#I’m holding onto the ends of his mustache and swinging around on them

[goatman647]

Cacapoopoo quality jaaeeebnnn vick mar

This is it I’m finally learning how to draw all of my favs all of my little favorite guys ever except for trant I need to prepare 20 days in advance before drawing that guy (I’m putting it off because I don’t want to figure out what his face looks like when he’s not smiling)

[otherworldlyhope]

like memories of dying days

My piece for Febuwhump Day 7: Suffering in Silence

Aka, 2 times Scar suffers in silence, and 1 time he doesn't

Words: 3,426 CW: injury, life series deaths/injuries

The first night Scar wakes up back in Hermitcraft, he’s in pain. A broken, raw cry of hurt leaves his mouth as he tries to pull himself into a sitting position. He ends up staying down, the searing pain cutting across his whole body leaving him unable to even turn his head, let alone sit.

All he can think about is his final moments in the desert. His friend, the only person he felt he could trust, had beaten him to a bloody pulp in the warm sands. It’s disorienting to think about really. And sure, maybe he purposely missed a few punches, and maybe he let himself trip. But there had been very little hesitation from the avian when killing him. 

He can feel every punch, every kick, and every mark lining his body as he lays pitifully on his bed. Not only can he feel them, he can remember them vividly. The way Grian had broken his ribs, how a well placed kick had sent him slamming against Pizza’s grave (that might have hurt the worst, for multiple reasons), how the avian’s fingers fit so perfectly around his neck. Not to hold him, and pull him closer, but instead to squeeze the life out of him.

Slowly he cracks his eyes open, and he can recognize the room he’s in, and he’s almost disappointed. His room smells of dark oak and roses. It’s a scent he had curated specifically to comfort him when we woke from nightmares. 

It doesn’t comfort him now, but probably because what he’s woken up from is worse than a nightmare in a lot of ways. 

Strangely enough, the only comforting thing in the room is the sand falling from his clothes onto his covers. He used to hate the sand. It would find its way into every single crevice of his clothes and skin. Near the end of it all he almost enjoyed the sand, especially when they finally left the desert to fight the final battle. The sand had been his only reminder of his home. 

The home that he died at. The home where Pizza died, it was only fitting really. 

With ragged and uneven breaths, Scar swings his legs over the edge of the bed, pulling himself into a semblance of a sitting position. Every movement brings intense pain that has him holding back tears. 

He’s barely up when there’s a pounding on his door. Out of pure instinct he pulls his sword from his inventory and points it at the entrance to his bedroom. His hands are shaking with the weight despite the months of wielding it before. He hates it.

“Scar?” He knows that voice, at least he should know it. In another life, well maybe this life. That’s right, he’s on Hermitcraft, this is one of his friends. “Scar, are you in there buddy?”

It takes effort to clear his throat. Even now it feels like there are hands pressing against his airway, keeping him from taking a single breath. 

“Yeah I-” His voice sounds so impossibly weak that it breaks his heart. He has to put so much more effort into putting that chipper attitude back into his tone. Even when he does, it sounds wrong. “I’m in my room Mumbo, come on in!”

Mumbo seems out of breath when he shows up at Scar’s door. His usually impeccable hair is an absolute mess, the lines of his suit wrinkled and off. The man looks at the sword still clutched in Scar’s hand, a flash of nervousness crossing his features. Scar slowly puts it on the bed near him, keeping it within reach just in case. 

You never know when someone could come in and kill you. Better safe than sorry and all that. 

“You look awful Mumbo.” Scar laughs, and it doesn’t sound quite right. He needs to fix that soon. “You slept at all lately?”

Mumbo runs a hand over his face, stopping to pull a stray hair from his mustache down. There’s a disbelief in his eyes that almost cracks Scar up. Almost.

“Where have you been?” You look like you’re about to pass out. What’s up with the sword?” Mumbo asks question after question that Scar can’t even imagine answering. 

Instead he discreetly pulls his hands to his ribs and holds them. The pain lessens some at that, and he’s able to manage his facial expressions much better. Scar gives half answers here and there while trying not to actively yell out in pain. It works quite well actually.

When Grian joins the server, Mumbo leaves him alone. He likes it better that way. All desire to even sit is dashed from his mind. Instead he lays back down, pulling his covers tightly over him. It cradles his broken body, and it’s the only comfort he feels at that moment. And when he falls asleep the nightmares that greet him are almost welcome.

In the weeks that follow he doesn’t tell anyone about that final fight, and neither does Grian. All people know is that Grian won, and Scar didn’t. They don't comment about the fading bruises lining his skin, accompanying his scars.

They don't say anything about how the flowery spread of purple across his throat looks suspiciously like handprints. How they’re just small enough to only belong to a few people, and all the rest were long dead at that point.

Scar doesn’t say a single word about third life, or about the pain he feels every moment of every day. They don't need to know. It’s fine.

~ ~ ~ 

Coming to in Hermitcraft after last life is no less jarring than the first time. This time he wakes up to the moving machinery of the Swaggon, the smell of oil motor oil overwhelming his senses for a few blissful seconds. Then the pain hits, and it hits. 

At least this time it’s pinpointed to a singular spot. The arrow through his heart isn’t nearly as painful as the first time around. It still hurts though, a sharp cutting pain as opposed to the searing, continual pain before. 

When he finally is able to pull his shirt up and see the damage, it looks smaller than he remembered the arrowhead being. There’s a blood red mark that makes Scar light headed every time he comes close to touching it. 

Unlike third life, nobody comes to him when he gets back. It’s almost ironic, he was alone in last life, and he’s now alone on Hermitcraft. It had almost crushed him back then, the isolation. He had tried, desperately, to make friends, but it never worked out for him. In fact it seemed to only make him more enemies in the end.

The worst part of it all was the avian that he considered one of his greatest friends. They had just gotten back to being normal on Hermitcraft when suddenly they were put in another death game.

Grian had avoided him immediately, only talking to him to con him out of a precious life. It made sense, but it hurt in a way that Scar couldn’t describe. Like a hole in his already broken heart. They barely crossed paths during the game, and when they did Grian was unbelievably cruel. 

It wasn’t like Scar was expecting to be allies again or anything, but the cold disdain that Grian showed him was almost too much to bear. He had eventually gotten used to it like he had once gotten used to the sand in his hair. Didn’t mean he viewed it fondly though.

Once again he stays quiet about the pain he went through in last life. When people ask about his death, he simply explains that Ren got him. Even when the pain from the arrow fades and life settles, there's an echo in his heart of what happened. 

Maybe one day he’ll be able to say something to someone, but it’s not any time soon.

~ ~ ~ 

Scar has never been so excited and also terrified in his life. 

He’s excited because he’s always wanted this in a way. Having Grian bound to him like this is a perfect chance to finally understand him. He once thought he knew Grian like the back of his hand. In a world full of sunshine and sand Grian had been his best friend, his partner. The only person he trusted in a place full of paranoia and traitors.

They had been everything. And then nothing. 

The second their hearts were synced, Scar didn’t care much about finding his soulmate. Nobody wanted to be around him in last life, so they didn’t deserve to be around him now. He was sure he wouldn’t be the only one that ended up alone. He had a plan though, the Jellies. They would be his soulmate, they were all he needed.

He knew his soulmate was Grian the second he saw him flinch when Scar accidentally twisted his ankle. In that very moment he decided he wouldn’t even acknowledge it. Grian and the others could think he was stupid all they wanted, he really didn’t care. It’s not like they thought he was the smartest anyways. He didn’t mind it though, it made them much more susceptible to whatever tricks he wanted to pull.

Like always, Grian found a way to ruin Scar’s plans. At one point he used to love it, now he can only force a smile and pretend to ignore the way Grian rolls his eyes at the fakeness of it. It’s getting easier now, to fake being happy around others. Unfortunately, with his heart being perfectly timed with Grian’s, the avian can hear the way it stumbles at every lie. 

Grian himself is still as hard to read as before. Maybe even harder. Scar has seen him with BigB, has noticed the way Grian brushes Scar’s concerns away. His heart is always steady, and Scar can’t discern a single thing from the avian. 

And that’s exactly why he’s terrified. He can’t let Grian know him the way he used to. It just feels wrong.

It’s almost like those old days, but at the same time, it’s completely different. Scar had once been an open book to Grian, now he’s attempting to keep himself as closed off as possible. It’s come with its challenges, but it shouldn’t be for much longer. They’re on red now, and soon the game will be over. 

They’ll go back to Hermitcraft and pretend like nothing’s wrong all over again. They’ll base by each other, play pranks, and refuse to acknowledge the toll these death games have on them just like usual. 

It’s nights like these that Scar wishes he could be in the desert all over again. The velvet keep is cold, colder than the sands ever were. Grian is tucked against the wall, pressed as far away from Scar as he can be on the shared bed. Scar had protested it, but Grian insisted on it for safety. 

It doesn’t make Scar feel any safer.

It’s barely been half an hour since they’ve laid down for the night and Grian is already out. It’s the only time Scar can see a semblance of peace on the avian’s face. His mouth is slightly open, his heart steadily beating in his chest. 

Once he’s sure that Grian is fully asleep, he rises from the bed. The avian barely twitches in his sleep, but Scar can feel how his heart stays at the same pace. He slowly tucks the blanket over Grian’s shoulders and stares down at the small figure barely taking up half of the bed.

He almost wants to climb back into that bed and pull Grian to his chest like he did those cold nights in the desert. Grian would usually complain and whine a bit, but Scar could always tell he appreciated it. After third life he struggled to sleep alone for weeks. Last life knocked that problem right out for him though.

The thought gets him to tear his eyes away from the bed and forces him to step away. Now that Grian is asleep he can finally treat his burns without the avian fussing over him. He’s been pretending to be alright all day, and he knows that Grian saw right through it. Still, he didn’t do anything, and Scar didn’t say a word.

The whole thing had been stupid in the first place. He should have seen the trap coming from a mile away, but he was still a little disoriented from Ren’s attack the night before. At least that’s what he tells himself.

He can still hear Joel’s piercing laughter as there was a shock of white hot pain, and then nothing. Death was never fun in these games, and it was all too familiar to his very first death ever. That had been completely different though, and Scar doesn’t enjoy settling on those thoughts.

Instead he goes to the chests and finds himself all the necessary supplies. After a quick hike up the stairs he finds himself on the rooftop of the keep. His legs dangle over the side as he prepares himself for the absolute agony he’s about to endure. 

Even unbuttoning his shirt has him cringing. The burned skin sticks to the fabric and rips away with every pull of the shirt. Still he has to get it off, and so he pulls it quickly like a bandaid. A raw scream of agony leaves him as he hunches over himself, black spots crowding his vision. 

Void, this is going to hurt so much worse than he was expecting. 

Before he can even think about cleaning the burns, there’s steps on the stairs. Scar summons his sword, unsure who the intruder is. Even though he’s in intense pain, he’s going to fight tooth and nail for his last remaining life.

The second he sees the edge of feathers from around the stairwell the sword disappears. He shamefully turns his head down, making sure his tone is just right.

“Sorry if I woke you up, Grian.” He forces through a tight jaw. “You can go back to sleep, I’m just gonna stay up here for a bit.”

There’s a silence that hikes his shoulders up even more. He wants to believe that Grian’s listened and gone back downstairs, but it's unlikely. He’ll probably lecture Scar for waking him up with pain and Scar will have to pretend like the shadow of pain that Grian is feeling is exactly what’s going on with him.

It’s fine.

“You always do this, you know.” Grian finally says, and Scar waits for the parental tone.

It doesn’t come. Instead Grian settles behind him, holding his hand out for the supplies Scar has clutched in sweaty palms. It takes a moment, but Scar reluctantly passes them to him. He doesn’t respond. There’s honestly no words for him to say.

Grian just continues without a response.

“You don't tell anyone how much it hurts. I always thought that you just had really high pain tolerance, or weren’t that injured, but seeing you today…” Grian’s hands are light on his skin as he pours cold water across the burns. “It made me realize that you are way too good at quietly suffering.”

There’s a sharp burst of pain on his left shoulder that he cringes at, but not a single sound leaves him, as if to back up Grian’s point. 

“I don't try.” Is the only defense Scar can muster. 

“How can you not- okay whatever. Face me real quick-” Scar slowly turns towards Grian and the look of sympathy in his eyes almost floors Scar. He continues with his task as he speaks, not making eye contact. “I always wondered how you got back to normalcy after third life. I mean I was bedridden for weeks after my fall, and that wasn’t even as bad as-”

He stops his rambling as he realizes just where it will lead. Neither of them have mentioned that last fight, and they never will. As Grian moves onto the bandaging he gets quieter, his face drawn in concentration. 

“It hurt a lot actually.” Scar clears his throat, looking off in the distance so he doesn’ have to see how Grian reacts. “Both times. But I just couldn’t let anyone know what happened, it just felt like too much to put on other people’s shoulders.”

“You spoon.” Grian chides, and there’s the parental tone. “We all love you Scar, and we want to know. Mumbo was worried sick for weeks after last life when you wouldn’t leave your house. He thought you hated all of us.”

Scar can’t think of a single thing to say, so he simply shrugs. The immediate hurt makes him regret the decision, and he bites down hard on his cheek to keep himself from reacting. The skin there is completely scarred up by now, destroyed from years of continual use.

“Void at least cry or something Scar.” Grian snaps and it takes Scar back. “I can feel it, and even though it’s lessened it freaking hurts. You’re allowed to be in pain, I’m not going to judge you or anything.”

Once again, Scar just stares at the stars, keeping his mouth shut. 

When the bandaging is done, Grian holds his hand out. Scar stares at it for a moment before grabbing it, the avian’s hand warm on his. He’s hauled to his feet and led down the stairs, Grian’s fingers intertwined with his. 

They settle back onto the bed, but this time Grian doesn’t go to the wall. Instead he stays rather close to Scar, basically in his arms if he were to reach out. He doesn’t. 

Even when his eyes close, his heart stays rapidly fluttering. His eyelids twitch every few seconds and Scar can see words playing on his lips. What is he thinking about?

“I’m sorry.”

Scar blinks once, then twice as he stares at now open, dark eyes. He’s never once heard Grian apologize, except when he was actively killing him all that time ago. It rings in his ears for just a moment.

“What are you sorry about?” He finally asks, his mouth open in surprise.

“I’m sorry for killing you.”

“We already established that the creeper kill wasn’t your-”

“Not that Scar.” Grian groans, an exasperated sigh leaving him. He pulls himself up on the pillow, eye to eye with Scar. “I meant all the other times. The taken lives, everything.”

His breath catches and Scar tilts his head curiously. 

“And I’m sorry for killing you to win.” He says quietly, and the words settle in Scar’s chest heavily. Like a weight on his heart, actively pulling him down. “You deserve so much better than what I’ve given you.”

“I don't think that-” Scar starts.

“I don't care what you think.” Grian says quickly, his voice rising for just a moment. “You deserved better, and you still do. So tell me what I’ve done to hurt you and I’ll apologize for it all, because I can't bear to watch you just hold it all in.”

Scar’s mouth opens and closes multiple times before he settles on a response. 

“I’ve already forgiven you for all of it, Grian.” Scar says, a sad smile on his lips. “It hurt far too much to stay angry, so I just let it all go.”

“I don't deserve that Scar.”

“No you don't.” Scar finally reaches out, an invitation. “But you get it anyways.”

Tears spring in the avian’s eyes as he stares at Scar’s outreached hands. After a few seconds of deliberation he accepts it, pulling himself into Scar’s arms. He’s impossibly warm on Scar’s bandaged skin, and he can feel when the avian sighs.

“Do you feel any better?” He mumbles and Scar has to strain his ears just to hear it.

“Not really.” Scar finally admits, and it feels kind of good to say. “It hurts a lot, but it’s nice not being alone for once.”

“Well next time you get hurt you better come to me.” Grian hums softly. “No more of this quiet pain stuff or I will hunt you down and make you share your feelings.”

Scar laughs quietly, the movement burning across his chest. Finally he lets out a hiss of pain, and Grian frowns. 

“Fine Grian.” Scar reluctantly says. “I’ll go to you then.”

“Good.”

For the first time in a long time when Scar goes to bed in pain, there’s someone else who knows, and someone else who cares. It’s foreign, but it feels strangely good.

[nightlight-firelight]

Hi everyone! Sorry for the long wait! Art block (Or writing block?) is the worst and I’ve been busy. I’m also trying to make this a gender neutral story and I’m not too experienced on this so hopefully I’m doing ok so far! Now with that out of the way, on to chapter 2!

“Falling (in love) So Fast That I Can’t Even Think!”

Chapter 2

You take a second to realize that he was holding you a bit tight around the waist, and the silence of the tension began to build every second that neither of you moved.

“Hi?” You ask him. You mentally smacked yourself in the head for that comment. At this point of view, you can see that the, now real and very handsome doctor, eyes were a shade of blue that could take your breath away and-

“Oh, um,” Eggman studdered out a bit softer and less confident the what you have seen him in the show. “Hi.” He finally decided to look around at his predicament and examined your room.

“Where am I?” Eggman finally pulled you back onto the bed, creaking slightly from the unexpected new weight. Your mind finally snaps back into reality as the warmth from his hands fades from your hips, already missing the connection he had. You need to relax, and not freak out the poor man sitting on your bed.

“You’re in my room.” You finally managed to push the words out of your lips. His face turns to confusion and worries at all of the merchandise of not just his universe, but the main Sonic series as well. His mind mostly likely wandered into a ‘crazy fan’ mode and tried to back up. You perk up and lean back slightly, making sure to not fall off the bed this time, but also give him some space to relax. Ivo’s movements began to quicken as he still backs up, almost falling off the other side of the bed. He catches himself and looks at you with a face of slight panic and worry.

“What’s all this? Who are you and what-” You cut him off with a hand slightly raised, signaling to calm down and to relax. “Breath, please. I won’t hurt you.” You promised him as you instruct him through a breathing exercise. After a small bit of confusion between the two of you, you lead the poor man into your living room, hesitantly on his part, and led him down on your couch. Just walking into your kitchen to grab two white ceramic mugs, you hear him clear his throat.

“So, what’s going on?” You can feel his gaze on you as the first mug is filled with hot liquid, the steam coming from the filling mug as your brain thinks of what you should do. You switch mugs, taking out his mug for yours. You take a breath.

You’re in my house, and not in your multiverse.” Finally giving him some type of answer as his, at this point, huge bear paw-like hands, envelope the mug and took a small sip. You went to grab your mug as he commented on the choice of beverage you had given him.

“Hot Cocoa?” The question you as you at on the opposite side of the couch, holding what you liked to think, that at this moment was your liquid courage. You take a small sip and taste the liquid pooling into your body. You almost blush as you remembered the ‘CowBot’ episode where Eggman offered Sonic and Tails hot coco and messed with them, waiting for his machine to arrive.

“I thought you might like it.” You confess as he stairs back into his cup, pondering on his whole situation. He takes a breath and looks at you.

“Can you explain to me how I may have gotten here?” All you could do is nod as you start the long trek into the explanation of who is and on all of your knowledge on how he may have gotten here.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

The next few hours were, as you expected, emotional. You had to start with who you were, where he was, and leading him into the conversation that may or may not have caused way too much emotion for the both of you.

“So the main series follows Sonic and his friends, but mostly Sonic, throughout his adventures fighting his version of the doctor. There in the form of games.” He takes a sec and has a look that tells you to keep going. You explain all the story of how the franchise came to be from the nineties till the game you were kinda worried about. Sonic Adventure 2. You tell him the basic plot points and slowly explain how the Main Univers Doc’s Grandfather died along with his grandchild, Maira. He winces when you explain this and see that he’s shaking whenever the two popped up. When you explained that Shadow was made by his Grandfather, his mood perked up and he getting giddy and you have to admit, his cute squeal of figuring out that somewhere he could be related to one of the most powerful people on his island. You smile and after his cute reaction, keeps the conversation going with more information about the franchise. By the time you had reached the current point of the history of the franchise, the man had a lot of questions.

“So let me get this straight,” Eggman’s posture was lax as he was leaned back into the couch, making himself more at home for the time being. “You’re telling me that the main version of me has released a water monster god, a prototype of Shadow, that is a giant lizard, a god within the earth that’s made of darkness, and tried to play with time and space like it was a toy?” He questioned as he took another sip of his now lukewarm cup of cocoa, stroking his mustache pensively, looking at you for a reasonable answer on why he would do so. “Well the BioLizard thing wasn’t truly his fault, but the rest were planed. And I’m saying ‘planned’ with quotes because I don’t think for a second that he thought a few of those through.” You chuckle at the main Doc’s decisions. While you did think his plans were really good, sometimes you think he may have never really thought things through before going to start his plans. Doc downs the rest of his drink as you realized that your cup is still half full. He sets it on the counter in front of the two of you and leans back into your couch. You smile at the thought that he’s finally warming up to you. In all reality, he could take you down with a swing of his fist and run anytime, but having him trust you this much to serve him a drink and have a nice conversation did bring up some fuzzy feelings you have been trying to push down withing the last few hours.

“So I’m still confused, how did I get here?” Doc asks as he cracks his spin a bit to relax better. You take another sip of your dink and set your cup down. You look him in the eye with a bit of confusion. “I’m not sure. I just watch the DVD and you were the one to start seeing me, after the ending of your battle with Sonic and Tails, that white light appeared and you grabbed me before I fell off my bed.” You look towards him and blush a bit, your face now warm from the memory of the save. “Thank you for catching me, I don’t think a concussion would have helped the situation now, would it?” You try and make the small joke appealing to make it less awkward. He blushes and nods, a small ‘no problem’ slips from his lips as you can see he’s trying to not make eye contact and his cheeks, just slightly visible under his mustache, a small bit of warmth wraps around his cheeks. Your brain gets hit with a moment of clarity and you jump up from the couch and take a second to grab your DVD player from your room, bringing it back to him to study. “I’m not sure if this would help you get back home,” You start, “ But it’s a start.” You also hand him the note that came with the box along with the Sonic figure. He takes the figure first and rolls it over a bit, looking at the detail.

“So this figure and the note came along in the box with the DVDs?” He asked as he set the figure down as he grabbed the note. You blush and remember that wasn’t the only thing in the box. You almost had forgotten the figure of the living breathing man in front of you. You ask him to give you a second and hurry back to your room. Searching the room, you almost give up on finding the figure, until you spot it halfway under the bed. You bend over and grab the figure and examine it. It’s still the same figure, but less detailed now. It actually looks like how one of the box set figures is. Cheaply made and having a missing paint splotch here and there. It still was a good-looking figure though, just not as best made. You start your very slow pace back to the living room, taking a small bit of time to think about something. The Sonic figure was still the same as it was before the doctor arrived, why did the doctor change-. You stop mid-way in your hallway to finally piece a big puzzle together. The figure of the doctor was some type of catalyst for his arrival. Like a gateway to get here. ‘And now that the figure is back to normal, does that mean that the Sonic one-’ You didn’t finish that thought as you hurry back to the living room, the doctor just putting the not back onto the counter. He looks up as grabs the DVD player and sets it onto his lap. He smiles as you enter the room.

“ Hey, you ok?” He asks you as you sit back down next to him, gently grab the Sonic figure, cradling it with some care.

“I’m ok,” You answer with some melancholy in your voice. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking of something that just came to me.” You look over to him, Doc staring back, patiently waiting for you to continue. You take a breath and look him in the eyes. “The box set also came with a figure of you as well.” You explain as you gave him the small toy, his face going into a slight pout over the quality as he looks it over.

“I’m much more handsome than this.” He sulks over the craftsmanship of his figure compared to the one in your hand. You pat him on the back with your free hand, feeling him tense for a sec and then relax. You giggle at the line, remembering it from the 30th-anniversary comic. Your mood lightening up a bit at his reaction. “It was actually just as well made before you appeared in my room.” You explained as you rub your thumber gingerly over Sonic’s quills. Your mood dampens a bit. “I’m really thinking that the figure was the way-”

And a giant flash of white engulfed both of your eyesight. You scream as you feel a sense of weightlessness as you clutch the figure closer to you. Opening your eyes after that flashbang of light, as see that you’re in. You blink and take a look around. You try and gain a scene of where you were as you feel like you were falling down. You see Eggman trying his best not to scream as he is also in the same predicament as you. You look at this ‘tube’ as you decided to call it and take a look a the warping walls. They move with colors that remind you of the goop In Super Mario Sunshine. The colors of yellow, magenta, and white mixing together and making the whole experience feel like a trippy dip around a pipe. The tube had some slight aura to it as it was some type of fuzzy feeling in the back of your spine, not good but not unpleasant either. You look down past your now slightly screaming partner in crime to see a large warp ring that looked something right of the Sonic movie, looking to land right over some type of woods. You realized from the rate your accelerating from and the height from the ring to the ground would lead to more than a few broken bones.

Holding your breath and snaping your eyes closed as you wait for the pain to hit, the now cool air of the new land you arrived on pools into your skin as you want to feel at least a bit of joy knowing that right at the end, you feel cool. You never did feel the ground but instead a pair of arms holding you and the sensation of rocketing back up. Opening your eyes, you see Doc holding you again, having been lifted from the ground by two sleek black jetpack type of wings protruding from the back of his jacket. He looks down at you with a smirk and chuckles a bit.

“We have got to stop doing this.” He’s sarcastic, and the potential way of flirting, way of teasing sends you a bit more than tomato red in the face as you wonder if it’s the altitude of the comment that making it hard to think right at the moment. You almost didn’t hear him as he starts to talk.

“It looks like we’re flying over Seaside Island Jungle.” He starts to explain. “I’m going to fly us back to my lair and we can figure out from there what’s going on.” You look over his shoulder for a brief second to see the portal closing and finally dusting away with a puff of gold sparks. Looking back and see a breathtaking view, seeing the full grand scale of the island from up in the clouds. You can even start making out at sever locations from both seasons. You only think of what’s going to happen next when you see golden sparks emulate from your closed hands and feel a heavyweight in your arms and Doc quickly getting down to the ground, getting to be just at the end of ‘Nameless village’ as your reflexes grab on tightly to what you were holding onto. You both look down and see a very unconscious Sonic the Hedgehog in our arms. You look him over and inspect the teenager and see that he’s breathing, and in an ok shape. You look back at Doc and even he’s surprised by this addition to the group.

“Is he ok?”You question him as he gives Sonic a once over. You getting used to finally landing on the ground, stretching your legs after that small adventure.

‘He’ll be fine after some rest, but he looks exhausted.” Eggman questions as you scoop Sonic back up into your arms, being careful of his quills, making sure you don’t end up looking like a human banana peel. You look over at Doc and he looks like he’s, and you have to look a bit more closely at his expression because he looks, jealous? You ponder on that thought that the man might be jealous of the unconscious blue blur as the both of you set off into town, wondering where to go from here.

“Hey!” You hear a cry from in front of the, three? of you. You look up and see four multi-colored anthropomorphic animals. “What did the two of you do to Sonic?” Cried the two-tailed Kitsune. You see all three, with the exception of Amy, who at this point is trying to stop the trio, of Sonic’s friends close in around you. You give a panicked look to Doc as it dawned on you that Doc and yourself were about to be attacked by Tails, Knuckles, and Sticks.

Shit.

[saeyoungchoismaid]

warm milk tea with honey

Pairing: Satan x gn!reader Genre: fluff? angst if you squint  Warnings: creepy perverts but it’s okay your knight in shining amour appears  Summary: You meet a certain magical fellow when he helps you out of a bad situation.  Word Count: 1.4k words A/N: I wanted to make it gn but ngl taking out “that’s my girl” at the end hurt my soul. Also I never actually say Satan’s name so this could literally just be a Howl’s Moving Castle fic lmao Listen to the Howl’s Moving Castle theme music while you read for a better experience!! It’s literally so pretty oh my god

You sigh as you place your final hat of the day down. You massage your hands and wrists before rubbing at your dry, tired eyes as another sigh escapes past your lips. Standing from your old, rickety chair, you stretch your arms above your head and flinch when you hear the loud cracks and pops. You sigh for a third time and drop your arms, pulling on one of your favorite hats you’ve made after grabbing your bag before heading out of the shop. 

You walk down the street and smile at people when they greet you, your own voice soft with your returned greetings. Your eyes flicker this way and that, in awe of the decorations and the big parade going on. Seeing as how the main roads are closed for the parade and there are big crowds covering them to enjoy it, you decide to take some back alleyways and streets to get to your destination. You pull the paper from your bag and check the address, trying to make sure you’re going the right way. 

As you’re looking down at it and mumbling to yourself about where the building could possibly be and a couple of ‘am I lost?’s, you suddenly bump into something hard. You let out a grunt and take a step back, assuming you had run into a wall. To your surprise, it’s actually a soldier with a sleazy smile on his face. 

“Hey, it looks like a little mouse lost its way,” he coos, starting to smirk down at you. This is when you realize just how much bigger he is than you. 

“Oh, no. I’m not lost,” you lie, trying not to stutter or show any fear. That’s what he wants. Fear.

“This little mouse looks thirsty,” he continues, placing his hand on the wall beside your head, caging you in, “We should take them for a drink.”

We? “No thank you. I have someone waiting for me,” you reply, trying to excuse yourself. You try to back away from the man only to bump into another. You turn to find another man with a thick mustache staring down at you with a look in his eyes that you don’t like. 

“They’re pretty cute for a mouse,” he all but purrs, his eyes roaming up and down your figure. 

“How old are you anyway? You live around here?” the first man asks, his eyes also leisurely taking you in. You cross your arms over your chest as if you’re naked and he can see you, your heart starting to beat harder against your ribs at his intrusive gaze and questions. 

“Leave me alone,” you snap, moving away from both of the perverts. 

“You see? Your mustache scares all the good ones,” the blond teases the second soldier, a light laugh escaping him. 

“So? I think they’re even cuter when they’re scared,” the man coos back in response, not bothering to look at his friend and instead keeps his heavy gaze on you. Your heart drops to your stomach at that, fear starting to encase every crevice of your mind. 

Just as they start their prowl towards you, you hear a new voice behind you. 

“There you are, sweetheart,” you hear a suave voice call, your eyes starting to sting with tears in fear that another soldier has decided to join these two. “Sorry that I’m late.” You jump a bit when a big hand lands on your shoulder, your head turning to your left to see blond hair and emerald green eyes. “I was looking everywhere for you,” he coos sweetly at you, pulling you into his side. 

“Hey, hey! We’re busy here!” the blond soldier shouts, puffing up his chest and straightening his back to appear tougher. 

“Are you really?” the man asks, voice as smooth and sweet as warm milk tea with honey. “It looked to me like the two of you were just leaving,” he finishes, lifting his hand from your shoulder and pointing two fingers to soldiers. When his fingers go up, the men go rigid and suddenly look scared. Your mysterious savior suddenly swooshes his hand to the right, causing the men to turn their bodies to face that way. Finally, he brings his arm completely off of you to swing his arm back behind you two, causing the soldiers to follow his movement and start marching that way. 

You stare on in shock, feeling his hand come back to your shoulder once the men start walking away from you both. “Don’t hold it against them,” he says softly to you, making you turn your head back around to look at him, “they’re actually not all that bad.” You scoff at this, your mind replaying what those horrendous men just said to you. You go to argue when he adds on, “Where to? I’ll be your escort this evening.” You swear he sounds flirty, but you just think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, hoping the attractive man has taken a sudden interest in you. 

“Oh, um, I’m just trying to make my way to the nearby bakery,” you explain, studying him as you say this. The blue necklace dangling from his neck catches the light, making it shine and reflect shimmery, blue light on the wall next to you. 

You lean back when he suddenly leans in, his face completely calm as he informs you, “Don’t be alarmed, but I’m being followed. Act normal.” He removes his arm from around your shoulder and brings his hand to yours, lightly clasping your hand and gently tugging you forward. You two begin walking as if nothing is wrong but you can’t help but to feel nervous. Maybe you should’ve just stayed home and continued making hats. 

“Sorry, looks like you’re involved,” he whispers, keeping his eyes forward. You gasp softly and bring your other hand to clutch onto his arm, your mind racing with what he’s dragged you into. A gang? A cult? Is he a criminal?

Your jaw completely drops when black, gooey figures start to emerge from the walls and start stalking towards you both. You swing your head around to look over your shoulder only to find even more of them trailing after you both. A gasp flies out of you when he suddenly veers off to the left, pulling your body with him. You gasp for a third time when even more appear in front of you and there’s nowhere to turn, nowhere to run. 

“Hold on!” he shouts while he lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist. You cry out when you suddenly jump high into the air, the wind blowing through your clothes and hair. He takes a hold of your left hand with his own, your eyes gaping down below you once you realize that you didn’t just jump. You’re flying. 

“Now, straighten your legs and start walking,” he commands, making you realize that you curled up into a ball in his side. You gulp and shakily straighten your legs, doing as you’re told. You feel like you’re going downstairs, laughter erupting from you from the shock and the craziness of it all. He shifts behind you and takes both of your hands in his, lifting them up as if you’re a baby he’s helping to walk. 

“You’re a natural,” he whispers into your ear, making you giggle like a schoolgirl at the compliment. You don’t really think you’re doing anything, but you accept the flattery nonetheless. You look around you both at all the tall buildings and the people down below, laughing some more when a bird flies past you. This is when you start to think that maybe all of this is one big dream and you fell asleep at your hat-making station. 

Your eyes widen again when he approaches a balcony, landing on the edge and gently floating you down to the floor. He holds your hands the entire time, a warm smile gracing his features at how happy and surprised you look. “I’ll be sure to draw them off. Wait a bit before you head back outside, okay?” 

“Okay,” you agree, embarrassed by how breathy your voice sounds. 

“Such a good listener,” he coos with a smirk before suddenly flying backward and dropping down into the crowd below. You gasp and run forward, looking down only to find that he’s disappeared. You can’t help but to feel a bit disappointed at this. 

You wonder if you’ll ever see him again...

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MASTERLISTS

More with Satan

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[magicpumpkin3]

Hello! I see that requests are open. So can I request a scenario with Ace bringing his s/o with him to his home on summer break. But he totally forgot to tell his family about her(fem reader or gender neutral if you want). So imagine the shock in their faces. The rest is up to you. Love your writing btw 💖

Note: I apologize it took so long. I'm bad at describing Ace's character and I know so little about his family. So I gave all of his family members appearance from my imagination. Hope It's okay!

Note№2: Sorry if it's bad, I tried my best. And thank yous for the compliment!

Ace x fem!reader

"Are you sure, you didn't forget anything?" Looking at Ace suspiciously, you hand him one of your bags. "I did not forget anything! How many times do I need to tell you this?" You look at him with one eyebrow raised. "Why are you looking at me like that?!" You sigh, turning away from him to shake your head.

Currently you and your boyfriend were waiting for your turn to face the mirror teleporter. It's been a long time since you were out of school. Last time was probably on one of your dates. Sighing to yourself, you can't help but feel worry. There's something you both forgot to do you most likely forgot to tell Ace what he forgot to do.

"Hey, I know you're worried about meeting my family but it's going to be fine, they'll love you." Ace say's with a small nudge on your shoulder. He continues with a wide grin "You'll bond and become really close to them. They'll probably even try to invite you to most family dinners. There's nothing to be worried about! We'll be fine!" Chuckling to yourself, you look at him with a small smile on your face "Whenever you say that, there is something to worry about." Ace looks at you, like you have just offended his whole family tree "HEY!"

Laughing at one another like that, you don't notice how time seems to pass by. It was your turn already to teleport when you were ready to hit Ace with one of your bags he dared to say that you don't actually help with overbolts. You reach out your hand to Ace. Grinning like an idiot, he takes your hand in his. Into the unknown you go, as they say it.

Time skip brought to you by me not knowing enough about Ace's family-

And here you were standing in front of a door. It's an absolutely regular door of a regular house but to you it looked like gates of hell themselves. Nervously smiling you look at Ace. "Are you sure they're going to like me?" He gave out an annoyed whine. "Yes, they will like! Now for the Great Seven, can we please come inside already? Or are you still scared?" Last part of his speech followed by a smug grin. Pouting, you turn away from him and ring the doorbell.

A few seconds of silence were followed by a some shouting on the inside and a few loud bangs. Gulping, you look at Ace, who looked at you back. Right at that moment,the door swings open. "Who the fu-! Oh...eh...hello." Standing before you was Ace's brother? There's no other explanation to their similarity. The only difference is a hair style and lack of a heart under his eye. "Who's there?!" Females voice rang trough the hall. "It's Ace and his... Friend!" The taller version of your boyfriend replied. This was getting awkward really fast.

"Actually that's my girlfriend!" Ace announces proudly, pulling your l by your waist closer to him. The face of his brother was priceless. Eyes wide, mouth agape, he was looking at you and back at him. Then he let out a whizz. "Yeah and I'm the Queen of hearts! Okay that's a good joke but oh my-" he starts to laugh uncomfortably. "Quit it dumbass, I'm dead serious! She is my girlfriend. I told you about her!" Tightening his grip on you, Ace continues arguing with his brother, which causes older Trappola to hold on too a doorframe and laugh even harder.

"Oi! What are you all barking about here?" Before you appeared a woman, probably Ace's mother, Mrs Trappola. She looks like she could take out a wild bear in a fight. A bit plumped, with short curly brown hair, chocolate like eyes, wooden spoon in her hand, she stands in front of you with her hands crossed over her chest. "Can you believe it? Our baby boy Ace trys to tell me this girl is his girlfriend!" While oldest of Trappola brothers continues to laugh his brains out, woman turns her head your direction and gazes at you with a look that could surely incinerate you, if she wanted. "Is that truth young lady?" She asks with a raised eyebrow. You nod with your head aggressively, holding onto Ace's arm. This woman is so intimidating and you just met her!

Bright smile appears on her face. "Welcome to the Trappola family my dear!" And your enveloped in a warm hug. Blinking a few times you hug Mrs Trappola back. Ace's brother immediately stoped laughing. "Wait, you weren't joking?! Holy Seven- Dad!!!" A loud thud is heard from the inside of a house. Next thing you know, there's a man standing before you in a fighting pose, like there's some kind of a danger. Looking around confused, Mr Trappola straights up, fixing his clothes a bit, he pretends like nothing happened. "What's all this yelling about?" Mr. Trappola is a tall, linky man, with a short bright red hair, crimson eyes and a big mustache. He looks like he haven't slept in a while.

"Our son brought a girl home!" Finally letting go of you, Mrs Trappola turns to her husband with a bright smile and sparkles in her eyes. Immediately father of the family throws his hands up in air and yells a loud 'YOOHOO'. They high five each other. Ace's older brother starts laughing again. "Everyone stop!!!" Your boyfriend, as red as Riddle's hair, trys to stop this mockery by pushing his parents apart. "Why? Our son finally has a significant other that he thinks is worthy to be shown to us!" Before Ace could object that statement, he was sucked into a big family hug.

"Don't just stand there! You're in for a hug too!" Mrs Trappola says, while her husband stretches his arm out, welcoming you in. And you're in for another hug, sandwiched between Trappola brothers. After what gelt like eternity, you were finally free. "Oh! Now, why are you standing outside like some homeless cats? Let's go inside!" With that, you and Ace's brother follow Mrs Trappola inside, while her husband and and your boyfriend are getting your bags.

Time skip brought you by my lack of knowledge about Ace's character-

"…And that's Ace on his first day of school! Isn't he adorable?" Mrs Trappola is showing yet another picture of little Ace. Little boy was standing with a giant backpack on his back and banquet of flowers in his hands, tired but still bright smile shinning on his face. "He is! I can't believe he was so cute, whom am I kidding he still is!" You and your boyfriend's mother are getting along very well. Sitting on their couch, you look at Trappola's family album. "MUM!!! Stop!" Ace is hopeless trys to steel album from his mother. "Young man, as your mother, it is my duty to show whole you, past and present, to your significant other and embarrass the living hell out of you. So, no." Pushing Ace away, with her free hand, she continues. "And this is him with his new classmates!"

Trappola family are such a nice people. They took you in, like you were and old friend of theirs. Even though they were mocking each other, you could see with how much love they did it. Ace's older brother, telling you about Ace's 1 girlfriend and how he cried when she broke up with him. Mrs Trappola telling you some really embarrassing stories about both brothers. Mr Trappola sharing some inside family jokes. You had dinner with them. Ace's mother's cooking skills are beyond limits. Fried chicken tastes so good, especially with the 'family-secret' sauce and salad. And don't get me started on the pies she made, my lord-

At the end, you and Ace got to his old room to sleep. Particularly facepalming onto his bed, your boyfriend let's out a loud groan. "Tired?" You sit near him on his bed. Nodding , Ace turns on his back to look at you. "You know, I finally realized what you forgot to do." Quirking and eyebrow he sits up a bit. "And what is it, that great me forgot to do?" A small smug smile appears on his face.

"You forgot to tell your family, you have a girlfriend."

[vechkinfan]

Jack

A/n: I found this little one shot while I was looking through the deep dark depths of my google docs the other day and figured I might as well share it. Its a young Joker fic, and my fist time writing for the joker so please take it easy on me!😁

Pairing: Joker x OFC

Summary: A brief glimpse into the Jokers past, memories that he would rather keep buried, memories that reminded him of someone that held his heart. A heart that now burned for Gotham's reckoning.

Warnings: Talks of abuse, swearing, angst, vague talk of death

Jack found himself climbing the dirty, half rotten stairs of his apartment building. The light bulbs on every other floor, blown out or stolen, casting a darkness over him as he made his way up. 

His mother had one of her 'friends' as she liked to call them, over. So he made himself scarce for the afternoon, like he always managed to. Jack weaseled his way out of the apartment when those creeps were over. Especially the ones who would come right in and give him those looks. Those perverted sideways eyes when his mother was too plastered to notice any different. Looks that sent a piercing shiver across his whole body, and an uneasiness to settle in his gut.  He much preferred the men who would come over and pretended like he didn't exist. 

The sun had long since started to sink in the sky  as he climbed the stairs towards home and Jack knew he had to make it before the streetlights in the narrows started to flicker. The evil in his apartment was one thing, but the evils that lurched about once all the sunlight was extinguished in the sky was much more frightening. 

Rounding the last flight of stairs, his eyes landed on a girl  sitting at the top of them. Her back pressed against the door jam of the closest apartment door.  One foot stretched out in front of her blocking his path and the other bent, shaking vigorously on the next step down. 

She was sucking on a red popsicle, as her fingers drummed against the skin of her knee that poked free from a hole in her ratty jeans. 

Jack knew she just moved in a few months back, but he never crossed paths with her before now. However every time he opened the door to let in one of his mothers 'friends', she would be sitting at the top of those stairs. Usually a pack of playing cards in her hands, flicking them one by one, aimlessly down to the next landing. 

"What flavor is that?" Jack asked, curious at what her voice would sound like. He'd been intrigued by her presence the moment he saw her all those weeks ago. 

Pulling the half melted popsicle from her mouth, the girl turned her head slightly to gaze towards him. Her dark brown hair in a curly mess that covered half of her face, but not enough for Jack to miss the darkness of her left eye. It almost appeared black, the deep brown of her iris engulfing her pupil, giving her a truly ominous appearance. 

"Cherry." She answered, her voice nothing what he expected. It held a delicate raspiness, nowhere near the point where it matched Ms. Emerson two floors up who had been smoking 3 packs a day since the depression. There was a softness to it though, one that made Jack want to hear more from her.  "You live in the apartment cross from me don't you?" 

Nodding his head, Jack shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "Sure do." 

She sat in silence after that, and he stood a few stairs below quietly staring at her. His feet shuffling against the creaky old floor board, wondering if this would be the end of their talk. Perhaps it'd be the last time they spoke at all. Jack knew the Narrows had people shuffling around from place to place, like one of them scam shell games. She very well could be gone by morning. 

 "I can bring you one next time…. If you want?" Swinging her leg around, she sat so she was facing him. Both feet planted one step down as she licked the red sugary liquid that was starting to drip down the wooden popsicle stick and onto the top of her hand. 

"I got two left in the freezer." Her voice was soft and held a nervousness that made fighting off a sly grin for Jack very difficult.  

"Yeah, I'd like that." Hustling up the stairs, Jack found himself sitting down beside her. 

His eyes getting a better glance at the girl, in the low light of the stairwell. Now he could tell she was using her hair to hide the right side of her face. Her right eye was an awful shade of purple, and the lid swollen so badly Jack knew she must be having a hard time seeing. 

As he let his eyes pan across her face, he noticed her lip that was stained with cherry popsicle was also busted open. The girl next to him seemed to have come from a similar home as himself. It was near luck that Jack hadn't gotten his ass handed to him by one of his mother friends in a while. Talking back was a habit that he couldn't quit no matter how much he was beaten for it. Not to mention the fit of laughter that usually escaped his thin lips as a belt or a fist swung in his direction didn't help either. 

"You got a name?" He asked, finally dragging his eyes back to meet her dark gaze. 

"Billy." 

Furrowing his brow and giving his head a subtle tilt, he wondered if she was fucking with him.

"That's a boy's name." He puffed out a small laugh. However the girl beside him didn't react at all. 

"I know, you don't gotta remind me." She shrugged her shoulders, before finishing off the popsicle and throwing the wood stick down the stairs. 

"It's  your nickname right?" Jack couldn't quite stop himself with the questions. Usually he kept to himself and avoided people, but she…  there was just something  different about her. Something that drew Jack in like a moth to a flame. 

He knew his interest was purely the result of her moving directly across the hall and appearing to be close to his age, if she had moved three flights up and was a little frilly girl, Jack was sure he wouldn't have even batted an eyelash in her direction as he carried on home. 

Shaking her head and rolling her eye, she was the one to laugh now. "No, my momma lost her first baby, who was a boy when he was real little. She ain't been right in the head since." Jack watched as she picked at the frayed edge of the side pocket of her faded army green vest while she spoke. "So when she found out she was having me, she just knew I was a boy. The doctors told her different, but she didn't really care what they thought. So she named me Billy." 

Shoving her hands into her vest pockets now, she quickly pulled out her deck of cards and began to shuffle them absentmindedly. 

"Billy's not a bad name, I mean there was Billy the kid that robbed banks in the old west right? Like some badass cowboy outlaw… Maybe one day I could live up to that name." Jack's eyes watched as she expertly flipped the cards against themselves, the loud noise filling the hallway. 

"Hate to break it to you, Billy the kid never robbed banks. He's just known for murdering people."

Peering up at him from the corner of her eye, her posture deflated, "Oh…." Billy sighed. 

They sat there in silence after that, Jack feeling some form of regret telling her about Billy the kid. The girl had seemed thrilled in her blissful unawareness, so happy with only a shared name that connected the two. Which was utterly ridiculous, and in any other circumstance Jack would have enjoyed watching the girls dreams come crashing down from the clouds. However it was like a small light had been snuffed inside of her and Jack hated that he caused that. Which blew his mind, cause why would he care about some girl he just met and her no good thoughts. She'd be gone in a few weeks, out of his life for good! The narrows would swallow her up just like it did the other kids, and he really shouldn't have cared. But he did on some level, and it fucking bothered him. 

"Billy where the fuck you at, you little piece of shit?" An angry voice screamed from just beyond the door she had been leaning against. The abruptness caused the girl to flinch and drop the stack of cards she was holding. 

They fell like dominos down the stairs, fluttering off in all sorts of directions. Making a fucking mess. 

Jack watched as she threw herself off the steps and down the stairs chasing after all the playing cards. "Fuck I'm gonna be in so much trouble." She muttered to herself as she frantically began the daunting task. 

Without much thought, Jack did something that surprised himself again. He stood up and grabbed a few of the cards that had fallen towards the top of the stairs. Bunching them together in his hand, before looking down at the Ace of hearts that was face up. The corner dog-eared like a well read book, from constant use probably. 

"I said where the fuck you at girl." A man ripped the door open to her apartment, and stumbled out. The stench of bad tequila filling the air almost immediately.

"I-im I'm sorry I…" Billy stuttered out as she crawled on the ground grabbing the last of the cards.  Her hands trembled bad enough that Jack could tell from where he stood that she was terrified. 

Eyeing the man cautiously, Jack saw him take a step closer to the edge of the stairs. His arm raised slightly, fingers twitching, ready to strike her hard when she finally made her way back to him. 

"Sorry, I tripped into Billy while I was coming down the steps. Made her drop her cards." Jack lied with a laugh, and held up the few in his hands. "I was just helping her pick them up." 

The drunken slob of a man, took a steadying breath, probably knowing he couldn't pummel a kid that wasn't his own. The man's overtly round face, covered in a patchy beard and a badly trimmed mustache that had the remnants of cheese puffs littered throughout it, gave Jack a nasty look. His lip turned up in pure disgust. 

"Yeah well watch where you fucking walk next time." He flicked his hand at Jack, and then turned his attention to Billy. Who was now standing up straight at the bottom of the landing, cards in hand. "You, " He pointed at her with a chubby accusatory finger, "pick up your goddamn mess and get in the house, and don't make me fucking tell you again." 

Jack watched as the man turned ungracefully on his heel and stumbled back from the pit in which he came. Slamming the door behind him with such power, some of the cracked plaster on the ceiling fell to the floor.

"You didn't have to lie." 

"I know." He heard her take a few hesitant steps up, until she was standing side by side with himself. "I ain't in the mood to watch an ass kicking at the moment." He couldn't stop the tiny laugh that escaped him at his own humorless joke. 

Tilting his head towards Billy, he finally held out the few cards that he managed to collect. She greedily took them back into her possession, and Jack watched as the girl seemed to be counting them to herself. Her fingers flipping past each number making sure they were all accounted for. 

"Thank you." Her voice was softer than anything Jack had ever heard as she finished what she was doing and tucked the cards back into her vest pocket. 

"He hit you a lot?" Jack asked aloud, as the girl pushed past him and towards her apartment door. 

Shrugging her shoulders, Billy nodded her head. "Not as much as my real dad did, so I'm lucky enough. I know some kids got it worse than me, so I'm not complaining."

"Lucky?" He quirked a brow at her choice of words. Luck was nowhere to be seen in the Narrows, especially not in that girls apartment. 

Perhaps the girl had been struck in the head so many times it actually made her dense. It wouldn't be a surprise to him if that was the case, because no one, and he meant no one, would ever call themselves lucky with the life she seemingly led. 

"You got to believe in something, right?" She smirked. "Luck seems more plausible than some god or a superhero saving me. Plus I got this." Reaching back into her pocket the girl drew out a single card, and quickly flicked it over to him.

Jack caught it and huffed an amused laugh. His eyes falling upon the joker card that belonged to her deck. The jester was skillfully juggling three knives while he balanced with one foot on a large green and purple circus ball. The character itself was off putting, his face painted white, his lips smudged with red paint  that made his maniacal grin even more pronounced. His jester hat constructed out of oddly colored rattlesnakes, multiple wrapped around one another to give its iconic shape. Their rattling tails hung as the bells at the tips. It was clearly far from the typical playing card one could get at the Bodega down the block. 

"It's my lucky card, bad things don't happen as often when I have it on me." 

Jack couldn't help but continue to stare at it. The wheels in his mind spun endlessly with hundreds of questions, but he knew he'd never have time to get them answered. She was on borrowed time as it was, and he didn't want to hold her up further. Cause if he did, the girl probably wouldn't be able to see at all next time he ran into her. The guy inside, smashing her other eye to the point it was swelled shut as well. 

Looking up into her eyes, Jack attempted to hand it back. But Billy just shook her head at him. 

"You keep it, it's the least I can do after you saved my ass. Maybe it will bring you some luck." She smiled at him before turning and opening her apartment door making her exit. 

"If you give me this, won't your luck be gone?" His words stopped her in her tracks. But all Jack could focus on was her soft laughter.

Without turning to face him, she pulled another card free from her pocket, twisting it expertly between two fingers so the face of it was in Jack's direction. An inverted match to the very card that he held in his hands. "There's always two jokers." 

Just as quick as she pulled it free, Billy shoved it back into her pocket, "See you around." She chuckled before disappearing into her apartment. Leaving Jack alone in the stairwell, staring quizzically at the place the girl once was. His lip twitching up in amusement, before he shook his head clear of their encounter. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The joker cracked an eye open as he startled awake. It was a rare occurrence in recent years that his dreams would startle him out of sleep. That was only reserved for a specific time in his life, and that was not now anymore. 

His half sleep blurred vision instantly focused on the ever growing water stain that was spreading across the ceiling tiles. It's dark brownish edges tainting the once white paint, giving the already run down room a greater sense of abandonment. 

His hand stretched out wantingly, his long fingers gripping into the cool sheets of the spot next to him. The spot that had been vacant for many years now. An emptiness that slowly consumed him in absolute sorrow, and then engulfed him in a burning rage, no one could ever put out. 

It was a pain that radiated through the Joker like a poison when his mind traveled to her. Pleading for him to remember, remember a time when things were pleasant. When she was by his side, and in his bed, places he could keep her safe. 

But he couldn't, the day Gotham took her from him was the day its reckoning started. They would all pay, every last one of them.

[professortennant]

Hello! If you like either of these from the kissing prompts post, I’m partial to #8 (shoulder kiss) because Hannah’s got amazing arms and shoulders and #13 (goodbye kiss) because I’m a sucker for a little angst

this was gonna be a 5 times fic and i was gonna get both of these in here but then i finished 3 and like......couldn’t bring myself to write the angsty goodbye part so INSTEAD have like 2500 words of fluff and light angst

i.

The first time she takes him to the airport, his first season as AFC Richmond’s head coach is over and she has granted him a blissful two months of reprieve from paperwork and contract negotiations. 

(“Are you sure?” he’d asked, looking at her—really looking at her—to make sure she wasn’t putting on a front for him. “Because I can help. I mean, I’m not so hot with laptop thing or the math thing, but I’m pretty good with the people thing.”

“I know,” she’d said, patting his arm gently. “But I can handle it. Go be with your boy.”

He’d let out a little yip, pressed a kiss to her cheek and practically leapt and run out of her office, calling out over his shoulder, “You’re the best boss!”)

It’s a thirty minute drive from her home to his and another hour to Heathrow and Ted spends every last one of those minutes bouncing his leg and checking and re-checking his phone, pulling up the electronic boarding pass as if making sure today was the right day and time and—

“Ted, the plane isn’t going anywhere without you on it.”

“Right, right.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket, twisting in the passenger seat beside her. It felt too impersonal to send her drive to pick him up or to allow him to hire his own driver, not after the hell she’d put him through this season. It was the smallest of steps in her journey to earn back his trust (no matter how many times he’d told her she already had it). 

“Can I tell you something?”

“I sense you will no matter what I say.”

He’d just grinned at that, hands wringing nervously in his lap. “What if too much has changed? What if I get there and Henry and Michelle have formed their own little club that I’m just not part of anymore?”

“Oh, Ted,” she’d sighed, taking her eyes off the road for just a moment to look over at him in sympathy. “That’s—that’s just not going to happen.” 

“But what if I get there and I don’t fit?”

“Ted, I don’t think there’s anywhere on this planet that you don’t fit.” He’d blushed a little at that in an aw shucks way that she found entirely too endearing. She tried to remember her promise to herself: to be more open, to be more available. Right. She adjusted her hands on the steering wheel and flicked her gaze over to him once more, just to make sure he was still listening. “My father was a very successful businessman. He traveled all over the world and was always away from home. I missed him terribly, even if I knew he wasn’t leaving because he wanted to.”

“Not really helping, boss.”

“But,” she continued, glaring at him. “Whenever he came home, it was the best day of the year. He used to gather me up into his arms and swing me around in our front garden and tell me all the stories of the places he’d been to and it wiped away every moment of missing him once he was back. I never felt like he didn’t belong back home. Not once.”

The feeling of Ted’s hand settling atop of hers on the gear shift startled her and she looked down, took in the sight of his tan, calloused hand covering hers. She made the tight turn into the drop-off lane in the Heathrow Departures section of the car park. 

“Thanks, Rebecca. Really. I mean it.”

“Yes, well, family is hard.” And this was the part that would cost her, would hurt like hell. She threw on her hazards and put the car into park. “Ted, while you’re home, I-I want you to think about your position here at Richmond.”

He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I pulled you away from your family to bring you here and I know things have changed for you, but if you need to leave, if you want to check if Wichita State will take you back while you’re home, I would understand.”

“Rebecca,” Ted said, a small smile on his face. He gripped her hand in his, tugged it into his lap and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a soothing manner. “I told you already: You and me have got unfinished business here.”

“But, your fam—”

“I’m coming back.”

When he said it like that, firm and sure and like a promise, she couldn’t help but believe him, the reassurance settling something anxious in her chest, a fear that she didn’t know she was harboring.

He leaned across the console and for the second time in two weeks, pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to the curve of her cheek, his mustache tickling her, before disappearing just as quickly, sliding out the car and ducking back in for a moment to tell her goodbye. “Thanks again for the ride.” He winked at her and then, “See you in two months.”

(About ten hours later, in the middle of the night, she received a text message from Ted: a picture of Ted and Henry in the front yard, Ted’s arms wrapped tightly around the little boy, their heads thrown back and laughing. The picture was blurred enough for her to tell that they were in motion. Ted’s accompanying message read: Thanks for the advice, boss.

She pressed the little heart reaction on each of the messages, just as Sam had shown her last week .)

ii.

 Between the start of the Championship League and Christmas, things had changed around the AFC Richmond clubhouse. Roy now wore a coach’s jacket and lanyard, scowling his way up and down the football pitch. Keeley sported a shiny ring on her left hand and a new title as Richmond’s Media and PR Director. Beard and Nate spent every waking moment attending matches across the country, absorbing the strengths and weaknesses of their opponents and working on ways to incorporate new strategies into their own game.

And over weekends spent exploring the winding cobblestone paths of London’s markets, ducking into older-than-Shakespeare bookshops together and weekends spent cooking barbecue and walking through parks, Ted and Rebecca had found somewhere along the way that they meant more to each other than just boss and gaffer, than just friends.

(He’d always assumed when it happened—if it happened—it would be in a rush of emotion after a big game or in quiet, shared comfort after a loss. But it had nothing to do with AFC Richmond, they came together on their own over a shared love of yellowed paperbacks and the bit of latte foam in his mustache and her gentle, exasperation with him, thumb swiping over his top lip and—and then her mouth on his, his hands on her hip and cradling her face, a murmured, “Finally,” against her lips.)

But tonight is Ted’s last night in London for a week, closing the gap between Boxing Day and the first week of the near year in Kansas City with Henry. They’d fallen into a devastatingly easy intimacy, one she knew she would never recover from. His flat was all but vacant now, most of his clothes and books mixed up with hers—his stack of adventure books and motivational, leadership workbooks on his side of the bed and her stack of mystery novels and Sudoku puzzles on hers, his open jar of peanut butter on her kitchen counter and her sheets smelling of his body wash.

Tonight, they sit up in bed, the soft, yellow light of their bedside lamps allowing them both to read in bed together, glasses perched on the ends of their noses. Beneath the bedsheets, Ted’s toes wiggle excitedly. 

“I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep,” he tells her, dogearing his page and putting the book away, rolling onto his side to face Rebecca. “Feels like Christmas all over again. Two Christmases, Rebecca.” 

She looks at him over the rim of her glasses, smiling ruefully at him. “You better sleep tonight or the jet lag will kill you.”

“So wise,” he teases, leaning over to press a soft kiss to her exposed shoulders. She sighed, and kissed the top of his head before returning back to her book. But Ted didn’t roll back to his side of the bed, instead tracing his fingertips along the hem of her pajama top, lips pressing once more to her shoulders, open-mouthed and enticing.

“Ted,” she warns, voice low and breathy. “What do you think you’re doing?”

His hand slides against her belly, creeping up to cup her breasts and thumb at her nipple while his mouth works over the curve of her shoulder and to her neck, nuzzling against her and encouraging her to tilt her head back to allow him better access. 

“I just thought of a very, very good way to tire myself out and get a good night’s sleep.”

“Oh did you?” She scratched her nails down his back and into his hair, holding his mouth to the place on her neck that made her legs feel like jelly.

He hummed against her skin, reaching blindly for her book to toss it off the bed and settle atop her, mouth working on the underside of her jaw and then to her mouth, kissing her hungrily.

“A week apart, Rebecca,” he gasps against her mouth, pressing his hips against hers and grinding down. “That seems an awful long time.”

She loops her arms around his neck and one leg hitches around his hips, bringing their bodies closer. “A week and then you’re coming back, right?”

She hates that she still has to ask, hates that she needs the reassurance, hates that she is terrified he will leave her behind irreparably broken.

His face softens and he traces a fingertip over her brow and nose and kisses her softly. “Coupon for life, remember, young lady? I ain’t goin’ anywhere without you.”

She presses her forehead to his and breathes him in, tightens her hold on him for a moment and memorizes the feel of him against her. And then he moves against her and it’s a rush of frenzied touches, gasps and moans, slick skin and hurried, whispered assurances. 

When she drops him off at the airport, this time with a soft kiss, and watches him disappear into the sliding double doors of Heathrow, she remembers his words: I’m coming back.

iii.

Their first fight involves raised voices and snappy words and a level of miscommunication that would make Keeley feel ashamed. It starts with a bad day for both of them—frustrating lawyers dragging their feet on salary re-negotiations and a string of vapid, mind numbing conference calls for Rebecca and a team of unmotivated, surly footballers for Ted, in-fighting and dirty scrimmage play making his blood boil. It ends with Rebecca snapping at Ted for not loading the dishwasher properly and Ted accusing her of micromanaging.

“You know what,” he growls, barely keeping a lid on his temper, can feel himself spiraling out of control. “You once told me to leave before I say something I regret and I think I better just do that.”

“Good! Go!”

She watches with a heaving chest and pounding heart as he collects his AFC Richmond puffer jacket, steps into one of his many pairs of Nikes, and storms out the front door into the evening and away from her. 

The moment his form disappears from view, her face crumples and she collapses into the kitchen chair, face buried in her shaking hands. As far as fights went, it certainly wasn’t the worst she’d ever had, her mind helpfully supplying her with flashes of the knockout-dragout fights she and Rupert had frequently engaged in, the cruelty and worst of each of them always sneaking out. 

But cruelty wasn’t in Ted’s bones and it wasn’t in hers either. She didn’t want to fight and she didn’t want to go to bed alone and angry, not after nearly a year of sleeping next to Ted every night.

She sent him a quick text: I’m sorry. Bad day at the office and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Come back home and we can talk about this.

But no response comes and all she can do is wait, pacing the front hallway, cleaning and cleaning and cleaning the kitchen. She sticks her finger into his peanut butter jar and hopes the sticky substance will help hold her heart together until he comes home. 

Maybe she’d always expected it would come to this—her ruining them, driving him away, just as Rupert had said she’d done to him. 

Not enough, Rebecca. You’re just…not enough for me.

But, she reminds herself, Ted is not Rupert. She and Ted are not she and Rupert. He’ll come back, they’ll fix this, it’ll be fine. Her head repeats it over and over again like a mantra, but her heart is stubborn and frozen in paralyzing fear.

Twenty minutes go by.

Thirty.

Forty. 

An hour later, she picks up her phone, checks it again but there are no messages from him, no indication that he’s coming back. A small, desperate sob slips out from the back of her throat and she presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing the sting of tears away.

The sound of the front door opening startles her and before she can rush into the hallway to see if it’s him, Ted stands in the sitting room before her, brambles in his hair. 

“I, uh, got a little lost walking around, got stuck in my head. And, you know, the streets look a lot different at night, so—”

But she doesn’t care if he wandered into a bush or hitchhiked home with an aardvark or whatever ridiculous adventure he’s been on in the last hour, he’s home.

She stands, throws her arms around his neck and shoulders, presses herself against him and buries her face in his neck. “I’m sorry,” she gasps into his skin. “I’m sorry.”

He shushes and soothes her, rubs his palm over her back and up over her head, slipping his fingers into her hair and stroking over and over again. “Hey, hey, none of this, okay? I’m sorry, alright? But we got through our first big fight, right? We’re okay, we’re okay.”

She holds him tighter, turns her head to kiss his neck and cheek and jaw and lips. “I was so worried you weren’t going to—” But she can’t even finish the worry, ashamed she even doubted him, some fears too deeply ingrained. 

Ted cradles her face, rubs his thumb over the curve of her cheek. “I told you, sweetheart, you got me for life. You got your listening ears on?” He reaches up to tug gently on her ears, making her smile. “Okay good, listen up: I will always come back. For as long as you want me, you got me.”

“Okay,” she sighs, turns her head into his palm and kisses the center of his hand. “Okay.”

[deliriousgeek]

Javier Pena x Reader

All conversation here is Spanish, BUT for the sake of possible mistranslation I will keep the dialogue in English. 

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: slight stalker dude, alcohol, blood, death (but not to main characters)

TBH the timeline is off but lets ignore that

Also if you wanna just skip the part with Javi, because I added some backstory, look for the bold star *

Masterlist

To say that Y/n’s day had been trying, would be an understatement. 

A group of rogue sicarios had attacked another marketplace in the morning, another warning sign to their former leader Pablo Escobar. The emergency medical clinic that Y/n worked at had taken in the gunshot victims that the main hospital wouldn’t be able to save. If the patient would survive the wound, they were taken and treated at the hospital. If the patient was nearing death, they were sent to the clinic. The worst part of it all was that the victims didn’t know they were dying. The nurses and doctors had tried to make each patient as comfortable as possible, and it was only because they knew that the patient would die. 

After a gruelling fourteen hour day that began at six in the morning, Y/n began walking to her part of the nurses’ station. She had finished attending to her last patient ten minutes ago, now she stood above a trash can as she peeled the now bloodied latex gloves off her hands. Ten minutes. A lot can be done in ten minutes. One can make a phone call to their loved one, make a purchase at the store, listen to a song or two, all in just 10 minutes. Yet Y/n had done none of those things in the last 10 minutes. In the past 10 minutes she had entered a janitor’s closet, locked the door, sat on an empty bucket, and cried. She cried and cried until the pain of unbearable loss was now an empty pit in her chest. 

Ten minutes ago she had been holding the hand of a young boy. He was almost ten by the looks of it. He had been there at the market when the sicarios began opening fire on the civilians. Y/n hadn’t even known his name. All she knew, from what the barely conscious boy had said, was that his mom was counting on him to make money to take care of his siblings. That was all the information she had on this boy. By the time the paramedics had gotten to him, he had lost so much blood that all they could do was stop the bleeding in an effort to keep him out of shock. When they had finally gotten him situated at the clinic, it was too late to save him. He was one of the last patients brought in. They had used all their blood transfusions on previous victims to make them comfortable. All Y/n could do was sit by his side as he closed his eyes for what he didn’t know would be the last time. He asked to hold her hand. He said that Y/n reminded him of his mom, and he missed his mom. Sometimes, Y/n wished she couldn’t speak or understand Spanish. The little boy’s voice still rang clear in her ears. It was one of the most heart breaking, yet endearing things she’s ever heard a person say. 

“Tell mama I’ll be home soon. I just need to rest for a while.” 

Y/n scoffed bitterly. He thought he would go home to his mom, his siblings, his family. Instead he was gone. Another casualty made by the hands of the cartel. 

Y/n took in a deep breath. A new feeling of rage had overcome her grief. If those damn cartel leaders could see the death they bring, if they could see the amount of people affected by their actions, maybe they would stop. Y/n had seen at least a hundred patients come into the clinic door that day and the only way they went out was in a body bag. To the cartel, that boy was just another number, another statistic, another dead person; to Y/n he was more than that.

He was another soul added to the lives she could have saved. 

Weighing all these thoughts made Y/n’s head hurt, and the feeling of loss began to creep its way back into her chest. She needed to clock out, and leave; and so she did. Her way back home was quiet. She didn’t turn on the radio, nor did she hum that song that was constantly in her subconscious, she simply drove home with only the noise of the thoughts in her head. Once Y/n had gotten home she slammed the door behind her and headed straight to the bathroom. She let the water run and heat up as she picked out her pajamas for the night. After peeling off her scrubs, Y/n stepped towards the shower, but not before catching sight of herself in the mirror. That made her stop. She turned to her reflection and stared. She noticed her eye bags were darker than they were when she left in the morning. Her hair was in a low bun that had bits of her hair sticking out; a sign that she had been too busy comforting patients to care what her hair looked like, it just needed to be out of her face. Her skin looked dull and her lips were chapped, but the most unrecognizable feature Y/n saw was her own eyes. They stared back at her and showed nothing but a blank stare. Y/n chalked up these observations as effects of seeing so many people die, and knowing one could do nothing about it. Blinking, Y/n stepped away from the mirror and into the shower. The warm water did little to nothing to warm the cold hollow feeling in her chest. After drying herself off and changing in to clean clothes Y/n sat herself down on the couch. A defeated breath left her lips. Her apartment was quiet, too quiet even for an apartment in a low end neighborhood in Columbia. 

* She shook her head. A quiet environment is the perfect invitation to thoughts. Y/n didn’t want those right now. So instead of letting the quietness consume her she pulled herself off the couch and into an outfit for a night out. She wanted alcohol— no —needed alcohol to stop these dark thoughts from creeping back into her head. There was a bar near her apartment that she had yet to go to. Y/n decided she would go there. With her purse hanging over her shoulder and keys in hand, Y/n locked up her apartment and headed to the bar. The bar was a short enough distance that Y/n figured it would do her some good to walk there instead of drive. To some degree, she was right, the slight breeze had cooled her off and in turn helped blow away some of the tension she was feeling. Y/n entered the bar and made her way to the back of the room where she sat down on a stool in front of the bartender who was cleaning a glass. 

“What can I get for you ma’am?”

Y/n places her purse in her lap while resting an elbow on the counter, jutting out two fingers to rest her temple on. “A neat whiskey please.”

The bartender nods and begins to make her drink. She turns from the bartender to survey the rest of the bar. There’s plenty of people occupying the tables and booths that line the walls. There’s a group playing music on stage and it seems that their music is just loud enough to distract Y/n from her thoughts. The atmosphere is bustling and a little noisy; it’s just what Y/n needs. The bartender places her drink in front of her, taking Y/n out of her stare.

“Here you are ma’am.”

She nods, “Thank you.”

She nurses her drink for a while before there’s only a few sips left. She tanks it and hails the bartender over with a wave of her hand. 

“Guaro por favor.” Y/n speaks.

The bar tender nods as he takes her now finished glass of whiskey. 

Y/n places her head in her palm, her hair falls in front of her face. Looking up, she takes a long look at the bar goers around her and closes her eyes, listening to the soft trumpet of the band that is accompanied by strums of the guitar. Her face scrunches up as the memory of the young boy's face flashes across her mind. She forces her eyes open and dismisses the memory from her head. The bartender places the shot in front of her and she thanks him. Then downs the shot, the flavor and burning sensation coats her throat. She places the glass back on the counter before asking for another. The bartender eyes her, as if questioning if he should get her another drink or not, before taking her glass and providing her with another shot of clear liquid. Y/n places the glass to her lip before swinging her head back, effortlessly taking in the alcohol once more. 

This action catches the attention of another patreon of the bar. The way she carried herself screamed confidence, but her slight frown and pale face carried a dark emotion that couldn’t be described. She had just placed the glass of her second shot on the counter when Javier excused himself from his drinking buddies and made his way over to the bar. Truth be told, he had been watching her since she walked in the doors, and he wasn’t the only one who had taken interest in the lonely women taking shots alone. However, he was determined he would be the first to talk to her. Luckily the stool next to her wasn’t taken, so he sat himself down next to her. His arm propped himself up as he leaned on the counter, his body facing her. 

A charming smile worked it’s way onto his face. “Hola.” He spoke, testing if she spoke Spanish.

Y/n noticed the greeting and side glanced at him, wary. “Hola.” She replied.

“I’m a regular at this bar. I’ve never seen you here before.”

Y/n turned her head to look at him. He was a nicely dressed man. Dark hair, dark mustache, tan skin and a leather jacket to match his raspy voice. 

“It’s my first time here.” She dismisses his smile and looks forward. 

Just as his lips open are about to say something else, Y/n speaks again. 

“I’m not interested.” Her voice is quipped.

Javier’s eyebrows slightly lift and he is, albeit, a little bit stunned. His head cocks to the side and his lip quirks up into a stunned smile. Then he nods, lifting his hands up to signal surrender, before lowering them back down and leaning towards Y/n. “Well, then I’ll leave you to it, newcomer. But for the record, I also came over to tell you that the guy in the corner with the white cowboy hat on,” He nods to the back of the room near the stage. 

Y/n follows his gaze. Sure enough a man with a white cowboy hat on sits with his legs splayed out, angled towards them. He wears a long sleeve shirt and a leather vest, with cowboy boots to match. 

“Has been eyeing you for the past ten minutes,” Javier leans towards Y/n’s ear. “and he doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” With that, he stands up from the stool and heads back to the table with his buddies. 

Y/n is left slightly wide eyed, and now more cautious of the man staring at her from behind. Suddenly feeling self-conscious and uncomfortable, Y/n asks for her check. She pays and leaves. The walk home is again, accompanied by a slight breeze, something Y/n is thankful for to cool off her now warmed skin. She walks in silence for a bit longer, listening to the nightlife of her town. Y/n relishes in the feeling of the alcohol in her system before listening to her surroundings once more. She can hear families eating dinner, friends partying, dogs barking, children playing under the street lights, but then a noise catches her off guard. She hears footsteps, heavy foot steps. Taking note of the area she’s in, it’s normally a fairly frequented place. To get to her apartment she has to walk through the town square, which, at this time of night is usually filled with some people, but not tonight. The only things keeping her company are the street lights, the slight buzz of alcohol starting to take effect and the approaching footsteps. A flight feeling of unease fills Y/n’s stomach as she remembers the man who was staring at her in the bar, and the words of warning from the leather jacket clad man, “He doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Not wanting to take any chances, even if the footsteps are of a passer by, Y/n quickens her pace, only to hear that the person behind her quickens their pace as well. At the noise Y/n’s heartbeat quickens and she sobers up just enough to understand she could be in danger. She briskly walks down a road lined with houses before turning a corner, then another corner, then another. She’s straying off the path to home a little, but if it meant losing whoever could possibly be following her then it might be better. Y/n stops and waits, ear straining to listen around the corner for the same heavy footsteps. 

It’s quiet. Y/n lets out a breath relief, then, all too soon, the footsteps are back. However this time, they’re closer. 

Y/n’s eyes widen at the realization, she’s being followed and whoever it is knows where she is. Quickly looking around for anything she could possibly use as a weapon, Y/n spots some rocks on the ground. Her eyes flit to the rocks then to her purse, before she hastily gathers the rock in her purse and fastens the purse cover tight. Her breathing is quickens. The footsteps are closer maybe right around the corner. Y/n straightens herself against the wall of the building and holds her purse by the straps above her shoulder as she listens. She tries to slow her breaths and watches the bottom of the wall corner. The footsteps are louder, closer, right next to her. Then, as soon as she sees the tip of the person’s shoe peep around the corner, she swings. 

“Shit!” A raspy cry rings about as the shoe disappears around the corner once more. 

Y/n pulls herself from around the corner, bag still raised and ready to swing again as she takes in the scene in front of her. In the dim light she sees her pursuer stumbling backwards with two hands cradling his nose. She observes his clothes. She looks at his head, no cowboy hat. She looks at his torso, no leather vest. Then her eyes roam down his legs, no cowboy boots.

Instead of the ensemble she expected, Y/n is met with combed dark brown hair, a mustache, leather jacket and jeans. 

“What the hell was that for?” The man accusingly raises his voice, still hissing as he tries to nurse his nose. 

“Why the hell are you following me?” Y/n shoots back with the same tone. She hopes she left a bruise.

“Because that creep with the hat got up and left the bar after you did!” The man flails one arm behind him as if gesturing to another person as he covers his nose with the other. 

Y/n’s eyes widen. “Oh.” She realizes her mistake. Then she realizes the man has been holding his nose for too long for his injury to be a bruise. “Shit. I’m so sorry.” She lowers her bag and places it back across her body. “Let me look at your nose.”

She steps forward to help, then he steps back, holding out a hand. 

“Look lady, you’re the one that caused this. I don’t think I really trust you enough to not break it even further.” His delivery is terse. He doesn’t look at her when he speaks, eyes squinting in pain. 

Y/n rolls her eyes. “I’m a woman walking home alone at night, I think you can understand my reason for being defensive.”

When the only reply she gets from the man is a hiss as he tries to touch his nose, testing the injury, she speaks again, but this time a in a more gentle tone.

“And I’m a nurse. I won’t break your nose.”

Javier lets out a puff of a laugh, almost a scoff. “Pretty sure you just did.”

Y/n sighs at his stubbornness. “Look, if your nose is broken then you’re going to need immediate attention. If it’s not, then all you’ll need is an ice pack. Okay? So let me look at it and then we can be on our separate ways.”

Javier opens his eyes at this. He squints at her, then slowly nods. “Okay. Deal.”

“Good.” 

Y/n leads him back to the town square where there is better light. She makes him sit down on the fountain edge so she can observe his nose from above. Now that she has a better look at it, she takes in the bruises already starting to form. Her face scrunches and she feels guilt in her chest. 

“So? Is it broken or not?” Javier impatiently inquires.

Y/n only nods, feeling too guilty to retort with his attitude. “Unfortunately, yes. It is broken. You need some medical attention right away.”

Javier looks at her with a cocked head. “I’d say I’m getting some pretty good medical attention right now.” His eye brow lifts as a smirk appears on his face.

Y/n is startled at his brazen attempt at flirting, before her eyes narrow. “I broke your nose. I will not hesitate to break another body part of yours as well.”

Javier lets out a breathy chuckle. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop.”

Y/n nods before speaking. “The emergency clinic is still open. C’mon, I’ll take you.” She begins to walk away. 

Javier stands up and takes long strides to catch up with her. 

“Why are you trusting me?”

Y/n stops. “What?” She turns to him.

“Just a few minutes ago I was following you. Now you’re all of a sudden very comfortable with walking me to the clinic. How do you know I didn’t make up that whole thing about that creep following you out of the bar just so you wouldn’t suspect me of anything?” There is a teasing lilt to his voice. 

Without breaking eye contact, Y/n reaches down for her purse and holds it up so that Javier could see it. “I’m not trusting you. As a nurse I took an oath to heal those around me. However, that doesn’t mean I will hesitate to use this should you make me uncomfortable again. Is that clear?”

A playful smile makes its way onto Javier’s lips. “Crystal clear ma’am.”

Posted on 12/7/20

Part 2 at the clinic anybody?

Translations: 

sicarios: hired mercs/men of the cartel

guaros: Columbian nickname for a type of alcohol

[votederpycausemufins]

Alright, I got the second part of my vaccine, also got tested for the virus by my school (randomly chosen and it just so happened to be the same day as my vaccine appointment), safely met with my family, and then I’m like 50ish% sure I threw my back out? but it’s my upper back and not lower which is why I’m not sure.

So yeah, chapter is a bit short, but I wanted to get one out today.

@petrichormeraki @helleborusangel​

Mumbo tried to ignore everyone talking as he worked with Grumbot. He was using the handkerchief he normally kept on him to clean the redstone from his hands to clean up the robot. He had gotten a bit of the water that had been left in Tommy’s inventory to make the cloth damp and started carefully washing everything off Grumbot’s body, though some redstone was left behind. He frowned at how much was coming off onto the cloth and the fact that he needed to clean that off too. 

Slowly but surely, all the grime was washing off and being replaced with shiny metal. There were still dents and cracks, but just cleaning the robot up helped as an improvement. Mumbo dried any spots that were still wet to make sure no water got into Grumbot’s circuits before standing up and stretching, having been in an awkward pose to clean everything up with Grumbot refusing to do anything but stay curled up in a ball.

“How’s he doing?” Phil asked as Mumbo walked over.

“”Well, he’s clean at the very least. I don’t have anything to work on physical repairs and I’m terrified about what I’ll see when checking on the circuitry.” Mumbo looked around at the group. “Techno’s still not here?”

Phil shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything. It’s getting to the point I’m starting to worry. But trying to find him with everything going on won’t be the easiest thing. So we just hope he sends something back on where he is or wait until we can’t wait anymore.”

Mumbo nodded, and then the two of them were surprised as they got messages sent to their communicators.

[Eyes] X-T, Y-T, Z-T

“Do you think that’s-” Mumbo started.

“Techno’s coordinates? Possibly. So far whatever this is has been sending us help.”

“Take EX with you? I of course should be staying back here for Jrum.”

“I’ll probably be fine on my own.”

“He’ll make the trip faster. And if something is wrong, better to save time.”

The avian ended up relenting and walked over to talk to the helsmit. In a matter of seconds the two of them were gone and Mumbo went back over to Grumbot. He winced at the sparks that flew from the holes in Grumbot’s torso. Obviously he needed to at least get a look at what was going on in there. His hand moved to turn Grumbot off, but just before he could press the power button, he was stopped. “Please don’t.”

“Grum?” Mumbo asked quietly, not completely sure he heard Grumbot speak with how quiet the words were.

“C-can’t turn off. Th-that would b-be bad. N-No admin.”

Mumbo immediately pulled his hand away. That was right. Theseus had disappeared with Dream, so for now Grumbot being the console was likely the one thing keeping this world stable. Mumbo also quickly plugged Grumbot in to make sure it didn’t run out of power.

“Do you need anything?”

“I don’t know h-how to answer th-that.”

“Why not?”

“I-It’s confusing. And I-I’m tired.”

“Do you want to go into sleep mode?”

“I… I shouldn’t n-need s-sleep. O-only need b-battery.”

Mumbo hugged Grumbot. “It’s okay if you go to sleep. No one will get upset at you.”

Grumbot shook it’s head. “Need to f-fix first. T-Tommy not a-awake. Sh-should be. A-And f-fix t-time. C-can’t without-”

Mumbo held Grumbot closer. “You don’t need to do anything except rest. You’ve been through a lot, both you and your brother.”

“H-had to h-hurt him to h-help him. K-keep him a-away. D-didn’t know what w-was happening. Didn’t know wh-what else to do.”

“Well…” Mumbo wasn’t sure what to say. Jrum obviously hadn’t had the best experience while stuck here, but it wasn’t as bad as what happened to Grumbot. And for all the redstoner knew, Jrum could have ended up in the same situation as his brother if nothing had been done. “While  I don’t… fully approve with the methods… at the very least your brother is not… the worst he could be.”

Grumbot gave a slight nod before speaking again. “Is th-there anything you w-want Console to do?”

“What do you mean?” Mumbo asked, curious by the phrasing.

“What th-things need to b-be done?”

Mumbo frowned. “Grum, you don’t need to do anything. Please just go to sleep.”

There was a pause from Grumbot as it processed what was said, then went into sleep mode. Mumbo sighed in relief as he could feel Grumbot relax in his arms. He put the robot back down on the bed and tucked it in before checking on Grian and Jrum. After making sure they were all asleep, he collapsed in a chair.

“Are you doing okay?” Mumbo looked up to see someone who, because he was so tired, he thought was himself for a split second. 

“Tired. But to be completely honest, I’ve been more exhausted dealing with those three. I’m the one with impulse control. Not to be confused with The Impulse Control that Zed has. Hmm… maybe I’m more tired than I think. Have you ever tried a mustache?”

“I… don’t think I can grow one.”

Mumbo nodded. “Alright. What’s your name?”

“Ranboo.”

“The one Tubbo was worrying about, right?” Mumbo asked, but then didn’t give Ranboo a chance to answer. “And what does Tommy think of you?”

“I’m pretty sure we’re friends. Maybe. I tried what I could to keep him company. Even though I couldn’t be there.”

“Sounds good enough to me. Still unsure about him.” Mumbo gestured to Bad. “And what about him?”

“Uhh, I’m not sure to be honest. And I don’t think I would have it written down.”

Mumbo tilted his head slightly, trying to ignore the fact that just doing that made him feel a little dizzy. “Why would you need to write it down?”

“I don’t really have the best memory of things, so I write everything important to make sure I can’t lose it.”

“Well maybe you can visit and can get checked out in Hermitcraft. See if someone there can help you.”

Ranboo nodded, then was distracted as Michael came over and reached for his hand before pulling him away. Mumbo watched as the two left, Michael excited about seeing Techno, who had just arrived with Xannes. Philza didn’t seem to be back, which was mildly concerning, but at this point, the redstoner was a bit too tired to care and fell asleep.

Grian woke up with a start. He hadn’t quite had a nightmare, more just something in the dream startled him awake. He shifted slightly and realized that he was still holding Jrum in his arms, who was also asleep.

Carefully, the avian pulled away and got out of bed, making sure Jrum didn’t wake up. He looked over at the other beds and was glad to see it seemed Tommy had moved. The other bed was empty however, which worried Grian. He looked around more and found Mumbo asleep in a chair, but also without Grumbot.

There were voices from an adjacent room, and Grian was hoping his other son would be there. He tiptoed to not wake the others up, then peeked into the next room. Everyone was gathered around and talking. Well, Xannes was off to the side reluctantly playing with a Ziglin, but that was the only exception. The avian looked around a second time. He didn’t see Grumbot anywhere, and it looked like Phil was gone but Techno was in his place.

Techno. Grian didn’t care if they were related or not. He had been the one to cause this whole mess by killing his kids. And now one of them was missing again and here he was. For the second time that week, Grian had a sword to the piglin’s neck. He had moved fast enough that everyone jumped back in surprise at his sudden appearance.

“What is it this time?” He said in a bored tone which made Grian even angrier. Instead of saying anything, he just swung the sword, cutting into Techno’s arm. He attempted a second swing, but he was pulled back from behind by Xannes, leaving the avian flailing for escape, wings hitting just about anything they could.

“Calm down or I’ll break one of your arms.” The helsmit threatened as he managed to get Grian pinned on the ground. He then looked up at Techno. “Any clue why he’s acting like this?”

“He kidnapped Phil who said he was a Watcher. I went after Phil and made a few withers to get his attention. People started attacking, I attacked back. They were collateral. Didn’t realize they wouldn’t respawn right.”

“More like you didn’t care.” Grian growled from the ground. “First both the boys, then you were threatening NPG, and now you’re here and Grum isn’t!”

“What do you mean he isn’t here?” Bad asked, cutting into the conversation. “No one’s gone in or out of that room since we all came out here. Well, until you of course.”

“Then you weren’t paying attention.” Grian accused, but Tubbo stopped him.

“No, we’ve all been watching in case someone woke up, especially with what Techno found.”

“Found a way to kill my kids again?” Xannes sighed and twisted Grian’s arm a bit. The avian yelped at the sudden pain, and for a moment the helsmit was glad it seemed to have shut him up, before Grian managed to swipe his leg to make Xannes fall to the ground and pin him instead.

“Can you at least first hear what we found out? We think it’s related to Tommy’s condition.” Tubbo tried to offer, knowing that Grian seemed to like Tommy almost as much as the bots.

Grian hesitated, but then nodded. “Okay fine, but make it quick. I already saw you got him to move.”

“Wait, what do you mean he moved?” Tubbo asked, quickly moving to the extension room.

“Well he’s on his side now.” Grian explained, following behind, flaring his wings out when he felt crowded from behind as the others rushed to follow as well.

“Well we didn’t do that.” Tubbo said, going over to Tommy. “Oh, and looks like it might not have been Tommy either.” He looked back over to the avian. “Well it looks like you don’t have to panic about Grum anymore. He’s right here.”

Grian closed his wings back up so he could get over to Tubbo and Tommy. Once he got closer, he was able to see Grumbot curled up in the teen’s arms. The moment he saw the robot, Grian sighed, glad that nothing else bad had happened. He also then glanced back to Jrum to make sure he was still there, glad to see he was.

“See, everything’s alright.” Tubbo said, even though Grian could tell that wasn’t entirely true.

“What did you find out about Tommy then?”

Everyone left the sleeping area again to talk. “I went to check on my place when we got back.” Techno started to explain. “Not many people knew about it, so went to see if anyone was hiding there. It’s far off, so it could have been used as a hideout. Turns out I was right, and someone was there. But not willingly.”

“And that would be?” Grian asked, looking at the others to see if their expressions would tell him anything.

“After Wilbur died, he came back as a ghost, though it didn’t quite act like him. Preferred the name Ghostbur over Wilbur too. Well, he was there, but alive. And he wasn’t Wilbur. He was just an alive version of Ghostbur. Somehow he got revived and was in my house when it happened. Since then, he hasn’t been able to get out, no matter what he tries. He says it’s like an invisible wall.”

“And what’s that got to do with Tommy?”

“Obviously Ghostbur didn’t show up at his body, or else he wouldn’t be in my house. Tommy lost his last life before being revived, so there’s a good chance he’s in the same situation and we just have his body.”

“Then where is Tommy?”

“I can’t hit the button! It’s gonna crush me!” Tommy yelled out, unable to stop the flying machine he was currently in.

“Mine out the back!” Zedaph yelled, making Tommy realize that, yes, he could do that. He pulled out a pickaxe and broke through the pistons, slime blocks and observers, escaping just before the machine would have crushed him between itself and whatever was keeping him stuck. 

“Okay, your drill didn’t work.”

“Hmm, really thought that one would do it.” Zed replied, looking down at a napkin he had written a list on and crossed out one of the items. “Well! Next up we’re going to need some cows.”

“I do not want death by cow.”

“But they’re the perfect size for it.” Zedaph pouted, but crossed another thing off the list.

“Just give me the next idea!”

“Okay, so we’re just going to need you to use some minor telekinetic powers-”

There was an interruption as Scar arrived in tow with Cub. “Okay, I picked up all the magic crystals I think might be able to help. If that doesn’t work, Cub and I are fully prepared to try some vex magical shenanigans.”

“I’m not a fan of the word shenanigans, but whatever, let’s fucking try it!”

From there, the various hermits tried a number of ideas to get Tommy out, but none of them seemed to work. At the very least they learned that he could go into the minecart tunnel and all the way to Mumbo’s hobbit hole without trouble as well as the fact that Tommy seemed to be the only one affected, but it still wasn’t ideal. 

A few hermits stayed around to keep Tommy company, which he was very glad for. A few small minigames were built to help pass the time. Since the situation with the bots meant Tommy had missed out on HHH, Ren started using some unused questions from the day as well as getting Tommy’s answers for what he had asked. From there it just dissolved into a bit of storytelling.

For the most part, Tommy just listened to the stories, but when he was offered to tell one of his own, he passed up on the offer, asking for some time to think of a good one. While the others started talking, he tried thinking of something to share when he realized something. “Guys… I… I don’t have a fucking clue when I got here.”

They asked for clarification and Tommy explained that thinking back, he couldn’t remember anything from his exile or the first few weeks he was in Hermitcraft. Except for a few short bits of memory, he had nothing. He tried to calm the other hermits down by mentioning Ghostbur had the same thing happen, but that only seemed to make them more worried.

Just about everyone stayed over that night no matter how much Tommy wanted them to not stay just for pity, but he ended up enjoying the impromptu sleepover. Though it was still in the back of his mind, just having the hermits there for him made things feel a bit more normal.

Grumbot stared at [:)]. He should be awake but he wasn’t. The revival didn’t seem to have worked and it wasn’t sure why. So it asked for more help, but then was upset when none was given. Well, the staying near [:)] suggestion was repeated, but it could very clearly see that just being in proximity to [:)] was not doing anything.

It glanced up briefly as [:)] came near. It couldn’t quite see them, but the listed coordinates for them matched their current position. [:)] came near afterwards, Grumbot able to see the edges of his red feathers for a moment. They talked about it and [:)] for a moment before leaving again, and then it could hear them discussing Ghostbur. It sounded like that revival mostly worked, though there seemed to be an issue with it. Grumbot frowned at that, wishing it had known about this sooner. It would need to find Ghostbur to fix the situation and then proceed to fix [:)].

Grumbot tried to move, but was stopped. It needed to stay near [:)]. It argued that this was not helping [:)]. The answer was that it wasn’t supposed to be helping [:)], it was supposed to be helping Grum. But Grumbot didn’t care. Grum was not in charge. He was just supposed to work his programs. It, on the other hand, was meant to run this world and keep everything in order. And that included fixing the revivals.

[spacesuitsforemergency]

Bug Bros

Word Count: 2.4k

Requested by @lina-lovebug: Jaime Reyes x Parker! Fem! Reader? They both have a cruch on eachother and Tye and Ed and Barr tease him a lot about it, and always wonder why he doesn't just ask her out. Jaime just doesn't want to start a long distance since she lives in New York, but when she becomes part of the Young leaguers, now he has no excuse. They go out on a first date, which ends abrupt cuz his friends ended up following him. She kisses him anyway and he walks her back to Mt. Justice.

“Dude, staring at her isn’t gonna do anything.” Eduardo snickered at Jaime.

“There’s this thing called talking, you should try that with her.” Tye shook his head as he tossed the guys a soda, sitting down in the Mount Justice lounge with them.

“Shut up, guys!” Jaime groaned, face burning red.

You and your teammates, Peter Parker and Sam Alexander, were here in Rhode Island on official S.H.I.E.L.D business. This wasn’t your first visit here, so nobody was surprised when none of you had really paid attention to the debriefing back at S.H.I.E.L.D (as per usual), so the trip was taking longer than expected (as per usual). Your twin brother, Peter, was currently trying to work out some sort of deal with Black Canary, you and Sam were not listening. You were both bored, and eventually snuck off to the lounge, where some of the Outsiders were chilling.

“Guys mind if we crash here?” Sam asked them, sitting down next to Bart without an answer.

“Sure.” Tye mumbled sarcastically at him.

“So what do you guys do to avoid meetings around here?” You asked as you leaned against the back of the couch behind Jaime, eyes on the tv, which was currently playing Remember the Titans. Jaime’s eyes widened and he stiffened with how close you were to him, and his friends noticed.

“Usually just run the other direction.” Bart said through a mouthful of chips.

“What’s your meeting about, anyways?” Eduardo asked.

You and Sam both shrugged.

“How many times do we have to visit you guys for you to know we never know what’s going on?” You grinned.

“Yeah, we just follow Web Heads lead.” Sam stole a handful of chips from Bart. “It’s funny how you think we take our job seriously.”

Everyone looked at the both of you, concerned.

“We’re kidding, we take it seriously.” You reassure them. “Just nothing to do with...business meetings.”

“Nova! H/N! Get back here!” Spider Man ordered you. Sam rolled his eyes and took one last handful of chips before putting his helmet on and flying over.

“See ya later, Bug Bro.” You ruffled Jaime’s hair before shooting a web and swinging back over. Jaime’s face was now bright red, and he was clutching his soda can so tight his knuckles turned white. Eduardo and Tye started snickering at him, Jaime throwing his empty soda can at them in retaliation It didn’t affect either of them the way Jaime wanted it to, and they kept laughing at him.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Bart asked.

“Because.” Jaime crossed his arms and pouted.

“It’s a simple resolution, dude.” Tye picked up the soda can and tossed it back at him teasingly.

“Just ask her out, amigo!” Eduardo shouted a little too loud. Thankfully, you were too busy getting scolded by Black Canary and Batman to hear. “She obviously likes you, and even a deaf and blind man would know you like her!”

“I can’t ask her out, guys!” Jaime snapped at them, now actually angry. Now they stopped laughing and looked at him, concerned.

“Dude, whats up?” Tye asked his best friend.

“Looks, she lives all the way in New York. I live in El Paso.” Jaime sighed. “There’s no way it would work.”

“But you’re mostly here.” Bart tried to reassure him. “Rhode Island isn’t too far from New York.”

“Asami lives in Japan, we still make it work.” Tye added.

“Asami doesn’t live in Japan. She moved here last week. Don’t think I don’t remember.” Jaime mumbled.

“But before that we had a long distance thing.”

“For like a month while she sorted stuff out with her parents.” Jaime scoffed. “Y/N lives in New York. She’s not moving anytime soon.”

“So...you like her, but you’re not willing to even give long distance a try?” Eduardo raised an eyebrow.

“Well that makes me sound like el huevón, dude!” Jaime snapped. “Look, it just won’t work, okay? Would you guys just drop it?”

The boys all glanced at each other, shocked at Jaime’s outburst. He was always so chill, would hardly even yell at villains, so they almost didn’t recognize him when he was angry. Even Tye didn’t, and he’s known the guy since middle school.

“What’s the ups, dudes? Change the channel, games on.” Virgil waltzed in, snatching the remote from the coffee table.

Virgil didn’t notice the tense atmosphere until his team scored, and he went to high five Jaime, and didn’t get a response.

“Uhh...don’t leave me hangin, bro!” Virgil said, then finally looked at the other boys’ faces. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Jaime grumbled, getting up and walking out to the balcony.

“What’s his deal?” Virgil asked. “I didn’t think it was physically possible for him to be angry...”

“I’ll go talk to him.” Tye rushed after Jaime.

He walked out to the balcony, Jaime sitting on the rail and mumbling to himself, something he often did when he was nervous. Tye would often catch him doing this before math tests or trying a complicated skateboard trick.

“Talk to me, man.” Tye leaned against the railing, resting his chin on his hand.

“I really like her.” Jaime said, just above a whisper. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, you can either tell her and try, or never tell her and miss your chance forever.” Tye said nonchalantly, staring out at the city.

“Wow. That makes me feel better.” Jaime chuckled.

“Hey, you can always count on me to be real with you.” Tye nudged him lightly.

“That I can.” Jaime playfully shoved him.

“So? What are you gonna do?” Tye raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure yet.”

•

“Bug Bro!” You shouted, before jumping onto Jaime’s back. He yelped, quickly straightening up and holding onto the backs of your legs to keep you up.

“Warn me next time?” He asked, grinning up at you and you leaned over his shoulder to see his face.

“Sorry.” You laughed, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I have news, bro.”

“What is it, bro?” He asked as he continued making his way towards the kitchen for some lunch.

“Fury gave the green light, I’m joining the Outsiders!” You beamed excitedly.

“What? Really?” Jaime asked, eyes widening in shock.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be a counselor too.” You smiled.

“Why aren’t you staying in New York?” He asked as you hopped off his back and walked next to him.

“I need a change of scenery.” You shrugged. “Some space from my brother. I love him and all, but he never lets me do a lot on missions. Thinks I’ll get hurt or whatever.”

“Is it permanent?” He asked curiously.

“Nothings permanent, Jaime.” You giggled. “But maybe. I do want to help people more directly. I love my team but I just don’t have that kind of opportunity with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Yeah...S.H.I.E.L.Ds kinda scary.” Jaime rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Well, I’m glad to have you on the team, Y/N.”

“Now I’ll be with my Bug Bro all the time!” You grinned, elbowing him playfully.

“Yeah! Totally.” He grinned nervously.

•

“Dude, what do I even say?” Jaime hyperventilated as he paced back and forth in front of Bart and Tye.

Tye and Bart didn’t really get along, they tolerated each other, but thy weren’t best buds. But when Jaime needed help, they would stop the bickering and work together.

“You got the hard part over with.” Tye shrugged. “She said yes to the date.”

“I know. I thought that was the hard part, turns out it’s not.” Jaime said as he checked himself in the mirror for the thousandth time. “Now I gotta actually make sure she likes me?”

“Well...Yeah?” Bart blinked at his homie. “Dude, just be yourself.”

“But a little less nervous.” Tye added.

“And maybe stop sweating.” Bart nodded.

“Quit worrying about your hair, it hasn’t moved since 2008.”

“Try to flirt a little more.”

“But not too much, you don’t want to come off as an idiot.”

“But you said be myself! None of those things is myself!” Jaime shouted at his friends.

“Be yourself...but calm.” Bart instructed.

“How am I supposed to be calm? I-“

“Dude! You’re late!” Tye yelled when he saw the time, 7 minutes past when Jaime was supposed to leave to pick you up.

“Shit!” Jaime snatched his keys from the dish on the side table. “See you guys later! But what if I mess this up-“

“Go!” Tye and Bart both yelled. Jaime stuck his tongue out at ten before rushing out to his car.

Bart and Tye sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, blankly staring at the tv.

“Wanna follow him?” Bart grinned.

“Oh yeah.” Tye nodded. “Let me call for reinforcements.”

•

“...and then Danny punched a hole trough the wall and hit Sam on accident.” You giggled as you finished a story about your teammates.

“Isn’t Danny supposed to be the chill one?” Jaime chuckled.

“Apparently.” You shrugged. “To be fair, he had a reason to be mad.”

“I suppose. So-“ Jaime opened his mouth to ask another question, but froze when he saw something: a few tables back and on the row across from them, he saw Tye, Bart, Eduardo and Virgil wearing sunglasses, fake mustaches and their hoods. He instantly glared at them, motioning discreetly for them to leave.

“What are you-?” You turned to look where he was.

“Wait Wait Wait!” Jaime shouted, a little too loudly, gaining the attention of several other customers. He smiled nervously and cleared his throat. “Um...you mentioned earlier a time when Sam crash landed into the White House?”

“Oh yeah!” You laughed, and began the story.

Jaime wanted to pay attention, he really did, but he couldn’t take his focus off his idiot friends. First of all he couldn’t believe Tye agreed to the ‘disguises’. Second of all, he couldn’t believe they were spying on him! Had they no regard for privacy and personal space?? Okay, so, maybe he did believe it.

‘Jaime Reyes, I advise you to focus on the Y/N Parker. She may grow angry if she discovers you are not listening. Shall I activate and obliterate the Tye Longshadow, Bart Allen, Eduardo Dorado Jr and Virgil Hawkins so you may focus properly on the Y/N Parker’s story?’ The Scarab asked.

“No! No obliteration!” Jaime mumbled.

“Is the Scarab talking to you?” You asked curiously.

“Yeah, sorry. He’s been yapping in my ear, it’s hard to concentrate.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Oh. Well, we can leave if you want.” You smiled and waved over the waitress for the check.

“Please, let me.” Jaime set down his credit card before you could even open your wallet.

“Come on, you drove us here.” You sigh as the waitress took his credit card.

“It’s no trouble, really.” He shook his head. “It’s my fault this is ending so abruptly, it’s the least I can do.”

Once the waitress came back with his card he led to back out to his car, glaring at his friends as you passed the table. They all snickered, quickly paying their bill and piling into Virgil’s car.

“Where’d they go?” Bart asked as he leaned forward, between Virgil and Tye.

“Uh...there!” Eduardo pointed ahead. “¡Dale!”

Virgil stepped on it, following close behind Jaime’s black car. Tye looked at his phone when a text alert went off, seeing a text from Jaime: Quit following me! You’re all dead!

Tye just snickered, before responding with: wow, texting and driving? Not cool, man.

They followed Jaime’s car all the way back to Mount Justice, Eduardo and Bart bickering as they tried to see between the front seats, shoving each other. Virgil parked far behind them, just close enough to be able to see.

You were clueless to the car full of idiots as Jaime walked you up to the entrance. Jaime was well aware, and worried that you would notice them.

‘Jaime Reyes, get her inside quick. Once the door shuts we shall obli-‘

“Scarab, Stop!” Jaime scolded.

“He’s still chatty?” You giggled at Jaime as you reached the doors.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You can’t help that the alien parasite attached to you is talkative.” You smile up at him, making him laugh. “Uh...I had a really good time. Even if it was cut short.”

“Yeah, me too.” He smiled back at you, equally as nervous and awkward.

You both stood there for a few moments, not sure what to do next.

“What are they doing?” Eduardo asked as he shoved Batt aside to see better.

“They’re just standing there.” Virgil shook his head. “Is this dude really not smooth at all?”

“Trust me, hasn’t been smooth ever since we were kids.” Tye shook his head. “Doesn’t have a smooth bone in his body.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure your bones are smooth-Ow! What?” Bart rubbed his arm where Eduardo punched him.

“Come on, Jaime, do something.” Virgil groaned, starting to get second hand embarrassment for the guy.

Jaime knew he wanted to kiss you, but was it what you wanted? Would you yell at him? Not return it? Never lack to him ever again? Luckily, his anxious thoughts were interrupted when you suddenly craned your neck up to be able to press your lips to his. It was a quick peck on the lips, just to test the waters. He pulled you in for another kiss, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to lift yourself up a little higher.

“Finally!” Tye shouted, probably loud enough for the both of you to hear if you weren’t so busy.

“Oh, gross! I said kiss, not suck face!” Virgil pretended to gag.

“Dang, they’re really going at it.” Bart mumbled.

“You guys ruin the mood.” Eduardo shook his head. “Is this what it’s like to date you?”

“First of all, watching someone suck face is way different than sucking face.” Tye said.

“Quit saying ‘suck face’.” Eduardo cringed.

“Second of all, I am a delight to date.”

“Ha!” Virgil snorted, then slapped his hand over his mouth when Tye sent him a death glare. “I mean...yeah dude, who wouldn’t date you? You’re just so...lovely.”

“Uh...guys...Jaime’s coming for us.” Bart warmed.

“Crap! Start the car! Start the car!” Eduardo shrieked as Jaime activates his Blue Beetle suit, flying at them with the thirst for revenge in his eyes.

[thesetrashimagines]

The Man

A Peaky Blinders imagine (reader insert)

Warnings: fighting, blood, bullet wounds, swearing, murder.

GIF is not mine!

Summary: Accidentally busting into a bar while trying to finish a job may not have been the smartest idea.

Pt.2

  You knew they were on your trail, it was part of the plan. And it was going perfectly. What you didn't expect was for one them to be in a car, driving straight for you. Thinking fast you looked for some kind of cover. Seeing a pair double doors, you made a run for them and honestly in the moment you weren't thinking about who or what was on the other side.

  Throwing the doors open and slamming them behind you, you rushed to the side and waited for the shadowy figures belonging to your targets to enter. It didn't take long which you were greatful for, means that you would get to go home sooner, the group of 3 men walked into the bar. Being behind them gave you an advantage, pulling out some piano wire you threw yourself onto the back of one them. He wasn't able to get his fingers underneath the wire making his death come quickly. The other two men turned around to the sounds of their partner yelling and as soon as the body hit the floor they pounced.

Ducking down from most their collective swings, you scrambled towards one of the tables, there was a bottle on it. Picking it up you turned and saw the bigger man of the two come towards you. Spinnig the bottle in your hand, you rose your brows and gestured your arms out in a 'come on and get me' kind of way. The man barrelled forward and threw a hard punch, hitting you in jaw, you staggered to the side and swung the bottle right onto the back of his bald head, he stumbled before you pulled the back of his collar exposing his chest where you plunged the broken end of the bottle into his right breast. You turned the two of you around and faced the other man, his eyes widened at the scene in front of him. Taking his moment of stun, you pushed the bald man forward into the arms of the smaller man, knocking him over with a loud thud as he hit the floor, this action obvisously drove the broken bottle further into the bald man which caused him to cry out in pain.

Neither man can move now, the smaller man started babbling while the bald one was crying. Pulling out the knife from your shoe you waltzed over to the stacked bodies. "We all know why this is your fate," Spitting out blood you continued, "stop making so much fucking noise."

Leaning over them you stabbed the knife into the smaller man's neck before grabbing the bald man's hand and telling him to hold it there, he was trying to fight agaisnt you but you could tell that he was getting weaker with every shift he made. "The more you move the more you bleed." He stopped moving, "You wont die from that bottle unless I want you to." The man started crying again. Grabbing one of the chairs closest to you, you sat down. "You throw a good punch by the way." His hand slipped off the knife's slick handle. "What did I say to do?" He finally tried to speak.

"Please let me go......how was I suppose to know?" Standing with a sigh you walked back over to the man and gently placed your hands on his neck. "Don't lie, you always knew." Snapping his neck quickly and straightening back up, you finally glanced around the room to assess the damage. 1 broken bottle, and some blood. 'Not too bad', you think to yourself. Turning back around to your chair you started to push it back in when the back door opened and footsteps caught your attention.

"The fuck happened here!?" A man with a mustache started yelling. "Buisness." Glancing up as you answered you noticed there was 4 of them. The man with the mustache, another with a cap on, the third had a ciggarette hanging out of mouth, and the last one had a baby face. With the adrenaline running out you started to feel the pain, looking down you saw your shirt soaked in blood. "Fuck...," looking back to the gaggle of men, who were still glaring at you, 3 of them even pulled out guns. "Look I'll pay for the bottle and the labour for the blood, I apologise for the mess too. Are you lot gonna tell the police?" Now their expressions changed looking st you as if you had multiple heads. "Police!? We're the fucking peaky blinders!" The man with the mustache yelled at you, cocking his gun, "and who the fuck are you!?"

"Nobody." Turning yourself toward the door, "The money will be here by first light." Hearing the other men cocking their guns you stopped and stared at the door in front of you, a different voice spoke out. "It is already first light, its actually 5 in the morning. We were told by some of our men that a group broke in here and were stupid enough to leave their car outside." Closing your eyes you sighed, 'well there goes my ride', you thought to yourself again. The men began talking to you again but you were thinking about how you were going to be leaving, 'Maybe I can still take the car, worst they could've done is fuck with the engine.' Smiling to yourself you turned back to the men.

"Look gentlemen, I dont know who the peaky blinders are. Never heard of you lot sadly, as for me don't worry about it. I'm just another man walking the streets, well not these ones but..." You looked back down and noticed another blood spot was slowly getting bigger, " I've got to get going now, I already got a few bullets in me so if you'll excuse me, you'll find me in the hospitial."

With that you turned and dashed through the door as bullets went flying around you for the 2nd time today It's something you've gotten used to over the years. With every step you took, the pain spiked. Gritting your teeth you hopped into the car and started it. The machine shook alive and you let out a little laugh.The men were now rushing out the door and aiming at the car, stepping on the gas you bolted down the road. Nothing was more exciting then driving a fast car.

"The fucker's getting away!" Arthur shouted, "What do you want us to do Arthur? Chase after the car?" Michael questioned his cousin. John lowered his gun and tried catching his breath, "Did you see the bodies in there? Something don't add up, one of them had a knife in his fucking throat." Tommy walked out of the Garrison doors, "Yeah and the one on top of him has a bottle in his chest. Then there's the one by the door, he's got a mark on his neck, wire looks like." Everyone was silent, mulling over the situation. "He said he'd be at the hospital, we should send someone over there." Michael looked to Tom, taking out another cigarette. "You know Michael that isn't a bad idea, we'll send Finn and Isaiah."

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Getting back to the apartment was easy. No one was up yet, it was 5 AM at the latest, the sun was just starting to peak through the horizon. Taking off your shirt you started unwrapping the binding on your chest, taking a deep breathe would've been nice but the bullet hole in your side reminded you it was still there. Grabbing your supplies and sitting on the bed, you got to work on removing the bullet, luckly it wasn't near any important parts. Biting down on some cloth you pulled the bullet out. "Fuck ,fuck, fuck, fuck!" Tossing the stupid thing on the floor you splashed some alcohol into the wound. Feeling a little woozy you grabbed the needle and thread, 'Come on YN youère almost done.' Stitching yourself up wasn't new but your hands still shake with every pass. The slash on your arm only needed a few stitches but the awkward angle was enough to give you trouble.

Spinning around you realized there wasn't any bandages left, throwing your head back with an audible "ugh" you stood and started to throw on a new shirt, careful not to bump anything and open it back up you threw a oversized coat on and a hat.

The air was cool which was nice on your flushed cheeks, cool air was always nice after a job, espiecally one that you walked away from with new wounds. You kept your head slightly down and collar popped, hiding your face. You knew this life wasn't easy but you knew nothing else, you grew up doing this, your whole life dedicated to this and everything associated with it. Your thoughts cleared when you came up to the hospitial. In and out. Grab bandages, and leave, simple.

Walking into the hospitial you saw nurses bustling about and doctors checking boards and holding conversation with each other. Good, people were busy. Watching one of the nurses walk down the hall and enter a door that said nurses only, you set your attentions there. Everybody glanced at you but with a simple tip of the hat and a "here to see the wife and babe" nobody questioned you, babies were always being born. You could hear some of them coming into the world, the cries of life. Not like the ones you were used to too.

Entering the room some murses looked up at you and some were about to start yelling but you were quicker. "Oh I'm so sorry everyone for being late, you know how it is." Laughing gently you took off the hat and shook out your chin length hair. "Excuse me but I dont think I've ever seen around before." One nurse spoke. Looking over to her while sliping off your coat, "Oh well pardon me, I'm Leanna. I've been sent over for a few days with a patient before we go back home, I'm his personal nurse." Most of the nurses ignored you and left to get on with work you presumed. "Which patient?" You went behind a curtain and changed into a nurses uniform, "Mr.Smith." You replied, Smith was a rather common name anywhere you went in Britain so it was a safe name to throw around. "Smith? I don't think I've heard of him sorry." Stepping out fully dressed you gave her a gently smile "It's quite alright we won't be here long. it was nice meeting you but I have to get going Mr.Smith gets upset when he doesn't recognize where he is." With that you left and walked the halls.

While looking for the supply closet you saw 2 boys dressed very similarly to the men from the pub walk in, you could hear them ask doctors and nurses of they've had a man in with bullet wounds. Of course they said no. But now there was a problem, while walking towards another section of the hospitial these two boys bumped into you, knocking you to the ground, and you felt a pop. Quickly standing back up, you ignored the hands trying to help you up. "Miss! Sorry! We weren't looking where we were going, you know we're trying to look for someone. Maybe you've seen them? A man who was shot-" "shot in the side." Tying your cardigan around your waist you looked up at the boys. One was lean, had freckles and curly hair, the other was a little more built (he did knock you down), smooth skin, and had dark hair. "It's alright, no I havent seen a man, now please excuse me." Keeping things short, you left and found the supplies closet.

You dressed your own wounds and stuck the rest of the bandages into the bust of the dress. Shifting the bust of the dress around you gave yourself the okay and left the closet. The boys were still in the same spot but now babyface and the cap wearing man had joined them. 'Shit.' Holding your head down you passed them again. " *whisle* thats one pretty girlie, oi nurse!" The capped man was catcalling you.....honestly could've be worse. Walking faster you made it back to the lockers, changing was nice until you noticed the smallest blood stain on the dress, "Oh for fucks sake." You held the dress in the crook of your elbow, now standing in the nurses locker room, dressed in mens clothing with coat pockets full of bandages and other supplies, holding a nures's dress, to make it even better a nurse walked in and was staring at you with wide eyes. 'fuck'

"Look miss my girl works here and she asked me to throw her uniform in the laundry here, you see there's some blood on it and she's in the bathroom right now, the blood it makes her dizzy, I-I I'll leave, oh Lord this is embarrassing." Lying came easy, sometimes you enjoyed it, every word created a story and here you were acting in it, you found it funny. 'No! No! It's quite alright you're just trying to be a good husband here lemme take it for you, you go see how she is alright." The nurse came over placing a hand on your arm and grabbed the uniform. "Thank you miss" You gave her a smile and left the room swiftly.

Leaving the hospitial was suppose to be as easy as getting into it but the tiny detail you forgot about was now you were in the same building as those men from the pub. Wanting to face plant into the ground and wanting to let put the biggest groan, you kept silent and your head on a swivel. Looking around every corner and down every hallway. Alas your efforts were futile when you rounded a corner and bumped into the same chest as earlier. You landed on the ground again and quickly pulled your hat down to cover the majority of your face. "Oi watch where your going." You nodded and stood up making sure not to make eye contact, side stepping around them you carried on your way when you heard, "Isaiah thats him!" Upon those words you ran, 'so much goddamn running.'

You weren't far from the entrance when some men stepped in front of the hospitals doors, wearing those stupid hats, 'you've got to be fucking kidding me'. Looking around you noticed a open window, you slowed down to a halt and stared at the men at the door, they slowky walked forward and you could hear the shoes hitting the floor in chase behind you. Throwing a smirk at the two at the door you dashed to the window and used your arms to send yourself out of it legs first. Sticking the landing you stood up and glanced into an alleyway and decided to take it, you could still hear the men running after you. Looking up at the walls around you, specifically at the windows again and these were barred. Perfect. Stopping in front of one you noticed how high it was, your arms weren't gonna be long enough. The slapping of shoes filled the alleyway, making up your mind in that moment, you decided on a run and jump. The first attempt didnt work, at all.

By now when you started the second attempt the men could see you easly scale the windows, then the fire escape, then they watched you jump onto the roof and disappear. "Now who in the fuck does that?" Isaiah looked back at the group of men. All of them were out of breath. "Yeah who the fuck is he? Why's he so important?" Finn looked at his older brother, "He broke into The Garrison and killed 3 blokes" John answered. Finn looked to the roof and laughed. "Fucking hell."

The group started their journey back to the betting shop but what they didn't know was that they were being followed by the 'man' on the roof. Granted jumping from roof to roof only worked so far before you had to get down, you watched them enter a building and recognized the area around you, it wasn't too far from the apartment, letting out a sigh you walked back 'home'. How were you going to leave this place now? Taking everything off you started yourself a bath. Seeing your reflection was weird, you were so used to being seen as a man by the outside world that when you did see the feminine parts of you it was like a surprise, a nice surprise cause you knew you were one badass lady. Taking off the bandage made you huff in annoyance, getting knocked over causing your stitches to pop open and then all that running and climbing, all that hard work just to be back at square one. Walking to your room you redid the stitches, not as shaky this time, then climbed into the bath.

It's at moments like these where you wished you had your beloved record player with you. Music is always able to help you calm down. You could say music was your only weakness.

You lounged there wondering when you should drop off that money, would they even want it? They didn't seem to enthustiastic about your offer. Whatever you promised, maybe you could deliver the new bottle...nope, knock and run away? Yeah that sounds alright.

The water was getting cold so you stood up and wrapped yourself in a towel and made your way to your room to grab the bandages from your coat after dressing yourself you noticed there was a whole in your coat, 'the windows', letting out another sigh you grabbed some wide cloth and binded your chest, then grabbed a shirt, trousers, your hat, and some cash, then headed to the nearest store to buy a bottle of whatever you could find. Seeing as your coat had a hole in it you couldn't help but stick your hand in and out of it as you walked, you even pulled at the frayed edges before you mentally yelled at yourself saying that you're only gonna make it worse. Shoving your hands into the pockets you walked into the first store, it looked like a general store, had a little bit of everything. Looking around the shelves you noticed they had a very small liqour selection and guessing by the dust on some of the bottles, they weren't very popular. You saw an older man with a white beard and mustache behind the counter, "Excuse me sir, what kind of drink is this?" Throwing a gesture towards the shelf with your head the man looked to the side at the bottles.

"You want to buy them?" He looked surprised. "Yes but only if you tell me what it is." You let out a small laugh. The older man chuckled, "Yes well, the ones in the front row are whiskey but everything behind them is rum." Rum? You haven't had rum in awhile. "I'll take two bottles of rum, the ones in the furthest back please." He turned and set them down in front of you. "Is that everything?" He asked with a raised brow, "No, do you sell coats by any chance? Or know of somewhere that does?" The older man was about to answer when a woman behind you spoke, "You can buy coats down the road now can you please hurry im in a rush." Turning towards the woman you noticed the short haircut, to the chin like yours, her eyes were a bright blue and she wore red lipstick, she was also wearing a fur coat. Once your gaze went back up to her face, she had a mischievous look on her face. "Are you finished? Thats a rather large hole in your coat, what happened?" Laughing to yourself, you turned back towards the man and placed 2 bills down. "keep the change." With that you left and hearing the older man yelling thank you as you left, put a smile on your face. You enjoyed making people happy.

The store selling coats was crowded, people were everywhere in there, some were customers, and others were employess with tape measures around their necks. A woman walked up to you when you steped through the door. "Hello! How may I help you?" You locked eyes with her and gave her your most charming smile, "I'm looking for a coat, mines got a hole in it." Showing her the whole she gasped. "My thats a rather large rip, well if you could follow me I can show you some im sure you'll like." She gently wrapped her arm around yours and took off down the racks of coats before stopping in front of a section with many black and navy coats. "So here we have some coats that match the colour and wear as the one you have on now." Going through a few you noticed one a little further down the racks. "What about this one?" Pulling out the dark forest green jacket, you turned to her and smiled, "Can I try this one on?" She stared at you for a moment.

"Yes of course you can sir though I do have to warn you it is one of our more expensive pieces." Taking off the jacket you had on and giving it to the lady, you swung the green fabric over your shoulders, your arm protested but you masked the pain. You looked over yourself and you were quite happy with how it looked on you. "I quite like it, miss I think I'll take this one." The woman started speaking fast, "but sir that jacket is very expensive, yes you look very handsome in it but-!" You walked over to her and grabbed her hands, "It's alright, but now I have to get it if I look so handsome in it." Winking at her, you let go of her hands and grabbed your old coat, pulling out some money. "Is this enough?" She glanced at the money in your hands and grabbed the bills, she refiled through them then handed back 2 bills. "There its yours." She smiled at you with flushed cheeks. Smiling back, you placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly, "thank you miss, have nice day." Her face got brighter as you walked away, you wished she kept the old coat but you needed to get the bottle of rum to the building before sundown.

You saw the woman from earlier walk out of another shop in front of you. Her arms carrying a box and a bag on top of it. You could hear the clicking of her heelings against the pavement, she was walking with purpose you decided, guess she was telling the truth about being in a hurry. Then you noticed the men, the men in caps,'they're everywhere'. The woman noticed them too. "If you're just gonna watch me all day atleast be helpful and bring this back to the house." She placed the box and bag into the arms of one of the men and kept on walking before entering a car.

You watched the car leave and felt jealous but kept on with your travel on foot. You walked towards your street and on the way you saw a small girl running in nothing but a dress. Watching with careful eyes you examined the path the girl was running in and saw a pump in the road, almost as you were about to call out she tripped and fell. Rushing over, you picked her up and sat her on your knee and brushed off her legs and arms of the gravel stuck to them. She had her face tucked into your neck as she cried, getting you wet with her tears. "Hey you're alright now, I've gotcha." You gently brushed the dirty and gravel off her injured knee. "Nothing more than a little scrape aye?" She looked down at her knee and sniffled, "It hurts." Rubbing her back you replied, "I know darling but you're a strong girl. You look tough now and once this little scrape heals you'll be good as new." She studied the side of your face as you were checking the rest of her legs for scrapes.

"You've got long hair mr." She was gently pulling on the strands poking out from under your hat, "It looks pretty." She giggled as the hair sprung back into place. "Why thank you, I must admit I only ever want my hair to look pretty." You wrapped your large coat over her small frame and tied the long ends in a knot. "There you can have my coat, now I know there's a hole in it but you can throw it when you get home, it's just something to keep you warm yeah?" She looked at you with big eyes "Yea!" "Now watch where you run." She nodded, hugged you and ran away. The sleeves of the coat covering her hands.

Laughing you turned back and continued the walk. When you finally reached your street you saw the car the woman left in, 'curiouser and curiouser', the car was parked in front of your rums destination. Standing next to the car you gently leaned against it and began to come up with your 'escape' plan. "So after almost a day of my men trying to find you, you end up on my door step." Spinning your head towards the alley and the voice, you made eye contact with the man from the pub, and just like when you first saw him, he was smoking. Looking back to the door you answered, "I was just going to leave the bottle and money and be on my mary way." You heard in let out a airy laugh. "Mary way? I didn't peg you as the type of man to go about things maryly especially after what I saw you do to those 3 in the bar." Looking up at the sky you sighed.

Still sitting on the car you tilted your upper half and placed one of the bottles of rum on the top of the car, then you held up some cash and placed the bottle on top of the pile. Holding up your own bottle of rum and stepped off the car, "I'll be on my mary way." Throwing him a small smile you walked past him. "This rum?" You spun back around to him and opened your bottle. "Yep." You gave the bottle a swig and let out a hum. "It's pretty good too." You tipped the bottle towards him, "Cheers." You spun back around and walked towards your aprtment.

Watching you walk to the apartments at the end of lane Tommy smirked and grabbed the rum. He opened the bottle and gave it a sniff and quickly scowled at it. He put the top back on the bottle and counted the money, eyes shooting up to your apartment again. Where the hell did you get this type of money?

"You alright Tom?" Turning towards his sister he placed the bottle of rum in her hand, "I'm fine Ada." Recognizing the bottle, Ada made eye contact with her brother. "Where'd you get this from?" Tom looked at the bottle then back at his sister, "why?" Ada shook her head. "It nothing I just saw a man earlier today buying a few bottles," she let out a laugh, "he was asking where to buy a new coat cause his had this giant tear in his." Thomas glanced down the lane again to the apartment building he watched you enter earlier.

"A man eh?"

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Aaaahhh it's been forever since I last wrote anything, truly am sorry, but! I have been craving to write for peaky blinders again (I honestly love that show and its universe) I had loads of fun writing this and I actually know where I want this story to go so please let me know if you want a part 2 or maybe I'll write a part 2 anyways cause I have many plans for it. Anyways enough of my rambling, I really hope you enjoyed this and thank you so much for reading! <3

[loveissupernatural]

                                To Love in a Foreign Land

                                    Draco Malfoy x reader

Chapter Two: To Britain

[ Read Part 1 here ]

The fateful morning of your journey to London arrived in a tizzy of flying clothes and misplaced luggage. You didn’t have to meet at Ilvermorny for your final portkey until that night, but it didn’t stop you and your mother from running around the house like two chickens with their heads cut off. You barely had time to stuff down a sandwich before your mom ran into the kitchen holding another handful of objects that she thought you simply couldn’t live without.

“Mom, I can’t take my entire room with me!” you laughed.

She sighed. “I wish your father were here. He could cast one of those expandable spell-thingies on your suitcase and we wouldn’t have to worry about all of this.”

“Only two more years and I can cast it myself,” you shrugged. “We’ll just have to pack like you’re used to packing: the non-magical way.”

After much debating and the rearranging of your travel items, the time finally came for you to leave. You soaked in every moment of conversation with your mother in the car, knowing that when it came time to take the portkey to Massachusetts, she couldn’t come with you. You held her hand for the entire hour-long drive. You both held back tears.

The car turned onto a dirt road surrounded by ever-thickening pine trees, and you knew that you were getting close. Your heart began to hammer and your palms began to sweat. The path eventually widened out into a large stretch of bare farmland, an unassuming old Chevy truck parked at the end of the road. This is where your letter from Ilvermorny instructed you to stop.

You spotted Eleanor’s beaming face and that of her parents’ a few feet away from the red, rusty vehicle. They were talking to a portly wizard in sweeping navy robes. She smiled and waved enthusiastically when she spotted you climbing out of your mother’s small Toyota.

“Hey, Y/N!” she grinned, running toward you. “Can you believe it? It’s almost time!”

She circled to the car’s trunk with you and your mom, helping you to haul out your luggage. Her chipper voice carried across the vast, unplowed field, as did the stately deep baritone of the waiting wizard.

Once you all approached the truck, Eleanor’s parents greeted your mother, exchanging pleasantries and anecdotes about how difficult it would be for them not having their daughter home.

“Oh, but we’re so thrilled for her,” Eleanor’s mother gushed, clapping her hands in an almost childlike manner. “We were hoping that she’d take the opportunity as soon as she could to travel.”

“It’s definitely going to be hard not having Y/N home,” your mother said sadly, hugging you to her side one last time. “The house will feel so empty.”

“Ellie told us that your late husband went to Hogwarts?” her father asked gently. “I’m sure this will be such an adventure for Y/N.”

You smiled, quickly wiping away the tears that began to flow with the back of your hand. “I think it will be.”

“Time to say your final goodbyes,” the portly wizard stated, tucking his golden pocket watch back into his robes. “Our portkey will depart in a few minutes.”

He started to walk toward a forlorn-looking scarecrow in the near distance that, if you weren’t mistaken, was beginning to glow. You turned to your tearful mother, her nose already beginning to turn red from the sniffling. Seeing her cry only made your tears flow faster.

“Your dad… he would be so proud of you,” she whispered, her hands resting gently on your cheeks. Her thumbs wiped at your unstopping tears.

“I love you, Momma,” you choked, embracing her with all of your strength. Your tears soaked the chest of her cotton t-shirt.

“I love you so much, baby,” she replied. One of her hands carded through your hair. She pulled away reluctantly at the call of the impatient wizard to ‘mind your time’. She lowered her head and her wet eyes looked directly into yours. “You better send me an owl as soon as you get settled, okay? I need to know that you made it in one piece.”

You jokingly saluted. “Scout’s honor.”

“One minute!” called the man in the navy robes, clapping his hands together in a signal to hurry. You and Eleanor, luggage in tow, sprinted across the remaining ground between the truck and the portkey. The scarecrow was glowing brightly now, almost pulsing.

The man held whatever luggage of yours that he could, huffing with the effort, eyes trained on his pocket watch. You and Eleanor appreciated his help, despite his somewhat cold and business-like manner. You all reached out a finger to touch the portkey.

The effect was instantaneous. The sensation of a rope pulling at your navel jerked you forward, your feet lifted, and you were spinning and spinning in a whirlwind of color and weightlessness. You locked eyes with Eleanor, noticing a green tinge overcoming her face. She’d warned you in the past about her tendency to get portkey sickness.

It was over as quickly as it had begun. With a thud, you and Eleanor landed backside first on soft and grassy ground. The robed wizard floated down to land gracefully on his feet, seemingly unbothered by the whole ordeal. One of Eleanor’s suitcases landed hard enough that it popped open. The two of you were rushing to stuff its contents back inside. Your friend’s face made it very clear that she was still feeling nauseous.

Once Eleanor’s luggage was in order, the two of you stood and brushed yourselves off. You were finally able to take in your surroundings – the towering mountains, the dark green grass, and the looming silhouette of Ilvermorny pressed against the shadowy heavens. The sun had already set in Massachusetts. The towering school blended into the night sky, only the lit windows distinguishing it from the stars that twinkled behind.

“Not gonna lie, I’m going to miss this view,” you admitted, taking a deep breath of the cool mountain air.

“Same,” Eleanor sighed.

You didn’t get to enjoy the view for long. The stout wizard was hurrying you two along toward the front gate of the school but you were having trouble keeping up with the heavy suitcases swinging from your arms. Only when you drew closer did you recognize the voices and silhouettes of the other exchange students, and the tall mauve witch hat of Headmistress Pukwould.

“Hurry up! Hurry, now,” you heard her insisting, pointing to various nearby spots of ground. “Beauxbatons over here. Yes, yes, Miss Valdez, over here by the old shovel. Mr. Reynolds, you’re going to Mahoutokoro, you need to be by the bushes with the plaid pair of gardening gloves.”

You respected that your Headmistress was personally here to ensure that everyone got to where they were meant to be. She could have easily relegated the task to a professor, but she was invested enough in this endeavor to oversee it herself.

“I’ve got your Hogwarts kids, Celestia,” the wizard said, standing proudly. “Where do they need to go?”

“Ah, ladies,” she grinned, doing her best not to sound overwhelmed, “you two are taking the tea kettle over near the gate.” She pointed in the direction she expected you to go, then quickly turned and ran toward a group of boys screaming, “No! Stop visiting and get to your designated portkeys! They’ll be leaving any minute!”

“A tea kettle? Think that was on purpose?” you snorted, sprinting toward the gate.

“Oh, definitely,” Eleanor grinned.

Once you were settled by your softly glowing tea kettle, you looked around at the nearby grounds. You could vaguely see the shapes of the other students standing around their respective balls of glowing light, witches and wizards much like your navy-robed companion staring at their pocket watches.

“Now, listen closely,” the wizard said, scratching his mustache nervously, “you’ll be arriving on a street in London, right outside of the Leaky Cauldron where you’ll be staying. Someone from Hogwarts will be there waitin’ for ya and tell ya what you need to do next. Got it?”

“Wait, you’re not coming with us?” Eleanor demanded.

“Nope, my journey ends here.”

You two hardly had a chance to nod before the portkey began to pulse. Her face was growing greener by the second.

“Now?”

“Now!”

You barely touched the glowing tea kettle before you were jerked away into a zero gravity world of rotating colors.

                           _______________________________

There was a slickness on the cobblestone street outside of the Leaky Cauldron, making the flickering light of the torches reflect back beside your feet. You’d surprisingly landed smoothly, but you couldn’t say the same for poor Eleanor. She was sprawled by your feet surrounded by dropped luggage, breathing shallowly.

You reached down to help her up. “You okay? Take deep breaths!”

“I – I fucking hate portkeys,” she managed to seethe, hands on her knees.

“Oy!”

Both of your heads snapped up at the deep voice to see a large, bulking shadow lumbering out of the nearby magical pub. As the shape stepped closer, you realized that it was the silhouette of an enormous wizard with a messy beard and hair to match. Fear trickled through you, after all, you barely came up past his stomach – but when he stepped into the torchlight, you saw a kind smile and sparkling brown eyes. Your fear melted under the warmth he seemed to radiate.

“Ya gotta be th’ students comin’ over from th’ States, yeh?” he asked in a hearty grumble, leaning down to take both your luggage and Eleanor’s with ease.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, that’s us,” you smiled, awe still etched in your expression at the man’s size.

“Nice to meet ya!” he exclaimed, reaching out to shake your hand with a garbage lid-sized hand of his own. “Me name’s Hagrid, Keeper o’ Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. I’ll also be one o’ yer professors.”

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself. His huge hand could’ve enveloped fifty of yours.

Hagrid looked over at Eleanor, but she was turning increasingly green.

“Blimey, ya’ look like yer gonna be sick,” Hagrid said with concern.

Eleanor gulped, glaring at the innocent tea kettle laying in the street. She could barely speak. “P-Portkey.”

“Ah, Professor Dumbledore thought ya migh’,” Hagrid nodded, reaching into multiple large pockets that covered his vest. It looked to be made of some kind of animal skin. He was looking for something. “’ere we are!”

His large hand held out a small, wrapped candy of some kind. Bright letters across the wrapper read Sick-Be-Gone!

“Oh, thank you,” Eleanor gasped, snatching it out of his hand and popping it in her mouth. Her eyes closed and she sighed as if savoring a rich dessert.

Hagrid chuckled. “Reckon tha’s better.”

“I’m Eleanor,” she smiled, shaking his enormous hand. “Thank you, Hagrid.”

“Welcome ter London, Y/N an’ Eleanor!” he said with a large grin, turning back toward the Leaky Cauldron with all of your luggage in his huge arms. “Follow me. Tom’ll get ya up to yer rooms, I bet yer tired.”

“Ugh, that sounds amazing,” you groaned. Eleanor agreed.

The bar was a bit dusty, but obviously had so much character and history that you barely noticed. An older wizard stepped out from behind the bar, smiling. He was missing a tooth or two.

“Name’s Tom,” he said, shaking both you and your friend’s hands. He waved his wand toward the bar, and a rag sprang to life and began to clean a few small glasses. “Hope all that portkey travelin’ didn’t rough ya up too much.”

“Hagrid had us covered,” you smiled. Hagrid grinned behind you.

“Well, I got two rooms for ya upstairs,” Tom said. He motioned for Hagrid to put the luggage down, and with a wave of his wand, the bags were floating as if being carried by invisible people. “They’re next to each other. Follow me, Missus.”

You and Eleanor went to follow Tom and your bags, but Hagrid stopped you.

“Almos’ fergot,” he said quickly, “you two meet me down ‘ere in the mornin’, aroun’ nine. I’m gonna help ya git all yer school stuff!”

The two of you nodded, exchanging goodnights with Hagrid so that Tom could show you your rooms. You followed him up a few rickety, winding staircases before he came to a stop on the third floor.

“Miss Y/N, you’ll be in 310, Miss Eleanor in room 312,” he said, flicking his wand once more so that the doors opened and your respective bags floated to your bedsides. “Let me know if ya need anythin’.”

“Thanks, sir,” you said, stepping into your room and eying the bed longingly. The Leaky Cauldron was far from a five-star hotel, but it was comfortable, and that’s all that mattered.

“Goodnight, sir,” you heard Eleanor say from her room. Tom dipped his head and walked back down the stairs.

“See you at nine,” you smiled, poking your head into Eleanor’s room. It was identical to yours, only with a different bedspread. She yawned and waved.

“Night, Y/N.”

You hastily changed into your bedclothes and sank into the warm, soft sheets. It suddenly hit you just how draining traveling by multiple portkeys could be. You looked forward to the day that Apparition would be an option. You drifted into a deep sleep filled with dreams of floating across the sea from America to Britain.

                                 ___________________________

The next morning went by in a flash. You and Eleanor met Hagrid downstairs in the Leaky Cauldron as planned, following him into the back alley behind the pub and watching in amazement as the bricks parted for you at a few taps of his pink umbrella. You were puzzled by the lack of wand but decided not to ask.

You obviously had your wand and owl already, but you still needed the necessary books, potion ingredients, and plain black Hogwarts robes. Hagrid pointed out Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, waiting outside as you and Eleanor strolled in to be fitted. He was too large to enter the shop, he told you two with a bit of a blush.

“Hello, dears,” the slightly frazzled woman greeted. You assumed she was Madam Malkin. She waddled out from behind a table beside the three-sided mirror, pins and thread adorning pincushions on both of her wrists and sticking out of odd places on her green robes. “I’ll be with you ladies in just a moment.”

Madam Malkin rushed over to a group of waiting children, pushing them in turn toward the mirror and apple box-like stand, lifting their arms and pinning excess material quickly. Within a matter of ten minutes, she’d finished altering robes for four of them. When the last small child rushed out of the door, she approached the two of you, brushing her curling grey hair out of her plump face.

“Sorry ‘bout that, there are always so many first years,” she chuckled exasperatedly. “What can I do for you? Need longer robes?”

“We need new robes altogether,” you answered with a grin.

“You’re not from these parts, are you?” she asked, noticing your American accent.

“We’re exchange students, it’ll be our first year at Hogwarts,” Eleanor answered.

“Ah! How exciting,” she chippered, already rushing to a pair of racks not far behind you. “Slip these on, dearies, let’s see how they fair.”

Eleanor stepped onto the platform in front of the mirror first, lifting her arms without having to be told. Madam Malkin pinned her sleeves and the hemline of her robe quickly. She pointed out a group of shelves near the front windows that contained skirts, sweaters, and button up shirts that were refolding themselves. She told the two of you exactly what you would need, and what the weather was normally like.

“Your turn,” she smiled at you, motioning with a pin-filled hand to step onto the box.

The bell tingled as the front door to the shop opened, announcing the arrival of new customers. Madam Malkin turned from you to greet the newcomers, but her smile faded and her face paled. You followed her gaze in the mirror.

A pale woman with light blonde hair stepped into the shop, her emerald green robes shimmering and flowing behind her in a way that would’ve been majestic if the look on her face didn’t appear as if she was smelling something foul. Behind her walked a young man that appeared to be your age, with skin equally as fair and hair equally as blonde. His face was pointed, but very handsome, his pink lips and sharp jawline accentuated by his sharp grey-blue eyes and neatly groomed hair. They wreaked of money and wore their beauty proudly, but the air that surrounded them could not be described as pleasant.

“O-oh, Mrs. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you,” Madam Malkin bowed, but it was obvious that their presence was anything but a pleasure.

Mrs. Malfoy nodded but did not return the sentiment. “My son, Draco, needs new robes,” she stated matter-of-factly, turning to him and resting a pale hand on his shoulder. She fixed Madam Malkin with an icy glare. “His school robes from last year are already ridden with holes. I expect better quality from any business that we frequent.”

“My deepest apologies, Mrs. Malfoy,” the frazzled woman bowed again, grasping her hands together in anxiety. “You’re absolutely right.”

Draco was smirking behind his mother, obviously taking enjoyment in watching her scold the shop owner like a small child. The butterflies in your stomach that were stirred by his appearance were instantly dampened by the expression on his face. You didn’t like the way these Malfoys were treating the older woman.

“We expect the finest materials, Malkin,” Mrs. Malfoy sneered. “If this reoccurs, I’m afraid we’ll be taking our business to a, erm—” she glanced around the small shop, her nose wrinkling, “—more fitting establishment.”

“O-of course, of course,” the shop owner stuttered, obviously shaken by the threat. “It will not happen again, Mrs. Malfoy.”

The blonde woman hummed, seemingly satisfied with how much fear she instilled in Madam Malkin. Draco stepped forward, browsing a nearby rack of more expensive robes and quickly picking a few pairs. He seemed to know what quality looked like, judging from his well-fitted black suit and shining silver serpent ring.

“I - I’ll be done with this young lady in just a moment,” Madam Malkin said nervously, turning to you with pins glinting in her shaking hands. You suddenly felt uneasy about her handling sharp objects with the Malfoys present.

“Unacceptable, I’m afraid we have a tight schedule to keep,” Mrs. Malfoy stated simply.

Draco strolled up to the mirror with the robes folded elegantly on his arm, his reflection making direct eye contact with yours. It felt like his sharp eyes could see every secret you possessed and you felt equally flustered and unnerved. You couldn’t decide if you liked the feeling.

“Are you deaf?” he asked in a voice that was as sharp as his eyes. A smirk that echoed his mother’s pulled up one corner of his mouth.

Your eyes narrowed, and the butterflies were dampened again. You looked to Madam Malkin, asking for her support with your gaze, but she sheepishly avoided your eyes. Not in the mood for drama on your first full day in Britain, you rolled your eyes and stepped down from the platform. You hated the smug smile that curled onto Draco’s handsome face.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath, walking to where Eleanor stood by the window shelves. Draco’s eyes locked with yours again in the mirror and he scowled. You smirked yourself, knowing that he’d heard you. His mother obviously did not.

“Who the hell do they think they are?” Eleanor whispered to you, pretending to card through a stack of sweater vests.

“Well, whoever they are, they sure as hell think their shit doesn’t stink,” you whispered in reply, glaring at the back of Draco’s shoulders as Madam Malkin bent to pin his robe hem. Her fingers were still shaking.

“If I wasn’t trying to make a good impression on my first day here, I’d hex the shit outta them,” Eleanor hissed quietly.

You nodded; although, one look at Mrs. Malfoy told you that she wasn’t one to be trifled with.

“I mean, poor thing, look at how nervous they make her,” you said, watching the scene with pity. Draco was now snapping at Madam Malkin for stabbing him with a pin. “No wonder his robes aren’t perfect, they’re yelling at her every two seconds.”

In double the time as it would’ve taken Madam Malkin to pin anyone else’s robes, she finished with Draco’s. He huffed out a “finally”, throwing them all into her arms and strolling back toward the front of the shop to his mother. Mrs. Malfoy muttered something about returning in an hour to pick up the robes, turning and strutting out of the door in a sweep of emerald green.

Draco went to follow, but then he stopped directly in front of you and Eleanor. With an irritatingly attractive smirk, his gaze grazed your body from your shocked face, down to your toes, then back up again.

He winked.

With eyes glinting like slate, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his smooth black suit, turned, and sauntered out of the shop.

With anger, you realized that your face was a million degrees and the butterflies in your stomach were throwing a full-scale revolt. You didn’t hate the sensation as much as you should, as much as you wish that you did.

“The fuck was that?” Eleanor asked unabashedly.

Your cheeks were so hot that they were almost numb. “I — I don’t know.”

Madam Malkin rushed over to you, stumbling apologies on her lips. You could only make out “very wealthy” and “longtime patrons”. She finished pinning your robes in a rush, her face still flushed in what you could only assume was embarrassment. She murmured that both of your robes would be ready in a few hours, avoiding eye contact, then shooed you both out of the shop. If you didn’t pity her so, you would’ve been offended.

Hagrid was waiting for you two, looking up from a small wooden carving that he was whittling with a large knife. Seeing the looks on your faces, it didn’t take him long to make the connection.

“Venturin’ a guess tha’ ya met the Malfoys?” he asked gruffly, distaste evident in his tone. “Rotten lot they are.”

“Yeah, what’s their problem?” you demanded. “They treated Madam Malkin like she was a servant.”

“They fancy ‘emselves better than mos’,” he growled. “Pure-bloods, they are.”

Eleanor groaned, and you echoed it. In America, pure-blood mania had all but disappeared over a century ago. A limited number of wizards arrived on the large continent, and after a handful of centuries had passed, it became more than obvious that the pure-blood families would have no choice but to inbreed if they wanted to keep their status. Some even tried, but magic would die out of the families if their kind didn’t eventually mate with No-Majs. Barely a wizard was alive in America today that wasn’t half-blood or less.

“Are you serious?” you asked. “That’s still a thing here?”

Hagrid chuckled at your tone. “Jus’ ignore ‘em.” He stopped and pointed down Diagon Alley to an old shop painted in black. “Righ’ there’s where ya need ta git yer potion supplies.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent gathering the last of what you needed for your first day at Hogwarts, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the oddly beautiful yet unbearably cold mother and son that had swept into Madam Malkin’s. You gritted your teeth. But then you tried not to blush as you recalled Draco’s piercing eyes and self-assured smirk. And what the hell was that taunting wink all about?

Darkness had fallen by the time the three of you finished shopping. Hagrid treated you and Eleanor to a small but delicious dinner downstairs at the Leaky Cauldron. You were to meet him downstairs again in the morning for King’s Cross Station.

“Make sure yer wearin’ Muggle attire,” he reminded you on his way out the door.

“Wait, what? What’s a Muggle?” Eleanor asked, confused.

Hagrid chuckled, understanding. “Wha’ we call non-magic folk.”

“Ahh,” you nodded, smiling at the odd term. “We say No-Maj in America, like ‘no magic’.”

“Makes sense, I reckon,” he smiled through his thick beard. He waved a large hand. “See ya in th’ mornin’.”

In a tired haze, you and your friend trudged up the multiple flights of stairs, carrying all of your purchases from the day. Once you’d exchanged goodnights with Eleanor, you stuffed all of the supplies and robes into your suitcases haphazardly, anxious to get to sleep. You had to get up early in the morning to look your best before you left for King’s Cross. Your future peers were going to see you for the first time, and first impressions mattered.

Your eyelids became heavy as you watched your lamp fizzle out, excitement and nerves lazily tying knots in your stomach for what was to come.

[ Read Part 3 here ]

[alex-ruins-everything]

Turning Pages - Chapter 1

Intrulogical bookshop au! Read whole thing on ao3 here

Logan Berry had a normal, content, average life. He was happy working at the bookshop that he simply loved, all until the brash and loud brother of one of his coworker's boyfriend's entered the picture. Then he found his quite perfect life interrupted by something he had never experienced before - fun. Remus Kingsley was getting him to branch out, and not looking too bad while doing it. 

Logan Berry had a normal, content, average life. He had good grades, a solid sleep schedule, an average amount of social interaction, and a job that he adored. He worked at a bookshop, the same bookshop he had spent most of his childhood in since most preteens were not fans of their intellectually superior peers. Though at the bookshop he could put all of that aside and immerse himself in knowledge - and on the rare occasion, some fantasy. In all fairness it didn’t take long for the bookshop owner, Mr. Sanders, to start recognizing the young boy that was always sitting in the armchairs by the windows. It didn’t take much more time after that for him to start to take Logan under his wing, showing him how the bookshop runs and on Logan’s 16th birthday, offering him a job that was happily accepted. Logan had always been an enthusiastic learner and that directly translated into his work. When Mr. Sanders’ attention got pulled away from the shop, Logan happily picked up the slack.

He was not a fan of summer break, finding the halt in his education to be cumbersome, but he did enjoy having more time to spend at the shop. It was 7am sharp when he unlocked the door, the familiar bell tingling to indicate entry as he flipped on the light switches, immediately soaking in the smell of the books with a smile to himself. Now to begin on the opening checklist he knew so well. Step one, lock the door to avoid any early customers. Check. Step two, count the money and open the register up. Check. Step three, check displays and ensure that bookmarks are orderly and the magazines are sitting neat. Check. Step four, go through aisles and ensure that books are neatly lined up and in alphabetical order. This step takes a while so it is vital to keep an eye on the time so that at precisely 8am the door can be unlocked again. Logan does his job thoroughly until he checks this one off as well, standing behind the register to organize the pens and highlighters, ensuring there is receipt tape in the printer. At 7:58 he pulls his apron on over his head, unlocking the door with a soft click of the lock, straightening a display of books as he passed by.

It was not unusual for Logan’s coworker to be late to his morning shift. Patton Hart seemed to always arrive at 8am dull rather than sharp, but he always made up for it in some way so it was quite hard to get mad at him. Today, for example, he skipped in at nearly 8:15, but he was holding two cups of coffee and a pastry bag.

“Sorry I’m late!” Patton apologized, reading the side of one of the cups before handing it to Logan. “Remy was extra chatty at the coffee shop today...but here you go! Large black coffee and a blueberry muffin.”

Logan thanked the other, taking the coffee and sipping at it. He had already had a cup before leaving home but it wouldn’t hurt to have another. He had already eaten breakfast so he tucked the muffin under the counter for later. Patton went into a small room behind the counter to set his belongings down and clock in, returning in his apron and a smile.

“I need to know what book you plan on reading for the kids on Saturday so a display can be set up,” Logan stated, looking over the short list of events the shop had planned. Patton hosted book readings for young children every once in a while and it was always a hit, bringing in lots of revenue for the shop. Another reason he could get away with being late.

“Oh! I was thinking If You Give a Mouse a Cookie,” he replied. “We just got a shipment in of those, right? I thought it might work out nicely especially since I did the Pigeon books last time.”

“Excellent,” Logan nodded, approving the idea by penciling it onto the schedule next to the time slot for Patton’s Reading Circle.

It wasn’t a very busy day, but it went by seemingly quickly with lots to do. Logan sat in the office for a good two hours, filling out orders for the shipment they would receive on Wednesday, making sure to get any special requests customers had ordered. When that was done he went about reorganizing the science section, making room for a new book that would be gracing the shelves and placing a space-holder in the meantime. Patton had been fluffing up the pillows on the cushiony chairs set around the store and dusting off shelves and cleaning the windows down. When a customer came in one of them would help them find what they wanted then ring them up, that bell by the door always chiming to alert them. The peaceful and known routine was part of what made Logan happy. Around noon he excused himself to the back to eat the muffin Patton had brought this morning, letting the other know that his break was scheduled in about an hour when their third coworker arrived.

When it came to Virgil Storm it was always a toss up. He was either early or late, never on time. Today however he chose to be early, walking in fifteen minutes before one, nodding a hello to both Logan and Patton as he headed to the back, sipping on an iced coffee with a tired expression. He came back out with his apron on, the cord of his headphones hanging out of his pocket a little bit as he started his usual rounds around the store. Aside from Logan, Virgil was definitely the most detail oriented.

Logan excused Patton for his break, perching on a stool behind the register and pulling out a large binder to work on some scheduling for the next few weeks. Always better to get things done in advance, of course. The bell rang and Logan looked up to greet the customer but saw it was just Roman, Virgil’s boyfriend.

“Hello, Roman,” he nodded, getting a greeting back before Roman was off to find Virgil.

Logan had never seen Roman actually read a book, but he did buy them every so often, mostly ones about theater or anything that had a dragon on the cover. He was just charming enough to have won over Mr. Sanders on the few times they had crossed paths in the shop, but really he only served as a distraction. Today wasn’t busy so Logan let him stay for a little while before leaving his post at the register to check on how he was interfering with Virgil today.

“Roman, if you shadow Virgil any longer I’m going to hand you an apron and consider it your training,” he warned lightly.

“Okay, okay,” Roman started. “He’s just showing me some new fantasy stuff, I promise I’ll be a paying customer this time.”

Logan decided to believe him, returning to his post at the register and continuing to pencil names onto a schedule, trying to work around the names to fit something that was fair for everyone. Then of course he would send it to Mr. Sanders for approval before posting it on the bulletin board in the room behind the counter. The bell rang again and Logan looked up to greet a customer or say hello to Patton who surely was due back from his break soon but was instead met with the most interesting person he had ever laid eyes on.

This man was all broad shoulders and wild hair, a streak of white gracing the front of his curls and a mustache that was twirled at the ends in ways Logan thought only the men in Victorian romance novels sported. He was somewhat dressed for the warm weather outside in a mossy green tank top that hung obscenely off his body, showing off an octopus tattoo on his left shoulder with the tentacles creeping down his upper arm, and black jeans that were more rips than pants. His eyes scanned around the bookshop, landing on Logan for a second too long to be played of as a passing glance.

“Roman! If you don’t quit making out with Virgil against a bookshelf I’m gonna leave your ass here,” the man said just a little too loudly for proper bookshop etiquette.

“Hey, shuddup,” Roman said, emerging from the shelves with a book in his hand. “Remus, I thought you were shopping down the street.”

“I was, then I got bored. Hey, this place is weird. I don’t think I’ve ever been in here,” the man - Remus - said, picking up one of the display books and flipping it open, only to put it back down in a way that wasn’t remotely how he had found it. “C’mon, I wanna swing by the park and chase the geese before we head home. Hurry up.”

Logan found that he had been watching the interaction, his scheduling forgotten as Roman came and set his selection on the counter, Remus following behind him and messing up the neat displays of knick-knacks on the counter.

“Told you I’d buy a book,” Roman said with a grin. “Oh, this is my brother by the way. Sorry he’s loud.”

Remus flicked Roman on the back of the head. “Am not. This place is just super quiet,” his eyes trailed over Logan in a way that was enough to make him feel like he was being dissected. “Nice to meet you, Specs.”

“And you as well,” Logan said, ringing up Roman’s book and sliding it into a paper bag, cuing him up to pay. Though with how brash this man was he wasn’t sure if that was an entirely true statement. “Roman, you’re good to go. Have a nice day.”

Logan watched the two brother’s leave, sighing lightly as he closed the scheduling binder and sticking it back under the counter. Patton came back with a happy wave and a box of donuts that he set in the back for them all to pick at when they wished. He let Patton watch the register, moving to clean up the damage that Remus had left behind to his strictly ordered displays. Well, hopefully that wouldn’t be a continuous issue. Remus seemed like he read books even less than Roman, though Logan couldn’t deny there was something illogically intriguing about how unrestrained Remus had been.

[bibislut]

Hello!! I'd love love LOVE if I could get a bit of a longer fic of Loki x Female Reader. The reader is a member of the Avengers and she has it BAD for Loki. They are very close but she does not think he would ever return those feelings. She is sent on a stealth mission but it goes wrong. She ends up in a sex trafficking hustle and she is a virgin. Loki notices she doesn't come back and gets worried and he rescues her before anything bad happens.

Hi! This is a fantastic prompt, and I hope I’ve done it justice!

This was a little out of my comfort zone simply because I’ve never written much action before, but I’m pretty damn happy with the result!

Word count: 4263

Warnings: Strong language, talk of sex trafficking, talk of r*pe. Nothing sexually explicit.

You sip slowly at your coffee, letting the feeling of the hot liquid oozing down your throat ease your hunched up body. 

Last night you had drunk a few too many glasses of wine, and few too little glasses of water. You trace the lines of the polished oak wood table before you, really wishing you could go back to bed. Leaning back in your chair, you take another sip as Fury's voice carries around the room.

"..simple enough for soldiers such as yourselves.." You tune him out again, the other six members of your stealth squad rigid in their seats, eyes studying the director carefully, listening silently to every word he says. 

Your eyes come into focus again as a familiar silhouette appears on the other side of the glass wall. Loki walks past nonchalantly, hands stuffed into his dark wash jeans, green t-shirt clinging deliciously to his chiseled torso. It really is unfair how gorgeous he is. You watch as he goes up to the coffee machine and presses the button for a latte. Snorting into your cup, you push your thoughts out to him. 

~Tosser ~

You know full well that he's only come down to the briefing floor to wind you up, with a perfectly good coffee machine on your own floor. 

~ Oh absolutely, my dear ~

The silken sound of Loki's voice whispers lowly in your ear, unheard by others in the room. You watch as his large hand reaches out to wrap around the paper cup.

~ Good luck, today ~

You scowl at him as he turns around and winks at you before striding away.

~ Piss off ~ 

A small smile plays at his lips just before he leaves your line of vision. He was the prick who had suggested a movie marathon last night, helped you demolish half of the wine fridge and now got to stay at the Tower all day, doing fuck all. It really wasn't fair. Maybe when you got back you could have a little revenge, cover his bedroom ceiling in pictures of Thor or something, maybe hide some photos in his drawers and pillow cases. Something he couldn't quickly magic away. 

You smirk. That might just work.

"Agent!" Fury's voice carries around the room and you flick your eyes over to him. He smiles sardonically. "Nice of you to join us."

"You're welcome." You smile back sweetly and his jaw twitches. "Don't worry, Director. I've already read the brief, and you said it yourself, the mission should be easy enough." The lie flows easily from your lips. 

"Jesus fuck, you're as bad as Stark with that mouth of yours. It's not appreciated, Agent."

"It's part of why you keep me around."

"Uh-huh." He grunts and drops the file he was holding onto the table. "Briefing concluded. You're all to be on the jet in 30 minutes."

The soldiers around you all stand up and you clear out with them. You need a filthy helping of grease, and have just enough time to leg it to the burger van a couple blocks away.

-----

You throw the dirty napkins in the bin and wash your hands, running over the brief in your mind. The hard drive you're being sent to retrieve is in the basement of an abandoned gym in one of the poorer neighbourhoods of Atlantic City. A maximum of ten men are expected to be there, all of them with weapons, no more than six of them with military training. The hard drive contains sensitive information which the leader had won in a bet, and was now trying to sell to the highest bidder. Two of your team will take the upper level, another two on the ground floor, and the last two with you in the basement. 

The most stressful thing will be dealing with Williamson's singing on the way back, an awful celebratory habit of his. Thank god he's a good soldier, otherwise you might strap him with a parachute and kick him off the jet. 

-----

“Everyone off. The entry point is three blocks west.” You motion everyone off the jet with your hands before following them as you all jog through the desolate neighbourhood. You all flatten your backs against the wall of the next door building, and you creep forwards to peer ahead. A lone man stands outside the door, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he looks around. Although dressed casually, you can see the handgun tucked into his waistband. You slide the silencer onto your gun and take aim.

His body falls to the ground with a soft thud and you wave to the others to follow. Williamson moves in front of you to kick the door down and you aim over his left shoulder as the two of you take down the men inside before they can shout out. Peters and Edwards push forward into the building ahead of you, and the other four follow you to the staircase on your right. Williamson and Smith take the stairs up and you wave Johnson and Willows down with you. 

As you descend, the throbbing in your head returns and you rub your forehead, willing it to go away. The door in front of you is slightly ajar and you hold your hand up to stop the others as you listen closely.

“...the new lot are waiting by the docks, should be leaving in an hour or so.” A gruff voice says.

A high pitched laugh rings out. “Any of them any good?” 

“As if you could afford one, Anderson.” A third man snickers. 

Perfect, they’re not expecting you. You nod to the other two before pushing the door open. The men are sitting around a table, and you shoot one in the chest before the other two have even stood up. Johnson ducks as the smaller guy shoots, and you land a bullet in his throat before he can turn to you. 

The rest of the room is empty, with a door on the left and right. “Johnson, Willows. You take the right, I’ll take the left.” You whisper and they nod.

You press your ear to the door on the left. It’s mostly silent, except for the clacking of computer keys. Only one guy it seems. You kick the door open, gun raised at the man behind the computer.

Time seems to slow as your finger rests on the trigger, a flicker of surprise gracing your features at the young man in front of you; spotty skin, a star trek t-shirt stained with ketchup and a poor attempt at what is probably his first mustache.

You shouldn’t hesitate, you never have before. Maybe it’s the headache, maybe it’s something else, but either way - you know you’ve fucked up as a large figure looms in your peripheral vision to your right. You barely leap out of the way before the giant of a man’s fist punches through the air where your head was. You spin to face him, back to the young guy as you shoot straight through the big guy’s head. Turning quickly back around, you lift your gun again, expecting to see the younger guy’s face.

Instead, you see the fist of a man double your size, right before it lands on your face. You fly back against the wall, gun falling from your grip. Your head spins and vision blurs as you try to lift yourself to your feet. 

“Not so fast, pretty girl.” The brute’s giant hand wraps around your throat as shouts sound out around you. He drags you by your throat as you kick out, scratching at his fist, towards an open door at the back of the room. He drags you past several men as Johnson and Willows burst into the room, shooting at them. They disappear from sight as you’re dragged through the door into a dim hallway. You gasp for air, your vision growing dark as the blood is restricted to your head. Just as you black out, you feel yourself being hauled over the brute’s shoulder.

----

When you wake, your head is pounding and everything hurts. You’re cold, and everything is so bright. You squint around the room, taking in the concrete walls, the concrete floor, the fluorescent lights. Opposite you is a window of one way glass, and just in front of it, a camera on a tripod, the flashing red light indicating that it is recording. You look yourself over and realise with a jarring shiver that you’ve been stripped and given a simple white dress, your legs and shoulders exposed. As you do this a rattle sounds next to you and you gasp, clutching at your neck and feeling the metal collar wrapped around it. The back of it has a chain attached, and when you stand on shaky legs, you realise the chain is attached to the middle of the wall. You don’t bother to pull at it, knowing full well that it won’t budge.

The chain allows you to move about six feet away from the wall, but no further, definitely not close enough to kick at the tripod or touch the glass. The girl in the mirror looks awful, dark circles under her eyes and bruises around her neck, skin grey in the light. You grind your teeth, more angry than scared. Ten men! What a load of bullshit! They had at least fifteen in the building, and if Fury could get his fucking facts straight, you would’ve been more prepared!

You stop your gnashing as the door to the left of the camera clangs, the sound of several bolts being opened, before it swings open to reveal two men. The first, a tall, balding man in a suit, smiles at you coldly. The second is dressed in all black, clutching a rifle.

They stop next to the camera as the door slams shut behind them, echoing around the chamber. 

“Do you know why you are here?” The first man drawls, his voice like a serpents. 

You smirk at him. “You’re gonna torture me for information. Good luck with that by the way, I’ve been trained by the best. You won’t hear a peep from me.”

He snickers, covering his mouth with his hand and you try not to show your unease. “I have no use for your information, sweetheart.” He stares over at you like he can see through your dress. “No, your mind is not what I value. Your body will fetch a much higher price.”

You clench your jaw at his words, trying not to let the fear creep into you. 

He steps forwards, arms behind his back as he looks you up and down. “There are many out there who would love to have one of SHIELD’s operatives in their hands. It’s a much more personal way to… take out their grievances.”

You fight the urge to step back, away from him; and instead raise your chin at him, not looking away. 

He chuckles. “Look at that, such bravery. I do wonder how long that will hold out.” He turns away, walking back towards the wall before leaning nonchalantly against it. “I saw you, you know, when they brought you here. So beautiful, so vulnerable.” He licks his lips. “Such a lovely body too, what a shame we can’t hear how nicely you beg.” Your hands twitch by your sides, itching to cover yourself. “Tell me, are you a virgin?”

You still, not allowing yourself to do anything that will give away an answer, but that seems to be answer enough. He claps his hands in joy, pushing himself off the wall in excitement. “You are! Oh, how wonderful! We can double the price now.” He chortles to himself.

“Fuck you.” You spit at his feet, straining against the chain.

“Not me darling, but someone else. Soon.” He taps his hand on top of the camera. “Do you know why we record you? So that the buyers can get a taste for the product they’re buying; and you, sweetheart, are the newest in a long line of girls who have been in our special store.”

He picks up the camera and switches it off, handing it to the other man. “Don’t fret. You won’t be in here too long, we’ve already received some interest.”

The man knocks on the door and it opens again. “Toodles.” He wags his fingers at you before striding out.

The door shuts behind the two, and you hear the bolts sliding into place. They’re really not taking any chances with you, are they? You sit back against the wall, and run your hands through your hair. You have no idea how long has passed since you arrived at the original mission site, but it’s surely not more than a few hours. They had definitely drugged you in some way to get you here, but you were confident that they hadn’t… violated you. You shiver, closing your eyes and bowing your head.

You’d be found, right? Before.. Before you were bought by whatever despicable human wanted this kind of perverse thing. You had been wanting to lose your virginity for a while, but the right time never seemed to come around, and by the time it did, your mind was occupied with something , well, someone, else. You sure as hell aren’t going to go down without a fight, but the fear grips you tightly and blink away the tears. What if you don’t have a choice? What if they.. No. You’re not going to think about it. 

You trust the team. You trust him. Loki. He had been your rock since you joined the team, the one you clicked with the most. His quiet wit, and his loud exclamations when you got him alone. His gorgeous smile, and the amused looks he reserved only for you when the others did something stupid. The way he had taught you how to project your thoughts to him, and no one else, a private thing between the two of you. He was your best friend. And yes, maybe you had been hoping to lose your v-card to him, but that didn’t really matter now, as long as it wasn’t some evil bastard on the other side of the glass. Fuck, if you got out of here in time, you might finally grow the balls to actually tell him how you feel. He wouldn’t reciprocate of course, but at least you wouldn’t have to hide it anymore. The thought of Loki in a slutty priest costume swims into your head. “You have a confession?” The absurdity of it makes you smile, a small reprieve from the worry itching itself through your veins.

You allow yourself to drift off into a daydream of different members of the team in ridiculous outfits, Thor as a ballerina, Tony in a unicorn onesie, Nat as Director Fury, and soon enough drift off to sleep.

-----

You wake to the sound of scraping metal, and look up at the man in the suit as he carries in a tray of food and a glass of water. He slides it over to you, some of the water spilling over the edge of the paper cup. An apple and two slices of buttered bread lie on the tray, no plate, nothing you can use as a weapon.

“I wouldn’t usually bring a girl their food myself, but I thought I’d let you know some exciting news!” He exclaims in an exaggerated tone.

You say nothing, gulping down the water as he watches your throat move. “We’ve had a tremendous response to your tape. The top six bidders will be here tomorrow morning to see you in person.”

He smiles at you in mock kindness. “Make sure you rest up well, I imagine you’ll be quite busy tomorrow.” He laughs, heading towards the door.

You stand up quickly, holding out a hand. “Wait!” He turns back, an eyebrow raised. “Could I please use the toilet?”

He smiles coldly. “Of course, I can't have you soiled when the buyers arrive.” He gestures to someone outside the door and two men walk in, dressed just as the other guy was earlier, holding guns. “Please escort her to the lavatory.” He leaves the room and the two men look at you.

“Face the wall, palms to the wall.” The one on the right barks and you do as you’re told. You feel one of them come up behind you, moving your hair out of the way and you feel sick. The jingle of keys sounds and then you feel the neck restraint slacken. Two pairs of hands grab an arm each, and they lead you away between them, your restraint falling to the floor. Outside the door is a long hallway lined with doors, all of them shut tight. You get the distinct feeling that you are underground and struggle to keep up with the guards' long strides. When you reach the end of the hallway, it opens up into a larger room, where a woman in a white lab coat is bustling about. A young girl, perhaps 17 or 18 lies unconscious on a bed, a large gash on her head. It looks as if the doctor is stitching her up. The guards pull you around the side of a curtain to see a toilet. They let you go and push you towards it. They don’t turn away, amused looks on their faces as your skin flushes. You lift your skirt, squatting down. You try to focus on something else, utterly mortified as they watch you. You reach for the toilet roll and wipe, turning around to flush the toilet.

This is the only chance you might get. You launch yourself backwards into one of the guards, grabbing his arm and shifting your weight to throw him over your shoulder. He wacks his head on the bowl of the toilet, but you don’t stop. Hitting the other guard’s pressure points, you pull the gun from his grasp, sliding it across the room. You put one foot on the unconscious guard’s body, using the momentum to launch yourself onto the other guard, hitting him repeatedly with your elbows as he tries to pry you off. You land an especially hard blow and he stumbles, allowing you to kick off him and push him into the wall which he slides down. You skid around the curtain, the doctor shielding the unconscious girl’s body as she looks at you with wide eyes. 

“Please you have to help me, how do I get out of here?!” You try not to scream the words but she just looks at you. “¿Dónde está la salida?” You say, hoping maybe she speaks spanish. The sounds of boots on concrete thunder towards the room from down the hallway and you shake her shoulders. “Please!” Again, she says nothing.

You grab a scalpel off of the tray beside her, wielding it in front of you as guards come pouring into the room. One, two, three, four, five, six. All of them aiming at you. You drop the scalpel, holding your hands up in surrender.

-----

You don’t sleep a wink all night, just staring at the wall, your back aching from the unforgiving floor. What if you’re not found in time? What if you’re sold like a slave? Images of what could happen flash through your mind and you wipe at the tears that threaten to spill over. You have to hope, you can’t give into the fear so easily.

It feels like an eternity, this waiting. Eventually, you hear voices outside. “I think you’ll find she’s much to your liking, gentleman.” The clang of the bolts sliding sounds and you push yourself back against the wall, pulling your dress as low as it will go, and yet it still won’t cover your knees. Your heart pounds in your ears as the guy in the suit walks in, followed by six other men. Your eyes lock on the second to last’s and the lights in the room flicker. Loki.

Now with short blonde hair, and wearing a cream suit; he looks almost nothing like himself. And yet you’d know those ice blue eyes anywhere, those cheekbones, those lips - usually lifted in laughter but now pressed tight together. His eyes blaze with anger as he takes you in, covered in bruises, hunched against the wall. Your heart beats so loudly you’re sure everyone can hear it, and you look away quickly, not wanting to let your reaction give anything away.

~ Stay calm ~ You send your thoughts out to him.

~ My love, what have they done to you? ~ Your eyes dart back to his as the lights flicker again. His voice in your ear brings tears to your eyes as relief floods you. He’s never called you that before.

~ You need to keep your magic under control ~ 

“...bidding at 1.5, gentlemen?” The man’s voice draws you back to the room. A larger guy licks his lips at you as he raises his hand.

“Wonderful. What about 1.75? Anyone?”  Loki raises his hand and you shiver.

“Excellent. Anyone have two million for one of SHIELD’s own?” 

~ We have to delay them, the team is almost here ~ Loki’s voice in your ear is like silk, and makes you feel stronger just from hearing it.

You gulp as another man raises his hand. You had been trying so hard to contain your emotions , but if you’re gonna slow this down, you need to put on a show. 

“Fuck you!” You spit, clambering to your feet. “I dare you, fucking try me!” You scream it, letting yourself feel the anger, breathing heavily.

The men laugh at you. “Isn’t she so feisty?” One says. 

“Mmm indeed.” Another agrees and raises his hand.

“Two million, lovely. Anyone going for two and a quarter?” 

You scream, throwing yourself forward until the chain pulls painfully at your throat. “Come here you bastard, and let me give you two million dollars worth.” You reach your hands out like a mad woman, clawing at the air in front of the men. 

“May I?” Loki asks, stepping forwards towards you with fake curiosity. 

“Oi! Who said you get to touch her?!” One of the men shouts, pulling Loki back. He spins around, towering over the guy.

“Gentlemen please, let us continue the auction.” The man says and Loki straightens his blazer, returning to the wall. 

Gun shots ring out down the hall and all of them men look over to the open door. “If you’ll excuse me.” The man says, rushing from the room. 

“Looks like it’s free dibs.” One of the men says, eyeing you up. You stumble backwards as you lock eyes with him, and then another man punches him.

Apparently that is all that is needed for a brawl to break out, and you back against the wall, watching as Loki drops something, nonchalantly kicking it back to you as he throws a punch. The hook pick slides across the floor and you scramble to pick it up, sliding it into the lock around your throat. You jiggle it, almost laughing in elation as it releases, and you rip it from around your throat. When you look up, four of the men lay on the floor unconscious, and Loki slams the last against the wall, smashing his head into the concrete. 

He turns around, his glamour falling away to reveal his long black hair and leather suit. Tears pour down your face as he pulls you into his embrace, shushing you. “My little dove, I’m here.” He coos at you and you cry harder at the nickname he reserves for special occasions. 

“I was so worried… I thought.. I thought you might not find me in time.” You sob into his chest.

“Sshh, I will always be here for you.”

“Promise me.” You let your walls down with your words, and Loki sinks to the floor with you in his lap.

“I promise, my love.”

You sniffle, pulling away from him. “Don’t call me that. You don’t mean it.”

He chuckles. “Is this really the place for confessions?”

The image of him in a slutty priest outfit flashes through your head and you give a watery laugh. “Because of the unconscious cunts on the floor?”

“I mean, partly.” He says, smoothing your hair behind your ears as you wipe your face.

“Are we safe?” You ask, knowing he can sense the energies around.

“Yes, the others are waiting just outside.”

“Then yes, it is the place for confessions. I was so scared Loki…”

“Sshh it’s okay.” He rubs the pads of his thumbs over your cheeks.

“No, it’s not. Because through everything I was so scared that I wouldn’t get to see you, get to tell you..” You break off, tears threatening to pour again.

“I know, little dove.” He tilts your chin up to make you look at him and strokes your hair. “I love you.” He whispers the words, and your tears spill over at the sight of his own eyes shining with tears, at hearing him say the words you had waited so long for.

“I love you too, Loki.” You hold onto him tightly, and he squeezes you, letting you cry.

After several long minutes, you pull away, wiping the snot from your face. “Sorry, I probably look disgusting.”

“Be quiet. You look as gorgeous as ever.” He stands, offering you a hand. He shrugs out of his long leather jacket, draping it over your shoulders. “Let’s get you home, pet.”

****************

Hope you enjoyed!

My fic requests are open! Please refer to this post for more info!

[walkerwords]

“The Bourbon Drinker and the Brute” Negan x F!Reader

Summary: When you are trying to relax mid-apocalypse, Negan comes across you while he is on his way back to Alexandria, dragging Rick and Carl along. What happens when he tries to engage with you in conversation? Will you humor him? Essentially, you meet Negan while he's on the road and you are less than impressed.

Word Count: 1944

Warning: mention of past abuse, swearing, drinking, negan being negan

Song I Wrote To: “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage The Elephant

Notes: This is also posted on my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23147752

-----

The apocalypse was not something you would have thought would happen while you were alive. 

The Dead rising? That was something that was from movies and comic books, not seen from your backyard. You had been on your own since the start of the infection and would occasionally find groups, but it never lasted longer than a few weeks. You started to realize that maybe the humans were worse than the dead.

Everyone knew that some of the Living were trying to build a new world order. There was talk about communities rising out of the rubble, but you always stayed clear of any place that had barbed wire and walls. It wasn’t ideal to be on your own all the time, but you figured it was better than being under the rule of someone who felt the need to be the new advocate for humanity. Especially when they had guns. 

Shortly after the initial wave of the Dead, you found out that noise was the worse thing. You had a pistol, still did for emergencies, but your preferred weapon was the bow in your hands and the quiver on your back. You learned to shoot at a young age. Your grandfather was an archer and your mother as well. It was her bow that you carried. You didn’t know if either of them were still alive, but you kept that hope in your heart as you made your way across the southern states of America.

Sleep was hard to come by and being alone meant nobody was there to be a lookout. You started by locking yourself in old hotel rooms and abandoned schools, but you soon found that being indoors only made the Dead smell you more and so you took to the outdoors whenever the weather allowed it. Your favourite place was trees and you’ve even been lucky to find empty tree houses in which you removed the ladders and scaled the trees. You made camp there until you ran out of supplies and had to be on the move once again.

On the rare occasions that you ran into people, you stayed hidden and prayed that they wouldn’t discover you. It happened a lot at first, but now, people were rare in the more rural areas. Either they had found shelter, fell victim to the Dead, or they had even joined the Dead themselves. It was just the way it was, people weren’t around anymore.

However, that changed the day you met a group that terrified and also annoyed you to no end. You knew you were risking it being so close to what you called a safe haven. It was reckless to be in a territory you knew was run by armed men and women, but supplies were short and so you had to make runs. A recent one gained you a new bottle of bourbon that was not only delicious, but much needed.

So, there you were, laying in the bright Southern sun, on the ledge of an abandoned pedestrian bridge. Both sides had been blown out by someone or torn apart by something and barricaded to restrict access, so you had to climb a few of the overgrown vines. However, you were just glad to be up high and even let your right leg swing lazily off the side.

It was around midday when you were keeping your ears open for the dead and you heard the rumbling of multiple cars. It wasn’t unheard of to hear the odd engine, but nowadays it was rare. You tried to stay clear of the people in the area and now you were regretting the bourbon run even more so. You kept your breathing even as the procession of vehicles stopped before your bridge and many men and women filed out of the cars, guns in hand. You lazily lift your bottle to your lips. It’s nearly empty and you’re enjoying it till the last drop. You take another pull when you hear the brutish voice from down below.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” You prop yourself up onto your elbows, securing yourself with your dangling leg, and look down at the man. He is clearly the leader. He wears a wolfish grin on his stubbled face and a leather jacket on his back. In his right hand, he holds a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.

He swings it up onto his shoulder as he looks up at you, “Looks to me like we have a little loner here, hey Rick?” The brute looks over his shoulder at another man who looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else than near the man with the bat. A kid is next to the one called Rick, his son, you guess due to the matching expression that was a near mirror to the first man. You take another drink, getting to the end of the bottle. “What’s your name, Darlin’?” the first man asks. 

“Not ‘Darlin’,” you shoot back. He whistles, pressing his hips forward like a bad Travolta impression.

“Well, aren’t you something? What are you doing up there all by your lonesome self?” You raise the bottle so he can see it better. 

“Drinking,” You call back. You lift it to your lips and down the rest of the bourbon. He watches you, clearly amused. When you’re done, you drop the bottle off the side of the bridge. It breaks against a boulder, shattering into many pieces. “Sorry, that was my last bottle.”

“Fuck, you really are a little spitfire.” You stare down at him. “Still waiting on that name,” he says and since he didn’t use some ridiculous pet name, you humor him.

“(Y/n),” you say. 

“Well, (y/n),” he smiles and a laugh comes right after, “why don’t you come down from there?” You glance at the army at his back. It becomes obvious he is a leader of one of the nearby forts that make you nervous. However, you would be lying if you said he didn’t make you curious.

“I think I’m good up here, Bruce,” you shoot back. He frowns at the name you give him. 

“The name’s Negan,” he says.

“I think it's a joke,” The kid next to Rick says, gaining Negan’s attention. “Bruce as in Bruce Wayne. Batman.” The kid gestures to the baseball bat on Negan’s shoulder. Negan howls at your bad joke, reaching over to slap the kid on the shoulder who tries not to shake off the man’s hand. 

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I ain’t no fucking superhero,” Negan says.

“Neither was Batman,” you finish, causing him to laugh again. 

“Well, okay then. So, listen (y/n), here’s what I want,” You cut him off. 

“Oh, I know what you want. You’re one of them looters. You want my supplies. But here’s the thing, I only have the clothes off my back, the knife in my boot, and a bow without arrows. A bow that you’d have to kill me for and tear from my undead hands if you want it. So, keep moving, Bruce, and leave me to get some much-needed sleep.” Negan whistles gaining timid laughter from behind him. Rick was looking between you and the brute as if trying to figure out who was going to win. 

“I ain’t too fucking keen on people telling me what to do, Darlin’,” You lay back down, swinging your leg once again. 

“Name’s not ‘Darlin’, Bruce, and the way I see it is that you can either get back into your car and leave me the hell alone or you and your merry men can drag my ass off this bridge and put a bullet in my head twice over,” You say bluntly. The group was quiet, clearly not expecting those words to come out of your mouth.

“How about this?” Negan says, “I see a third option.”

“I don’t,” you call. He was quiet again. “I’ve survived alone for a long time. I tried it with people before and it did not end well for me or them. Therefore, I’ll take my chances because either the Dead kill me or you do,” you look down at him, narrowing your eyes, “your move.”

“You just love to be disrespectful, don’t you?” Negan taunts.

“It’s the damn apocalypse, honey, respect is pointless.” Light entered his eyes as if he had finally met his match. “So,” you continued, “with the utmost respect, fuck off.” Immediately, you hear a gun cocked in your direction and you move. You notch an arrow, spinning onto your left knee, raise your bow and pull back. You aim at the man with the mustache to Negan’s right.

Negan glances between his man and your steady hands. “Thought you didn’t have any fucking arrows,” Negan calls. 

“I lied,” you sneer.

“Simon, drop your fucking weapon,” Negan orders and he does. Negan then hands the bat to the kid who takes it as if he has been asked to do it before. Negan takes a couple of steps closer to you and you retrain your weapon on him. He raises his hands. “No need for violence, a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be concerned with the likes of me.”

“Call me a stupid pet name one more time,” you warn, keeping him in your sights. 

“I’m assuming the last man who called you that didn’t get an arrow pointed at him,” Negan grins.

“You’re right,” you nod, “he just got a knife to the groin. Sudden castration is an unfortunate side effect of being a rapist.” Something flares in his eyes and you could tell that even if he was a killer, Negan would never lay a hand on a woman uninvited.

“That why you’re alone?” he asks. 

“Beats the alternative.”

“Yes ma’am it does,” he says. “I’ll tell you what Miss (y/n), you’re a fucking fighter and I respect that. So I will remember you. You stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours. That sound good to you, Grimes?” He asks Rick.

Rick nodded to him with a sigh of relief. Rick then met your eyes and nodded to you. You decided then and if you were to cross paths with them again, Rick would be the one you’d trust.

You lower your weapon.

“I’d say we have a deal...Negan,” you say. The brute smiles up at you. Then from his jacket, he produces a small bottle. He tosses it up to you. You catch it and smile at the small bottle of whiskey. 

“Peace offering,” he says. “I’ll see you again, (y/n). Dead or alive, we’ll cross paths again,” Negan says as he struts back to his truck. The kid hands Negan the bat back and Negan gets into the driver’s seat. You keep a firm grip on your bow as the vehicles cross under the bridge. You watch until they disappear over the hill in the distance.

Tucking the mini bottle into your boot, you lay down and listen to the groaning of the dead in the distance. Your heart slowly leaves your throat. You hadn’t been that scared in a long time. You had perfected the mask to keep people at bay, but you knew that if he had been any closer, he would have seen the sweat on your brow and the slight shaking of your leg. You only hope that Negan didn’t see through it and that he would keep his word.

You stay out his way and he would leave you alone. Problem was, a part of you didn’t know if you wanted him to leave you alone and that scared the hell out of you even more. 

[waywardodysseys]

Alive - Oneshot

Pairing: Ezra x female reader

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex (wrap it up), oral receiving (m & f), use of sex pollen to resolve sexual tension

Requested?: Yes from this ask - Do you think you could try your hand at a sex pollen fic? I think it would work for Ezra, but I will let you choose who you want to write it for, if you want to write one at all.

Author’s note: gif by @lucy-sky​; first sex pollen fic I’ve done - I hope you all enjoy!

~   ~   ~

Ezra looks down at the flower. Its purple petals are vibrant against the grass green floor of the alien moon. The filaments and anther of the flower are blood red. He can’t help but wonder what this flower smells like.

Ezra looks around, sees you’re busy packing the supplies.

She won’t notice, he thinks as he reaches out and rips it out from its home in the soil.

“Are you ready?” Your voice cuts through the stillness.

Ezra pockets the flower in his bag and turns to face you. “Yes.”

You raise your eyebrows. It appears Ezra has been caught red handed at doing something, but you don’t know what.

“Let’s go,” you sigh.

“Sure thing.” Ezra drawls as he walks over to you.

You begin reaching down for the pack of materials, but Ezra stops you.

“I’ll get it Y/N,” Ezra implies as he picks up the pack and swings it onto his back.

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve done something horrible?” You ask.

Ezra smiles, “I’m just being nice.”

You grimace and keep quiet. Ezra’s a wildcard to you – you never know what he’s going to do or say.

The two you make your way back through a forest, towards your camp. It wasn’t really a camp per se, it was just a red tent setup a few yards away from your landing pod, which is broken.

You and Ezra had been stuck on this green alien moon for close to three months now and you felt like there was no end in sight. You felt as though you and he were going to be stuck on this moon forever.

Once inside the tent, you and Ezra unhook oxygen tubes from one another, then remove your helmets and disrobe your spacesuits, revealing long sleeved thermal shirts and pants.

“Hungry?” You ask as you sit on your bunk.

“Loads of bars Y/N,” Ezra says as he grabs one and throws one at you.

You look at the yellow, red, and silver wrapping. “Still don’t get why you love this.”

Ezra unwraps one and bites into it. “They’re delicious.”

“Says the man who packed cases of ‘em.” You remark.

“Yet you eat them,” Ezra retorts as he sits on his own bunk.

You glare at him and finish the bar. “Because it’s the only thing to eat besides the dry packs. And we’re saving those.”

Silence stretches between you two.

You feel your eyes begin to close minutes later and lie down.

“Tired?” Ezra asks.

“Yes,” you reply. “Let me sleep.”

Ezra watches you as you turn on your side. Your back facing him.

He reaches for his bag, opens it and pulls out the flower. He brings it to his nose and inhales the scent. It reminds him of lavender and honey, it reminds him of Earth.

As he inhales, loose pollen travels into his nostrils and into his body. The pollen seeps into his bloodstream. He doesn’t know the pollen of this flower enhances the libido, increases the sex drive of whoever inhales it, whether another plant, animal, or human.

Ezra inhales again and lies back against his bunk. The smell of lavender and honey fills his nostrils and more pollen seeps into his bloodstream.

Ezra closes his eyes and begins to drift away.

-------

Ezra jolts awake. He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep, doesn’t care.

He looks over at you. His cock hardens instantly at the sight of your sleeping womanly form on the bunk.

He’s aching to touch, taste you, be inside of you.

Ezra removes his thermal top as he gets up from his bunk.

His body is consumed with lust for your body. He looks down at the flower. Could it have been…?

Ezra’s high on desire as he crawls into your bunk. He travels his hand down your side, over your body. He presses his mouth against yours.

Soft, he thinks. Soft. Delicate. Mine.

-------

You wake to the feeling of hands roaming your body, of lips against yours.

You open your eyes and are looking into Ezra’s dark brown eyes. He smiles down at you.

“Hey,” Ezra’s voice is deep and rich, and thick with lust.

You purse your lips. “Um, hey.” You try to sit up, but Ezra pushes you back against your bunk.

Ezra brushes his mouth against yours.

Since you are awake now, you take in the softness of his lips, the prickliness of his mustache against your skin. You feel one of his hands moving down your chest and stomach.

“Eh—Ezra,” you sigh out.

“You taste like powered chocolate,” Ezra moans as he leans down and nuzzles your neck.

“The bar…” you whisper.

“I want to know what you taste like here,” Ezra whispers as he palms your core.

You bite your lip and inwardly moan.

What has gotten into him?, you think.

You reach out and touch him. You aren’t touching the thermal top. You’re touching Ezra’s skin, which is soft and warm.

“Ezra,” you whisper.

“Y/N,” Ezra whispers.

Ezra licks the base of your neck, moving from one side to the other slowly.

“You taste,” Ezra moans, “you taste like soap, and chocolate. Odd combination,” Ezra moans again, “but on you—mmm.”

You suck in a breath as Ezra begins using his thumb to rub against your core. You close your legs, capturing his hand.

Ezra laughs deep and low. “Turned on?” Because he definitely is.

You don’t answer as Ezra grabs your hand; he places it on his thermal pants. He’s hard and you can feel the thickness of his cock.

“Ezra,” you moan.

Ezra leans down and licks your lips.

“What’s going on?” You ask, trying to distract yourself from the way Ezra is consumed with you.

“Well, you and I could be going on.” Ezra replies.

You sigh, “Ezra.”

“I like the way you say my name. Whether it’s an angry tone, light tone, a lusty tone.” Ezra whispers before he dips his head and licks your neck.

Fuck!, your mind screams as heat floods your body and goes straight to your core.

Ezra moves his hand up your body and begins pulling at the zipper of your thermal top. He slowly lowers the zipper, revealing your skin to his brown eyes.

“Beautiful,” he whispers then dips his head and kisses the valley between your breasts. “Soft, warm.”

The sensation of Ezra’s mouth, his mustache, the fuzz on his cheeks is sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your body is on fire.

“Ezra,” you moan.

Ezra pushes aside your thermal top, revealing your breasts to him. He moans as he dips his head and suckles one nipple into his mouth while he flicks the other nipple with his thumb.

“Fuck Ezra!” You hiss loudly as you arch your back.

Ezra moves his mouth to your other nipple.

You moan as you close your eyes and fingers thread through his short brown hair.

Ezra snakes his hand under the fabric of your thermal pants and his fingers run up and down your folds.

“Ezra,” you moan.

Ezra continues licking your nipples, moving from one to the other every few seconds. He slides in one finger, then two into your slick entrance.

With everything Ezra is doing to your body, the pleasure you are experiencing is in overdrive. Your orgasm is revving up inside of you quickly because you haven’t been touched in months by another man and Ezra hasn’t even touched your clit or put his cock inside of you.

Your mind doesn’t want to know what’s gotten into the man. Are you really wanting what Ezra’s offering? Because he’s offering you sex, and himself. All you know, all you want is him to continue what he’s doing, and you want him to do even more.

“Please Ezra,” you beg.

Ezra keeps his fingers in your pussy but lifts his head and looks up at you. He brushes his mouth against yours. “What do you want?”

“You,” you pant.

Ezra kisses you again and pulls away. He stands and removes his thermal pants.

You take in his naked chest and stomach. Your eyes travel further south and take in his hard, thick cock. You swallow. You’ve never seen a cock so lengthy and girthy. You moan just thinking about sucking it and having it inside of you.

You sit up on the bed and reach out to touch it, stroke it.

“Fuck!” Ezra hisses.

You lean forward and lick your tongue around the tip.

“Y/N!” Ezra growls.

You slowly wrap your mouth around his cock, taking it deep. You feel it hit the back of your throat and moan.

Ezra shoves his fingers into your Y/H/C hair and holds your head as your mouth begins moving up and down his cock slowly. The sensation your mouth is giving him is driving him insane. It feels as though he’s experiencing a blow job for the first time again.

“Your mouth—mmm—fuck—so good,” Ezra moans deeply.

You lather his cock with your saliva. You take it out of your mouth and use your hands to stroke his cock. You hold his cock with one hand while your other hand reaches down and squeezes his balls.

Your one hand is on his shaft. You place your mouth on the tip and slowly engulf him again. Your hand moving down his length while your mouth consumes his cock whole again.

“Oh, heaven—mmm—yes,” Ezra moans as his fingers tighten on your hair.

You suck his cock and look up at him through hooded eyelids. You can see he has his head tilted back, mouth agape. He’s thoroughly enjoying your mouth on his cock.

“Baby, please,” Ezra moans.

You release his cock from your mouth and kiss up his soft stomach and chest.

“Fu—fuck,” Ezra hisses. Your touch is revving up his orgasm, your mouth too.

Oh, that mouth, he thinks. Your mouth belongs to me now.

Your hands travel up his body as you stand and place your mouth at the base of his neck.

“Ezra,” you whisper.

Ezra opens his eyes and looks at you. He cups your cheek and pulls your mouth up against his. He moves his tongue against your mouth, and you let him in. Both of your tongues dance together as Ezra pushes your thermal top off your body.

He moves his hands up and down your back, feeling your skin under his rough fingers. He moves his hands to your front and palms your breasts. He flicks your nipples with his thumbs causing you to moan and arch your back.

You pull breathlessly away from him and reach down and stroke his cock. “I need you inside me Ezra.”

Ezra palms your pussy and inserts two fingers in. He moves them in and out slowly.

You moan and press your forehead against his chest. You move your mouth across his skin as he slowly thrusts his fingers in and out your pussy.

“Fuck me Ezra. Please,” you plead.

Ezra withdraws his fingers and places them in his mouth. He moans loudly at your sweetness.

“I’m going to have to taste you more Y/N,” Ezra moans as he pushes you back against the bunk.

You lie down as Ezra kneels on the bunk.

He kisses you softly then moves his mouth across your jawline then down your neck.

His mustache and the fuzz from his cheeks and chin are sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your fingers reach down and run through his hair. You want to run your fingers through his hair every day. You want his mouth on you every day.

You hadn’t thought of Ezra as nothing more than a work partner, but after what’s occurring right now you want Ezra as more, you want Ezra to be yours and no one else’s.

“Ezra,” you whisper as you feel his mouth move across your stomach slowly.

Ezra stands then bends down as he uses his fingers to pull down your thermal pants, exposing your whole naked body to him.

Ezra eyes roam your body. You’re beautiful. Delicious. His. All his.

He feels alive for the first time in years. He never wants this feeling to end.

You open your legs as you grab his hand and place it against your core. “Taste me. Please Ezra.”

Ezra doesn’t need another invitation. He kneels on the bunk and dips his head.

He opens your folds, exposing your wetness to his eyes. His fingers move up and down your folds slowly. His thumb finds your clit and begins circling it.

“Ezra,” you moan, hanging onto the last syllable of his name.

Ezra dips his head lower. He licks up your folds and replaces his thumb with his tongue.

You suck in a breath and moan deeply. Your fingers find Ezra’s head and thread themselves through his hair.

His tongue against your clit sends volts of electricity through your body and into your blood. Ezra’s tongue is heaven, it’s pure ecstasy. It’s something you want to experience, need to experience again and again after today.

You moan loudly, bite your lip, arch your back. Your orgasm is edging closer to the cliff with every lick of his tongue.

“Ezra,” you whimper as your fingers grasp his hair tightly.

Your orgasm jumps off the cliff and crashes inside of you.

“Ezra,” you pant as the aftershocks of your orgasm course through you.

Ezra licks lightly at your clit, flicking at it. He inserts two fingers into your pussy and pulls them out. He uses your juices to lubricate his cock. He moans at knowing he will be inside of you in minutes.

Your body trembles as Ezra teases your clit. Your hands move to the bunk and grasp the sheets on it.

“Please Ezra,” you plead. You need him inside of you.

Ezra kisses his way up your body. He moans as he feels your hands travel over his shoulders and down his back as he makes his way up your body.

Your touches are feather light and his body’s in overdrive.

Ezra knows once he sinks his cock into your pussy he will be lost, and he will want to be lost in those depths forever.

You watch as Ezra kneels between your open legs. He takes his cock in one hand and leans down towards your pussy. He strokes your wet folds with his cock.

Both of you moan loudly together, saying each other’s names in unison.

He guides his cock to your entrance and slowly, inch by inch, enters your pussy.

“Oh—fu—mmm—,” Ezra moans as he feels your slick walls conform to his cock as he sinks deeper into your depths.

“Ezra,” you moan out as your hands grasp the sheets tightly. His cock stretches you wide, but you remain tight around him as he slowly sinks his entire length into you.

Ezra leans forward and places his hands on either side of your head. He looks down at you with his deep brown eyes. He’s in heaven.

Your pussy is tight, wet, hot around his hard, thick cock. He wants your pussy to know his cock, remember his cock because the thought of you having another after him is sending him into a jealous spiral.

Ezra crushes his mouth against yours and cups your cheek with his hand. He pulls back from you. He’s claiming you now. “You’re mine Y/N.”

“Yours Ezra,” you whisper as you look up at him with your Y/E/C eyes.

You sigh contently as your hands roam up his chest. You’re enjoying this intimate moment of him inside of you, not moving. You needed his cock inside of you and now you have it. You’re unsure if you want him to move but you want to his cock giving you more pleasure.

You reach up with your head and lick his lips.

“Fuck me Ezra,” you whisper against them.

“Oh baby,” Ezra growls as he begins thrusting slowly in and out of you.

You moan loudly as his cock moves in and out of your pussy. Your hands travel up and down his chest and stomach. They reach around to his back where you dig in your fingers.

“Yes—Ezra,” you whisper as you begin feeling him thrusting faster.

You start rolling your hips. Rolling them up to meet his thrusts.

Ezra’s orgasm has already been building inside of him since he had placed his mouth on yours. Now that he’s inside of you, he’s ready to explode. Your pussy around his cock was driving the pleasure sensors in his body into extreme overdrive. And since you are rolling your hips meeting his quick, fast thrusts those sensors are setting off alarms inside of him.

His body is engulfed with the flames of desire, his body is set ablaze with lust.

Ezra growls as he claims your mouth. He kisses you deeply, feverishly. Your mouth is his, your hands are his, your whole body is his.

“Mine,” Ezra pants as he pulls away.

You look at him. You know he is serious.

“You’re mine too Ezra,” you whisper.

Your words do him in and Ezra thrusts into you deeply and explodes inside of you.

“Fu—fuck! Y/N!” Ezra pants as he leans down, kisses you then nuzzles your neck, sucking at your skin.

Your fingers dig deep into his skin. Your fingernails marking his back with ten half-moons as your own orgasm rocks your body. Your pussy clenches Ezra’s cock as you feel your orgasm rolls through you.

“Ezra,” you moan lowly as your hands roam up and down his back. Your fingers sweep up through his hair as you tighten your legs around him. You take in the feeling of his body in between your legs.

He’s welcomed between your legs now and for the rest of your days.

Ezra wraps you in his arms as he moves to his side, which causes his soft cock to slip out of you. He pulls your body with him, and up against him. He runs a hand down your back and over the curve of your ass.

You moan at his touch. Your body still reeling from the orgasms you’ve had.

“Y/N,” Ezra whispers against your mouth before he fuses his with yours.

You cup his cheek and kiss him back. You know you’ll never get enough of him.

“Ezra,” you say breathlessly after you pull away.

Ezra’s intoxicated with you, by you.

“We finally cut the tension between us,” Ezra whispers as he pulls you as close as you can be up against him.

You raise your eyebrows. “It took you this long to act?”

“I think I had some help from a certain flower,” Ezra says because he’s coming down from his high, but he’s still intoxicated with you, will always be.

“Maybe you’ll show me?”

Ezra grins. “Oh, I think one day I will.”

Tags: @mandadl0rian​, @thisainttheway​, @pascalisthepunkest​, @kaelyn-lobrutto24​, @jokersdoll​, @knight-of-heart44​, @longitud-de-onda​, @cosmo-bear​