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angelliev · 4 years

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Lover Boy - JJ Maybank x OC - Part Eight - Slow Dance

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: Aria surprises JJ with a very steamy surprise.

Warnings: Smut, cursing, a little bit of angst.

A/N: I am going to hell for this, fuck it. I hope you guys enjoy. (Not my GIF. Credits to the owner. I don’t own the show or the characters.)

Lover Boy Series Master List

Innocence is definitely something I no longer have. I have been tainted by JJ’s love. I have done unspeakable adulterous thing with him ever since the night he made me his, and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. Tonight’s the night I take his breath away. As of now, my parent’s luggage is being loaded into the back of their SUV, getting ready to take the private jet to Las Vegas.

“You sure you’re okay with staying here by yourself? It’s not too late to tag along.” My mother asked once more, as tempting as the offer is, I rather have JJ all to myself with no interruptions. “I’ll be fine mom really. I’m just tired of traveling. I rather just settle down.” I reassure her. “Okay, but you call me if anything happens. There’s money on the counter for food, gas or whatever you need. If it’s not enough just give me a call.” “I will. Have fun mom. I love you.” She smiles sweetly before planting a kiss on my head. “Love you too sweetie. I’ll see you later.” She enters the car. My father doesn’t even bother to say goodbye, due to his grumpy attitude. I wave goodbye as they drive away.

Once the car is out of sight, I sprint back into the house and upstairs to my room. “They’re gone.” I announced. Sarah pops out of the closet with a devilish smile on her face. “Show me the goods.” She demands, referring to the three boxes under my bed. I decide to tease her by opening one of them slowly. “Oh my god! Open them already!” She pleads. I finally give in, throwing the top off and revealing a very extravagant red lingerie set. Her jaw drops to the ground. She touches the soft lace. “Oh my god this is so gorgeous.” She says stunned. Red is JJ’s favorite color. “Holy shit. And it’s tailored?” She asked astonished. “Yep. I also got some nice red platform heels. And last but not least,” I reach under the bed for the last package. “A dancing pole.”

“Oh my god. JJ is not going to be able to take his hands off you!” She said laughing. “That’s the goal.” I say. Tonight, I am planning on taking JJ to the boat my parents own, and give him performance he’ll never forget. “Damn, look at you taking it to the next level. Looks like I need to take some notes from you and up my game with John B.” The two of laugh. “C’mon, I still need to set up this pole and the platform.” I try to rush her out of the house and into the car. “Just please use protection. I’m too young to be an aunt.” Sarah flips her hair and I just laugh.

A few hours later…

Everything is ready. From the pole to my lingerie hidden underneath my clothes. I can barely contain my excitement as I drove over to Heyward’s, where JJ should just be finishing with his deliveries. He’s going to be stoked when he sees what I have for him. I wait patiently in the car. I see him walk out counting his money before putting it in his pocket. I roll down my window before asking, “Where might you be heading sugar?” He turns to look at me with a surprised expression on his face. “Take me to dreamland.” He decided to play along before hopping in.

He lips land on mine in a loving kiss, filled with passion and warmth. His hands find my waist and his lips detach from mine to find my neck. I giggle at how it tickles a little. “Mm, Jay?” He simply hums. “As much as I’d love to see where this is heading, we should probably save it for the bedroom, after all this isn’t the most private place.” “I want to make love to you so bad right now baby.” He whines. “Soon baby soon. I’m going to take good care of you tonight. I promise.” I let my hand palm his growing bulge. “But for now, I need you to put this on.” I take his bandana out of my hair, handing it to him. He gives me a questioning look. “I have a surprise for you.” I say. He just smirks. “Oh yeah? What is it?” He asks as he covers his eyes with the cloth. “If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise.” I say.

JJ’s leg tapped anxiously the whole way to the docks. I have to admit that I enjoyed watching him squirm in his seat. I approach his side of the car, opening the door and taking his hand. “Why do I have a bad feeling about all of this?” He asked. “Oh hush. You can trust me. You’re going to love this. Just keep that blindfold on.” I demand as I guided him through the docks and onto the boat. Once we’re inside and the lights turn on, I lead him to the living room where I have everything situated. I moved the table and rearranged the furniture earlier. I sit him down on the white leather couch. He tries to get a feel as to where he is.

“Just relax baby. Keep that on.” I leave him for a moment to remove my clothes, leaving me in the sexy red lingerie and he is so clueless. I turn off the lights only to turn on the LED lights that are installed throughout the yacht and the stage. Lastly, I quickly put on my platform high heels. I take a deep breath as I step onto the stage. I try to relax my shaking hand that’s holding a small remote.

“You can take it off now.” I give him permission. He hastily removes the bandana, eager to know what I’m up to, then he looked up. His eyes bulged, I thought they were going to pop out. His jaw dropped for a few seconds before it turned into a smile. His eyes took in my provocative appearance. He was absolutely speechless. “What do you think babe?” I asked curious. He just lets out a low whistle and runs a hand through his hair. He looks around the room for a second before his attention turns back on me. He bites his lip before licking it. My eyes catch his bulge.

“I think you look like a fucking goddess babygirl.” A blush creeps its way onto my cheeks. “I’m glad you like what you see. Now, just sit back and enjoy the show.” I say seductively. I hit the play button on the remote. “Dangerous Woman” by Ariana Grande plays throughout the speakers. I toss the remote on the couch, before taking a hold of the pole. I begin to perform my dance, remembering each and every step of the choreography, I’ve been practicing for a while now. I can practically feel JJ’s eyes burning into my swinging hips. I do a rather slow dance while circling the pole, wanting to tease him. When the main chorus comes on, I let my leg hook around the pole, spinning the rest of my body and flipping my hair.

JJ whistles and that’s when he notices the cash on the table next to him. A smirk is plastered on his face when he takes the money in his hands. He smiles as he begins to make it rain. The dollar bills fall through the air, onto my body and to the stage. I’ve never felt so empowered and admired when I saw the lust and hunger in his eyes.

When the chorus ended and the beat slowed down, I began to slow dance on the floor of the stage. I got down on all fours swinging my hips, ass in full view for JJ. His hand squeezes my ass before giving it a light smack, making me bite my lip, not wanting to moan just yet. He takes a few bills, lifts up one of the straps of my lingerie, and places the money there before giving it one last light slap, making me giggle. The wetness from my core was beginning to dampen my panties. I turn face him and get a little closer, take a hold of his face with my white sparkly nails, and bring his face to my barely covered breasts. I could feel his smile and hot breath fan my breast as I shimmy them on his face.

He gives them a kiss and placing a few bills under the clothing, before I got up once again, returning to the pole when the chorus came back. This time I surprised him when I climbed up higher and began performing multiple stunts, such as table top, swan, viva and last, which seemed to really impress JJ, the Gemini. This one is my particular favorite. I couldn’t help but smile when I hung upside down and heard JJ whooping as he continued to make it rain. For the ending, I came back down to the stage, positioned myself into a split giving JJ yet another full view of my ass, before twerking. This made him absolutely wild, throwing the rest of money into the air, all of it coming down on me.

The song finally comes to an end, but we’re far from over. I made sure of that when I got off the stage before pushing JJ back onto the couch. “Slow Dance” by Keri Hilson comes on as I begin to play around with my strap, letting them fall. JJ sits back, arms stretched across the back off the couch, legs spread out just a little, showing off his growing bulge. His eyes darken as I continue with the strip tease. I decide to finally give in to his pleading eyes, letting the lingerie pool around my feet along with the money, living me completely naked in front of his burning gaze.

I approach him with an agonizing pace, never breaking eye contact. When I’m finally close to him, I turn my back to him, and situate myself into his lap. I slowly begin to grind on him, his hands roam my curves before resting on my ass. He then places a kiss on my neck, taking me by surprise and making my breath hitch only slightly. I turn my head to look back to see a beaming smile on his face. A smirk creeps onto my face, knowing what’s next.

I remove myself from his lap, earning a whimper from him, only to be content when he sees me get down on my knees right in front of him. He licks his lips when I begin to pull down his shorts, his member springs out, the tip already leaking from pre cum. “Awe, is all of this for me? Don’t worry daddy. I’m going to take good care of you.” I say in the most seductive voice I could muster up. “Fuck, babygirl you’re going to be the death of me.” He confesses when he sees my innocent eyes look up at him as I run my tongue up his shaft. I trail kisses up his dick, before spreading the pre cum over his tip. I place one light kiss before taking it in my lip.

He sighs out of relief. He’s most likely not going to last long, since I’ve been teasing him all night. I continue to bob my head with hollow cheeks and run my hand on the rest of his exposed member. I never take my eyes off him. Above me sits JJ in a moaning mess. Little does he know I still have one last trick up my sleeve. I remove my hand that was pumping him, only to take the rest of him into my mouth, deepthroating him.

“Oh, shit babe. I’m not going to last long.” His hips begin to buck causing me to gag slightly, tears brimming my eyes. I decide to begins to fondle his balls, speeding up the process in attempt to bring him closer to orgasm. I was indeed right. His head is thrown back as he starts to curse. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Before I knew it, his dick twitches before his hot cum hits the back of my throat. I swallow every last drop of his seed, feeling it run down my throat. I’m satisfied with my work when I find him flushed and dazed. He doesn’t even know that we’re far from done.

I crawl back into his lap and let my hand pump him a few times, making him hard once again. I grab a hold of his shoulders before placing my drenched honey pot above him, the heat practically radiating off of me. My pussy has been aching all day for him. I couldn’t believe I was only seconds away from having him inside me. The two of us let out loud and satisfied moans when I finally sink my hips down on him, taking him inch by delicious inch.

I let myself adjust to him for a few seconds before lifting up my hips, leaving just the tip in, before slamming back down with such force. His hands grab a hold of my hips, guiding my movements while thrusting upwards. We don’t hold back any of our moans as our bodies rock together, enjoying the feeling of my lusciously smooth walls squeezing him so nice and perfect, hitting all the right spots. “This is where you belong babygirl. Your sweet pussy gripping my dick. God, you ride me so well. I just want to fuck you so hard and make sweet love to you babygirl.” “It’s all yours daddy.” I mewl. “Fuck yeah it is. God, I love watching you bouncing on my dick.” His mouth attaches to my breast before reaching down to rub figure eights on my clit.

The familiar feeling approaches my stomach. My walls begin to clench around him. “JJ, I’m so close.” I whine. “Cum babygirl. Cum all over me. Milk my cock. I’m going to fill you up with my cum. You want that babygirl?” He asked. “God, yes please! I want you to fill me up daddy! I want to feel your cum inside me!” I exclaim. “Cum babygirl.” With just that, my silk like walls clamp around him, practically milking him dry of cum, that shoots up inside me, coating my walls.

My body goes limp and my head rests on his shoulder, our hot breath fans each other’s ears as we fight to catch our breath. His hands never leave my naked body. “You are just full of surprises. You know that?” His hair tickles my face. “I’m glad you liked it baby. I love you so much JJ.” I peck his lips. “I love you too Aria. You’re an absolute goddess. I swear, when I die, it’s going to be you greeting me at the gates of heaven.” He kisses my lips. “Just you and me.” I sigh. “You and I will be gods together baby.” He whispers into my ear, making me giggle.

“Would this god like to take a dip in the hot tub with his goddess?” I motion to outside. “Fuck yeah he would.” The two of us giggle nonstop on the way to the hot tub. We didn’t even bother to put on swimsuits, as we skinny dipped in the warm bubbly water.

We sat together in comfortable silence as we watched the night sky while sipping on our cold beers. JJ and I would point out a few constellations that we spotted. The two of laughed when I pointed one out saying it looks like a penis. He can just be so childish sometimes.

After relaxing in the jacuzzi for a while, we decided to take a shower, shower sex, before drying off and crawling in bed together. For the remainder of the night we just talked, about anything. Sweet and intimate pillow talk.

We lay naked together in silence for a bit. I trace circles on his chest, while his fingers play with my hair. I can’t help but gaze at his beautiful features. He looks a little bit like his dad, but part of me still wonders what his mother looks like. I bet she has same gorgeous blonde hair and soft ocean blue eyes as JJ.

“What are you thinking about?” Asked JJ. I hesitated for a moment. I never asked him about his mother. All I really know about her is that she left when he was young. “Can I ask you something personal?” I bite my lip nervously. “Go ahead.” He gives permission. “What was your mom like?” His face fell for a split second. I began to regret asking.

“She was gorgeous.” He started. “Her name was Summer. Her hair was long and wavy. I got lucky. She had the prettiest eyes ever. Another thing I’m grateful for inheriting.” He chuckles. His own eyes seemed to light up as he remembers her. “She was carefree, kind and happy. She loved to swim, paint, cook and play. Her favorite color was yellow. She loved daisies. I don’t know why, but one of her most absolute favorite things were daisies. I remember always bringing some home to her whenever I’d find them. She’d let me put them in her hair. She used to call me sunshine.”

He grabs his wallet from off the nightstand. He opens it up and pulls out a couple polaroids before handing them to me. In the picture, I see this beautiful smiling young woman holding a much younger JJ. She looks so much like him with the hair, eyes and smile. Daisies were placed in her hair. The other was one of her placing a loving kiss on JJ’s cheek.

“She’s so pretty, and you’re so adorable.” He smiles down at me. “She had the most beautiful voice too. She’d always sing to me. She gave me the biggest hugs and the sweetest kisses. She had such big heart.” His eyes seemed to have become slightly glossy. I snuggle closer to him. “What happened?” I whisper.

“My dad. After he started getting into drugs, alcohol and smuggling, he just changed. He became violent and always took it out on her. He’d hit, kick, punch and stomp on her. Most nights I’d just hold her as she cried herself to sleep. One night my dad was having another one of his rages, he pulled her by the hair and put a knife to her neck. That night she sang me a song, kissed me on the cheeks, and in the morning, I woke up and she was gone.” He stares up at the ceiling.

“JJ, I’m so sorry.” A tear slips down my cheek. “It’s not your fault. You’re not the one who left. I think the worst part is that even though she left, I couldn’t find the strength to hate her. I still love her to this day. I’d give anything to hug her again, or just to hear her voice. I just wish I knew she was okay.” His lip quivers.

I kiss him softly. I couldn’t understand how a mother could leave her child behind like that, especially with someone like Luke. “There’s nothing wrong with you still loving her. She’s your mom.” He just sighs. “I know. I just really miss her. Sometimes I wish she took me with her, but then I wouldn’t have met John B, Pope, Kie and most importantly you.” His soft eyes lay on mine. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I wouldn’t trade anything in the world. I love you.” He kisses me sweetly. “I love you too JJ. You’re the only one for me.”

#jj maybank smut #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj x oc #obx netflix #obx fanfiction #lana del rey

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ilovefandoms102 · 4 years

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Part 23

Summary: John B. escapes, but not like how you thought he would...

Taglist:

@jeyramarie @iamaunicorn4704 @ma10427 @lonely-kermit @gviosca @justcallmesams @eb15 @outerbongs @hurricane-abigail @runway-to-my-aid @lasnaro @agirlwholovescoffee @fernweh-fangirl @lopineapples @jellyfishbeansontoast @tangledinsparkles

Part 22

AU:Part 24

Note: I started a new series featuring an OC and Kylo Ren/Ben Solo on my Wattpad under the same username! If you like Star Wars go check it out!

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We waited for what felt like hours for John B., I started to grow worried if something bad had happened. I paced around my yard while the other Pogues chilled on the porch. I pulled out my phone, anxiously waiting for a text or a call at least from my brother. He should have already been here.

“Where the hell is he?” I asked, turning to face my friends.

“Maybe there were complications?” Kie said as more of a question. I could see she was almost as worried as I was.

“You’re stressing yourself out too much baby, take a breather.” JJ said, standing to play with his hacky sack.

Just then we heard a car coming up to the chateau, a police car. We all jumped into action, I backed up closer to the boat. John B. jumped out of the driver side, all of us sighing in relief. I ran to my brother, crushing him into a hug.

“You scared the shit out of me asshole” I said, playfully shoving him.

“Is everything ready to go?” he asked, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and crying. My heart tightened in my chest, I wasn’t prepared to let him go.

“Yeah, I packed some stuff for you.” I said, all of us walking to the boat.

“Love you man, be careful.” Pope said, doing their handshake before embracing for a brief moment.

“Please don’t do anything stupid.” Kie said, tears streaming down her face as she hugged him.

“I love you bro, we’ll meet ya down the coast as soon as we can.” JJ said, the two boys embracing each other for a long moment. I could see tears in JJ’s eyes, despite him trying to put on the tough guy act.

“I hate this so much” I whispered, tears pouring down my face. My brother and I both sobbed when it came to our turn to hug each other.

“I-I don’t want to leave you,” John B. cried, burying his face into my neck and I doing the same to him.

“I know, I don’t want you to go either Birdie.” I whispered.

“I love you so so much Bubba. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’re my best friend.” JB blubbered, squeezing me tighter.

“Do I beat Sarah?” I asked, earning a watery laugh from John B.

“Of course, you’re my sister. Do I beat JJ?” he asked, sniffling.

“Hey!” JJ yelled jokingly, earning a laugh from all of us.

“Yes of course you do Birdie, you were my first friend. My twin, we literally have shared our whole lives together.” I said, rubbing his back before pulling away. He got on the boat, looking back at us.

“Thank you guys, I’m sorry I got us into this mess” he said, tearing up again. The Pogues held each other close.

“At least we did it together,” I said, looking at my friends then back to John B..

John B. pulled away from the dock, turning back to wave one more time. When he turned back around, my chest started to burn. I let out a choked sob, JJ putting his arms around me from behind and laying his head on my shoulder. Kie and Pope coming to hug me as well. The chateau was then surrounded by hundreds of cops, I grabbed on to JJ tight.

“Where did he go?” one cop asked.

“He’s gone” JJ said.

“You kids come with us” Shouppe said, several cops coming to push us into the vehicles.

We were driven to the Cameron’s where the police had a huge tent set up. I spotted Ward talking to some policemen. My blood boiled, wanting nothing more than to strangle that man myself for what he did to my brother. I was brought to a separate tent, joined by two officers.

“Do you know where your brother is going?” one asked.

“Even if I did know I wouldn’t say shit, you have the wrong person blamed for the sheriff’s murder. It was not my brother.” I said, leaning back to cross my arms.

“There is a tropical storm your brother is driving straight into, with Mr.Cameron’s daughter on board-” the other officer stated, getting agitated by my attitude.

“Sarah is very capable of making her own choices officer, my brother has nothing to do with that!” I yelled, getting angrier by the minute.

“We’re trying to save your brother from this storm” he said.

“No! You want him to come back so you can throw him in jail for a crime he didn’t commit!” I shouted, pounding my fists on the table.

“And how do you know he didn’t do it?” the other one asked.

“I was there you idiots!” I yelled, they both looked at each other confused.

“I see Ward left that out that I witnessed what actually happened.” I said, relaxing now that I thought they might actually listen to what I have to say. Maybe they would even believe me.

There was a sudden commotion comig from the other side of the tent, both officers rushing out, I followed behind them. Ward was talking on a radio, I immediately grew anxious.

“Son, just come back. You won’t make it through the storm, John B. we just want you and Sarah safe.” Ward said, actually acting concerned.

“You killed my father, and you tried to kill me and my sister. Then, you blamed me for a crime I didn’t commit! Fuck you Ward!” my brother said from the other end of the radio.

The officers looked at Ward, Shouppe saying they needed to question him. I went to find my friends, spotting them in another tent they had set up. JJ jumped up as soon as he saw me, pulling me into his arms.

“You ok sweets?” he asked, brushing some of my hair out of my face.

“Ward didn’t tell the officers I was there when Rafe shot the sheriff. I think this might really be an asset on JB’s part. They radioed him and he spilled how Ward tried to kill us and that he killed dad.” I said.

I sat back down with JJ, leaning my head on his shoulder as we waited for the officers to give us an update. The rain was coming down hard, the wind blowing water inside the tent. I shivered from the chill of the wind, JJ wrapped me up in his arms to keep me warm the best he could. We also had to wait on Pope and Kie’s parents since they wanted to question them as well, I didn’t have anyone, and JJ didn’t really either. The officers came back in, somber looks on their faces.

“We lost him” Shuoppe said, looking at the ground.

“So he got away?” Kie said, all of us smiling at each other.

“No, we lost him in the storm. He drove right in the middle of it, I’m sorry.” he said. My heart dropped, everything around me started to spin.

“So they’re dead?” I asked, tears welling in my eyes.

“YOU LED HIM RIGHT INTO THAT STORM!” JJ screamed, lunging at Shouppe.

“JJ stop!” I said, pulling on his shirt.

Kie started to sob loudly, pulling me into her arms as we both cried. JJ pulling me away to crush me into his chest, I wailed loudly. I lost all the feelings in my limbs, completely relying on JJ to hold me up.

“He’s gone JJ” I wailed, my shoulders shaking as I sobbed louder.

“I know sweets, I’m so so sorry” he whispered, kissing my cheek.

Kie’s parents, followed by Pope’s came in. They all hugged and I couldn’t move away from JJ.

“My baby brother” I cried, soaking JJ’s shirt at this point. Then Ward came in the tent, looking at me with regret. “You son of a bitch!” I yelled, charging at the man responsible for all of this. I landed a punch before JJ was struggling to pull me away. “You greedy ass motherfucker! You couldn’t let two teenagers who have struggled their whole life have something beautiful because all you fucking care about is money and power! You are a cold-hearted murderer Ward Cameron! Fuck you!” I screeched, clawing at his face as JJ dragged me away.

“Baby, stop” JJ whispered, turning me around to bury my face into his neck. I wailed, struggling against him at first before I broke down again.

“He can’t be gone, he can’t” I sobbed. “My brother-h-he” I cried, at this point I was beyond hysterical. My heart had been ripped to shreds.

I was truly alone.

Pope’s parents drove JJ and I back to the chateau. I was zoned out, staring out the window at nothing. I was still trying to process what happened mere minutes ago. John B. and Sarah were dead.... this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to get down to the Bahamas, we would clear his name, get the gold, and then live happily ever after. How the tables have turned now. I could feel JJ’s stare, my hand limp in his not because I didn’t want to hold it. I just couldn’t feel anything, I felt so lost. Like a part of me is gone, how was I supposed to go on without John B.? We were each other’s back bones, he was the glue that held the Pogues together.

We pulled up the chateau, I thanked Pope’s dad for the ride. JJ, Pope, and I got out of the car. Pope hugged me, telling me how sorry he was. JJ joined our hug, this was all that was left of our original friend group. The four of us grew up together, went to all the same schools, and all of us being attacked by a Kook at least every other day.

“Love you guys, I’ll see ya later I guess...” Pope said, getting back in the car.

I walked into the chateau, looking at all the pictures of John B. and I. Some of our dad, our uncle, and the Pogues. I went in my dad’s office, finding everything he had on the Royal Merchant. I put it in a trashcan, taking it outside.

“Babe, what are you doing?” JJ asked, following me outside.

I gathered up some branches, poured some gas on them, and lit them on fire. I took the trashcan and dumped all the papers into the fire, watching them burn.

“Why did you do that?” JJ questioned slowly.

“So no one can get their hands on anything to do with this shit anymore, it brings nothing but death and heartache.” I said coldly, staring at the fire. JJ put his arms around me as we watched the fire burn.

“I love you,” he said, kissing my shoulder.

“I love you Maybank” I said, turning my head to kiss him.

I didn’t know where we would go from here. I was sure that as long as JJ was at my side, things would be ok. I would avenge John B.’s death by getting that gold, and I would make both him and my father proud.

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kaen-ace-of-diamonds · 4 years

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Full Moon Dance

Word Count: 3300+ (chapter 2, final) (chapter 1) [AO3 link]

Genre: Humor/Romance

Characters: Raven Branwen, Summer Rose, Qrow Branwen, Taiyang Xiao Long, Ozpin, Kite Branwen (OC, mentioned)

Pairing: Raven Branwen/Summer Rose

Summary: Misunderstanding what "taking a partner" is supposed to entail, Raven asks Summer to the Vytal Festival Dance.She did not expect that to become a gateway to facing her changing feelings for her teammates and her place at Beacon.

~0~

“I don’t want to hide. I want to slow dance with you again. I want to dance with you forever.”

Sarah Black

~0~

At this point, Raven couldn’t remember what it was like to feel relaxed at all. She should have known that the last two weeks had been too good to be true.

With the limited funds that they had, Summer had led her on a search through Vale’s wide selection of clothing stores to find the perfect party outfits. While she had been exhausted by the end of it, she had to admit that she was still surprised both by how comfortable her dress was and how Summer had managed to pick something for her that matched her style so perfectly.

Still, it was Summer’s choice that she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off of: a soft and shimmery silver dress, that matched her eyes and fell just below her knees. Even more than that, she enjoyed the sight of her partner admiring it on herself in the mirror. She nodded along as if she’d never heard it before every time Summer remarked, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever worn anything this pretty in my life.”

None of them had volunteered to manage any part of the dance, which was a plus in Raven’s book, so all the four of them had to do was look forward to it. She had to admit, Tai didn’t look half bad in his deep gold suit, though it had originally belonged to his father and was a little too big for him. Watching Qrow nearly choke himself on his new tie — part of an outfit similar to her own, though the black of his suit was softer and its red accents brighter — more than once while getting accustomed to it was pretty funny.

When they arrived, Tai’s arm thrown over Qrow’s shoulders and Summer gripping Raven’s hand, the hall was already crowded and noisy, the party in full swing. Whoever had decorated had gone a little overboard on what she could only assume was a starry sky theme: hundreds of holographic paper stars hung on strings all around the room, reflecting the multicolored lights roving everywhere. It did cast a nice rainbow onto Summer’s dress when it wasn’t momentarily blinding her.

As for the music, she was pretty sure she’d already heard most of these songs in the department store changing rooms, but everybody seemed to be liking them well enough. The dance floor was getting fairly packed, but Raven could still see some spots that would accommodate her and Summer. As such, she had expected that to be their first stop.

Instead, while Tai was coaxing Qrow and his sudden case of cold feet out of the corner, she allowed Summer to lead her as she flitted around the room, chatting with and introducing her partner to all the students she’d met from the other Academies. She was taking the whole fostering friendships theme of the Vytal Festival very seriously, and while Raven was only marginally friendly with any of them, she didn’t mind both scoping out their tournament competition and watching Summer be so damn personable.

After a short while, she’d been left to take a break at a table as Summer went to grab them both snacks and fruit punch, and hadn’t minded that either. There were still plenty of people on the dance floor, momentarily sacrificing dignity in the name of fun, that she was content to watch in the meantime. Even her brother was allowing his partner to tug him closer to the spotlight, on the sidelines watching Tai demonstrate the moves of an energetic dance she didn’t recognize.

Maybe this wasn’t the fanciest get-together in the world, but it was nice, legitimately nice. Much better than any night spent by a bonfire in the middle of Anima, drinking moonshine in the dirt with the children of people Kite wanted to make nice with, that was for sure.

And she was going to strangle whatever little spanner in the works had cut it short by spiking the punch and not informing Summer.

The timing had been all wrong, that’s what it was. If she or Qrow had tasted it first, they not only would have noticed the sharp bitter streak, but would have been able to stay on their feet after drinking it. The stuff Kite brewed in the tub behind her tent was stronger than whatever had been dumped in the punch bowl...but only slightly. Tai would have been rocked pretty hard, but she felt sure he wouldn’t have been put out of commission by it, especially if he had only taken one gulp.

But poor Summer was not only a hundred pounds soaking wet, but was so fond of sweet things that she’d chugged an entire solo cup of punch before realizing something wasn’t quite right about its contents.

When Summer had come loping up to her empty-handed and grabbed her arm, Raven had assumed for a second that she had forgone refreshments and was suddenly very excited to finally take her to dance. Instead...

“Heyyyy, Raven? Where’re we going?” Summer nearly tripped over her own feet, thumping against Raven’s shoulder. “And where’re my shoes?”

Raven, holding Summer’s wrist in one hand and her heels in the other, grit her teeth as she peered around the corner of the second-year dorm building. “Don’t worry about it, and back to our room.”

“But wha...what about the boys?”

“Don’t worry. They’ll be fine until we get back.”

Once they had all realized the situation, there had been a brief, fiercely whispered discussion about who should be the one to stealth-mission Summer safely back to their dorm room before their chaperoning professors noticed. Qrow and his Semblance had been put out of the running immediately; they didn’t need any more bad luck befalling them on the way. Tai had first offered to go with them, to negate Qrow’s Semblance, and then alone, as he was the one that most of the faculty liked best.

However, as it was Raven’s arm that Summer was clinging to so steadfastly, and refusing to be detached from, it was quickly decided that it had to be her. So while Tai and Qrow distracted the chaperoning professors, off she had gone, her slurring and swaying partner in tow.

“Oh. Will we be back soon? An’ hey, are you spinning? I’m spinning. Are we gonna dance soon? You can spin me around too if you want, I’d loooove that!”

She should have known Summer would be a chatty drunk, as well as the lightest lightweight she had ever met.

“Shh, relax,” Raven muttered as she darted them across the small lawn and up to the front door. Locked. Of course. And their keys were back at the dance hall.

She pulled a bobby pin from her hair (thankfully, Summer didn’t notice the partial spoiling of all her taming and styling efforts) and went quickly to work on the lock; Kite preferred brute forcing her way into places, but she had bothered to teach her twins at least some finesse.

“Just...be quiet for a minute, okay?”

“Surrrrrre...”

In the dark, it was harder to pick the lock, but not much harder. Ignoring Summer swinging her arm back and forth, Raven eased the door open a crack and peeked in. The ground floor seemed as devoid of professors, security, or other students as the grounds themselves.

“Perfect.” Raven pulled her inside and started for the stairs with perhaps more vigor than her partner was ready for. “Let’s go!”

“Ohh-ohhh!”

“Shh!”

The stairs themselves were...trickier. Why, oh, why did they have to live on the third floor?

“Come on, Summer!” She wasn’t sure how to hiss at someone encouragingly, but she gave it her best try. “You can do it. You do it every day!”

“Well, it’s not every day!” Summer whined. She might as well have still been wearing her heels, the way she was stumbling around on the steps. “They’re way too long!”

“They’re not—”

She broke off in a frustrated huff, and spent the next several minutes attempting to coax Summer up the stairs, and thinking that it would probably be easier to teach a puppy how stairs worked. Around the middle, she glanced up at the second flight of stairs behind them, and the third flight behind that, and finally decided—

“Fuck it!”

Summer’s eyes went huge as Raven grabbed her and hauled her upward, maneuvering her onto her back. “Raven, my heeeeead! I don’t wanna spin anymore!”

“Your head is fine, relax. Keep your arms around my neck, and you can rest it on my shoulder.” Raven refrained from wincing when Summer obeyed a little too quickly, and jammed her bony chin directly where Raven’s neck met her shoulder. “Just don’t throw up on me.”

Summer scoffed, and Raven couldn’t be sure whether she was nuzzling her neck on purpose. “‘Course I won’t. I’m not drunk.”

“Of course not, my mistake,” said Raven, rolling her eyes, as she boosted Summer up into full piggyback position. “Now hold on.”

At least there was one silver lining to Summer being so small: Raven’s footsteps didn’t fall any heavier on the hard tile steps, even while carrying her. There was no one in the stairwell, and with most everyone at the dance, she was really hoping there wouldn’t be anyone there when they reached their floor.

(Of course, she doubted whether there was any Beacon student who would snitch on her, not if they knew what was good for them, but better safe than sorry.)

As such, the only other sound in the place was Summer’s perpetual chattering, now directly in her ear.

“Gods, you’re so warm,” she was saying now, rubbing her face against her hair. Yeah, definitely on purpose. “And your hair is so soft. ‘S like lying on a blanket instead of a hay bale. I did ssssuch a good job...”

“Yes, you did,” replied Raven flatly. Having reached their stop on the stairwell, she dropped Summer’s shoes and shifted her partner slightly so she could have a free hand to open the door. “Very good.”

Luckily, Summer didn’t seem to mind, or even notice, being jostled. “Yeah. You’re the best. You’re suuuuuch a good partner. I’m so glad I didn’t actually break your spine when I landed on you. You remember that?”

Raven snorted. She doubted she could ever forget their first encounter in the Emerald Forest. “Sure I do. My back still hurts when it rains.”

Summer scrunched up her face and made a scandalized noise, rubbing her face against Raven’s like a cat. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. I’d never hurt you on purpose.”

“Yeah, I know,” muttered Raven, edging them through the door and creeping onto the floor. Their dorm wasn’t in this hall, but it wasn’t too far off either. “Come on, home stretch.”

“I’ll never let anything hurt you, either,” Summer went on, and Raven could feel her smiling against her neck. “Anything tries to, I’ll make it explode.”

“Yep. Definitely.”

“It’s my secret, you know? I’ll tell you all about it one day. But I don’t want it to change anything.”

“It won’t, I’m sure,” Raven said, nodding along to her rambling, while her eyes flicked around for any signs that they weren’t alone.

“Ahhh...actually, might change a lot. Y-You know something? I wish I didn’t even have them.”

Raven didn’t stop walking, but there was a heavy enough undertone of distress in Summer’s voice that she turned to look at her. “Have what?”

Summer stared back at her, silver eyes huge and blinking back tears. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know if I should tell you.”

Raven blinked back. Well. Hadn’t she just been thinking about this? Here was the perfect chance to set that precedent, of not digging too deeply into secrets that any teammates might be hiding.

“...That’s okay, Summer. I don’t mind that you didn’t say anything, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“But I—”

“Pardon me?”

Raven jumped badly, and spun around so fast it was a wonder that Summer wasn’t flung clean off her back. (A small part of her almost wanted to do it anyway and get rid of the evidence.)

If it were anyone else, she would have been set to snarl and threaten. But she would recognize that soft, measured tone anywhere, so what blurted out of her mouth was a cracked, “Hello?!”

Ozpin tilted his head slightly, regarding the two of them with curiosity and more than a little concern. “Miss Branwen, Miss Rose. Are you two all right?”

Less than ten years her senior, the headmaster’s youth and mild demeanor put many people at ease. It just made Raven want to put up her guard around him even more, especially now that it was time to lie her ass off to him.

“Yes, Summer just twisted her ankle while we were dancing, so I figured I’d take her back to our room to rest.”

The confusion on Summer’s face was almost comical. “We were dancing?”

Raven fought a fleeting but powerful urge to headbutt her. “Tai and Qrow let the other professors know. We’ll be fine, thanks.”

“Right now the other professors are dealing with several other...incapacitated students at the moment,” Ozpin informed her, leaning on his cane, and Raven couldn’t decide whether his expression was genuinely or deceptively friendly. “Would you know anything about that?”

“No,” said Raven, perhaps a little too quickly, trying her best to look puzzled and innocent. As if she wasn’t a dogged but terrible liar. As if Summer’s Aura wouldn’t have immediately healed a sprain. As if the acrid scents of fruit punch and cheap spirits weren’t radiating off of her.

As if Summer herself wasn’t being entirely unhelpful. “Ohhh! Hi, Professor!”

Ozpin smiled. “Hello, Miss Rose. How are you feeling?”

“Much better!” Summer knocked her head affectionately against Raven’s, her arms twisting tighter around her neck. “Raven’s the best partner ever!”

“I see that. Well, if you’re uncomfortable walking, then it’s no wonder you left these behind.” He handed Raven the pair of Summer’s heels that she had forgotten in the stairwell. “Get some rest, I expect to see you both in full fighting form on Monday.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” was all Raven could say through her shock. They’d just been caught red-handed breaking at least five school rules at once, and he was just...letting them? “Uh...thanks?”

Summer waved vigorously at his retreating back, nearly falling off of Raven. “Bye, Professor!”

“Ugh, Summer, stay still!”

The last leg of their trip was short and thankfully uneventful. Raven didn’t bother turning on the light; she just heaved a sigh of relief when the door closed and she and Summer finally collapsed onto her bed. She kicked off her own shoes and made sure that Summer was lying properly on her side: at least there was one advantage to helping Kite deal with completely soused tribe members after successful raids.

“Hey. How do you feel?”

Summer mumbled contentedly, nuzzling the pillow. “A little spinny.”

“You think you might get sick?”

“Nope. You make me feel better.” Summer’s eyes were gleaming, but their lids were drooping. “I think I’m gonna sleep. I’m sorry, but...I don’t think I can dance with you after all.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind just lying around here with you.”

“Suuure...y-you really are the best...part...”

Before she could manage the second syllable, she had fallen sound asleep. Raven didn’t think being touched would wake her up, but still she undid her braids as gently as possible. She had no interest in returning to the dance without her partner, and save for sending a quick text to Qrow confirming that they were back in their room, she didn’t think any more about it.

The best thing to do would be to take Summer’s example and call it a night. But even after taking her hair down and changing into an old shirt and shorts, and lying down next to Summer — had to keep an eye on her until she’d slept it off, after all — she felt wide awake, and couldn’t seem to look away from her face.

(It wasn’t even that late, but it looked like it was still going to be one of Those Nights where her thoughts got the better of her.)

Summer looked peaceful. She looked...beautiful, there was no other word for it. And she trusted Raven, in a way that Raven hadn’t thought possible after less than two years of knowing somebody. It wasn’t a new realization, but it was one that made her feel strange and unsteady inside if she gave it enough time to set in.

She didn’t know for sure what she was supposed to call such a feeling, though the word vulnerable floated menacingly through her head. And speaking of unwelcome guests there...

She’s going to be easy prey when you’re finally done with this place, purred Kite’s smug voice in her thoughts. When she looks at you, sometimes you think she can see right through you, and maybe she can, but she won’t raise her blade to you until it’s too late for her.

Raven reached out and gently brushed a loose lock of Summer’s hair out of her face. She was a loyal warrior; she listened to her leader without contradiction...even if she felt no compulsion at all to obey.

Yeah, you see? She’s already baring her throat to you. She’s throwing her life away just like every other dumb kid in that place. Might as well be to you.

Even so, for once in her life, she wished that she would just be quiet. That everything would just stop, if only for a little while, so she could feel right staying where she was. It was comfortable here, it was soft and warm here. Summer was here. It felt as natural as her own heartbeat for Summer to be here.

She realized that she didn’t know what she would do if her partner were gone, that she emphatically did not want to leave her side. The realization did not come sweetly, or stunningly; it was a quick, icy shock to her system, like the sudden awareness that you were not alone in the forest, and something was about to pounce on your back.

Whatever that something might be, now wasn’t the time to think too deeply about it, Raven decided. Trying to focus on the better, simpler things, it would be easier to doze off. She only registered that she had done exactly that when the door opened again, her eyes flew open, and the room was even darker around them.

“Holy shit,” said Qrow’s silhouette in the doorway. “I didn’t think it’d be that much like it is at home!”

“Shut up,” Raven hissed, indicating Summer. “She’s sleeping!”

“Sorry, sorry...” both boys mumbled as they slipped inside, carrying trace scents of alcohol and sweat with them. She could hear more tired footsteps in the hall outside as Qrow stage-whispered, “But yeah, you guys got out at just the right time. I think like ten people got suspended.”

Tai made a piteous noise as he poked at an unfortunately large stain on the suit jacket slung over his arm. Raven couldn’t see it terribly well from here, but she figured ‘somebody else’s drying vomit’ wasn’t too bad a guess. “My dad’s suit...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Raven sighed. “We’ll teach you how to wash it out in the morning. Did you guys have fun anyway?”

Tai and Qrow paused in removing their respective hair tie and regular tie to glance at each other, and after a second, smiled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Good. So go to sleep and tell us about it in the morning.”

Raven started to sink back onto the bed, and realized that Summer had snuggled closer to her in their sleep. Carefully and with some awkwardness, she laid back down beside her, so close now that she could feel her body heat.

Qrow smirked. “How have you two been doing?”

“Fine.” She glared at him over Summer’s head. “Just fine. Go to bed.”

“Sure, sure...”

Before long, Qrow was face down on his pillow and Tai was snoring peacefully. Raven was the last to fall back asleep, with Summer’s soft breathing in her ears, and their hands brushing together on top of the covers.

~0~

The next morning she was the last to wake up as well, and did so to the powerful aroma of bacon and eggs. Summer presented the dish to her with a noticeable blush and a sheepish smile on her face.

“You know, you didn’t have to do this,” said Raven through a crunchy strip of bacon, sitting cross-legged on her bed. “I know you must be hungover as hell.”

Summer rubbed the back of her head. “I drank a lot of water, so I’m feeling a bit better. And everything that happened last night is really fuzzy, but I knew I had to thank you for it.”

“Mm-hm. And have you learned your lesson about making sure you know what you’re actually drinking?”

“Absolutely.” She held her hand up in a ‘scout’s honor’ pose. “I swear, I will never be betrayed by fruit punch again.”

Raven nodded solemnly. “Excellent.”

Classes didn’t start back up again until Monday, so today was their day of rest. The majority of it was spent lazing around their room, filling each other in on what they’d done last night. (Qrow and Tai high-fived so exuberantly at Raven’s recount that anyone would think they had been the ones that Ozpin had let get away clean.)

Raven had no reason to expect that anything more would happen this weekend. But then, just as it was starting to get dark, Summer took her hand and led her up to the roof of the building.

“Uh, Summer? Not that I doubt your good intentions, but what are we doing here?”

Summer turned around with a grin, keeping a gentle but firm grip on her hand. The rising moon behind her head was golden and full. “I did promise you a dance, didn’t I? I thought I’d fulfill that promise the best way I know how.”

“...Under the moonlight, is that right?” Raven squeezed her hand, unable to keep a small smile of her own off her face. “And I suppose you’ll be taking the lead?”

“I am your leader, after all. Now let me see...Dad always used to start like...”

Summer adjusted her feet, and Raven did her best to match her. Her right hand released Raven’s and rested on her left shoulder, and her left hand quickly replaced it.

“Put your left hand on my shoulder. Just like that. We’ve got to keep our elbows up like...yeah, perfect. If I’m remembering it right, there’s only six steps to this, so it should be easy. It’s...”

She stepped forward, and Raven stepped back. She stepped to the side, and Raven followed. Their movements were awkward, unsteady, certainly unpracticed. But they were managing perfectly well, as used to one another as they were, and that was a win in Raven’s book.

Summer’s grin broadened when they completed a full rotation without stepping on each other’s feet. “See, we did it!”

“All right, so we’re ready for the advanced steps now, right?”

Summer giggled, and started to guide her into another turn, her cloak swishing minutely with the movement. “Let’s just stick with this for now.”

Raven was perfectly content with this. Maybe it had been for the best that their time at the dance had been interrupted. The distant chirping of night birds, the soft click of their boots on the rooftop, the sound of Summer’s voice instructing and encouraging her...she couldn’t think of any music or any place that she would like better.

Without thinking, she tightened her grip, and Summer, as if reading her mind, pulled her in closer. Her partner filled the entirety of her vision, and in her face, her hair, the moonlight glowed.

#rosebird #raven branwen #summer rose #qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #ozpin #rwby #team strq #kaen's fics

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grigori77 · 4 years

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Summer 2020′s Movies - My Top Ten Favourite Films (Part 2)

10. BODY CAM – in the face of the current pandemic, viral outbreak cinema has become worryingly prescient lately, but as COVID led to civil unrest there were a couple of films in this summer that REALLY seemed to me to put their finger on the pulse of another particularly shitty zeitgeist. Admittedly this one highlights a problem that’s been around for a good while, but it came along at just the right time to gain particularly strong resonance, filtering its message into the most reliable form of allegorical social commentary – horror. The vengeful ghost trope has become pretty familiar over the past decade or so, but by marrying it with the corrupt cop thriller veteran horror screenwriter Nicholas McCarthy (The Pact) has given it a nice fresh spin, and the end result was, for me, a real winner. Mary J. Blige plays troubled LAPD cop Renee Lomito-Smith, back on the beat after an extended hiatus following a particularly harrowing incident, just as fellow officers from her own precinct begin to die violent deaths under mysterious circumstances, and the only clues are weird, haunting camera footage that only Renee and her new partner, rookie Danny Holledge (Paper Towns and Death Note’s Natt Wolff), manage to see before it inexplicable wipes itself. Something supernatural is stalking the City of Angels at night, and it’s got a serious grudge against local cops as the increasingly disturbing investigation slowly brings an act of horrific police brutality to light, until Renee no longer knows who in her department she can trust. This is one of the most insidious scare-fests I’ve enjoyed so far this year, sophomore director Malik Vitthal (Imperial Dreams) weaving an effective atmosphere of pregnant dread and wire-taut suspense while delivering some impressively hair-raising shocks (the stunning minimart sequence is the film’s undeniable highlight), while the ghostly threat is cleverly thought-out and skilfully brought to “life”. Blige delivers another top-drawer performance, giving Renee a winning combination of wounded fragility and steely resolve that makes for a particularly compelling hero, while Wolff invests Danny with skittish uncertainty and vulnerability in one of his strongest performances to date, and Dexter star David Zayas brings interesting moral complexity to the role of their put-upon superior, Sergeant Kesper. In these times of heightened social awareness, when the police’s star has become particularly tarnished as unnecessary force, racial profiling and cover-ups have become major hot-button topics, the power and relevance of this particular slice of horror cinema cannot be denied.

9. BLOOD QUANTUM – it certainly has been a great year for horror, and for most of the summer this was the genre leader, a compellingly fresh take on the zombie outbreak genre with a killer hook. Canadian writer-director Jeff Barnaby (Rhymes for Young Ghouls) has always clung close to his Native American roots, and he brings strong social relevance to the intriguing early 80s Canadian setting as a really nasty zombie virus wreaks havoc in the Red Crow Indian Reservation and its neighbouring town. It soon becomes clear, however, that members of the local tribe are immune to the infection, a revelation with far-reaching consequences as the outbreak rages unchecked and society begins to crumble. Barnaby pulls off some impressive world-building and creates a compellingly grungy post-apocalyptic vibe as the story progresses, while the zombies themselves are a visceral, scuzzy bunch, and there’s plenty of cracking set-pieces and suitably full-blooded kills to keep the gore-hounds happy, while the horror has real intelligence behind it, the script posing interesting questions and delivering some uncomfortable answers. The characters, meanwhile, are a well-drawn, complex bunch, no black-and-white saviours among them, any one of them capable of some pretty inhuman horrors when the chips are down, and the cast, an interesting mix of seasoned talent and unknowns, all excel in their roles – Michale Greyeyes (Fear the Walking Dead) and Forrest Goodluck (The Revenant) are the closest things the film has to real heroes, the former a fallible everyman as Traylor, the small-town sheriff who’s just trying to do right by his family, the latter unsure of himself as his son, put-upon teenage father-to-be Joseph; meanwhile, Olivia Scriven is tough but vulnerable as his pregnant white girlfriend Charlie, Stonehorse Lone Goeman is a grizzled badass as tough-as-nails tribal elder Gisigu, and Kiowa Gordon (probably best known for playing a werewolf in the Twilight movies) really goes to the dark side as Joseph’s delinquent half-brother Lysol, while there’s a memorably subtle turn from Dead Man’s Gary Farmer as unpredictable loner Moon. This is definitely one of the year’s darkest films – by and large playing the horror straight, it tightens the screws as the situation grows steadily worse, and almost makes a virtue of wallowing in its hopeless tone – but there’s a fatalistic charm to all the bleakness, even in the downbeat yet tentatively hopeful climax, while it’s hard to deny the ruthless efficiency of the violence on display. This certainly isn’t a horror movie for everyone, but those with a strong stomach and relatively hard heart will find much to enjoy here. Jeff Barnaby is definitely gonna be one to watch in the future …

8. PALM SPRINGS – the summer’s comedy highlight kind of snuck in under the radar, becoming something of an on-demand secret weapon with all the cinemas closed, and it definitely deserves its swiftly growing cult status. You certainly can’t possibly believe it’s the feature debut of director Max Barbakow, who shows the kind of sharp-witted, steady-handed control of his craft that’s usually the province of far more experienced talents … then again, much of the credit must surely go to seasoned TV comedy writer Andy Siara (Lodge 49), for whom this has been a real labour of love he’s been tending since his film student days. Certainly all that care, nurture and attention to detail is up there on the screen, the exceptional script singing its irresistible siren song from the start and providing fertile ground for its promising new director to spread his own creative wings. The premise may be instantly familiar – playing like a latter-day Saturday Night Live take on Groundhog Day (Siara admits it was a major influence), it follows the misadventures of Sarah (How I Met Your Mother’s Cristin Miliota), the black sheep maid of honour at her sweet little sister Tala’s (Riverdale’s Camila Mendes) wedding to seemingly perfect hunk Abe (Supergirl’s Superman, Tyler Hoechlin), as she finds herself repeating the same high-stress day over and over again after being trapped in a mysterious cosmic time-loop along with slacker misanthrope Nyles (Brooklyn Nine Nine megastar Andy Samberg), who’s been stuck in this same situation for MUCH longer – but in Barbakow and Siara’s hands it feels fresh and intriguing, and goes in some surprising new directions before the well-worn central premise can outstay its welcome. It certainly doesn’t hurt that the cast are uniformly excellent – Miliota is certainly the pounding emotional heart of the film, effortlessly lovable as she flounders against her lot, then learns to accept the unique possibilities it presents, before finally resolving to find a way out, while Samberg has rarely been THIS GOOD, truly endearing in his sardonic apathy as it becomes clear he’s been stuck like this for CENTURIES, and they make an enjoyably fiery couple with snipey chemistry to burn; meanwhile there’s top-notch support from Mendes and Hoechlin, The OC’s Peter Gallagher as Sarah and Tala’s straight-laced father, the ever-reliable Dale Dickey, a thoroughly adorable turn from Jena Freidman and, most notably, a full-blooded scene-stealing performance from the mighty J.K. Simmonds as Roy, Nyles’ nemesis, who he inadvertently trapped in the loop before Sarah and is, understandably, none too happy about it. This really is an absolute laugh-riot, today’s more post-modern sense of humour allowing the central pair (and their occasional enemy) to indulge in even more extreme consequence-free craziness than Bill Murray ever got away with back in the day, but like all the best comedies there’s also a strong emotional foundation under the humour, leading us to really care about these people and what happens to them, while the story throws moments of true heartfelt power at us, particularly in the deeply cathartic climax. Ultimately this was one of the summer’s biggest surprises, a solid gold gem that I can’t recommend enough.

7. THE LAST DAYS OF AMERICAN CRIME – the summer’s other heavyweight Zeitgeist fondler is a deeply satirical chunk of speculative dystopian sci-fi clearly intended as a cinematic indictment of Trump’s broken America, but it became far more potent and prescient in these … ahem … troubled times. Adapted by screenwriter Karl Gadjusek (Oblivion, Stranger Things, The King’s Man) from the graphic novel by Rick Remender and Greg Tocchini for underrated schlock-action cinema director Olivier Megaton (Transporter 3, Colombiana, the last two Taken films), this Netflix original feature seemed like a fun way to kill a cinema-deprived Saturday night in the middle of the Lockdown, but ultimately proved to have a lot more substance than expected. It’s powered by an intriguing premise – in a nearly lawless 2024, the US government is one week away from implementing a nationwide synaptic blocker signal called the API (American Peace Initiative) which will prevent the public from being able to commit any kind of crime – and focuses on a strikingly colourful bunch of outlaw antiheroes with an audacious agenda – prodigious Detroit bank robber Bricke (Édgar Ramiréz) is enlisted by Kevin Cash (Funny Games and Hannibal’s Michael Carmen Pitt), a wayward scion of local crime family the Dumois, and his hacker fiancée Shelby Dupree (Material Girl’s Anna Brewster) to pull off what’s destined to be the last great crime in American history, a daring raid on the night of the signal to steal over a billion dollars from the Motor City’s “money factory” and then escape across the border into Canada. From this deceptively simple premise a sprawling action epic was born, carried along by a razor sharp, twisty script and Megaton’s typically hyperbolic, showy auteur directing style and significant skill at crafting thrillingly explosive set-pieces, while the cast consistently deliver quality performances. Ramiréz has long been one of those actors I really love to watch, a gruff, quietly intense alpha male whose subtle understatement hides deep reserves of emotional intensity, while Dupree takes a character who could have been a thinly-drawn femme fetale and invests her with strong personal drive and steely resolve, and there’s strong support from Neil Blomkampf regulars Sharlto Copley and Brandon Auret as, respectively, emasculated beat cop Sawyer and brutal Mob enforcer Lonnie French, as well as a nearly unrecognisable Patrick Bergin as local kingpin (and Kevin’s father) Rossi Dumois; the film is roundly stolen, however, by Pitt, a phenomenal actor I’ve always thought we just don’t see enough of, here portraying a spectacularly sleazy, unpredictable force of nature who clearly has his own dark agenda, but whom we ultimately can’t help rooting for even as he stabs us in the back. This is a cracking film, a dark and dangerous thriller of rare style and compulsive verve that I happily consider to be Megaton’s best film to date BY FAR – needless to say it was a major hit for Netflix when it dropped, clearly resonating with its audience given what’s STILL going on in the real world, and while it may have been roundly panned in reviews I think, like some of the platform’s other more glossy Original hits (Bright springs to mind), it’s destined for a major critical reappraisal and inevitable cult status before too long …

6. HAMILTON – arriving just as Black Lives Matter reached fever-pitch levels, this feature presentation of the runaway Broadway musical smash-hit could not have been better timed. Shot over three nights during the show’s 2016 run with the original cast and cut together with specially created “setup shots”, it’s an immersive experience that at once puts you right in amongst the audience (at times almost a character themselves, never seen but DEFINITELY heard) but also lets you experience the action up close. And what action – it’s an incredible show, a thoroughly fascinating piece of work that reads like something very staid and proper on paper (an all-encompassing biographical account of the life and times of American Founding Father Alexander Hamilton) but, in execution, becomes something very different and EXTREMELY vital. The execution certainly couldn’t be further from the usual period biopic fare this kind of historical subject matter usually gets (although in the face of recent top-notch revisionist takes like Marie Antoinette, The Great and Tesla it’s not SO surprising), while the cast is not at all what you’d expect – with very few notable exceptions the cast is almost entirely people of colour, despite the fact that the real life individuals they’re playing were all very white indeed. That said, every single one of them is an absolute revelation – the show’s writer-composer Lin-Manuel Miranda (already riding high on the success of In the Heights) carries the central role of Hamilton with effortless charm and raw star power, Leslie Odom Jr. (Smash, Murder On the Orient Express) is duplicitously complex as his constant nemesis Aaron Burr, Christopher Jackson (In the Heights, Moana, Bull) oozes integrity and nobility as his mentor and friend George Washington, Phillipa Soo is sweet and classy as his wife Eliza while Renée Elise Goldsberry (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Jacks, Altered Carbon) is fiery and statuesque as her sister Angelica Schuyler (the one who got away), and Jonathan Groff (Mindhunter) consistently steals every scene he’s in as fiendish yet childish fan favourite King George III; ultimately, however, the show (and the film) belongs to veritable powerhouse Daveed Diggs (Blindspotting, TV’s Snowpiercer) in a spectacular duel role, starting subtly but gaining scene-stealing momentum as French Revolutionary Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette, before EXPLODING onto the stage in the second half as indomitable eventual American President Thomas Jefferson. Not having seen the stage show, I was taken completely by surprise by this, revelling in its revisionist genius and offbeat, quirky hip-hop charm, spellbound by the skilful ease with which is takes the sometimes quite dull historical fact and skews it into something consistently entertaining and absorbing, transported by the catchy earworm musical numbers and thoroughly tickled by the delightfully cheeky sense of humour strung throughout (at least when I wasn’t having my heart broken by moments of raw dramatic power). Altogether it’s a pretty unique cinematic experience I wish I could have actually gotten to see on the big screen, and one I’ve consistently recommended to all my friends, even the ones who don’t usually like musicals. As far as I’m concerned it doesn’t need a proper Les Misérables style screen adaptation – this is about as perfect a presentation as the show could possibly hope for.

5. SPUTNIK – the summer’s horror highlight (despite SERIOUSLY tough competition) is a guaranteed sleeper hit that I almost totally missed, stumbling across the trailer one day on YouTube and being completely bowled over by its potential, prompting me to hunt it down by any means necessary. The feature debut of Russian director Egor Abramenko, this first contact sci-fi chiller is about as far from E.T. as it’s possible to get, sharing some of the same DNA as Carpenter’s The Thing but proudly carving its own path with consummate skill and definitely signalling great things to come from its brand new helmer and relative unknown screenwriters Oleg Malovichko and Andrei Zolotarev. Oksana Akinshina (probably best known in the West for her powerful climactic cameo in The Bourne Supremacy) is the beating heart of the film as neurophysiologist Tatyana Yuryevna Klimova, brought in to aid in the investigation in the Russian wilderness circa 1983 after an orbital research mission goes horribly wrong. One of the cosmonauts dies horribly, while the other, Konstantin (The Duelist’s Pyotr Fyodorov) seems unharmed, but it quickly becomes clear that he’s now playing host to something decidedly extraterrestrial and potentially terrifying, and as Tatyana becomes more deeply embroiled in her assignment she comes to realise that her superiors, particularly mysterious Red Army project leader Colonel Semiradov (The PyraMMMid’s Fyodor Bondarchuk), have far darker plans for Konstantin and his new “friend” than she could ever imagine. This is about as dark, intense and nightmarish as this particular sub-genre gets, a magnificently icky body horror that slowly builds its tension as we’re gradually exposed to the various truths and the awful gravity of the situation slowly reveals itself, punctuated by skilfully executed shocks and some particularly horrifying moments when the evils inflicted by the humans in charge prove to be far worse than anything the alien can do, while the ridiculously talented writers have a field day pulling the rug out from under us again and again, never going for the obvious twist and keeping us guessing right to the devastating ending, while the beautifully crafted digital creature effects are nothing short of astonishing and thoroughly creepy. Akinshina dominates the film with her unbridled grace, vulnerability and integrity, the relationship that develops between Tatyana and Konstantin (Fyodorov delivering a beautifully understated turn belying deep inner turmoil) feeling realistically earned as it goes from tentatively wary to ultimately, tragically bittersweet, while Bondarchuk invests the Colonel with a subtly nuanced air of tarnished authority and restrained brutality that makes him one of my top screen villains for the year. Guaranteed to go down as one of 2020’s great sleeper hits, I can’t speak of this film highly enough – it’s a genuine revelation, an instant classic for whom I’ll sing its praises for the remainder of the year and beyond, and I wish utmost success to all the creative talents involved in the future. The Invisible Man still rules the roost in the year’s horror stakes, but this runs a VERY close second …

4. GREYHOUND – when the cinemas closed back in March, the fate of many of the major summer blockbusters we’d been looking forward to was thrown into terrible doubt. Some were pushed back to more amenable dates in the autumn or winter, others knocked back a whole year to fill summer slots for 2021, but more than a few simply dropped off the radar entirely with the terrible words “postponed until further notice” stamped on them, and I lamented them all, this one in particular. It hung in there longer than some, stubbornly holding onto its June release slot for as long as possible, but eventually it gave up the ghost too … but thanks to Apple TV+, not for long, ultimately releasing less than a month later than intended. Thankfully the final film was worth the fuss, a taut World War II suspense thriller that’s all killer, no filler – set during the infamous Battle of the Atlantic, it portrays the constant life-or-death struggle faced by the Allied warships assigned to escort the transport convoys as they crossed the ocean, defending their charges from German U-boats. Adapted from C.S. Forester’s famous 1955 novel The Good Shepherd by Tom Hanks and directed by Aaron Schneider (Get Low), the narrative focuses on the crew of the escort leader, American destroyer USS Fletcher, codenamed Greyhound, and in particular its captain, Commander Ernest Krause (Hanks), a career sailor serving his first command. As they cross “the Pit”, the most dangerous mid stretch of the journey where they spend days without air-cover, they find themselves shadowed by “the Wolf Pack”, a particularly cunning group of German subs that begin to pick away at the convoy’s stragglers. Faced with daunting odds, a dwindling supply of vital depth-charges and a ruthless, persistent enemy, Krause must make hard choices to bring his ships home safe … jumping into the thick of the action within the first ten minutes and maintaining that tension for the remainder of its trim 90-minute run, this is screen suspense par excellence, a sleek textbook example of how to craft a compelling big screen knuckle-whitener with zero fat and maximum reward, delivering a series of desperate naval scraps packed with hide-and-seek intensity, heart-in-mouth near-misses and fist-in-air cathartic payoffs by the bucket-load. Hanks is subtly magnificent, the calm centre of the narrative storm as a supposed newcomer to this battle arena who could have been BORN for it, bringing to mind the similarly unflappable turn he delivered in Captain Phillips and certainly not suffering by comparison; by and large he’s the focus point, but other crew members do make strong (if sometimes quite brief) impressions, particularly Stephen Graham as Krause’s reliably seasoned XO, Lt. Commander Charlie Cole, The Magnificent Seven’s Manuel Garcia-Rulfo and Just Mercy’s Rob Morgan, while Elisabeth Shue does a lot with a very small part in brief flashbacks as Krause’s fiancée Evelyn. Relentless, powerful, exhilarating and thoroughly unforgettable, this was one of the true action highlights of the summer, and one hell of a war flick. I’m so glad it made the cut for the season …

3. PROJECT POWER – with Marvel and DC pushing their tent-pole titles back into late autumn in the face of COVID, the usual superhero antics we’ve come to expect over the main blockbuster season were pretty thin on the ground, leading us to find our geeky fan thrills elsewhere. Unfortunately, pickings were frustratingly slim – Korean comic book actioner Gundala was entertaining but workmanlike, while Thor AU-take Mortal was underwhelming despite strong direction from Troll Hunter’s André Øvredal, and I’ve already made my feelings clear on the frustration of The New Mutants – thank the Gods, then, for Netflix, once again riding to the rescue with this enjoyably offbeat super-thriller, which takes an intriguing central premise and really runs with it. New designer drug Power has hit the streets of New Orleans, able to give anyone who takes it a superpower for five minutes … the only problem is, until you try it, you won’t know what your own unique talent is – for some, it could mean five minutes of invisibility, or insane levels of super-strength, but other powers can be potentially lethal, the really unlucky buggers just blowing up on the spot. Robin (The Hate U Give’s Dominique Fishback) is a teenage Power-pusher with dreams of becoming a rap star, dealing the pills so she can help her diabetic mum; Frank Shaver (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is one of her customers, an NOPD detective who uses his power of near invulnerability to even the playing field when powered crims cause a disturbance. Their lives are turned upside down when Art (Jamie Foxx) arrives in town – he’s a seriously badass ex-soldier determined to hunt down the source of Power by any means necessary, and he’s not above tearing the Big Easy apart to do it. This is a fun, gleefully infectious rollercoaster that doesn’t take itself too seriously, revelling in the anarchic potential of its premise and crafting some suitably OTT effects-driven chaos brought to pleasingly visceral fruition by its skilfully inventive director, Ariel Schulman (Catfish, Nerve, Viral), while Mattson Tomlin (the screenwriter of next year’s incendiary DCEU headline act The Batman) takes his script in some very interesting directions and poses some fascinating questions about what Power’s TRULY capable of. Gordon-Levitt and Fishback are both brilliant, the latter particularly impressing in what’s sure to be a major breakthrough role for her, and the friendship their characters share is pretty adorable, while Foxx really is a force to be reckoned with, pretty chill even when he’s in deep shit but fully capable of turning into a bona fide killing machine at the flip of a switch, and there’s strong support from Westworld’s Rodrigo Santoro as Biggie, Power’s delightfully oily kingpin, Courtney B. Vance as Frank’s by-the-book superior, Captain Crane, Amy Landecker as Gardner, the morally bankrupt CIA spook responsible for the drug’s production, and Machine Gun Kelly as Newt, a Power dealer whose explosive pyrotechnic “gift” really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Exciting, inventive, frequently amusing and infectiously likeable, this was some of the most uncomplicated “cinematic” fun I had this summer. Not bad for something which I’m sure was originally destined to become one of the season’s B-list features …

2. THE OLD GUARD – Netflix’s undisputable TOP OFFERING of the summer came damn close to bagging the whole season, and I can’t help thinking that even if some of the stiffer competition had still been present it may well have still finished this high. Gina Prince-Blythewood (Love & Basketball, the Secret Life of Bees) directs comics legend Greg Rucka’s adaptation of his own popular title with uncanny skill and laser-focused visual flair considering there’s nothing on her previous CV to suggest she’d be THIS good at mounting a stomping good ultraviolent action thriller, ushering in this thoroughly engrossing tale of four ancient, invulnerable immortal warriors – Andy AKA Andromache of Scythia (Charlize Theron), Booker AKA Sebastian de Livre (Matthias Schoenaerts), Joe AKA Yusuf Al-Kaysani (Wolf’s Marwan Kenzari) and Nicky AKA Niccolo di Ginova (Trust’s Luca Marinelli) – who’ve been around forever, hiring out their services as mercenaries for righteous causes while jealously guarding their identities for fear of horrific experimentation and exploitation should their true natures ever be discovered. Their anonymity is threatened, however, when they’re uncovered by former CIA operative James Copley (Chiwetel Ejiofor), working for the decidedly dodgy pharmaceutical conglomerate run by sociopathic billionaire Steven Merrick (Harry Melling, formerly Dudley in the Harry Potter movies), who want to capture these immortals so they can patent whatever it is that makes them keep on ticking … just as a fifth immortal, US Marine Nile Freeman (If Beale Street Could Talk’s KiKi Layne), awakens after being “killed” on deployment in Afghanistan. The supporting players are excellent, particularly Ejiofor, smart and driven but ultimately principled and deeply conflicted about what he’s doing, even if he does have the best of intentions, and Melling, the kind of loathsome, reptilian scumbag you just love to hate, but the film REALLY DOES belong to the Old Guard themselves – Schoenaerts is a master brooder, spot-on casting as the group’s relative newcomer, only immortal since the Napoleonic Wars but clearly one seriously old soul who’s already VERY tired of the lifestyle, while Joe and Nicky (who met on opposing sides of the Crusades) are simply ADORABLE, an unapologetically matter-of-fact gay couple who are sweet, sassy and incredibly kind, the absolute emotional heart of the film; it’s the ladies, however, that are most memorable here. Layne is exceptional, investing Nile with a steely intensity that puts her in good stead as her new existence threatens to overwhelm her and MORE THAN qualified to bust heads alongside her elders … but it’s ancient Greek warrior Andy who steals the film, Theron building on the astounding work she did in Atomic Blonde to prove, once and for all, that there’s no woman on Earth who looks better kicking arse than her (as Booker puts it, “that woman has forgotten more ways to kill than entire armies will ever learn”); in her hands, Andy truly is a goddess of death, tough as tungsten alloy and unflappable even in the face of hell itself, but underneath it all she hides a heart as big as any of her friends’. They’re an impossibly lovable bunch and you feel you could follow them on another TEN adventures like this one, which is just as well, because Prince-Blythewood and Rucka certainly put them through their paces here – the drama is high (but frequently laced with a gentle, knowing sense of humour, particularly whenever Joe and Nicky are onscreen), as are the stakes, and the frequent action sequences are top-notch, executed with rare skill and bone-crunching zest, but also ALWAYS in service to the story. Altogether this is an astounding film, a genuine victory for its makers and, it seems, for Netflix themselves – it’s become one of the platform’s biggest hits to date, earning well-deserved critical acclaim and great respect and genuine geek love from the fanbase at large. After this, a sequel is not only inevitable, it’s ESSENTIAL …

1. TENET – granted, the streaming platforms (particularly Netflix and Amazon) certainly did save our cinematic summer, but I’m still IMMEASURABLY glad that the season’s ultimate top-spot winner was one I got to experience on THE BIG SCREEN. You gotta hand it to Christopher Nolan, he sure hung in there, stubbornly determined that his latest cinematic masterpiece WOULD be released in cinemas in the summer (albeit ultimately landing JUST inside the line in the final week of August), and it was worth all the fuss because, for me, this was THE PERFECT MOVIE for me to get return to cinemas with. I mean, okay, in the end it WASN’T the FIRST new movie I saw after the reopening, that honour went to Unhinged, but THIS was my first real Saturday night out big screen EXPERIENCE since March. Needless to say, Nolan didn’t disappoint this time any more than he has on any of his consistently spectacular previous releases, delivering another twisted, mind-boggling headfuck of a full-blooded experiential sensory overload that comes perilously close to toppling his long-standing auteur-peak, Inception (itself second only by fractions to The Dark Knight as far as I’m concerned). To say much at all about the plot would give away major spoilers – personally I’d recommend just going in as cold as possible, indeed you really should just stop reading this right now and just GO SEE IT. Still with us? Okay … the VERY abridged version is that it’s about a secret war being waged between the present and the future by people capable of “inverting” time in substances, objects, people, whatever, into which the Protagonist (BlacKkKlansman’s John David Washington), an unnamed CIA agent, has been dispatched in order to prevent a potential coming apocalypse. Washington is once again on top form, crafting a robust and compelling morally complex heroic lead who’s just as comfortable negotiating the minefields of black market intrigue as he is breaking into places or dispatching heavies, Kenneth Branagh delivers one of his most interesting and memorable performances in years as brutal Russian oligarch Andrei Sator, a genuinely nasty piece of work who may be the year’s very best screen villain, Elizabeth Debicki (The Night Manager, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Widows) brings strength, poise and wounded integrity to the role of Sator’s estranged wife, Kat, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson gets to use his own accent for once as tough-as-nails British Intelligence officer Ives, while there are brief but consistently notable supporting turns and cameos from Martin Donovan, Yesterday’s HImesh Patel, Dirk Gently’s Fiona Dourif and, of course, Nolan’s good luck charm, Michael Caine. The cast’s biggest surprise, however, is Robert Pattinson, truly a revelation in what has to be, HANDS DOWN, his best role to date, Neil, the Protagonist’s mysterious handler – he’s by turns cheeky, slick, duplicitous and thoroughly badass, delivering an enjoyably multi-layered, chameleonic performance which proves what I’ve long maintained, that the former Twilight star is actually a fucking amazing actor, and on the basis of this, even without that amazing new teaser trailer making the rounds, I think the debate about whether or not he’s the right choice for the new Batman is now academic. As we’ve come to expect from Nolan, this is a TRUE tour-de-force experience, a visual masterpiece and an endlessly engrossing head-scratcher, Nolan’s screenplay bringing in some seriously big ideas and throwing us some major narrative knots and loopholes, constantly wrong-footing the viewer while also setting up truly revelatory payoffs from seemingly low-key, unimportant beginnings – this is a film you need to be awake and attentive for or you could miss something pretty vital. The action sequences are, as ever, second to none, some of the year’s very best set-pieces coming thick and fast and executed with some of the most accomplished skill in the business, while Nolan-regular cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar and Dunkirk, as well as the heady likes of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, SPECTRE and Ad Astra) once again shows he’s one of the best camera-wizards in the business today by delivering some truly mesmerising visuals. Notably, Nolan’s other regular collaborator, composer Hans Zimmer, is absent here (although he has good reason, currently working on his dream project, the fast-approaching screen adaptation of Dune), but Ludwig Göransson (best known for his regular collaborations with Ryan Coogler on the likes of Fruitvale Station, Creed and Black Panther, as well as truly awesome work on The Mandalorian) makes for a fine replacement, crafting an intriguingly internalised, post-modern musical landscape that thrums and pulses in time with the story and emotions of the characters rather than the action itself. Interestingly it’s on the subject of sound that some of the film’s rare detractions have been levelled, and I can see some of the points – the soundtrack mix is an all-encompassing thing, and there are times when the dialogue can be overwhelmed, but in Nolan’s defence as a film this is a heady, immersive experience, something you really need to concentrate on, so these potential flaws are easily forgiven. As a piece of filmmaking art, this is another flawless wonder from one of the true masters of the craft working in cinema today, but it’s art with palpable substance, a rewarding whole that really HAS TO BE experienced on the big screen. So put your snobbery at post-lockdown restrictions aside for the moment and get yourself down to your nearest cinema so you can experience it for yourself. You won’t be disappointed. Right now, this is my movie of the year, and with only one possible exception, I really don’t see that changing …

#movies 2020 #body cam #body cam (2020)#blood quantum #blood quantum movie #palm springs #palm springs movie #the last days of american crime #hamilton #hamilton movie #sputnik #sputnik movie #greyhound #greyhound movie #project power #the old guard #tenet #tenet movie #awesome sauce

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joelmillerthirstqz · 4 years

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Fill for this ask~

(slight liberty taken with request for reader to get excited about the shop; Ellie's working through sixteen-year-old, new-to-commitment-as-a-concept with Cat, pre-dina tattoo girlfriend, so i went with that)

Joel, y/n, and Ellie are all out on patrol and come across a small town. In the town, there’s an abandoned wedding dress shop. Y/n gets all excited and goes inside to see there are untouched wedding dresses. Joel’s slightly annoyed when y/n and Ellie want to try some on for fun. But then he sees y/n in a wedding dress and realizes he sees her as more than a friend.

yeah, of course I wrote with reference images up:

texture/sheerness/skirt shape/front dress ref back of dress ref, specifically the window-back with the little covered buttons up over the lower part of the hips

[I evade y/n as a convention like the plague, it’s really immersion crushing for me. However, I’ll edit it for your OC’s name if you hit the ask box, so.]

There's already a second chapter if you we want to get into this, comment or kudos and I'll get brave!

----

Ellie grimaces, scrunching her whole face. She looks across the main street of the town you’d come to scout out, Joel taciturn on his horse a few yards away, scanning storefronts and alleys.

“What?” you jerk your head to her sightline and back at her, unholstering your revolver on reflex. Your horse snuffles below you, hoofing at the ground. You can never tell if the creature is clueless, indifferent, or confident in his rider, but he would certainly be perturbed if there were infected.

“Dude, people had whole shops just for weddings?” Ellie asks, snorting derisively.

You follow her extended arm to the storefront she points to, a frilly off-white dress draped over a sunken model, glass from the smashed display window embedded.

“I mean, you had to have seen them in Boston, plenty of bored people with money,” you supply warmly. You’d grown up there, a cataclysm between the city you’d known and Ellie’s birthplace. Weddings were for people who’d given up, who’d aged out of chasing their dreams, settled into dull domesticity. People, usually the woman-coded partner, whose parents had quarter of a million to drop on a party with lifelong implications.

You’d been a little relieved when social ritual had been mostly taken off the table by the apocalypse, so the wedding pressure never reached you. Hadn’t thought about the concept in years.

You wondered who in Victor, Idaho, just over the border from Jackson, had kept a bridal shop open even before the outbreak. The demand just couldn’t match thousands of dollars of dress.

“Oh, no,” Ellie said softly.

“Well, it was a whole thing. Get some champagne, drag a bunch of girls with you, try on all the shapes and get yelled at by your mom, make jokes about the wedding night. Mostly pointless rituals,” you explain.

“You ever go to one?” Ellie asks.

“I mean, I was my cousin’s bridesmaid, so I got drunk in one and shoved into a blue satin thing, if that counts,” you clarify, shifting in your saddle.

Ellie nudges Shimmer forward, Joel drawing up to your position with a helpless shrug to you.

“It was strange. Were you in Jackson for Tommy’s?” you ask. Maria and Tommy still have that thing where they see each other and tune everything else out, even for a beat, seeming like every sense recognizes the other, no matter what else they’re doing. It feels so belligerently normal, and you watch the younger couples in the town taking note to emulate it, like they knew what they were doing because they were born before.

“No,” Joel says, looking wistful. “Seen pictures,” he adds.

“Imagine they were a bigger deal in Texas,” you say, your horses trotting a few paces behind Ellie.

Joel looks at you, face cycling through the decision to keep speaking, the same circuit you always saw him loop before he bit down on a memory and fell silent. You let the afterimage of a smile cross your face before looking down, feeling like he needs the same privacy he’d proven skilled at respecting in your own expression.

—Yesterday—

“Ask you a favor?” you feel your bones leave your body and slam back into place with fear, registering Joel’s low drawl. You’d groggily found your way into the stables to start patrol, hoodie tucked over a beanie, praying not to be seen. Nobody was supposed to be awake this early—you were avoiding a less experienced, loquacious patrolmate you’d been sentenced to and your throat clasps around itself to find that the previous night’s team, Joel’s, was only just returning.

“How bad was it?” you tip your head at the blood spatter on the side of his jacket, reddened bucket and sponge set where he’d been cleaning the infected byproduct off of his horse.

“Oh, I straggled, rest gone home. Patrol route’s quiet now, though,” he non-explains. You’re not sure if he’s trying to keep his voice low out of respect for the early hour or if that’s just his usual rumbling tone resounding it in the stark, chilly air.

“Mhm. What’s the favor?” you ask, busying yourself with saddling your own horse.

“About scouting that town for the group to search, tomorrow. Ellie’s comin’ and…” he trails off, looking at the wood-plank wall, blinking an eye at the fierce early morning sun beaming through a sliver.

You’ve learned not to rush him, learned he’s easier to talk to with his hands full, and he finishes scrubbing off his horse’s bridle while you tack up your own.

“She talks to you, easier,” Joel admits, face obscured behind his horse, taking his time to brush through the animal’s fur, obliviously slurping hay into its mouth before crinkling it in its teeth.

“Huh?” you ask, marvel of articulation that you are.

“Ellie, she’s more talkative,” he repeats himself.

“No, I mean, what?”

You hear a sigh and he leans around his horse, hands on his hips.

“Please?” he asks, slightest edge of irritation at having to say more than he’d practiced. It's all insecurity, not directed at you, but you bristle anyway.

“Alright. It’s your business, but I’ll lend my girl talk instinct,” you prod with bite, stuffing your foot into a stirrup and swinging a leg up onto Clover, who’d been named before you got to Jackson. Your emotional labor threshold never existed, and Joel was fucking pushing it.

“That’s not what I meant,” he sounds defeated as you look down at him, Clover slowing helpfully. His eyes look full, and you peer at him. He looks a little vulnerable—even if your worst anxieties read it as him noticing that you squint to avoid looking at his mouth—which is parted a little, black beard flecked with, for you, exactly the correct amount of grey. Joel rubs his lips together three times, quick, the way you’d seen when he wanted to stop talking at town meetings, shy of the eyes on him.

You soften, aware you’re irritable from lack of sleep and scarcity of good caffeine. You look ahead, reins creaking in your gloves conspicuously in the still space.

“Owe me a beer when I’m back tonight, okay?” you nod at him and press into Clover’s flank as Joel silently assents, focus snapping back to brushing out his horse. You risk looking back as Clover picks up, relieved and let down to see Joel doggedly focused on his task. You’d taken to drinking with the other patrolmen in the Tipsy Bison, edging into something resembling a social life borne of something like mutual responsibility. The group repeatedly made plain his welcome over the last few months until Joel had started to show up routinely, even murmuring a few words here and there, coming to the point that you’d notice when he wasn’t there.

—

“Okay but, why, though?” Ellie paws at a veil as you enter the store, pompous fabric ballooning halfway down the mannequin’s back.

“Dunno, it’s what people wore. I think that was for modesty, symbolically. Only went to a couple. My friends never hit the ‘wedding season’ stride. Too young,” you explain, your senior year of college on outbreak day. A look crosses Joel’s face and he spins the barrel of his revolver, leaning against the counter, trying to look busy checking the register, just in case something helpful lingered.

“Go try one on, Ellie,” you try, unsure what the sixteen-year-old is working through. Her attention hasn’t drifted to the next shops to explore, yet, so it clearly matters.

“Not for me,” she protests, hands raised. “Will you?”

You laugh ruefully, years away from the last time you’d put on something close to a dress, much less something formal, and you'd certainly never thought about being a bride. Not materially.

“C’mon, I’ve never seen like, a normal human in one,” Ellie pouts. You narrow your eyes for a second, lightly dubious.

“That’s not the best idea,” Joel grouses next to you, looking over both his shoulders like he was expecting an ambush even though it had been placid the whole way up here. Two of your three horses nudge each other for space near the tree you’ve secured them too, whinnying.

“I’ll keep my boots on for running. And you’ll keep a lookout,” you reply blithely, rolling your eyes at him.

“Yell for help!’ Ellie still discovering nuptial detritus she’d seen alluded to in comics at most.

You busy yourself finding something not set through with rot, moving towards the back of the store. Ellie swings open a display case and picks up a circular, springy fabric, a pale blue garter, squinting with the effort of discernment.

“Were the hair tie things a thing for a reason?” Ellie asks Joel, looping the blue-ribboned elastic around her wrist for later. Joel’s eyes widen in horror, ready to run towards the nearest infected to avoid explaining the whole garter thing to Ellie.

A second, more frigid wave hits him, remembering his own wedding day, Tommy helping him get just drunk enough to go through with the embarrassing ritual that complemented the bouquet toss. Sarah’s mom had loved all the stupid little wedding-day-things, though, so he’d accepted the shot(s) his brother snuck him and was grateful his red face would be under a skirt. He’d barely been eighteen, doing the right thing with Sarah’s mom pregnant, and two-years-younger Tommy held it together for him the whole day. He thought of not being here for the day his little brother had gotten hitched, a candid Polaroid in focus in the reel of guilt he’d built for himself these last twenty-some years. Tommy looked like his brother as he was before in it, looking up Maria with rapt awe as he accepted her hand to be led back to the dance floor. The crinkling at the corner of his eyes, though older, looked like Tommy again, and the joy Joel felt for him was dulled by the impossibility of ever speaking enough words to draw a partner near.

“Joel?” she pokes, twanging the elastic a little to jar him. He eyes it warily, expression the most intimidated you'd ever seen him.

You trudge past Ellie, awkwardly dragging a plastic-encased parcel of a voluminous dress, the best-preserved and least yellowed you’d found. You really didn’t relish the idea of figuring out how to get it on alone, but seeing their exchange, you fully self-preserved your way away from that particular explanation to the changing space.

“Fuck me,” you grimace, noticing the trail of covered buttons leading from the open mid-back to the very last point it could presentably grace between the dimples on your back. Wrestling this on would be a chore.

Before you shuck everything but your boots and socks, you try to smooth your hair down, the moss-flecked mirror of the changing space indicating how hopeless it is. You re-strap your pistol holster to your thigh, an overabundance of caution rubbing off on you from Joel's mere anxious proximity.

You look at your reflection a minute, appraising heavy breasts, softer hips than before. You’re proud that your abdomen and arms remain taut and toned from a combination of riding and patrolling, sprinting for your life, and helping around Jackson. For once in your life, you fall asleep at night when you hit the pillow, naked and alone, no longer captive of the ceiling’s backlighting of unidentifiable darting thoughts. Blinking your musing away, you remember how your cousin’s bridal attendant had made a circle of the dress for her to step into, and do your best to prepare it so you can slide it up and ask Ellie to help.

—

Ellie slingshotted the something-blue at Joel’s face as he finished explaining the garter tradition, hushing her ferociously and finally placing both palms over his whole face, crossing and re-crossing his ankles where he leant against the counter, rifle over his shoulder.

Ellie rolled her eyes, haughtily full of recent knowledge of thighs and what they connect to from Cat, fern and moth tattoo freshly peeling over her acid burn.

—

“Ellie!” you call once the skirt is over your hips, bodice with laced cap sleeves over your shoulders. You feel a little bad stepping past the carefully sewn fabric in your hiking boots and high socks, grimy from the trail’s dust, trying to hold it up while keeping the bodice straight.

She smiles wryly as her head pokes around the corner.

“I’ll help if you tell me if people really launched their bouquets at people and one person really pulled a—uh, shit, uh, thigh lingerie thing—off of the bride in front of everyone?”

You honk a laugh, a horrible sound, thinking of the velocity with which you’d seen Ellie launch bricks, knowing she has no sense of the soft lob of flowers at friends that she refers to. You guess she's picturing a full-bodied overarm spike ending in flower shrapnel instead of the over-the-shoulder choreography towards the bride's most single friend that happened in reality. You clasp the delicate buttons at your lower back together as best you can with your palms.

“Sounds like that was regionally universal in America, yeah, but—”

“Holy shit,” Ellie comments, suddenly shuddering in a very teenage, possibly exaggerated ripple of disgust. “Looked like a hair tie,” she mutters.

“Just—please help,” you hold the tulle and hand-cut lace near the buttons out to her.

“Wow, this was for everyone to see you in?” Ellie asks, alluding to the sheer fabric that gave the impression that the lace filigrees were directly applied to your skin. Asymmetrical, hand-sewn flowers cinch around your breasts and middle when she finally secures it.

You turn to the angled three-part mirror, noticing where your epaulet tattoo complicates the sheer effect the designers intended by the lace, nose bunching up. Not the flesh of the intended buyer of this thing, for sure.

“Come on, in the light!” Ellie goads gently.

Bracing to self-deprecate, you tuck your hair up in one hand and hold the front of the dress up and away from your muddy boots. You and outward, finding the weird little podium that was apparently customary—you remember your cousin twirling on it a similar one in delight when she’d found the right dress.

“Yeah, fuck, I can’t do this for long,” you bristle, feeling ungainly in the garment, dropping the skirts around your feet.

“And you’d just walk up to someone and kiss them in front of everyone and that worked?” Ellie prattles, tailing you closely.

Joel’s retreated to the store entrance, hunting rifle comfortable in his hands but pointedly ready.

He turns in the middle of running some sort of ten foot patrol route along the length of the store’s entrance, inevitable that he’d face you eventually. You realize he’s just pacing, the town quiet, stuck in a situation he accidentally created.

Ellie gives you a look that looks through you, and you recognize the contemplation in it. She’s thinking of someone, and what formalizing intimacy means, probably. Certainly where your mind was at around her age. Fuck, you’d not go back to sixteen for all the pre-outbreak world.

“I’m gonna go check the horses,” she mumbles, maybe in her own head, maybe more deliberate than that.

Your eyes bulge as you realize you’re stuck in this fucking thing and Ellie’s across the street.

You turn to Joel with a prepared face, tugging your dimples into a self-effacing “look at this shit” face.

“Wanna try one on?” you jab first, trying to get there before Joel can make this worse, more stupid. He’d kind of asked you, or asked for a favor that led to this, so you felt contented blaming him for it. You definitely will if his slight over-caution is vindicated and you get rushed by anything hostile while you're wearing this. Your holster may feel comforting, but the weight of the skirt would put a real drag on any reflexes you had if you actually needed your pistol.

Joel halted at the midpoint of his circling, rifle slack in his hands, hanging limp before him. The light from outside rings his form, broad shoulders and imposing frame worn uneasily in his posture.

His mouth parts the way it had when you’d ridden past him in the stables, chest expanding and falling in quick iterations, hazel eyes stranded on you.

You breathe as you hold his eyes, unable to back down from any time he proved capable of holding direct eye contact. Now that you had it, you realized you’d been teasing it out of him for months, forcing him to look right at you, any creative way you could, driving him up the wall.

Joel might as well have been waist-deep in water for how slowly he moves towards you.

“Sorry, not meaning to bring up anything—” you swallow the word painful, revising quickly, “from before,” you finish weakly. Gold star, idiot. You had no idea, but what if it had been a wife he’d lost? Fuck’s sake. Though, Ellie wouldn't be cruel like that—

Joel shakes his head absently, dismissive. He was run aground, captive to taking you in. The dress made no overtures to performative modesty, sheer tulle slits up to the edge of your hipbones, catching on your holster where you shift. Joel assesses the fabric spread over your chest quickly, mouth upturning too subtly for you to feel 100% confident you’d seen him do it. You’d seen him get the lay of a whole horde in a split second, and stood curious what it was he’d noted from the two and a half seconds his eyes drifted over you.

“‘m here, now,” he mumbles, looking down and pulling the bolt back, a dull click as it confirmed he’d chambered this particular round ten times in the last five minutes. If a weapon could sound exasperated with him, it did, and he jerks his head without turning it to Ellie’s retreating form.

Joel’s mind sprints between stations, picking up an artifact of your expression at each one: your body, your easy conversations on patrol, fumbling between them all, not sure where to start.

Ellie wasn’t far enough away for Joel to start this now, to cross the shop and kiss you, podium leveling you to the perfect height for him to lean into, hands on your face. Something in his posture looks ready to move quickly, and it's not to use the weapon his knuckles whiten around.

The edges of his eyes pinch, like he’s struggling to make sense of an indescribable noise. The tendon running from your ear to collarbone stands out as you look to the side, pretending to appraise the way the dress fits over your hips, snugly buttoned. Joel’s face shifts from startled to starved while you take reprieve from his focus.

Your furrowed brows while you watch Joel watch you spark understanding of the mechanics of a constant, firm draw towards your person. He’s recognizing you as more than a formidable shot he can be at ease with, not just a pleasant confidante with different but complementary pre-outbreak life experiences and a healthy sense of privacy.

Joel glances down one more time, catching your eyes on the way back up as he clears his throat, finding you looking at him sheepishly. He hadn’t tried to say a word in minutes.

“I’m. I’m stuck in here. Ellie—” you stammer, face reddening viciously. This was going to be a long, tiring patrol excursion, and you worried you had already made it weird.

You idly wonder where he might put his hands on you if you were alone, right now, and your terror is visible as the thought drifts by. If he would.

Joel doesn’t look back at Ellie where you’d normally expect a concerned jolt at her name, hazel eyes heatedly dark. You can chalk it up to the dimmed interior of the shop, but enough sunlight streams in to make you doubt its just the environment.

Grimacing at a clearly out-of-earshot Ellie, you need to be out of this fucking thing and redouble.

“Joel, can you? I feel bad ripping it and would really like my jeans again,” you offer weakly.

Joel’s fingertips, fingertips you wish you didn’t know were callused and so goddamn cautious when they’d had the occasion to meet yours, flex on his gun.

“Not sure I know how to, I mean, those seem—special?” he stammers at the prospect, you having turned to bare your back to him.

Joel breathes in a way you can hear on the silent street, usually so contained.

She’s just helping you see the buttons. Joel thinks, counting out twelve of them, in total.

Joel steadies his gaze, tipping his head forward and choosing to take in the slope of your back, mostly bare and deep-dipping expanse scantly wreathed in lace. His face looks like he’s staring something potentially fatal down, gritted jaw muscles pulsing. He steps towards you, though. He’d never done anything in the right order, not Sarah, not with Tess, not a bit, one single time. Might as well get you dress off before he can even get the courage to kiss you.

Slinging his rifle’s strap over his shoulder, Joel keeps his fingers at a careful angle, purposefully not against your skin. Pushing the top button through the satin loop containing it, he steps up on the podium with you, only because it puts his lips well out of an easy distance to drag along the nape of your neck. Hoping he can feel his way down the buttons without touching or looking at you, he fails three buttons down, knuckles brushing the bottom of your spine.

You laugh nervously, looking back at Joel. Every part of your core is twining into a spiral, abdomen first, then a layer deeper, then a clench you won’t register because then you’d have to admit that something was going on.

For his part, his dark brows are furrowed in effort, decidedly back in the realm of watching every movement to avoid the electrocution he’d just experienced from grazing you. Now was the time for accuracy, not speed.

Joel takes in your little cap sleeves between buttons, down to the eighth of twelve. The hand-cut lace outlines your shoulders, leading to lean skin below, dipping lower in the front than he should be noticing now that you’ve turned away from him—but he’s too tall to miss it once you’re standing on level ground. He wonders what you would do if he pulled you against him now, back pressed to his front, his mouth on your neck before your own.

‘Thank you,” Joel says.

You crane your head to meet his eyes again, hands pressed to opposite shoulders to prevent the now-loosened dress from slipping all the way. Maybe you didn’t need the rest of the buttons, but there they went. You blink at him, wondering what would happen if you leaned against him.

“What?” you feel all wrapped in half-fabric, half-suggestion, no idea what the fuck he means.

“For comin’,” he gives. “Didn’t, uh, thanks for…” he trails off, so unaccustomed to indirectness and illocution that he doesn’t know what to call it. He clears his throat.

Joels hits the tenth button and breathes deep, flicking through the last two like he’s reloading, stepping back to reclaim his rifle and get so, so many feet away from you.

You turn to him, holding the weighty dress flush against your skin with both hands.

Joel’s chest is rising and falling every three seconds in rapid cycles, peculiar as you’d patrolled enough together to hear how he can silence his breath, the infrequent draws of someone yards underwater. He either can’t control this or made a choice to stop, and you can only think that the rust colored plaid he’d worn today was truly nice on him.

The rest of your scouting trip is deafeningly quiet, like Joel riding next to you and his surly expression produce volume equivalent to standing under a roaring set of falls. Ellie punctures it every few minutes with an attempted joke and you can almost feel Joel groan before you hear it each time, thoughtful.

Notes:

Here's the meta you didn't ask for

In current 2020, hard to see in weddings as anything other than class signifiers/routes to wife-n’ up, but:

holy shit does the apocalypse , esp. Tommy’s hope-imperative thing, make room for meaningfully coded rituals and aspirational ideologies not hijacked by the wedding industry’s profit motive.

Joel’s coming from the context of a wife who left Joel alone because having Sarah ruined her young life, so his view of it is understandably dismissive. Reader was more interesting to make opposite—college-aged asshole without responsibilities on Outbreak Day, less room for traditions.

But: Jackson is frozen in time and CRAVES ritual. Where it was meaningless in a world of abundance, you need markers of the years and ways to say “that person is my person;" it's joy as resistance.

For instance, something about Christmas hits different when you’re not fist fighting consumers for prelit trees after scuttling past a Salvation Army Santa in a mall. Jackson feels so sincere, every decoration scavenged or hewn with love, with purpose and forethought.

There’s joy in scarcity and glut in abundance is my point, I guess. Joel gets that on a basic level, even though he’s obstinate as hell about letting himself have anything good or even open to the idea.

#prompt fills #joel tlou #tlou #tlou ii #dumb epiphanies #joel miller #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #the last of us joel #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us ii #the last of us 2 #asks #filled prompts #prompts #joel/reader

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calif0rnia-lovers · 5 years

Text

High Expectations: Young!Mayans

Part I: Veronica, not Ronnie

Pairing: Angel Reyes x OC (Ronnie Vargas)

Sarah Jeffery for Veronica Vargas

Santiago Segura as Young Angel

Summary: When he interjects himself into a dispute between Veronica and her ex-boyfriend, Ricardo, Angel lands them both in detention. All Ricardo can think about is kicking Angel’s ass next time he sees him. Veronica how the detention will look on her permanent record (Oxford wouldn’t really want to hear about her near-death, fightclub experience in her personal essay). Angel, he just wants to pass his midterms so he doesn’t get kicked off the team before the homecoming game. And to convince Veronica to attend the dance with him. According to his busted throwing hand, Angel may not have his priorities straight.

A/N: No one asked for Young Mayans but here is part one for Angel Reyes. Don’t try and tell me EZ Reyes was the only Reyes brother with dreams of a different future. I had so much fun writing this, so please let me know what you think

Words: 8K.

Angel knew from the moment his hand connected with Ricky’s nose he was fucked.

It hurt like shit.

Growing up in Santo Padre, Angel Reyes had participated in his fair share of fights. Many times they were over his younger brother, Ezekiel. Smart kids are always the target of bullies. Other times, Angel was defending himself and his slick remarks. Either way, Angel has punched enough people to tell when his hand was broken.

Luckily, his hand wasn’t broken. Ricky’s nose was broken.

Although not broken, Angel’s hand was definitely going to fuck with his ability to throw a football for a couple of days.

But Angel didn’t care.

See, Angel has never liked Ricardo Deza, despite the two of them being co-captains for the school Varsity football team. To be honest, 90% of the world doesn’t like Ricardo Deza. Since the moment he could speak, Ricardo has always talked to everyone as though they were lesser than the dirt on the bottom of his shoes. That’s the only way you know how to talk when your dad owns more than half of the city.

Usually, Angel just ignored the guy. But when he saw Veronica slap him, Angel knew there was going to be trouble. She couldn’t slap Ricardo Deza and not be put in her place. Especially when she does it in front of nearly half the football team, and senior class.

Ricky has spent the last month complaining about Veronica, more than usual.

His usual complaint was that she wouldn’t sleep with him. Despite a year of dating, it never happened. Not for a lack of trying on Ricky’s part. Veronica Vargas has always been consistent, especially when her mind is made up. When Ricky tried to push her to the next level in the back seat of his car last month, she broke it off. Right then and there. And Ricky has been having trouble grasping that they’re no longer together, which means he can no longer tell her what to do.

He had waited for her outside of her AP Calculus class, catching her the second she stepped into the hallway. He had two homecoming tickets in tow.

Angel was busy opening his locker and his own business when Veronica made it to hers, just a few lockers down.

“I’m not sure how many times I have to say no before you get it, Ricardo,” Veronica had sighed as she concentrated on spinning her combination. “I’m not going to the homecoming dance. And, even if I was, I’m not going with you.”

“Babe, come on,” Ricky pouted, his shoulder resting against a nearby locker as she switched out her books. “I know you were trying to make a point. The point has been made. Stop being a bitch about it and just take the ticket. Take me off a timeout, or whatever it is you think you’re doing.”

Shutting her locker, Veronica gave Ricardo a smile.

“Sorry, Ricky,” she smiled, tucking her AP English book against her chest. “The answer is still no. Stop texting me about it, and showing up to my classes. It’s starting to look pathetic. Everyone knows we’re not together anymore. Why don’t you just ask one of the cheerleaders? I’m sure they’ll go with you, and might even let it hit in the backseat of your car since apparently, it’s deal-breaker for a real relationship when you can’t.”

Angel had seen Ricky reach for Veronica when she’d turned away. A few students had passed, diverting their gazes when Ricky’s hand bruisingly dug into the skin of her upper arm, and he yanked her body from the center of the hallway dragging it back towards her locker. A few more students stopped in their tracks, their conversations slowly dying out as he pressed her back against the locker his six feet easily blocking her from their view.

The initial shock of his actions had delayed Veronica’s reaction, her books falling from her arms in the process. But when his grip tightened, his face scrunching up in anger, as he hissed out her name she moved to yank away from him. Her act of defiance caused Ricky’s grip to painfully tighten.

Her hand hit him before she realized what had happened. But the second his grip around her arm loosened she was shoving against his chest and stumbling sideways to wedge herself from between his body and her locker.

She hadn’t even realized that Angel had stepped in, and diverted Ricky’s path until he was being pulled away to reveal a bloodied nosed Ricky doubling over.

The events that followed had been a blur.

Angel was carted off by members from the team. Ricky was taken to the nurse’s office. Veronica was taken to the principal’s office. But, instead of being asked to file an incident report she was given a pack of ice for her arm. She was also given a speech about how sometimes relationships get testy when emotions are involved. How that a “good boy” like Ricardo Deza sometimes has trouble when he doesn’t get his way, but that doesn’t mean he acted out of ill intent. Her favorite was the last line, that a broken nose should be good enough punishment for his mistakes. Not writing up a report that would hinder him from playing in the biggest game of the school’s football season. After his speech, the principal asked if she was okay and if she wanted to call her father.

Veronica was smart, she knew that if she called his office her father would ask two things.

When did you break up with Ricardo Deza Sr.’s son?

What did you say to piss him off?

Not:

Are you okay?

Stay put, I’ll be right there, I’ll handle this little shit.

The principal knew the same thing. So she declines the phone call and asks if she can go back to class in time for her AP English midterm review session.

Her request is granted, but not after she is provided a pink detention slip.

Veronica goes through the rest of her day, trying her best to ignore the whispers and stares she gets in class and in the hallways. And when the final bell rings, instead of attending the weekly SGA meeting she heads to detention for the first time in her life.

Readjusting the strap of her backpack resting on her shoulder, Veronica slightly shakes her head. Never in a million years did she think she would ever be in room 230 after school.

Room 230, her AP Calculus classroom, moonlights as the after school detention center.

As she takes in the nearly full room, Veronica still cannot shake the feeling that she was wrongly sent her. The pink slip, signed by her principal, would beg to differ.

“You going in, or what?”

Snapping out of her thoughts, Veronica takes a step through the doorway allowing the kid behind her to slip past and take a seat.

Mr. Riley, the gym teacher, is seated at the front of the room. With his feet resting atop the desk, he is focused on the laptop in his lap. Typing away, he doesn’t seem to care that no one has stopped to complete the sign-in sheet.

Veronica pauses before the desk. Clearing her throat, she offers up the pink slip.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Riley. I just wanted to make sure you knew I was here.” Her voice falters once he makes no move to look and see who is speaking to him. “Um, is there anything else I have to do besides sign in?”

Not bothering to glance away from his screen, Mr. Riley nods towards the desk.

“Drop it in the basket, and take a seat, Vargas.”

Dropping her pink slip inside the basket by his feet, Veronica turns to find all eyes in the room are on her. Most people just glance back down at their phones, a few smile and shake their heads. Spotting a seat in the back, she makes her way towards it.

She sets her bag down on the desk and takes out her planner.

Written on the board in chalk it reads.

No passes. No talking. And no disturbing me. Leave at 4:30.

Nearly fifteen minutes have passed, when the classroom door opens. Veronica, like everyone else, glances away from her desk to watch Angel Reyes walk in.

Despite getting into a fight, he appears unscathed. Or affected by what took place. He dawns the same boyish grin that he does every time you see him.

He digs into his pocket, fished out his pink slip and tosses it into the basket by Riley’s feet.

“How’s it going, Riley?” He drops the rolled-up bag of food in his hand off at the desk. “Got you some fries today.”

Although he’s late, Riley doesn’t bother looking up. The only sign of acknowledgment is the thumbs-up he shoots in Angel’s direction.

Clearly, Angel’s being late to detention is a regular thing because no one else bothers to look at him past the quick exchange.

He’s in the process of going to his seat when Angel sees Veronica. He had wondered if she’d get the same consequence as him, while Ricky was let off with a warning. He can’t help but smile once he realizes she’s the only one actually using detention to study.

The dark curls falling around her face are what captures his attention. He’s never seen them in this light. They’re usually pulled back, high in a neat ponytail. As he stares for a moment longer, Angel realizes that’s not the only thing out of place - apart from the projected valedictorian sitting in his usual seat. She is dressed in a maroon sweatshirt and a pair of jeans.

She had changed out of her dress from this morning, the sweatshirt she wore hiding the bruises left across her skin.

As if she could sense his gaze, Veronica blinks. Looking up, she meets a pair of familiar eyes. Eyes that tend to linger on her when she passes or responds to a question. Eyes that tend to find her in class when she thinks no one else is noticing her.

Plastering a smile on her face, she gave him one before returning her attention to her textbook.

Instead of simply taking her quick acknowledgment and going about his merry way, like she hopes he will, Angel takes the seat in front of her. Heat rushes to Veronica’s face as Angel drops his backpack to the floor, before turning in his seat to face her.

“You must be taking a page out of my book, Ronnie.”

Veronica doesn’t have to look up from her textbook to know that a cheeky grin is accompanying Angel’s words. So, she doesn’t.

“Clearly, you don’t think the rules apply to you,” she huffs. “But I’m not getting written up for talking when it clearly says on the board. No. Talking. I think I’ve had enough trouble for one day.”

Angel’s brow arches as he glances over his shoulder, his eyes moving to Mr. Riley who is still typing away on his laptop.

“Riley?” He chuckles, returning his gaze to Veronica. “He’s not gonna write you up. He only puts that up there incase another teachers walk by.”

Instead of speaking, Veronica lifts her left hand and gives Angel a thumbs-up sign. He chuckles as she turns the page and continues reading. He watches her for a few seconds slightly impressed by how easily she has maintained focus. Most girls don’t, at least not when he’s involved.

Angel rests his arms against the back of his chair, silently observing her. After a few seconds, he releases a sigh of boredom before reaching forward.

“What are you looking at anyway?” He takes the book from Veronica’s hands, ignoring the wide eyes that lift to meet his. He starts to turn the book for a better look, but his swollen hand slows down the process allowing Veronica to halt his actions.

Veronica glares at him, the sight of her nose scrunching pulling a smile to Angel’s lips. Ignoring his smile, she drags the book back across the desk.

"If you’re looking for gratitude, then here. Thank you for stepping in when no one asked you to. That’s all you’re getting from me. Nothing else. Now, turn and leave me alone, Reyes."

Angel smiles, as she redirects her attention back to her book.

"You do know that's not actually my full name. Right?"

Angel watches her eyes briefly close, the soft breath she takes somehow making him smile. He knew she was getting irritated. He also knew that she was nearly as cute angry as she was any other time he saw her.

"Really, you have it plastered across the back of your jersey. It's kind of hard not to notice when it’s all wear. Well, that and your letterman jacket."

"If I knew you'd took that much notice, I'd put on something a little nicer for you," Angel smiles as her eyes meet his. "I figured you thought it was sexy, like the rest of the girls at this school, being as you date football players and all."

For a moment, Veronica doesn’t respond. As much as she’d hate to admit it, Angel was right. Veronica originally attended all of the football games because her younger sister was part of the cheerleading squad. Eventually, she began attending the games for Ricardo. You can’t date a football player and not attend the games. Even if you weren’t that big of a fan, to begin with. Even though she attended the games for Ricardo, she always noticed Angel. It’s hard not to notice Angel. He was just as cocky on the field as he was off of it. It drove Ricardo insane that Angel didn’t have to have his father buy his spot on the team. She finds her eyes taking him in for a moment. A heat warms her cheeks once she realizes he’s watching her as well.

She blinks, her gaze falling to the book.

Yeah," she sighs. Leaning forward, she pushes his arms that have been resting on her desk away. "Well, you know what’s not sexy? Getting detention."

Angel smiles watching as she uses the now freed space to place her book back out flat across her desk. Leaning back over it, she focuses on the page.

"I beg to differ.”

“Shocking” she huffs, not giving him the satisfaction of returning her gaze to his.

Angel shrugs and leans forward. He rests his arms back on her desk, his action bringing him closer to her.

“I think it’s pretty hot when a girl stands up for herself. Even if it means fucking up her squeaky clean record.”

A heat rushes across Veronica’s skin as she rests her chin in the palm of her hand. She tries her best to ignore the words that have just come from the young man sitting across from her. But as she starts to re-read the sentence she realizes she can’t.

Despite having attended the same schools since primary, Angel and Veronica have never shared this many words in a single sitting. In fact, when they were younger the closet interactions Angel had with Veronica was being on the receiving end of her glares when he interrupted class with a joke or a smart comment. On occasion, he would get a subtle smile out of her when she thought he was actually being funny and not annoying. Or, he’d get a quick smile if she caught his eyes on her in passing. The most they would exchange in words was a “hey” or “thank you” when he managed to catch the door for her throughout the halls.

“Angel, I’m trying to study,” she whispers, her gaze briefly meeting his.

“Why?” Angel chuckles as he watches her eyes widen.

“Because we have a European history midterm in two weeks.”

The emphasis Veronica places on midterm has no visible effect on Angel. Instead of reaching into his backpack to retrieve his own textbook, as she’d expected, Angel’s expression remains blank. As if he is waiting for her to add more pertinent information to her statement.

“..And…”

“Because we have a European midterm in two weeks,” Veronica speaks slowly this time, her brow furrowing as she searches his face for any sign of panic.

“Yeah, but you’re the smartest person I know,” Angel shrugs. "I mean, there’s also my little brother. Kid's a walking sponge."

The end of his statement causes her eyes to lift from the page, to find Angel’s face is mere inches away from hers. The closeness causes her to sit up straight. When she doesn't speak, Angel adds.

"He's in eighth grade and a certified genius. I keep telling my parents to let him skip highschool. Send him off to college early."

"The one who orders the double chocolate milkshakes?"

Nodding, Angel watches her attention return to the book.

He's not surprised that she actually remembers Ezekiel. When their parents have to stay late at the shop, Angel takes Ezekiel to the team's favorite spot. Mary’s Diner. Angel isn’t allowed to leave Ezekiel at home alone unless he wants to risk death by his mother, so he carts him wherever he goes. Ezekiel sits at the counter, finishing homework while Angel jokes around with the team in their booths towards the back.

Veronica is a waitress there. Not because her parents won’t give her money, but because she doesn’t want to take it.

There was one night when Ez found her studying on her break. He’d asked her what she was reading, and after her briefly explaining it to him he asked if he could read her book when she was finished. Now when he comes in, she provides him with the latest book from her AP English class.

"Are you going to talk to me the entire time, or let me study in peace?”

Innocently lifting his hands in the air, Angel watches as she mouths a thank you before returning her focus to her book.

Angel doesn’t say anything else to Veronica for the remaining hour and a half of detention. He starts on his English homework but isn’t able to get any close to finishing. Instead, his mind is on Veronica.

When the bell rings, Veronica is already packed and is nearly out the door by the time Angel can shove his belongings in his backpack.

He quickly catches up with her, the smile on his face causing her eyes to roll.

“So I was thinking-”

“I’m late for work.” Turning the corner, Veronica causes Angel to nearly trip over his feet as he attempts to redirect his path.

She heads to her locker. Concentrating on her combination, she ignores him as Angel rests against the locker beside hers.

Instead of speaking, he lets his eyes rest on her face. Her eyes briefly move to his a few times as she packs up her backpack.

“What?” She asks after a few moments of silence.

“So I was thinking-”

“So you said. About what?”

“Us.” Angel’s response causes Veronica’s eyes to roll.

“There is no us, Reyes,” she laughs dryly. Retrieving her jacket from her locker she shoves it in her backpack.

“Come on, Ronnie,” Angel smiles. “Sure there is. I nearly threw away my entire future defending your honor today.”

“Did you? First of all, noone asked you to defend my honor. I was doing perfectly fine. Second of all, everyone knows you hate Ricardo. You were probably just looking for an excuse to prove your dick is bigger than his. Isn’t that what you guys do?”

“I’m just saying, usually when a guy stands up for a girl-”

“What?” Veronica halts her actions. She focuses her attention on Angel, her eyes narrowing. “She lets him take her to the backseat of his car. Is that what is about?”

“Hey,” Angel shrugs, his smile causing her to roll her eyes. “Just remember, I’m not the one who suggested it. You did when you were projecting your misguided anger onto me-”

“Hm, okay.” Veronica scoffs.

“I pay attention in class, sometimes,” Angel grins.

“Okay, well do me a favor. Leave me alone. Don’t try and play me like one of the bimbos on the cheerleading team-”

“Isn’t your sister a cheerleader?”

Angel’s quick tongue has always been enough to leave people flustered. It even trips up his mom at times, but his mother was used to it by now. Veronica was used to minding her own business. She never really found herself in situations like this. Maybe that’s why Angel’s response does leave her flustered.

“That’s beside the point. You know what I mean. I’m not phased by the fact that you’re a captain of the football team.”

Angel disregards her previous statements, his eyes drop from hers. His smile and lingering gaze bring the heat to her cheeks.

“I’d like to see you swap out your jeans for your sister’s skirt one day. Maybe next week at Parker’s Halloween party. I could take you. Give you a ride-’

“I am not someone you can trick into the backseat of your car.”

“That’s okay. I don’t trick girls into the backseat of my car. After a few minutes, they practically beg me to get in.”

“Oh, wow!”

Slamming her locker door shut, Veronica pays no attention to the strange glances floating her way. The only glance she can see is Angel’s. The cocky smirk on his face stroking the anger fueling deep inside of her. It was a strange feeling. One she hardly let show. It was a feeling she was usually an expert at suppressing. In the thirteen years, he’d known her Angel had never seen Veronica get mad before, apart from this morning when she slapped her ex-boyfriend across the face. Either she was having a really shitty day, or Angel didn’t have her figured out as he thought.

Veronica turns away from Angel. She knows what her mother would say if she could see her eldest daughter now. He’s the type of guy that likes to see you riled up. Don’t give him the satisfaction, Veronica.

She takes two steps towards the main stairwell, but wheels around the second she replays Angel’s words in her mind. Heading back in his direction she feels her face heat as Angel lets his gaze pass over her from head to toe. She didn’t understand how he could appear so calm and collected when he’d left her flustered.

“Actually, you know what. I take that back. I don’t know what I expected from you. You’re just living up to every single expectation I had about you from the moment we met-”

“You’re exceeding mine. I didn’t think you’d be so stuck up.” Letting his hand find her waist, Angel avoids the swipe of her hand that comes in response. “How do manage to fit a stick up your ass and wear those jeans?”

Veronica’s eyes narrow. The look that flashes inside of them causes Angel to brace himself for a slap that never comes.

Instead of responding, she shoves past him and starts towards the parking lot.

“Come on, Ronnie.” Angel rolls his neck, calling after her. “I was kidding, geez. Can’t you take a joke? I thought we were having a fun lover’s quarrel thing going back and forth-”

By the time Angel has caught up to her, Veronica’s near her car. And he’s run through nearly a hundred different apologies. Each of them shittier than the last. As she moves to unlock her car door, Angel reaches around her. Knowing better than to touch her, he presses his hand against the door as it opens.

“Do you want me to run you over? If so, give me two seconds to get inside my car, and I will happily oblige.”

Angel releases a sigh before taking a step back. He watches her open the door before tossing her backpack into the back seat.

“Look, I was being an idiot. My mom, she says I have too much sass for my own good-”

“She sounds like a smart woman.”

“She is.” Running his hand over his face, Angel reaches out to catch Veronica’s arm as she moves to get inside. “And she’s also scary as hell. I’m barely passing my classes and the coach reached out to her. Said Principal Weathers is riding him about the grades of the varsity football players. If I don’t get C’s on my midterms in the next two weeks, I’m off the team. If I’m off the team, college is off the table. Ronnie, you’ve got the highest grades in school. I know you don’t like me but…”

Angel’s words came out faster than he intended. His face is hot by the time he’s done getting them all out. It doesn’t help that Veronica’s gaze has lifted, from where his hand rests against her elbow, to his face.

He looks as though he is going to share more, but doesn’t. Instead, he releases her arm before glancing over his shoulder. He looks around the nearly vacant parking lot.

“I gotta pick up my brother. I’m already late as shit. Look, I’m sorry about being a dick.” Angel takes a step back reaching into his pocket for the keys to his truck. “I’ll figure it out. Forget I said anything.”

Not waiting for a response, Angel starts towards his truck.

Instead of getting straight into the car, Veronica finds her gaze following Angel. She bites her lip, her mind drifting to the look she’d seen on Angel’s face a few seconds prior. She knew that look. It was one she only allowed herself to see in the mirror. The look that came when she felt like the cracks in her perfect facade were showing. It was the look of someone afraid everything they’d hoped for could slip away in a matter of seconds because of their failure to meet high expectations. Gripping her eyes shut, she takes a step forward.

“Angel, wait.”

Pausing, Angel turns to find Veronica’s eyes closed.

“I work after school,” she starts. “I have SGA, the newspaper, the debate club…I can tutor you in the evening, but you have to be serious-”

“I can be serious-”

“No, for real. I am not doing the work for you-”

Nodding, Angel takes in the look of skepticism on her face.

“I got it.”

“And I’m not sleeping with you.”

Angel smiles, a chuckle escaping his lips. His hands innocently raise in the air.

“My intentions are pure, Ronnie,” he smiles. “I promise. I’ll keep my hands to myself, as long as you want.”

Placing his hand over his heart, Angel adds a “scout’s honor.”

“My dad will not let you inside of my house. So where are we doing this?”

“My place. I gotta keep an eye on my brother.”

“Fine. Eight o’clock tonight.” Turning back to her car, Veronica opens the door. She pauses. “It’s Veronica. Not Ronnie.”

After a quick shift at the diner, Veronica Vargas is standing in the center of the Reyes kitchen, a smile on her face.

In the time it took her to work her shift, get off and get to his house Angel has done a couple of things. He’s taken the time to shower, his dark locks still wet and curling. He’s changed into a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. He’s cleaned up the kitchen for once without his mother’s threats. He’s vacuumed the living room and cleaned the bathroom. He’s unnecessarily threatened his younger brother to be on his best behavior, and not to hint that Angel has a crush on Veronica. He’s also ordered two boxes of pizza, all while trying to ice his swollen right hand.

Veronica is opening a bottle of water as she watches Angel reach up to brush his damp curls back from his eyes.

“Alright, man.” Angel smiles as he passes Ezekiel, his hand reaching down to ruffle his younger brother’s hair. “You can watch more tv later once you finish your math homework. You know pop will kill me if that shits not done-”

“Already done.” Ezekiel’s words come out muffled through his mouthful of pepperoni. He rolls his eyes at the look of skepticism on Angel’s face. Tossing his math notebook across the table, Ezekiel continues eating his gaze drifting back to the tv across the room.

Angel stares down at it for a second.

“Did you check it?”

“No need too,” Ezekiel shrugs before taking a sip of his soda. “I can if it makes you feel better.”

The smile on Veronica’s face grows as she watches Angel shake his head.

“Whatever man, can we get the table? We’re gonna try and study for a test.”

Ezekiel excuses himself, swapping out his seat at the table for the sofa.

Sitting her backpack by the newly freed seat, Veronica glances up to find Angel watching her.

“You hungry?”

He motions toward the open box of pizza in front of him.

“I’m fine,” Veronica smiles, warily eyeing the pepperoni pizza. “But thank you.”

Angel takes note of her expression before moving to quickly close the pizza box.

“Shit-wrong box.” Dragging the second pizza box from underneath, he clears his throat. “You don’t eat meat right? I wasn’t sure what type of pizza vegetarians eat. So I uh…I just ordered a supreme. Swapped out the meat for more vegetables. I didn’t know if you liked everything that’s on it but-”

“It’s perfect.”

Taking in her smile, Angel nods before offering her plate.

It takes Angel thirty minutes to realize three important things about Veronica. Two of them are things Ricky didn’t seem to grasp in the year they dated.

1. She doesn’t think he’s stupid, but she will also not tell him the answer to a question no matter how much he flirts with her.

2. She doesn’t like her smile and covers it up almost instantly when he’s able to get her to laugh.

3. She has a really good poker face but plays with her hair when she’s nervous.

Despite his attempts to distract her with his humor, Veronica can keep Angel on track for two hours.

“You haven’t wrapped your hand?”

Blinking, Angel realizes from the look on Veronica’s face that it’s not the first time she has asked the question. Which means his staring at her has also not gone unnoticed.

Finishing the pizza crust in his mouth, Angel shrugs. He tosses the ice pack into the kitchen sink before shooting Veronica a smile.

“I tried,” he admits as he carries his glass towards the table. Dragging the seat alongside hers from beneath the table, he returns to his seat. “But, I couldn’t get it to stay.”

“Then why didn’t you just ask me to do it?”

Now that he thinks of it, Angel knows that would have been the smart thing to do. Veronica’s mother was a nurse at the local hospital. He shrugs in response, hoping she thinks it never crossed his mind. Not that he hadn’t asked her out of embarrassment. What athlete doesn’t know how to wrap his own hand?

“You have to wrap it, or it’ll be ten times worse when you wake up tomorrow,” Veronica huffs as she pushes her plate across the table. Retrieving the previously discarded pair of scissors, and athletic wrap from the center of the table, Veronica motions for Angel to drag his chair closer.

Carefully drying his swollen hand, Veronica’s brow furrows as she studies the damage. Most of the swelling has gone down. His skin is red, the knuckles already starting to bruise. Angel knows he needs to think of a story to tell his mother before she gets home.

Angel allows her to move his fingers, the sharp hiss he releases as she attempts to form a fist causing her eyes to shoot up to his face. Waving away her look of concern, he takes a sip of his soda.

“Are you taking that scholarship?”

Veronica’s brow arches. She lets her gaze briefly meet Angel’s before resting his damaged hand against the table.

“What do you know about that?” Veronica’s question leaves Angel silent. He shifts in his seat. He picks up his pencil and returns his focus to the set of notes he is meant to be copying. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Reyes?”

Angel’s smile grows at the sound of her giggle.

“You make it hard not to,” he quietly admits. Feeling as though his entire face is reddening beneath her gaze, Angel clears his throat. "No one was surprised that you got a scholarship. You’re...perfect compared to everyone else in our class.”

Veronica scoffs, the sound causing Angel to steal a glance in her direction. The light rolling of her eyes is followed by the furrowing of her brow.

“According to my mother, I am far from perfect. But, thank you.”

“I don’t know,” Angel chuckles. “If I got a scholarship offer from Stanford, my mom would probably die from a heart attack.”

“What about your dad?”

Angel shrugs at the question. The corner of his mouth turns up in a tiny smile.

“He’d probably call the school, check if it was a mistake.”

The halfhearted laugh that comes from Angel causes Veronica to pause her actions. She takes a moment to study his face before picking up the roll of bandages. Picking up his right hand, she carefully begins to wrap it.

“When I told my dad I wanted to study law, he laughed at me. Like, literally laughed. And not just a quick chuckle. A full, stomach clutching, nearly choked on his dinner type of laugh.”

Angel’s eyes lift from his work. The look of disbelief on his face pulls a giggle from Veronica’s lips. She nods. She waits until she has successfully finished wrapping Angel’s hand before continuing her story.

“I know,” she giggles. “Most lawyers would be excited, or proud, if their child, was crazy enough to follow in their footsteps. Not Eduardo Vargas. When he was finished laughing, my dad looked at my mom and said. See this is what is we get for you filling her head with that feminist, women can do anything psycho-babble. Sweetheart, I would hate for you to rack up student loan debt only to get out into the real world and find female lawyers never make it. Unless you want to be a divorce lawyer, and I raised you not to settle. Why not be a nurse, like your mother?”

Veronica’s admission is news to Angel. Her father is the most respected lawyer in Southern California. Angel always assumed that she was expected to follow in her father’s footsteps. Her younger sister, who was more focused on cheerleading and popularity, definitely was not going to be the one to take over the family business. Every time Angel saw her family, it appeared as though Veronica was the apple of her father’s eye. He often found himself thinking that her father looked at Veronica, the same way his father looked at Ezekiel. His gaze was always full of nothing but pride.

Learning that the highest ambition Eduardo Vargas had for his brightest daughter was nursing school shocked Angel.

Veronica could see the thoughts washing across Angel’s face. She knew what he was thinking. She also knew what question was forming in his mind, and that she didn’t have an answer for it. So, she decides to change the subject.

“So…earlier, at school, you mentioned college. What schools are you looking at?”

Angel shakes his head. Tapping his pencil against the kitchen table, he gives up focusing on the paper before him. Resting back in his seat, he watches as Veronica rests her chin in the palm of her hand.

"I'm...college isn't really on the table for me. I kinda always knew that. I'll probably just get a job down at-Shit!”

Angel reaches up, wincing as he massages the part of his arm that Veronica has just punched. “What was that for?”

“I just poured out one of my deepest darkest secrets to you-”

“Did you?”

Ignoring his rolling eyes, Veronica smiles as Angel continues to massage his arm.

“I did, and I don’t do that often. So, please, Reyes don’t sit here and give me some bullshit lie because you’re too macho to share your feelings with me.”

“I’m not-” Angel releases a sigh, his hand running over his face before falling back to the table. “I don’t believe people like me are meant to get out of Santo Padre.”

“People like you?”

“I’m not as smart as you-”

"Sure you are.” Veronica takes note of the skepticism molding Angel’s face. “Seriously. You do not need straight A’s to be smart, Angel. Sure, I know things that you don’t. But, you’re also really good at things that I suck at.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when you’re not being a self-centered jerk, you’re nice to people that jocks are never supposed to be nice too." The smile that spreads across Angel’s lips brings one to Veronica’s. “You’re friends with everyone. It’s kind of annoying if I’m being honest. It’s like you have this way of figuring out something that makes them laugh, or smile, and you remember it. You’re really good at making people like you. I don’t make friends easily, but you make it look so easy.”

"I must not be that great at it,” Angel smiles softly. “I’m still working on you.”

Veronica smiles before lightly rolling her eyes.

"I’m trying to give you a compliment, Reyes. Don’t make me take it back.”

For a moment, the two simply stared at each other. The smile that the two teens share leaving a warmth across Veronica’s skin that she’s never experienced before.

“U.C. Davis.”

“Huh?” Veronica blinks, heat rushing to her cheeks as she watches Angel return his attention to the notes he is meant to copy.

Angel begins writing.

“You asked what college I was looking at. Coach says a scout is coming to the homecoming game.”

Veronica’s eyes widen as she lets Angel’s words sink in.

The homecoming game was the biggest sporting event of the school year. The entire town comes out for the game. Each year, Santo Padre Regional High School was scheduled to play against their rival. Their rivals were the best in the state, and each year Angel’s team always remained undefeated until the homecoming game.

“There’s going to be a scout?”

“Yeah, but as of right now I’m benched. Coach lets me practice, but he’s been working with our second string QB a lot lately. Just in case...”

Veronica nods in understanding.

“In case you don’t pass your midterms.”

“At least Ricky will get to play,” Angel smiles. “Pretty sure he’s looking to use it as an excuse to win you back.”

“That won’t happen.” Now it is Veronica’s turn to smile. “Because I’m going to make sure you pass your midterms.”

Angel shifts in his seat, his eyes briefly meeting hers.

“We’ll see...That’s why mom has been stressed out. She hasn’t told my pops yet. I think she’s tryna spare me another one of his ‘I told you so.’ He’s not a big fan of me trying to play ball...doesn’t think it’ll end me up anywhere. I don’t blame him though. How many of us make it outta Santo Padre on a football scholarship?”

“There always has to be a first.”

Veronica looks up from her textbook to find Angel’s eyes on her. The smile on his face causes her brow to furrow.

“What?”

“My mom would like you.”

A giggle escapes Veronica’s lips as she returns her eyes to her textbook.

“Is that a line you use on all the girls you invite over?”

“Hell no,” Angle chuckles. “I never introduce the girls I invite over to my mom. She has high expectations for her baby boy.”

“As she should.”

"What about you?”

“Oh, I definitely can’t take you home,” Veronica teases. “One look at you, and my dad will definitely have a heart attack. He can’t have anyone corrupting his baby girl.”

Angel’s laugh mingles with hers, the sight of the grin on his face causing her to bite her lip.

“But seriously...something must be stopping you from taking that scholarship to Stanford.”

Veronica’s fingers lift to her hair. She absentmindedly begins to toy with the ends. She takes a deep breath. Releasing the breath she is holding, she meets Angel’s gaze.

“I haven’t told anyone yet, but...I may have applied to Oxford University?”

Angel’s brow rises. “Where’s that?”

“Oxford, England. I just…figured there aren’t many people who look like us out there." Veronica finds her words picking up as Angel’s gaze remains steady on her. She finds his expression unreadable, but feel as though he can read hers easily. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s just. Everyone in my family is from here. They are born here. And sure, they go away to great schools, but they always come back and die here. More than half of my family has never even left California. My sister doesn’t think that there’s life outside of Santo Padre. I don’t want to be like that.”

“So...you’re getting a shit ton of student loans to fly to England for a few months every year? Wouldn’t it be easier to take a trip during the summer?”

Veronica laughs quietly before giving Angel a smile.

“You sound like my mom.”

"Naw, I’m just messin’ with you. I get it,” he sighs. “Besides, what’s the point in having a perfect high school record if you don’t go to the school you want?”

They’re both quiet for a moment.

Angel lifts his bandaged hand and examines it in the light. His eyes shift to Veronica’s face as she takes his hand in hers.

“I’m sorry you busted your throwing hand over a stupid fight.”

Angel lets off a soft shrug, his eyes steady on their hands.

“It should be fine by homecoming. Besides, I never liked Ricky anyway.”

“Well, I think UC Davis is a great school." Veronica smiles. “I’m not an expert in football. I mean I don’t really understand anything other than what a touchdown is, but I think you’re really good. And if that’s what gets you into college, Angel, that’s great. It means a lot that you’re actually trying to get your grades up. Colleges take note of that. Just don’t go punching anyone else, okay? At least not until after the homecoming game.”

The wink she sends his way as she releases his hand brings a grin to Angel’s face.

“Thanks for helping me.”

“It’s no problem,” Veronica waves. The sound of her phone buzzing in her backpack pulls her attention away from him. “If you want I can also help with any other applications or essays that you may have left for your back up schools.”

“You don’t have to.”

"It's kinda second nature for me. My parents have been prepping me for college since I could speak.”

Angel watches her as she rummages through her bag in search of her phone. She is too busy checking the message from her mother to notice the look on his face. If she’d seen it, she would’ve figured out that it probably took everything Angel had not to lean over and kiss her right then and there.

“I could pay you-”

Veronica giggles, the action furrowing his brow.

She responds to her mother before looking up at Angel.

“You don’t have to pay me, Angel. Seriously.” She gets up from her seat and begins packing up her backpack. “All I ask is that you feed me during our sessions.”

“Okay.” Angel smiles as she zips up her bag.

“I have to go. Ten thirty curfew. If I’m late, even by two seconds, my dad will have the police kicking down your door.”

“I thought you didn’t tell him you were coming here.”

“Trust me, he’d find me somehow.”

When Veronica slings her backpack over her shoulder she briefly pauses at the sight of Angel standing up. Hastily clearing the table, he shoots her a glance taking note of her raised eyebrow.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

“You don’t need you to do that. It’s just across the street.”

“Exactly,” Angel smiles. “So it won’t take that long. It’s ten o’clock. It’s too dark for you to walk alone.”

“Okay.” Nodding, Veronica lifts her hand to wave to Ezekiel who is lounging on the sofa, a book in his hand. “See you around, Ez.”

He lifts his hand to wave, his gaze moving to his brother. He waits until Veronica has stepped onto the porch to speak.

“Mom said you can’t leave me home alone.” Ezekiel teases.

Angel pauses in the doorway as he tugs his hoodie over his head. Facing his younger brother, Angel takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, I know. Technically I’m not leaving you home alone. I’m gonna be at the end of the driveway.” A mischievous grin spreads across the young boy’s face as his mouth opens in response. Before he can get out his words, Angel has the front door open. “Ez, just stay here.”

Angel leads Veronica down the front steps. Neither of them speaks until they reach the front gate. Veronica bites her lip before taking a deep breath.

“Look, I’m sorry for earlier.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?”

“I said some pretty mean things to you earlier at school. I was just pissed about Ricky. It wasn’t your fault.” Veronica glances over, the soft smile on Angel’s lips growing as he digs his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “What? Usually, when someone apologizes, the response is thank you.”

“You weren’t mean.” Angel chuckles, the look of confusion on Veronica's face causing him to stop. “Not compared to what I said. Besides, I’ve heard worse things.”

Angel unlocks the gate, pushing it open to allow her the chance to step through. But Veronica remains where she is.

“So...I was thinking we could try an hour every day after school, and on Saturday. Sundays I have church, and my parents will not let me miss that.”

“Okay.”

Taking a step through the gate, Veronica turns back around to face Angel.

“Also, you were having trouble with questions ten and twelve on your Calculus homework. I had Benson for Pre-Calc. She always over explains everything. I wouldn’t try and do it the way she says in class. Just look back over chapter 6. I believe it's pages…” Veronica trails off as a smile spreads across Angel’s lips. Although he has been staring at her as she speaks, the look on his face tells her he wasn’t listening to what she was saying.

He blinks, his eyes dropping for a moment to where his hands rest on the now-closed gate.

Shaking her head, she rummages through her bag for a pen. Taking his hand in her, she writes her number across the skin of his palm.

“Just call me in case you forget?”

Angel nodded, watching as she smiles before taking a step back. She turns, looks both ways and crosses the street towards her car.

“You never told me what you want for helping me study.” He calls after her. “And supplying food for study sessions, that doesn’t count.”

Veronica shrugs. Retrieving her keys from her bag, she smiles.

“That’s because I don’t want anything.”

Angel studies Veronica’s eyes. Even under the dim street lamps, he knows that they are honest. He’s not surprised. Veronica has a reputation for helping others, but that doesn’t stop Angel from pressing forward.

“I can get you into Parker’s Halloween party this Saturday.”

Veronica instantly shakes her head, her gaze leaving Angel’s. Parker hosted a Halloween party every year, since freshman year. It was outside of Santo Padre. His parents owned a house bigger than one Angel could ever afford in his lifetime. It was always the party of the school year. Veronica has never been.

“No, thank you...I don’t really do parties.” Veronica backtracks. Beneath Angel’s gaze, she feels the need to explain herself. Yet again. “And by “I don’t really do parties,” I mean I’ve never gone to one-I mean-I’ve been to a party before, obviously, but not this type of party-”

“That’s why I’ll take you,” Angel smiles. “Show you the ropes. Teach you beer pong, and how to dance to shitty music. Protect you from drunk guys that want to hit on you.”

“As much fun as that sounds. No thank you.”

“Come on, Ronnie, you just got me to study the longest I’ve ever studied in my entire life.” Angel chuckles as he pulls back against the fence, his weight rolling to the back of his heels. His eyes look up to the sky. “Stop being impossible, and let me return the favor. Besides I’m not letting you go to college never having been to a party.”

Veronica bites her lips, shifting her weight between her feet as Angel’s gaze returns to hers.

“What?” He smiles.

“Pass your weekly quiz this Friday in Benson’s class. And I’ll go. And by pass I mean, at least a 75 percent.”

The grin that spreads across Angel’s face is full of confidence. It also brings a smile to Veronica’s lips. Usually, Angel wouldn’t dream of starting to study for a Friday quiz on a Monday night. He’s more a study the period before kind of guy. But he also wouldn’t dream of passing up a chance to take Veronica Vargas to a party.

I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“You better start looking for a costume, Ronnie.” Angel smiles as he takes a step back from the fence.

“Okay,” Veronica giggles. “You better start studying.”

Veronica is fully buckled in and just about to pull off when she realizes Angel has changed his path. Instead of heading back inside, he has stepped into the street.

She watches as he crosses the street and heads towards her car.

Rolling down the window, she waits until he stops at the door to speak.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just, earlier when you were apologizing...I wanted to say something, but I didn’t.” Resting his arms against her car, Angel watches as her eyes search his face before meeting his. Her brow furrows in confusion. “I’m sorry for what I said to you at school.”

“You already said that,” Veronica smiles softly. “It’s okay.”

“I also wanted to say that you don’t have to apologize for standing up for yourself.”

“Okay.”

Veronica response is the only word that her brain is able to formulate at the moment. Because the rest of her mind is flooded with the features of Angel Reyes. The features she has spent the entire night trying not to focus on while she sat less than a foot away from him in his kitchen. The features she is trying not to realize are less than a few inches away from her own at this very moment. She watches his hooded eyes drop down to her lips. Her mind realizing that if he pushes himself forward he can easily kiss her.

When she doesn’t say anything else, she is almost certain he is going to kiss her.

Before she can give him the chance, Veronica reaches down her finger tugging at the button for the driver’s side window.

Angel quickly removes his arms from the windowpane and takes a step back.

“I’m sorry!” She calls, the now completely risen window muffling her voice. “I really have to get home. I have a-”

“Ten thirty curfew,” Angel smiles as he takes a step back towards the house.

“Yeah.”

Despite the heat on her face, Veronica smiles as Angel lifts his bandaged hand to wave. He laughs, softly shaking his head.

“See you tomorrow, Ronnie.”

#let me know what you think?#santiago segura #sarah jeffery #clayton cardenas #young!Mayans #angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fanfic #maggie vera #imagines #Mayans MC #mayans imagines #mayans mc fic #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes

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glassc0ffin · 5 years

Text

Spreading

frankie has a haunted tattoo its pretty neat. another transcript fic

pairing: oc (frankie james)/jonathan sims

words: 2049

warnings: yearning

[CLICK]

FRANKIE JAMES:

Oh, I've missed that tape recorder. I still haven't got one, y'know.

ARCHIVIST:

There are some spares around somewhere, I could try and get one for you. I-If you wanted.

JAMES:

You'd do that? ...What if you get in trouble?

ARCHIVIST:

With what's going on around here, I doubt anyone would notice one missing tape recorder. But, I digress. What are you doing back here? I thought the voices had stopped.

JAMES:

Well… They did, after a while. Thanks for looking into that, by the way. I was a nervous wreck for a good while, there.

ARCHIVIST:

It was no problem. I'm glad you're doing at least a bit better.

[PAUSE]

You are doing better?

JAMES:

I mean, I thought I was. Up until –

ARCHIVIST:

Wait, I-I should –

JAMES:

Oh, yeah, go ahead.

ARCHIVIST:

Statement of Frankie James, radio DJ at Tranzishon Rock, London, regarding?

JAMES:

A tattoo I got recently.

ARCHIVIST:

Recorded direct from subject by Jonathan Sims, head archivist of The Magnus Institute, 5th of October, 2019. Statement begins.

[PAUSE]

A tattoo? Would you mind showing me?

JAMES:

I - Okay, it's a little… Complicated. A couple of days after I saw you the first time, I decided to treat myself, seeing as I felt like shit – Don't worry, I'll show you in a little bit, I just need to explain something first – and I texted my tattooist, Sarah, if she had any appointments soon. She said no, that she was booked up until Christmas, but that she had an apprentice in who could do something quick for me. And I thought, well, I trust Sarah, she wouldn't let some newbie who's never held a tattoo gun before into her studio. That, and I kind of wanted to be a learning experience. There's something about being a living canvas for someone that's a little appealing.

ARCHIVIST:

[SIGHS] I'm not quite sure I relate, but go on.

JAMES:

She books me in for a session a couple of days later. I had my heart set on a space sleeve, with stars and planets and stuff, and a supernova exploding on my elbow. I had come into a little bit of money recently so instead of doing the responsible thing, like paying my rent, I wanted to spend a ridiculous amount of money on myself. I commissioned a friend to design the sleeve and went to Sarah's with it.

ARCHIVIST:

It sounds beautiful.

JAMES:

[QUIETLY] I can think of something more beautiful.

ARCHIVIST:

Hmm?

JAMES:

I-Er, nothing, don't worry. [WHISPERED] Shit.

[PAUSE] So, yeah, the tattoo. The newbie, I learned his name was Jimmy, transferred it onto my arm and started work. Funnily enough, we got off on the same foot as you and I.

ARCHIVIST:

Really? How so?

JAMES:

Y'know how I was obsessing over your tape recorder because of how cute and vintage it is? He had an antique tattoo gun he was using on me, paddle-operated and everything, it was really cool! He was as enthusiastic about it as I was, he said that he got it from a fancy vintage place. I can't remember what it was called but he said the bloke running it was called...Salesa? I think?

ARCHIVIST:

...I see.

JAMES:

Anyway, it hurt a lot more than I was expecting. I just put it down to the gun being old and that was just what people used to have to deal with. I remember thinking I hope that gun's passed some safety checks. I mean, it wasn't rusty or anything, but I didn't want it to just fall apart while it was still stabbing me and fuck up my tattoo. Wait, am I allowed to swear?

ARCHIVIST:

I-It's not against regulations, as such. I'm not going to tell you off, anyway.

JAMES:

Aw, thank you. I'm not really a bleeder when I get tattoos, I have enough now to know what to expect, but with this one, i-it was like I had anemia or something. Every half hour we had to stop so I could eat something or I'd feel like passing out. Eventually, after 3 hours, I hit my limit. I was getting light headed and kind of annoyed, so I told Jimmy I'd be back in a week or so to finish it off. It was only from my elbow and down to my wrist, he hadn't even started on my upper arm yet.

After that, I went straight back home - I had moved back there since the voices had stopped by then, don't know why they did but I'm thankful anyway - and collapsed onto my bed clutching my arm. It was already hot and swollen, trying to heal already. There was some cling film put over it and bandages. I soaked right through them overnight and onto my bedsheets. The next morning I could barely extend my arm. It was twice the size of the other and just oozing yucky stuff. It probably wasn't the best idea for an open wound, but like everyone does when they have an open wound, I stuck it under the cold tap. It was only then, in the harsh light of my bathroom, that I saw my tattoo properly that morning.

There was a planet in the blackness of inked space that wasn't there before. I'm sure of it. It's not even in the original design. It was ringed, like Saturn. I even tried rubbing it off my skin but that just made it bleed more. It was way too early in the morning for me to deal with that shit, so I just wrapped it in some new bandages and went out to get food. It was aching the whole time I was out, and when I rolled up my jacket sleeves I saw I had leaked through the bandage again, and through my shirt.

It hurt. It hurt so much. More than any of my other tattoos healing. But again, I just thought it was that old tattoo gun, and because I hadn't protested when Jimmy brought it out, it was my own fault. My own stupid fault that I'd probably have to get my arm amputated because I caught fucking gangrene off an antique tattoo gun.

I just resigned myself to cleaning it again when I got home. In fact, I ran a bath. And as I took my shirt off I looked in the mirror, and the tattoo had gotten bigger. I swear. We had stopped at the elbow, I promise, but it was at least an inch higher than that before, all the way around my arm. In fact, the new area was sore to touch, as if it had just been tattooed on, where the area at my wrist had already started to scab.

And as another day passed, the tattoo grew, and I cleaned it. And another day. And another. And now I'm here. Again.

ARCHIVIST:

Statement ends. Will you show me? The tattoo I mean?

JAMES:

Ah, sure. [CLOTHES RUSTLING] There. Careful, that part only appeared this morning.

ARCHIVIST:

[GASPS] I-I see what you mean… Frankie, I-I don't think you - uh - needed to take your whole shirt off...Wait a minute.

JAMES:

What? What is it?

ARCHIVIST:

It's on your back as well, here…

JAMES:

[SHARP BREATH INTAKE]

ARCHIVIST:

Sorry! I didn't mean to poke you.

JAMES:

No - you didn't hurt me, it's just - your hands are so cold! [LAUGHS, NERVOUS]

ARCHIVIST:

Jesus...I-It's moving!

JAMES:

WHAT?

ARCHIVIST:

The - That planet is spinning! The stars, they're twinkling as well!

JAMES:

FUCK, dude, WHAT?

ARCHIVIST:

Frankie, you can't go home like this. Your skin is raw, I don't know how you're dealing with this…

JAMES:

I'm not. Painkillers, mostly. I…try not to think about it.

ARCHIVIST:

We have some medics here who can help you, we can keep an eye on you, on that tattoo. And track down the man who sold your friend that gun.

JAMES:

I, er, need some stuff from my flat.

ARCHIVIST:

[SOFTLY] If you'd like, I can come with you to help. I doubt you'd be able to lift much with your arm in that state.

JAMES:

Thank you… Why are you doing this?

ARCHIVIST:

What do you mean?

JAMES:

Well, don't you have assistants and stuff to deal with this crap? You don't do this with every person who gives a statement, right?

ARCHIVIST:

You're right. I don't. [PAUSES] You're different.

JAMES:

I-I am?

ARCHIVIST:

Yes...You're the first person I've ever met who is evidence of their statement, living, breathing, evidence that you weren't lying. And if I'm being honest, it's fascinating.

JAMES:

[NERVOUS LAUGHTER] Thanks, I think… Can I put my shirt back on now?

ARCHIVIST:

Oh, yes, o-of course. I can turn around if you want.

JAMES:

What's the point? You've just seen my boobs, seeing them covered isn't really going to make a difference.

ARCHIVIST:

[UNDER HIS BREATH] Good lord. [COUGHS] Yes, quite. Oh, er, recording ends.

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST:

Are you feeling any better today?

JAMES:

Not really. Still hurts. Thanks for asking, though.

ARCHIVIST:

I’ll see about getting you some painkillers. Would you mind showing me how far it’s progressed? I need to get it recorded.

JAMES:

Yeah, just… Gimme a second. It’s a little hard to move my arm now.

ARCHIVIST:

I can help. I-If you want.

JAMES:

...Yeah. Yeah, okay. [CLOTHES RUSTLING] Ow!

ARCHIVIST:

Sorry! Sorry. Was that part new?

JAMES:

I think so. It’s all a bit sore.

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, I can see. Your skin is red around the edges of the thing. Hold on, let me put some gloves on. [STRETCHY ELASTIC NOISES]

JAMES:

So you want me to bend over and cough, doc?

ARCHIVIST:

[SNORTS] Stop, I need to be delicate. I can’t do that if you’re giving me the giggles. Oh, let me - [COUGHS] Supplement of Statement #421904, recorded on the 6th of October, 2019, examining the tattoo of Frankie James, given to him from a gun sold by Mikaele Salesa. Statement begins.

JAMES:

Your hands are still deathly cold.

ARCHIVIST:

Sorry about that. Tattoo originally started at the wrist of the subject, and ended at the elbow. Today, approximately one week after the initial application, it has extended over the subjects hand, up his arm, and is currently spilling onto his chest and back. The tattoo is of a galaxy, with a number of planets and stars dotted about. On the subject’s elbow is a supernova exploding.

JAMES:

That part hurt the most.

ARCHIVIST:

I can imagine. Originally, the tattoo only had four planets and six stars, all located on the forearm, but as of today, the number has increased to eight planets and [COUNTING UNDER HIS BREATH] fifteen stars. It also appears to...move...at times, the stars seem to twinkle, and the planets spin on their axis. [BREATHES OUT] Very unusual.

JAMES:

That’s an understatement.

ARCHIVIST:

I’m just going to take some photos, if that’s alright?

JAMES:

Yeah, just get my good side.

ARCHIVIST:

[LAUGHS] You don’t have a bad side. [PAUSE] [CAMERA SHUTTERS 5 TIMES] There. That should be all I need for now. You can pop your shirt back on.

JAMES:

Can I just leave it off? It really hurts and having to peel it off again later to clean it will just hurt even more.

ARCHIVIST:

A-Alright. I’ll see you in a bit, Frankie.

JAMES:

Jon, wait.

ARCHIVIST:

Hmm? What’s wrong?

JAMES:

Nothing, I just… Thanks for helping me bring some stuff over here. You didn’t have to do that.

ARCHIVIST:

I wanted to help. Frankie, when you came in, you looked terrified. I was...very worried for you.

JAMES:

[NERVOUS LAUGHTER] Shit, I thought I was hiding it better. Okay, but, surely everyone that comes in to give a statement is going to be bricking it?

ARCHIVIST:

Well, like I said before, you’re fascinating. [PAUSE] It! It’s fascinating, your tattoo, it’s -

JAMES:

[SNORTS]

ARCHIVIST:

Not to say that you’re not fascinating, I-I- [SIGHS] I should leave, before I make an even bigger fool of myself.

JAMES:

Bye, Jon. You’re not too bad, yourself.

ARCHIVIST:

R-Right. Thanks. Goodbye.

JAMES:

Jon, wait! [PAUSE] And there he goes. I guess I’ll end this myself, then. Shit, I hope I don’t break it somehow. Erm, statement ends?

#self shipping #selfshipping #fics #my writing #boy i hope the formatting doesnt fuck up #i wrote this a couple days ago btw i just forgot to post it #frankie #📖

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thorsdiana · 5 years

Note

Tell me aaaaaall about Sofya, Helena, Valerie, and Kiara. Put it under a cut if you have to!! I want all the tea!!!

ahhh i love you so much jen!!! you really came through for me 💖💖 okay this is gonna get hella long so i’m gonna put my answers under the cut bc there’s just so much i gotta say!!

SOFYA VOLKOVA

so here’s the tea on sofya volkova! her story is called “budapest” she’s paired up with my queen, natasha romanoff. and her story is full of sadness lol. on new years day in 1937 (aka her 9th birthday), her parents who were well respected scientists for the soviet union were killed in her home and she witnessed their death. she was later taken in by a name named viktor grankin, who encouraged her to join the red room academy under the idea that she could one day get revenge for her parents’ death. it’s during this time that she meets natalia romanova, and the two often clashed that lasted nearly a decade. but they eventually came to respect one another as assassins and eventually led to a relationship that remained hidden from their handlers.

viktor grankin was her handler during her time and he set her on missions that they believed would lead her to her parents’ killer. she would later earn the alias “sparrow” which was given to her by viktor himself. during one mission, she learned that the man behind her parents’ death was none other than viktor. she tried to take him out but failed, but she faked her death (also ending her relationship with natasha) and remained in hiding as she worked up a plan to ruin viktor and kill him.

she was inspired by the infamous line in the avengers where natasha and clint mention budapest. and since we don’t know what happens, i decided to make sofya and she’s the budapest mission lol. basically clint and natasha get word of a dangerous assassin that they’re meant to take out, and nat is SHOOK bc her old girlfriend is alive and well but also dead set on killing viktor (who basically was given something similar to natasha and sofya).

her story is so sad bc she’s lost so much and was used by viktor for 21 years. and in order to get her revenge, she had to leave the only person she’s loved since her parents??? and now she’s like a stranger in natasha’s eyes but natasha doesn’t want to lose her again?? i love angst lol!!

HELENA HARTLEY

here’s the tea on my mom, helena hartley! her story is called “second chances”. so’s a revived oc of mine from yeeears ago and i think i love her a lot more now than i did before lol. but she’s the ex-girlfriend of tony stark and the mother of the beautiful lauren stark. she met tony back in 1990 at a science convention and she honestly couldn’t stand him but he always flirted with her and it was cute as heck. they clashed a lot on ideas but they also really enjoyed the bickering?? and formed an interesting friendship. but after the death of tony’s parents, helena was always there for him and something more bloomed.

tony didn’t admit his feelings until like 1992. tony was always supportive of helena’s dreams of being an engineer and even got her a job at stark industries. their relationship resulted in the birth of their daughter in 2001, but they never got married. there were also a LOT of cute dad!tony moments like he spoiled lauren to the point where her only way to sleep was on someone’s chest and listening to their heartbeat. or he loved mentioning her whenever he could during an interview bc he was so proud!!

but tony was prone to self-desctruction and it put a strain on their relationship that eventually ended in 2005. but despite their breakup, they always made sure lauren wasn’t too negatively affected and remained coordial for her sake. helena left stark industries and became an engineer at northrop grumman. but when tony needs help making the jericho missile, the first person he wants on his team is helena (but honestly it’s partially bc he misses her and is still in love with her).

their story is gonna be filled with angst (especially during the iron man movies) bc helena is trying to date other men but tony keeps finding his way back into her life, then tony goes missing and it messes up helena AND lauren (who’s like really young during this time so OW) and then when tony becomes iron man and how lauren is constantly worried about her dad.

i’ve also planned to have helena being an inhuman but it doesn’t get found out until later. and her power was going to be technology manipulation bc i didn’t want her to be a full on hero but have something a little different.

VALERIE BYERS

um so i really love my time traveling bby girl!! she’s one of the three main characters of my fic, “timeless,” and the other main characters are my cyborg bby boy jai graham (who was created by the queen shuri herself) and sarah wilson, who’s the younger sister of sam wilson. so valerie is the only child of tony stark and her mother was an old girlfriend of his named susan byers. their relationship was never liked among susan’s parents and though it ended, susan found out that she was pregnant but never told tony. in fact, valerie never found out about tony being her father until she was 15.

valerie would try to find ways to meet tony, such as going to different conventions he held or was a guest at. but after the battle of new york, she realized how much she needed her father. her mom was paralyzed during the event and it wasn’t until valerie was 20 when susan finally passed. valerie then made it her business to get a job at stark industries, which she luckily did. she would work under tony, but never tell him the fact that she was his daughter.

but due to the events of infinity war, and tony is believed to have died after last being seen going into space, and the avengers fail to save the world from thanos, valerie’s life goes to shit.

since “timeless” is basically one big au and my own spin on infinity war, thanos actually takes control of earth after the big snap and the chitauri still roam earth. it’s kinda like an apocalyptic setting and humans aren’t as free to do much and the chitauri controls a lot of what happens???

but anyway, valerie meets jai and sarah when she’s out looking for scraps to build stuff and jai and sarah and they come up with the idea fo build a time machine and valerie is the perfect brain needed for the job to help create it. their plan is to go back to different points in time to assist the avengers and stop them from breaking up (bc they believe them being apart was a downfall) and try to find the infinity stones and destroy them so thanos can’t get his hands on them.

and they all lost something in the war; valerie lost her father, jai lost his creator/mother (he really never got to meet her bc she died and her last thing she did was setting him free), and sarah lost her brother who turned to ash. but one happy thing is that valerie is paired up with jai but they’re gonna be hella cute and make s.carlet.vision look like nothing compared to them lmaoo.

KIARA WILLIAMS

finally, we have my pretty bird kiara! her story is “icarus” and i created her maybe a year or two ago??? she was inspired by the line where sam mentions wanting to impress the lady who worked at the va, and kiara is that lady!! she’s got a younger sister named layla and kiara is also an inhuman (the mcu has ignored them and i love them so i gotta include them lol). her father, raymond, is also an inhuman and he brought her to afterlife where she got the help after going through terrigenesis in her early teen years and gained the power of wing manifestation. when she finally returned to society, her relationship with layla was strained, but they’ve been working hard on fixing it.

she tried her best to live a normal life, getting a job as a receptionist at the va in washington dc and eventually meeting sam wilson (who she’d admire from a distance lol). but when steve rogers comes in and plays a wingman for sam, they start to become friends that eventually leads to something more.

kiara eventually becomes an avenger and gains the alias “icarus” thanks to a cute interaction she had with sam years prior. basically when it was believed that shield attacked afterlife (which kiara just so happened to be at the moment) kiara was hit in the line of fire and barely made it out with her life and it’s that day when sam finds out about her being an inhuman and her powers. he’s really sweet and helps her heal and he makes a joke saying “i guess icarus flew too close to the sun” and it’s just been her nickname ever since.

#sent a raven #valerie byers #sofya volkova #kiara williams #helena hartley #bless u for coming thru with this ask!!!#i love gushing about my ocs so much!!#jen tag

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nerdie-faerie · 5 years

Text

The Scars of the Pandorica - Prologue.

Another day of school, another day of being human. The whole process fascinated her. An institution specifically designed for training the future generations. Incredible.

She was about to tug her school shirt over shoulders, eager for another day of learning, when something caught her eye in the mirror. Her arms went limp at her sides as she crept towards the mirror, her shirt trailing from her arms.

There on her shoulder was a perfectly healed silvery scar that reminded her of a cracked wall. Her finger trailed the mark curiously. She yelped and wrenched her hand back as she looked at her now pink flesh. It'd burnt her.

"Sarah-Jane!" She called through the house, her voice sounding panicked to her own ears. New experiences usually excited her, but for some reason she was filled with dread.

The woman in question stepped through the door looking flustered at the sudden summon.

"What is it, Sky?"

"Look!" She pointed sharply at the sudden addition to her shoulder.

"It's a scar. Where did you get that?" Her hand immediately outstretched as if hypnotised.

"No, don-" It was too late.

Sarah-Jane hissed as the scar burnt her too.

"What is it?" Sky asked in a trembling voice.

"I don't know."

-=-=-=-

She woke to find the rising sun shining directly into her eyes and with crick in her neck. Looks like she'd fallen asleep at her desk again without closing any blinds. She sighs, but reluctantly pulls herself up, her joints cracking as she does so. Her eyes flicker over the pictures of her and husband as she stands, unwilling to linger but unable to let go.

By the time she's walked to the bathroom the ache in her neck is gone, she supposed there were some advantages to her improved healing. She ruffles her golden locks with a yawn and sets about brushing her teeth.

As she lifts her head she notices something peaking out of the strap of her vest. Her eyebrows furrow as she pushed the strap out of the way and brushes her hair over her shoulder to take a closer look. But even after two centuries her enhanced eye sight has not diminished and she should know better than to question herself by now. But there it is. A scar etched into her right shoulder, puckered and pale but by no means new. And she knows for a fact it wasn't there last night. Two fingers trace the edge of the scar, as thoughts whirl through her brain. What was it? Why hadn't it healed? Where had it come from? Her train of thought is cut abruptly off when her fingers come away burnt.

She stares down at the reddened skin and then back to the reflection of the scar.

"What the hell are you?"

The scar stares back but provides no answers.

-=-=-=-

The six year old stared resolutely at his drawing determined to make it perfect, he had his mother's stubbornness and his father's need to prove people wrong. The navy blue made grand sweeping strokes across the paper as his left hand came up to scratch at his shoulder. He whimpered as the pain persisted.

He dropped his pencil as he continued to rub at his shoulder. He could hear his father working on the car from the garage and his mother pottering around preparing lunch in the kitchen.

"Mummy!"

"What is it, Malcom sweetie?" She strolled into the living room, her walk unhurried but her eyes darting around trying to find the cause of his distress.

"My shoulder hurts." He pouts.

She smiles kindly.

"Let me see. Which one is it?"

He points at the offended shoulder as she crouches down to take a look. She rolls up his t-shirt sleeve to see a thin scar about two inches long nestled against the crook of his shoulder. Her expression immediately betrays her concern years of medical training suddenly winning out. She presses a finger gently against the skin but is shocked when it burns her.

Malcom looks between his mother and his shoulder worried. She smiles reassuringly at him.

"Wait here a second."

She walks into the kitchen and opens the back door.

"Mickey!"

The man jogs into the kitchen moments later a sense of urgency in his step and streaks of motor oil streaking his face.

"What's wrong babe?" He asks cleaning his hands in a rag.

She whispers to him, far too quietly for Malcom to hear, but they're eyes flicker to him occasionally. Once she quiets his dad steps towards him to look at his son's shoulder for himself. He sighs and rubs at his brow, streaking more oil across his face.

"Where's the Doctor when you need him?"

-=-=-=-

Astrid Peth could think of far more glamorous jobs than pulling pints in a grimy pub, but it put food on the table even if it wasn't much.

She pulled off her apron and signalled to her boss to let him know she was taking her break, he nodded in affirmation and she slipped into the back room. She splashed cold water on her face in an attempt to wash away the feel of lingering eyes, as usual it did nothing. Sighing she grabbed one of the rough paper towel provided and started to dry her hands when she noticed in the cracked and rusted mirror that the water had soaked into part of her thin white shirt.

Sighing once more she began to dab at the fabric but pulled away when it felt far too warm. Confusion etched into her face she pulled down the collar of her shirt to see an unfamiliar scar carved into the flesh there. She felt panic spike through at the perfectly healed mark that hadn't been there this morning. She gulped as a wave of foreboding crashed into her. Something was very, very wrong.

-=-=-=-

Doctor Owen Harper questions his life choices on the regular. Among those where the decision to wrack up an enormous student debt for the sake of becoming a doctor. Things he doesn't regret, include the blonde he took home last night when drunk off his ass, that now lays slumbering in his bed.

He pads into the kitchen to make breakfast. The bacon was sizzling in the pan when he turns to the fridge to grab some eggs. He almost ignores the reflection of his nude body in the fridge's shiny surface, the littering of love bites was nothing new but the pale scar that decorated his right shoulder was.

Years of medical training flew out the window as he poked at the offending area in shock. The burn he received came as an additional shock.

"What the fuck did I do last night?" Be muttered to himself in the empty kitchen, suddenly questioning his bed partner.

-=-=-=-

A run always did wonders for her mood first thing in the morning, it helped set the tone for the whole day or some philosophical shit like that. But she'd promised her sister they'd go see a movie today and she was nowhere near ready in her current state. Determined to be on time for once, she hopped into the shower letting the slewth of cool water calm her frantic heart from a good day's running.

Towel clad, she stepped back into her room moments later to get dressed. Jeans, underwear and a tank top later and she was ready. As she pulled down her tank top however, her figures grazed against her shoulder causing her to yelp in pain.

"What the...." She rushed to her bathroom and cleared the fogged up glass trying to see the cause of her pain.

She prodded blindly at her slowly warming skin and when she jabbed at the raised, jagged skin it burned. Looking away from the blurry image left in the mirror she looked down at her shoulder and felt her stomach drop.

"Tessa what's taking you so long?" Her sister grumbled as she stepped into the room.

She turned away from the mirror slowly, her face pale and drawn. Whatever complaint her sister had prepared fizzled out as she took her expression in.

"What is it?"

She pushed her tank top strap completely out of the way so it was no longer blocking her view.

"Is this a joke?"

"It burns Gabbie." She turned back to the mirror. "But..... But it looks just like...." She trailed off but it didn't need saying, not really.

Her sister looked panicked and resigned but she took the words that hung between them and said them anyway.

"My tattoo." She took a deep breath, as if in preparation, her next words were barely a croak. "It looks like my tattoo."

A/N: I hope you know I hate you for this @michelangelo-the-metamorphmagus . I do not need more WIPs. Anyway this was inspired by a lil conversation on tumblr with Michael and if I have to suffer so do you guys. Sky is Sarah-Jane's adopted alien daughter from the Sarah-Jane adventures. And Owen is from the Torchwood spin off.

Also I'm probably gonna draw inspiration for my OCs from people in the hp rp community so if that makes you uncomfortable let me know.

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like-a-bag-of-potatoes · 7 years

Text

Reunited - Eight

A/N: Part 8 of 10. Thank you all for your feedback, it helps keep me motivated and inspired. Also a special thanks to my beta @thorne93.

Characters: Jensen x Reader, Jared, Lexi (OC), Violet (OC), Sarah, (OC). And JACK is back:p

Warnings: A little bit of angst and a little bit of fluff.

Wordcount: 3462

Catch up HERE

*not my GIF*

Jensen felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs. He wasn't exactly sure what he had expected you to say, but the fact that you had nothing to say at all hadn't crossed his mind. He let go of you and took a few steps back, the hurt he felt was clear in his emerald green eyes.

“I love you, Jensen. Of course I do. But I don't think that we love each other automatically means that we’ll make it in a long distance relationship,” you said, trying to reach out for his hand, but he pulled away from you.

“It sure as hell is a good place to start.” He was looking at you in disbelief.

“Yes. But we are just getting to know each other again. And I think that if we’re even gonna stand a chance we need a stronger foundation. We need to be able to trust each other.”

“So you don't trust me?”

“That's not what I'm saying…”

“Well… It's what I'm hearing. I will say this one more time. I am truly sorry that I have hurt you before, but I have promised you that I will not do that again. You are it for me (YN), I'm in this for the long haul,” Jensen said sternly. “But if you’re gonna drag up the past every time you’re having doubts, or get scared to commit to me, this will never work. You either forgive me and we move on, or we call it quits right now. I will not let you hold this over me for every future fight.”

You could feel the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes. Of course he was right, it wasn't fair of you to keep dragging up the past, but you couldn't help it, just thinking about him leaving made you crazy. You didn't know what to say to him, instead you just stood there looking at him, trying not to let the tears start flowing.

“Come on,” he said softly. “I'm gonna take you home.”

The car ride back to your house was long and uncomfortably quiet. A million thoughts rushed through your head at the same time, but it was hard to make sense of any of them.

Once Jensen stopped the car in your driveway he got out and rounded the car to open the door for you before walking you to your front door.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked nervously.

“Not tonight,” he said, his eyes flitting between yours. “I think you have some stuff to figure out on your own.”

“Can I see you tomorrow?” you questioned, a slight tremble in your voice.

“Of course,” he answered, a smile on his lips. “I'll make dinner for us for when you get off work.”

“Okay.” To say that you were confused would be an understatement. You han no clue what was going on in Jensen's head, and it brought out a lot of insecurities with you. You did understand that he would need some assurance from you, that you were either all in or all out.

Jensen leaned in to give you a chaste kiss to your cheek before saying goodnight. You watched as he walked back to his car, for the first time since you got back together he wasn't gonna sleep next to you.

“Jensen?” you all but yelled as he was about to open the door to his car. “I do love you, you know.”

“I know,” he said, a reassuring smile on his lips. “Good night (YN).”

“Good night.”

You watched his car as he drove two houses down and disappeared into his own driveway before you unlocked your door and stepped inside.

The first thing you did was change into something more comfortable. Once you had your pajamas on you walked back down stairs and straight to your liquor cabinet, picking up a bottle with golden brown liquid in it. “Guess it's you and me tonight, Jack.”

You didn't bother to get a glass before you plumped down on your couch, your laptop in front of you. There was probably a lot of work that you could start on, but your mind was spinning a million miles an hour and you couldn't concentrate on anything that didn't involve Jensen.

“What do you say, Jack? Any good advice?” you questioned, taking a large sip from the bottle, enjoying the burn in your throat. “You’re not much of a talker are you?”

So here you were again, alone and talking to your whiskey, trying to silence the noise in your head. Everything was such a mess. You wanted Jensen in your life, you wanted a relationship with him, but you couldn't seem to shake that nagging feeling that you wouldn't make it long distance. And then there was the fact of trying to convince him that you were serious, that you were one hundred percent on board.

It had been over an hour since you sat down, and you were definitely starting to feel Jack’s effects on you. Happy about your little buzz, you pulled up your work schedule for the next couple of months alongside the convention schedule that Jensen had emailed you, and you started working.

Jensen lay awake in his bed replaying the events of the night. He didn't know what to expect from you next, but he needed you to make up your mind once and for all. This back and forth was messing with his mind, and however much he loved you, he couldn't spend his life with such uncertainties. He felt guilty that he had put more pressure on you now that you were so busy with work, but he needed answers. Maybe he was being selfish though, it wasn't like he didn't know what it meant to work hard, while they were filming he often worked twelve hour days, sometimes more.

Jensen woke up the next morning after just a few hours of sleep. He padded down to his kitchen to get himself some coffee and get breakfast started.

He was pouring coffee into a large cup when he heard his phone beep with a text message, he anxiously unlocked his phone, hoping it was you. He was a little disappointed when he saw that it was Jared sending him a link to a news story. He clicked the link and started reading.

Supernatural star Jensen Ackles seen out and about with a new girl.

Jensen just rolled his eyes at that headline, but he kept reading.

Jensen Ackles, known from TV shows such as ‘Days of Our Lives’ and ‘Supernatural’, recently moved back to his hometown, Austin, Texas, where he has been spotted several times with the same woman. Yesterday the actor, reportedly, took her to a romantic restaurant and a walk in a nearby park. The questions on everyone's mind right now is, who is this mystery girl? Is this just a summer fling or something more serious? Only time will tell.

Jensen sighed. He knew it was just a matter of time before something like this happened, but he had hoped for a little more time, not to mention the fact that the timing of this sucked.

Jensen hurriedly threw on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt before he rushed over to your house, hoping to catch you before you headed to work. He had no idea how you would react to the article, but he wanted you to hear it from him.

“Jensen?” you questioned as you opened the door, checking the time on your phone.

“I know you have to get to work, but I was hoping you had a minute.” He was nervous, he had no idea how your reaction to this would be.

“Come on in. I actually wanted to show you something,” you said cheerily.

He followed you into your kitchen where he spotted something that looked like a timetable next to a large mug of coffee.

“Come look at this,” you said excitedly and Jensen did just that.

“What is this?” There were dates written on it, with little notes to each date.

“I sat down last night and made a schedule… or.. It's not a schedule per se, but I have eliminated all of your convention weekends and the weekends where I'll be busy with work as well as written down every vacation and such, from now and until Christmas.” You were talking very fast, partly because you were excited, partly because instead of sleeping, you had been up making this. Luckily you had been wise enough to swap out Jack with coffee sometime during the night. “Like here,” you said, pointing to a week in late September. “I have taken out some vacation days here, and there is no wedding that week, so if you want, I can come visit you in Vancouver. And here is a weekend we both have off, so that's also time we have together. I know it's not a lot of time, but…”

You didn't get to finish your thought before Jensen grabbed your face and kissed you.

“What was that for?” you asked, a little puzzled by his actions.

“That was for you being absolutely perfect.”

You dipped your head to hide the blush that rose to your cheeks. “I just wanted to show you that I want to do this. Whatever it takes.”

“Just one more thing before you make up your mind completely,” Jensen said while pulling his phone from his pocket, showing you the article that Jared had sent him.

He watched you intently as you read on, holding his breath in anticipation of your reaction. You had told him that you had wanted to keep things private for now, at least until you had found your footing in the relationship, so he had no idea what to expect from you now.

A small smile played on your lips as you handed him his phone back. “So what is this Mr. Ackles? A summer fling or something more serious?” you teased, quoting the last line from the article.

“Definitely something more serious,” he said, putting his phone on the counter and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I really am sorry for being so hot and cold, you didn't deserve that,” you said, looking up at him through your lashes. “I promise you that the past will stay in the past, and that I am totally committed to you and me now.”

Jensen smiled down at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You wanted nothing more than to spend the day with Jensen, but things were crazy at work and it was all hands on deck. Lexi and Violet were already hard at work when Jensen dropped you off, and Sarah was on her way in. You could hardly get through the front door as the flowers you ordered were already there. There were buckets filled with flowers on nearly every open space on the floor and in every free space in your shelves. It was so much more than you had imagined in when you placed the order and you were instantly worried you wouldn't be able to fit it all in your cooler room.

“This can't be right,” you said, picking up the order confirmation from the counter.

“It's not,” Lexi said, looking over your shoulder. “We’re missing the ‘baby’s-breath’ and all the flowers for the bridal bouquet, along with the white roses.”

Okay… No reason to panic. You would simply have to drive out to your supplier and talk to him, maybe pick them up yourself. That was that sorted, now you just had to find a way to fit them all in your cooler room, there would be a place for you to put it all at the wedding venue, but you didn't have access to that before Thursday, so you would just have to make do until then.

“Lexi, can I borrow your car to get the rest of the flowers?” she nodded. “You and Violet try and fit all of this in the cooler. We won't get any customers in here while it looks like this.”

The two of them set to work while you drove out to see your supplier, praying that he had the rest of your order ready for you. You couldn't start making the floral arrangements before you had everything you needed.

Luckily he had everything ready for you to just pack in Lexi’s car and head back to the store. You were stressed out, so much hung in the balance of this wedding, since there was a clause in your contract giving Wendy the right to terminate it if she wasn't happy with your work. Thankfully, that only went for the first wedding, it was like a trial. Not even the smell of roses that filled the car could calm you down as you drove back.

When you got back, Sarah had arrived to help, but the floor was still littered with buckets and buckets of flowers.

“The cooler’s full,” Lexi said with an apologetic look on her face.

On to problem number three of the day. You didn't have any idea what to do next, the longer the flowers stood in the store, the more likely it was that they would start to bloom, and you couldn't have then do that until Friday. You needed to keep them cool until then.

“Okay…. Uhm.. If we start making the arrangements now, we might get more space in the cooler. I think we can make the ones for the tables, but the bridal and bridesmaids bouquets has to wait until Thursday,” you said, more to yourself than anyone else.

“That's all well and good, but we still have to do the regular Tuesday orders today,” Sarah pointed out.

Right, it was Tuesday. “Okay. You guy's get started on that, and I'll see if I can find somewhere to put away the rest of the flowers.”

You racked your brain trying to come up with something, anything, that could help in this situation.

“Jared!” you suddenly exclaimed, earning you some strange looks from the girls behind the counter while you rummaged through your purse to find your phone, locating Jared’s number and pressing call.

“Hello?” a confused Jared answered. You had never called him before, so you weren't surprised that he was a little confused.

“Hey, Jared, it's (YN).”

“Hey,” he said in a friendly voice. “What's up?”

“Uh.. I have a tiny tiny problem here at work, and I remembered from when you gave me a tour of that beautiful new house of yours that you have one of those walk in refrigerator rooms,” you said.

“Yeeees,” he dragged, waiting for the next part of your inquiry.

“How many flowers do you think you could fit in there?”

“How many… what?” If he wasn't confused before, he sure as hell was now.

“Flowers!”

“To be honest I haven't really tried to fit any flowers in there. What's going on?” he asked with a slight chuckle.

“My shop is filled with flowers and my cooler is full. So I was wondering if I could borrow some space with you until Thursday? Friday at the latest?” you asked.

“Of course. Do you need any help getting them here?” he asked kindly.

“I don't think so, no, but thanks. Is it okay if I bring the first load over now?”

“Sure, I'll be home most of the day so you can just come whenever.”

You said your goodbyes and hung up, turning once again to look at Lexi, giving her your best puppydog eyes.

“Yes, you can take the car,” she said a kind smile on her face.

She helped you load some more flowers into her car before you took off towards Jared’s house, your mood a little lighter and your stress levels far lower. This was far from ideal, but you didn't have any other options at the time. You had to find another solution before the next wedding, but you couldn't worry about that right now.

Jared met you in his driveway, ready to help you carry everything inside, and much to your surprise, Jensen was there with him.

“Hey,” Jensen greeted kindly as he saw you. “Busy day?”

“Hi.” You smiled, before taking the first bucket out of the car. “Like you wouldn't believe.”

Jensen walked up to you and took the bucket from your hands, giving you a quick kiss in the process. “How can I help?”

“I don't want to both--”

“How can I help?” he asked again, interrupting your protest. You knew it was futile to try and argue with him so instead you thanked him and told him there was plenty more flowers that needed to go from your store to Jared’s house.

“We’re happy to help, but first you sit down and have some water while we unload the rest of this,” Jared said, handing you a bottle of water.

“Thank you,” you sighed, taking a seat at his front porch. You felt guilty handing all your work over to them, but you weren't gonna complain about getting to watch them carry things, so you sat there, sipping on your water and shamelessly objectifying them.

A few minutes later Jensen sat down next to you, asking you what had happened at work. He could tell you where stressed out, and he hoped he could help you in some way, other than what he was already doing. He listened as you explained what had happened, and he could clearly hear the frustration in your voice.

“So, how are you holding up?” he asked when you were done talking.

“Better now,” you said honestly, resting your head on his broad shoulder.

The rest of the day had gone about as great as it started. Several issues had popped up in steady intervals through the day, but by some miracle you had managed to sort them out one by one. You were so grateful when the clock finally showed 7pm and you could go home, or to Jensen's house where he was waiting for you with dinner.

After you had unloaded Lexi’s car earlier, you had gone home and gotten your own car, something you were extremely happy about now.

The drive home felt longer than normal, but soon enough you were standing in Jensen's hall, calling out his name.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted, a white apron tied around his waist and a spatula in one of his hands. He walked up to you and placed a soft kiss to your lips, as always making your heart skip a beat. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Long.” You followed him into his kitchen. “Can I help?”

“No! You sit down and relax, dinner will be ready in five.”

Jensen wasn't lying, before you had managed to open the bottle of wine and fill the two glasses, he had placed the food on the table. You didn't even realize how hungry you were before the smell of steak hit you nose. He had made a wonderful meal for the two of you, steak with bearnaise sauce and fried vegetables, it was like heaven.

“So. How are you gonna solve this storage problem of yours?” Jensen asked as the two of you cleared away the plates.

“I have to rent a bigger space,” you said simply.

“Are you moving or are you opening up another location?”

“I don't know. I have to have a meeting with my bank and look at the financial aspect of it. If I open an additional location I’ll have to pay double the rent as well as hire more people, so...”

Jensen took you by the hand and lead you over to the couch, sitting down and pulling you into his lap so that you were straddling him. “I'm really proud of you, you know. I think it's amazing what you have accomplished,” he said, looking into your eyes.

“Says the big TV star,” you teased.

“I'm serious. You built something from the ground up, and now you are talking about expanding.”

“Thank you,” you said, trying to hide the blush in your cheeks at his compliment.

“Anytime,” he said, a cheeky grin on his face. He sat up a little and cupped your cheeks, dragging you down to him so that your lips could meet. The two of you stayed like that for a while, at first the kisses were lazy and sweet, but soon enough they grew hungrier. When Jensen couldn't take it anymore he cupped your ass with his large hands and lifted you up with him, his strong legs carrying both of you to his bedroom.

Tags: (add yourself HERE) All things spn: @frenchybell @itseverythingilike @percywinchester27 @feelmyroarrrr @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @mrswhozeewhatsis @drbagels123 @sandlee44 @jayankles @torn-and-frayed @thereisnolumos @tia58 @charliebradbury1104 @devilgirlsarah @shadowexorsist009 @bea789 @supernatural-jackles @mariairwin666 @madamelibrarian @atc74 @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @hanny-writes-spn @livelylaynie @therewillbeblood @ruprecht0420 @youremycrimsonpain @melonberri @iamnotsaneatall @donnaintx @fangirlextraordinaire @moonstar86 @deanwinchesters-67impala @aquabrie @mcdaring @waywardswain @essie1876 @valerieshubin @gemini75eeyore @silver-and-green @mamaredd123 @mbowles23-blog @dixonsvixon2017 @mysteriouslyme81 @jannalionheart @sukanya99 @luckyfriess @naadestiel @boxofpaperclips-blog @maralisa124 @wwecrazed2010 @imaginesofdreams @winchesterprincessbride @akshi8278 @mariahoedt @smoothdogsgirl @my-favorite-fiction67 @koaladean @tatortot2701 @the-witch-in-silence @fandomsstolemylife00 @just-another-busy-fangirl @ayoolyssa-blog @supernaturalham @melmo-omnomnom @im-a-light-child @pizza3 @thisishowieroll @ginamsmith @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @maddieburcham1

All things: @clairese1980 @girl-next-door-writes @spontaneousam @supernaturalyobessed @mogaruke @idorkish @ashleychinrock @grace-for-sale @artherra @avasmommy224 @we-know-a-little-about-a-lot @mayasmedberg @iceninekiller-blog-blog @starstruckblizzardqueen @dustycelt @mizzzpink

Reunited: @maralisa124 @formulafun @supernatural-fangirl13 @hann-loosechester @viviandarkbloom06 @sieera @valerieshubin @boredoutofmymindstuff @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @dancingalone21 @deansgirl215 @appleslicesandmustard @keepcalmandbeajunkie @suzannebeaketa @supernaturalismalife @redeyedvixen @mylifeasafangirlforever @sparklesuperwholock88 @directionernullneun @lexie-mo @mandylove1000 @mayasmedberg

#spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn rpf #Jensen Ackles #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen x reader #jensen fluff #jensen angst #Reunited #Jared Padalecki

173 notes · View notes

easkyrah · 7 years

Text

Writing Tips

By yours truly, Ea SkyrAHHHHHHHHHHH because how does one write?!?!??? I shall attempt to do the justice as requested without coming across sappy and superior. I would like to put it out there whoever said writing was easy doesn’t know how to write; look at me, already going on a tangent. So I’m just going to leave this here for now, but edit and add on as time proceeds. Note that these tips work for me, but do not have to work for you!

Be realistic to yourself

One thing I’ve noticed is that most fan-fiction writers conform to the type of writing style of the author in the fandom. While this does draw more attention to the fics and appeal to the general audience, this does not promote the writer’s own style.

Most fan-fiction writers aspire to become authors. Play around with writing styles. Personally, I’ve toyed with hyphens a lot after becoming hooked with Edgar Allan Poe’s poetry, and started using more ellipses after reading Sarah J. Maas’s works.

However, Poe uses a plethora of commas and exclamation marks. Maas utilizes myriad of fragments. This doesn’t mean you must incorporate all aspects of another’s. For example, when varying sentence length, I tend to use alliteration—extended with hyphens—perhaps finalized with an ellipse...

Take what you need and flesh it into your own writing style. Take what you love and build what you want. Take what you see and observe your own style emerge. But never, ever feel forced to wedge your words into other works.

Are you a fluff writer? A smut writer? An angst writer? If you tend to lean towards one genre, don’t jerk yourself in another to attempt to “be more diverse, learn how to write more, etc”. Don’t force yourself into a direction that is not you.

Doing so allows writer’s block to seep. Doing so means that your writing is now not reflective of who you are and what you want your writing to come across as.

Trying out new writing types is great, don’t get me wrong. But if you’re not doing it for yourself, for your own experimental purposes, then you lose that passion in writing.

Once you lose that passion in writing, you lose the senses captured in the writing. And if you’re not happy with your writing, then chances are, your readers will not be happy with it either.

Channel the Characters

Most people agree that the plot is the heart of the story, yeah? If so, then the characters are the blood, the essence of life that circulates around, the makes us cherish or condone the story. If there’s no characters, or blood, there’s not story, or life.

Characters have their own unique personality: they react differently in varying scenarios; they have their own personal ghosts, flaws, and vices. With all these facets and more, it’s hard to piece together a plot that resounds to each of the character’s fundamental pillars.

What I do is pretend I am the character, not am I seeing through the character’s eyes. In fan-fiction, you don’t have to exactly follow the same lines of the original characterization. You’re allowed to have a Dark![name], or even Switch. That’s why OC’s gain such popularity nowadays.

You can hold the character with one hand, and have he/she have the other folded into the original pages. You do not have to fold the characters around the plot. You can have a crack character. That is okay. Do not let your mind conform to the characterization.

If a character does something small as small as waggling his/her eyebrows to something large as tracking down your family’s location across the seas from separation since youth and bringing them to you despite others planning contingencies against you, which also takes time away from plotting to gain $$$ since you’re all about greed: I’m just SOC trash, then piece together those small skins of sanctuary in your fics.

That repeated idea will elicit familiarity from your readers. Not only will it seem like you’re just deep in the fandom as the next person, but also will make you a credible writer. Details are the cells in the story’s body. If you can capture them, then you can write the fic.

So when you think of characters, you probably think of the heroine or hero first, yeah? For me, at least, I think of the villain. The villain can be the environment, the mind of the protagonist, or a physical entity. Without the opposition, the character’s response, inner strength, and/or Achilles’ Heel does not manifest.

Who is the villain in your fic? How will he or she challenge the protagonist? Is your villain a flat type, or will he or she undergo character development? Is she insane and fickle, keeping readers on their toes? Or is he beyond strong that he can smash the protagonist to the floor, creating mutual hatred and a cycle? Is their fates intertwined to the point where Priestess Chay-ara and Prince Khufu have their fate encircled by Vandal’s Savage (DC trash)?

The villain challenges the protagonist’s beliefs. Whether if it’s outright as the devil whispering in his or her ear, or indirect as having the protagonist save a child or an elder, the main character and his or her response will determine his or her own characterization.

His or her flaws will be revealed. Is he obsessed with tracking down the villain? Is she lazy to follow through her sense of duty? Is he a stringent, judge-type character? Is she a morally gray character? Does he have a twisted conscience? Does she strike up a deal with the villain? Does she does so for greed or for self-sacrificial purposes?

You can spin the villain in so many ways to shape the plot. What if the main villain was bullied into his or her own the present assessment? Break the trope that the villain victimizes others so they can play the victim. Or will you follow the emerging trope: make the protagonist a bad guy (because he’s threatened? because she’s under mind control?), and only the villain can stop the lead character after fighting him or her for so long.

At Large

In the end, sometimes I really don’t care about the plot or the characters. I don’t care about the snazzy dialogue or elegant symbolism I care about how this overall piece made you feel. Did you cringe? Cry? Smile? Laugh? Those responses allow writers to see how to flesh their writing.

If the writings elicit feeling, then you’ve accomplished beyond scratching the surface. You’ve given human qualities to pages, and given personality to characters. You’ve exploited the emotions, and that in itself is more than talent.

Repetition is no easy aspect to use. If you repeat words such as “lips” or “walls”, that dulls the entire writing. Use synonyms that appeal to you, but do not essentially change your writing style. Doing so only exacerbates the piece at whole.

Your word choice defines who you are as a writer. The jump from “postponing” to “procrastinating” is no large one, but going from “impromptu” to “extemporaneous” is. Having one technical word in a fluff fic creates inconsistency.

With this, I tend to read certain scenes aloud. Doing so allows me to see if the sentences flow, and also adds an emphasis on the syllables, which have stressed and unstressed sounds.

Following the sounds also allows more similar words and something congruous to follow up. I tend to highlight variance in sentence length, and doing so means that each word has to be concise, and chosen carefully.

At Small

Flatter yourself. You are a writer. The eyes are the window to the soul? Pffft, it’s the words that are that, and the key to the heart. You are conquering realms, immersing yourself in the imagination, and jumping across cultures.

If you’re attempting to write, do not multitask. Trust me, you get nowhere doing that. Sit down, and imagine. Close your eyes, and see what you want to happen. Take a journey down through the details.

Personally, I don’t plan when I write. I write on whims. It’s a talent if you can sit down, feeling dry, and conjure up words. To circumvent writer’s block, I take a stroll down Pinterest, talk to other users, or don’t think about writing at all. Often I find that when I’m running a recovery run, that’s often when the creative juices leak. Find your outlet.

We all have other talents or topics we’re experts on. For me, as a cross country and track and field runner, running’s my specialty. I’m no Olympian, but if you can weave in facts that flow in scenes (e.g. Cassian attempting to train Nesta in ACOWAR), then you build credibility piece by piece.

If you have a green thumb, perhaps incorporate your knowledge of plants and the environment into fics. You could create an AU where there’s plants versus zombies (like the app), and have the characters zombies. Or perhaps you can create a fluff scene where the manliest character actually knows about flowers and has his soul mate swooning over him because of that fact. Now I’m just rambling, oh wells.

Many readers are becoming concerned with ethnicity. This is going to be hard to tackle. But if you’re writing a fan-fiction, you don’t necessarily have to detail all the looks of a character. I personally tend to stray away from saying “small eyes” to reference to Asian characters, because one, I find that offensive, and two, not very artistically written. Instead, if describing appearances in new environments, I focus on the details that are altered. Does that even make sense??

Do, not tell. That’s one essential mantra I have to repeat to myself. Don’t say a character’s “mean and cold and crude” right off the bat. Instead, demonstrate such qualities through actions. Don’t say a character’s a sick sadist. Show the reader how the character is one.

Yes, 99% of male characters are hot as heck, rocking those muscular bods, but perhaps go beyond that? I protest that having broad shoulders, often one detail given by writers, is a sign of being hella hot and out of this world handsome.

You can manipulate the tropes to make readers fall in love with characters. For example, the mysterious, violent detective has his determined significant other tucking sunflowers in his hair keeps every flower and upon asking his SO to marriage, he sweeps her away to a sunflower field. Keep the environment mysterious, reflecting the male’s own character, by having the proposal at dusk or dawn.

When world-building, which is essential in AU’s for fan-fictions, space out the facts in the world. Perhaps have a billboard displaying one of the rules society has to follow. Have the character speak one of the despised government regulations through his or her own unique dialogue.

OH AND THE OXFORD COMMA. If there’s not that third comma, I tend to just stop reading the fic. It’s not a huuuuge deal, but it always triggers me. I’m just biased like that so please just kindly turn away from me I just don’t understand.

I’m skipping sooo much, but feel free to add on. I’ll be revising this as I think upon this more, but these were what I could think of at the top of my head.

#easkyrah #writing tips

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