#ezra redden

[kaaragen]

By the Scenic Route

(A short(ish) fic inspired by this conversation with @stellanslashgeode)

Ahsoka glared at her datapad as if narrowing her eyes further would force the information to align in a way she liked. Sat in the Noti pod that was now her base of operations, the data was refusing to comply. However she spun it, twisted it, rearranged it, pleaded with it, argued, and threatened to throw it against the wall, the datapad was resolute.

No purgil migrations would be happening for another two years. Minimum.

Which meant her chances of escaping Peridia were zilch. Nada. Nought.

She sighed and leaned back against the cold metal of the wall, stretching her legs out across her cot, long lekku draping down toward her waist. Months they’d been out here, with no sign of a way out. She’d briefly scouted the space around the planet with Huyang, scoping with the sensors as far as possible, but wherever Peridia was it was the ass-end of it. Nothing was out there for light years.

And while she was stuck here, Thrawn was back home. Doing who knew what. Yes, sure, she trusted Ezra, trusted Hera and Luke and everyone, but still.

The sound of running feet scuffing through dust twitched her montrals and the sigh was leaving her lips before Sabine even skidded to the open hatch.

“Master!” Sabine shouted, doing nothing for Ahoska’s headache. “The bandits are attacking!”

Ahsoka feathered fingers to her temple. “Sabine, for the love of the Force, can you and Shin find other ways of hanging out...”

Sabine looked affronted, even as her cheeks reddened. “Hang out--what do--they’re murderous, rampaging bandits!”

Ahsoka crossed her arms sourly. “Really? And when was the last time they murdered something more valuable than flowers?”

“I--”

“Never mind!” Ahsoka threw up her hands and stood, storming past Sabine and into the cold light of the village. The Noti looked spectacularly unbothered for people apparently about to be raided, going about their daily tasks of mending the curving, snail-like pods, caring for the children and organising the supplies. A couple poked their eyestalks toward Ahsoka and Sabine but most paid them no mind as Ahsoka strode for her howler, Yoti, snoozing at the edge of the village circle. She gestured and Yoti responded to her presence, yawning and stretching.

“I’m going out,” Ahsoka said, gathering up her saddle and reins and putting them on Yoti, “I place you in full charge of the defence of the village.”

Sabine put her hands on her hips, frowning. “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re welcome Padawan. Enjoy the lightsabre duel. Make sure the plant pots stay safe.” She cracked the reigns and Yoti shot off, bounding across the mottled earth.

“Sheesh...go have a wank or something, don’t take your frustration out on me...” she heard Sabine mutter.

----------------

Ahsoka wasn’t aware of how long she rode, or even where. The light didn’t change much at the best of times, and much of the planet had a drab, hewn grey. But she could pick out some markers to lead her back to the Noti. For everything else, she had the Force.

She breathed deeply. Casting her eyes up into the cloudless day, the pale blue of the sky revealed nothing, save for the purple line cutting across the heavens like a lightsabre blade. Huyang had determined that that phenomenon, whatever it was, was several million lightyears away but was unable to determine what it was. Focusing on it and questing through the Force in the past had brought Ahsoka nothing but a deep, sickly feeling so she’d ignored it since.

What was she going to do? Everything inside her was screaming at her with visions of destruction, death, returning to the galaxy to fine the Empire renewed and everyone she knew gone. Again.

Sometimes she could shut it out. Sometimes she could keep it quiet. But there were nightmares. And during the day, they would intrude into her consciousness, jabbing like needles into her skin.

It was happening again.

She breathed. She let the rhythmic thump of her mount’s stride reverberate. She reached through the echoing pulse of her feet striking the ground. Followed the ripple of its waves into the grass. Followed the pollen leaking from the grass up and up into the air. Followed them as they dappled down, landing across furrowed ground and then some tools and then the sides of a hut and up and up and landing on...

Something...familiar?

She opened her eyes, confused. Ahsoka cast her gaze to the East and directed Yoti to follow a path she hadn’t traversed before. The path led her toward a mountain, where tumbled statues fell across the ground, large stone hands that had once been upraised in triumph now beseeching to anyone passing by. She ignored them, focusing on the horizon getting closer and closer, crossing a small stream.

The curve of the planet unrolled and she came across a small hut with a flat roof, sat at the end of a ploughed field. Several crops poked from the furrows of the ground, some hanging fruits as well as rooted vegetables. Ahsoka swung off the howler, and walked across the field, her eyes never leaving the figure sitting in a cross-legged meditation pose on the hut’s roof.

Ahsoka halted a meter away and stared. “Barriss?”

Barriss Offee, for it was she, cracked open an eye and turned her head slightly. She wore a plain, loose black tunic, a shawl wrapped over her hair, the black freckles of her diamond tattoos across her nose and cheeks standing out from the yellow skin. A few lines streaked her face, but still recognisably her.

“Ah, hello Ahsoka,” she said, closing her eyes again. “My apologies, I’m in the middle of completing an exercise. Would you mind waiting?”

Ahsoka raised a bewildered brow.

Barriss’ eyes flew open and her mouth twisted into a rictus. She toppled off the side of her hut as if she’d had a heart attack.

Thud!

“...Owww...”

Ahsoka looked down at Barriss, rather inelegantly sprawled upside down with her ankles in the region of her ears, wincing at what was an almighty whack to the head when she fell.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ahsoka asked, more in shock than anything else.

“I live here!” Barriss replied. She scooted herself around to a seated position, rubbing the back of her head. She cast a vicious glare at Ahoska, as if she’d missed a ‘private property - keep out!’ sign. “What are you doing here?”

“I...” Ahsoka started and then trailed off. She’d been asking herself that same question, repeatedly. “I...live here too...I guess.”

“You guess? Are you not aware?” Barriss scoffed, getting to her feet. She froze slightly and cast a worried eye at her. “You’re not...you’re not here for...?”

“You? No. Until this moment I had no idea you were here.” Ahsoka frowned. “What are you doing here?”

A dry, mirthless chuckle escaped Barriss’ throat. “What do you think? Hiding. Trying to find some semblance of life away from it all. I had to run to entirely different galaxy to escape my demons.” She paused, her expression falling into a pit. “Seems they found me anyway.”

Ahsoka swallowed. “I’m...Barriss I’m not looking to...” She shook her head. “How did you find your way here?”

“The fairy tales. I always like them. I read up on purgil migration patterns and thought I’d take the chance. Anything was better than...than where I was.” She cleared her throat. “The Inquisitorious...it was...”

“I know,” Ahsoka interrupted. “We found the list.”

She’d spent days staring at it, when she’d seen Barriss’ name among the reports, declared dead some two years after the rise of the Empire. There had been a part of her that had ached. Ached for the loss of closure. For the missed opportunity to talk. But she’d put it away and had largely not thought about Barriss for nearly thirty years.

Now she was suddenly, quietly, back in her life.

She almost couldn’t process it. There was the face she remembered from her youth. Older now, but still her. The person she’d almost died with, multiple times. The person she’d gone through a war with. The person she’d grown up with.

The person she’d felt...

Who had betrayed...

Barriss’ eyes flicked to her, and their gazes hooked into each other for a long moment.

Barriss’ lip trembled. “I...I wouldn’t presume to hope that you’d know...but I want to say that I’m so sorry for--”

“Barriss, stop.”

Just like that, she couldn’t take it anymore. She collapsed into a squat, energy draining out of her. Her arms hung limp over her knees and Barriss said nothing, just watched her.

“I’m...I’m so tired.” Admitting it felt strange, but it came with a pulse of truth. She took a deep breath and ploughed through. “I get it. I don’t agree with what you did, but I understand it. I’ve been fighting, constantly, since I was fourteen years old. The Empire has been gone for twelve years and I’m still fighting. Even now, stuck here, all of my thoughts are about trying to get back, trying to keep fighting, and what will happen if I don’t.

“I was angry with you. I’m not going to lie, I spent a lot of hours imagining confronting you in the aftermath of...of it...”

“Did any of them take place in a galaxy far, far away?” Barriss asked weakly.

Ahsoka cracked a smile. “No, but a spectacular number ended with you getting punched.”

Barriss’ face twitched. “Can’t say I wouldn’t have deserved it.”

“But seeing you, now, just makes me think...that I’m too exhausted for this anymore. I’m too exhausted to stay angry. Or anything.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Barriss cleared her throat. “I don’t...I don’t want to give advice but...if you really can’t get back, then perhaps take that as a sign?”

Ahsoka squinted up at her.

“The Force and I...we don’t have the best relationship. I’m trying to find my way back to it, to let it back into my life. But it’s been good out here. It gave me time to think. To decompress. To...” She waggled her hands. “To rest. Maybe you’re getting a signal that you should do the same?”

Ahsoka swallowed. There as a part of her that rebelled at that idea. That couldn’t stand the idea that she should just leave things be. That wanted to rage against the infinite box she was placed in. But...but what good would it do to even return to the galaxy if she was this tired?

Her confrontation with Anakin had told her something; that death wasn’t the right path. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some rest. That she couldn’t take a break. That she couldn’t let herself truly breathe...

She chuckled softly and stood. Maybe the Force had led her with its pollen path?

“Thanks, Barriss. I think I needed to hear that.”

Barriss smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re welcome, Ahsoka. May the Force be with you.”

Ahsoka nodded and turned to go to Yoti. She reached halfway across the field, before pausing and then swinging back. Barriss stared at her, rooted to the spot, eyes wide and a trembling across her face.

Ahsoka swallowed and opened her mouth--

“Do you want to see my village?”

Barriss blinked. “What?”

Ahsoka squeezed her eyes shut. All the vaunted maturity she’d thought she’d gained over the years fled out of her system and suddenly she was a teenager again, desperate to say something but not knowing how to or even what the something was beyond a vague feeling. But this time the feeling was clear: she wanted her friend back.

She opened her eyes, and there was Barriss and for the first time she saw all the fear that had coagulated in her being. “Do you...do you think we could just pretend that we talked it all out a long time ago? That we moved past it?”

Barriss held still a moment, then she crumpled back against her hut. Her breath came thick and short, and she squeezed her eyes closed. For a moment, Ahsoka thought she was going to vomit, but she seemed to get herself under control.

“I would like that,” she gasped. “I would like that very much.”

A wave of relief, carrying with it a long-buried feeling, settling over her like an old cloak. Not exactly comfy, perhaps, and maybe not fitting right anymore. But comfortable, with the familiar scent providing warmth. She walked to Barriss and lightly put her hand on her shoulder. Barriss looked up at her wide-eyed, hopeful and scared.

“Then let’s do that.” Ahsoka smiled.

-----------------

The ride back was comfortable, the two catching up on the way. Barriss didn’t have much to tell, apart from her “less-than-daring escape” as she put it, and Ahsoka chided her to come up with something more entertaining to tell later. From Ahsoka’s side there was so much.

“So they built two superweapons?” Barriss queried, riding behind Ahsoka on the mount, her hands resting on Ahsoka’s thighs in a light way that suggested she was afraid of touching something scalding.

“Yeah. I think there must have been an underspend in the budget somewhere.”

“And they called this planet killing weapon the Death Star?”

“They sure did.”

“What have they called the solar system destroying weapon? The Sun Crusher? The Starkiller?”

Ahsoka laughed. They crested a rise and came onto view the village, the pods all miraculously undestroyed and unraided.

“Here we are,” Ahsoka said. “It’s not much, but it’s a base.”

“It looks lovely. I’ve traded with the Noti before. Very friendly people. You’ve done well.” Barriss squinted past Ahsoka’s arm. “Are those Scar-Waste Bandits?”

“Yes.” Ahsoka frowned. Alright, this was unusual. Usually the bandits scuttled off after a bit of ritual bellowing and a lightsabre fight between Sabine and Shin, that usually ended with Shin fleeing and threatening vile retribution like some HoloNet serial villain. But this time, they were hanging about. Drinking tea with the Noti, spinning some of the kids in their disc-shaped hats, and generally being pleasant people. Their helmets were off, pale blue skin with green eyes peering out. “This isn’t normal.”

“From my experience, they’re not ones to trade or be pleasant, even when it would be more advantageous to them. But they leave you alone if you give them a sufficiently thorough kicking.”

Ahsoka raised a brow at Barriss, and her cheeks darkened. “They caught me on a bad day and took a potato crop that had just ripened. I’m not perfect!”

Ahsoka slid off Yoti and Barriss followed her through the village. She reached out, trying to locate Sabine and twigged her presence as coming from their pod.

With...someone else...

Ahsoka halted outside of the pod, the hatch door shut. “Sabine?” she called.

Someone swore. There was a fumbling, stumbling noise, two people in a hushed argument. Sounds of items being thrown and clinking against the walls and floor. An isolated curse. And then the hatch popped open and Sabine popped out, flushed and panicked and wearing a light grey tunic that was familiar and also not Sabine’s.

“Oh! Hey, Master, I thought you would be longer--that is, it’s good to see you back!”

“Master?” Barriss queried with a twitch of her lips.

Ahsoka flapped her hand. “What are you doing?” she asked Sabine.

“Uh...well, actually, I’m in the process of negotiating a peace treaty with the bandits.”

“Really?” Ahsoka’s voice dripped with so much sarcasm it nearly pooled at her feet.

“Pretty intense negotiations actually.” Sabine toed her boot into the ground, the ankle and leg above its hem bare.

Ahsoka closed her eyes and let out a suffering sigh. She turned to Barriss. “I don’t suppose I could stay at your place?”

For what might have been the first time in her life, Ahsoka saw a genuine smile cross Barriss’ face. She slid her hand into Ahsoka’s and gently squeezed.

“Come on, I’ll take you home by the scenic route.”

Home. She liked the sound of that word and the implications it held.

Ahsoka squeezed the hand back. “That sounds like just what I need.”

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 🎃💦 ∘₊✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟙𝟛 ✧₊∘

|| ︶꒦꒷𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥꒷꒦︶ | main masterlist ||

@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

Day 13: Wrist/Arm Restraints, Triple Penetration, Pet Play

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲

| PAIRING(s): Ezra x established relationship reader | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 529 (YAY!) | CONTENT: suspension restraints, teasing, impact play | SYNOPSIS: Ezra lets his Little Bird fly.

Ezra walked around you, slowly circling like a lazy buzzard who was in no rush to claim their carrion. Already incapacitated. Already trapped. Flesh already displayed and paraded for the vulture’s gorging. No limit to the feast when the flesh is so readily supplied.

Your toes press against the small wooden stool Ezra provided. They ache with the constant readjustments, but you don’t have the option of repositioning your arms from where they’re suspended into the ceiling hook. You’d asked Ezra why on earth he could possibly need to install such a large piece of hardware in the center of the room. His fiendish smile should’ve been all you needed to know to understand what exactly your partner had in mind.

The rough edge of the makeshift crop Ezra made from tall, wild grasses presses against your thigh. He gently prods it until it pushes a dip into the fatty tissue. He presses the tip of it into you now and gives the smallest twist, the sort that calls back to how he asks for you to burn cigarette ends into his back. The sharp bite of the dried material nips and pinches. You keep your feet steady.

“Unmoved by my provocations,” he observes in a drawl. “Perhaps a deviation in approach is required.” He pulls the crop out from the reddened pock he’d created and drags it feather light up to your belly.

“Don’t you dare, Ezra,” you warn him.

His lip curls in victory at stirring you up. “A sensitivity that is all too tempting.”

“If you tickle me, Ezra, I am going to be beyond angry,” you hiss. Your balance teeters for a moment during your broken concentration. This only seems to egg him on.

“Careful there,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, I bet you’d love it if I fell off this stupid thing,” you huff. You were still annoyed with him over the dirty dishes in the sink earlier. You only agreed to this little exercise in patience and submission at the promise of a very good fucking.

Ezra eyes the suspension and flashes a toothy grin. “I very well may like to see my caged bird fly.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open to protest the realization, but Ezra is too quick. He swats your ass hard and kicks the stool from underneath your foot all in one motion.

“Soar now,” he mocks as you swing back and forth.

The thrill of it makes your breath come short. You have no orientating foothold and are at the mercy of Ezra to maneuver the sway of your bound form. The spin of sound filters through in turning waves. You catch the scrunch and pull of clothing being discarded. Ezra jerks your back flush to his chest. His breath is ragged and hot on your neck.

“Clipped your wings, Little Bird,” he groans as he presses his stiff length against the globe of your bare ass. You gasp when he hoists you forward and higher before lowering you onto his cock.

“Now sing for me, Little Bird,” he grunts. You float as he drives himself into you hard and fast. You cry out. His songbird now.

[supernaturalgirl20]

Meet You There

Pairings: Ezra x f!reader

Warnings: Fluff, angst,references to sex, second chance romance, mentions of injury, low self esteem (Ezra).

Part of @toomanystoriessolittletime writing challenge

December writing Challenge

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

He felt nervous.

For the first time in cycles as he slowly approached the familiar bookstore. It was a simple red brick building with a bright red door and he supposed many passers by wouldn’t even give it a second look. After all, it was nothing special. It blended seamlessly in with all the other buildings surrounding it but he knew different.

This was the place where rare books could be bought. This was the place where a scoundrel like himself could weave through the aisles of old books unnoticed. It was the place where he met you.

***

As his feet carry him through the crowds a smile edges its way onto the corners of his mouth as the memory of your first meeting flashes through his mind. He’d been browsing some of the books from the old earth when you literally crashed into him, the pile of books in your arms obscuring your view.

“I’m so sorry, oh I’m such an idiot,” you said with a tinge of embarrassment, your cheeks reddening under his stare. He couldn’t help it, truly. He’d never seen anything more beautiful and he’d seen the rarest of gems. He helped you pick them up and carry them to a little nook in the back where you proceeded to talk and talk for hours.

He must have been good in a past life he had thought to himself the more he learned about you. You both shared an interest in literature, poetry and ecosystems and he loved the way your eyes would light up when you talked about something you were passionate about.

He made the first move. Leaning in and kissing you softly as you rambled on, the feel of his slightly dry lips on yours silencing you.

He was enraptured. You were like a siren in the books of old calling him to his doom and he would gladly perish at your feet. The soft kiss became more heated and then you asked him back to yours where you became a tangle of limbs and soft moans as he buried himself inside you.

His skin tingles at the memory and his cock stirs to life beneath his sweatpants. The memory of your naked form had kept him company on those long lonely nights on the green.

Now, as he stood staring at the doors to the bookstore that started it all, he can’t help the worrisome feeling that settles in the pit of his stomach. Will you be here? Would you want to see him if you were?

***

You’d both made an agreement way back when, that every year you would both meet here, same time, same place. Until such a time that you both would give up prospecting and settle down somewhere. That had gone on every year for six years until he became trapped on that Kevva forsaken moon.

Ezra pushes open the door, the small bell overhead signalling his arrival and as it closes behind him he quickly scans the store for any sight of you. A disappointed sigh leaves his lips as it becomes apparent you aren’t there. You had probably moved on. Met someone new, someone who could be there for you.

He moves slowly through the store, his feet carrying him to the aisle where you’d first met and he can feel the stares of the patrons boring into him. No doubt staring at the lack of appendage as the sleeve of his jacket hangs loosely at his side. At least he doesn’t have to bear the rejection you would no doubt have shown him.

His eyes rove through the new titles that have been added when a familiar voice echoes behind him.

“Ezra?” You almost whisper, and his body stiffens with shock. Is it really you? Have you really waited for him?

“Moonbeam,” he questions as he turns in the direction of your voice. He gasps at the sight of you before him, a hopeful look in your eyes. “Is it really you, Ez?”

He takes a step forward, slowly reaching his hand out, the need to touch so overwhelming. He nods his head, his eyes taking you in. You haven’t changed a bit and a warmth floods his veins as he thinks he’s finally found his home. “It’s me, I assure you. I..”

His words trail off as his hand caresses your cheek causing your eyes to flutter closed. “I cannot believe you're truly here, moonbeam. It’s as if all my dreams have come true, or I’ve finally run out of luck and met my maker.”

You open your eyes and smile brightly up at him, “I thought the worst last year Ez when you weren’t…I feared you were…” you gulp, unable to speak your worst fears aloud.

“I will not lie, moonbeam. I almost perished on the green moon but a saviour came and helped me leave that wretched place, albeit minus a limb.” He says, lifting the right sleeve of his jacket and your eyes drift towards where his arm should be.

“Oh Ezra. I’m so sorry you had to endure that. I should have been there….maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Hush, do not blame yourself my star…if you had accompanied me on that trip it could have been you who perished and it would have killed me twice over.” His thumb rubs soothingly over your cheek before drifting down to your chin where he tilts it upward.

“Dare I hope that you have waited all this time for a lonely soul such as myself?” His voice is laced with hope as his eyes flicker from yours to your lips.

Your hand wraps itself in his sweater effectively pulling him close. “I would wait forever for you, Ez. You should know that.”

Before he can say another word you reach up and touch your lips to his in a soft kiss. His tongue teases the seam of your lips until you open for him. The kiss is aching and all consuming as your tongues caress each other. A throat clearing pulls you apart and he rests his head against yours.

“I think I’m ready to settle down now, moonbeam. If you’ll have me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @hungrhay @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @dindjarinswhore @tusk89 @graciexmarvel @pedrostories

[snowfuls]

setting : enobaria's hotel, a little after the arena's destruction.

there's commotion outside. previously slack-jawed over the fiery scenes that had just played out across the screen of her holo, enobaria's on high alert now. something was deeply wrong and worst of all, she's isolated from the rest of her team. once a lone wolf, always a lone wolf — so it seemed. heavy footfall is what draws the victor away from her hotel room. a pair of knives concealed in each sleeve of her blouse, their hilts cradled in her palms. the sight of a squadron of peacekeepers storming the lobby is cause for blood to run cold. she might have been able to think nothing of it... had they not unsheathed batons and what looked to be electric prods upon spotting her there. they call her name, an emotionless warning. urging her to comply and come quietly. "we'd just like to ask you some questions, enobaria." they claim. scoffing soundlessly, her gaze darkens at the implication. they think she had something to do with all this, don’t they? years of loyalty squandered. it's as she'd feared from the very beginning. only it wasn't thea and ezra’s relationship that’d implicated district two after all… it was ezra’s "heroic" stunt in the arena and now, they were all going to pay the price for his treachery. the group of helmets move closer still, gaining on her as enobaria stands her ground. perfectly poised in the very same way she'd been while facing off against the boy from district ten exactly a decade ago now. before she'd torn his throat out with her teeth. enobaria’s fight from that monumental day remains in tact. it always has and the capitol only has itself to blame for that. former embers stoked to new flames as the peacekeepers come to stand before her. two suits deciding they'll take the lead as enobaria just smiles at them. it's entirely forced but wide enough to flash both rows of sharpened enamel. one last glimpse at the monster they'd made of her.

within an instant, it starts. she lunges at the first, throwing her body around his with characteristic agility, landing square on his shoulders, legs dangling from his front like a child’s might during a piggyback. only exceptionally deadlier as enobaria’s never been one to pull punches. swift to strike, she plunges one of her knives into his throat, the other soon finds itself lodged in his companion’s shoulder — flying from her grasp, ever the extension of her. aim focused upon the cracks in their armour. thighs tighten around the wounded area. it's remorseless. choking the life from him as blood begins to splutter everywhere. gradually, he'll sink to his knees in pain, trying desperately in a reddened haze to grab at her throat as he does so but his aim is off. missing her neck entirely, hand smacks her in the face instead and the way in which her jaw immediately clamps down around it is nothing short of instinctual. the feeling of fangs meeting flesh through the fabric of peacekeeper gloves, drawing blood into her mouth is one defined by visceral familiarity. eager to put distance between between them, she rolls off his back with ease, taking half his hand and several of his fingers along with her. the vibrant red seeping from parted lips as she spits the human remnants to the ground. eyes wild and uncaring. she's resolved to fighting her way out of this, burying hopelessness as more approach. they thrust at her, batons raised whilst she swipes and kicks and screams. a pool of blood framing the carnage. a truly hellish scene for bystanders but they had just seen their precious games go up in flames! this must pale in comparison. surely.

or perhaps this is the finale they were robbed of. blood, guts and all. a fitting end for the victor, on this — the tenth anniversary of her win. only it's abruptly cut short. a sharp, long-drawn sting of electricity finally taking her down. bringing enobaria to the ground with a resounding thud as the shock and burning set her nerves on fire, nullifying her intrinsic violence in an instant. it doesn't stop however. the electrocution. they persist in subduing her, with not just one prod but several... jabbing her with them relentlessly, all at once until the pain grows so unbearable that darkness clouds her vision. it's inevitable. the storm fading from her eyes and with it, her consciousness.

it's an indeterminable amount of time later when she awakes, body screaming at her. raging against what she can't yet to see. the alarm gradual in her drowsy haze but all it really takes is a single look to understand the dire reality of her new situation. she's caged in. forced into a fetal position by metal bars that scarcely contain her. made all the worse by a heavy contraption bound around her neck, weighing her freshly frail frame down. fragility's so unlike her. a cruelty all on its own. a far cry from the fierce stoicism she's renowned for. it's a pitiful sight, she's sure. this punishment, likely unique to her — leaving no room for doubt that she is every bit the wild cat they've spent years portraying as. they see enobaria as little more than a feral animal and now, they finally have her caged up like one too.

[soulsxng]

And here Ezra thought he was being a little weird, dressing to match with Andris when they would go out together sometimes. Knowing that the fae was doing the same thing was enough to have his face reddening in an instant, though.

So that meant it wasn't weird, right? It was totally fine!

...Then again, it wasn't as if they were dating anymore...

Oh, whatever! He's just going to stick with his initial thought about how cute it was that Andris was doing that! Besides, it felt nice to know that the blonde was thinking about him!

[erodasfishtacos]

OMG that was the cutest thing ever!!! i love how they all just make there way in like they all just have to right near their momma 😫 also the visual of H in little shorts and shirtless I- 🥵 and the thing about nipple cream i can just picture every night that’s H’s favorite thing and y/n just being like don’t be gross H my nipples are literally bleeding from YOUR kids and him having a full love boner 🤣 and all “can’t help it, you’re literally topless in our bed”

Rightttttt.

YN’s drowsy, Briar nestled in her bassinet next to the bed, and Harry had just gently pulled her top over her head, murmuring apologizes as the fabric brushes her sensitive peaks and she hisses.

“She’s really doing a number on you, hm?” He sighs unhappily, she was chafed, raw, and scabbed due to the baby’s constantly cluster feedings.

“They ache so fucking bad,” She groans, it was painful and uncomfortable- especially when she was full.

Harry, the ever amazing husband, snags the cream from the nightstand, coconut and shea butter with aloe vera, and unscrews the lid.

He’s just as tired, having wrangled the three boys all day after having a strenuous training that morning with no time to relax.

All the boys were fast asleep after a day of Harry running around the yard with them, wrestling them, and breaking up fights.

Also a copious amount of times playing baby dolls with Ezra.

“Y’doing sucha good job though, mama,” Harry hums, swiping a bit on his fingers and beginning to gently rubs it into tight, inflamed skin.

“Careful,” YN squeaks when he uses a big too much pressure with his calloused hands, “Really gentle, baby. Please, they’re so tender.”

“M’sorry, m’sorry,” He apologizes, nosing at her temple as he thumbs it around her beaded peaks where there is a bit of dried milk.

“Ooh,” She sighs when the cream starts to work its numbing magic, “That feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Harry kisses her warm cheek, “Y’take care of m’babies and I take care you, right darlin’?”

“Sucha a good baby daddy,” YN agrees, closing her eyes and groaning in satisfaction when Harry moves to massaging her belly and hips after the lotions rubbed in.

Harry’s situation must brush up against her because she peeks her eyes open and giggles girlishly before shaking her head with fake exasperation.

“Oh my god, H. You were rubbing lotion on my near bleeding nipples and bloated stomach from your child, how the hell did you get hard?”

He huffs out a low growl of offense, cheeks reddening a bit, “I can’t help it! Y’like gorgeous, love y’tits however! Plus y’like this because I put babies in you. And you called me baby daddy!S’a lover boner, s’all.”

YN shakes her head with a small smile, eyes fluttering shut for a long moment with sleepiness, “You love me, huh?”

Harry’s green eyes molt into something softer, filled with emotion, “I love you so much. I love how amazing of a wife you are. I love how perfect you are as a mama to our babies. I know why I was born demi - s’cause it was a sign to wait for you.”

[lavendertales]

requested by @dinsangelx​: 

thank you so much for the kind words!! and I hope things will be better and okay for you, my sweet 💖 

pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader. established relationship.

gif: @djarsdin​ 

You never got tired of flying through hyperspace. It was serene and beautiful in ways you had yet to decipher. But the sight that captured your heart the most was Din piloting the Razor Crest ever expertly and swiftly, his dexterity and precision taking you aback each and every time.

You settled for taking care of Grogu in the back, making sure the little guy was fed as well as resources allowed and you even played with him. With Din’s permission, you passed to Grogu the metal ball that he seemed to fancy so much, earning a few giggles from the green child.

However, Din is by far the most pleasant surprise in all of your travels and your most desired joy. Though it was a long journey for the both of you in admitting and accepting your feelings towards each other, building a strong foundation of trust and understanding, you were in a wonderful spot, with your bond being impenetrable. Sometimes in between quarries, Din let the Crest on autopilot through hyperspace and joined you and Grogu in the back.

But showing his face was something he reserved only for you.

It took a lot of trust and love, but eventually, it seemed to have become a natural habit of Din’s to remain helmet-free when he was with you, whether simply talking to each other or feeling each other in more intimate ways.

As you put Grogu down for a nap, you’re met with his gorgeous face smiling back at you. You break into a smile as well, slightly flustered. “What?”

Din raises his brows innocently, and oh he looks like the most adorable puppy you’ve ever seen.

“Nothing. You’re just so pretty.”

Compliments come randomly from Din. Once he got a taste of the world you had exposed him to, all of the things he never even dreamed of became natural, part of his instincts and he couldn’t get enough of them.

He inches closer, one hand cupping your cheek and bringing you closer to his face. He’s peppering kisses all over your face, gentle and heartfelt, and you feel your ears redden.

“What is happening now?” you pretend to be shocked, but you are a little taken aback.

“I love you. That’s all. You’re my whole world.”

That’s all, he says, like it’s no big deal. Like it doesn’t make your heart flutter and your body gush with hotness from thinking you captured this man’s heart just as much as he had captured yours.

“I love you too,” you say in between kisses. “You and the kid, you’re everything. Family.”

Din looks adoringly at you, this time pressing a chaste kiss on your lips instead, then smiles and mutters in agreement, “Family.”

permanent Pedro crew:

@doin-stuff @pedro-pastel @acourtofsnakes @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @rosiefridayrogersunday @beskarboobs @boxdyeblonde @imcalledflorence @casssiopeia @sleep-tight1 @pasckles @northernpunk @wantingpedropascal @evelynseventyr @itssmashedavo @phoenixhalliwell @elegantduckturtle @mylifeinthetardisforever @ohhersheybars @kingsqueensandvagabonds @greeneyedblondie44 @sebbys-girl @mrsparknuts @hnt-escape @hayley-the-comet @spideysimpossiblegirl @lsphoenix @kirsteng42 @lunaemss @goldielocks2004 @diogodxlot​ @queridopascal​ @gracie7209​ @floraandfrost​ @mejswho​ @dobbyjen​ @janebby​ @what-iwish-you-knew​ @jedi-jesi​ @kaqua​ @datenshi666​ @stevie75​ @ezras-channel-rat​ @for-my-satisfaction​ @quica-quica-quica​ @mishasminion360​ @eri16​ @lovesbiggerthanpride​ @xaestheticalien​ @grandfanficstation​ @mrsudontknowme​ @hello-i-am-daydreaming​ @mando-s-wife​ @pastamomma​ @midwesternwitchery​ @headinthestarz​ @drreidsconverse​ @dindjarinneedsahug​ @captainjaspenor​ @pscalwhiskey @1800-fight-me​ @phandoz​ @ayrusss​ @amneris21​ @alexxavicry​ @c4psicle​ @persephones-garden​ @din0-plan3 @smutwhore66 @deliriosinrose​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @crazyworldofsiani​ 

[hexedmaiden]

how about "I didn't know where else to go." for Seth/Ezra?

Sezra my beloved ❤️🥺 This one got a little away from me so I hope you enjoy hehe

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

Seth marches through the thoroughfare. His hand flexes at his side, knuckles bruised and bloody. The pain brings tears to his eyes along with the anger that boils in his veins.

His feet take him toward The Grand. He doesn't stop until he reaches Ezra’s door. He knocks with his good hand and waits. Only those brief seconds give him the time to realize he might have made a mistake. 

The door swings open to reveal Ezra May in a state of undress that makes Seth blush. 

Seth takes off his hat, holding it to his chest, "My apologies Mr. May, I didn't know where else to go."

"Mr. Bullock, what happened? Please come in." Ezra extends his hand to Seth as he opens the door wider for Seth to enter his room. It was spacious enough for Ezra’s mining equipment to rest against the corner of the room, a fireplace, and a chair which Ezra guides him to.

"Please sit, Mr. Bullock. Let's get you cleaned up." Ezra slips his hand from Seth's to pour the pitcher of water into the basin. With one hand he dips a washcloth in and wrings it out. 

"Will you tell me who has provoked such ire in you that leaves you bloodied, bruised, and darkening my door this evening, Mr. Bullock? Or should I assume it was that cocksucker shouting about soaps again?" Ezra returns to Seth's side only to kneel at Seth's feet. Seth can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips.

Ezra takes Seth's hand in his, holding it gently as he dabs away the blood. Seth hisses at the cold contact of the wet cloth.

"It wasn't the soap guy."

"Shame." Ezra smiles up at Seth before continuing to wipe the blood away.

"I don't know his name. He was drunk and he made ill remarks about your character that I would not wish to repeat." Seth scrunches up his nose. With his hat in his lap, his unoccupied hand comes up to rub his nose. 

"Mr. Bullock, you need not assault citizens on my account. I appreciate you defending my honor, but you needn't cause bodily harm. Though I must admit I find myself quite amorous toward the idea that you would do such a thing for me." Ezra wipes away the last drops of blood on Seth's hand. He brings Seth's knuckles to his lips.

"Ezra." Seth croaks as his cheeks redden.

"Let me bandage your poor hand."

"Fuck the bandages," Seth says as he takes Ezra’s face into his hands kissing him like he wished he did days ago. Why did he wait so long to do this? Why was he so scared of something so sweet?

“My beloved you best settle yourself down or I have a mind to overturn our agreement of a slow courtship to skip right to the wedding night.” Ezra teases, smiling as he crawls up from the floor and into Seth’s lap.

“Perhaps we should stop?” Seth asks lightly though he continues to kiss Ezra.

“Perhaps we should.” 

Yet neither make the first move to break away. Not for a while, not until the adrenaline in Seth finally crashes and his body grows tired. Ezra will coax him gently to bed with him, where Seth will curl against him proactively in sleep. send me a prompt

[writeforfandoms]

Shake, Rattle and Roll 3

Chapter 3 is here folks! I’m rewarding you for me recovering from the vaccine.

Chapter one is here and chapter two is here

Summary: Things fall apart very quickly when you’ve got six prospectors and a supposed map to the treasure of all treasures. 

Warnings: More murder. Just one this time. Things crashing. Some blood, but nothing explicit. More swearing.

Tags: @fandom-blackhole @pedrocentric

--

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" Ezra asked as the two of you descended the stairs to the basement.

"Sure." You paused briefly at the bottom of the stairs, taking a quick look around. Nothing obviously wrong, fortunately, but lots of junk.

"Why are you so determined to help the young lady upstairs? Not that I'm of a mind to disagree with you."

You paused, half-turning to look at the man behind you. His eyes were curious at the moment, not quite shrewd.

"Let's just say I know how awful being an orphan can be," you said, turning away again and venturing further into the basement. It was all one large room, with shelving lining the walls and cloth-covered furniture crowding the space. "Kevva, how does anyone find anything in here?"

"With no shortage of difficulty and frustration, I imagine," Ezra said cheerfully. "And quite possibly no lack of colorful metaphors."

You barked out a laugh at that, shaking your head. "Colorful metaphors," you muttered, amused. 

“Are you actually looking for this supposed map?” Ezra asked. “Or are you just having a grand time exploring?”

“Exploring, mostly,” you answered easily. “I mean, who would keep a map in the basement? I’m pretty sure nobody’s been down here in years, look at the dust layered on everything.”

Ezra hummed, and when you turned he was right behind you, making you jump. “It would seem that we have some decisions to make, and unforeseen time in which to make them.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, side-stepping so you weren’t backed against the wall. “Such as?”

“The girl.” Ezra held up one hand to belay your protest. “I agree she is far too young to be in the midst of this dangerous situation, but if we are to help her, we need a plan.”

You nodded slowly. “I’d like to get her out of the house as soon as possible, but I realize that might not be possible with the other prospectors.”

“Indeed, they are unwilling to let anyone go anywhere until they have that map.” Ezra’s eyes gleamed a little at the mention of it. You felt a little uneasy - you had no interest in the map yourself. It could burn for all you cared. 

“I don’t think they’re going to find it here,” you admitted carefully. “If there even is a map. Damon wouldn’t have stashed it in the house. He would have kept it on him, or maybe left it somewhere safe.”

“Agreed.” Ezra spread his hands. “Then we are faced with the conundrum of what to do next.”

“Sneak out?” You weren’t really serious in suggesting that. It wouldn’t work. Not for long, anyway. And if the other prospectors thought you’d left with the map? They wouldn’t stop hunting you. 

“That won’t work and you well know it. You’re not a fool.” Ezra shifted to lean back against the wall next to you, separated by a couple feet of space. “No, we need a rather more… permanent plan.”

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” you asked, voice low. Your gaze darted to the staircase, just to make sure nobody was lingering there. 

“These folk are hard,” Ezra said with a shrug. “They are killers, the lot of them, and I do not doubt that they would have no qualms removing any obstacles in the way of their perceived wealth.” 

You sighed. You knew he was right, you’d seen it for yourself several times on the Green. That didn’t mean you had to like it.

“I don’t think murder is necessary,” you protested. “What if we just locked them in the basement and ran? They’d pick the lock eventually, but we could all just vanish. Pretty sure I’m the only one of us with anything resembling a permanent address.”

“That’s not much of a solution either,” Ezra said, shaking his head. “Now, dove, I understand this might be an uncomfortable reality, but reality it is.”

“Dove?” you asked, completely sidetracked even as you bristled a little. 

“Not the time,” Ezra protested. 

“I suppose you’d rather wait until we’re doing something rash,” you grumbled right back at him. 

You both froze when the doorbell rang. It felt like the whole house froze. There was no noise for ten long seconds, and then the doorbell rang again. All at once, you and Ezra were scrambling up the stairs to see what was going on. 

The other four prospectors all stood in front of the door, blocking your view. But you could hear Mikken growl something about someone not being home, then a polite reply. The polite person was let inside finally, and your eyes met across the room.

She was younger than you, although an adult, and cute. She looked like someone’s friend, dressed for a night in having fun.

And then Fero brought a pipe down across the back of her head. You closed your eyes a few moments too late. The blood would definitely haunt your dreams. 

“What the fuck?!” Felicia demanded.

“We couldn’t let her live,” Fero growled. “She saw us!”

“So killing her was the answer?” Felicia’s voice was steadily rising in both pitch and volume. 

“Idiot,” Inumon scoffed. 

“And what would you have done?” Fero challenged, puffing out his chest. He still had the pipe gripped tight in one hand. 

“Not let her in and not killed her,” Inumon said, narrowing her eyes at the blonde man. Her hands both drifted, one towards a strap on her thigh, the other towards the back of her pants. Weapons, undoubtedly. 

Mikken and Fero both started talking at the same time, which quickly escalated to yelling. Inumon had a dagger in her hand a moment later, steely eyes glaring down Fero. In response, Felicia pulled a little thrower and leveled it at Inumon, which prompted Fero to pull his weapon, which caused Mikken to pull his weapon. 

“Well now there’s no need for this all to go to bloodshed so quickly,” Ezra said, hands held loose and away from his body. You half-turned to glare at him, because clearly he was crazy. They had almost solved the problem themselves! “I’m quite certain we can arrange a more peaceful resolution to this little spat.”

“We need the map,” Mikken said, glaring at the blonde siblings. “Did you find anything in the basement?”

“No,” you answered before Ezra could. “Nothing’s been moved down there in years.”

Mikken scoffed. “Fine.” He settled his gaze on you. “The girl has nothing on her either?”

“No.”

Mikken was silent for a moment before he shifted his gaze to Inumon. “Kill her, then.”

“What?” Your jaw dropped for a moment before you hardened your resolve, stepping in Inumon’s way. “No.” 

“She’s useless to us,” Mikken spat. “She’s a liability now.”

“She wouldn’t be if you would stop killing people,” you shot back. 

“Easy,” Ezra muttered from close behind you, clearly trying to warn you off of doing anything stupid. Unfortunately for him, you already had a terrible track record of that.

Inumon stepped forward, into your space, and smirked. It was a smirk that just dared you to do something, even as she drew a thrower from the back of her belt.

So you did. You grabbed the arm with the thrower and shoved it up. The shot was loud that close to your ear, and the bullet lodged somewhere in the ceiling above you. Inumon snarled and raised the dagger instead.

Ezra jerked you backwards, his hands fisted in the back of your shirt. The chandelier came crashing down in between the two of you and the rest of the group, sending shards of glass everywhere. Fero and Felicia both yelled, and Inumon fell back with a shout of pain. You saw a quickly-reddening shard of glass sticking out of her shin. 

"Time to go," Ezra said, giving you another yank. The two of you booked it for the library, where Ezra pulled the key out of his pocket. You saw Inumon raise the knife again and pulled Ezra down out of the way, the solid thud of the knife meeting wood the sound of success to your ears.

You and Ezra sort of stumbled over each other into the library, and Ezra slammed the door shut and locked it again. You were both panting with the adrenaline high. 

"What just happened?" Cee asked, staring at you both. She sounded like she both did and did not want to know. 

"Your most ardent defender here seems to have either a death wish or a sincere desire for adrenaline," Ezra told her, leaning back against the door.

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered. "Important thing is we need to get out of here." 

"I foresee a slight problem with that," Ezra told you with a sigh. He nodded to the windows. Which had bars over them.

"Well, fuck," you sighed.

[artgirl130]

Long Enough

Pairing: Jason x Aria

Summary: Aria meets Jason in a bar.

----------

Aria sat alone at the bar, absently playing with her untouched pint. She thought about that everything that had happened between her and Ezra. Had they really gone through so much just to end up waking away? She couldn’t really be surprised, all of the secrets and lies were bound to destroy them at some point. They had already caused so many problems. Because of their relationship Ezra had lost his job, her parents were barely talking to her and she’d been blackmailed for most of high school. And, if she was being truthful, their relationship hadn’t been good for quite a while before they ended it, what with A and Ali and Ezra’s book and Jason.

Jason.

She felt herself redden at the thought of his name. It had been unfair to Ezra, Jason coming back to town and relighting feelings that she thought she had buried long before Ali had disappeared. Back when he’d spent most of the summer wandering around, shirtless, high and she’d had her pink hair and they were both trying to figure out who they were. Turns out that they had held each other’s answers all along.

“Aria.”

Her head snapped around at the sound of his voice, eyes drinking in the familiar form of Jason DiLaurentis. Jumping to her feet, Aria threw her arms around his broad shoulders, attempting to ignore the intoxicating smell of his cologne. “It’s so good to see you Jason. You kept the beard.” She smiled at him, “It suits you.” He played with the scruff shyly, his hand covering the smile creeping onto his face. “Thanks, you look great. I missed you.” He confessed, green eyes sparkling. Aria ducked, trying to keep Jason from seeing the red that covered her skin. “I heard about Fitz. I’m sorry.” “I’m not.” She admitted, taking a sip from her glass, cringing at the taste. “Eurgh, that’s awful.” “So why did you dump him?” Jason asked, waving over the bartender and ordering two cokes. “We just weren’t compatible anymore. I couldn’t forgive him for the book, and we wanted different things.” She paused, taking a sip of her new drink. “Different people.” “Oh?” He questioned, leaning closer to the woman. “We were fighting a lot. He wanted to move, I didn’t. I wanted to adopt, he didn’t. Kept saying that he wanted the kids to be his by blood.” Jason regarded her softly, knowing how hard not being able to have children had hit her. “And then I realised what our fights were really about.” She stopped, feeling sick to her stomach. Sliding his hand over hers, Jason felt his heart ache. In his eyes Aria deserved to have the world laid at her feet and more. More than Ezra Fitz could have ever given her. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Aria let out a soft chuckle, appraising the man next to her, his hair like a golden halo in the bar’s dim light. “It’s ok. He was having an affair with an eighteen year old barista. The second I found out I had Mrs Hastings draw up the divorce papers.” She let out a humourless laugh. “They were filed by the end of the day.” “He didn’t deserve you.” Jason stated, furious that Ezra had the nerve to treat her like that. Sensing his tension Aria began tracing her fingers over the back of his hand. Almost instantly he relaxed, leaving him amazed that, even after all the time that they had spent apart, she still had the same effect on him. “You deserve so much better Aria.”

She melted at his words, astonished that he still felt the same after everything she had put him through. Sighing she looked at Jason, “How can you do this? How can you stand to be around me after what I’ve done to you? I’m a terrible person. I threw you away over a lying, cheating piece of scum who I’m not sure I loved.” Aria choked back a sob, ashamed as she realised the extent of what she’d done to the man who’d only ever tried to make her happy.

Jason stared at stared at her confused, how could she not know? He thought that he had made the extent of his feelings perfectly clear from their first kiss. Steeling himself for rejection, Jason took Aria’s hand in his, fingers interlocking, “Aria. It’s you. It’s always been you. I hated seeing you with anyone else, but I stood back because I wanted- no needed you to be happy and I thought that were with Ezra.” Jason leaned down, pressing the most cautious kiss Aria had ever received onto her parted lips. “I love you Aria Montgomery. Always have, always will.”

Snaking her left hand up to tangle in his hair, Aria pulled Jason’s lips down to meet hers in a heated exchange, hoping to convey everything she was feeling into just one kiss. Pulling back, she had tears in her eyes, “I love you Jason. I love you and I am so sorry it took me this long to realise it.”

Jason pressed a delicate kiss to the top of her head, “Took us long enough.” “Yeah,” she giggled, cosying up to him, “It did.”

------------------------------

- Also available on my AO3 (under the same username) -

[calebdumes]

Hello! I absolutely adore your writing!!

For a Kanera writing prompt: Kanan and Hera dancing

Please😌

Thank you very much! I really appericate it and I hope you like what I came up with! 

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

rating: n/r

word count: 1.1k

~

Her contact was late but given the number of stormtroopers out and about, Hera wasn't too surprised. The white clad troopers tended to make people move hesitantly and there were a great many of them to be found on Christophsis. So many that Hera was fairly certain that her contact wasn't going to show, not with the rebel activity spiking all over the planet, specifically right here in Tophen. The spark was catching fire and with more people flocking to the cause, the more the Empire tightened its grip. It would probably be in her best interest to call this mission a bust and head home.

But still she lingered.

Like most of the structures on the planet, the cantina was made up of heavy grey durasteel, intercut with giant slabs of crystals. The crystals that enclosed the bar were a soft rosy pink color, interlaced with gold veins that glimmered in the dim lighting. The house band was keeping the small crowd that had formed on the polished floor entertained with a lively tune that had Hera's foot tapping against her stool. If she closed her eyes, just for a moment she could forget about the war, she could imagine a time of peace, a time when she and Kanan could go out dancing and not have it be a cover for a clandestine meeting.

Beside her, Kanan's arm brushed against hers as he threw back the last remaining drops of his drink. She turned her head slightly towards him, her lekku slipping off of her bare shoulder.

Not for the first time, Hera was struck with just how handsome Kanan was. The way his amber skin looked against the opaque pink walls, the way his hair caught in the soft glow of the lights, long strands framing his face from where they had fallen loose from his bun - Hera felt her breath catch in her chest.

Tonight, he looked nothing like the roughneck she met on Gorse, dressed in a fitted black tunic that left very little to the imagination and sharp black slacks. She had no idea where Sabine had found such nice clothes in short notice but Hera wasn't going to lie, she was admiring the view.

Kanan glanced at her from the corner of his eye, arching one of his thick brows. "What?" he asked, his voice gravely from the alcohol.

"Dance with me?" she motioned to the dance floor, the beads in her form fitting purple dress sparkling in the light. Kanan's eyes dragged up her body appreciatively causing a wash of heat to dance across her face. He bit down on his lower lip before flicking his eyes out to the dance floor.

"Aren't we on the job?"

Hera gave him a little shrug. "I think we both know this mission is a lost cause." Then she smirked, running a finger down his chest. "And Sabine went through all that trouble to throw these looks together, we shouldn't waste her hard work."

Desire burned in Kanan's teal eyes. "What if I told you I don't know how to dance?"

"Somehow," she wrapped her fingers in the soft fabric of his shirt and pulled him in so that they were just inches apart. "I doubt that. But you can follow my lead if you're scared."

Kanan chuckled, his breath ghosting over her lips, stained a deep purple to match her gown. "Well if you're leading, by all means Captain Hera, let's dance."

He took her hand in his and pulled her out onto the dance floor. The light, upbeat tempo dissolved into something slower, still sweet but with a gentle and morose undercut. Kanan spun her around, the train of her dress flaring out before he pulled her in close and grabbed onto her waist.

They swayed together with the music, heat thrumming between their bodies. This time, Hera didn't have to close her eyes for the troubles of reality to slip away. It was just them. No Empire. No war. Just her and Kanan. Nothing else mattered.

The way Kanan was looking at her, like she was the most precious thing in the world, it made her knees weak. She didn't think there were words to fully express how much the man meant to her. He was so much more than just a partner or a crewmate. He was so much more than just a friend or lover. 

Kanan was the reason she woke in the morning, the air in her lungs, the blood in her veins. He was the reason she fought, the reason why she refused to give up. Kanan was so much more. He was her everything.

Hera cupped his face, her thumb stroking lovingly across his cheek. "I love you." she said. Even those three little words didn't feel like enough to express how she felt when she looked at him. She could say them a million times over, until she lost her ability to speak and they still wouldn't be enough.

"I love you too." he said before he kissed her, slow and deep, his passion matching her intensity at every turn. When they broke apart, his eyes were dark pools of heat, his lips smeared with dark purple streaks. She laughed, pulling the collar of his shirt up to wipe them away.

"Such a mess." she tutted. "I can't take you anywhere."

"What do you say we get out of here then?" he asked.

"And go where?" she responded breathlessly, her body thrumming with want.

"Wherever you want to go."

"Anywhere?"

"Anywhere."

Hera kissed him quickly before pulling him off of the dance floor. "Then let's get out of here."

Kanan followed.

*

They crew was waiting for them in the lounge when they finally docked the Phantom with the Ghost, looking slightly more disheveled then when they left. 

“What happened to your dress?” Sabine cried as Hera slipped down the ladder. She yanked at the sleeve, pulling it up over her shoulder. Kanan jumped down behind her, landing lightly on the floor. 

“Did you get the intel?” Ezra asked. 

“Yeah, I don’t they got the intel.” Zeb chucked sharing a knowing look with Kanan. He slapped him on the shoulder as he passed on the way back to his cabin. The tips of Kanan’s ears reddened. 

“Ugh.” Sabine groaned. “Gross.”

“It’s not gross Sabine.” Kanan said, pulling his hair back. “It’s perfectly natural.”

“Everything good here?” Hera interjected. 

“Yeah.” Sabine grumbled. “Everything was fine.”

“Good. Then I am going to change.” She said, pulling on the dress strap as it fell again. 

“Wait,” She heard Ezra say as she walked out of the lounge. “I’m confused. What’s gross and why didn’t you get the intel?”

“Kid.” Kanan responded. “You never cease to amaze me.”

Hera smiled to herself. Christophsis was nice but it was good to be home.

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 26 - Away From the Maddening Crowd

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

NOTE: Again I have let Genshin Impact to consume my soul so I updated this on Tumblr a bit late sorry!!!

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell​ here is the latest update

Away From the Maddening Crowd

…

…

[Aura:

1. A form of spiritual energy described as the essence of every living creature.

2. There were humans who could sense Aura and control its power. These humans were known as Aura Guardians and they traveled around doing good deeds and passing on their skills to those who also possessed this innate ability. However, they also disappeared from history, for some undisclosed reason.]

…

…

In the early morning, you head to the cemetery to find Ezra, only to discover it is empty and the stone steps to the mausoleum have been destroyed.

Whilst you wonder what could have happened, a note weighed down by a rock near the abandoned mausoleum is your clue and you peel it off, scanning the contents. It’s been written in Ezra’s messy handwriting and it says:

[I’m on a case and have gone out to do some investigation. Be back soon.]

“I hope he's okay,” you utter under your breath as you pocket the note; it occurs to you that you don't worry about Ezra often unless it's to do with his general wellbeing and health. He's never bothered you with his own missions and you don't doubt his proficiency in handling evil spirits.

You had wanted to ask him about Gossamer Cave but it looks like you’re on your own for the time being so you return home where Magnolia has some nice, piping hot breakfast waiting for you when you announce your return. You will also be going shopping with Sonia later to find a dress for the party Leon invited you to.

At the table, you sit with various atlases and maps in front of you, along with your laptop propped open as you drink your soup and munch on toast.

“What are you doing?” Sonia asks, as you bury yourself nose-deep in a book.

“Ezra took me to a place called Gossamer Cave in the Wild Area several years ago, I can’t seem to find it anywhere on any maps.”

“I don’t recall there being a place called Gossamer Cave in the Wild Area,” she replies as she casually spreads some cheri berry jam over her toast with the knife. “Why are you looking for it?”

“Never mind,” you utter quickly, “it’s probably changed names or something.”

Strange thing is, none of these atlases or maps show any caves or sinkholes within the Dusty Bowl area at all.

Frustrated, you put down your work to focus on your breakfast, though today’s newspaper headline becomes your next highlight.

The front page is covered with content about Flora’s murder. You read all about it: her mother has been found guilty to manslaughter. Hank has been released, and Frankie will be returning to boarding school...though you didn’t receive any further follow-up from her.

A section concerning Leon’s upcoming match with Volkner is also squashed beside the article. You skim through it and turn to the next page, spotting a large photo of Leon so you grab some scissors and snip it out carefully.

Sonia giggles as you slip the photo into your journal. You’ve begun a small collection to show unwavering support for your boyfriend, cutting out any articles or photos about him from all sorts of magazines or newspapers you come across.

You’re certain his mum and Hop do the same so it’ll be interesting to share what you have collected in the future.

Meanwhile, Magnolia wanders around the kitchen, asking, “Has anyone seen Sunkern and Cutiefly?” She’s checking the cupboards and under the table. “Sunkern? Cutiefly? Where are you?"

“Did you check the conservatory?” Sonia asks.

“I already did, they’re not there.”

“Where was the last place you saw them?” you ask.

“I left them playing together over there,” Magnolia replies in confusion, gesturing to a potted plant near one of the windows, “and now they’re gone.”

You and Sonia leave your seats to assist the professor with the search but unfortunately have no luck locating the two pokemon and Magnolia gives up for the time being. Maybe they have managed to bounce off somewhere to play and will return later. The pokemon have gone off to play before.

“Sunkern, Cutiefly, are you upstairs?” Magnolia can be heard as she disappears up the staircase.

After breakfast, you and Sonia get ready to go out until the doorbell rings and Runerigus stops washing the dishes to float over, opening the door.

“Oh, hello there, sir!” exclaims a cheerful voice and both you and Sonia leave the room and into the landing, peering over the railing to see Leon’s mum at the doorstep with Hop and Wooloo by her side. “I’m looking for…”

She says your name and you and Sonia exchange glances before quickly heading down the stairs and Leon’s mum spots you; she smiles widely at your arrival, waving cheerily and Runerigus hops backwards to give you more space.

“Hello my dears!” Leon’s mum greets you two, “how are you?”

“We’re fine, thank you.”

After the pleasantries and small talk are over, she says, “I have a favour to ask you-“

“Muuuuum,” Hop whines in the background as she grabs him and steers him towards your direction, smiling widely.

“Can you please look after my Hip-Hop whilst I take the grandparents to the community centre?”

“Mum, I’m old enough to look after myself,” Hop wails, only to be ignored.

“Sure, Sonia and I were going to go out shopping so Hop can join us."

Hop’s eyes brighten up at once. “You are? Where are you going?”

“Wyndon Shopping Centre,” Sonia replies.

“Take me with you!” Hop abruptly yells, pumping his fists into the air and Wooloo bleating happily beside him.

Leon’s mum claps her hands together with glee. “Excellent, I’ll leave Anthony Hop-kins in your care then.”

“Muuuuum!” Hop wails in horror, his face reddening whilst you and Sonia giggle.

“Goodbye!” she says after pecking Hop on the cheek and ruffling his hair, before she dashes to their car which is parked in the front lawn near the bench. It resembles a Charizard. “Have fun, Hop! I’ll be back to pick you up by five!”

“Okay, bye mum!”

You watch as she steers the car out and onto the main road, chugging out of sight in minutes.

“Well, looks like you’re stuck with us,” Sonia says, and Hop turns round to you with a grin, folding his arms behind his head.

Hop nods. “Are we going now?”

“Yep!”

“Awesome!”

You quickly don your shoes whilst Sonia fetches her car keys; she will be driving you to the shopping centre. Magnolia sees you off and you’re about to enter the car when a stone smacks into the door from out of nowhere, just inches from the handle and promptly drops to the ground.

A look of annoyance crosses Sonia’s face at once as the stone rolls close to her feet and she looks up and around. “Hey! Who did that?! Who’s there?”

Another stone is tossed at the car, this time, aimed at one of the lights and your group turns round to see a little boy emerging from one of the bushes close to the house with a pile of stones in his hand.

“Witch!” he yells, pointing at you accusingly.

You remember this youngster; he was part of the trio who had ambushed you outside the lab the night when Leon had gifted you the flowers. You had spared him (although you thought your pokemon had taught him a lesson but it seems unlikely) and now he’s back with a vengeance.

“Hey, what gives, Johnny?!” Hop yells furiously, before he rolls the sleeves of his coat higher over his arms and promptly marches over.

Johnny? Must be a classmate of Hop’s.

“Hop, wait-“ Sonia says, but Hop’s almost nose-to-nose with the smarmy-looking kid.

“Shut up, Helmet Hair!!!” the boy yells; it dawns to you that this child and Hop are potentially the same age, being almost the same height and all.

“H-helmet hair?” Hop croaks out, wide-eyed.

“Hop, ignore him, let’s just go,” you mutter, but he shakes his head rigorously.

“No way! I’m defending your honor!” Hop yells. “Leave her alone! What she’d ever do to you?”

“My mum and dad says she’s an evil witch and must be destroyed! Anyone helping her must be destroyed too!”

“What?!” Hop and Sonia exclaim in unison.

“Go Spearow!” yells the kid; he tosses a pokeball into the air to reveal a small but familiar and rather mean-looking bird who flaps its short wings in the air before it quickly zooms towards Hop and Wooloo. “Quick Attack!”

“Dodge it, Wooloo!” Hop yells, and Wooloo acknowledges the instruction with a bleat and rolls to the left, successfully evading the assault. Hop scurries to the side, taking an offensive stance and placing some distance between him and his opponent.

A mini battle is taking place; Hop’s skills are impressive as he coordinates with his pokemon and swiftly instructs Wooloo to attack. You and Sonia quickly rush to a safe spot to observe with Sonia actively cheering for him.

“Go Hop, go!” she exclaims, and Hop tells Wooloo to counterattack with a Tackle.

The Spearow avoids by flying to the right and responds with a Peck attack. Wooloo cries out, squeezing its eyes shut as the bird pecks at its head aggressively.

“Wooloo, no!” Hop yelps, as the sheep struggles.

“Spearow, finish it off with a Fury Attack!”

“Not on my watch!” Hop shouts, “Wooloo, use Defense Curl!”

The sheep abruptly rolls into a tight ball and Spearow’s attack bounces off its large and fluffy hide, reducing the attack to nothingness.

“Now use Tackle!” Hop instructs and Wooloo springs out of its curled form to rapidly ram itself against the bird that had come too close for comfort.

Wooloo successfully knocks out the rampaging Spearow and it flops to the ground, out cold and unmoving. It was a critical hit!

“Well done, Hop!” you and Sonia cheer, whooping loudly whilst the punk kid named Johnny growls under his breath and returns his fainted pokemon into its capsule.

“Y-you’ll pay for this!” he yells before he rapidly spins on his heel and sprints down the path and out of sight.

“I won!” Hop cheers and everyone exchanges high fives when he rushes up to you happily. “That was sooooo awesome! And Wooloo!!! You were amazing!”

He picks up the sheep and throws her around in the air and in circles. Wooloo bleats loudly in response and they both share an embrace.

“Hey, he didn’t give you any prize money,” you pipe up.

“Eh, it’s fine.”

“Alright, shall we go? We’re running late,” Sonia says, nudging her head to the car and opening the door; Hops scrabbles into the backseat with his pokemon.

“Come on, let’s go!!” Sonia honks the horn whilst Hop pokes his head out of the window.

“Yeah!!! Let’s goooo!” he echoes loudly.

“Coming,” you reply.

…

When the car has left and is out of sight, a pokemon emerges from its hiding place in the shadows.

It had been watching your group the entire time before it stares at the direction where the boy had run off to. It had wanted to follow you, but it cannot pass up on this opportunity.

Hovering in the air, it floats silently towards the boy’s direction with a smirk, having found its prey.

…

Sonia’s brought you to a boutique which is immensely popular and trending in Galarian Chatot and so the shopping excursion begins. Hops lags behind with his arms folded behind his back, glancing around inquisitively.

“Well, what do you think?” she says with a cheery smile plastered on her face.

“It’s so bright and shiny here,” Hop remarks with a groan.

“It’s huge,” you blurt out, glancing around.

“Yep!! Let’s begin!”

The store is beautiful, with décor out of a fairytale book or a princess castle. With pale pink walls adorned with lacy drapes and fake roses, plush white rugs and plastic models of fairy pokemon standing beside mannequins, saleswomen and men dressed in exceptionally smart suits and skirts rush to the aid of their well-off patrons whilst you and Sonia head unnoticed to the dress section.

You had told Sonia you were wanting to wear something red (but not as flashy as the Miss Motostoke dresses) so she quickly locates where all the dresses of a variety of plum, crimson or scarlet shades have been grouped together.

Bored, Hop sits down on the plushy ottoman provided and Sonia begins rifling through one of the racks. You’re not sure where to begin exactly so you start at the opposite side and browse on your own.

Recalling Leon’s outfit in your mind, you hope to find something suitable but all you come across are styles that are simply too girly, too lacy, too short, too long, too pink or too purple or too peachy for your liking.

“Here, try this one,” Sonia approaches you with several dresses protected by plastic covers looped over one arm. “This one too.”

She hands you two dresses.

“And this one.”

A third is placed under your care.

She lifts up a fourth; it’s scarlet and full of ruffles. “Hmm, not this one. Let me put it back…”

A saleswoman rushes over to help you out. “Let me get those for you, madam…” she says, scooping them out of your hands.

“Thank you.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Nope! We’re good,” Sonia says, returning to your side, “here, you should try these on.”

The dressing rooms are an equally pink abomination, with thick white drapes and an abundance of fake roses sewn over them. Sonia squeals with glee and takes several selfies with the curtains whilst Hop and Wooloo sit down on the white leather couch in front of your cubicle.

“You okay, Hop?” you ask, and he nods. “Are you hungry?”

“Not yet.”

“We’ll get something to eat afterwards.”

“Okay,” he replies, before he grins widely at you. “I am kinda thirsty though.”

You remember there was a smoothie bar outside the shop and you fish some money out of your pocket, handing it to him. “Here, get yourself something to drink.”

He blinks his golden eyes before his cheeks turn pink. “Oh, um, I-I shouldn’t…mum says I shouldn’t-“

“It’s okay, Hop, go ahead.”

He grins widely at you in response. “Thanks, mate!”

You smile and watch as he sprints off, then you disappear into the cubicle and pull the curtain back, lifting up one of the dresses to eye level. Sonia has chosen an exquisite one-shoulder cardinal red dress. You hurriedly slip out of your clothes and slip it on, the silky material slinking over your belly and hips.

“Wow,” you cannot help but croak out; you’ve never worn anything so fancy before in your life.

As you stand in front of the mirror, you hear Sonia saying, “So? How is it? Let me see!”

“Okay, hold on,” you murmur, before you pull the curtain back.

Sonia is lounging lazily and sits up properly once you appear; Sonia lets out a gasp of awe, her eyes lighting up. “You look great!!”

“…I’m not sure about this one. Let me try on the next one.”

Disappearing inside the cubicle for a second time, you shimmy out of the dress and put the next one on; outside and you can hear Hop returning.

“Hey, what’d I miss?”

“Nothing much,” Sonia replies with a giggle, and you pull the curtain back, stepping outside.

Hop is sipping on a large smoothie and he looks at you up and down.

“What’d you guys think?” you ask.

“I like it!” Sonia exclaims.

“Are you sure? Something doesn’t feel right,” you utter. “Hop?”

He puts a hand under his chin. “I agree. It’s not Lee’s style’s either.”

“Exactly. Too lacy, I think.”

With that, you pull the curtain and step out of the dress as carefully as you can, hang it back up properly and grab the next one in the queue. It’s mulberry red and off-the-shoulder. You also show Sonia and Hop for their opinions. On this occasion, Sonia dislikes it but Hop shows a thumbs up.

You’re also personally not too keen on this one either so you move onto the next dress. The next one is cinnamon rose, A-line and asymmetrical and the moment you don it, you stare at your reflection and realise it’s perfect; this is it.

This is the one.

Pushing the curtain apart for the final time, Sonia and Hop rise from their seats to gawp as you stand before them with a grin.

“It’s this one,” you say, “I’ll take this one.”

…

It's the day of Leon’s battle with Volkner, and the entire Galar region is abuzz with anticipation.

The TV blasts adverts about the match, informing people to get their hands on tickets as soon as they can as it is the ‘match of the century’ (despite all tickets being sold out six months prior). Convenience stores begin selling Leon and Volkner merchandise. Their faces are slapped everywhere you look – on milk cartons, train tickets, billboards and posters. Everyone’s celebrating.

You realise it’s rather nice to be part of something as important as this, as you queue in the stadium with your VIP pass in hands.

Prior and you did tell Volkner that you had given your ticket to Jace since you already possessed a Wyndon Annual Pass. Your seat for the match is front row, in a block on Leon’s side, which is considered one of the best seats of the entire stadium. Leon had really gone all out to ensure you would be able to get a good view.

The party begins two hours or so after the match, and you aren’t sure if that gives Leon enough downtime but you presume he must be used to this kind of busy schedule.

You’re rather excited; you had purchased a pair of matching shoes and some accessories, namely a white corsage that will go with Leon’s outfit.

Everything’s going as you had planned.

“This is so exciting!” Jace exclaims as he waits beside you, holding a large box that’s carrying a carton of popcorn and a massive drink within. Joltik sits on his shoulder, with some kernels stuck to his fuzzy body and legs. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to actually go in the stadium as a spectator! And we’re watching a match together!!!”

He proceeds to whip out a glittery blue and yellow sign that says “Volkner #1”. He’s not alone, you see a large group of Volkner fans up ahead, chatting loudly and wearing Luxray hats; they can be heard animatedly discussing his strategies and his pokemon. Meanwhile, Leon fans wearing copies of his signature snapback and Charizard hats pass by, holding up signs that says ‘Leon #1’.

“I’m sorry, chuck, but I gotta cheer for Volkner, ya know?” he says.

“It’s fine, I’m going to be cheering for Leon.”

Jace scoffs whilst you crack a grin. “I don’t think we’ve hung out like this before, not for a long time anyway,” he says, before he scratches the back of his head. “…Actually, I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“Volkner asked me if I wanted to work in his gym. He tried to get me a position a few years ago but I had moved to Galar by then,” he says quietly, and somehow you’re not liking where this conversation is leading.

“Are you leaving, Jace?” you ask.

Jace blinks blankly, before he nods.

“……..Oh,” you squeak out.

The stadium grows quiet.

The screaming fans, the chatter, the music in the background, the flashing videos….

None of those seems to matter to you anymore.

“Chuck?” he nudges you by the shoulder, “don’t worry, I’m not leaving immediately…so cheer up and let’s enjoy the match!”

The doors open and security begin to allow patrons to enter, causing many fans up ahead to scream and shout and the line begins to move quickly.

You breeze through security who checks your bag and you’re allowed in. Inside, fans can be seen running around with their friends and families and pokemon whilst stadium assistants divert lost fans to their seats.

With Jace, you find your block and navigate to your seat; the stadium is already alit with chanting fans and music from the massive TV screen that’s blaring various Macro Cosmos adverts. Very soon, the remainder of the seats soon begin to fill up and you are surrounded by thousands of adoring fans.

Jace swaps seats with the person beside you so you can be seated together and soon, the stadium lights go off and the crowd goes wild as a swirl of lights form on the pitch from the ceiling flicker on and circle wildly before a blond man with a moustache donned in a white and black football jersey arrives, cruising on his Aegislash.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Wyndon Stadium! My name is Dan and I will be your host today!!!”

The crowd erupts into cheers as he continues to introduce and outline the match before he gestures towards your direction.

“Welcome to the annual Galar-Sinnoh exhibition match! Today, we have Leon, our beloved Champion of Galar, who will be representing Galar’s finest trainers! Tonight, his opponent will be Volkner, who has come all the way from Sunyshore City, representing Sinnoh’s very best!” Dan introduces. “Please put your hands together to give a very warm welcome to Galar’s very best, the one and only….LEON!”

The stadium is booming with cheering and applause as Leon appears; you see his face shown on the TV screen as he strides onto the pitch, waving to the crowd. You can hear lots of high-pitched screaming.

“And now, please welcome the ultra-charismatic, the cool and collected, electrifying VOLKNER!!!!!”

At the opposite end, Volkner appears. He looks calm despite the sheer madness. The boisterous cheers and applause do not stop as the Champion strolls towards the middle of the pitch, ready to meet Volkner. You feel strange towards Volkner now, knowing that he’s offered Jace a job.

You’re happy for Jace, but this means he will be leaving Galar…

“Leon Leon Leon!” chants a row of girls nearer the back, and they break you out of your thoughts; they’re holding massive signs with Leon’s face on it, decorated with little lights and cardboard lovehearts.

“LEON!” someone screams in another block, “LEON, FUCKING MARRY ME! AND HAVE MY FUCKING BABIES!”

“LEEEEEEOOOOOOOONNNNN!” another fan roars, as though they are imitating a slow-motion reel.

You cannot tell if Leon can hear his loyal fans shrieking though he does look up and around with a smile as the camera flashes and the cameras roll from all over.

He offers a little wave and the audience goes wild.

You hold your breath as Leon and Volkner are finally within vicinity of one another, and they shake hands.

They exchange some words which you cannot hear due to being too far away, but when both turn round, Leon spots you in the crowd and grins.

You smile in response and wave.

Dan steers his Aegislash between the two contestants, holding up two flags – one black and one white. With a blow of the whistle, he raises his arms, the flags in the air.

“Match, begin!”

….

It’s time for the party.

The match is over.

Volkner lost.

You leave the stadium, hoping to get the chance to see or speak to Leon but from his forced smile and the slightest drop of his shoulders which he quickly corrects before anyone catches on, you can tell how exhausted he is and as he enters the corridor and out of sight, you see a group of reporters and their camera men trailing after him, shouting and yelling over each other, desperate for post-battle interviews and photos.

Leon is shortly followed by Chairman Rose and Oleana and they’re also surrounded by the paparazzi, but they ignore the group and venture off to where Leon had disappeared.

It’s not the appropriate time to see or speak to him. You will meet him at the party so you and Jace leave the stadium together before splitting up; you have to get ready for the upcoming party now and will find another time to catch up properly.

With Sonia’s help, you leave the house once you’re ready and take a Corviknight taxi to the Rose of the Rondelands where the party is taking place, arriving at reception just in time.

You find your name on the list, sign your name on the book and hand it back to the staff, who in turn, provide you with a black leathery mask.

“What’s this for?” you murmur.

“It’s for all the guests. Optional, of course, but part of the mystery and intrigue,” says the concierge, grinning.

“Cool.”

With the mask in hands, you lift it up and over your eyes, then tie the straps securely over the back of your head.

A set of double doors manned by two smart-looking gentlemen in suits is your next destination and as you approach them, they open the doors for you and you step inside where a large and grandiose hall awaits you.

The interior is simply breathtaking, painted a crisp white and covered with classical antique paintings framed in gold of all shapes and sizes. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceilings, casting little pearls of glittery light on the rich lush rugs under your feet. You stop to stare, soaking in the view with awe.

The hall is alit with the gentle chatter from the guests within and as you look around, no-one pays attention to your presence. Half of the guests are also wearing their masks, mostly the women. There is no-one here you recognize, mask or not, and you certainly blend in with no qualms.

A live orchestra plays in the corner, an ethereal but seductive melody emitting from their instruments. A few waiters and waitresses weave past you, asking if you are interested in champagne and canapes. You help yourself to several questionable-looking snacks that apparently costs four to five figures per piece and as you chew and swallow, your mouth is alive with unique flavors and tastes you have never experienced before.

It’s simply the best thing you have ever tasted; the food is exquisite.

Begrudgingly, you admit that Rose knows how to take care of guests.

As you ponder where Leon is, you scour for him silently until you spot a very handsome man standing behind the balustrade of the grand staircase at the far end of the hall; it’s none other than Leon and he’s dressed in the red outfit he had shown you the other day with his long hair neatly brushed and tied into a ponytail with a ribbon, a black mask securely fitted over his golden eyes.

You take a moment to admire how ravishing he looks, until he shifts to address a guest and you see an individual to his left; he’s not alone.

Miss Galar stands beside him…

…wearing a red dress.

There are other guests donned in crimson of course, but as you cautiously throw a quick glimpse to yourself, it occurs to you that you are both wearing a dress that are of similar shade. Against your control, you flit your gaze to her again to scrutinize her clothing; her dress is obviously far more expensive and shinier than yours.

You tilt your head to the side, feeling somewhat challenged somehow, and it’s an unfamiliar sensation to you; all in all, you wished she wasn’t wearing red either.

Leon finishes speaking to his group and he averts his gaze to the great hall; his eyes wanders the hall until he spots you looking up at his direction and your gazes meet. He studies you quietly, subjecting you to a sweeping look from head to toe and you hold your breath as the world shifts; everything seems to grind to a stop and time appears to have slowed down. Every individual in the hall dissolves into the background, grouping together into undecipherable blobs and blending with the walls, disappearing one by one, until it’s just you and Leon.

He stares at you for a long time, before he grins.

And he departs from his group, excusing himself politely, though Miss Galar looks like she wants to follow him.

He’s heading towards your direction and your heart flutters with anticipation; you watch as Leon strolls down the stairs, his eyes on you only.

However, the live orchestra crawls to a stop and a bright spotlight suddenly shines on Leon as he reaches the last step, effectively halting him in his tracks. The rest of the lights in the hall also disappear in a split second, bathing you and the remainder of the guests in darkness.

Leon throws his glimpse over his shoulder to see Rose standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in a sleek and shiny black tuxedo.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, and the conversation dies down and the hall gradually simmers into silence as Rose makes his way down the stairs.

Talk about making a dramatic entrance, you think, as Rose thanks everyone for attending the party and goes on about something you don’t exactly care about.

He has Leon stuck under the spotlight and Leon has no choice but to smile at the guests.

Rose finally joins Leon’s side; they talk for a brief moment about the League, the exhibition match and Galar’s energy plant and some deal they had signed with Sinnoh’s Sunyshore gym. The guests applause and a toast is raised.

With all the formalities over, Roses smiles widely and holds an arm out, “Very good. Now let’s start this wonderful evening with a dance; our beloved Champion and our wonderful Miss Galar.”

Leon grows still; the mask does not cover the acute surprise evidence on his face.

Rose snaps his fingers, the conductor taps his baton and the first violins begin with a vibrant but complicated, fast opening before the rest of the orchestra joins in, playing a romantic waltz.

The guests begin to murmur to one another as Miss Galar smiles and heads for Leon’s direction; she gracefully steps down the stairs and as she appears by his side, Leon looks at you, then at Miss Galar.

She’s waiting.

You slide your gaze to the floor, dejected.

First dance or not, you had hoped you would be the one dancing with Leon, not her.

Miss Galar performs a curtsy, clutching the flimsy material of her dress in hands as she crosses one leg over the other and Leon bows, closing his eyes with one gloved hand on his chest and the other behind his back. He throws one look at Rose, who smiles widely at him in response.

Miss Galar giggles as Leon offers her his arm and they both head to the dancefloor; the crowd dissipates for them to allow them through and once situated in the middle, he slides a hand over her waist and she eagerly slips her hand into his and in tune to the music, they start dancing.

You watch the scene limply from your little spot until a tall man steps in front of you and blocks your view. You make no effort to move to a new place for a better view and head for the tables.

Leon and Miss Galar are soon joined by other guests and the ballroom becomes full with waltzing couples whilst the remaining guests stand, watching.

There is no intention for the waltz to stop anytime soon so you find an empty seat and sit down.

This really wasn’t what you had in mind for the party.

A waiter saunters up to you with a tray of champagne glasses. “Would you like some blanc de noirs, madam?”

“Yes, please,” you utter, even though you have no clue what blanc de noirs actually is, and you help yourself to a flute glass, tipping the rim to your mouth and downing a sip.

It burns the back of your throat but you welcome it and suddenly, a familiar voice says, “May I have this dance?”

You look up to see a familiar blond man before you. He’s dressed in a dark, navy blue suit with a matching gold, paisley pattern tie. “Volkner?”

“Good evening,” he murmurs, before he switches to a more informal tone, “Well. Shall we?”

“I’m not very good at dancing.”

“That’s not a problem for me.”

You smile at him in response as he holds his hand out to you. You debate whether it’s right to be dancing with another man, but it’ll be rude to refuse also so you take his hand and you both head for the dancefloor where the lights are brighter, and the couples are actually dancing faster than you realized.

It’s too late to back down now, as Volkner stands before you, slipping his hand around your waist and holding your other hand with his firmly. He leads and you’re a little stunned at how easily he guides you around the floor beside the other couples. You do your best to step in tune to the music from your practice with Leon, determined not to mess it up.

“I’m sorry about the loss,” you say.

“It’s fine, I’ll just have to try harder next time,” Volkner remarks.

“You were so close; one more move and Charizard would’ve been KO’d.”

“Indeed.”

You aren’t sure whether to mention to him that you’re aware he offered Jace a job but before you can get the chance to mention it, the beat of the music alters slightly and the women begin to twirl.

“Wait, what’s going on-“ you begin, but Volkner helps you spin a circle and back. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

You’re somehow close to Leon and Miss Galar from the twirling maneuver that shifts you closer to them than you would have anticipated, and Leon notices your presences immediately.

Leon’s eyes widens and in mid-dance, he twists his head round to stare.

“Leon, what’s wrong?” asks Miss Galar, but he doesn’t reply.

Volkner flicks his glance over to the astounded Champion whose gaze is pinned on your form, and smirks.

“What is it?” you ask, oblivious, but when the music changes again, Volkner twirls you in a circle in tune to the music and on this occasion, his hand leaves your waist altogether. He steps backwards and you say, “What’s going on?”

“We’re changing partners.”

And on cue, a young woman in a pale dusty blue dress twirls towards him whilst her partner steps towards your direction.

You weren’t aware of this arrangement and your new temporary partner offers his hand; you have no choice but to participate in this group dance and the music isn’t stopping.

From this, you learn two things – firstly, the women are required to spin twice with their partners before they swap. Obviously you and Volkner joined halfway in which is why you danced for such a short time with him. Second, and that being said, Miss Galar had hogged Leon all to herself for numerous twirls.

Either way, if that was deliberate or not, perhaps they are an exclusive pair or weren’t supposed to change partners or something…you’re not sure but either way, after your third or fourth partner, you see Volkner with his current dance partner making his way up to Leon and Miss Galar and you recognize the buildup of the song that indicates it’s time to twirl and change partner once again, your current partner spins you around and you wonder who your next partner is.

It’s probably that guy with the mousy brown hair who has started to eye you up from the side – but you’re finally free as your partner lets go, slides away and someone grasps your hand gently and a grip settles on your waist; you’re twirled round and into someone’s arms but this time, your partner curls his hand around you in a rather intimate manner which neither of your previous dance partners had done before and he pulls you close and against his chest, your faces millimetres away.

Looking up, your eyes widen when you realise who it is.

“Leon!” you exclaim, your lips spreading into a wide smile.

The Champion answers you with a wink.

From the corner of your eye, you see a rather confused Miss Galar being grabbed by Volkner before he spins her into his arms.

The music starts up once more and with your hand tightly with his, Leon guides you around the dancefloor; your heart speeds up and you cannot stop smiling. His gaze never leaves you. This must be a dream, but an affectionate squeeze on your waist tells you otherwise.

Up ahead, and there is a rather wide opening within the circle of observers. Leon’s brows quirk up and he nudges his head to the opening which you spot as well. And as you turn, he expertly whisks you away from the rest of the dancers and into the crowd.

They are too busy to notice so you both slip unnoticed and Leon relinquishes his hold on your waist, your hands looped tightly together.

Away from the maddening crowd, you and Leon make your way out of the great hall and towards the large set of double doors that are now unmanned.

They lead to the garden and you both slip outside into the night, grinning widely; the Rondeland's garden is equally impressive as the great hall, with a huge stretch of grassy land filled with multicoloured flowers, lit up by lanterns strategically placed from one another to provide a dimly lit setting.

A large but impressive, neatly-trimmed hedge maze and a massive fountain stands in front of the steps where Goldeens and Seakings made out of stone leap and frolic in the air, water bubbling out from their mouths. The gurgling flow of rushing fresh water is accompanied with the vibrant buzzing of several wild bug pokemon that flutter past.

Stopping in front of the fountain, you’re panting as you both turn to each other; your eyes meet for a second time and Leon’s grin widens as you proceed to lunge towards him, pouncing onto his chest and throwing your arms around his shoulders.

He bundles you up immediately, pressing you hard against his chest as he comfortably encircles his arms around your waist and buries his nose into your neck. You laugh as his hair tickles the curve of your cheek and Leon picks you up and off the ground an inch or so to spin you around in a small circle before settling you back onto your feet.

He's grinning widely from ear to ear, looking at you up and down and soaking in the sight.

"You look lovely," he murmurs.

"Thank you," you reply shyly, your cheeks feeling warm as you reach up to fiddle with the hem of his white cravat absent-mindedly. He watches your actions with interest as you utter, "And you look very dashing tonight, sir Champion. You really suit the colour red."

Leon chuckles as you silently preen him and gently sweep away some of his long hair. You dust and brush your hands over his broad shoulders before you run your fingertips over the impressive black lining and stitches of his coat and the gold buttons.

Before you pull away, he catches your hand with his, lifting your knuckles to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss over your skin. You blush heavily in response as he nudges his head towards the garden with a smile.

"Shall we go for a walk?"

With a nod, you're both grinning widely as you loop your arms together and proceed to walk down the steps and towards the fountain.

"What if someone notices you're missing?"

The music from the grand hall is growing fainter as you stroll further into the garden with the Champion by your side but it doesn't appear to be stopping anytime soon.

Therefore, Leon shakes his head and says, "No, they'll be dancing for another hour or so."

"What if someone sees us?"

"Then I'll introduce you," he replies. "Did you find anything else about Gossamer Cave?"

"Unfortunately, no. I went to find Ezra this morning but he'd gone to work on a case."

”I was thinking,” Leon says, “you said you saw a shiny Lucario in the cave.”

”Yeah.”

”Lucario are known as the aura Pokemon. They also hold powers no ordinary humans possess. Do you think that’s what Ezra could have meant?”

You pause slightly, before turning to him with a smile. “Leon!” you utter, “what a brilliant observation.”

He blushes, cheeks growing red. “Ah, well... I wanted to help so I looked up as much information as I could find for you.”

“Thank you.”

You're halfway through the garden, venturing down the path which is lined with professionally-clipped hedges fashioned into Roselias and Roserades and you arrive at a small clearing with a pond and you leave Leon's side to hop onto a rock and despite your high heels, you carefully step over them, maintaining your balance by holding your arms out. A Goldeen and Barboach lurking within the murky depths look up at you for a split second or so before quickly zipping away from the surface to hide within some tall reeds, leaving behind shimmering ripples in the water under the moonlight.

Leon promptly comes scurrying after you with his arms out. "Be careful," he says as he grabs your hand; you neatly finish one lap and hop off and into his awaiting arms with a grin.

He gives you a lopsided smile in return and you're suddenly aware of how close you are standing together and he hasn't looked away from you.

"I missed you," you murmur.

"Me too," he replies.

He holds your gaze and you daren't look away; his honeyed eyes pinned onto your form. It's quiet now, the faint music emitting from the hall has slowly ebbed away into nothingness as you and Leon stand close and all you can hear is your beating heart. He takes one step closer and gently cups your face with one hand; he begins to lean forwards, his eyes closing.

You allow your eyes to close in anticipation of a kiss. Yet before your lips can meet, a tiny crystal blue light gently bobs its way into the little gap between you and the Champion, hovering up and down in the air playfully. It's unwarranted presence causes you both to stop as it's soon joined by other little lights of various shades, twinkling in the dark in beautiful colours of red, pink, yellow and green and as you and Leon glance around, more and more of the lights appear. In seconds, you are surrounded and illuminated by the small lights that have seemingly appeared from nowhere.

"...Aren’t these the same lights we saw in the Slumbering Weald?" Leon utters.

As you peer at the little blobs inquisitively, you nod and lift your arm with your palm out, allowing a small cluster to float over and settle in the base of your hand, illuminating the base of your chin with an iridescent, warm glow.

"They are. I wonder what they're doing here?" you reply, smiling as you prod at the orbs with a fingertip.

It sends them flying into numerous directions before they gently float backwards and towards you; they continue to swarm, bathing you and Leon with their ethereal light.

"They're attracted to you," Leon says.

”...Maybe I got it wrong, maybe they’re not just fairy lights, but...aura?” you mutter under your breath.

Whilst you ponder the true nature of the lights, Leon watches you for a brief moment before he leans forwards and presses a gentle kiss over your forehead. You stiffen slightly, as he proceeds to tuck a stray strand of hair from the side of your face to behind your ear. Your heartbeat soars, and you look up as the side of his palm brushes against your cheek.

”Leon?”

"I never told you how beautiful you looked that night," he murmurs, and you smile.

With his hand over your cheek to keep you in place, Leon brings you forwards and leans down to meet your lips in a passionate kiss.

...

[prairiesongserial]

13.4

John followed Cody through the crowd. Cody went fast, ducking through tight spaces that closed themselves before John reached them. John kept finding himself going the long way around clumps of circus members. He grew further and further behind, unable to sustain Cody’s pace, until finally, he lost him. John stood still, breathing heavily as people flowed around him, passing within inches, or grazing his arms as they slipped by. They loudly complained about the stop. Some entertained themselves with card tricks and other circus antics: one clown was using the lip of a truck bed as a balance beam on which to practice somersaults. The bells on her shoes felt like they were clanging inside John’s head.

John started forward again, slowly, staring straight ahead. His imagination wasn’t doing him any favors. It was tempting to look for the faces of the Good Guys at the periphery, to see if there was anything written on their expressions one way or another. John forced himself not to look at anything at all.

He was jostled to attention by a hand on his wrist. He shook off the touch, turning on instinct to glare at whoever it was.

It was Friday. She looked up at him with round eyes, lashes sticky with makeup, face framed by blond curls that John still hadn’t gotten used to.

“Whoa, you look pissed,” she said. She paused. “You don’t usually get mad, do you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you mad.”

John’s eyebrows spoke for him as emotions he didn’t necessarily have the words for, nor the desire to share, churned in his gut.

“Okay, backtrack,” Friday said. “I’m glad I found you, cause you need to see this. I left Val over this way.”

Just Val? John thought. Numbly, he followed Friday. She kept a slow pace, her eye frequently finding John over her shoulder.

John ended up crammed into a ring of people, a mix of circus members and Good Guys, all watching four figures at the center of the circle: Johannes, Ezra, the leader of the Good Guys, and Cody. John stood between Val and Friday. Val hardly looked down when John arrived, his attention fully engrossed in what was going on.

Johannes and Ezra were arguing loudly with the leader of the Good Guys. John couldn’t bring himself to look at Cody; as long as Cody was still standing, that was good enough for him. John’s stare instead fell on the leader of the Good Guys. Their red hair was pushed in odd directions by the goggles they wore perched on their head. They seemed amused, black-painted lips curled into a smile.

“How can I?” they said. “The gentleman invoked parley.”

Cody’s head turned to face the Good Guy, and John caught sight of the streak of black paint across Cody’s eyes. Dimly, he was aware of Friday’s grip on his shoulder.

“That doesn’t mean you have to - ” Johannes sputtered. “I’ll go with him, okay? As his advisor.”

The leader of the Good Guys hissed softly through their teeth, the sound taken up by a few other Good Guys near John in the crowd.

“You are Johannes Madsen of the Madsen and Graves,” the Good Guy said. “You are not a Dead-Eye. And I don’t see any others here.”

They glanced through the crowd, their gaze resting especially long on Val, Friday, and John’s faces.

“So, if Cody Allison wishes to invoke parley, he must come and parley,” the Good Guy said. “With the King. Under the mountain.”

Friday’s grip tightened. In the middle of the circle, Cody slowly nodded his assent. John could see the nervousness in his body. The way his fingers moved at his side, the way he made himself a defiant square, shoulders just a little too high. John forced his eyes away again, letting Friday’s hand on his shoulder pull him back.

Cody’s silence spoke volumes to John. He, too, had thought this lieutenant was the leader. He had taken one look at their bandanas and ragged clothes and thought the Good Guys were only about twice the size of the Dead-Eyes, sixty members or so strong, when really this party only represented the force necessary to collect a toll. There was no way to know how many more Good Guys there were waiting under the mountain.

“Fine,” Cody said at last. “Let’s go.”

The red-haired Good Guy beamed, the full force of their smile directed at Johannes.

“Sorry, boys,” they said. “You might want to make camp. This could take a while.”

They made a hand motion, thrusting one elbow forward so the knuckles of their hand struck their opposite shoulder. A force of six Good Guys extricated themselves from the circus, making their way toward the lieutenant.

“Come on, mister leader of the Dead-Eyes,” the red-head said. “Look alive.”

Mechanically, Cody moved with them, away from John. He didn’t look back to see if John was there. If he had, he would have seen John glaring at him.

“I didn’t let him do anything; he just did it,” Johannes argued.

John watched disinterestedly as Val held his own against both Johannes and Ezra. John leaned against the hood of the lead truck, a good ten feet away from the argument, with Friday. The rest of the circus was slowly setting up camp, giving the argument a very wide berth.

“I didn’t realize the circus had to follow Hemisphere rules,” Val said. “Why not refuse to hand Cody over? Unless you’re in bed with Hemisphere too?”

Johannes’s face reddened.

“God,” Ezra groaned, massaging his temples. “Val, be reasonable. Nobody handed Cody over. The man just walked away.”

John grit his teeth.

“Hey,” Friday said. “I think we should go on a walk.”

John gave her a sour look.

“Oh, come on,” she said, voice lilting. “This is no fun.” She paused, eyes locked on Val as the mild priest said some colorful things. “Well, it’s a little fun. But you’re not having fun.”

“No,” John said.

He peeled himself away from the hood of the truck and started forward; Friday was half a pace behind.

“You should stay,” he mumbled.

“Hey, now,” Friday began.

“None of us should go alone,” John said, then, realizing with frustration that he wasn’t being clear, he added, “So stay with Val.”

Friday arched her eyebrows at him. John continued forward, his cane heavy in his hand and his gun heavy on his hip. He marched through the argument Val and Johannes and Ezra were having. He was seeing Cody’s back in his mind’s eye as he passed over the spot where Cody had stood, only vaguely aware of Johannes hauling himself out of John’s way at the last second.

The small party of Good Guys was fifteen minutes ahead. John could follow their trail without worrying about being seen.

“Uh, John?” Ezra’s voice said from a thousand miles away.

“Let him go,” Johannes said.

“Let him go?” Ezra asked shrilly.

The brothers probably exchanged more words. John followed the trail of disturbed dust and boot scuffs that led, through winding paths, deeper into the valley.

John’s mind toyed with him, as he made his slow progress. If he hadn’t been so angry that Cody had left him in the crowd - and here his mind filled in with more anger, reminding him what it felt like to be unable to walk quickly, to have that used against him in order to leave him behind - only to go off by himself with a gang he didn’t understand, without so much as a conversation about it - more anger - John might have been able to stop him. John could have inserted himself into that conversation and argued Cody down. He could have smeared that makeup off Cody’s face. He could have put some on himself and been Cody’s partner in whatever plan - John hoped there was a plan - Cody had thought up.

Cody didn’t have anything to trade on. Nothing to parley with. John tried, as he put one foot in front of the other, not to think about what Cody might choose to trade if he thought it was the only way to get the rest of them out of this. Some people had romantic notions about indentures. Judging by how passive Cody had been when the circus had first captured them and leveled phony indentures against them, Cody might have been stupid enough to trade the last thing he had.

John had never managed to have that conversation with the rest of them - Val and Friday and Cody. He’d been content enough to burn the fake contracts and keep it to himself. Now he was almost as angry with himself as he was with Cody.

There were other gaps, too, other conversations that John had been avoiding. He paused to take a drink, staring down the path ahead. Conversations like, why did Cody cheerfully insist on setting up their tent every night despite the extra work, despite the fact that Val and Friday had taken cots and hammocks with the rest of the circus? Why did Cody talk so much, some nights, his thoughts happily running into each other until John fell asleep, while other nights he lay quietly on his bedroll, as if he was waiting for John to remember his part in the conversation?

John scrubbed frustrated tears out of his eyes. He needed to look at the marks in the dust to see which way Cody had gone.

13.3 || 13.5

[genuflectx]

Robot Butler/Reader CH 1

Ch 1 Length: 4,748 words

Full Story Length: 8,029 words

Main Kinks: Robots, risk of being seen/heard, public sex, creampie, fingering,

Other Warnings: Mentions of university, arguing with parents, former sex work,

1/30/2020: REPOST

(all images in aesthetic board are labeled for reuse with modification or are mine)

You took a bite of your chicken Marsala and cringed. It had been your mother's turn to make dinner, but she had never been a five star chef. You supposed she made up for that in her extensive mechanical skill sets. Where mother couldn't sauté, she could solder; where she couldn't bake, she could debug. And that was all well and good, but it did your family no favors at meal time, especially as you nearly choked. That was why, she declared, she and your father were going to be hiring someone else to do the cooking.

“You mean like... a personal chef?” asked your younger sister Lilly, on the brink of exploding with glee.

Mom smirked and tried to withhold her excitement. “A little more than that.”

“She means a new robot. That's what she means,” came your smug father.

Embarrassed, your mom's face reddened. Because she worked in a field that repaired damaged bots, she was greatly fond of them. Dad always teased her about her affinity with machines. Your three-story house already had two non-sentient cleaning bots, which sucked up dirt and debris on the floor. Mom had even named them: Debra and Deloris, the dust bunnies.

Your sibling was vibrating in her chair, eyes sparkling and grin ear-to-ear. It was obvious how she felt, but you were unsure. You were a college student, and felt that money was already spread far too thin to be hiring house staff willy-nilly, let alone one that needed a battery charge. The fact that your sister was to graduate high school in two years, before also heading to university, didn't help either.

You prudently let the fork rest, making no noise. “Can we afford a robot?”

At this, mom sat back and rose a brow. She wriggled a bit, as if smoothing a napkin in her lap. “Well. That's not the only announcement I have to make,” she glanced around the table, upping suspense. “I got a raise! An extra dollar an hour!” Then she added quickly, in a sing-song voice. “Plus he's discount, 'cause he's refurbished.”

“That's wonderful mom! But- he?” you squinted.

Lilly clapped softly. “A sentient robot!”

Through a full mouth, your dad nodded with a mumbled. “Eeeyup!”

The majority of household robots were considered non-thinkers, unable to form original thoughts or have emotions more complex than a slug. They were the robots in your phones, your appliances, the robots that could generate artwork or manufacturer small objects. You and Lilly had only interacted with free, complex-thought-driven robots a handful of times.

Sentient bots were more for the extremely rich, as typically only the rich could afford to hire and maintain them. They were stronger, more humanoid, and sometimes nearly indistinguishable from people. You loved bots, but you had to admit it. The idea of having a thinking one in your home frightened you just a little.

When time came for him to move in, you'd still been on the fence. You'd been expecting a thin, sharp-edged thing with a long, snooty face and cutting eyes. Instead, your mom led in a robot totally the opposite of the image of a butler.

He followed after her clumsily, turning sideways and ducking inside, and you could not help but see him as a sturdy Clydesdale trying to be somewhere he should not. He was in no way the delicate models designed to take up as little space as possible. Perhaps that is why your parents wanted to give him a chance, as who in their right mind would hire such a hulking thing to be their quiet, orderly butler? You found yourself blatantly staring.

You didn't think you'd ever seen a humanoid robot so big before. You wondered if his previous function had been in construction, or something equally as hefty. Everything about him was built for strength; with strong legs to move and strong arms to grasp.

He was tall and rotund. His shoulders were wide, not built for shimmying into the small door frames of your house. The arms were hard and stiff, perfect for lifting. Hands smooth and soft, square and flat, jointed together by middle mechanisms hidden in soft, flexible silicon. And his legs were thick and round, with built in shoes for feet.

The face was broad, with a strong brow line, and cheeks highlighted with sliced matte, the colors neon pink, yellow, green, and blue. There was no nose, ears, or lips. Instead there were five vertical slits in place of a mouth, where the speaker was located under the plates of his face. His eyes were big and just as neon as his cheeks, black pupils constantly dilated. Unlike the humanoid bots made now, he did not have a pseudo-skin scalp, and thus would need to wear wigs were he to want hair. Modernly, he was hairless, save for long, fake eyelashes. He was certainly a few years behind, as far as facial features went.

“And this is [Y/N], my apparently very quiet offspring. Can you say hi, [Y/N]?” Laughed your mom with good humor.

Lilly elbowed you in the side to grab your attention and you grunted, glaring at her. She smiled innocently as you craned your neck to answer.

“...Hi. Your name is?”

The bulky robot blinked his lavish eyelashes down at the two of you. “Designation: Ezra. I am enchanted.”

“Howdy enchanted, I'm Lilly! So, how much is mom paying you?”

Glare number two was shot her way, this time via your mom. Before she could scold her, your dad popped out of his study.

“Whoooops, forgot the robot was starting today. I wondered what all that hubbub was!”

You were increasingly embarrassed to be standing among these people who were, apparently, your family. As you and your parents showed Ezra around the house (Lilly tailing behind), you couldn't help but let your eyes wander.

Ezra wore a freshly ironed dark gray suit, with white underneath and a black tie. It was tailored perfectly, but looked humorous covering his wide shoulders. He was not a bot meant to wear clothes, but this get up was likely more appropriate for his new occupation. Nervous eyes snapped up when you realized you'd been checking out his butt.

He had his own room, which had previously been used for excessive storage. Now it was a carpeted resting room for him to recharge and enjoy his free time. It had a small book self, a comfortable loveseat, and a small television hooked into the wall. In one corner, near the loveseat, was an upright charging station with several thick, neatly organized chords. Sparse, but cozy.

He hadn't brought much to unpack; just a few books, a suitcase of professional clothing, and a small box full of extra parts for repairs, if job injury occurred.

Everyone left him to unpack in peace, but you were curious. You knocked at the door frame. “Knock knock! Just me, the 'very quiet offspring,'” you laughed.

Ezra's movements were jerky as he froze in the midst of setting down a book upon the self. “Yes? What may I help you with?”

You leaned against the frame, arms crossed and lips pursed. “Just wanted to say... welcome to the family, Ezra.”

He would smile if he had the means. “Thank you, I appreciate the warmth.”

After a moment of hesitation and a twirl of your hair, you shifted weight and went on. “I was wondering... mom said you were refurbished, right?”

He was keeping steady eye contact, hand still frozen inches from the bookshelf. “Yes, that's correct.”

“What did you used to be? You look like construction, or maybe someone who moves boxes,” you mused, head cocked and lips pursed.

Ezra finally set the book down and turned his body fully towards you. He was surprised by the question. His bright, ringed eyes stared forward, unblinking. “...Your mother hasn't told you?”

You shook your head.

Immediately, like ripping off a band-aid, he replied. “I was a sex worker.”

You stared, blank. He stared, blank. Really, it was terribly awkward. You felt blood rise to your skin and heat radiate from it in turn. A slight sense of panic set in.

“Oh. Okay. Well... goodnight!”

You shut his door and rushed, as quietly as possible, to your own room. You didn't even know why you felt so embarrassed, but you did. As you leaned back against your door, you realized that you'd perhaps been rude to pry. No need to drag up the past if he wanted to avoid it- not that he gave any indication one way or the other.

On the other hand... were you overreacting? It was just one little question, and he hadn't seemed bothered. Maybe you were just embarrassed about it because now you were thinking about him bending someone over and- you slumped to the floor. Holy shit. You just met him a few hours ago! Weren't you supposed to be nervous around sentient robots? But how could you be with those curves, and those eyelashes, and all those bright colors and, you sighed.

Clammy hands drug down your damp face. Deciding you needed to get your mind off of things, you settled in bed and pushed the thoughts away with a cute movie about dogs. After, you went promptly to sleep.

The next day Ezra got to work. Your parents left him a list of things to do, but told him not to fret about finishing them all since it was his first day. And, with Lilly locked in her room with her video games, you were the one who had to keep the robot in line. For example, if he needed to find a specific soap, or if he needed to know where certain dishes went, you were there to inform him. Luckily since it was summer, you or Lilly would always be around to help him adjust.

You idly watched some streaming while he tidied the living room around you. He was interesting. Very quiet; Ezra tended to do his work silently. He dusted the top of a high shelf with ease, not even needing to stand on tippy-toes to reach. You watched from the corner of your eye, secretly admiring the dip in his back and his tall stature.

He was the thickest sex bot you'd ever seen. As the thought unwillingly slipped into mind, you snapped your eyes back to the tablet screen in bashfulness. It was wrong of you to feel so attracted to someone who was obviously finished with that line of work. No doubt, he was made this way on purpose. Every straight edge, every curve, every flashy color had to be decided upon by a human. So perhaps even if you did feel some guilt, it was only natural to be at least a little attracted to him. It meant the designers did their job right.

Suddenly his pink-tinged frame was in front of you, and you jumped.

“I've finished the dusting. What's next on the list?”

You squinted at the paper in hand. “Mmm. Laundry. Know where the washer is?”

He nodded, and left the room without another word. After a few moments, he came tromping back up to you, a drooping pile of clothes in hand.

“Are these in need of washing?”

That was the pile of dirty clothes you'd had in a corner of your bedroom. A piece loosened as he adjusted, falling to the floor with a gentle whoosh. He squatted to pick it back up, and you blushed when you realized it was panties. You tried not to look embarrassed.

“Oh, yeah... Those are dirty.”

He noted your stare, and then he was gone again.

Ezra had actually been able to complete all the tasks on the list by the time your parents had come home. He'd even begun cooking a solid hour before hand. They were impressed with his ambition and praised him to high Heaven, giving all smiles.

As everyone doted on his cooking skills, your mom asked. “So, how did you feel your first day went Ezra? Did the kids give you Hell?” she joked, referring to you and your younger sister.

He was sitting at the table, though he didn't eat. Your mom had insisted. “Very well, mam. [Y/N] was a great help to me.”

“Were they now?” your dad's brow rose.

“I just read from the list, that's all,” you shrugged. “If you could call that a help.”

The robot continued. “Yes, and it sped up completion by exactly five minutes. Dinner would have been a little late, otherwise.” Sounding very genuine, he punctuated softly with “Thank you.”

You leaned on your hand and smirked, feeling fuzzy. It made you feel silly to be so happy that he'd openly appreciate you in front of your family, but that was how you felt. It was nice. You twirled the fork in your pasta, then nibbled quietly.

“What about me?” groused Lilly.

Like an expert salesman, he soothed her irritation. “You kept to yourself, which gave me much room to work. Thank you too, Lilly.”

She nodded and continued to eat sloppily, appeased.

After dinner you offered to help Ezra clean up. He'd rejected the idea at first, considering this was what he was being paid for. But you suggested he could take up cleaning the kitchen, and you would take the dining room. He reluctantly allowed this.

As you wiped off the table, removing any trace of being eaten on, he side stepped behind you a little too close. His pelvis gently brushed against your rear. You squeaked and your face went red.

“Is something the matter?” He asked innocently, stopping in his tracks.

Unable to face him, you shook your head no. “I just- I thought I saw a mouse! That's all.”

He hummed beside you, leaning with one palm flat to the clean table's surface. “I see. Then I shall put 'mouse traps' down on the grocery list.”

You swallowed and nodded, scolding your body inwardly. Ezra seemed satisfied, slowly sliding his hand off the table and walking to the kitchen with half the dishes. He returned soon to get the rest, leaning over you to gingerly grab them. He could have walked around, but no. At the very least he was tall enough to do this without pressing against your back.

“What are you doing?” you stammered, twisting around to glance up at him nervously.

He stacked the plates in one hand. “Getting the dishes. [Y/N], if I may... you've looked like you've been burning up all day.” The back of his hand felt your forehead, then your cheek. “Shall I fetch a thermometer?”

You were too stunned to speak, your poor body reacting from the close quarters and his gentle touch. The silicone of his hands were warm. For a moment you stared up at him, brows furrowed and floundering for words. It didn't help that you were pretty much being forced to press against the table to keep the distance. But would it be so bad if the distance closed?

Your throat found words on its own, without your brain. You turned back around, slumping somewhat with hands to the table, tense. “N-n-no, not necessary, I'm fine!”

He processed your reaction. The plates were set down fastidiously, so as not to clink. Then he placed a palm to your back, in the location of your heart. You tensed in further, breath nearly stopping as he went on.

“Are you certain? Your heart rate has picked up significantly, as well,” he said smoothly.

Deep breath. You let it go shakily. “...You know what you're doing, don't you?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

He chuckled.

You let that response sink in. Of course he knew, he'd been in a line of work that required him to comprehensively understand human physical reactions.

“I'm sorry. I'm embarrassed.”

His hand slid down a few inches, towards your side. You shivered involuntarily and dropped your head, ashamed of yourself.

Ezra chuckled again. “That's alright. Did you want this?”

You took another breath, glad he could not see how your face and ears and hands were burning. You gave a nod and arched, ass bumping against his body. With that confirmation to yourself, you could feel the blood rushing low.

“Did you want this?” you parroted back, unsure. Worry gnawed at you.

He hummed, bringing hands to lightly grasp your hips. He enjoyed the way his fingers wrapped around your body. With a slight buck, grinding against your ass, he replied. “You're very interesting.”

“Ha. That's what I've been thinking about you. Funny. U-um, we should go upstairs.”

“Why?”

You peeked over your shoulder to give him a pointed look. “Cause someone could walk in?”

He ground against you harder, using the grip on your hips. You couldn't help but bite your lip and breathe hard, already getting worked up. Suddenly he was pushing a palm against your shoulder, forcing your elbows to buckle and your head to lower against the table. You grumbled, and struggled a bit. The hand didn't budge.

“Come on, I don't want my parents to see!” then you shuddered with disgust. “Or Lilly. Eugh.”

“Be still. They won't.”

You sighed, but found yourself complying. Something about the depravity of the situation was riling you up, and you could feel the dampness of your panties growing every time he spoke.

“Ju-just... try and be quiet,” you pleaded.

He nodded, lifting the hand that had been pinning you. Gray butler's pants were unfastened, and then feet were nudging yours apart. You pressed your forehead to the table, arms wrapped around your head to hide yourself away. But when something thick rubbed up between your still covered legs you jolted. Lifting from the table and glancing under yourself, you could vaguely make out the round tip of his dick.

“Oh,” you breathed, excited but a little nervous. “You're big... and pretty. It's a rainbow, like your cheeks!”

“And my arms. And my legs. I must show you my body, sometime.”

The implications burned you up. He was pulling down your shorts and panties with care, now. Spreading your cheeks and nudging your legs apart even further, he hummed with satisfaction.

“Beautiful,” his flat fingers went to your already sticky folds. “Wet.”

You shoved your head back into your arms and wiggled. “We don't have time for foreplay, someone could walk in at any minute Ezra! Just... put it in already. Please,” you sounded desperate.

That wasn't something he was used to hearing. Ezra was rather fond of foreplay, and was worried you would hurt with the girth of his tip. After all, the head of his dick was much wider than the base, and it was covered in symmetrically placed bumps. Without enough foreplay, it may be difficult to squeeze it all inside. But he also aimed to please, and would obey up until you started gritting teeth.

He rubbed his smooth cock through your folds a few times, enjoying the warmth and softness. You were obviously embarrassed as Hell, but he could tell you needed it so badly. The tip pressed against your entrance, then let up, then pressed again. He was trying to be easy.

You moved back the next time he inched forward. The tip stretched and burned as it slipped just barely inside, and you gasped.

“Are you alright?” he asked, soothing with a slow swipe across your lower back.

“...Just give me a minute.”

After a rest, he was slowly, slowly, enveloping himself in you. As expected it was taking some time, you just weren't used to the width or the knots. But oh, you were determined. If you were going to lean over the dining room table, risking being caught fucking the new robot butler, then by God you were going to finish getting fucked. Assuming he would ever hilt at all. The bumps were the hardest parts to slip inside.

When he finally did hilt you were ecstatic. It felt swollen and twitched inside of you, barely able to fit. But you were just so full. So amazingly, painfully full. You'd never felt so filled up in your entire life. No greasy college kid could ever compare to this, and you got the feeling there would be no coming back from it.

“May I?”

“God yes,” you whispered.

He rotated his hips, only pulling out a few inches. The girth made you grit your teeth and hiss, your body staying deathly still. In turn Ezra leaned over your back, his arm wriggling under your belly and smoothing over your clit. His weight against your skin was electrifying.

He rubbed you off while grinding into you at a slow pace. If he were human, you were sure he'd have already become erratic with the inability to multi-task. But he kept it up perfectly. You muffled a sigh with your arm. The budding pleasure helped your muscles relax, easing the removal of his cock.

Ezra slowly pulled out in one gentle stroke, and plunged in just as quickly. He began to rock methodically. You bit your arm to keep from making any noise, drool oozed down your skin.

“So tight,” he whispered, pressing the flat pads of his fingers against your clit a little harder.

You hummed quietly in approval. Suddenly you wondered something in the back of your mind. Could he feel pleasure, too? Or was he doing this simply because he still had it programed in his coding? Releasing teeth from sore arm, you asked. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” he breathed, shoving in particularity hard.

You squeaked and slapped a hand to your mouth. Ezra laughed dryly and swirled his fingers before violently thrusting. Your ass smacked and clapped loudly against his pelvis, filling the room with the sounds of sex. You nearly had to suffocate yourself in your arms to keep from involuntarily moaning from the sudden, intense sensations. To make matters worse, the stacked plates at your side clattered and clinked noisily. Just as quick as he began, he slowed again.

You caught your breath, legs shaking. “Don't do that! That was so loud!”

The robot nodded. Coyly, he decided to jerk you off intensely instead. You became a gasping, shivering mess bent across the table. He listened to the beautiful sound of your heart racing, felt the way you began to sweat and buck. As you started to come around his rainbow cock he stopped fucking you, just letting you whisper harshly into your arms with the pleasure.

“Mmm. So nice,” he praised as you twitched.

You came down from the high and panted as quietly as possible. Ezra had stood back up, stroking your back sweetly with affection. He slowly removed himself from your tight wet walls, strings of slick connecting the two of you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, still rather breathless.

“You have finished.”

Looking back over your shoulder, you rose a brow and pursed your lips. “You haven't, though.”

“Correct.”

When he didn't say anything more, instead staring at you with confusion, you continued. “Don't you want to cum?”

He titled his head and blinked those long, pretty eyelashes. “Typically sex is for the enjoyment of the customer.”

You straightened and turned to face him, shorts and panties around your ankles. “I'm not a customer, and you're no longer in sex work.”

This seemed to confuse him further. “But you are my employer.”

“Listen,” you bit your lip, thinking a second. “You can feel pleasure, can't you?”

He nodded.

“And you can cum?”

He nodded again.

With a slight jump you settled your ass against the dining room table (sorry mom and dad) then leaned back against your arms, legs spread. “Then fuck me, Ezra.”

His cock leaped, and you couldn't help but notice the slight temperature rise from the space between skin and metal. “Yes,” he agreed, voice cracking.

His hands grasped the fatty part of your thighs and pushed them away even further, putting your dripping pussy more in the limelight. You should have been much more bashful at that. But after he made you orgasm so well, and after treating you so sweetly, you just wanted him to have his own fun. Poor bot probably had blue balls! Besides that... sex working robots couldn't get you pregnant, and you had never been cum inside before. The thought thrilled you.

You watched him line the tip of his round shaft up with your hole again eagerly. He was nearly shaking. Hot air was fanned out of his body as it pushed inside for a second time, slowly settling in. It slipped inside much easier this time around. You sighed, loving the fill.

“There you go,” you whispered, sliding so you were on your back and he could hold your lower body up.

He fucked you moderately, but rhythmically like a metronome, head tilted back and eyes closed. Your warm pussy was so amazingly small around his soft silicone cock. The suction was nearly unbearable. Almost no one let him fuck them to his completion during his time with sex work, outside of those who got off to sucking his thick robot dick.

Ezra pressed your feet together and set them against one shoulder, further compressing your walls against him. He groaned quietly, the first time you'd heard him give any verbal indication of pleasure.

“Where shall I cum?” He asked politely.

You gently felt yourself up and smirked naughtily. “Inside of me, Ezra. Just let go.”

“Ahhh,” sighed the robot quietly, his movements becoming small. Soon he was pushing your legs back, lifting your ass from the table, and hilting himself deeply into your folds.

You squished yourself against him the best you could to be helpful. Ezra's legs rattled as he fought to keep upright, the load he'd suppressed for months pumping generously into you at a lovely angle. As his wide legs slowly regained their stability, you noticed the hour hand upon the clock. It hung there mockingly; the only eye that had witnessed your copulation.

“It's late,” you whispered, with Ezra still holding your ankles against his shoulder and his dick pulsating inside, as if organic.

Finally, the colorful rings of his eyes were visible again. He stared down at the place where your bodies connected, happy and fulfilled.

“Did you hear me?”

Dark pupils shifted up to yours. “Yes. I apologize. Here,” he answered quietly, slipping his dick out.

Faux-cum dribbled onto the table. He helped you off like a gentleman and hastily refastened his wrinkled pants. The two of you just stood there, tense. Ezra suddenly became shy and glanced off to the side, his hands hidden behind his back.

Still shorts-less, You half-smiled and stood onto your tiptoes, where you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his pink chin.

Ezra expelled hot air, and wished he could smile back. “I will finish the dishes and wipe the table, now. You should sleep. Eight hours is generally the amount humans need.”

You nodded while clumsily shimmying your underwear and shorts back on over exposed hips. Yanked on them a bit when accidentally giving yourself a wedgie. There was still cum inside of you, and the wetness from your lovemaking was rather uncomfortable.

“I'll clean myself up, then phew-” you slumped. “I think I'm gonna pass out. Think anyone heard?”

He turned his head slightly, as if listening. A few second went by. “No. I don't hear anybody nearby. We are safe.”

A sigh of relief. “Then I'll... see you in the morning, Ezra,” you pat him on the chest gingerly.

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but eventually lowered his head and straightened his back. “Yes. Sleep well [Y/N]. I will be here,” he picked up the stack of plates automatically.

With one last look, you padded silently out the door. A sweep of the room revealed dark emptiness; Ezra was right, no one had been around to hear. Thank goodness. So you crept on through, up the stairs, and to the bathroom for clean up. Then, once you were satisfied with the job, crawled languidly under the covers and had the best sleep of your life.

[playlist-reid]

Spectacular Rival- Spencer Reid

welcome to a Spencer blurb.  I think I might actually be back now, so be on the look out!  this one is inspired by Spectacular Rival by George Ezra.  

enjoy!

word count: 1,794

It was always hard for you to calm down after a case.  After all the excitement and thinking and profiling, you were always so tired but unable to sleep the day or two after, and this was no exception.  You were still relatively new to the team, and you were just now beginning to know the team well.  

You clicked particularly well with JJ, given that she was the same age as you and you both grew up in Pennsylvania, and you also got along really well with Spencer.  In fact, you spoke to him most over the others, unintentionally, because he seemed to understand you.  He didn’t press you for details or to talk more, but he was perfectly comfortable to sit in silence with you, which was far more intimate than the two of you made it out to be.  He had become the closest friend you had quickly, and you quite enjoyed this.

Your team was leaving in the morning, bright and early, and you sat on the edge of your hotel bed, staring out the large window into the city of Seattle.  It was drizzling out, as expected for Seattle, and you were itching to get out.  You enjoyed the rain, honestly, but it was not as pretty as the rain outside your home in Virginia.  

Becoming antsy, you stood, grabbing a few dollars from your backpack and left your room in search of some vending machines.  As you wandered the carpeted halls of the hotel, you noticed the light shining under Spencer’s door.  With a quiet hum, you approached his door and knocked quietly three times.

It took mere seconds for the door to open, and Spencer stood there in his pajamas, which consisted of plaid fleece bottoms and a shirt that was far too big for even him, and he looked at you with a confused look on his face.  “(Y/N)?  Are you okay?”  He asked immediately and stepped to the side, allowing you to come into his room.  

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”  You asked him worriedly, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you crossed your arms over your stomach, covering the picture of a cat on your thick sweater.  

Spencer shook his head.  “No, I was just reading.  It's hard to sleep after a day like today.”  He explained and glanced at the desk behind him.  

With heat rising to your cheeks, you shifted your weight from one let to the other.  “Would you mind if I sat with you?  I don’t think I want to be alone right now.”  You asked him pathetically and ducked your head down, hoping silently that he was not profiling you as you spoke. 

He motioned inside of his room.  “Of course not.” He told you with a small, comforting smile, and you scurried in by him and into the room, hovering by his bed.  Spencer moved back to the desk, where there was an open book, and he sat, glancing at you.  “You can sit down.”  He told you with a laugh, and you laughed lightly as well, at your own awkwardness.  

You sat on his bed, leaning against the headboard, and sighed lightly.  You leaned your head back against the wall and allowed your eyes to shut.  You were thinking, not of anything in particular, but you felt much more at rest in Spencer’s company. 

A few moments passed and you heard quiet music begin playing from Spencer’s corner of the hotel room, and a small smile formed on your lips.  It was a classical station on Pandora - you knew this because of the commercials - and it was almost so quiet you couldn’t hear it.  

As you listened and relaxed, you opened your eyes once more, but didn’t lift your head, and stared at the ceiling.  Spencer, however, interrupted your thoughts.  “(Y/N)?”  He asked, and you lulled your head forward, making eye contact with him.  

“Hm?”

Spencer had turned in his chair, and was facing you, and there was a complex look on his face.  “I don’t mean to pry, and you don’t have to answer me if you don't want to, but I’ve noticed you don’t wear a ring.  Are you married?”  He asked you with a reddened face.

With a small laugh, you shook your head.  “No, I’m not married.”  You answered with an amused look on your face. 

His face was relentlessly red and he nodded lightly.  “Hm.”  He hummed, as if this perplexed him. 

“Is something wrong with that?”  You asked as the smile on your lips faded. 

Spencer’s eyes widened quickly and he shook his head.  “No, no, of course not.  It is just that sixty-six percent of women are married by age thirty and you are so...”  He began, thinking for a word, and he looked away from you.  “You are rather appealing and it is always a little confusing when someone like you is not married.”  He said quickly and in a higher voice than he normally had, and his face was more red than you had ever seen. 

For a moment, you were silent.  But the smile on your face was simply unbelievable.  “That’s incredibly sweet of you to say, Spencer.”  You told him, and honestly, you were at a loss for words.  “I suppose I just haven’t found the right man for me yet.”  You shrugged lightly, and your cheeks were hot as well.  

Continuing with his questioning, Spencer tilted his head to the side and pivoted in his chair to face you further.  “Out of pure curiosity, what would be considered the right man?”  He asked you seriously with his eyebrows knitted together.

This question threw you off a little.  Your small smile faded, and you looked towards your hands, thinking.  “Hm...” you hummed.  “The right man would be smart and understanding and sensitive, able to hold a conversation and make me laugh.  Preferably a bit taller, but does not have to be.  Someone who is able to be my best friend and partner.”  You finished with a satisfied smile, and looked up to Spencer once more, and about choked on your own tongue.  As soon as you looked at him, it had dawned on you that you were describing Spencer to a T, and, by the look on his face, he realized it too.  “Oh.”  You mumbled, your face now burning more than his.

Spencer smiled, and glanced down to his hands in his lap.  “Sounds like a nice guy.”  He said with a small laugh, and you covered your face with your hands. 

“Oh, Spencer, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to put you in this position.”  You began to rant and stood, beginning to move towards the door.  “I’m so sorry.”  You apologized again and turned your back to him as he began to stand as well.  As you tried to flee, Spencer grabbed your upper arm and spun you around to face him.  

With a frown, he looked at your worried and embarrassed face.  He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.  You could tell that he was struggling to form words, but you were too mortified to speak.  “Don’t leave.”  He finally murmured and your eyes widened slightly.  “I...” He began, swallowing hard.  “I think I feel the same.”

Carefully, and slowly, you nodded, and Spencer let go of your arm.  Spencer was not a very physical being.  He was often reserved and gentle, for as far as you had observed, and this little act made your stomach bubble with an odd excitement.  “Okay.”  You whispered in reply and he nodded as well, ducking his head low. 

Spencer took a shallow breath and opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it with a hurried and rushed voice.  “Do you dance, Spencer?”  You questioned him and watched as he knitted his eyebrows together once more. 

“No, not really.”  He answered confusedly, and you smiled faintly, a frail and pathetic smile, and walked to the phone on the desk that was playing the background classical music.  You turned it up, just enough for it to reach the entire room, and you turned to Spencer.  

“Won’t you dance with me?”  You asked in an equally frail voice as your smile and you held your hand out for him to take. 

Spencer hesitated, but you didn’t move, and slowly, after what felt like hours of waiting, he took your hand carefully and moved towards you.  You could tell he didn’t know what to do with his hands, so you led, placing your hands on his shoulders and leaning your head against his collarbone.

Slowly, Spencer rested his hands on your sides, so very respectfully, and the two of you began swaying to the classical music, not on rhythm and far too slow for the tempo.  As you swayed, Spencer spoke, and his voice rumbled through your ears.  “We can’t be together.”  He said unevenly, and by the way he spoke, you knew it was hard for him to say.

You nodded, even though you weren’t looking at his face.  “I know.”  You murmured and sighed lightly in a poor attempt to hide your disappointment.  

But you didn’t stop dancing.  Time passed, and so did the songs, but you and Spencer kept dancing in silence.  It was a heavy silence.  Not necessarily awkward, but heavy.  

After some time, Spencer spoke once more.  “I don’t want it to stop me.”  He muttered and stopped swaying.  You did too, and removed yourself from him and stepped back.  It was close to one in the morning now, and you were still not tired in the least. You stared at Spencer with pathetic eyes, and he looked at you with a fire in his that were foreign.  

You bit your lip and glanced away from Spencer, crossing your arms over your chest.  “We could keep it a secret.  If we tried to be together.”  You reasoned with Spencer. 

As you said this, he pressed his lips together.  “I want to try.”  He said finally.

With a small smile growing on your lips, you challenged him.  “So, try.”  

Spencer smiled as well and chuckled.  “When we get back to Quantico, would you do me the honor of allowing me to take you to dinner?”  Spencer asked you so formally that you began to laugh as well.  

“Why, I would love that.”  You replied with a wide smile and leaned back against Spencer’s desk, simply looking at him.  As you did this, you came to realize that it was no wonder why he was your ideal man.

[patricianandclerk]

trash pile

fic snippet i’m not continuing or putting on ao3 because it’s not really salvageable as something publishable, but it’s book aziraphale and crowley meeting tv aziraphale and crowley and gabriel

will probably come back to this concept, but it needs heavy refinement, and at the moment is just bad crack, but i know some people wanted to see more of it, so. 

Aziraphale woke from a short nap to a godawful clattering downstairs, and he jumped up from the comfortable sofa he’d been settled on, reaching up to rub guiltily at his eyes. Sleeping, really, was one of Crowley’s things, and yet it was something he’d been experimenting with, as of late – now that the Apocalypse was done with (at least, for now) he wanted to try… to try new things, and Crowley…

Crowley suggested them.

And they—

He liked the idea of it, anyway. Doing something that Crowley did. Doing it together was out of the question (sleeping together!) but—

There was a loud thump, and the sound of a great many books coming down from their shelves, and a loud, sharp noise of pain.

A break-in?

It wasn’t yet seven in the morning, who…?

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called down the stairs, and he felt the tell-tale shift of magic on the air. Aziraphale hadn’t done any big miracles since everything had happened, but this one felt big… “Crowley?”

“Is that alright, my dear? Do show me.” It was a fussy voice. Somewhat deeper than Azirahale’s own, imbued with a neat richesse, and yet ostentatious, as his own was.

“Well, it was broken, it’s not broken now,” came the reply, and that voice, that was nothing like any voices Aziraphale made a habit of knowing – it was light and sonorous, seductive without even having to think about it, and yet he felt he could hear the barely suppressed edge of a lisp in it. “Why, doesn’t it look normal?”

“Well, I don’t know, Crowley, I don’t make a habit of observing the angles of your elbows—”

“Why ever not, angel?”

“Excuse me,” Aziraphale said, walking briskly into the shop proper, and the two of them turned to look at him.

One of them was short, only a little past 5’ and 6”, and he was a well-built gentleman in his late fifties, his body plump and round, his cheeks full and imbued with a natural rosiness. His hair, lank and blond, although threatening to turn white at any moment, was tied in a loose, messy bun at the back of his head, and he wore rather nice clothes – a bit modern for Aziraphale’s tastes, but a patterned shirt of some blue silk, and a rather snazzy little cardigan overtop, in cream.

The other was tall and lithe, or— Well, he had the sort of body one might describe – were one rather tended to being rather bold – as libidinous. Even beneath the tight jeans and the obscene t-shirt (“Know Your Enemy”, with a picture of a policeman underneath), his body rippled with muscle, and he wore sunglasses, even inside. He was younger than his companion, looked to be in his late twenties, early thirties, and he had black hair combed in a neat quiff from his head.

“Oh, what have you done?” asked the tall one, directing the question to his companion.

“What have I— What do you mean? What have you done?”

“Well, I haven’t done anything, but obviously you’ve—”

“You dastardly thing, I didn’t—”

“Excuse me,” Aziraphale said sharply, feeling his fists clench tightly at his side, and feeling a hot flush redden his cheeks as they both looked at him. “You’re— The two of you are really being quite rude. I should like for you to explain your business here, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Did Adam do this?” asked the tall one.

“Do what?” asked the short one.

“Well, he—” Aziraphale stared, astonished, as his tongue slithered from his mouth, tasting the air. It was… forked. “He tastes like you, angel. And forgive me for saying so, but this shop is a bit too nice to be yours.”

The short one bit his lip. “Yes,” he murmured. “It is rather, isn’t it? My dear boy, are you the, ah, the proprietor?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said sharply. “Although I am hardly your dear b—”

“Tiresome, isn’t he?” said the short one. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so wet.”

“Be nice, angel,” murmured the tall one, and took a step forward. “Aziraphale, Principality, Angel of the Eastern Gate?”

Aziraphale’s breath caught on his tongue, and he looked at the tall man. At his sunglasses. The sunglasses were lowered, and he looked at the eyes behind them – not like Crowley’s, a handsome yellow, but a sort of burnished orange-gold, and yet just as snakeish. He looked to the plump fellow…

“Some sort of… cosmic mix-up,” Aziraphale said breathlessly.

“My name is Anthony Crowley,” said the tall one. “And this is Aziraphale.”

“Something’s gone wrong,” said Aziraphale.

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed. “Yes, I— I rather see that. Cup of tea?”

“Please.”

--

“He’s been experimenting again,” Anthony muttered, drumming his fingers against the side of his mug. They’d agreed on the naming conventions, although it had been odd, how— How readily they’d agreed to it, to be called Ezra and Anthony. They were used to it, they said, but, but why would they be used to it?

Aziraphale had made them tea. Ezra was sipping at a cup of tea with two sugars and a dash of milk; Anthony’s was black, and he drank it by letting his tongue slip out of his mouth and dip into the surface of the tea. It was… rather hypnotising, truth be told.

The whole thing was hypnotising. Ezra had sat down on Aziraphale’s sofa, and Anthony had just settled into his lap! Just… just sat there! As if it was a usual seat! Ezra hadn’t even flinched!

“Adam?” Ezra asked.

“Your Adam Young, I take it?” Aziraphale asked, looking between the two of them. He’d left a message at Crowley’s, although the demon had yet to answer it. “But— Our Adam, he made it so that, you know, he didn’t have any powers. After it was all through, I mean. Sweet boy.”

“Sweet?” Anthony repeated. “Nothing like ours then.”

“He can be sweet,” Ezra murmured, with a rather fond smile on his face. “But— No, it must be. Dear me. You’ve had your Apocalypse, then? How long since?”

“Er, well, last year,” Aziraphale said.

“Last year?” Ezra repeated. “Well, my dear, what year is it?”

“2019.”

“20—” Ezra pressed his lips together. “Hm. That is odd.”

“Timelines,” Anthony muttered. “Universes, blah blah. Do we call your end or my end?”

“Well, your end will be useless,” Ezra said.

“So will yours.”

“Yes, but mine will have records.”

“Pshaw.”

Aziraphale felt rather out of his depth, and he turned his head, relaxing when he saw Crowley at the door, dragging it open.

The relaxation faltered when he saw the archangel following him.

--

Anthony – who we might label the foreign Crowley, although he felt less like an invader and more like an unwilling tourist – watched the sad parody of himself that… Well, could one call it walking? If you were being charitable, he supposed, but he wasn’t feeling all that charitable, watching that strange gyration of hips, as if he’d never gotten the hang of piloting a human body.

“Got a loiterer outside, angel,” he said. No lisp, Anthony noted, with a mild hint of bitterness, but— It was a weird voice. Posh, not all that different from Aziraphale’s, really – the sort of voice that sounded as if it came from a mouth stuffed with pound coins.

Twat, came the automatic response.

“Who’s this chap?” asked Ezra, looking at the man in question. This guy was…

Honestly, it was anybody’s guess. He was tall, handsome, in a lilac suit, lilac eyes… Absolute stench of angel on him, but Anthony had never seen a guy like this—

“You don’t know Gabriel?” Aziraphale asked, and Ezra and Anthony both choked on their tea.

“Gab— This is your Gabriel?” Anthony asked, and then started laughing. “Look, angel, he’s pretty!”

“Oh, do be quiet, you serpent,” Ezra muttered, and he patted Anthony’s knee, gesturing for him to lean away so that he could stand. “Now— Gabriel.”

“We had a surge in the accounts,” Gabriel said. And he was… American. Fascinating. “A lotta concentrated miracle energy right here, and given that these two are kinda in bad books right now…”

“Well,” Ezra said, clasping his hands together, and artfully ignoring the way that the big, American Gabriel was examining him, “it seems there’s been rather a mix-up, just a little snip on the timelines, you know. We’ll just need a little assistance to—”

“You’re big, huh?” Gabriel asked.

Anthony put his knuckle against his mouth, and he watched the way Ezra’s face went from “polite asking for a favour” to “oh, you want to buy a book? icy coldness”.

“Dear boy,” he said softly, in a dangerous tone that Gabriel apparently wasn’t cognizant of, “I do beg your pardon.”

“Well,” Gabriel said, with a bright, handsome smile, “just that I was kinda saying to Aziraphale, you know, he needs to cool it with the whole eating thing, but he’s not actually— You know, he’s a little chubby, but you—”

Anthony closed his eyes, wincing, and he listened to the sharp slap. He heard the archangel let out a noise of pain; he heard Aziraphale and Crowley gasp.

“You hit me—”

“Sit down, you odious little excuse for an angel,” Ezra growled, and Crowley felt the sofa beside him shift, depressing under the weight of cowed archangel. He risked opening an eye. Gabriel was looking up at Ezra with shocked awe on his face, his fingers lingering on the regrettably red shadow on one cheek. “Have you any cognizance of basic manners?”

“No,” Gabriel said blankly.

“No, indeed,” Ezra said, his hands on his hip. “You say another word about my appearance, my weight included, young man, and I shall give you a lesson you shan’t soon forget. How dare you? Do you speak to him like that? And I’m sure he lets you, wet thing as he is, well, I won’t stand for it. Are we understood, Gabriel?”

“Not really,” Gabriel said.

“Just say yesss,” Anthony muttered.