spoke, swirling the deep red wine in the glass in a way that was disconcerting. “He killed my brother, Lancelot. The fact I haven’t put a blade to his throat myself is only because I’ve got a child who’s very eager to come home with me. You can’t adopt with a murder charge.” Her face looks so sweet when she says it, but Lancelot can see the mirror of his own rage in her.

“You and Merlin were always quite close.”

“Closer than I ever was to Arthur. Blood only runs so deep. There’s a lot to be said for the connection of like-souls.” She smiled at took a seat at the table, made more dramatic by the flowing motion of her skirts. “So, what’s the stupid thing you’re planning on doing?”

Lancelot smiles half-heartedly. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to go to the police.”

Morgana’s smile turned evil. “Oh, do tell.”

—

They stay up half the night, and Lancelot calls himself an Uber home from hers, to establish a paper trail, as she puts it. The plan they’ve hatched is only half baked at best, but they had time to revise, make it even better.

They would avenge Merlin.

—

Merlin and Arthur have only been on holiday for three days when Morgana shows up at his flat with a bottle of wine, more food than any one person could possibly eat, and a sour expression.

“I hate that they’re so damn happy. It’s disgusting.” Morgana said, collapsing onto his couch.

The two of them had grown closer once Merlin and Arthur got engaged. Merlin was always talking about her, Arthur’s half sister who he almost liked better than Arthur, actually, too bad be wasn’t straight because if so…

“We’re supposed to be happy for them. They’re in love.” Lancelot said, but he took the bottle from her and broke the twist seal without being asked.

“Well, if my Arthur wasn’t such a cad, maybe I would be, but I know him. This is… I don’t know what it is, but it’s temporary, and Merlin doesn’t know that. It’s going to break his heart.”

“They did get married. Maybe it’s not.” Lancelot tried to stomp on the little part of himself that hoped it was temporary. He wouldn’t wish heartbreak on Merlin, even if it would give him a chance to be with the man of his dreams.

“You haven’t known Arthur as long as I have. It never bothered me before that he was like this, but I like Merlin. He’s probably one of my favorite people.” She huffed and took the glass Lancelot offered her, filled with wine.

“Mine too.” He sighed and sat down on the couch beside her.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t fair. I know you’re… well, everyone knows that. I’m sorry.”

“If Arthur makes him happy, that’s what I want for him.” Lancelot took a deep drink from his wine glass.

“You keep telling yourself that, Lancelot.” She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, picking up the remote and putting on trash television.

—

“Lancelot, have you seen Arthur? I’m sorry to call, I know you’re not fond of him after everything, but… he didn’t come home last night.” Gwen calls him frantically about three weeks later. He’s sitting at the dock with Morgana, one hand draped over her shoulders. They were expecting the call soon, so they were spending as much time together as possible.

“I haven’t seen him. Hold on, I’m with Morgana.” He pulls the phone slightly away from his ear and makes a show of informing her of the news like her ear hadn’t been practically pressed to his phone as well. “Mor, did you hear from Arthur at all last night?” He tries not to smile to himself, but Morgana doesn’t even try to hide it.

“No, I haven’t. We haven’t spoken in a few weeks, actually. I don’t really want anything to do with him.”

“He’s missing.” He says softly enough that Gwen could still hear it. Putting on a show of being concerned was actually a part of their plan.

“Serves him right. Not like he looked very hard for my brother when he went missing. He’s probably drunk in an alley somewhere.”

“Mor, come on.” He sighed and put his ear back to the phone. “Gwen, do you need any help? We can be down there in a bit. Have you talked to the police yet?”

“No. I was hoping someone had heard from him. I was going to call Morgana next. Will you just call Percival and Gwaine and them? I don’t think they like me very much.”

“Gwaine likes you plenty, and Percival is just shy. Don’t worry about it. I’ll call them. You getting his work friends?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Lancelot. I appreciate this so much.”

“Anything, Gwen.”

When he hangs up, he and Morgana grin wildly at each other, triumphant that their plan is going to work.

—

Gwaine tells Merlin that Lancelot and Morgana are sleeping together and Lancelot never corrects him. It’s not wrong, necessarily, it’s just not what Merlin thinks it is. Morgana is aromantic. Lancelot is in love with Merlin. It’s just sex. But Merlin has these fanciful ideas about he and Arthur getting to be best men at Lancelot and Morgana’s wedding, that he immediately takes back because “of course it’s too soon to talk like that, but can you imagine?”

No. He couldn’t. He couldn’t imagine standing at an alter with Merlin behind him, instead of in front of him, but he just nodded, had a sip of his wine, and said nothing.

The rumor circulates through their entire friend group, eventually. He and Morgana do spend a lot of time together, for two people who aren’t dating but are sleeping together. A part of Lancelot wants to break it off, but the small smile on Merlin’s face every time he mentions his and Morgana’s relationship keeps him from doing it.

They feel like partners in this giant conspiracy to hate Merlin’s marriage, and their connection is the only thing that keeps him sane. Well, that and the very mandatory Tuesday dinners he and Merlin always have, no matter what.

—

Watching poor Gwen get carted off in handcuffs probably isn’t supposed to satisfy Lancelot, but it does, just a little bit. He doesn’t even feel guilty, because Prison is a better fate than Arthur or Merlin had.

She looks at him with this howling anger that Lancelot pretends not to understand. She has suspected him since a couple weeks into the investigation of Arthur’s death. How convenient that he’d managed to let it slip to the police that Gwen had taken out life insurance on Arthur. How convenient that the only person who could corroborate his testimony was Arthur’s sister, who had always hated her. How convenient that Arthur had disappeared on a night where he was supposed to have plans with her but canceled for some unknown reason that couldn’t be corroborated or exonerate her.

Yes. How very convenient.

[backbracebruin]

Elias Pettersson Blurb

Hmmm... what’s this? A blurb? From moi? It’s all entirely @kallmekmk‘s fault or to her credit, depending on how one looks at it.

Disclaimer: I have not posted fanfiction since the days of Geocities and LiveJournal. That was back when you really needed a disclaimer because Anne Rice would try to sue your ass. Other than that, there is nothing here to be warned about other than sub-par writing.

High up on the things you loved about summer, somewhere wedged between barbeques with old high school friends and weekends at the cottage, was getting to spend lazy afternoons at the ballpark. There was nothing quite like taking in a game while nursing an overpriced, flat beer, getting sunburnt only on the areas of your body that the clouds were not covering, and listening to visiting fans jeer at your favorite players.

You had been coming to watch Twins games since you were little and your dad would prop you on his knee to point out the position of the players on the field. While what was once the Metrodome was now Target Field, and you no longer sat on your dad’s knee, your love for the game remained. Your dad wasn’t with you today to watch your hometown team take on the Tigers, and none of your friends had been available, so you were going stag. Not that you minded. Sometimes it was nice to have a day to yourself and do a mindless activity. Okay, well as mindless as it could be while you were still keeping track of the number of fastballs the pitcher was throwing compared to his curveball.

You were casually watching the shortstop turn the double play to end the inning when you heard a satisfied “whoo” come from your left. There weren’t many people in the ballpark that day, and that included your immediate vicinity. But you would have noticed the two blondes sitting at the end of the row regardless. The one with the shades on and a beefier build said something about going to get another beer to his more slender but no less attractive companion.

Okay, so another thing you loved about baseball games was the ability to people watch. And right now, watching the person at the end of the row as he pulled out his phone was on your agenda. He was cute, in a way you couldn’t quite place. His friend had looked like every other dudebro you went to high school and college with, but this guy looked more elegant. Like he was Legolas’ long-lost cousin.

You had clearly spaced out staring at him, trying to define his features, because you suddenly realized he was returning your stare. Had you compared him to an elf out loud? He didn’t look offended, just amused, so you reasoned that you probably hadn’t. He looked as if he was going to say something, but a loud crack followed by the shuffling of the people in your section caught your attention before you could make anything of it. You turned towards the field in time to see a softly hit fly ball coming your way. Out of instinct you ducked your head down. After you realized you hadn’t been hit by the errant ball, you lifted your head only to find that the guy you had just been ogling prior had been.

He was slumped over in his chair and clutching at his cheek, as you hopped out of your seat and practically leapt like a gazelle to reach where he was barely fifteen feet away. By now a few people had gathered around him to check on his wellbeing. You imposed yourself into his personal space without thought, trying to assess his condition. You weren’t a nurse – you had barely scraped by in your required anatomy and physiology course in college – but you had seen the aftermath of someone getting hit by a baseball before. Fortunately, this one didn’t seem to have been hit excessively hard.

Still, you leaned over him and began to ask him if he was alright. At least if he was talking, he was okay, right? “Hey, are you okay? Can you talk? Can you let me see if you’re bleeding?”

He turned his head in your direction, and despite looking a bit disoriented, he lifted his hand away from his face and you could see the red splotch where the ball had made contact. He said something, but you couldn’t quite understand him.

“Can you say that again? I couldn’t hear you and I just want to know how bad it is.”

This time he spoke louder, and you still couldn’t understand him. Frankly, it sounded like gibberish. He looked at you for confirmation, but you shook your head in confusion. He repeated himself, but still it made no sense and you started to panic over someone whose name you didn’t even know.

“Are you okay? Are you speaking in tongues? Are you having a stroke? You’re having a stroke!” At this point you were yelling in the poor, attractive man’s face as a bruise blossomed on his cheek. He seemed to take it in stride, however.

“It’s Swedish. I was just speaking Swedish,” he deadpanned. “I was just saying, ‘I’m going to live.’”

You could feel the panic over the stranger’s condition start to waiver and the embarrassment take over. “Wow. Ummm. Yeah, of course. That makes sense, because you’re so… blonde?” You internally, and probably externally, cringed and the embarrassment grew tenfold at your asinine comment.

He gave a soft smile, slightly wincing in the process. “If you’re convinced I don’t have a brain injury anymore, do you think you could help me sit up?” He started to raise his body from where it was splayed across the chairs, and you reached your hands out to wrap around one of his arms and pull him upright in the seat. He looked at you and smiled with less wincing this time, “And I thought hockey was a contact sport.”

You laughed genuinely at his crack, glad that he was coherent enough to be making jokes. A few of the people still milling about murmured “Are you okay?” and “You good?” but he just politely waved their concerns off until they dissipated.

“At least I’ll always remember my first baseball game,” he deadpanned once again.

“Oh, that’s an awful way to remember your first game.”

“I don’t know. Meeting a pretty girl doesn’t seem awful to me,” he flashed a grin at you that you could see yourself getting used to. Even moments after getting hit in the head with a blunt object he was utterly charming. “Does the pretty girl have a name?” So he was charming and bold.

You offered your hand, “I’m Y/N, your savior.”

He took it in his own and you felt warmth travel from the tips of your fingers up your arm, “Oh, yelling at me when you thought I was dying is considered saving?” he chuckled. It was deep, like his voice, which was somewhat surprising given his slight build. You blushed even more, probably redder than the spot on his cheek. “I’m Elias,” he offered.

Though his friend, Brock, eventually returned, you never returned to your original seat. Elias didn’t seem to mind as he spent the rest of the game talking with you, making sure to get your number before you parted ways at the ballpark gates.  

[crackedoutgiraffe]

To the Moon and Back

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

A/N: Chapter 14

Warnings: Smut

You invited Reid over to your apartment for a movie night, you had wanted to start watching the Star Wars movies with him. He came over with chinese food from your favorite local restaurant, “Thank you for bringing the food,” you opened the door for him.

He set the bag on your coffee table and pulled a long box out of his pocket, “I got you a gift,” he handed you the box.

“Spence, you shouldn’t have,” you opened the box to see a diamond necklace. “It’s beautiful,” you took it out of the box and examined it in your hand.

“May I?” He pointed to the necklace you nodded and handed it to him. You turned with your back to him and moved your hair out of the way. He wrapped his arm around your neck and put the necklace on for you. You turned back and started to fidget with the necklace. You leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. He looked at your lips and you looked at his before leaning in and kissing him again, this time with more passion. You rocked into the kiss. You felt his hand tangle in your hair.

You moved your leg so that you were straddling his lap. He put his hands on your hips, never breaking out of the kiss. You started to unbutton his shirt, and you placed your hands on his chest. You ran your fingers along his chest muscles. He was a lot beefier than you thought he would be. 

His hands ran up and down your sides eventually grabbing the ends of your shirt and pulling it over your head. You finished with the buttons on his shirt and slipped it off his arms. He ran his fingers down to your legs. He flipped you on your back so that he was on top. Your hands lingered down to his belt. You took his belt off and threw it to the side. Unbuttoning his pants, you heard a moan escape his lips. He stood up and finished taking off his pants. 

He positioned himself on top of you and placed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He lingered on your neck for a bit. When his kisses became more like biting you moaned into his ear, and you felt him smile while still kissing you. 

He finished up with your neck and continued kissing down your body. He paused for a minute to just stare at you and admire all your curves and how perfect you looked. When he returned to kissing your stomach he started to undo the buttons on your shorts. He slid them off and threw them to where the rest of your clothes were. 

This was one of the first times that you two had seen each other naked. Every time he looked somewhere other than your eyes, it would take him a second to snap back into reality. You placed a soft kiss on his lips and he returned it. You reached down and pulled his boxers down enough for him to break free. He grabbed the hem of your panties and pulled them down.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He hesitantly asked before entering, you nodded. He positioned himself at your entrance and slid in.

“Fuck,” you moaned at the feeling.

“Are you okay?” He stopped moving and waited for a response, you simply nodded.

He continued to thrust in and out of you, each time bringing you closer to climaxing. Eventually, you tipped over the edge and came around his cock. He came soon after. He breathed heavily on your neck before pulling out of you. 

“That was amazing,” he got off of you and walked over to where you two had thrown your clothes. He pulled his boxers back on. You got up from the couch, still dazed and went to your bedroom to change. You put on a tanktop and shorts.

When you entered your living room again Spencer was sitting on the couch eating his lo mein noodles, “So what movie are we watching?” he asked with a mouthful of food.

“The Phantom Menace,” you grabbed a soda from the fridge, “Do you want anything to drink?” 

“I’m ok,” he shouted back at you. 

You shut the fridge and went back to the couch. You set your drink down and went to put the dvd in the player. Spence had grabbed a blanket for you and put it on your lap when you sat down. You grabbed the remote and your chicken and started the movie. WIthing seconds the Star Wars theme was ringing through your apartment. You finished your food quickly and cuddled into Spencer. 

“This movie sucks,” he whispered while kissing the top of your head.

You looked up at him, “I know.” 

This time he was the first one to fall asleep. You stayed up and watched all of the action, you started to cry when Qui-Gon died. When the movie ended, you carefully got up and changed the dvd. It was almost midnight, but that wasn’t going to stop you from watching Attack of the Clones. You had turned the volume down earlier to let Spencer sleep. You thought he was going to wake up, but he was just readjusting. 

After the movie you turned off the TV and snuggled closer to Spencer, eventually falling asleep. When you woke up, you were in your bed and your clock said it was 7. There was some noise coming from your kitchen so you carefully went to check it out, “Spence, you scared me.” Reid was standing in your kitchen making you breakfast.

“Sorry,” he was holding a spatula and wearing one of the aprons you kept around. “I didn’t know how you liked your eggs, so I made scrambled.”

“Lucky for you I love scrambled eggs,” you walked over to your breakfast bar and pulled out one of the stools.

“I present eggs a la Spencer,” he put a plate with eggs, sausage, and hash browns in front of you. 

“Thank you,” you grabbed a fork and started to eat them. “These are really good,” you had to resist shoveling it all in your mouth at once.

“I’m glad you like it.” He made a plate for himself and came to sit next to you. “I have to go soon, I was supposed to go to a convention with Garcia today.”

“Which one?” you took another bite of your eggs.

“The sci-fi one downtown,” he was starting to gather some of his stuff.

You put your plate in the sink, “have fun.”

“What are you doing today?” He finished packing and went back to the kitchen.

“I’m probably going to watch TV or something.”

“Have fun,” he kissed you on your forehead and headed for the door.

“Call me later,” you shouted after your boyfriend.

“Will do,” he closed the door, leaving you by yourself. 

You cleaned up the mess he made in the kitchen, and went for the couch. The movie from last night started playing when you turned the TV on. You browsed through the menu for a while before deciding to watch Iron Man. You only watched one hour of the movie before your phone started ringing. “Hey Hotch,” you greeted your boss.

“Hey, we need you at the Colonial Liberty bank ASAP,” He sounded frantic.

[nightfury-2001]

wips of villr and tom!! the good bbs.......

still trying to figure out the design of villrs face..?? like i want her face to be more feminine than shadow’s/tom’s/etc. but like...not too feminine u know??

anyway villr is big buff scary feral lady! shes piebald and i rly need to come up w some interesting patterns for her. she likes collecting human objects (her fav human objects seem to be cups and mugs. no one knows why). she can be pretty aggressive and mean to strangers, especially other members of her kind who trespass on her territory. but!! she can also be sweet and dorky around those she loves. basically she has an actual personality.....unlike a certain......other character.....

also! recently i decided to make her a few inches shorter than shadow (shes still beefier tho!!) bc as amusing as her being like over 2 feet taller than him is i feel like itd be annoying to draw, and i feel like her being a bit shorter than him fits them better? and i dont want all of my characters to bascially be “BIG BUFF LADY” or “SMOL SLEEK LAD”, i want variety lmao. i also just think i prefer a less extreme size difference for edgehog dragons....like will prob change it to the average female being 10-15% taller/larger than the average male instead of 30-35%.

as for tom, he a good friendly boy. hes brown w/ blue markings bc i think thats unique and interesting and looks good. hes v curious and easily distracted so even tho hes not dumb he doesnt rly know whats going on a lot of the time lmao. he lives near humans and is p friendly towards them, and this is why he goes by “tom”. he heard the name mentioned by some human or smth like that and was like “!! i like that. good name. my name now.”. i rly just thought it would be funny to have an edgehog dragon have a normal human name okay?? he also may or may not have had an encounter at one point which ended in his 6′0″ not v muscular at all self running away in fear from the terrifying 7′8″ semi-beefy boi that is shadow adshgjfdjgkhdf

[angstymarshmallow]

“The Battle for Willesden” (Part 11 Of Fantasy AU, a TRR fanfic)

[A little note: I told myself I wouldn’t go to bed this time without finishing chapter eleven after agonizing over it for a week. It’s still rough, but I am honestly just excited...and tired at 3:00 am to edit over pls forgive me.  I would love to know your thoughts and without further ado, here it is! Thanks for reading :D]

[Summary: Sparrow’s betrayal has left the commnfolk of Willesden terrified. With enemies now within their walls, can Robyn (MC), Drake, Maxwell and the villagers find a way to protect this town from Neville’s cruelty?]

[Word Count: 6062]

Part 1: “The Beginning” Part 2: “The Adventurer” Part 3: “The Knight” Part 4: “The Jester” Part 5: “The Untimely Meeting” Part 6: “The Unlikely Alliance” Part 7: “The Mismatched Trio” Part 8: “The Ambush” Part 9: “The Plan B” Part 10: “The Rebels of Willesden”

The tendrils of flames licked and burned mahogany wood away; brighter than any star in the midnight sky and far brighter than any fire Robyn had ever seen. It spread quickly until there was hardly anything left, except for mountains of ash and the resonating sound of stunned silence from the onlookers that had intended to storm the mayor’s home.

Owen had led the charge, his jaw set tight with determination and his will hell-bent on forcing the man to see reason. However, at the sight of Sparrow and the mercenaries trailing behind the spy, he had ordered everyone into a heart-stopping halt. And like the rest of the villagers – he found himself unable to look away; transfixed and horrified by the fearsome image they made – the of them with Sparrow’s small and lithe figure standing in the middle. Fear kept him rooted.  Anger compelled him to stay.

From where they stood, Robyn’s own lips gaped at the intimidating display they created, but her shock was just as quickly replaced by anger. Anger and resentment for allowing herself to be deluded into thinking Sparrow cared.

The air around Robyn seemed to sizzle with the flare of her temper – a burning, nearly all-too consuming resentment that built the longer she stared. She could feel her hackles rise, could feel magic coursing and pumping through her veins – its familiar lull enticing her to speak. Forcibly, she bit into her lower lip hard enough to draw blood as her fear of spiraling out of control replaced her bitter temper at Sparrow’s betrayal.

She couldn’t allow herself to lose control. Not here. Not now.

Although, she knew Sparrow’s past was complicated and checkered, she thought their…comradery would have been enough to quell the small warnings that had rang inside her head when they first reunited at the tavern. Even worse, the gold pieces to ensure their silence did nothing to deter them.

Staring pensively ahead, Robyn realized trusting them had been a mistake. Since the very beginning, she imagined they were playing with a full deck and Robyn was simply dealt a bad hand.

She fought her way to the front of the crowd, not bothering to mutter excuses to the shoulders she bumped along the way. She was far too agitated and anxious to pay mind to anyone apart from who she was looking for. “Drake, Maxwell.” She hissed every now and then, until she had finally managed to find Owen – who looked tenser than she thought possible.

“Owen.” She called his name hesitantly and watched those eyes snapped to attention before flickering over at her in horror.

Her stomach dropped.

Shit.

He didn’t have a plan.

“Owen,” She tried again, fighting the abrupt panic she felt rising to her throat. “Owen, you need to stay calm.” She took a deep breath; trying to keep calm herself although her brain had already begun scurrying for an alternative way out of this mess.

She did not want to die today. “Are you with me?” She did not want to die at all.

The fear in his eyes held. Her fingers dug into his arm. “Are you with me?” She repeated, emphasizing every word. Slowly, she watched as his eyes changed into resolute steel.

“Aye.” He nodded.

She released a sigh, dropping her hands to her side. “Okay, good.” She couldn’t hide her relief.

She was afraid for a brief second that there had been no way to reach him. She had seen that look before, and fear as strong as that could destroy anyone. But he couldn’t stay there, there would end up with everyone dead and too many people relying on him to end up dead. “Have you seen –?”

“We’re here.” A voice interrupted.

Robyn broke eye contact with Owen to glimpse back at their familiar faces.

Drake and Maxwell met her relieved stare with one of their own. The knight’s eyes lingered a few seconds longer before his lips turned into a withering sneer and every ooze of worry had gone dry. “You told us to trust them.” His voice was accusatory and Robyn flinched.

“I know,” she mumbled weakly. There was nothing she could say in her defense, no admission of how terribly wrong she had been to trust Sparrow. Still, her lips fumbled with finding an apology adequate enough to make the creases in his brow disappear.

Drake ignored her. He had no time for such things. He shifted his gaze to Owen. “We need to get out of here.”  He stated flatly.

Owen blinked at him, as though in a daze before shaking his head vehemently. “No.”

What?

Drake stared at him in disbelief. He had to fight every nerve that was suddenly yelling at him to shove beefier man and twist his arm. Heavens, was he insane?

Drake’s jaw clenched.

“You can’t be serious,” Maxwell’s mouth flew open. He gestured behind them. “Everyone here will die.”

His voice had been loud enough to cause the crowd to stir. A single few of them stepped back while others murmured among themselves. Strangled gasps came from the rest, until Owen’s second in command – the woman with the scars had shushed them into begrudging silence. She waited patiently even with the shroud of doubt hanging in her eyes for Owen to speak on their behalf.

“There are more of us.” Owen said insistently.

“Numbers are not everything.” Drake pointed out. “Nor do they always work as an advantage.”

On that, Robyn could agree. Even with half of them gripping their makeshift weapons; she could tell by the way their hands shook that they were not well-equipped to deal with the mercenaries – people that have already killed and would kill again in cold blood without hesitating. 

“Has any of them ever fought before?” Drake responded hotly, his own temper rising with every word. He couldn’t believe their leader would so easily dismiss the two dozen mercenaries that halted to watch them from the top of the hill. “Has anyone of them even held a sword –” he jerked his chin to one villager in particular; who had been trembling violently as they spoke. “  - or struck at another man with the intent to kill?!”

“Drake –” Out of the corner of her eyes, Robyn realized most of the crowd was staring at them. All conversations of unease had fallen into a standstill to listen and she could feel the change in the air; growing tenser by the second – tense enough to cut even the thickest glass.

Drake ignored the quiet warning inside her voice. He would not dally in that likelihood, he did not want to mince his words. He had to force them to grasp what was on the line – how much danger they were in if they weren’t prepared. They had to fight to kill. They had to accept and live with those consequences, especially if the consequences meant they would not all survive. And it definitely did.

Stepping closer, Drake’s hands started trembling until he tightened them into fists and brought them to point at the larger man’s chest. “Has anyone of them watched someone else die? Someone they loved? Have you?”

“My mother died in Pinevale, the town over.” Owen’s eyes were unreadable. “She was travelling on business – for me. I was low on supplies and I needed someone to quickly slip out of town to procure some for me.” He shook his head as if struck by grief. “She left and never came back. A week passed before I heard the news….the mercenaries they…they paraded her carcass.” He lifted his chin higher. There was no longer a hint of fear inside his eyes - only fierce determination.  “I don’t want what happened to my mother to happen to my son, or my wife. Or anyone else in Willesden because the mayor doesn’t have the galls to do what needs to be done.”

From behind him, the crowd begun whispering amongst themselves; murmurs of agreement with every word their leader spoke. And Robyn felt something strange happen in that moment. In that moment, they were not a simple crowd of disgruntled villagers – they were a single entity, guided by the divine purpose of setting things right again.

And she wanted to help them.

“We may not all have experience like you sir.” Owen continued, unmasking his brunt greatsword. “But we are all prepared to risk our lives– because that is how much this means to us, how much freedom means to us and we won’t allow anyone to take away our freedom.”

The murmurs increased into cheers rose as people begun clapping each other on their backs.

Drake nodded, amazed and shocked by the sheer amount of people that willingly followed Owen. Even he was beginning to feel something inside himself stir at his words, as though this was indeed salvageable – that they could somehow come out of this alive. Truthfully, he admired him – admired every one of these villagers for not turning tail to run.

“So, what is the plan, Sir Drake?” Robyn asked, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re the one with the most experience.”

Drake surveyed the distance between them and the mercenaries – neither of which were moving. He couldn’t see Sparrow’s expression from there; but they appeared to be waiting for them to make the first move – which gave them time. “We do have the numbers,” he muttered with a sigh, “but unfortunately that’s all we have.” He turned back to scrutinize the crowd, “we should divide into two. Hit them on two fronts – with the most experienced people watching flanks.” He pointed to Owen, “you lead the first group, and I’ll lead the second. A smaller group to give yours a better chance.” He unsheathed his sword.

“I’ll come with you.” Robyn said without thinking. She hadn’t realized she had spoken aloud until both Maxwell and Drake stared at her in surprise. She folded her arms, “someone has to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”

Maxwell laughed, “have I ever mentioned how much I like you Lady Robyn?”

Drake ignored the strange flutter from her words and frowned at Maxwell’s teasing. These were things he could dwell upon later, however now was not the time to examine his feelings. He returned his attention to Owen and begun planning.

They split them into two; with Drake’s group acting as the decoy while the bulk of them lobbied behind their leaders.

None of the villagers questioned their new orders, instead they were huddled behind Owen, raising their pitched forks, brunt knives and other weapons that they grabbed in their hurry towards the mayor’s house. Maxwell had strongly implored to join Drake’s smaller and unmatched team, however the knight reassured him he would be fine. Ignoring the nobleman’s pout, he ordered him to remain with Owen in order to keep an eye on him.

Drake didn’t want to admit it but Maxwell was an excellent swordsman. He remembered brief moments of admiring his form and technique when they were younger and told the man with a gruff pat on the back to come back alive.

At least, he thought his don’t get killed transitioned well into that. He also ordered the nobleman to keep an eye on Owen. Then he joined the rest of his companions to watch in silence as Owen delivered to the crowd a final parting speech.

“I am grateful for all your help,” Owen begun with an amiable smile.  “To stand by me when you could have easily abandoned me – to stand for our cause against people that would take everything from us…no words can express how much this means, how thick and deep my gratitude runs. I do not know where the mayor is, but I know that in his place – I will always make it my vow to protect you.” His smile widened as people cheered his name, adding Mayor Owen to their chant before he moved to clap Drake’s back and then Maxwell’s. “Thank you for staying to fight with us.”

Drake unaccustomed to having people thank him, turned a slight shade of pink as he gave him a curt nod. “It’s an honour.”

Maxwell had hugged the larger man on a whim, and when Owen turned his gaze to Robyn; she gave him her own parting smile of goodbye. She hadn’t exactly shared his sentiments, or their success for surviving.

Marching to their group, Drake pretended not to notice Robyn’s uneasy stare. After a few seconds, he sighed and whirled around to face her. Her glance was fleeting as he arched an eyebrow. “Are you alright?”

She shrugged.

Realizing how soft his voice sounded, he forced a hard edge into is voice. “I hope you are planning on staying this time.” He said brusquely, “considering we were damned into this the moment you agreed with Maxwell to help that trading post.”

“I don’t think I should feel angry about having the chance to save people,” she threw over her shoulder; her eyes nearly flashing gold as she glared at him. “Knowing that we could make a difference.”

He clenched his jaw, remaining quiet.

She broke the stare first, shifting on one foot and averting her eyes towards the hill. It was nearly covered in smoke. “But I didn’t think this would happen, I don’t think anyone of us could – not even Maxwell.” Her shoulders dropped a fraction, “I certainly didn’t think I would be convincing myself to stay and fight….against a bunch of killers.” She wanted to laugh. “But I suppose I am still learning things about myself.”

“We will make it.”

He could hear the sudden despair in her voice, hear her resignation as though she didn’t share his faith. While his was wavering, he knew he couldn’t fight a way through this without placing more weight into their future. When she turned to him, her eyes were wide with fear that made his stomach clench. She – the bold adventurer, the woman with magic at her fingertips was terrified at the mere thought of their future. He would have laughed at the irony, if he hadn’t felt any sympathy.

Robyn paused, listening to his voice.

He sounded so damned sure – so damned certain that they could make it– when nearly everything inside of her was screaming otherwise. Her brain was telling her to run and her legs were telling the rest of her to flee and escape before things grew ugly.

And yet, meeting his eyes and seeing the uncanny intensity to his gaze – she knew she had all the reasons to stay. There were people counting on them, counting on her too – and she had never known what that was like.

The fear, the stress – the trepidation of ruining everything. It was overwhelming.

She felt the ghost of his fingers drift towards her hand. It happened quickly, so quickly she thought she had imagined it. But staring at him, hearing the quiet strength in his voice, made her want to believe in them too. “I’m a fool,” she said suddenly, “I’m a fool and yet I want to be anyway.”

His eyes never wavered from hers. “We’re all fools right now Robyn.” He said wryly.

The way he said her name made her warm for an entirely different reason. “I guess we’ll have to be fools together then.” Her hands were shaking, I’m too young to die – she thought to herself. I’m too young to see so much death. She felt alone – trapped in her own thoughts that begun spiralling out of control.

And suddenly, she wasn’t alone. She could feel his hand – finding her shoulder, burning through the fine texture of her blouse as the only barrier separating their skin. As she stared back at up him again, he squeezed her shoulder.

“You’re not alone.” He said quietly, “I’m here. We’re all here and we will make it.”

Drake had never been a man of many words but seeing her panic – something inside of him wanted to comfort her, to placate the fear he knew all too well. Fear that had kept him shackled when he was young, fear that even now – threatened to overwhelm him. Touching her had been a reflex – something he shouldn’t have done, but knew it was the right call once she nodded back at him. “We’ll make it.”

Robyn released a breath she hadn’t comprehended she was holding. She nodded mutely, still gathering her bearings as he stepped away and created distance between them. She slipped her silver dagger out of her pocket and ran her fingers across it, testing its sharpness. “We’ll make it.” She said finally.

He nodded back and they looked ahead.

The decision had been made.

-

Drake took his smaller team first into the fray. He raised his sword high above his head, armed with his battle cry as he led the charge towards the hill. Fifteen men and women followed behind him, screaming along with him as their feet scampered across the ash-covered grass.

They did not have to wait long.

The mercenaries begun moving as soon as Sparrow gave the order, raising their own arm in retaliation before the bandits flocked with them. They moved fluidly, as though they were one unit – and quite faster than the disorganized group still trailing behind Drake.

And yet, Drake did not allow that to deter him.

He was fighting for something again, something he believed in – and it felt good. It felt damned good for him to fight for something worth fighting for. And every swipe of his sword seemed to echo how much this would mean to people that needed it.

His battle cry had taken a few mercenaries off guard and he didn’t hesitate to rush into the first one. He slammed into him, nearly knocking the man off his feet. He wasn’t wearing armor and had to be careful, yet the way he was taught to hold his sword required a more closer and hand’s on approach.

The mercenary’s arms flayed to try and stop himself from falling and Drake took it as an opportunity to shove the shorter man back, spotting and quickly stabbing right through the weakness in his armor – a small plating that was half-broken by his leg. The man cried out as blood funneled in spurts and yet, Drake did not stop his relentless pursuit until he could sever the leg and swept through the air for his neck.

Near-by, Robyn nimbly dodged the tip of a bandit’s sword. She grinned cheekily at him and he scowled at her. He launched himself towards her petite figure, however she was prepared. Sidestepping, her silver dagger caught a flicker of light from the moon – blinding them long enough for her to stab them into their eyes.

The man grunted, falling to his knees before she kneed him hard.

The dagger in her hand shook slightly as she plunged it into his neck. She mentally prepped herself as another mercenary ran towards her.

Robyn knew she had to keep her emotions in check and yet sensing then seeing Sparrow only a few feet away; slicing clean through a villager nearly made that impossible. She was still furious at them for selling them out – especially after their payment agendas had been arranged.

Accustomed to being quick on her feet, Robyn deftly ducked a sword’s oncoming blow seconds before it could find her head. She feinted right and dug her dagger into the side of the mercenary’s face the moment an opportunity had made itself.

He cried out and she yanked her dagger noisily back before placing the weight on her front leg to shove him back. He fell without much resistance and she tore through his flesh, watching as his body fell lifelessly on top another.

Magic sizzled in her skin – seeking, aching for release as she buried her dagger through their skulls. She concentrated on ignoring its lull. It was difficult – focusing on that and on the present. But she gritted her teeth through it, and before long her mind was no longer trying to remember the familiar lingering spells she often used.

Maxwell’s rapier sailed through the air, like an instrument of death it played its deadly song before driving itself through the hearts and appendages of its enemies. It was almost like a dance in itself, a dance that needed no partner apart from the person wielding its sword, effortlessly hacking through a crowd of enemies.

The rapier fell back from the sky into Maxwell’s waiting hand as he slid and caught it between two heavily wounded mercenaries. He ended their lives quickly, jerking his wrist upright enough for the sword to break through their skin.

He a felt brief sense of guilt when he heard their cries of anguish but this was not the first, nor would it be the last of their troubles. And he had to remind himself that every flicker of guilt as he met their horrified expressions – was nothing compared to the people they killed for someone else. They had a lot of deaths on their hands, and it was time for them to answer for their crimes.

Maxwell kept one hand behind his back as another man launched himself at him and sorely missed. “HA!” He cried out in triumph.

He could not celebrate for long as he ducked in the nick of time, Owen’s sword as the larger man lumbered in his surrounding area; knocking down several mercenaries from reaching the villagers. “Yaaaaaargggg!” The larger man yelled; blood sailing through the air from the sides of his weapon.

Heavens. Maxwell thought, shaking his head before returning his attention at felling another mercenary. It was out of his knowledge why Drake had been so concerned with the blacksmith, from where he was standing – he needed to worry about keeping himself safe. With that blasted man swinging his sword around, he wasn’t sure anyone should be worried for him.

Sparrow weaved through people effortlessly and Robyn watched in quiet horror as the numbers on their side dwindled significantly. There were only five of them left – no – four as she watched another figure sag to their knees once Sparrow was done with them.

A pair of desperate screams made Robyn freeze in recognition. Maxwell and Owen were having difficulty too. Although she could not see them directly from the huddled bodies and splatter of blood and limbs; the number of villagers still holding onto their weapons and jerking them at the invaders kept dwindling by the second.

Heavens, Robyn swore.

If they were going to have any chances of winning – Sparrow had to be dealt with. There was no way around getting her removed from their list. Knowing they were the better fighter, though Robyn sidestepped at the mercenary to launch herself at Sparrow’s back.

At the last second, Sparrow’s body froze and they turned to meet Robyn’s attack head on. They lifted their arms and sidestepped her oncoming assailment and Robyn couldn’t stop herself in time. Her feet tittered and her arms flayed out in front of her as she felt a sharp pain in her side.

She dug her heels into the ground in order to stop herself from falling completely on her face, and instead whirled around fast enough to meet Sparrow’s blade with her own.

“Not fast enough little robin.” Sparrow cooed. Their eyes were wide, and their smirk almost a sneer.

“How could you?” Her own voice was lost all its calm, almost on the brink of frigidness. “How could you be apart of this?”

They ignored her.

“I know you are not above backstabbing – but this. Helping Neville to destroy all of this – I did not think you were be capable of such things.”

Sparrow snorted, switching her stance and deftly passing through Robyn’s guard. Their dagger sliced into her forearm and Robyn winced but bit her lip hard to prevent the scream that burned her throat. “Every one looks out for themselves, that is human nature.”  

“What about helping people?” Robyn winced again. She could feel something wet to her side but she didn’t care. Shoving her back, she glared. “That is human nature too.”

Sparrow scoffed. “Oh, the lies you tell yourself little robin.” They tasked. “You’re nothing like that. You’re like me.”

“I am nothing like you!”

“Always vanishing without a trace?” They prompted, edging closer. “Never letting anyone in long enough? Face it, we’re on the same side of any coin. You just won’t admit it to yourself.”

“I –” Robyn fumbled to answer. “That isn’t –”

“You may have these people fooled, but I know the real Robyn – hidden under it all. You’re just as selfish and terrible as I am.”

Maybe Sparrow was right. Maybe she was hanging too long around people that didn’t understand her. Maybe she was deluding herself into thinking this was her – someone who cared for other people. Maybe she –

No.

Suddenly standing in the middle of this field, clutching the dagger close to her chest, Robyn could remember Cynthia’s word striking true to her heart. She wouldn’t be that type of person anymore, she wouldn’t become Sparrow.

Robyn’s expression softened while Sparrow’s had grown harder. “It isn’t too late.”

Sparrow’s face fell and for a few split seconds she could see the person before they became Sparrow. A vulnerability that used to be them before the world taught them there was no black and white – only grey. And then it was gone. The mask was back in place as Sparrow took another threatening step forward. “Then die with the rest of them.”

They moved very quickly, as though they were soaring through the air instead of jumping towards her. They had almost become a blur, and Robyn managed to barely spot them in time for their dagger to sail through the air.

She met their blade with her own again until Sparrow swiped her feet from under her. “Ugh,” she cried out in pain once her back hit the harsh ground. Sparks of pain had traveled to her spine and she almost had lost her head rolling in the opposite direction of them.

“I am almost going to miss you.” Sparrow cocked their head to the side. Ignoring the chaos around them, they stalked towards her. “Almost.”

“You don’t have to do this Sparrow, you could cut ties from Neville.” Robyn implored her, scrambling to get to her feet. “You could start over.”

Their cruel smile grew. “An assassin is only as good as their word.”

Robyn’s stomach dropped. Fear gnawed at her stomach; made it hard for her to breathe past the pain stinging from her ribcage. She clutched her side for a moment as her fear rose with every breath until it had finally overwhelmed her.

She could hear it. Bells inside her ears, buzzing loudly and with such intent to replace her fear. She didn’t think – she simply listened to the whispers, she reacted. Her arms braced themselves in front of her and she tasted magic in the air.

Her fingers sparked to life.

Her knees threatened to buckle as magic coursed through her veins, flooding and pumping through her very being with the resolute power to stop Sparrow. Words that weren’t English had been clear as day inside her mind and she spoke them without hesitance – but they weren’t her. The words that had strung itself together were something otherworldly powerful. It was almost too much to hold onto, and the urge to consume it all had been well within her reach.

Before Sparrow could reach her, they fell to their feet screaming. Their hood was whipped back as though a gust of wind had struck them. But it was Robyn’s magic pouring through that staggered the assassin, and their eyes casted upwards while they collapsed to the ground. Their pale skin appeared feverish, and veins that were usually green had grown into a dark colour – pulsating with every passing second as a horrifying sickening noise escaped their throat.

But Robyn did not care.

Magic kept coming, kept pouring. It was fueled by her desire to make Sparrow pay – and she tapped into her reserves to until she had sunk to her knees. She kept feeding the spell with energy and watched as blood begun trailing out of Sparrow’s nose. She watched as their cries became horrifying screams and their ankles bent out of shape when they tried to stand.

“You do not deserve to live.”

The words came from her – but were they her?

The power she felt was electrifying – better than anything she had done before – better than anything she had felt before. Her own knees finally gave out, and she sunk inside the grass when her vision finally blurred and dimmed. She tasted her own blood, pouring towards her lip before she finally ended he spell; sinking heavily into the grass as Sparrow fell unconscious.

Robyn couldn’t tell if they were still alive, but she had done her part. Sparrow was out of the fight and by the looks of it – they were finally turning the tide in their favor.

-

As Drake cut the last mercenary that came at him by his feet, his eyes had automatically sought her. It was not something he had been aware of at first, and yet over the course of fighting; his mind had not been entirely able to focus. The stubborn mage had been plaguing his mind with worry.

He hated that he was worried. He hated that he hated it. It was confusing for him, but it was not the first time he looked for her – only to shake his head free of such thoughts. It was annoying him more than anything. It was distracting him, had caused two men to slice his shirt at the sides and now there were holes in them.

However, this was the first time he had completely lost sight of her.

And for a moment, panic had flared through his chest. Panic he couldn’t understand for someone he barely knew – but he couldn’t deny its existence. He needed to find her.

The sudden urge had nearly become a need in order to ensure her safety.

He gripped the hilt of his sword tighter as he shoved through the bodies of fallen men and women – hoping that she would not be among them.

Drake knew the smarter decision was to find Maxwell and Owen – they would need his assistance to cut off the rest of the mercenaries from taking Willesden, yet his mind kept foolishly searching for her – for any sign of her dark unruly hair beneath her red cloak.

His feet halted. He spotted her– center field with Sparrow fighting. He hadn’t known a fear like the one he currently had was capable of freezing him at this spot.

Yet it did and he wondered as they danced circles around each other if he should interfere. He had convinced himself to within seconds until apprehension at the sudden expression in Robyn’s eyes made his stomach shudder. She was going to use magic.

He saw the flare of magic – saw how much raw power Robyn possessed and it was nearly too bright to watch. Her hair had picked up, and Sparrow begun screaming – pain and fear mingling altogether. It was a true taste of fear that had almost staggered him to the ground.

He had never seen such raw power before – even the mages that had attacked Cordonia had taken sometime to affect him before kidnapping the Prince. But this…this was unprecedented. This was terrifying.

Her eyes had shone in that blazing amber gold so fiercely, that he swore they were almost too painful to look at. And Sparrow had almost withered away into nothing until Robyn had suddenly collapsed, falling immediately to her knees.

For a moment all Drake could do was stare, stare in shock, in fear – in awe. It was like watching a blazing star reaching supernova – and now that it was all over, he did not know how to feel. He did not know how to react either.

He was going to turn away, when he realized she wasn’t moving from her spot. Trying to compel himself to move, he ensured the area around her was safe enough for him to cross.

-

Robyn hadn’t heard him. Her ears were still ringing dully until she felt a hand helping her to her feet. Her first instinct was to shove the stranger away, but she had felt too weak to even manage that. Instead, she stared helplessly up at familiar face. “..Drake?” She called out weakly.

She had anticipated the flash of fear in his eyes – of hate even, if he had witnessed what she had done she expected him to run his sword right through her. She was – on all accounts, a dangerous mage.

And yet, he did not. Much to her surprise, he kept his good arm around her in order to keep her upright. “I’ve got you,” he mumbled quietly, not quite meeting her gaze. But she had already seen it – the unfamiliar look of softness before he hardened his expression. Was he concerned for me?

She couldn’t wrap her head around that. She was much too exhausted to even examine anything any further. “The fighting….” She mumbled.

“Most of it is done,” Drake’s jaw was tense. “I caught sight of Maxwell and Owen snuffing out the few that were left.”

“I guess our number advantage really worked in our favour, huh?” She had meant that as a joke but the knight hadn’t as much as cracked a smile.

He frowned. “We still lost a good amount of people,” he drifted his eyes towards Sparrow. “Are they –”

“Unconscious.” Robyn murmured, feeling his shoulders grow stiff as soon as he asked. “I think we should probably tie them up though – just in case.”

“Ah.”

She didn’t know if she should be insulted by the sound of relief inside his voice. “I’m not a killer Drake, I never have been.” She snapped defensively.

Something passed through his eyes, something she couldn’t describe before he clenched his jaw again. She winced when she felt his warm hand by her side.

A crease formed at his brow. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’ve seen…worse.” She could barely manage a semblance of a sentence. Why was it suddenly so difficult for her to speak? Her words were turning into mush, her knees growing weak again until she was having trouble standing altogether. “What-what’s…”

“You’re all out of adrenaline.” Drake said the words softly, as he scooped her into his arms. He had done so without thinking, but he scarcely convinced himself it would be easier than dragging her back.  “Just fumes now.”

“I-I’m fine, I just need –” But she couldn’t finish her thought; her world was already closing – drowning towards the edge of the abyss. She blinked rapidly. “I just need a good nap.”

“I think you’ve lost too much blood.” And yet, there was a hint of a smile in his voice that had her glancing sleepily to meet his expression.

His eyes were soft again and this time she was able to place what she saw. Tenderness. Concern. With a jolt, she understood that he cared about her – or at least, he cared enough to find her.

Drake’s throat had gone dry. A sudden lump had been where it had not been before. Look away, Walker. Look away. Yet, he could not.

He knew better than to linger too long on Robyn’s face, because despite the cuts and bruises, the dried blood – she was….she was a welcoming sight. And the longer he stared, the less sense his world made. She was shifting it. And he was terrified what would happen when he could no longer recognize it.

Yet he did not look away, did not stop himself from cupping her cheek to prove to himself she was truly here – and not under the bodies of the dead. And when she turned her face automatically to nuzzle into his hand, his throat ached.

The abrupt cheers ringing through out the hilltop had caused him to nearly drop her entirely.

Robyn placed a steady hand on his arm, and together they turned to stare at the remainder of villagers still alive a little down below; clutching one another for support – crying in triumph and laughter despite the loss of their fallen comrades.

“We won.” Drake couldn’t believe the words as he said them himself. “We won.” He repeated, grinning in disbelief. He glanced down excitedly– only to find the woman inside his arms to be fast asleep. Hugging her a little closer to his body, he slowly made his way down the hill.

While battle for Willesden was over, the knight knew this was just the beginning. Their true battle would never be over so long as Neville was alive and his hands of cruelty kept overshadowing them.

-

[lushscreamqueen]

HORRORS OF SPIDER ISLAND on The Schlocky Horror Picture Show

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Hello, good evening, and welcome to the Schlocky Horror Picture Show. I'm your host, Nigel Honeybone. Witness tonight, if you dare, a handful of girls enslaved by a diabolical human beast on an island where there is no way out! Watch him strangle his victims with his mammoth claws! One bite from a giant spider turns a man into the world's most hideous monster with a diabolical lust to kill, craving the blood of beautiful women! Shock upon shock, terror upon terror, in the blood-curdling, hair-raising, spine-chilling, Horrors Of Spider Island! And all that just from the poster art... BREAK: Dare to invade the beast's realm and prepare to witness things no human was ever meant to see...then after the ads we can get back to The Horrors Of Spider Island On The Schlocky Horror Picture Show. MIDDLE: Welcome back to the Schlocky Horror Picture Show and, well, I'm not exactly sure where to begin with The Horrors Of Spider Island. From the poor black and white photography, horrendous dubbing, low-grade production values, completely idiotic characters, stock footage padding, Z grade monster effects and sheer schlock factor, this movie is loaded with all the proper ingredients for a true cinematic train wreck. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, I find it not only watchable but strangely, and dare I say disturbingly enthralling as it unfolds. It isn't just the sight of all that female flesh on parade. Sure, a couple of the girls are curvy and cute, but I don't really find them that attractive to look at, and just a few shots of these whiny, complaining broads stomping around the so-called "jungle" will pretty much cure even the worst case of girl trouble. And Babs! Wow, look out! That woman is almost Amazonesque. In some shots she looks beefier than Gary! I could almost hear the cabin creaking and shaking in despair as she clomps around inside. Don't get me wrong, I like a woman with more meat on her bones, but she sometimes looks like it was her that ate the flight crew. A few more days on the island and Spider-Gary might not have been the only one hunting down the survivors. The strange appeal of The Horrors Of Spider Island certainly isn't because of the monster, either. Spider-Gary has got to be one of the silliest monsters, in both execution and origin, to ever grace the silver screen. He looks more like a dog-faced boy than a spider-monster, and the finished product looks like one of those portraits of inbred royalty a few centuries back that were covered in hair from head to toe. It certainly doesn't remind me of a spider. He doesn't climb walls, sprout extra limbs or shoot webs out of his backside and his so-called rampage is about as thrilling and scary as the speed humps in a shopping centre parking lot. The poster artwork for the film really makes it out that once transformed, Gary became a veritable killing machine. Well, what kind of killing machine takes a three and a half-week break between kills? That's not a rampage, that's just an annoyance. Any interest generated by this film is not because of a riveting story with earnest characters. Most of the girls seem like carbon copies of one another and the plot is as about as exciting as an afternoon doing your taxes. Most of the women are portrayed as weak, incompetent, mostly useless and utterly unprepared to survive, while the film makes it clear that all the male characters are the leaders, saviors and clearheaded thinkers. The only problem is, these guys are still morons. Gary walks off by himself and gets bitten. Moron. Bob, knowing full well that there is something dangerous on the island responsible for at least two deaths, be it man or beast, still walks off alone so he can have a private tryst with Gladys. Moron. Joe is the only guy with some semblance of a brain, and naturally the film plays him up as being somewhat inexperienced with the ladies. While we're at it, let's talk about production values, or the complete lack thereof. This film just looks terrible. I don't know if it's because the film print hasn't aged very well, or if it's because the

cinematographer should have been shot for incompetence. Some scenes are entirely too dark, even in the infamous day-for-night shots used in times past, while other shots are almost blindingly bright. Continuity was a word that was evidently not in the vocabulary of the producers. A twin engine plane later has four engines, a dead woman is at first under then above the water level of a pond, and the sun seems to rise and set at the drop of a hat. However, by far the worst continuity error is the Spider-Gary make-up. It's apparent that all the close-ups of Spider-Gary were shot separately. This is evidenced by the fact that in nearly all of them, he is standing in a black void, as if shot in a dark studio. Still, in these close-ups his entire transformation can be seen, fur covered face, dagger-like teeth, hairy hands and long fingernails. Yet in all the location shots, it's obvious that the actor is only wearing the hairy hands and claws, but his head appears as normal as ever. True, this is hidden somewhat by the crappy lighting and use of shadows, but it can still be spotted. Since this was a Yugoslavian/West German production, when the film made it's way to American shores it had to be dubbed into English. Now, who out there honestly say that they have ever seen a foreign-language film with good dubbing? Sure, some films are better than others, but depending on the original language with which the film was shot, and how it differs from English, dub jobs can get pretty bad. Horrors Of Spider Island is no exception. At times it's just okay, while at other times it's horribly bad. Some of the girl's voices are just so bland that I wonder if the same woman provides the voices for all of them, a bit like Sylvia Anderson voicing most of the female parts in Gerry Anderson productions, they all start to sound like Lady Penelope. Still, despite these setbacks, there is an overall sense of unbelievable awe at the hokiness of it all that transcends the crappy building blocks and elevates the film, just ever so barely, to the level of fun bad movie making. In much the same way people stare morbidly at train or traffic accidents, this movie compels the viewer to keep watching, if only to see where the wreck is going to finally stop. Place your bets as we enter the second scarifying part of The Horrors Of Spider Island! CLOSING: Pow! The movie is over. No "The End," no end credits, just bang, like a slap in the face, the viewer is jolted back to reality. Or maybe I watched a badly edited dud copy. Horrors Of Spider Island leaves more unanswered questions than 2001: A Space Odyssey. What happened to the flight crew of the plane? Did they all die on impact or did some survive only to die later? Were there any other passengers other than Gary and the dancers? If so, what became of them? Gary and the gang were afloat in that raft for four days before they found the island. That would be more than enough time to dispose of any extraneous people draining their dwindling water supply. Where did those funky spiders come from, anyway? Were they just some previously unknown species that was native to that island, or did the local uranium deposits have anything to do with their far-out appearance? Enquiring minds want to know! Why didn't the professor turn into a monster when the spider got him? One bite and Gary becomes Spider-monster, but the Professor remains unchanged, other than being quite dead. Maybe he wasn't bitten? Perhaps the Spider just stuck him in the web and the poor old guy died before he could extricate himself. If so, how did that little spider, as big as it is, get a grown man off the floor and into such a perfectly spun web? Or maybe it was a gang of spiders that broke into the Professor's crib and whacked him? What the devil did Spider-Gary do for those twenty-five undocumented days? No one saw or heard a thing from him. He must have eaten something! Maybe he snacked on the Professor's corpse! Still, you'd think that at some point the ladies would have seen or heard something of his presence on the island. On

the other hand, maybe he spent the whole time cooped up in that hollow tree. Yes, that must be it. After being bitten by a funky spider and turning into a Wolfman clone, I'd hide out of sheer embarrassment, too. Still, he did manage to keep his trousers in near-pristine condition all that time. No doubt he dropped his dacks and wiped his backside with something when nature called. Hey, he may be a monster, but he still has standards! Anyway, just when you thought it was safe to go back to the Public Domain I shall return next week with another brain-bursting b-grader, so please join me as I again guide you through an atmosphere-filled excursion to the dark side of The Schlocky Horror Picture Show. Toodles!

by Lushscreamqueen