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silveryinkystar · 4 years

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Some deleted scenes from my latest atla fic!

#1: In which Zuko adopts a dragon, and Mai really should be used to this by now

Just when she thinks he can’t surprise her anymore, Zuko goes and does something that proves her wrong. Like bringing home a baby dragon.

“I’m going to call you Druk,” he coos at the little coiled lump in his hands. “You’re lucky I’m here, otherwise Sokka might have called you something like Firebreather or Noodle.”

Mai has been introduced to Zuko’s turtleducks both before and after his banishment. Sokka’s not the only one who would be tempted to name a dragon Noodle.

“When Ty Lee said you wanted some time away,” Mai says conversationally, “I don’t think this is what she meant.”

He starts badly at her voice, but when he spins around to face her, he’s beaming widely. Spirits, he could light up the entire Fire Nation with that smile. “Mai! I thought you were coming back next week.”

“I got bored,” she repeats, smirking. “I missed Ty Lee, and gave my parents the slip when they said they were taking a detour. Seems like I wasn’t the only one who ran away. You’ve been up to a lot, hm?”

He chuckles. “Kind of,” he admits, and his expression turns serious. “The palace was getting to me, so I needed a break. I wasn’t intending on bringing Druk back, but I don’t mind.”

“Do the turtleducks like him?” she asks dryly.

“They love him. It’s weird, they’ve never actually seen a dragon before.”

“And you have? Before… Druk, I mean.”

He flushes, opens his mouth to speak, and closes it again.

“Zuko, that’s a yes or no question.”

“It’s… confidential?” he squeaks, flicking his gaze to the tiny hatchling winding around his hand, weaving around the limb before lying across Zuko’s shoulders like a very short scarf. It’s adorable.

She exhales. “When it stops being confidential,” she allows, “let me know before the others? And by that I mean the Fire Nation officials. I’m going ahead and assuming the Avatar and your other friends know.”

“Aang knows, but the others don’t,” Zuko corrects. “Of course I’ll tell you the whole story first.”

“Good.” She walks up to her best friend and embraces him tightly. He stiffens momentarily but hugs her back, careful not to dislodge Druk. “I didn’t just miss Ty Lee, you know.”

She can feel his smile against her shoulder. “I know. I missed you too, Mai.” He pulls away and holds her at an arm’s length. There’s a wicked smile on his face that’s somehow also completely devoid of malice. Not that she could ever see malice on him. “But you mostly missed Ty Lee.”

“One more word and you’ll find a knife on your royal person,” she warns.

#2: In which Sokka takes Zuko into the towns outside the Caldera to show him how much the place has changed

“You know what I think?”

Zuko hums and looks over from a scroll to his friend, who’s lounging on the bed with a map held above his head.

“I think the council members are jealous,” Sokka says.

Zuko raises his eyebrow. “What of?”

“Huh?”

“What would they be jealous of?”

“Oh,” Sokka exclaims, blinking in surprise. “They only have a few supporters among the nobility. Mostly in Caldera City. The people love you and your reforms, and your latest repeal of Sozin’s marriage laws won you even more favours among them.”

“There were more dissenters,” Zuko says with a frown. “I thought it was massively unpopular, even if it was the right thing to do.”

Sokka turns over and waves a hand vaguely at him, grinning like a fool. “See, that’s what I mean. You don’t care about popularity. You saw the marriage laws and knew that you couldn’t put boundaries on love, so you changed the rules. You found out why the war was wrong, and you ended it. Not without help, of course, but you did it all. You care about your people, and they know it.”

Zuko doesn’t know what to say to this, so he resorts to throwing a cushion at his friends face for having him confront feelings. His indignant yelp is a sound that leaves him chuckling for a good minute, so he lets it slide.

But the matter isn’t done yet, at least according to Sokka. On the last day of his visit, Zuko finds that there are no meetings scheduled for the day. He thinks he’ll spend some time in the gardens with his friend, like old times, but Sokka seems to have other plans.

“You guys have fun,” Suki says with a kiss to Sokka’s cheek and a clap on Zuko’s shoulder. “I’ll catch you later.”

Sokka pulls Suki into a proper kiss on the lips before he calls out a quick goodbye and drags Zuko out of the palace.

“Have you been to the towns and villages before?” Sokka asks as they make their way down the slope of the inactive volcano housing the capital city.

“Not nearly as much as I’d like,” Zuko admits. “I’ve been around the capital and Ember Island, but there wasn’t any reason for me to go down to the rest of the Fire Nation.” By reasons, he trusts Sokka understands that he means Ozai had strict rules to stay within the city limits.

“Huh. That’s not great.”

“I went to one of the towns once with my cousin, though,” he adds, expecting the familiar pang in his heart at the mention of Lu Ten before it hits him.

“He’s one of the good ones?” Sokka guesses.

Zuko smiles sadly. “He was like an older brother to me. You know, he was the one to tell Mom and Uncle that I was good with swords?”

“No way.”

“Ozai knew that I was leaving for a change in instructors,” Zuko continues, “but he never really cared either way at the time. He only really became a problem when Uncle and Lu Ten left to fight.”

“Ah.” Sokka rests a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly, and Zuko knows to draw comfort from the gesture. He misses Lu Ten dearly, but the sting of loss is numbed, now. He can think of his antics with his cousin during his early childhood without the accompanying sorrow threatening to overwhelm him.

They’re at the base of the volcano now, so Zuko slips up his hood. His hair is free of its topknot and falls over his scar so that he can blend with the crowd unremarkably. There’s no sign that he might be discovered, though, and no repercussions even if he is (except perhaps from his guards, but Ming won’t really mind once she understands why).

The first thing he notices are the sounds. There’s laughter, chatter, and the occasional yelling interspersed with off-key music. He’s already taken aback by how different it is from when Lu Ten helped him sneak out one night when his parents were away with Azula.

“I…”

Sokka smiles and loops an arm around his shoulders. “You haven’t seen anything yet, buddy. You’re going to love this.”

The wind blowing around them is cool enough to be uncomfortable, so Zuko tugs up his collar and raises his internal temperature to compensate. Sokka seems to be unaffected by the chill, which is only to be expected considering his friend spent most of his life in harsh southern winters. They stop every few paces to look at what the roadside stalls were selling, and more than once Sokka actively considers the merits and demerits of buying something they sell before deciding against them, moving forward, and darting back only to walk away again.

The fifth time this happens, Zuko finds a permanent solution in the fire-dancers performing in the streets. It’s his turn now to haul his friend over to them, and Sokka is all too willing to oblige as Zuko watches the performers exaggerate their movements with graceful bending.

“You know, this was pretty cool in the Fire Days Festival too – spirits, are you okay?”

From how distressed Sokka suddenly looks upon seeing his face, he automatically reaches up to touch the scar only to find his cheeks wet. He hadn’t even realised he was crying, but he scrambled for an explanation to keep the other boy from panicking.

“I used to watch the fire-dancers with my mother every year when we went to Ember Island,” he says, swiping at his eyes. “I always wanted to learn their bending style, it’s much more flowy than any other form of firebending. And… it’s been a while since the Fire Nation was this happy outside of festivals. And, well, Ember Island.”

Sokka nods slowly, but he doesn’t look any more placated.

“I guess it never really felt real to me,” Zuko mumbles, ducking his head as his eyes start to burn and glaze over once more. “I’m always stuck at meetings or fighting the council to pass a reform that would help my people, but…”

There’s a lump in his throat that stops him from speaking further, but Sokka leads him away from the crowd gently and finishes it for him.

“You never saw how your decisions impacted your people.”

Zuko manages a strangled chuckle. “They’re happy,” he whispers.

Sokka holds him an arm’s length away, hands firm on his shoulders. “That’s what I wanted to show you,” he says. “They’re healing, and they’re happy. I know most of the people you see are the ones who benefitted from the war, but when we were making our way to the capital before the eclipse, we noticed that it had left its mark on the Fire Nation too.”

Zuko nods, thinking about how he’d received news of an important weapons factory suddenly stopping production because of some problem with the river it was located on. He’d investigated it further and had declined to deliver that information to Ozai once he heard how badly the nearby town had fared.

“We’re the ones who instigated the war,” Zuko says, slumping against the wall of some building. “There were so few people who didn’t suffer for it.”

Sokka slides down next to him wordlessly. It’s not self-deprecating for him to say this – it’s the truth, and Zuko’s doing his best to make up for his ancestors’ terrible choices. They weren’t mistakes, not when each tragedy piled up on top of each other with the sickening, deliberate motive painting them red with blood.

He’s going to help the world heal, and if that starts by healing the Fire Nation? Well, that’s all for the better.

#atla #sil's stories #extras #fire lord of redemption arcs #MAI #boomerang and ideas guy #atla fic

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queentargary3n · 4 years

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unfaithful

Summary: Sakura is surprised to see Sasuke is the senior associate of the firm she is supposed to start working for. All of her feelings start to come back 10 years after he abandoned her. Sasuke finds out somethings are truly never behind you, and when he starts falling back in love with her, his past comes to hunt him. Her biggest issue? He is already married

Sasusaku Fanfic AU Lawyers. M

Chap 3

Sasuke was angry. Angry at Naruto for putting him down like that in front of their whole firm, for being forced to work with his mistress! For accommodating her in the office right across from his, where he couldn't help but to stare at her all throughout the day; He was also angry at himself for choosing glass panels when decorating the firm, making said visibility possible, and perhaps at his own inability (or reluctance) to close his curtains to stop it.

He was exhausted, he barely had any sleep the night before. Her teary face came to him every time he attempted to close his eyes, saying please don't leave over and over. Images of the nights they spent together in their youth, fumbling around each other, full of inexperience and desire came to him, causing him bodily reactions he didn't really want to have, and making the couch where he slept incredibly uncomfortable. Other images started to fill his mind after, images of his friend fisting a handful of pink locks from behind while be grunted against her. It was nauseating really.

He remembered Sakura as a pure little thing, who didn't even dare to make excuses to her parents to be able to spend more time with her boyfriend because it was dishonest, and liars were the worst kind of people. And now there she was, having an affair, ruining a marriage between two of the best people Sasuke had ever met.

And really what other explanation could there be for all the special treatment? Naruto was that kind of person, he knew. Overly friendly and generous, but he'd never seen him been so extremely affectionate with anyone other than his wife.

He would have to go speak to her soon enough, if there were going to be working on the case. It was almost 5pm and there she was seated on top of her desk, her short dressed rising even higher showing up her creamy long legs, gossiping away with Yamanaka as she had done the entire day. Sasuke decided he couldn't waste more time in other people's indiscretions, he had work to do, so he walked to her office, briefcase in hand and said "Sakura with me now, Yamanaka I need the prosecutors list of witness for the case before you leave for the day" and continued walking toward the elevator without looking back to see if she'd followed.

Sakura grabbed her purse and hurried to him. "Where are we going, boss?" She asked squeezing in between the closing elevator doors he hadn't bothered to hold for her.

"Coffee" he answered coldly.

Once the doors closed, she leaned her back against the wall, crossing her arms in front of her chest and said "Listen Sasuke... I ... I don't know if you remember, but... back in high school I was..."

"Why wouldn't I remember?" He interrupted. Of course, anyone would be perfectly able to remember their teenage sweetheart of 4 years, even if it was a whole decade later, barring an aneurysm or something.

"I just... thought... you didn't seem to recognize..."

"Do you always stutter this much now? It's annoying" Sasuke said rudely. Looking to his phone to avoid looking at what he knew would be a blushed, indignant, Sakura. He stepped outside right as the doors opened.

Instead of taking a place in line to order, Sasuke sat down at a table, pulling out documents from his briefcase and organizing them into piles. I thought we came for coffee... Sakura thought, standing in front of him, fidgeting with her bag.

"I'm going to get a latte; would you like anything?" She asked.

The raven-haired man didn't even look up as he said. "Coffee, black"

Okay Mr Arrogant. She thought, dragging herself to the task on hand.

Sakura returned quickly with two coffee cups, and a cupcake in a small paper bag, which for lack additional hands, she had to carry with her teeth.

The table was completely covered in piles of documents by then, no space so that she could set down the cups.

Ignoring her predicament, he started. "Court starts tomorrow at 8am sharp, be there early, judge Hatake is presiding, he has a hatred for unpunctuality that rivals my own, so don't be trying to pull things like this morning" which was a lie, of course, judge Hatake was notorious for his constant tardiness.

And just how did he know I was late? She thought. He wasn't there was he? The small paper bag was starting to slip past her teeth by then, still not able to put the cups down.

"I need 4 chronologically organized sets of copies of every document in this table, bound in different folders with cover sheets" He could've easily have asked his assistant to do the work, maybe if he'd been able to concentrate at all that day he would have, but he was forced to take a second chair and he wasn't going to give her an important task just because she was hooking up with his friend. If anything, he'd do the opposite. Give her the most menial task he can think of, to keep her occupied enough to stay out of his case.

She noodled quickly in response, forgetting for a second about the bag she was biting down on. It only took that one second, the cupcake bag slipped past her lips, she instinctively tried to stop, swinging her entire arm to the side to prevent it from hitting the table, she didn't want the original documents covered in frosting, but of course, her hand was already occupied, the sudden movement causing the cup to spill piping hot coffee right on Sasuke's chest.

"What the F... arrrg " he gritted his teeth as the scalding liquid hurt like hell. He stood up quickly trying to separate his drenched shirt from making contact with his skin.

"I'm so sorry Sasuke-kun!" Pulling out a handkerchief from her purse and pressing it to his chest and stomach, trying to at least soak up some of the offending liquid. "I was just trying to..."

He glared at her, taking the handkerchief from her hand abruptly. "Save it" Sasuke said between his gritted teeth. He grabbed his suitcase and walked away, leaving a mortified Sakura behind.

He didn't return. After an hour passed it became evident, he wasn't coming back, so she went back to offices to complete the work he had ordered her to do. The lights were out and the offices completely empty. Sakura couldn't help but to cuss at herself internally for what a terrible first day she just had.

Sasuke walked into his apartment to his wife and Suigetsu, one of the paralegals of the office, sharing a drink on the kitchen table. A common event at the residence.

"Hey Sasuke, looking terrible today, what happened to ya?" Said the white-haired man, grinning like an idiot at the sight of the usually immaculate Sasuke, stained in coffee.

"Spilled coffee" he offered no more explanations in return. He simply walked into the bedroom grabbed a fresh shirt and went toward his home office.

He paid no attention to his wife, who did not acknowledge his entry either. She was dress in boxers and a thin white tank top, and Suigetsu thought that any other man would be angered at the scene of his wife scantily dressed in such company, no matter what the state of the relationship.

He couldn't even begin to feel guilty for ogling at his friends wife.

It should be pointed out that Karin was an attractive woman, red fiery hair, voluptuous, he noted how thin the material of her shirt was, leaving nothing to the imagination. It was no secret Suigetsu had a thing for her, and the fact that she only had eyes for Sasuke, at least in the past, only made him want her more.

Karin said nothing as she prepared some tea and offered Suigetsu a cup with a gentle smile on her face. He knew her very well, from before and after Sasuke, and gentle smiles where not exactly Karin's thing. And from her attitude towards him, the way she carried herself, and the blankets and pillows in the couch inside Sasuke's office, he determined with certainty that Karin hadn't had sex in a very long time. That thought definitely made him smile.

Sasuke walked confidently inside court room number 10, exactly 30 minutes before the scheduled trial, which meant he should still have about an hour before Judge Kakashi deigned to show up, he was expecting to find it empty. He almost twisted his neck when a light shade of pink caught his eye.

She was seated on what was supposed to be his chair, leaned back as fair as the chair would go with her legs rested on the table. She smiled enthusiastically at him upon seeing him, said. "Morning boss" and handed him a cup.

"I'm not your boss" he said taking the offered cup with distrust and standing next her and waiting for her to move.

"Sure... listen Sasuke, I'm sorry about yesterday" she said lowering her legs at the same time and moving to the adjacent chair.

"Hn" he sat next to her. "Where are folders I requested"

"Here" Sakura answered, handing him one folder instead of the four he'd requested. "I did you one better and figured you were asking for them to submit to the plaintiff, the judge and records, so I sent them this morning, this is your copy, please note the index and numbered pages I created for accessibility"

"Hn... how obsequious of you" He answered unimpressed.

Sakura knew what he was trying to pull. She figured he would try to give her tasks, that one would consider to be beneath her, until she decided to give up being second chair to his case. He wasn't happy about her presence, and made no secret of it at the meeting, and she wasn't exactly thrilled to be working with him. But she'd be damned if she walked away from a case because of a man.

"Also... I was studying up on your strategy, and I think it's very good, but I think we should focus I but more on the ..."

He didn't allow her to finish. "I don't need advice from beginners"

Jerk. She thought but she held her tongue. She didn't know how long Sasuke had been working on this case, but he must know what he is doing, he was always the most competent person she knew.

The trail started, and Sasuke seemed to be dominating, exuding confidence as he walked in front of the jury. Everything about him screamed I know what I'm doing. From his exemplary posture, to his perfectly tailored dark suit, to his eloquence in questioning the witness. He ended his questioning and gave a little smile to the jury, half of which was already smitten with the handsome raven-haired attorney.

Taking full advantage of his looks huh. He never used to do that when younger, he always seemed to consider the attention his looks attracted unwanted and annoying. I guess whatever helps you win the case, right?

Even the plaintiff's attorney seemed to be infatuated with the dark-haired man, she blushed when he looked at her on the way back to his seat.

"No more questions for this witness your honor" Sasuke said as he sat down. Fully confident that his line of questioning went exactly on the direction he planned for the case.

"Ammm actually I have a couple of questions for the witness, if I may..." Sakura announced for the judge.

"You May... Miss?" Judge Hakate said, eying the pinkette attorney, who stood up nervously.

Sasuke's eyes were wide. He looked at her menacingly and said. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice almost a whisper, his arm moved to stop her.

"Trust me okay?" Sakura answered to him.

"No!" he whispered. But she roughly shook off his hand that had grabbed her by her blazer. And then to the judge, "Haruno Sakura, your honor"

Sasuke was pissed, she looked back at him after walking passed him and towards the podium, his eyes almost had a tint of red, he was so angry.

"Doctor... please explain one more time, why is it that Doctor Senju's procedure to restart the patient's heart once it had stopped is out of the norm" Sakura asked, addressing the Hospital Board director that Sasuke had questioned mere seconds before.

"Well the standard procedure is to use a defibrillator, continuing CPR and oxygen intubation, until either the patient is either stable or irreversible cessation of the heartbeat is determined. Senju ceased CPR after less than 2 minutes, and proceeded use a scalpel to open the patient's chest cavity, inserting her entire hand, and pumped the patient's heart by hand"

The jury and the crowd gasped at his crude explanation.

"But it saved the patient's life did it not?"

Sakura said, eyeing the plaintiff seated next to her attorney.

"Technically yes, but it's a highly risky technique, less than 5% survival rate, and in this case unnecessary, as I covered at length with your colleague just a few seconds ago, I think it was Tsunade's ego wanting to prove herself a better doctor"

"Yes, thank you I heard" She gave him a kind smile, and looked over to Sasuke, who was still scowling at her. Obviously working as a team was something new to him.

"So, let's go back to the beginning, Ms. Terumi wanted the surgery to enhance her breasts, something went wrong with the anesthesia, and she entered into cardiac arrest" Sakura said addressing the jury in a light tone, and then turned to the witness one more time. "Of course, any procedure that requires general anesthesia comes with its risks, it's common knowledge and disclosed in advance with the patient before the surgery. And rather than let her patient, and may I say friend, die, Doctor Tsunade determined it would be best to save her life even if it left Ms. Tekumi with an unsightly scar, I mean, if this is not a frivolous lawsuit I don't know what is, wouldn't you agree doctor?"

Sasuke was impressed, even if he tried to push the thought to the back of his head, she had deviated from his strategy, taken over his case! but the regality to which she seemed to be handling the questioning was... hot.

"I would not. Doctor Senju knew the proper procedures and chose to ignore them! She knew how important her appearance was to Mis Terumi! As an underwear model, the scar could seriously hinder her career, she derailed her whole life, and for what, for her ego or perhaps envy?" The expert witness said, he was vicious, he knew just how to surprise the jury with scandalous accusations.

"Doctor do you know why doctors' advice not to use illicit drugs before a surgery, in fact they require that a patient needs to been "clean" for a least 6 months before preparing for any surgery? of course you do, but I'm going to tell our jury, the risk, in this case for cocaine abuse and undergoing general anesthesia is that it can cause tissue compression, compartment syndrome, and neuropraxia. Did Ms. Terumi mentioned that she used to have a big cocaine problem?"

"Well... it was not... in her medical record" the doctor was stuttering now.

"Well it is here, medical record from last year, hospitalization due to cocaine overdose. Of course, she didn't disclose that to our Doctor Senju, but is it unreasonable to think she would still be using and that Doctor Senju noticed the side effects of the drug abuse after going under anesthesia? And that with the risk of using a defibrillator and causing pulmonary and cardiac necrosis, she decided the best course of action was to take an unorthodox but less damaging approach?"

"I... would need to see.."

"So, isn't it a bit narcissistic of your part to project your egomaniac tendencies to a kind doctor who was trying to do her best to save her friend!?"

"Aaam objection... she is badgering the witness..." the opposite attorney interfered, trying to save a bit of face in a case she knew she'd already lost.

"I'll allow it... Answer the question doctor"

"Ahem... perhaps"

"Thank you, nothing further your honor" Sakura said, walking back to her seat practically bouncing with adrenaline. It almost didn't matter that Sasuke was still giving her his look of doom. Because from where she was seated Tsunade was giving her a proud-knowingly smirk, and Judge Kakashi was smiling at her. She was so giddy.

"The court will call for the evidence of Ms. Terumi hospitalization for drug overdose, and perhaps even a drug test to confirm accusations. We will reconvene tomorrow 9am, for closing statements and delivering of verdict if the testing is ready by then, meeting adjourned" Said Judge Kakashi, taking a stand to leave, but not before looking over his shoulder to the attractive pink haired attorney, and gave her a little smile. It wasn't very often Hatake Kakashi was surprised.

Sakura saw him, and in return offered him, what she knew to be the most dashing smile at her disposal.

Moving up to a judge I see. Sasuke thought.

Tsunade Senju, took a stand to shake Sakura's hand. "That was very impressive. I don't remember that information being on the packet I presented to your firm"

"Hehe thank you" Said Sakura, shaking her hand enthusiastically, even before college, she had heard how legendary Doctor Senju was, she deserved the best defense possible.

"I recognize your type anywhere Miss Haruno." Said the blonde woman, squinting to her as if trying to see her more clearly. "I'll be getting in touch with you, maybe we can get a drink something"

To say that Sasuke was annoyed would be underestimating the ordeal. He was used to getting the congratulating elations, not having to share into the spotlight with anyone else. He took special notice in the looks judge Hatake gave the tiny pink haired girl. It literally made him groan. Why am I so worked up about this whole thing? So, what if she was having an affair? Or two? What was it about that, that makes me so... angry? He thought.

With everyone waking out of the court room, he took his leave as well, gathering his paperwork into his briefcase, not even glancing over to Sakura, she was at least expecting some snarky comment or something about her bold actions.

She caught up to him in the parking lot. About to get into his luxurious but understated black car.

"Sasuke! Listen I know I might have crossed some boundaries, but I think..."

As usual, he didn't let her finish. "You think?! You derailed my case!"

"You're going to win the case thanks to my argument, what do you mean derailed!?"

"I just... I don't know who you think you are to just waltz in here and do as you please! Flirting with judge Kakashi to get an advantage! Cheap!"

She was officially offended. "Didn't I just see you flirting with the jury a few moments ago?! What the hell is your problem with me? Is because we used to..." Hypocrite

"You just think you can come here, to my firm, take my case, and I'll say nothing, just because you're Naruto's whore!"

She tensed at the insult. Looked down and tried but failed to remember her anger management techniques.

"Asshole..." she exhaled, the word almost a whisper. And then she moved, too much in close proximity to Sasuke for him to react.

Her fist made contact with his cheek. Hard. Sending him stumbling back against his car. She felt the bones of his cheek bone crack a little.

But couldn't feel concerned about his wellbeing. What kind a person says that!? She thought and simply walked away to her own car.

Sasuke heard the delicate clacking of her high heels as she walked away. And thought, for what would be only the second time in his entire life. I might have fucked up.

Thank you for reading. Please don't forget to leave your thoughts in a comment. Constructive criticism is always appreciated!

Story is unbeta'd

#sasusaku #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku fanfic #sasusaku fic #sasusaku smut #forbidden love #sasusaku au #Sakura Haruno #sakura uchiha

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otonymous · 5 years

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Proof Of Life (MLQC Gavin - NSFW)

Description: What will it take for you to finally notice Gavin? Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Trigger warnings: breakups, near death experiences, physical aggression, violence Word Count: 2846 words (~14 mins of smut, hurt-comfort) AO3: read here Author’s Notes: Hi everyone! I got a few requests for a NSFW MLQC Gavin story, so here it is! Hope you all enjoy it, and happy reading! 😊

Tagging: @kitsune-mana @shogetsus @illysanna

All characters & Mr Love: Queen’s Choice owned by Elex.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Several sharp knocks on your windowpane tell you all you need to know about who you would find once you opened your eyes. But you were glad you remembered to draw the blinds the night before, because the last thing you wanted was for Gavin to see you as you are now: hair a messy nest, eyes swollen and red-rimmed, and yesterday’s outfit a wrinkled mess on your body.

“Why can’t he use the goddamn door like a normal person?!” You think in irritation as you drag yourself out of bed, running a hand over your hair and pulling on a house robe before you snap back the curtains.

Sure enough, there he was, the officer smartly dressed in his uniform and giving off an air of authority despite the nonchalant way he leaned against the ledge of your balcony, a plastic bag in hand. Mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton, you swallow hard before sliding open the glass door.

“Good morning, Gavin. It’s kind of early—“

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

He says, immediately brushing past your shoulder to enter the room. A gentle breeze follows him, ruffling the curtains as he had so often ruffled your hair. And as he casts his gaze on the mess that is your apartment, you shudder to speculate on his thoughts about your current living conditions: lopsided piles of notebooks sprouting across the floor, clothing strewn haphazardly across your unmade bed and couch, and empty cup noodle containers littering the kitchen.

Bringing your hands to your face and wishing you could hide forever behind them, you massage your temples, hoping to ease the building tension that would surely worsen once Gavin opened his mouth to speak the same lines he had been repeating for the past few weeks since —

“Lucien has left. The man is gone, he’s not coming back. And nothing you do is going to change that. So why do you keep torturing yourself like this?”

He turns to look you square in the face, the usual warmth of his eyes replaced by burning indignation on your behalf, flashing with anger that you yourself still could not bear to direct on the man who disappeared without a trace, leaving nothing but an empty apartment and an equally empty promise to never leave your side.

Gavin was right. Of that fact, there was no doubt. But still, you could not help but feel compelled to continue seeking out the dark-haired genius who captured your imagination and stole your heart from the very moment he told you to trust your instincts.

The heart wants what it wants.

And so you threw everything into trying to locate Lucien, foolishly allowing the rest of your life to devolve into little more than subsisting on the barest of necessities.

The officer’s face softens at your silence, broad shoulders dropping as he finally relents and thrusts out the plastic bag he had been holding, the most delicious aroma wafting from within to remind you of your hunger.

“Your favourite breakfast combo from the place up the street: congee and shrimp rice rolls. All those cup noodles can’t be good for you.”

You fight back the sting of tears when you take the bag from him, hoping his sharp eyes will miss the shake of your hands as you open the styrofoam containers, saying,

“Thank you…Gavin.”

Lips tugging up into a small smile, he reaches out to tuck an errant lock of hair behind your ear before saying, “Hurry up and eat. I’ll give you a lift to work.”

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So it was that weeks became months and verdant summer bled crimson into fall, and every time the wind whipped past you on the back of Gavin’s motorbike, your grip on the professor loosened until you learned what it was to let go of another important person in your life.

You had no more leads to follow when it came to Lucien’s whereabouts, and even his peers at the research institute were at a loss to explain the professor’s sudden sabbatical leave.

But through it all, Gavin stayed by your side.

He was there when the last of your hopes had been dashed, fingers intertwining with yours to tentatively squeeze in solidarity as you left Loveland University with more questions than answers. It had been his arms that held you in their firm embrace when you threw that jar against the wall, the glass shattering to litter your apartment floor with tiny folded cranes and even tinier shards of glass. The officer had watched, silent and solemn, as you cried for Lucien one last time, reaching out hardened hands to brush away your tears with the softest of gestures.

The school terror had become your constant companion, and the windblown smell of his denim jacket a source of comfort: warm and familiar whenever Gavin unceremoniously draped it over your shoulders as soon as you showed signs of feeling chilled in dropping temperatures.

But the seasons weren’t the only thing to change.

Little by little, you began to notice things about him that escaped you before: smiles that lit up his face just as he’d turn from your direction, the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks whenever you thanked him for escorting you home. The way you felt to see him linger on the street below your apartment, waiting for you to wave through the window before finally riding off into the night…all despite having seen you to the door.

And each and every time your heart skipped a beat, the flutter scared you. For although you had given up on Lucien, the wound of losing him was still painfully fresh, and it was not lost on you that Gavin had been the one to patiently draw you out from that place of darkness where you had been wallowing.

But what if lightning struck twice?

Would you lose Gavin too, the way you lost Lucien?

The thought was too much to bear — to lose a lover but also a friend — so you chose not to think, ignoring it like you ignored the longing in his hazel eyes every time you shut the door without inviting him in, your fingers tracing the golden ginkgo leaf on your wrist that still held the heat of his touch.

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It all happened in breathtaking clarity, as if time had slowed enough for you to see Gavin whip between yourself and the man in black — the scent of blood permeating the air as a bullet burned through flesh and nylon before embedding itself into a brick wall.

By the time Minor’s face appeared before you — eyes wide and lips moving a mile a minute — you heard not a word he said, so fixated were you on the crimson marring the pristine white of Gavin’s windbreaker, the radius of this ugly spot growing larger each time his bicep flexed to handcuff the suspect pinned beneath his knees.

Yet, in the resultant commotion, the officer’s eyes sought yours to confirm your well-being even though he had been the one to sustain an injury. And it isn’t until his brows furrow in concern that you realize you had been shaking from head to toe, your body acutely processing your fear before your mind could even catch up to what it was that scared you:

Gavin hadn’t even been wearing his bulletproof vest when he moved to cover you without a second thought.

Minor drapes his jacket over your shoulders, drawing you from your reverie.

“It’s okay bro, I’ve got the boss! You go ahead and take care of that scum…and your arm too! Get to the hospital!”

“Where the hell were you, idiot?! Didn’t I tell you not to leave her side?!”

Minor slinks behind you, trying to hide from Gavin’s scowl.

“I turned around for one second and she was gone, I swear! How was I supposed to know the boss would go running after a little girl crossing the street and get attacked by this loser?”

“Screw up again and it’s your last time!”

“Okay, okay! Whatever you say, bro!”

The exchange between Minor and Gavin was typical, and as a member of this triad of Loveland High alumni, you were usually amused by their antics. Currently, however, you could barely find the strength to speak, let alone laugh.

So you let Minor escort you home in the officer’s stead, craning your neck to stare at Gavin’s retreating figure through the rear window as the car pulled away from the scene of the crime, feeling less shaken by your brush with danger than the one thought that torturously echoed through your mind:

Gavin could have died.

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Patient.

He really was so patient. Much more than you deserved.

For Gavin remained still as a statue as your hand wound about the collar of his white tee, the other scrunched into a fist that beat repeatedly into the hard plane of his chest. Even still, it was from your eyes that tears spilled, ceaseless and hot…eyes that saw only Gavin.

You knew it now, felt it deep in your bones from the moment your fear of losing him stole your reason to turn desolation into blinding fury, one that made you rage the second you saw him at your door. And with one yank on his denim jacket, you had pulled Gavin into your apartment, pushing him until he lost balance and ended up on the couch with you straddling his lap, fists flying with wild abandon.

“What were you thinking, throwing yourself in front of me?! Who the hell do you think you are?! Superman? Are you invincible?!”

Thud. Smack. Thud.

The officer sits without reacting, stoically taking every shot you have to deliver.

“Why would you go that far, Gavin?”

The heat of your anger finally dissipating through sore fists, the question leaves your mouth in a whisper — tears dripping down your face to glance off the apple of Gavin’s cheek before they, too, trace the lines of his jaw.

“You know why.”

His voice is low and raspy, and you wilt under the intensity of his gaze, turning your face away before you drown in the depths of his eyes, dark with emotion.

“Don’t look at me, I’m a mess.”

Calloused fingers gently tilt your chin back in his direction, Gavin saying,

“You’re always beautiful…but even more so when you’re crying for me.”

He sweeps a thumb across his cheek, gathering your tears to bring them to his mouth, and you are entranced by the pink tongue sweeping out to taste the salt of your frustration.

“Even your tears are sweet, just like you.”

“Gavi-“

The name barely leaves your lips before it is swallowed up by the soft plushness of his, the officer angling his face in a bid to move even closer, tongue exploring your mouth with an unfathomable hunger that leaves you breathless.

Losing yourself in his kiss, you feel the press of his solid chest against your breasts as he shifts to lay you on the couch beneath him. And when he pulls back to rip the jacket from his shoulders, the white tee thrown off in one frenzied motion, your fingers seek the heat of his skin, desperate for proof of his existence.

Desperate to confirm that Gavin was alive.

He clasps your hands, pressing a reverent kiss to each palm before bringing them to his face, allowing them to slide past his Adam’s apple, down the broad smoothness of his chest, running along the muscular grid of his abdomen…until they stop at the leather belt looped around the tantalizing V that drew your eyes to the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Feel me. I’m here with you — always have been and always will be. Don’t be scared. I’m not going anywhere.”

A flood of relief stings your eyes anew, and panic flashes across Gavin’s face for an instant before he bend over you once more, whispering as he kisses your tears away,

“Shhh…it’s okay…it’s gonna be okay…”

Never in your life did you imagine this would happen, that you’d have the boy feared for his pugilistic skills lying between your legs, hands roaming hot and hungry over the curves of your body but, frustratingly, keeping above the silk of your blouse.

Hence, you took it upon yourself to undo the buttons, fixated on the bob of Gavin’s throat as his eyes followed the minute motions of your fingers, the officer’s lips parting in awe to see your breasts heaving with anticipation beneath your bra until that, too, was discarded. His voice reaches out like the touch of a tentative hand when he says,

“This is more than I’ve ever dreamed of, but...are you sure this is what you want?”

Through a rapturous haze, you watch as flecks of gold melt in the warmth of hazel eyes that examine you carefully, searching for any sign of hesitation. And that’s when you knew you didn’t have to hold back.

Wrapping your arms around Gavin’s neck, you draw him closer to whisper in his ear,

“I love you.”

The sudden ruffle of your curtains startles you, as do the papers on your desk that swirl like leaves caught in a fall wind before settling to the ground in a messy pile. And when Gavin gently cups your face to refocus your attention, the last thing you see before his lips seal upon yours is the exhilarated joy that lights his face from within, the officer softly laying his reply onto the corner of your lips:

“I’ve always loved you.”

Biting into your fist, you try to keep your moans from escaping when you look down to see Gavin kneeling on the carpet, strands of silken brown hair tickling your belly with the slightest movement of his head between your legs, his large hands stroking the length of your thighs to leave trails of goosebumps in their wake.

Each time his tongue flattened to run along the pink flesh of your folds, trembling and wet, you slid further down the couch until your legs found the support of Gavin’s shoulders and his hands gripped your buttocks to knead and spread — lips and tongue continuing to taste your arousal with gusto until it smeared shiny across his face.

And when the tension built to reach its apex with every flick of his tongue on your clit, Gavin kept you suspended on that high until he inserted one finger…then two, to curl within your depths and pull the trigger on your climax. You came violently, convulsing around his hand and bucking into his face as waves of pleasure coursed through your body, ripping the moans from your mouth and adding another shade of crimson to his cheeks.

The officer stands, one hand whipping off his belt as the back of the other wipes across his shiny lips. You barely have time to gasp as you take in the sight of his sizeable erection before Gavin is wrapping your trembling legs around his tapered waist.

“I’ve wanted this…”

The heat of his cock is searing as Gavin presses against your pussy, smooth head sliding up and down the length of your folds to gather the arousal that dripped in abundance even as you continued to twitch from your orgasm.

“…wanted you…”

Pressure, as he pushes insistently for entry. The stretch of your skin when you start to take him within your body, accommodating the man who was willing to die for you.

“…for so, so long.”

Gasp.

Your eyes roll back when he finally sheathes himself within you, the officer’s breath coming in pants moist and hot by the side of your face. He hisses through clenched teeth to feel the scrape of your nails down his back before he recovers to say,

“Could you cry for me again?”

With that, Gavin thrusts deeply into you to bury himself to the hilt, each stroke from his powerful hips reaching greater depths than the last until your eyes watered from sheer intensity of sensation, mouth falling open in a silent scream before it is sealed by his lips.

Every bead of sweat that rolled off his shoulders to evaporate from the heat of your skin. Each muffled groan against the shell of your ear. The slippery friction that moved within you to send you to ecstatic, new heights. All these things told you, without a doubt, that Gavin lived.

And when he finally shudders, you spasm to feel the heat of his release, convulsing around him for the second time to draw him closer to you than ever before.

Pressing his forehead to yours as he slowly descended from his high, Gavin says, “It’s true. I meant every word I said.”

You nod, kissing him in response. For the thunderous beat of his heart already told you everything you needed to know:

Gavin is alive. And he is yours.

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Thank you so much for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #MLQC Gavin #mlqc baiqi #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fic #mlqc smut #fanfiction #my writing #elex

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thatwitchrevan · 5 years

Text

Spinearl week day one: First Meeting

In which Spinel is still touch starved and Pink Pearl is still traumatized but they’re both very sweet.

Spinel let out a long sigh as she deflated onto the old, worn sofa in the middle of Blue and Yellow Pearl’s house. Her arms fell loosely around her and drooped over the couch onto the floor and her head fell back against the top of the backrest. She had to admit, Earth furniture was kind of nice. “Where’d you say you got this again?”

Blue sat down primly on the short table facing the couch, crossing her legs and resting her folded hands on top of her knees. The table itself was covered with various sketchbooks and art supplies, as well as a couple of microphone headsets. “Steven brought the furniture to us. He got it from somewhere called a ‘thrift store.’”

Yellow hummed an agreement, coming to stand beside the corner of the table next to Blue. “Yes, he was very excited about us moving to our own home. And eager to help us ‘settle in,’ as he put it. He offered to get us new furniture but I said it would be just as well to expend fewer resources for the same thing, so here we are.” Yellow then frowned as she moved on to another thought. “Anyway, Spinel, while it’s nice to see you, of course, there’s something I ought to tell you before you get too comfortable.”

Spinel sunk further into the sofa, her eyes sliding shut as she let her mind drift. “Yeah, yeah, sure,” she pretended to agree, but rather than listen she focused on relaxing as much as possible. Life with the Diamonds was great in a lot of ways, but in a lot of other ways it was hard. Being back at the palace, being in Pink’s room again, even knowing that the Diamonds thought of her as something of a replacement for their lost loved one... It was good to get away from all that, pretend for a moment that none of it existed. She was lucky Yellow and Blue had this place, even if it was much smaller than anything in the palace.

Spinel was beginning to fall asleep when she heard footsteps heading into the room. Puzzled, she peeled open one eye to see what was going on. Then she jolted upright, opening both eyes and rubbing them as if to make sure she was seeing correctly. The intruder was another Pearl, pink with one broken eye. Spinel had seen her on several occasions before, but not like this. “Who?-”

Yellow nudged Spinel with her foot. “That’s what I was trying to tell you, but you fell asleep! We have another guest today.”

Spinel blinked at the Pearl, who blinked (winked?) back at her. Spinel was suddenly self-conscious about the way she was sitting, the way she looked, about everything. She quickly stood up, flustered and confused, and continued to stare at the Pearl for a moment before speaking. “Uh...hi?”

The Pearl frowned slightly, grabbing her arm just above the elbow. “Hello,” she answered. Her voice was impossibly soft, completely different than it had ever been when Spinel had heard her speak before.

Spinel moved around the table and came a little closer. “Are you...were you White Diamond’s Pearl?”

In the past, this Pearl’s expression had been permanently blank, with an empty smile. In the moments since she’d stepped into this room, it had been calm but subdued. Now, though, her face flashed with anger and her hand tightened on her arm. “No! Not White’s! I was Pink’s!”

Spinel stepped back a bit. She couldn’t have expected an outburst like that from such a meek-looking Gem. But after the initial shock wore off, she felt herself warm to the Pearl. “Sorry, Pinkie. I didn’t know.”

Pink Pearl deflated a bit. “No, I’m sorry. You must’ve seen me with White hundreds of times. I know it must be confusing. But I don’t want to explain it right now...maybe another time. Or Yellow and Blue could tell you. I don’t mind.”

Spinel held up her hands and cocked her head to the side, giving Pearl a goofy, warm smile. “Hey, it’s okay, I get it. You don’t have to explain anything. Let’s start over.” She extended her hand, stretching her arm to cover the several feet of distance between them. “Nice to meetcha, toots. I’m Spinel.”

Pink Pearl giggled, and Spinel felt her cheeks heat a bit. They warmed even more when Pearl let go of her arm to shake Spinel’s hand. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m Pearl.”

Spinel grinned and retracted her hand when Pink Pearl released it. She focused her attention on both of Pearl’s eyes so as not to embarrass her any further.

“I’m sorry about Pink,” Pearl added, startling Spinel. “I heard about what happened to- what she did to you. Yellow and Blue told me.”

Spinel struggled for a second not to say anything angry or rude. Her emotions still flared when anyone mentioned her and Pink, but she couldn’t take it out on people she was trying to be friends with. Instead she shrugged, another half-hearted goofy grin on her face. “Ah, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

Pearl shook her head. “It’s not nothing. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but you deserved better than that.”

Spinel flushed again, remembering something similar that Steven had said. You deserve a better friend. Did she, when she’d attacked the first person who’d shown her any kind of friendship? Maybe it didn’t matter so much, if she did better this time around. She chuckled lightly. “I guess we’ve both got things we’d rather not talk about. Maybe we should start a club.”

Pink Pearl beamed. She came closer, finally bridging the distance between her and Spinel. She stood in front of her for a moment, studying Spinel’s face like she could learn something from it. “Would it be too weird if I gave you a hug?”

Spinel felt like her Gem had stopped working, preventing her from being able to think straight. She was surprised she didn’t turn limp and flop to the ground like a pile of noodles. “Uhh.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Life is weird. Hugs are just nice.”

Pearl seemed to like that answer. She wrapped Spinel into a warm, loose hug. Again Spinel could hardly think, but she managed to wrap her arms around Pearl in return, letting herself relax. It was actually really, really nice being hugged by someone around her size.

Almost too soon, Pearl drew back, but her hand lingered on Spinel’s arm for an extra second and she smiled reassuringly. “I’d better go, but I hope I’ll see you again soon. We really should talk when we’re both ready.”

Spinel just nodded, unable to say anything back. Pearl squeezed her arm and then she was walking away, saying goodbye to Yellow and Blue and leaving their home. Spinel stayed rooted where she was, all kinds of thoughts and emotions whirling in her head, until Blue Pearl gave a delicate false cough and regained her attention.

“Huh? What?” Spinel blushed, looking between Yellow and Blue, who were now both sitting on the end of the table next to each other and both seemed oddly smug.

Yellow smirked at her. “Well, that certainly went well. I’m relieved you two didn’t have a fight.”

Spinel made a face. “Why would I wanna fight her? She seems great.”

Blue giggled behind her hand and the curtain of her hair. “You really like her, don’t you?”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous! She just seems cool, is all.” She crossed her arms, trying to appear indignant, but as her gaze drifted to where Pink Pearl had been a moment ago, her expression softened and she ended up resting her chin in her hand, thinking warmly of how nice the encounter had made her feel. Maybe she’d just met her new best friend. Maybe Blue was right and there was something else going on there. And maybe they were all being ridiculous and sappy and traumatized, but if it meant Spinel had another new start, she figured she was okay with that.

#spinearl week #su #su fic #spinearl #griffin writes #spinel #pink pearl #pink pearnel #so headcanons this is based on:#yellow and blue pearl live NEAR the diamond palace in a house of their own (together) having just recently moved there #pink pearl lives pretty far away (though probably still on homeworld) and she pretty much got out of there #as soon as she recovered physically from being a puppet for thousands of years.#pink pearl is really sweet and kind but she can still snap sometimes when people refer to her as white's #also this is just canon but spinel gets attached to people SUPER quick #thanks for reading and please please reblog and comment if you like this thanks #my aus

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onhirel · 5 years

Text

A Chance Meeting

“Pfft. Look at those preppy girls.”

Sucy’s voice was dryly cutting, and Amanda looked up from the display of instant noodles at the supermarket at her friend...well, more accurately, her acquaintance. Sucy still scared her after the frog incident in biology, and she just wasn’t certain what Akko saw in the other girl. But, be that as it may, Sucy was part of their clique at school, and the six of them had decided to pick up some snacks and stuff at the store after school. “Preppy girls?” Amanda asked absently as her attention returned to the noodles. She was trying to decide on whether to get the big box of chicken flavored noodles, or splurge and get the individual packets and go for a variety of flavors like oriental and shrimp. Funny, though. She knew most of the preppy girls that went to their school, and couldn’t care less about them. Kinda surprising that Sucy would even mention them...

“Yeah, looks like they go to that prep school over in Blytonbury, that really hard to get into one.”

“You mean Luna Nova?” Amanda asked, hopeful surprise flitting through her as she turned to look down the aisle, but she didn’t see anyone that matched the description.

“...Yeah,” Sucy said as she narrowed her visible eye at Amanda. “Kinda weird to see you excited about them,” she said, and then grinned evilly. “You wanna prank them?”

Amanda hesitated. She hadn’t really mentioned Hannah to her friends, despite texting Hannah pretty regularly since they met at the fair. She had grown to appreciate the other girl’s sharp wit, and was very quickly considering her a long distance friend. Well...not really long distance, per se, she was only thirty minutes away, but they hadn’t had the chance to meet face-to-face since that night in the fair. It would be awesome if she were here at the store. Wouldn’t that be a coincidence!

Then she blinked, reality crashing down around her. It would be a coincidence for Hannah to have made the trip to Glastonbury just to happen to be at the store at the same time as her. It was almost a mathematical impossibility. And if some stuck up Luna Nova kids were hanging out in the store, then why not prank them? “Alright,” she said, a mischievous grin taking to her face. “Let’s go find the others.”

Five minutes later found them huddled with Cons, Jasminka, Akko, and Lotte as they explained their plan to prank the Luna Nova students. Lotte looked worried and slightly disapproving, but that was pretty normal for her. Cons looked...well, like Cons, dour and stern, and Jasminka was still smiling like she always was as she ate from a bag of salt and vinegar chips. No, it was Akko who was obviously the most excited about the idea of pranking the preppy girls from Luna Nova.

“What do you think, the bait and switch?” she asked, excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet, and Amanda grinned.

“Sounds about right. How about...condoms and lube?”

Then Sucy piped up, face decidedly evil. “And a cucumber...and like, the biggest zucchini you can find,” she said, and Jas nodded before making her way over to the produce section.

“Guys, I don’t know if this is a great idea,” Lotte cautioned, and Amanda scoffed as she waved a dismissive hand.

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s just embarrassing, no one’s gonna get hurt. You and Cons keep an eye on the targets, Akko and I will go get the condoms and lube.

Lotte just sighed heavily and nodded begrudgingly. “Fiiiine.”

It didn’t take very long after that, and soon she, Akko, and Jas were peering around the corner of one of the aisles at the four girls wearing the Luna Nova uniform, looking over various bags of chips and the like, and Amanda grinned wolfishly. Perfect! Then she blinked as she realized that one of them looked familiar, and it took her a moment to place her. That’s right! She was the dark haired girl who was with Hannah at the fair. Amanda felt annoyance prickle across her at that. Figures that she would show up and not Hannah! At least the other girl from that night wasn’t here, and she didn’t recognize the other three girls at all. Alright, now, how to distract them without them catching on that something was up...

“Amanda, is that you?”

She just barely bit back a startled yelp as she jumped, and the boxes of condoms (and not the standard, lame ones, she went all out for this...ribbed, studded, pretty much the most exotic of the selection they had at the store) fell out of her arms, clattering on the floor. She spun, heart pounding, but then froze as she recognized the sight of Hannah.

Oh.

Oh my.

It...it wasn’t fair for her to look like that! The baggy hoodie at the fair had hidden most of her physique, but the Luna Nova uniform that was cut to her form did no such thing, and Amanda almost started to drool at Hannah’s broad shoulders and very well muscled arms. Okay, looking like that? She could totally believe that she was the champ wrestler at Luna Nova. Okay, down girl, you might still be able to do the prank.

But then Hannah’s eyes flitted down to the floor where the boxes of condoms lay scattered, and then to the lube that Akko was holding and the *ahem* phallic vegetables that Jas had. “What are you doing?” she asked, voice obviously confused as she peered down the aisle and towards her friends.

“I...well, you see...we were just...” Amanda stammered, glancing at her friends, who seemed transfixed by Hannah’s appearance. And why wouldn’t they? Because dayum! No, wait, down girl! Stay focused!

Hannah frowned slightly. “Are you...trying to prank my friends?” she asked, and Amanda flushed. She was generally good enough at this sort of thing to not get caught so obviously red handed. Grimacing, she gave a short, terse nod, and tried to brace herself for the disappointed scolding that was sure to follow. But then, to her surprise, Hannah grinned as she crouched down to pick up the condom boxes. “Alright, I’m in. Here,” she said as she handed Amanda back the boxes.

“What?” Amanda asked, almost dumbly.

Hannah rolled her eyes, a smile still on her lips. “Your prank. I’m in on it. It’ll be funny. Now, I’ll go up and put these bags of chex mix in the cart and distract the others. Once Babs, Avery, Mary, and Blair have their attention on me, you guys come up and put your stuff in the cart. Think you can quietly get them underneath the bags of mix?”

Was this actually happening? Was Hannah, who had absolutely no right looking that hot, btw, really going to help them prank her friends? “Uh, yeah, we should be able to...”

Hannah grinned, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Perfect! Alright, you ready?”

The next few minutes were spent in heart-pounding excitement. True to her word, Hannah went first and dropped her stuff into the half full shopping cart before directing the attention of her friends at some of the other products on the aisle’s shelves, and the three of them quickly and quietly made their way to the cart. Heart pounding with the fear of getting caught, Amanda was nonetheless able to silently lift the bags of chex mix, allowing them to deposit their cargo into the cart. A quick glance up revealed the other four Luna Nova students with their backs still to them and Hannah smirking slightly as she debated the merits of sour cream and onion chips versus salt and vinegar. Mission success!

They wrapped their shopping up after that, wanting to get done ahead of the Luna Nova students. They managed it, and were waiting in the area just past the registers as the preppy students started to get their items scanned. You could almost count down to the moment when the contraband was revealed, and Amanda had to bite her cheek to keep from howling with laughter at the first horrified screech that the black haired girl from the fair let out when she comprehended exactly what lay beneath the chex mix. She whirled on her stocky, auburn haired friend with an indignant: “Hannah!”

For her part, Hannah was able to maintain a look of innocence as the others timidly plucked the offending items out, their faces bright red. “What? It wasn’t me! I mean, come on, it’s hilarious, but I never had the chance to, and you know it!”

Amanda had to turn away at the point. “Come on, girls, let’s go,” she urged, eager to get away so that they could all laugh properly. So Hannah was apparently the prankster of the group. God, could she be anymore perfect?

They were in the parking lot, all piling into the station wagon that Akko’s mom let them use when she heard her name being shouted, and she turned to see Hannah waving at her excitedly. Quirking a brow, she glanced at her friends who were watching her with curious eyes, and she realized she’d have to explain just who Hannah was now. But Akko grinned before making a shooing motion with her hands.

Shrugging, she jogged over to where the Luna Nova girls were standing around a big and very expensive looking SUV. “See?” Hannah was saying to the black-haired girl from the fair, “I told you I saw Amanda, Barbara.”

Barbara was watching her with narrowed, suspicious eyes, a residual blush still on her cheeks. “What a coincidence,” she muttered dryly.

Thankfully, three years in the drama club served Amanda well in this situation. “Hannah?” she asked, the picture of confused innocence. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Blytonbury, what brings you out to our little town?”

Hannah grinned. “Oh, nothing much, just having a house party with an acquaintance who lives out this way,” she said, and for a moment, Amanda’s blood ran cold.

“Oh? Who’s that?”

“Frank Casterly,” she replied, and Amanda almost let out a sigh of relief. Oh, good, the Casterly family. They adamantly refused to get involved with her brother’s, ah, business, and were all of them fairly clean cut.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Amanda said, nonchalantly stuffing her hands into her pockets. Then a thought suddenly struck her. “Oh! Hey! What are you guys doing in a couple of weeks?” she asked, barely able to keep her excitement at bay.

“What, like, in the beginning of October?” Barbara asked.

“Yeah! See, our high school’s drama department puts on a haunted maze every year at the fairgrounds for a grade. We have a lot of fun doing it, and we’ve even been regularly rated as one of the scariest haunted mazes in the entire state!” she boasted, puffing out her chest proudly. “It’s the last year for a lot of us, and so we’re going to go all out this year! I figured, why not invite you and anyone you want to bring along?”

Barbara looked unsure. “I don’t know, it doesn’t seem like something that Diana would be too interested in...”

Hannah, however, looked really interested. “Oh, come on, you know how she keeps saying she doesn’t get scared at anything. Horror movies don’t even phase her. I wanna see how she reacts to something like this!”

Barbara sighed heavily. “Fine, if we must...”

“Awesome!” Hannah crowed with a victorious arm pump before she turned to Amanda with a wide grin. “We’ll be there! Send me the details in a text, and I’ll let you know when we’ll be coming.”

Oh, the lead up was too perfect to ignore. “With the items in your cart, that won’t be the only coming you’ll be doing,” she said with a racy grin, and Barbara and the others stared at her for a moment, not understanding...and then Barbara blinked, a look of outrage on her face.

“YOU!”

Amanda was still cackling after she made the short sprint to the station wagon, insults and threats hurled at her back. And even as her friends questioned her on how she knew one of the Luna Nova girls, her mind was racing, half formed plans whirling about.

Hannah was going to be coming to the haunted maze. They would have to go all out this year!

#hamanda #amanda o'neill #hannah england #lwa #Little Witch Academia #non-magical au #autumn #Fair Verse #another cute thing #why do i do this to myself #got a whole plot for this figured out #buckle in kids

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harmonic-psyche · 6 years

Text

The Finalysis: @askgoopi and @askthewaywardaliens

Hey, I am back with more characters for The Finalysis™! Below, I analyze the characters from @ecstaticshli‘s EarthUnBound continuity on @askgoopi and CogDis sister blog on @askthewaywardaliens. Both blogs are still continuing their stories. While technically only @askgoopi is set in the alternate timeline called “EarthUnBound,” I am using that title for both blogs here because of their shared author/artist and characters and because is sounds Really Friggin Cool.

I am still experimenting with the visuals for these Finalysis posts, and I wanted to try something a bit less bare than in my Finalysis post for @askgiegueandcrew. Hopefully the image is not too crowded. Also, I swear that the “Goopi vs. J” fight in the middle of the picture was unintentional at first — but then I realized that it reflects how they would probably react upon meeting. oh geez, now i want to see them meet and see how many milliseconds it takes for them to start fighting

With that said, on to the character analyses!

Blue Starman ("Stupid," or "Blu"): Seems like an ISFJ.

This nervous-looking "[s]cared nerd Starman" is much more easily frightened than his fellow Starmen, which suggests inferior Ne — especially considering that he regrets being a coward, his "personality" is "Chicken," and he has a bad habit of second-guessing himself. Even in his military decisions, he shows caution. As a "pushover," Blu lacks the toughness of auxiliary Te, implying Fe instead. Also, seeing Giegue happy would make Blu happiest, showing Fe's desire to make others happy. While these facts suggest ISFJ, I have not seen enough of him to feel confident about my typing.

Giegue ("Goopi"): Probably ESTP, maybe ESTJ.

Canon Giegue is ISTJ, but "Goopi" here appears much more impulsive and aggressive. For example, his "bad habits" include "attacking others for seemingly no reason." While canon Giegue is not friendly, before the madness set in he tended to stay calm unless provoked or carrying out a cruel plan. In contrast, Goopi takes a sadistic pleasure in attacking others just for the sake of killing them. He once broke a promise with Static simply because he wanted to kill her after torturing her. Canon Giegue also uses a much more detached and clinical tone than Goopi, who loves using crude, petty insults so much that he literally named all of his Starmen after them. That degrading, crude humor is most common among ESTP types, and notably lacking from Giegue in canon or on @askgiegueandcrew. In canon, Giegue only acts to follow his plan(s) or when he loses control of himself. On the other hand, Goopi often acts merely for pleasure without a plan or a reason: "I don't need much of a reason," "I did what I did because I wanted to." These show far more impulsive and hedonistic behavior, implying Se rather than Si.

At first, I was unsure if I could justifiably type Goopi differently from canon Giegue. Since they are from different universes, though, they are different characters: Goopi is "a completely different Giegue" (PMs with @ecstaticshli 2018-06-22).

J the Shadow: Definitely ISTJ.

Cautious, tough, and stoic to the core, J is an archetypal ISTJ. As an introvert who is still working on acting social, he prefers to avoid the spotlight. Si-dominance is evident in his (over?)protective unwavering loyalty to Vivi, since he considers himself her personal "bodyguard" (a.k.a. "guard dog" — compare the running joke about Si-dominant Pia the loyal dog). J does not hesitate to intimidate, threaten, or attack others to prove it when he thinks that they threaten Vivi. He shows no F-type squeamishness. While he "[t]ends to not be very friendly to others ... if he trusts someone he will be loyal and do his best to protect them," showing Si loyalty without Fe friendliness.

Te over Fi appears in his tough attitude, blunt tone, resent for receiving others' pity, "aggressive demeanor," and tendency to be embarrassed by emotional and cutesy situations — which, naturally, happen all the time around Vivi. When feeling insecure, he responds with aggression. As he has shown repeatedly, he hates being called adorable despite the obvious fact that he totally is adorable. In his own words, "It ain’t exactly easy for me to, uh, open up to others." Auxiliary Te's coldness and inferior Ne's paranoia make him distrust others by default ("We don’t know these people! I can’t trust them!"). While this can cause tension when he first meets other characters, it does help him protect those he cares about, especially Vivi. He also shows inferior Ne when he is totally thrown off by strange new perspectives, like whether he qualifies as an "insectoid."

Note also that, since "J is based on a later version of Giegue from EarthUnbound," it makes sense that J and Giegue would have identical personality types. Again, typing by analogy is unreliable, but in this case it sits on a huge pile of more-than-sufficient other evidence.

Nebula: Seems like an ISFJ.

This "[c]autious noodle" is "[c]alm, for the most part," but "[t]ends to panic when things go horribly wrong," making "other people assume ... [that s]he's a worrywart." Those show inferior Ne, and a lack of Te's decisiveness. Even though Nebula made Static act serious (a minor miracle) when Goopi attacked, came up with a plan, and pointed out that other mooks needed help escaping, she froze up and did not volunteer to help them when Static asked. These show her calm, serious planning skills (Si) and desire to help others (Fe) without any impulsivity (Ne). Nebula corrects others about scientific details even in crisis situations, showing that she is a stickler for detail (Si). Also, she probably would not dare kill anyone, showing what I call "F-type squeamishness." I do not have all that much confidence in typing Nebula, though. I have only seen her in a crisis situation, in which characters often act unusually compared to their normal personality.

Rac: Seems like an IN__.

Nebula's boyfriend is a "really smart," "nerdy noodle" who "[t]ends to be skittish and awkward at times." Being skittish and awkward suggests introversion. While there is only a weak correlation between intelligence and MBTI (specifically, iNtuition), there is a strong correlation between nerdiness and being an IN__ type.[citation not needed] Rac’s "fears" include "[s]paghettification" and "black holes in general," which are an unusually abstract subject to fear, suggesting N. His "bad habits" include "[s]econd guessing himself," showing a lack of confidence. As a research supervisor, though, he possesses a strong scientific curiosity and enough leadership skills to run his lab. Having never seen Rac's behavior, I cannot type him precisely. Any of the IN__ types could fit this description.

Starman Jr. ("Ugly," or "Ly"): Definitely ESFP.

Ly's "[s]assy and snarky" attitude, chill demeanor, and casual slang-based speaking style point to Se-dominance . So too does her low patience and risk-taking behavior, like when she threw a secret party which accidentally got Static captured. Still, she had good intentions: "I just wanted to do something nice for my friend." Still, Ly's impulsivity and good intentions do not always end poorly. In fact, they may be the only reason that Vivi is still alive.

When Ly found Vivi on a deserted planet, Ly insisted on taking Vivi aboard to heal her. Another Starman asked how they would handle Giegue's reaction, and Ly replied that "I'll figure that out when we get to that point." In other words, she had no plan (low Ni and Te), acting only on impulse (high Se and Fi). When Javik Goopi tried to throw Vivi out the airlock, Ly saved her life by standing up to Goopi, literally annoying him into stopping. It takes nearly-reckless courage to stand up to someone so powerful and unstable. Beyond that, the intentional use of annoyance for persuasion shows Fi's determination and willingness to embarrass everyone involved (compare Vivek the ENFP), whereas Fe-users would likely melt from the secondhand cringe.

Like Static's, Ly's individualist passion (auxiliary Fi) is accomplished through a facade of toughness (tertiary Te). After all, she is "practically the only one who can pretty much talk trash to Goopi’s face and not be killed for it." Her high Fi often causes righteous indignation. Combined with her tough demeanor, this makes her take no BS from anons ("Screw you! Nobody asked for your two cents, bub") who try to help Goopi or from inexplicably hostile mooks. Those show no Fe politeness, even though Fi makes Ly "willing to sacrifice [her] safety" for her friends' at the drop of a hat because of how much she cares about them.

Unlike Static, Ly lacks the eccentric cleverness of Ne — but she makes up for it with Se's down-to-earth decisiveness. Also, contrast their speaking styles: Ly's tends to have more "shortcuts," like dropping letters from the front ("worried 'bout," "lost track of 'em,") or end of words ("somethin' to," "damper on everythin'," "comin' up"). Dropping the -g from the end of words shows informality. Also, a lot of Ly's slang comes from slurred speech ("wanna," "gotta," "gonna," "outta") — and "ain't." Those all shorten words to make them more convenient, but also sound "unrefined," for lack of a better less pretentious word. At least among CogDis OCs, that style is a dead giveaway for Se-dominance (compare Boson, Juice, Rigby, and Szortski). Sensors are more likely to view language only as a tool, making them more straightforward. In contrast, iNtuitors also like to play with it, which is why — unlike Ly — Static really, really loves puns.

Static: Definitely ENFP.

See full analysis for details. also i totally would've called that this "noodle" is a hugger. wait now i want to hug her :S

Vivineeh ("Vivi"): Probably ISFJ, maybe INFP.

I have tried to figure out which of those two types this "adorable" and "precious" (seriously, she is absurdly cute) noodle is for sooo long! Either typing could explain that she is "timid," "[w]ill cry at just about anything," and "super sensitive," since those come generally from I_F_. Likewise, either typing could explain that she "likes [b]eing kind, ... being around children, ... hugs, soft and/or fluffy things, [and] anything she finds cute." Sentimentality, enjoyment of receiving affection, and compassion can suggest high Fi or high Fe.

The evidence that I have seen barely tips the scales towards ISFJ. Vivi "always tries to be super nice and polite," because "she dislikes making others feel bad," and she loves making friends. Wanting everyone to be happy is generally a trait of high Fe-users, as is indiscriminate positivity — especially politeness, which shows an intuitive submission to social norms. Fi is typically less prone to share its feelings, more selective about them, and defiant of social norms like politeness. Finally, the "fearful" Vivi frequently worries and is easily scared/offended by dark humor, suggesting low Ne. I have already mentioned why inferior Ne causes worrying, and dark humor is appreciated by high Ne-users (compare Ano and Static) but offends Si's often-purist sensibilities. Finally, unlike other CogDis-related IN_Ps, Vivi does not show absentminded or eccentric behavior (contrast Keter, Loris, Niiue, and Origen).

Now consider the evidence for INFP. One might think that Vivi's social awkwardness suggests dominant Fi, because Fe is more socially adept. Yet ISFJs can often be socially awkward too, especially when caused by inferior Ne caution (compare Yi the ISFJ "just being awkward"). The contrast between Vivi's personality and J's also makes her seem like an INFP, because it seems unlikely that they share the same dominant function. Typing by analogy is weak evidence, though, and different extraverted-judging functions (Te vs. Fe) can cause a huge difference in demeanor. At first I though Vivi did not show Si-dominance because I had not seen her show its common (and admittedly stereotypical) traits like obedience to authority or effective detailed memory, but she shows both (PMs with @ecstaticshli 2018-06-22). While many parts of her culture "sicken and unnerve" her, as one would expect more from a Fi- or Ni-dominant repulsed at their society, she inherited most of her beliefs from her caretaker Marair. Like most ISFJs, most of her values are inherited from her family.

I am not entirely confident in an ISFJ typing, though. Vivi "likes ... trying new things, learning, [and] visiting new planets," which suggests high Ne. While Si-dominants can love learning, especially if it involves fact-collecting (compare Ore), they generally do not like trying new things. I cannot explain why Vivi likes trying new things, such as visiting new planets, using an ISFJ typing. In fact, she can be downright "adventurous" if she does not feel threatened (PMs 06-22). Similarly, Vivi's "hopeless romantic" idealism is more common among daydreaming INFPs than concrete ISFJs. As a Geik, Vivi seems more like an ISFJ, but as a Gieeg, she seems more like an INFP — but since they are the same character (PMs 06-22), I cannot type them differently.

Alright, that concludes my analysis of @askgoopi and @askthewaywardaliens! Unless I forgot any characters. I considered including some of the other Starmen who serve under Goopi, and probably ought to add the Last Starman featured in recent posts — especially since he may have a type very rare to CogDis (canon and fan-) characters. But since most of them appear almost exclusively in the background, have minimal dialogue, and lack Charahub entries, I realized that I would not have enough material to make a guess at their personality types.

I am unsure whose characters I will analyze next. Hopefully it will take less time to post the next part of Finalysis. Until then, goodnight!

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misccee · 6 years

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13x16 Fix

Repost for time difference

Castiel is jetlagged. He is billions of years old—he was once able to fold time & space!—but an airplane has foiled him. His Grace thrums unhappily—it wants to reestablish his vessel’s circadian rhythm—but Castiel has the feeling he shouldn’t be expending energy so close to his task. Who knows what tribulations he will encounter. Could be another set of clay warriors. Could be a giant snake. Could be Chuck casually reading the paper. Who knows really, with the way these things usually go. Castiel has learned not to have concrete expectations.

As Castiel swipes at the djinn in front of him while another tries to grab him around the waist, he realizes that he did have expectations after all. He was expecting maybe a mythical beast to defeat; or a trial of riddles; a booby-trapped walk of faith (and damn, he’s watched that movie with Dean too many times if that’s the expectation his otherworldly brain has conjured up); but certainly not a rouge pack of djinn who took up residence because they were bored and they could.

“I can’t wait to taste your dreams, Angel,” the one currently grappling at his waist hisses into his ear as he licks it.

Castiel swings an elbow back into the djinn’s gut as he flips his angel blade and throws it at the one dancing in front of him. The blade pierces its throat, and it gargles pathetically around the blue-black lifeblood it aspirates on.

The elbow wasn’t as effective,and Castiel feels himself being pulled down. He’s deadlier with his angel blade, but without it he’s just deadly. He manages to wriggle around and place a smiting hand on the djinn who was behind him…but he trips over the feet of another djinn Castiel had—sliced? stabbed? (he can’t really recall all of the ways he’s dispatched the djinn at this point)—and he finds himself on the ground. On his back.

Again.

All these years and he still cannot balance right without the aid of his wings.

He only has a moment to berate his clumsiness before two more djinn appear at his opponent’s side. Castiel spits blood out of his mouth. He’d bitten his tongue on impact. He waits for them to close in before he rolls away from their outstretched, grabby hands. Blindly he reaches behind him and—blessedly—his fingers curl around the hilt of his blade. Castiel swipes out in an arc and manages to wound two of his attackers, who hiss and jump away.

The third—the pest who has consistently gotten the closest to Castiel’s vessel—grabs him by the lapels of his trench coat and hoists him up. The djinn’s smile bleeds across his face revealing his sharp teeth, his breath an acrid breeze across Castiel’s face. Cas stomps on the djinn’s instep and gives him a patented Dean Winchester head-butt, and the creature stumbles back.

The other two have collected themselves, and—with Mr. Too-Close-for-Comfort—begin circling Castiel. Cas just rolls his shoulders and chuckles. On his feet, angel blade in his grasp, he has the upper hand.

His laugh must have unnerved them somewhat because they are glancing at each other. They start conversing in their sibilant language (one he’s heard Sam refer to more than once as Parseltongue and would not be dissuaded against the inaccuracy of that label). Castiel doesn’t know if the djinn do it because think he can’t understand them or because they know he can.

“I am unsure of this.”

“He is bloodied, but does not appear to be tiring.”

“He has already sent six of us to Purgatory. Do we wish to join our siblings there?”

“You know,” interjects Castiel, “if you just give me some fruit—as I asked when I first arrived—I’d be happy to be on my way and spare the rest.”

Their attention snaps back to him and they hiss in unison.

Castiel flips his blade a few times and raises his eyebrow. “Or I could cut a swath through you and let you join the ‘party’ in Purgatory.” Flip, flip. “I was fighting wars before your alpha was even a glimmer in Eve’s eye, but sure—test me combat.”

They hesitate knowing the truth behind his words, but indignant about being called out over their battle prowess. A look passes between the three of them and their stances relax.

Mr. Too-Close speaks at him, “You will speak with our Malikah.”

Castiel straightens but doesn’t relax. “Do I have your word I will come to her unharmed?”

The djinn smiles at him, baring his razors again. “We will bring you to her as you are. What happens after is none of our doing.”

The djinn queen is sitting in an obviously handmade wicker chair under the tree, one leg slung lazily over an armrest. She considers Castiel with a look that wouldn’t melt butter. She gestures airily at his ‘escorts’ and they leave his side to join with the others in their pack. Her face is graced with a wicked smile.

“Are you a present?”

“No, Malikah. I am here on a…quest of sorts.”

She swings her leg down and leans forward, raising her brows at him.

“And am I not the treasure you seek?”

Castiel squints. The devil is loose, a Prince of Hell sits its throne, a war-torn angel army threatens to invade this Earth, and he’s getting hit on.

Again.

“Your…uh…beauty is a…treasure indeed. But…um—”

The djinn huffs out an amused laugh and waves at him to stop.

“I know what you seek. It is what every being who comes here seeks.” She throws a thumb over her shoulder and Castiel sees the pile of bones.

Lovely.

She rises from her chair languidly and saunters over to him.

“But you, Angel. For you I require a very different price. Hmm. No, a favor is more like. Will trade a favor for a bit of fruit?”

Her hand comes up and she trails a tattooed finger along his stubbled jawline.

“Um. Ok,” he sputters.

The pack of djinn on the sidelines titter.

Castiel is sitting in another wicker chair. He shifts self-consciously under the weight of the flowers on his head the necklaces of teeth—of all kinds—wound around his neck. Three female djinn are painting his forearms (he’d staunchly insisted that he’d keep his shirt on, but his sleeves rolled up), neck, and bare feet. He feels naked without his trenchcoat.

“What exactly is—” he starts, but the djinn painting his left arm shushes him.

“Don’t move. You’ll ruin the line.”

“Ok.”

Castiel surveys the area. The pack of dijnn are mostly standing about in clumps talking animatedly with each other. Even with his heightened hearing and understanding of the language, he can’t seem make anything out—the sounds are too breathy and too many of them overlap—so when they all quiet, Castiel perks up.

The three djinn attending him stand and move away (the one who spoke to him earlier snaps at him, “do not move too much before it dries!”) and a djinn he didn’t fight appears on a platform. The djinn begins to sing a capella—there are no words, but the melody is ethereal and heartrending. Hand movements accompany the notes, but Castiel can’t tell if it’s a language he doesn’t speak, or if the movements are of the signer’s own making.

He leans over to the closet djinn, “So do I, um—" but he is cut off with an aggravated hiss.

“Do not interrupt!”

So Castiel sinks back into the chair. He starts a little when the pack of djinns start clapping and stomping. At first it seems uncoordinated, but after a few beats he realizes there’s a cadence and pattern to it, with some djinns clapping and others stomping in turns. As the song and beat pick up, a cadre of djinn break free and start wheeling and spinning and slapping and clapping at each other’s hands in a mesmerizing sort of ballet.

There is a cry—it doesn’t appear to be a part of the song—and Castiel sees the djinn queen approaching. She is decked out in her own set of flowers and creature teeth. There’s a certain sort of thorny beauty to her that reminds him of Meg Masters.

Another djinn appears before Castiel suddenly and holds a carafe of sweet-smelling…something…out to him.

“Now. You drink now,” the djinn says in English. Castiel hesitates, but the djinn is insistent, “You not displease her.”

So Castiel accepts the carafe and takes a sip. The attendant makes an aggrieved noise and tips the bottom of the carafe so that Cas is forced to drink down the sudden onset of liquid on reflex before the last of it is spilling out of the sides of his mouth and trickling down his neck. He hopes the tracts don’t smear the calligraphy on his skin. He looks around inconspicuously—he does not see the artist who yelled at him to take care, but he still refrains from wiping at his mouth.

The sounds of bodies pounding on other bodies begin to beat within his vessel. The djinn queen is getting closer to him, but she suddenly seems very far away. The dancers start spinning, but Castiel can’t tell if that’s part of the dance or because of the sudden inebriation he realizes is occurring to his vessel. His Grace pulses in agitation, but it feels like swimming through molasses to try and access it, so Cas just closes his eyes.

A warm hand is on his cheek, and—as he opens his eyes—another is pulling him to his feet. Castiel sways and tries to focus. The djinn queen gives a joyful laugh. She takes the crown of teeth from her head and places it in his hand at the same time as swiping the crown of flowers from his head. She grabs his noodle arm and raises it up.

“Put it on your head!” she shouts, pointing at his head as she fixes the flower crown jauntily on her own.

“Oh, um. Right.” Castiel slams the crown of teeth on his head—it was closer to his hand than he’d judged—and adjusts it to stay.

The djinn queen is looking at him, so he says, “So…uh. What exactly is this favor? This seems…um…ritualistic in nature. If I had to guess—” she claps her hands directly in his face.

“Now we dance! That is the favor that you will give to me. A dance at this celebration!”

She grabs his hand, twirls him awkwardly, and yanks him into the sea of serpentining bodies.

Castiel is rudely awakened by a jab of toe into his side. Curious. His does not need sleep, but there is a slight ache behind his eyes that informs him he didn’t sleep so much as “pass out.” He calls his Grace and the ache alleviates. He sits up from where he’d been lying in the dirt to squint up at the djinn who belongs to the offending toe.

It’s Mr. Too-Close-for-Comfort—because of course it is—and he’s looming over Castiel, holding a full bag.

“Get up, angel,” he says.

As Castiel stands he takes stock of himself—he’s still clothed, but the designs on his skin are no more than blue smears now; his crown is nowhere to be found, but there are a couple of crushed and bruised flowers stuck in his hair. What. The. Hell.

The djinn shoves the bag into Castiel’s chest, producing a slight oomph from him.

“Your prize for favoring the queen. Now leave. We have both honored our words. Let us not break them now due to lingering.”

Castiel looks around—he sees a mound of sleeping djinn in clumps all over the territory—but he does not see the Malikah herself.

“I…thank you.”

The djinn laughs at him.

“Have fun with your…quest. Do not forget that you are now bound to us of your own free will. She may yet call claim on that again.”

Castiel shifts the bag in his grasp as he turns to leave—it contains the sought-after fruit (which Cas is just now wondering how he’ll have to mojo though customs)—and heaves a full body sigh.

It would appear that he’s gotten married.

Again.

Src

#scoobynatural #13x16 fix #castiel #castiel’s adventures #djinn queen

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lonelypond · 6 years

Text

Santa Cutie And The Christmas Cookie Queen

Love Live, NicoMaki, 6.5K, 1/3

Another year's worth of Christmas fluff. Maki Nishikino is the heir to North Pole Nishikino Industrial, touring factories for manufacturing tips. She won't settle for anything less than the best Christmas cookie ever. Nico Yazawa is a local TV news personality in quiet Tudor, Pennsylvania. She won't settle for anything less than her own media empire. They meet one stormy night on a bridge. But have they met before?

Storming Into Town

HERE:

Tudor, Pennsylvania. Any breaking news would have to wait as two of the most prominent women in local news had just sat down to their monthly lunch and gossip at the Round The Corner diner. Which was not around any corner and instead provided a stellar view of the most congested roadway in the county.

Ignoring the view, Channel 10 news personality Nico Yazawa, dressed for the weather in a light pink sundress, ebon hair in a ponytail, put down her fork and frowned at the fair haired woman opposite her, “You can’t just stalk my cameraperson. You have to actually ask her out. I gave you her number.”

“Can’t we do a trade. Like the NWSL?” Channel 15 news anchor Tsubasa Kira, tailored and trousered, hair teased, chuckled.

Nico’s crimson eyes sparked with indignation, “You don’t need a daredevil camerawoman and I do. Plus, Nico doesn’t do sports anything.” Nico decided she was finished with her salad, pushing the plate to the edge of the table

“But there’s athletes and legs and shorts and muscles and sports bras and...I know you like legs.” Tsubasa bit into a drumstick, leering.

“No class. That’s why you’re trapped in a small media market, Tsubasa.” Nico raised her hand, palm out, head shaking. The waitress dropped her chicken and waffles on the table. “Nico likes comfort food day.”

Tsubasa wiped her fingers on a napkin, “So why is Nico trapped in the local market?”

Nico batted her eyelashes and blew Tsubasa an empty kiss. “Nico is not trapped. Nico is the next Martha Stewart so Nico is building her fanbase and considering her options.”

“Romantic options as well?” This Tsubasa was genuinely curious about. She and Nico had been friends for almost half a year and while she knew Nico was gay, she had no idea if Nico was dating, had ever dated or was at all interested in dating.

Nico ignored the question, mouth full of waffle, “Ask Honoka out. Give yourself a treat.”

Tsubasa sighed and turned to look out the window, picturing a ginger haired whirlwind of energy with the kindest, brightest blue eyes. Nico continued to chew, happy at her successful diversionary tactic.

THERE:

There was nearly always snow, in some form. An aesthetic choice, here at North Pole Nishikino headquarters, a bustling company town, long hidden away in a cleft in the Poconos, only approachable through reindeer flight or a secret access road from the coolest, craziest diner in any non urban American locale. Maki Nishikino, red hair windblown as always, lavender eyes nearing maximum merriness, only heir and proud protector of the Nishikino-Claus legacy, smiled at the light fluster of snow that blew across the back of the diner parking lot. Jym brought over her chicken and waffles and Rin Hoshizora’s triple sized bowl of ramen.

“The bowl’s as big as your head, Rin.” Maki tapped her knife on the edge, Rin fending it off with a large spoon.

Rin decided not to wait for revenge, brows lowered over determined green eyes. She rarely got Maki alone to talk. “Did Eli give you the “get married and continue the family” legacy talk yet?”

Maki hissed, glaring, eyes narrowing, knife and fork paused in the act of cutting her dinner into chewable chunks.

“Ha!” Rin pounded a hand on the table and her broth sloshed over the side of her bowl. She slurped some noodles before continuing, “I knew it. Eli had that look. Kayochin owes me a date.”

“Do you have to win bets to get Hanayo to go out with you now?” Maki’s eyes twinkled at her best friend, mirth cresting over aggravation.

Rin stuck out her tongue as Maki finally to bite into drippy chunk of waffle. Excellent gravy. This was her test meal for any diner she ran across in her travels and no one did gravy nearly this well, “No, I don’t. We’re getting married.”

Maki grinned, the engagement was a childhood joke turned tender reality. “I know. I heard you shout when she said yes. And I was in California.”

“So when are you getting married?” Rin continued speaking, even while slurping through her noodles, most of her attention on her meal.

Maki was tempted to knock Rin’s bowl off the table, but that would just make a mess for the staff, “That requires dating, Rin, and I haven’t dated anyone since freshman year in college.”

“Yep. Slow learner.” Rin shook her head, her voice mournful. “Kayochin and I had such hopes.”,

“I am not a slow learner.” Maki shouted, half rising out of her seat, then realizing the rest of the diner patrons were looking at her. She slumped back. “I just want…”

Rin snorted, staring incredulously at her second oldest friend. “You can not still seriously be waiting for someone who bakes Christmas cookies better than your great grandmother. That’s not normal. Kayochin and I looked it up. There are no cookie sexuals.” The boisterous Rin had never been more serious, “You were only 5 when you decided you’d marry someone who made cookies better than your great grandmother. You were supposed to grow out of it.”

“You were 5 when you decided you’d marry Hanayo.” Maki put more force into cutting through gravy soaked waffles than was actually required. Splatter made it to Rin’s ramen bowl.

Rin leaned forward, pointing index finger a stern rebuke. “Kayochin is not a cookie. Because you can’t marry a plate of cookies. You can’t kiss or hug or…” Rin paused, catching Maki’s blush. “Anything with them. And your great grandmother started off looking like a movie star and then grew into cookies and gray hair and twinkly eyes. “There are pictures. And that’s what your parents say.” Rin stopped, for almost a whole minute, unheard of for the for the energetic elf, then her green eyes brightened with inspiration. “So look for a movie star.”

Maki blew out enough air to stir Rin’s short bangs, “Celebrities don’t do homey.”

Rin’s finger tapped the table after each word. “Buy. A. Cookie. Factory. For. Cookies.” pause” Date. A. Pretty. Girl. For…”

Maki threw a forkful of gravy and chicken across the table.

CHRISTMAS IN JULY

Maki grumbled as she opened the door to her suite. Too hot. July, of course, everything and everyone was sweaty, especially when you’re spending your time inside factories, crawling around assembly lines, getting hands on training on the mechanics of assembly lines and robotic arms. At home, the factory floor was three times the size of most Maki had seen here and constantly busy but there, if Maki stepped outside or opened a window, there was a cool breeze and a hint of Arctic whatever time of day or year. Maki had not fully appreciated that until now.. Air conditioning was a poor and noisy substitute and the sounds and smells of downtown Tudor were unexceptional. She needed a taste of home but Rin would tease her if she texted or called again. So Maki opened up the TWIG app and typed #ChristmasCookies into the search. That would be no surprise to anyone who knew her. Her profile photo was a white plate with “Gimme Cookies” scrawled across it. The first picture in the box was a tempting pile of very crisp looking ginger snaps, darkly caramel in color, crystallized ginger shards scattered over the top...Maki’s mouth watered, she could almost taste the slight bite of bitter in the treacle sweetness of the molasses. She clicked through. The cookies had been posted by @StormCookie, whose avatar was a very cutesy cartoon girl in a pink apron, awkwardly balancing a plate of cookies. Her profile linked to To Weather Any Storm, a lifestyle blog for those gay and girl and single.

Caption: Testing recipes for my Christmas cookies well in advance. Santa appreciates having the best when he stops by (*｀▽´)_旦~~.

This is true, Maki acknowledged and surprised by a suddenly silly mood, found herself typing a response.

SantaChan: Papa prefers oatmeal cookies, but I’d definitely bring some of the reindeer by for yours.

The response was almost immediate.

StormCookie: Why hi there, @SantaChan (*＾▽＾)／. Does your Papa let you take the sleigh out often?

SantaChan: It’s the family business. I’ve been the official cookie tester for years (^-^)ゝ

StormCookie. Ho ho ha! You sound like Santa Cutie ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ

Maki blushed. This was definitely silly, @ing some anonymous lifestyle blogger who happened to post a really appetizing picture of her favorite cookie, but it was so much better than admitting to Rin how bored she was. Or getting another lecture from Eli about how valuable modern methodology could be.

SantaChan Why #ChristmasCookies in July?

StormCookie To meet weirdos like you?

SantaChan ⊙︿⊙

StormCookie Only kidding. Check your messages (*・∀-)☆

Maki checked for a notification.

StormCookie Hey, @SantaCutie, kinda looks like Christmas is all year round for you from your pics but I take my vacation now and spend it doing some of my Christmas blog stuff in advance.

SantaChan Practical.

StormCookie Yep. I’d let you taste them, but TWIG doesn’t deliver.

SantaChan ( ・・)つ-●●●ԅ(º﹃ºԅ)

StormCookie ha! So what’s your story, Santa Cookie?

Maki stared at the walls of her suite, very vertical wall paper, practically colonial themed furniture, moderately comfy. She threw herself back into the nearly historical couch, stretching her legs.

SantaChan Bored. Just started living in a hotel for 6 months because of a work gig. Staring at the walls. They’re stripey. Now staring at the ceiling. Not so stripey.

StormCookie SantaSilly. Get up and take a walk.

SantaChan It’s hot out there. I like blizzards.

StormCookie The ice cream?

Maki snorted.

SantaChan The storm, @STORMcookie ^.~

StormCookie (❤ฺ￫艸￩) Have to run. But I’m making more cookies tomorrow morning (*´ー`)

SantaChan: Looking forward to it ԅ(º﹃ºԅ)

NOW:

Nishikino Maki, lavender eyes narrowed, lips in a tight smile, bucket helmet protecting her head, goggles protecting her eyes, revved her throttle as her motorcycle navigated Rt. 30, grip still holding in the middle of a mid November hurricane. Maki knew it was crazy but she was tired of being the dutiful daughter. Studying manufacturing processes and sitting through meetings was BORING. Five months of BORING. She missed the crazy moonlight rides in the open sled, cold winds whipping her hair back, reindeer dancing joyfully across any wisps of cloud they could catch. The motorcycle couldn’t replicate that but there was a zest in controlling so much of her current destiny. She cut across the wind, turning down a side street that would bring her back to her hotel. She revved halfway into the turn, then throttled down as she pulled off the highway.

She was nearing a particularly picturesque bridge, even in this low light. Surprisingly, Maki wasn’t the only one on the road in the storm. She could barely make out shapes, a large van, two figures, one petite in a pink raincoat, looking as if the wind might pick her up and flip her into the river at any moment, taking a full hit from a suddenly surging wave. Maki slowed down, dropped her bike before she got to the van and yelling “Stupid” while she sprinted toward the woman. As she leapt to save the woman from falling over, her boot caught on a tree branch hidden in debris and Maki stumbled forward, falling against her target, who had to drop her microphone to catch Maki in both arms. Maki screamed as they both fell forward, but the jerk of a safety harness stopped them, the woman’s arms wrapped tightly around Maki’s torso.

“NICO!” An enraged voice shouted over the wind.

Maki found herself staring into crimson eyes nested behind long, luxurious lashes. Two carved dark pink lips pressed together then mouthed “Don’t move” before shouting “Umi” over Maki’s shoulder.

Maki felt hands pull them both upright and hustle them toward the van. Her ‘rescuer” kept an arm around Maki’s waist while muttering words Maki could only make out a few of, “Perfect shot...Nico was almost...crazy…”

Crazy was probably a reference to her, Maki realized and then she was pushed inside a warm space, someone was pulling off her helmet and her rescuer had wrapped separate blankets around them both as Maki raised a wet, shivering hand to pull down her goggles. Then she stripped off her sodden leather gloves. A fawn haired woman shoved a mug of something hot in her hand and an orange haired woman kitted out in rain gear shut the van door behind them.

“That was exciting, Nico!” The ginger haired woman giggled, wiping down an expensive video camera with a chamois cloth.

“Too exciting thanks to…” Maki’s rescuer was very small and she’d unzipped her coat, placing her hands on aggressively cocked hips, crimson eyes bright and waiting.

There was a pause. The woman snorted and shook her head, turning away to grab her own mug of...Maki took a sip, coffee. The coffee committeewoman smiled gently, “I’m Kotori Minami,” she pointed to the ginger, “that is Honoka Kosaka and you probably already know Nico.

Oh, names. “Maki Nishikino.” Another sip as words turned into sense through a barrier of wet chill. “Why would I know Nico?”

Honoka doubled over, chortling, as the van door opened again, and another woman, this one with blued black hair threw in a safety harness, “Are you all all right?”

“We’re fine, Umi. Everything worked.” Nico (Maki was still trying out the name in her head) rolled her eyes, “This one doesn’t even know who she was trying to drown.”

“Hey!” Maki attempted to stand but was too tangled in cords and blankets. “I was saving you.”

Nico watched curiously as Maki tripped over her own boots again, almost tipping her coffee forward and was forced to sit back down abruptly.

Umi looked at Maki, amber eyes serious, “That was incredibly dangerous. You could have both been killed.”

Maki shrugged. Another safety lecture to ignore. Nico took a delicate sip of coffee, still watching Maki, lips a wire of disapproval.

“Let’s get going, Honoka.” Umi opened the door again and Honoka jumped out after her, both sliding into the front seats a moment later. “Can we drop you somewhere?”

“I have my motorcycle so no thanks.” Maki finished her coffee, inhaling some calm before she tried standing again.

Nico crossed her arms over her chest, “It’s a hurricane. 60 mile per hour wind. Debris.”

“I’ll go 70,” Maki winked, forcing herself not to shiver as she put the blanket aside.

“That’s not how it works.” Nico muttered, turning aside with a “This is stupid” as Kotori smiled gently at Maki.

“We have to get back to the station.” Umi announced, checking her phone.

“Station?” Maki paused at the door, puzzling over the glare Nico was giving her.

“Channel 10.” Honoka bounced, rocking the van, “I got some good footage before you crashed into Nico. Watch us at 11.”

“Oh. Okay.” Now this made more sense. Nico was a reporter. Maki watched little television but she was finding herself curious about the group of women in front of her.

Nico put her mug down with a clunk, “Thanks for trying to save me.”

“You’re wel...”

Nico cut Maki off, “Go home before Nico has to cover your next near fatal road accident.”

“We do weather and lifestyle, Nico.” Umi chided, giving Maki a wave. Honoka turned on the ignition as Maki stepped out the back. When Honoka hit the gas, everyone heard a metallic crunch, followed by Nico screaming “Honoka!”

The van turned off and Umi got out, wind and rain still whipping everything. Maki’s bike was unusable, the weight of the van having crushed her front tire and wheel frame. Umi shook her head, her voice apologetic, “I guess we will be taking you home after all.”

Maki was never going to intervene in a potential disaster again. They seemed to be contagious. And Nico had come around outside the van again, Maki’s helmet in her hand. “You forgot this, Red and Risky.” Her lips thinned again, disdain striking Maki as chillingly as the wet wind and dead leaves. “So much living dangerously.”

“It’s Maki” Maki snapped, losing her temper as she wondered what to do about the bike. “And I can live however dangerously I want.” No matter what my parents say, Maki continued in her head. This was an echo of too many recent arguments. She wondered if she’d made the Naughty List yet. Then she’d be having the “you need to come home” conversation with Eli and as bored as she’d been, she wasn’t ready to go back yet. But this incident had started from a positive impulse so she was probably covered.

“Maki.” Nico’s voice cut through wind and rain. “Get inside the van. We’re taking you home. You can call AAA on the way.”

“I’m at the Yorktowne.” Maki stated automatically. It wasn’t that far away.

“Not a local?” Nico asked, suprised.

Maki shook her head, taking the helmet and following Nico back to the van, “Studying manufacturing for the family business.”

“Ah,” Nico opened the door, “Harley.”

“And some other places.”

Nico jumped up into the van, suddenly cheerful. “Welcome to Tudor, Maki Nishikino.” And then she smiled, her crimson eyes and pink lips bright, guiding beacons that made Maki forget she was standing in a storm, and a warm hand took hers, pulling her up against the smaller woman again, “Nico hopes you have better nights from now on.”

Maki was safely back in her hotel room. She’d called a wrecker about picking up the bike so that was someone else’s problem. She’d stripped off her wet clothes, which meant ALL of her clothes and they were lying on a pile on the sink. The shower had been hot, but not warming enough. It wasn’t quite 11 so Maki grabbed her phone and snapped a picture of the pile by the sink. She hadn’t posted to TWIG yet today and StormCookie usually posted around midnight so there’d be a chance the other woman would see it.

Soaked socks and underwear, not the most attractive pile, but very much the now thing for Maki. And a caption.

SantaChan: Got a little too close to the weather tonight （－－；

Maki never took a selfie or showed her face in her photos. She still only had a small number of followers and Rin, aka ElfCat, was her most frequent commenter, as expected of a best friend. But there was also StormCookie, who had become a regular presence since July.

Notification. PM. @StormCookie.

StormCookie: very suggestive for this time of night. Shocking. (∩╹□╹∩)

Maki blushed a little. If she were honest, that was exactly the sort of reaction she’d been hoping to get. Which was, she admitted, a little pathetic, to only flirt with someone she’d probably never meet and who didn’t know who she was. But then she didn’t get so nervous.

SantaChan: Too cold to care :;(∩´﹏`∩);:

StormCookie: Drink something warm and get under the covers, SantaChilled.

SantaChan: Suggestions?

StormCookie: Check my timeline out.

Maki slid through her feed. Half an hour earlier, StormCookie had posted a mug of hot cider, poured out of a beaten up old green Thermos. The caption read: Always carry this for rainy, windy nights.

SantaChan: looks warm.

Instant reply:

StormCookie: It is. Stirred with a stick of cinnamon to seal the magic in. Have to run. Call Room Service and get under those covers

ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡

Maki sighed and threw herself on top of the pillow pile, grabbing the remote and the phone. Room service number she had memorized, now which station had that crazy cute group of news people said to watch at 11? 11 at 11? No, 10 at 11. It would distract her from thinking that she’d be a lot warmer if StormCookie were here, pouring her a drink of anything out of that beat up, family Thermos.

Nico had finished the live portion of her broadcast segments and Umi was putting the equipment away for the night. “Hey Umi?” Nico picked up a wrapped bunch of cable, following after Umi, “Do you have that biker’s number?”

“Yeah. Got all her information for the insurance claim.” Umi opened the storage cabinet, settling the camera on its shelf, taking the cable from Nico with a frown, “But I don’t know that you should use it for personal reasons.”

Nico leaned into Umi’s shoulder, “Nico would never do anything inappropriate.” Umi made a suspicious noise as Nico continued, “Nico wants to invite her to the studio so we can apologize. She seemed lonely.”

“She seemed mostly drenched.” Umi grunted, arms crossed.

“Why, Umi…” Nico started, after a half giggle.

“Don’t stretch yourself.” Umi’s smile was slow to spread across her chiseled features but sly, “Or I won’t give you her number.”

Nico chuckled, getting in a quick hug.“Text me the deets. How’s the propose to Kotori plan going?”

Umi grabbed Nico, tempted to shove her in after the camera, nearly lifting the much shorter woman off the ground, “Shush, Nico. Don’t mention that here.” Umi surveyed the room to see if anyone else had noticed Nico’s comment.

“Sorry.” Nico pulled out her phone, “Send the info. I want to call that redhead.”

“It’s nearly midnight, Nico.” Umi pointed out as she complied with Nico’s request, “Reasonable people are asleep.”

“We’re not.” Nico hit Call, “Thanks, best producer in the business.”

“Why is this so urgent?” Umi finished putting things back in their place.

“Nico will look cute tomorrow when we do the “holiday cookie” segment.” Nico’s smile hit full wattage as her attention turned to her phone call, “Hi, is this Maki? This is Nico….yes, we fell off a bridge together...just wanted to make sure you recovered from trying to drown Nico.”

Umi heard an indignant, “Drown? I was saving…” and went in search of her girlfriend, who had probably fallen asleep on a couch in the greenroom by now.

Well that was close to the most exasperating phone call Maki had ever been a party to. She glanced at the clock on her phone. And at 12:01 in the morning too. Just because Maki had watched the show and answered her phone didn’t mean she’d want to spend her lunch break tomorrow touring the station and watching a holiday cooking segment. Besides, elves didn’t really wear green, slouchy hats with bells on them. Rin usually worked testing sports equipment in a North Pole Nickshikino ball cap turned backwards. Rin had bought them for everyone as a joke three years ago and it had turned into uniform wear for all the elves in her section.

Still...the rest of Nico’s crew had seemed nice. And Maki still hadn’t met very many people in Tudor yet. Not that she’d be staying much longer. But she should probably go to inspect the holiday cookies. After all, that’s what Rin had put on her business cards. Maki had wanted to go with just a simple “Maki Nishikino, North Pole Nishikino Industrial” but Rin had gone behind her back and convinced the printer to add “Christmas Cookie Tester and Santa, Jr.” Which meant Maki couldn’t actually hand them to anyone and Rin gave them to everyone they met whenever she and Maki were together.

Messaging Rin.

M: Hey, Rin, thought you should know, tomorrow, I fulfill my most sacred duty.

Rin was actually awake. Well, this was the season of endless overtime.

R: Giving Santa an heir (ᗒᗨᗕ)

M: Shut up, Rin. That’s not what I meant. And if it was, I wouldn’t tell you.

R: (*≧艸≦) what’d you do?

M: Going to test Christmas cookies 且_(・_・ )

R: Made by a cute girl (ﾉ∀`♥)

M: No. A reporter.

R: Maki made a friend (ʘ言ʘ╬)

H: You met someone! Who?

Of course, Hanayo was awake and Rin had shared this wild rumor the elf was creating, based on one text from Maki. Maki shook her head at her best friend, glad Rin wasn’t in the room to see the blush.

M: I didn’t. I just thought Rin would like to know I’ll finally get to use my Christmas Cookie tester business cards. It’s nothing major.

R: SEND PICTURES!

M: No.

R: ( p_q)

H: Have fun, Maki (*´∇｀*)

R: KISS THE COOKIE GIRL (~￣³￣)~

M: Thanks, Hanayo. Go to sleep Rin.

R: (~￣³￣)~(~￣³￣)~(~￣³￣)~(~￣³￣)~(~￣³￣)~

H: Good night, Maki.

R: (~￣³￣)~(~￣³￣)~(~￣³￣)~(~￣³

And another victory for Hanayo in the wrestle Rin for her phone competition, Maki thought with a grin. Taking care of reindeer (and dating the constantly in motion Rin) actually kept her seemingly unathletic friend in excellent shape. Maki looked forward to spending time with both of them once she got back home. Too bad things were too hectic this time of year for them to make a quick visit. Hanayo would have enjoyed all the colonial architecture and cozy Christmas decorations downtown. And Rin would have enjoyed teasing Maki.

Rin pulled her phone back, glaring at her smiling fiancée, “Hey, Kayochin! I was having fun with Maki.”

Hanayo smiled, fingers gently petting short orange hair as Rin lay in her lap, “You were teasing her. If you make Maki self-conscious, she won’t go.”

Rin pouted, “She better send pictures.”

Hanayo giggled, “She will if the cookies are good.”

Maki had spent the morning working on painting and finishing a Harley so her jeans were spattered with paint and metal polish, but she didn’t have time to change. Pulling the Harley ballcap over her sweaty hair, she parked her rental in the news station’s lot, trying to figure out where the main entrance was so she could find a receptionist to guide her. Nope. Went in what turned out to be the back way, wandering gray corridors, with a few people rushing past her.

“Can I help you?” A young woman with a clipboard and an earpiece asked politely.

“I’m here to see Nico.” Maki shoved her hands in her bomber jacket, holiday wreath embroidered on the back, her last name on the front. Nico had said anyone could point Maki to her, but the redhead became more nervous as the young woman looked her up and down, then spoke into her mic, “Ms. Yazawa, your lunch appointment is here.”

“Maki!” Maki heard a yell behind her and whirled. Nico was rushing through a set of double doors, wearing a sleek red dress, decorated with holly leaves and candy canes. Her crimson eyes sparkled, her lipstick was candy cane striped. Maki wondered briefly how you got that effect as Nico took her arm, pulling her back through the doors. “I had Honoka posted at the front door, watching for you.”

“Sorry. Came in the closest door.” Maki pushed her hat back a little, suddenly self conscious about her clothing choices as she noticed how well the lines of Nico’s dress fitted the smaller woman curves.

“Not a problem, Nico found you.” Nico was wearing heels that brought her nearly up to Maki’s height and moving faster than Maki merging into a highway. It was impressive, “We have time for a short tour before Nico’s segment. Honoka’s really sorry about your motorcycle.”

“It’s okay. Insurance is handling everything.” Maki muttered as they approached a kitchen island set, with a stove behind it, decorated with oversized candy canes and gingerbread men. Nico smelled like mint.

“Nico is glad you weren’t on the bike.” Nico paused, letting Maki’s arm go, and leaned back against the island, arms stretched out, dark, shiny hair bouncing against its bows, leg raised so her foot rested on the stool behind her, “And that the hurricane blew out. Nico loves the thrill of weather stories but right now, I’d rather be inside near a warm stove.”

Silver flakes scattered across Nico’s lips seemed to be catching the light, drawing Maki’s attention. She wondered if the texture of the flakes would be smooth or scratchy to the touch and looked up to see Nico’s eyes watching her speculatively. Self conscious again, Maki felt too warm in her jacket but all she had underneath was a tattered t-shirt so she shoved her hands further into her pockets and nodded, taken in the details, seeing a plate of Christmas cookies and moving toward them, “Did you make those?”

Nico glanced at the plate of exquisitely decorated sugar cookie snowpeople. “Oh, Nico is using those in the shoot. They look perfect. Like Nico.” Maki was amazed Nico could say something like that without a pause or blush. But Nico just continued to smile at her.

“Hey Nico!” A shout. Maki recognized the black haired producer who’d taken her insurance information. “They need to check your mic.”

“Sorry. Nico will be right back. Don’t touch anything.” Nico winked and whooshed away, leaving Maki open mouthed and awkward. And surreptitiously grabbing a cookie from the bottom of a pile, one whose absence wouldn’t be missed at all. With two quick bites all the evidence would be gone. Two quick bites Maki was sorry to have taken, she thought as she chewed discretely, the oversweet sandiness of the cookies disappointing.

“Hi!” Another wind whooshed in, the ginger haired cameraperson, “Nico said you snuck in past me.” A hand was extended in Maki’s direction as startled, she choked down the remnants of cookie.

“Hi!” Maki shook hands, trying to remember the name, “Honoka.”

“Sorry about your bike. Nico and Umi were so mad at me.” Honoka didn’t sound upset at that at all. “Any more moving vehicle incidents and Umi’s not going to let me drive so at least your bike was parked.” Blue eyes blinked cheerfully at Maki, “You work at Harley?”

“I’m kind of interning. Studying assembly processes.” Maki decided that was the best answer.

“Cool. Nico said you weren’t from around here.” Honoka ignored all the bustle around them as Nico got into position on the set.

“Poconos.”

“Cool.” Honoka nodded.

“Usually.” Maki chuckled, Honoka looked puzzled for a second then grinned.

“Good one. We’d better move away from the set.”

“Don’t you have to run a camera?” Maki wondered, as both cameras had operators behind them. The set was very bright and isolated, cables running everywhere.

“Nah. Umi’s got me keeping you out of trouble instead.” Honoka headed toward a couple of folding chairs, “We can watch from here.”

Nico, now wearing the supposed “elf hat” had been a whirl on the seat, mixing and grabbing and smiling and kneeling down to assist a little girl onto the counter, where she and Nico sang one of Maki’s favorite Christmas carol, “Jingle Bells.” Then Nico interviewed a local woman collecting toys for inner city families and gave a few fireproof your tree tips.

“This is Nico’s favorite time of year,” Honoka whispered.

“Really?” Maki smiled as Nico perched on the counter, elf hat askew, candy cane lips wrapping themselves around the words to “Happy Holidays.”

“So leave a peppermint stick for old St. Nick hanging on the Christmas tree” Nico crooned as Maki substituted peppermint lipstick in the lyrics and tried to keep her attention on whatever Honoka was saying. But Honoka had paused too as Nico swung one well toned calf over the other and blew a kiss toward the camera.

“Yep. She always makes a huge plate of cookies for everyone.” Honoka licked her lips and leaned back, hands linked behind her head. “And brings leftovers for sandwiches the day after her big family meal.”

Maki remembered the gritty taste of the cookies and wondered about Honoka’s enthusiasm. Nico waved at the camera as she finished, winked at Maki, let someone take the mic off her and bounced over to where Maki and Honoka were sitting.

“I saw you singing along. Nico did well, right?” Nico chirped at Maki, offering her a candy cane.

“Impressive.” Maki nodded, as she stashed the candy cane in her pocket and pulled out her pocket watch, inherited from her great grandfather on the Claus side. The dial had a chimney with stars at the numbers and a moon at the apex. “But I have to get back.”

“Nice setup here right, all the latest tech.” Nico bragged as she tilted her head, curious fingers almost reaching for the pocket watch.

Maki closed her watch. She didn’t have the heart to tell Nico that the North Pole studio set was five times the size with channelled grooves for cables so she put the most awed look she could muster on her face, remembering Nico’s crossing her legs as she sang. “Thanks for inviting me to stop by, Nico. I enjoyed it. Good luck with the rest of your holiday segments.”

“Thanks.” Nico didn’t move as Maki stood, and once again the redhead found herself nearly in the arms of the newscaster as Nico frowned, looking around. “You didn’t get lunch. I packed you a sandwich. Where’d it go, Honoka?”

“Oh, that was for Maki.” Honoka fumbled Maki’s chair as she stood, “I ate that one. I thought it was extra. Sorry.” She tapped Maki on the shoulder, “It was a really good sandwich. You could tell Nico cared.”

Nico glared and muttered, her toe tapping an increasingly urgent rhythm. Honoka headed toward the exit, with a furtive air.

Maki shrugged, “Thanks for the thought.” She considered for a second and took a hand out of her pocket, offering it to Nico. Nico stared down at it, then into Maki’s eyes until the redhead ducked her head, breaking eye contact. Nico took Maki’s hand with a sigh, her handshake warm and firm. Maki was surprised at the strength.

Maki tried to break the handshake but Nico didn’t let go, her other hand covering Maki’s. “Let Nico take you out to lunch sometime, since you missed out today.”

Oh. Maki felt her face redden and her throat constrict. Oh. She pulled her hand back with a sudden backwards leap, “Um...um...I’m pretty busy. But maybe I’ll see you around?”

Nico suddenly looked shorter and Maki was a little sad for upsetting her. “Just turn on your tv. Nico is always there when people need her.”

Maki inhaled, squaring her shoulders, reaching out a not noticeable to anyone but her trembling hand to Nico’s shoulder, “Thanks, Nico. It was nice to see some friendly faces.” And then she smiled, trying to show Nico that she appreciated the offer. Which left Nico a little breathless and a lot confused as Maki speed walked out of the building, a lingering warmth spreading from Nico’s shoulder as the memory of a shy, sweet grin etched itself into Nico’s heart. She turned, puzzled about Maki’s reactions and spotted Umi with her hand in the Christmas cookie pile.

“No, Umi, don’t eat those.” Nico yelled.

Umi paused, a cookie halfway to her mouth, “The shoot’s over. We don’t need them anymore.”

Nico’s heels clicked as she rushed across the floor, “Jill the PA made those.”

“So what?” Umi’s brows furrowed as she examined the cookie.

Exasperated, Nico grabbed the cookie and tossed it into the garbage, “Thanksgiving Day leftover chili Jill the PA…” Nico rolled her hand at Umi, trying to lead her producer to the answer.

“Thanksgiving Day left.....” Umi had a vivid memory of half the staff rushing to the nearest trashcan two hours after the potluck lunch and Kotori coming back from Urgent Care with a with food poisoning diagnosis the Friday after Thanksgiving. Plans to visit Kotori’s family had been torpedoed by cold sweats and disinfecting. Umi hastily dumped the remaining cookies into the trash under the counter, washing her hands for twice the required time.

“So what do you think of Nico’s rescuer?” Nico piled plates into the sink as Umi dried her hands.

“Maki?” Umi handed Nico a plate, “Did you ask her out?”

“She said she was too busy.” Nico bit her lip, “But she seemed surprised at the idea.”

“Do you think she’d not gay?” Umi asked.

Nico shook her head, “Nico knows when someone doesn’t mind looking at Nico.”

“According to Nico, if I remember rightly, Nico is everyone’s favorite view, the reason our ratings are top of the market.” Umi chuckled, glancing at her phone.

“Ha ha,” Nico leaned into Umi, enjoying the friendly warmth, “Nico is serious.”

Umi let Nico rest for a minute, considering, “You have her number. Try again. Maybe she’s nervous. Try texting.”

“Is that how you’re going to ask Koto…” Nico teased.

“Be at the van in 20 minutes,” Umi moved briskly toward the exit Honoka had taken, “We have to get out to the Tree Farm.”

Nico pulled her hat off her head, smiling at it fondly as the bell tinkled, “Today, Nico is a Christmas elf.”

“Ditch the heels and the height’s…” Umi lingered in the doorway.

“Next time I’ll let you eat the poison cookies.” Nico threatened, leaving the hat on the counter for a PA to deal with.

“Honoka can’t navigate without me.” Umi’s voice carried back.

“Nico has GPS!” Nico shouted, then laughed at herself as the people scurrying to strike the set decorations stared at her.

After a day made longer by a stomach that had decided not to agree with something she’d eaten, Maki got into her hotel room, tossed her hat toward the desk and fell into the sofa, whipping out her phone. She blamed the cookie. Rin would be disappointed.

SantaChan: So @StormCookie, why can’t the girls I think look cute ever cook?

The reply was immediate.

StormCookie: I look cute and am the best cook you’ll ever meet.

SantaChan: and yet, I see no pictures. Or location.

StormCookie: 1. Celebrity, can’t reveal identity. Bosses wouldn’t appreciate side gig.

SantaChan: we’re dm’ing

StormCookie: nothing on the internet is private. 2. Also, Cute is more than looks. Or are you that shallow? Shallow is NOT cute.

Maki snarled at her phone, tempted to toss it after her hat. Then she breathed out, shaking her head at herself. No need to let a bad mood fester. Or inflict the sour taste in her mouth on someone who had become a friend.

SantaChan: Sorry, just grumpy. I’m tired of never knowing what to do when someone’s cute and I feel like a grubby, awkward slob. Plus, I ate bad food.

StormCookie: Ooh, sorry about the bad food. I had to save someone from that today

Maki wondered where StormCookie had been when she needed her.

StormCookie: Have room service bring you ginger ale or ginger tea. And you are obviously 100% Cute Girl™. Don’t worry. Dating’s simple. You can try out my easy system. It’ll be a good listicle for my blog.

SantaChan ●.◉

StormCookie: Trust me. First step: get out of your hotel room.

SantaChan: No.

StormCookie: Go see a movie. Eat dinner somewhere with simple food -- and flirt with a waitress. For practice. It’ll take your mind off things that didn’t go right.

SantaChan (▼-▼*)

StormCookie: Trust me. Get out of your hotel room ᕕ(╯°□°)ᕗ At least go downstairs to the restaurant. Or find a bar with a pool table.

SantaChan: There’s a place with pinball machines….

StormCookie: See, that sounds fun. Get out of your hotel room.

SantaChan (-｡-; All right.

StormCookie: Ginger ale first and nothing spicy (＾-＾)＿日

How could Maki get room service to deliver StormCookie to her room? That would be the easiest solution. The best parts of Maki’s days were the nights when she and StormCookie would just chat.

SantaChan d(-_^)

StormCookie: Then get out and talk to someone.

SantaChan ∠(^ー^)

StormCookie: Let me know when you need Step 2.

SantaChan: Thanks. Good night (⌒.−)＝★

StormCookie: Have fun! That’s an order （σ｀・∀・´）σ

Maki left her phone on the table and pulled the blanket up to her chin. How long did she have to wait until the nightly news? Would Nico’s segment look different edited. Nico. Maki stared at the ceiling -- not stripey -- and pictured Nico in front of her, so close she could smell the peppermint her lips must taste like, crimson eyes bright and warm. Maki wondered what would happen if she texted Nico after the broadcast to find out if the lunch offer still stood.

A/N Hi there. This year I'm channelling The Shop Around The Corner and You've Got Mail rather than Hallmark or Lifetime movies, but the intent is still to be so much gayer than any Christmas content you'll find on your TV, while giving still giving you that good old fashioned holiday fun feeling.

Enjoy!

#nicomaki #Love Live #Christmas #yazawa nico #nishikino maki #nozoeli #hoshizora rin #sonoda umi #kosaka honoka #minami kotori #tojo nozomi #koizumi hanayo #Santa Cutie And The Christmas Cookie Queen #ho ho ho #Yes Maki is Santa Jr #are you surprised

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funkymeihem-fiction · 7 years

Text

Meihem Movie Night (They Watch Mad Max)

“Movie night! Movie night! Oi, Roadie! Where the hell are the clean sheets! I know you said we had some!” Junkrat called, his voice muffled from where he was buried halfway inside a half-broken wardrobe. Both arms moved rapidly in an almost digging motion, throwing out bomb casings, spare traps, scrap metal bits, and other garbage into a growing pile on the floor behind him. A few moments later, and he emerged holding an armful of white cloth that was streaked with black and gray. “You said you were gonna clean them! These ain’t clean!”

The gargantuan junker didn’t look up from his book on the other side of the room, sitting on his special-made bench that was still starting to sag in the middle from the sheer weight of him. He had discarded his usual armor, and wore nothing but a pair of Pachimari! Say Hello! print pajama pants and some slippers that might have been white at some point in distant history. “They don’t stay clean if you put dirty things on top of them.”

“She can’t sleep on these!” Junkrat snapped, unfurling them and inspecting the grease and soot as though it suddenly bothered him, even as his own fingers left dirty prints on what remained of the white cloth. “I’ll go get some clean ones, love. They think I can’t get into that supply closet down the hall, but I know h-”

Mei held up both hands quickly. “It’s fine, honestly. I brought a clean blanket just in case, I can sleep on top of it.” She held up one of her many cozy flannel comforters, this one a dark blue print that she knew would be the easiest one to clean after withstanding a night in bed with Junkrat. Even after showering, the man just attracted grime to the point where she honestly thought of studying him as a scientific anomaly. Her own sheets had testified to that many times over now. “This will be just fine.”

“Sleepin’ on top of it? What if you get cold?” Junkrat looked unsure, scratching at the back of his singed scalp.

“Well…You’ll keep me warm, won’t you?”

A pleased flush warmed his cheeks, his grin widening. “Yeah! Yeah I will!”

“It’s not the first time I’ve slept over here, Jamie, you don’t need to make a fuss every single time. We can always go back to my room again, and I’d hate to put you out or anything, Mr. Roadhog.” She glanced over to the larger junker, who merely turned another page in his book.

“Mm. It’s fine.”

“Naw, you ain’t putting him out. Or me. Just thought I’d really remember the damn sheets this time…Well, if it don’t bother you, just sleep on your blanket and I promise I will keep every little bit of you nice and toasty.” He licked his chops rather lecherously, and she half lidded her eyes at him as he continued. “From your cute lil’ button nose, all the way down to your adorable little toes, and then maybe back up to your-”

“Jamison!” She elbowed him hard in the side before he could finish the thought. “Tài dà shēng le! I’m going to get changed. Jamie, you get the movie queued up. Mr. Roadhog, would you keep him away from the food until we’re all ready?”

Junkrat was already starting to creep towards the table, where two large bags of Chinese take-out (with the closest things she could find to her native cuisine) were steaming merrily away into the air. Roadhog nodded, and then launched out one enormous hand, two fingers that were as thick as Mei’s wrist suddenly pinching onto the top of Junkrat’s ear and pulling him away as the younger junker complained loudly, single foot scraping for hold. “Owowow! I was just going to get a whiff, mates, swear it!”

“Well last time we had to order more because all Roadhog and I had to eat was soy sauce, after you ‘whiffed’ it all with your mouth!” Mei called back, shutting the bathroom door behind her.

She was fairly certain she heard him call something crude about the other ways he was going to use his mouth, but she merely rolled her eyes, navigating the disaster zone that was the junkers’ shared bathroom. It looked like someone, probably Roadhog or one of the cleaning bots, had at least made an effort to do some repairs and tidying up, but there was still a fine layer of soot on every surface, cracked tiles on the floor and walls, Junkrat’s signature smiley face drawn in soap on the mirror, and a hastily patched ceiling where he had been caught making an escape tunnel above the toilet ‘just in case’. Still, even all this was an upgrade compared to the first time she had ventured in here…She shuddered a bit, trying not to think of it as she changed into her pajamas and plucked out her snowflake pin, hair tumbling down around her shoulders. She heard the sounds of a scuffle outside, but after hearing a thump and a few indignant squawks, she was fairly certain who had won.

By the time she padded back out to the main room, the movie was paused on the title screen, and Roadhog was sitting on the ground with his book, his enormous weight pinning the scrawny flailing form of his employer under him. It was amazing that Junkrat hadn’t been completely crushed, but he was still putting up a rather vicious fight, swinging both fists uselessly against Hog’s legs. “Oi! Get off, you giant pig of a drongo! Mei! Mei, darl, gimme a hand here! Do you see what I got to deal with every day?”

Mei shuffled past him, polar bear slippers passing inches away from his seeking arms as she went to the table, counting over dishes and setting up drinks. Satisfied, she nodded to Roadhog a moment later. “All right, it’s still all here. Come and get it. I ordered your favorite, Mr. Roadhog! Baozi dumplings!” She held up one of the bags, bulging from the amount of food meant all for him.

Roadhog huffed inside his mask, groaning as he shifted his immense weight up off the floor, abandoning the rather flattened young man under him still half pressed into the linoleum. He settled down onto a half-broken armchair a moment later, which creaked ominously under him. “Mmm. Thanks.”

Mei nodded, busily setting up the other bag of food and popping the tops off of several bottles of Chinese beers, taking a seat on the sagging couch and leaving Junkrat to peel himself off the floor and stagger towards her. “Jamie, there you are!” she called cheerfully. “I ordered you some char siu barbecue and chow mein…and for me, vegetarian luóhàn zhāi and zongzi!” she said, ignoring the face he was making at the pile of vegetables and greenery that made up her own dish.

“Still not too late to share a proper tucker with me, love,” he said, wrinkling his nose before turning more eagerly on the piles of pork and noodles in his own take-out box. “Come on, come on! There’s a reason they always try to make tofu taste like somethin’ else, ya know. Crispy pork belly, now, that’s a meal. Can’t believe I was missin’ out on all these China dishes before, you lot can make even the arse-ends of the animal taste good! Uh..uh, xièxiè. Hǎochī? Means uh, tasty, right?”

“Hǎochī! That was very good! And also, no thank you, I’ll leave the meat to you two,” she beamed, even though his accent mangled the syllables. She sat watching as Roadhog set out stack upon stack of trays of bao buns, holding two tiny-looking chopsticks between his giant fingertips and lifting the edge of his mask, delicately starting to nibble with his scarred lips, above the mangled flesh of his stubbled chin. She looked away quickly after. It would be rude to stare, and even after all this time, Roadhog was still not keen on anyone seeing his true face.

Maybe one day…

“Oi, Mei. Got a treat for us tonight! It’s a Mad Max!” Junkrat joined her on the couch and covetously pulled his food into his lap, hunching over it like a vulture as he sipped his beer. Roadhog grumbled slightly around a mouthful of dumpling, and Junkrat shot him a glare before continuing. “We haven’t watched it that many times, Roadie. And it’s a real good one.”

“Is it a new one?”

“Nah, one of the ones in the middle. It’s called Fury Road!” His eyes went dreamy. “One of the best ones. It’s got everything a man could want. Or, uh, a lady. It’s got everything anyone could want, I mean. Explosions, cars, fire, red storms, sexy ladies, more explosions, a guitar what shoots fire, cars, explosions, war boys, heroics, a guy who’s not all there in the head just like me but he’s still mostly good kinda, explosions…”

Mei looked confused, chewing on a mouthful of sauce and broccoli and speaking around it. She could afford to be at least a little more rude around the junkers without them minding…or usually even noticing. “Mmf? Izzat shequel to Thunder Dome?”

“Nah, nah, it’s like, I dunno, it’s all Mad Max but it’s not the same guy and it’s the same place but things are different.”

“What?”

“You’ll see! You’re gonna love it!” He crowed, and slammed the play button with one calloused thumb.

Roadhog started in on his fourth tray of dumplings, and Mei leaned up against Junkrat’s side as they ate, the screen going dark as a guttural voice began to narrate an all-too-familiar tale to their rapt junker audience.

“My name is Max. My world is fire…And blood…”

***

The credits rolled.

Roadhog was sitting in his comfy chair with his hands folded over his enormous belly, snoring softly inside his mask from where he had fallen asleep halfway through, abandoned empty trays scattered around his feet. Mei wondered to herself how he slept through a movie that was basically one action-packed and explosion-filled car chase, but she figured that he and Junkrat must have watched it a hundred times over, and he had probably lived and slept through worse.

Mei lay wrapped in her blanket, head resting on Junkrat’s thigh, atop the striped boxers she’d insisted he start wearing at night. His flesh hand toyed idly with her hair, combing his fingers through the length of it as he asked aloud, “Well? What did ya think? Great movie, ain’t it!”

“I liked it. And I can definitely see why you like it. You know, it’s pretty impressive considering how old it is.”

“Right? It’s sort of like if the whole world ended, not just Oz. So, whaddaya think, I’m just like Max, ain’t I?” He fumbled with a lock of her hair, idly trying to figure out how to braid it. “Just like him.”

She kept her head still, though her eyes rolled up behind her glasses to try and see him, the edges of his features blurred without her lenses. “You’re not Max.”

“Oi!”

“You know who’s Max? 76. The brooding soldier sort with the haunted past, and he mostly speaks in stern grunts?”

“…You know what, Snowflake, I’ll give you that one.”

“You’re more like Nux,” she said, sitting up. “…It was Nux, right? The nice war boy?”

“Yeah! Arright, Nux is a good sort. Still think I’m like Max, though. Ya know, I used to joke around and call Roadie, Imporkan Joe. But he said he found it ‘distasteful’, whatever that means. What about you, you wanna be my ferocious truck-revvin’ Furiosa?”

Mei smiled a little, starting to clear away the bottles and plates of bones and food scraps. “Oh, I’m not really the Furiosa sort.”

“You can be a wife, then.”

“So I’m one of the wives? Doesn’t that mean I belong to Imporkan Joe? Did the wives have names? I can’t remember.”

“Of course they did! And you don’t belong to him, you can belong with me, that’s like the whole point.” He wrapped both arms around her waist, abruptly pulling her back into his lap and bringing his sharp teeth to nibble at her neck. “You can be Toast, she’s the smart one. Or Capable, she’s the brave one, and she’s in love with me. I mean, Nux.”

“They have very strange names. Although I guess the junkers do too. How did you even choose Junkrat?”

“Didn’t choose it per se, just sort of happens. You’d get a name too, eventually. Like…Mei the Mag, Mistress She-Panda, Frigi-vicious, or IceTits…”

“Those are horrible!”

“Don’t put me on the damn spot then, darl! I’m just sayin’, names happen. Take it from your favorite rat.” He soothed her with several kisses to the top of her head, even as she squirmed in protest. “Aw come on, we don’t have to decide on a name now, you can still be my sexy battle wife on the Fury Road…Kinda liking this idea more and more, actually. Say it with me, Mei. Sexy battle wife.”

“Y-you spout the most outlandish things, I swear,” she murmured, looking away to hide the redness of her cheeks. “Although…”

He brightened, smushing his cheek against hers. “Although?”

“This might be the beer talking but I have a really silly idea and…Just go to your bedroom and I’ll see you in a minute?”

Junkrat’s eyes widened, and he was so eager he almost threw her right off his lap in his excitement, half tumbling off the couch as his peg creaked in protest. “Bedroom! Right, yeah! Do I uh, do I need to get anything ready, or…?”

“No, no, just…go in there and close your eyes, and I’ll be in before this idea has the chance to sound even sillier than it is,” she said, waving him off.

The junker scrambled into his cramped sleeping quarters, a tiny side room from their main living area, with little more than his bed and an overflowing dresser full of his personal hoard. Hopping up onto the squeaking mattress, he waited. He heard the bathroom door open and shut again, over the sound of Hog’s snoring, and clamped both hands over his face when he heard a soft knock at his door. “All right, love! I’m not even peekin’, not even a little! Come on in!”

He heard it creak open and shut behind her, before her voice piped up sheepishly, “Okay. Honestly, I just thought it might be fun, but now it seems a little…Well, you can look now.”

He pried apart two fingers, one eye peeking through. Mei stood looking a bit embarrassed, wearing nothing more than the dirty off-white sheets from before, wrapped around her in a poor attempt to emulate the wispy gowns and cloth strips from the wives of the movie. It had ended up as more of a crude toga of sorts, and she had to keep one arm wrapped around her chest where the cloth kept falling away, and she laughed as she hiked the skirt back up around her hips.

“I was just playing around,” she said, “Honestly, I don’t see how anyone could fight while wearing stuff li-”

Junkrat’s arms were suddenly around her, and she found herself being dragged down onto the bed, dirty sheets and all. His dilated pupils stared up at her, rimmed with vivid yellow as he started to wrestle her down onto the mattress as she fought to keep her wraps in place, his toothy jaws already starting to kiss and bite hungrily at her exposed skin. “Nope!” he said, throwing one leg up to pin her hips into place, her ragged sheet-toga pulled up along with it. “Nope, you come in here dressed like one of my favorite things, you’re committed! Movie gets my blood pumpin’ already, and now you’re my sexy battle wife!”

She tried to stifle a laugh, and it came out as a rather nasal little squeal as his fingertips tickles her bare ribs. “Jamison, āi yā! It was just a joke!”

“No jokin’ now, love. This is serious as the grave,” he said, even as his maniac grin spread across his face. “Brace your tits for impact. Now I’m gonna take you for a real ride on the Fury Road!”

***

Roadhog awoke, yet again, to the muffled sound of squeaking springs and moaning behind the door. Grumbling at the inconvenience, he shuffled a slippered foot amongst the discarded boxes to see if perhaps he’d left a dumpling behind.

He hadn’t.

Rubbing at his masked face wearily as he heard Junkrat crowing again about what a lovely day it was, in the middle of the damn night, he groped blindly for the remote. With a few clicks, the movie skipped back to the menu and restarted itself, as the narration started about fire and blood once more. He turned the volume up as the soothing sounds of explosions and bloodshed returned, drowning out the noises he knew were still happening in the next room.

Folding his hands back across his belly, he bowed his masked head and fell back asleep.

#overwatch #fanfiction #meihem #meirat #junkmei #junkrat #jamison fawkes #mei #mei-ling zhou #roadhog #mako rutledge #mad max #funkyfluff

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