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tonyspank · 9 months

Text

DO NOT INHALE

Warnings: spells, fluff, soft wednesday (anymore?? idk tell me)

Summary: That wasn’t meant for Wednesday.

A/N: This was based off a request in my inbox. Non, I hope you enjoy! Also, why is writing dialogue for Wednesday so hard? Lmao

Wednesday Addams x GN!Reader

Being a magic user was fun, even if you didn't know much about it. You could make things move with a wave of your hand, or create a barrier to block incoming attacks. But with great power came great responsibility - it was up to you to use your magic responsibly and for good. That good including helping your girlfriend's best friend with her obvious crush on Ajax.

You were determined to help her, even if it meant you had to use your magic to do it. You knew it was a risk, but the reward would be worth it. "So, how do I use this?" Enid asks as you hand her the glass bottle.

"Just throw it on the ground of his dorm room. Only one person should be present in the room when you do. Then, stand back and wait for the magic to take effect." Enid takes the bottle and nods. "So when he inhales this...air? He'll—"

"He'll express his true thoughts to you," You say, cutting her off. Enid smiles before engulfing you into a tight hug. Enid pulls away and looks at you with a sparkle in her eyes.

You then say, "It'll be like he can't help himself. You'll find out what he really thinks about you." She grins and nods, then takes a step back. "Thank you so much, Y/N!" Enid tries to pull you into another hug but you stop her. "That's enough hugs for today."

She laughs, taking a step back. "You and Wednesday are so alike." You give her a smirk and take a step back. "I'll see you later." You turn and walk away, Enid places down the bottle on Wednesday's nightstand before following you out of her dorm.

Wednesday walks into her dorm, Thing jumps from her shoulder, and makes his way onto her desk. Wednesday begins to unpack her belongings, her eyes snaping to the sound of glass breaking. Wednesday looks around to find Thing had knocked over a glass bottle, shards of glass spread across the ground.

Thing begins to tap his fingers onto the desk, apologizing to Wednesday. Wednesday's blank face barley softens, "Relax." Is all she says before she kneels down and kneels over the glass, picking up the shards and throwing them away.

When Enid arrives back to the dorm, her eyes widen at the fact the bottle is gone. Her gothroommate greets her as she continues to typing on her typewriter. Enid stares at her in disbelief, "Uh...Wednesday? What happened to the bottle on your desk?"

Wednesday stops typing and looks at her, "Thing broke it, so I threw it away." She goes back to typing, oblivious to Enid's shocked expression. Enid stands there, stunned. She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. "I'm so screwed," she mumbles before walking away.

It's now morning time, you're outside of Wednesday's and Enid's door, only to be knocked aside by Enid rushing out. "Hi, Y/N. Bye, Y/N." She says quickly, rushing down the hallway. You were taken aback by Enid's suddenness, watching the girl as your eyes squinted in curiosity.

Wednesday had been standing in the doorway, watching the exchange with a smirk. "That's not anything new with Enid." She says, staring at you, a small smirk apparent on her upper lip.

"Seems like you're in a good mood, Cara Mia." You softly say to the dark-haired girl in front of you. Wednesday's smirk broadened as she stepped closer to you and let out a laugh at her reply. "And it seems like you hit your head this morning, Amore mio." she said, her voice low and melodic. She then leaned close and placed a kiss on your cheek, close to your lips.

You felt your heart leap and your cheeks heat up. You were too stunned to say a word, so you just stood there, looking into her eyes. She smirked again, her eyes twinkling with mischief, before she stepped back and walked away. You were left standing there, feeling a mixture of confusion and excitement. Wednesday was never one to initiate contact, normally you were the one greeting her with a kiss.

You watched her leave, still in shock. You weren't sure what to make of the situation, but you couldn't deny the thrill of it all. She had always been a mystery, and you couldn't help but wonder what this meant for the two of you. You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You followed after the girl, staring her at her for a few moments before staring at the path ahead of the two of you.

When you arrived at class, Wednesday walked straight past her normal seat next to Xavier and she followed you. Xavier watched her go, a look of confusion on his face. As Wednesday took Enid's face, you furrowed your eyebrows.

Wednesday settled into her seat, her eyes never leaving yours. You could feel Xavier's gaze on the both of you, but you didn't look at him. Instead, you let the tension linger in the air. "Mi amor..." You begin whispering, "Enid's going to be upset if she has to sit next to Xavier."

"Let her be upset. I would rather be next to you." You give a small smile, feeling the warmth of Wednesday's hand on yours. Xavier stares daggers at both of you, but you don't break eye contact with Wednesday. Soon Enid walks into the classroom, noticing Wednesday sitting next to you, the only open seat being beside Xavier.

She closes her eyes for a moment before sitting down with Xavier. He opens his mouth to speak but Enid interrupts him, "Please don't make this anymore painful than it has to be." Xavier sighs and closes his mouth, sparing another glance at you and Wednesday.

You were very confused. Wednesday's hand was interlaced with yours while she rested her head on the other, staring at you, and taking in every single feature of your face.

"You look good today. Your appearance, though not conventionally charming, possesses a certain allure that is undeniably captivating." You felt your cheeks flush, and you couldn't look away. You felt yourself becoming more aware of her presence, and you felt an indescribable sensation pass through your body.

"Thank you, Cara Mia. You always know how to flatter me." She smirked and slowly moved closer. Her eyes pierced into yours, and you felt a rush of energy fill your body. "Flattery is an art, and I've always believed in being honest, even when it comes to praising appearances. Your unconventional features, framed by the veil of mystery you wear, hold a fascination that's difficult to ignore. It's refreshing to encounter someone who embraces their own peculiarities."

"Hm...?" You hummed out a bit. You felt the heat of her gaze as you looked back, mesmerized. She leaned closer until her lips were only inches away from yours and whispered, "Do you understand now?"

You nodded slowly, your heart racing. She leans back, focusing her attention on the front of the classroom. A small smirk curled at the corner of her lips while you were left in a daze, feeling the warmth of her presence even after she had turned away.

"Enid." You mumble to yourself.

After class was over, Wednesday wrapped an arm around yours. You looked up at Wednesday with wide eyes. She looked back at you, her black eyes twinkling. You felt the warmth of her arm around yours and the two of you walked away together. It felt nice to know this was apart of Wednesday's true feelings for you. But you didn't want to find this out by a stupid spell you had casted to help Enid.

You had to find a way to break the spell and make Wednesday's feelings go away, even if you truly wanted to enjoy this moment and savor the feeling of being cared for. "Enid." You sternly call out.

She pauses her movements, standing still in the hallway, before turning around and rushing to you. "I am so sorry! It was an accident." She rushes out. You roll your eyes in response. "Wednesday, I would like to talk to your roommate... alone."

Wednesday looks up at you, "I'd prefer to stay close to you." You raise an eyebrow at the girl, staring her down. "Wednesday," you say firmly, "I can handle this. I need to speak with your roommate alone." Wednesday reluctantly nods and backs away, her eyes still on you.

You take a deep breath and turn to her roommate. "How?" You ask, staring into Enid's eyes. The girl lets out a loud breath, "She told me Thing knocked it over!" You take another deep breath and try to process the information. You look around the hallway, people making their way to their next class.

"You will never get another love spell from me again, Enid." You take a step back and turn away from her. Enid stares after you, her eyes wide and her mouth open. You don't look back as you walk away, determined to break this love spell on Wednesday.

You hear Enid call out to you, but you ignore her. You grab Wednesday's hand and drag her to the library. "Well, this is an unexpected detour, isn't it? A secluded room, away from prying eyes and mundane distractions. I must admit, your choice of location is... intriguing." Wednesday says, taking a step forward.

You ignore the girl, browsing through the shelves of the library. You stop when you reach the spell book you needed, flipping through the pages before you find the spell you were looking for. Wednesday watches you, a very small furrow in her eyebrows. You twirl your finger around a bit, a green aura trailing from it before you flick it at Wednesday.

Wednesday gasps as the spell takes effect, her eyes widening in surprise. Wednesday looks around, blinking completely oblivious to the spell she has been under for the past couple of hours. Suddenly, she remembers the events of the past few hours and looks around in confusion. She can't believe she had been under a spell all that time. She shakes her head, trying to make sense of what happened.

She then narrows her eyes at you, a mix of suspicion and annoyance evident in her gaze. "What have you done, and more importantly, why? Is this some twisted attempt to manipulate my feelings?" You take a deep breath, "You know I'd never do that, Cara Mia...that spell wasn't meant for you."

She stares at you for a moment before the tension in her shoulders lessens. "Then who?" You place the spell book on a nearby table, stepping closer to Wednesday. "Enid. I wanted to help her with Ajax, but it seems Thing knocked over the bottle that contained the spell."

She looks away, her expression unreadable. You reach out, placing a hand on her cheek. "I must admit that I enjoyed you under that spell." Wednesday's gaze snaps to yours, her eyes widening. Her eyes glance at your lips and then back at your eyes. "Why does it feel as if I'm still under your spell?" You smile and brush your thumb across her cheek.

"Perhaps it's not a spell, Wednesday. Perhaps it's something more, something real. And as unconventional as it may be, I find myself entangled in the very same enchantment." You admit, your voice gentle and sincere as you gaze into her dark eyes.

A small, genuine smile tugs at her lips. "Enchantment, you say? Well, I suppose even a creature of the shadows like myself can succumb to the allure of something as perplexing as love."

You let out a small laugh, "Love has a way of finding its way into even the darkest corners of our souls. And I, for one, am grateful to have found it with you, Wednesday." Wednesday finds herself leaning in, her eyes trained on your lips.

You close the gap between you, your lips melding together in a gentle kiss. You feel Wednesday's love wash over you as you deepen the kiss, and you are filled with a warmth that you never thought possible. You slowly pull away, your eyes locked on hers and your hearts beating in unison.

A love potion was not needed, you thought to yourself. You had both found love in each other without any help. Even if Wednesday didn't show her love for you publicly, you knew deep down, you could feel it. She was your person and you were hers. Nothing would ever change that.

#wattpad #tonyspank #reader insert #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x gender neutral reader #wednsday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x y/n

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 10 months

Text

Princess

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting will be blocked.

Length: 8.5K

Notes: Well we all knew I'd wind up here, didn't we.

No beta, we die like Billy Kimber

Warnings: Enemies to lovers; Reader is physically assaulted (it's described, but not shown as its own scene); canon-typical violence; one POV change, but it's very clear (imo); explicit sexual content—public sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, rough sex

Summary: You can’t get the image of Tommy out of your head, of his pale, bare skin, the sunlike rays of his tattoo on his chest. You can feel the judging glances of the men around you, hear the whispers from John, and Arthur’s knowing call of, “Oy oy,” As Tommy comes in for the day not an hour later. He brushes past you as though you're not there, and you carry on with your work as if the temperature in the room hasn’t seemed to drop ten degrees.

“I never pegged you for the type.”

Polly’s expression is nearly flat, save for a knowing, raised brow. You don’t need to ask her what she means. You don’t need to clock the glance that she throws between you and her nephew’s retreating back. You just shift in your seat a little, hands lowering to your typewriter and eyeing the stack of work waiting for you.

“Sorry to disappoint,” You offer before you begin hammering away at the keys. Polly just gives a soft, sharp hum. You expect the click of her heels to shift and fade, but she leans down, resting a hand on the desk beside you.

“He’s going to hurt you if you’re not careful,” She warns.

“He’s certainly welcome to try.”

“How many times has this happened?”

“I’m not exactly sure what concern that is of yours.”

“Will it happen again?”

“I’m not sure that’s your concern, either.”

Polly pushes out a condescending laugh, the sound washing over you with the scents of tea and cigarette smoke.

“You’re playing with fire, child.”

Her hand drops out of view as she finally straightens and draws away. Your hands work mechanically, honing in on your work. You don’t let your mind stray to the slight prickle of sweat on the back of your neck, the lingering feeling of Tommy’s fingertips yanking and grasping and pulling at your clothes, the throbbing, slick ache between your thighs.

It’s a one-time thing, you’re certain of it. It had been the wrong place, at the wrong time. High heat, hot anger, the sticky-topped table of the pub that you’d gone to for lunch.

“You ought to be at the Garrison.”

It was the most he’d announced himself as he’d plopped himself down across from you without being invited. He’d taken a sip of your pint, lit up a cigarette, and waited for your explanation—which you didn’t owe him. You’d told him as much.

The conversation had taken a fast and sharp turn from there. It wasn’t long before Tommy ordered that the pub was emptied, before he was shoving your skirt up and pushing your underthings down with a force that had left a noticeable run in your best pair of stockings.

You draw in a deep breath, shaking your head to rid yourself of the memory, the rumbling roll of his voice in your head. You push back the phantom sensations of spilled beer and scattered dishware beneath your back, of Tommy’s breath panting hot against your cheek.

The pub had been fairly full before Tommy had told them all to get out. Its walls and windows were thick enough to mask the slapping of your skin, but you hadn’t been able to silence your whines, or yelps, or moans. When you’d left slightly disheveled, you were certain that the other patrons would’ve had little doubt of what you’d been doing.

It’s no wonder it’s gotten back to Polly so quickly.

Still, it happened. It’s over, and it’s never going to happen again. You can move on.

–

“Look at me, princess. Show me those pretty eyes.”

You force yourself to relax your face just enough to peer up at Tommy. He tuts softly, smoothing his hand along your jaw, eyeing where your lips are wrapped around his cock, and the way tears from your rough gagging and coughing cling to your lashes. Tommy’s lips curl into a cruel little smile as he gives your cheek a pat, tracing the outline of his cockhead with his finger before he rests his hand on the back of your neck, shoving you down. You can’t help but gag, spit slipping from the sides of your mouth as your fingers tighten on the fabric of his pants. He leans back against his pillows, thighs splaying as he sweeps his gaze over your face. You lift your chin, swiping your tongue along the underside of his cock.

He hisses softly before he urges, “Up, get up.”

You lean back, hand still working over his spit-slick shaft. He reaches down, curling his fingers around your jaw before sweeping his tongue across your lips. Your groan is knocked loose as Tommy springs forward, shoving you back onto the bed before grasping your hip and rolling you onto your hands and knees.

It’ll be better, you’re certain—faster. You have as little time now as you did before, and it’s no wonder. You’d been on your way to work when you’d gotten…Sidetracked.

Tommy’s arm hooks around your shoulders as he pushes your underwear aside. You get no other warning before Tommy presses into you. You whimper, fingers curling in the sheets and letting your head hang heavy as your eyes slip shut. Tommy’s hips shove tightly to yours, holding still for just a moment, one long, harrowing moment. You’re just on the second from complaining when Tommy draws his cock out, then gives his hips a harsh snap. You bite your lip, trying to quiet your whines and moans. Tommy doesn’t tease or belabor it. Hell, he helps you quiet yourself as he rests his palm on the back of your head, shoving your face into the mattress.

You can’t help your smile, even as some part of you wants to roll onto your back give his face a shove in turn. Tommy pushes his face into your neck, sucking a light kiss there—enough to feel, but not nearly enough to mark. He smooths his fingers between your thighs, teasing at where his cock stretches you wide as his palm brushes against your clit. You reach back, grasping at his hip and urging him on. Your body quivers as he rolls his wrist with every thrust. It’s just enough to tip you over, to make your cunt tighten up around him. He’s not far behind, pressing his groan into your skin as his hips stutter and slam.

He sags over you, resting his head between your shoulder blades.

“Alright,” You tip your head up from the sheets, swiping your tongue against your dry lips, “Get off of me.”

He huffs a laugh, sliding out and off of you and giving your hip a whack. You roll onto your back for a moment, peering up at the ceiling. You’re not going to stick around, you just need a moment. You hear the slide of Tommy’s match against its book before you smell cigarette smoke. You draw in a deep breath, shaking your head when he holds out his cigarette case. You push yourself up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and scooching to the edge.

“Where are you going?”

“That’s a pretty stupid question, don’t you think?” You stand, straightening your underthings and reaching for your skirt where it was thrown.

“Pay you double for the day if you stay here.”

“Fuck you.”

“Was that a yes or a no?”

You roll your eyes, tucking your shirt into your skirt and straightening it. Your bag is in the sitting room, your jacket is around…Somewhere.

“Lie back down,” He urges.

“I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Where you’re going, I’m in charge.”

“You think I’m afraid of you?” You ask, turning to look at him. It’s a mistake. Laid bare, a sheet thrown over his lap, cigarette in hand, with his luminous eyes fixed on you, Tommy looks like some fallen angel from an old painting. You want him again already. It's a dangerous realization, one that makes your stomach curdle.

“I’m more afraid of Polly,” You add, plucking your jacket off of the floor and dusting it off. “She’ll have my head if I’m late.”

“What are you doing after work?”

“Something else.”

“Than what?”

You button your jacket, turning away from him and heading for his front room.

“Than whatever you were about to suggest.”

Polly’s disappointment is as heavy as it was that first time. She’s already lingering by your desk when you arrive, and she watches you with those pursed lips, that arched brow. You just clear your throat and shrug your jacket off before settling in.

“Well?” She asks.

“I’m on time, Polly.”

“Considering when you left your flat, you should’ve been here nearly half an hour ago.”

You curl your nails into your palms as you turn your stunned indignation up at her.

“You’re having me watched now?”

“We keep an eye on all of our employees. There have been a lot more incidents lately, people going after the Peaky Blinders,” She reminds you.

“I’m not in the family.”

“You work for us and people know that. You have information. It puts a target on your back.”

“Maybe you ought to just chain me to the radiator here between my shifts, then, keep me out of trouble.”

“You’d bay at the moon and piss off the neighbors. Besides,” She straightens, “Thomas likes a moving target.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, shaking your head and refusing to watch her go. Polly can be a hell of a know-it-all, but as much as you hate to admit it, she’s right about this, at least. You can’t get the image of Tommy out of your head, of his pale, bare skin, the sunlike rays of his tattoo on his chest. You can feel the judging glances of the men around you, hear the whispers from John, and Arthur’s knowing call of, “Oy oy,” As Tommy comes in for the day not an hour later. He brushes past you as though you're not there, and you carry on with your work as if the temperature in the room hasn’t seemed to drop ten degrees.

“You said you wanted to talk about something.” Tommy mumbles it against your shoulder as his hand sweeps across your belly. You draw in a deep breath, eyelids heavy with fatigue as you cuddle back into his chest. It's the closest you've gotten to this being normal, though Tommy had still taken a harsher line with you than other lovers had. He'd practically had you against the door, and had only moved the two of you to the bed when your knees had buckled.

You hadn't gone there with the intention of this happening twice in one day, truly you hadn't. It had sort of just...Happened.

“Hmm?”

“You said,” Tommy lifts his chin, “When you turned up at my door,” He presses a kiss to your jaw, “That you had something you needed to discuss.”

“I did, didn’t I.”

“You see? I do listen when you speak, princess.”

You smile a little.

“Not well enough.”

“Now why do you say that?”

“If you were a better listener, I would’ve been able to state my purpose and then be on my way.”

“‘M listening now.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” You glance down, sliding your finger over the back of Tommy’s hand. “...You know Polly’s having me followed?”

“It's not just you, and it's not just Polly. It’s a precaution.”

“It’s unnecessary.”

“What do you want?”

You roll onto your back, looking up at him. “I want you to call off the dogs. I’m not a target. I’m not a threat. I don’t know anything, I wouldn’t be helpful to anyone that’s after you.”

“They don’t know that.”

“They’d be idiots to think I could be helpful.”

“They are idiots. That’s why they’re our enemies. If they were smart, they’d join up.”

“Join up?” Your brows raise. “It’s not the army, Tommy.”

“No,” He shakes his head. “It’s the Peaky Blinders.” He raises his hand, sweeping his fingers across your forehead as he seems to consider what you've said. “I’ll talk to them about backing off the patrols.”

“Thank you.”

“Was that all?”

“...Yes.”

Tommy dips his head, lips brushing across yours.

“Are you rushing out again?” He murmurs.

“Yes.”

“Go on then.” Tommy slips his tongue between your lips before you can move or speak. You raise a hand cupping his cheek and sighing softly.

“I am,” You swear as the kiss breaks, as Tommy’s lips slip down to trail the line of your neck.

“Mm,” Tommy hums, smoothing his handover your belly to swipe at your plump, slick cunt. “You know where the door is, princess.”

You start to notice it more and more. You’re not sure if it’s because they’re more overt, or Polly’s warning has made you more conscious of it, but you start to note the usual suspects around your flat. It’s always the same one or two eyeing you as you leave your front door, drawing out their pocket watches and checking the time. Sometimes they send a boy running, surely reporting to Polly what time you’ve left. Other times, they climb into a car, or into a cart and are drawn away without offering you a ride (which, in your opinion, is fairly poor form). But after a few days, you can tell that Tommy's spoken to them, because they cease to appear.

The problem is, it’s not just men that you know from the Peaky Blinders that you see around. There are some that you see ducking away and glancing back warily, men in dark coats with a patch that you can’t quite make out on their arms.

You see the same men around the offices, too, but you figure that the Peaky Blinders are already aware. They must know—they have eyes and ears all over the city. If there was something to be done about whoever those men are, they’d surely have done it by now.

Still, you consider mentioning it to one of them.

Arthur would just make fun of you, and John would probably make a pass, offer to guard the other side of your bed. You could tell Polly, but you don’t want an I told you so, or a lecture. You could tell Ada, but she may wave your concerns off, remind you that this is plenty normal. Tommy...Well, Tommy would surely take your worry as a chance to set the patrol back on again. So you choose to keep your mouth shut.

How could you know it would prove to be such a costly mistake?

You know that you look a sight.

Any mirth or amusement that Tommy had at the fact you were on his doorstep again, any slick words about your not being able to keep away long, appear to die on his tongue. He reaches out, gripping you by the muddied sleeve and tugging you inside, pausing only to lock the door before towing you into the sitting room, and into better light. You shy away from his gaze, certain that your cheek is swelling, that your cut hand is dripping blood on his floor. Beneath your blouse, you know that there are bruises blooming, and you can’t imagine his face when he finally sees those.

Maybe he won’t see them. Maybe he’ll order you home, send a doctor—

“I tried Pol’s first,” You admit, your wavering, raw voice cracking open the tense silence, “But she wasn’t home. And then the Garrison, but there were so many p-people there.” You wince as your breath catches in your throat, and close your eyes as tears prickle at them.

“Did you go into the Garrison?”

“No. No one saw me…Look, Tommy, I’m sorry I came here, but—”

“Who did this.”

“—I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Princess.”

You open your eyes just a touch and can’t help but flinch when you see him raising his hands. He stills for just a moment before he lifts them to rest of the way, gently cupping your face by the jaw, avoiding the scrapes and swollen skin.

“Look at me.”

You do so grudgingly, afraid that you’ll see pity twisting his handsome features, but you find his gaze heavy on yours.

“We’re going to get you cleaned up,” His eyes search yours, “And you’re going to tell me who the fuck laid a hand on you, so that I can scalp that sorry piece of shit and make them wish that they’d never been born.”

He does briefly still when he sees the bruises on your thighs, side, and stomach, but he doesn’t let it slow him for long. Maybe he’s used to such a sight on his brothers and soldiers; maybe he’s aware of the wariness with which you watch him. He presses a cool wet cloth to your cheek to help with the swelling, cleans the scrapes and cuts. He takes the longest with your hand, but that’s on you, a little. You can’t help your muscle twitching, or the sharp breath of pain that you draw in as he presses your fingers flat over the basin.

“This is going to hurt,” He warns, a bottle of clear booze hovering over your hand. He doesn’t pour until you nod him on, and once he does, he gently shushes and soothes your pained whimpers, even as you try to squirm away from the near-blinding throbbing. The cut is long, but not deep enough that you’ll need stitches.

As he tends to you, he has you tell him what happened, waiting patiently as you hesitate and stumble over your explanation:

“I was just walking home my usual way. There were these men, three of them.” You swallow thickly. “They wouldn’t stop yelling at me, and then they started following me.”

“Did you mouth off to them?”

“No. I was alone, I didn’t want to…” You shake your head. “Thought I could ignore them and they'd leave me alone. A lot of good it did me. They kept up until they had me on the ground, and I pretended to be unconscious.”

“What happened to your hand?”

“The blade was coming at my face. I panicked.”

“You grabbed it?”

“I couldn’t do anything else.”

Tommy hums, nods, asks: “Did you get a good look at them?”

You shake your head, gaze lowering. “I’ve seen them around before, but I’m not sure I could pick them out again unless I was up close…But when I was trying to shove them off, I got this.” You raise your good hand, your non-dominant hand, and hold up a scrap of fabric. The fabric is dark red in the low light, with a sewn on patch—a St. George patch. Tommy takes it from your hand, eyeing it before he murmurs, “Good girl.” He sets it aside then, urging you to lift your hand from the basin and carefully wrapping it with gauze.

“You’ll stay here tonight,” He orders. You just nod. You don’t have it in you to argue, and you know you’ll feel safer at Tommy’s, anyway.

You don’t gripe as you’re taken to the bed and given one of his henleys to sleep in. You don’t even complain about getting into bed alone. You just let the terror drain from your body as you drop off.

“God, the state of her,” Polly tuts, eyeing the girls’ swollen cheek, her gauze-wrapped hand. Tommy says nothing, just waits in the doorway and watches Polly walk deeper inside to get a better look. He draws in a deep drag of his cigarette, his cheeks sinking with it.

“She’ll be alright,” He insists, chest tight with smoke and sentiment. “I want you here when she wakes up.”

“Where will you be?”

“I have to make inquiries.” He fishes into his pocket, drawing out the fabric that she’d passed him as he was fixing her up. “She managed to get this off of one of ‘em.”

Polly frowns, reaching out and taking hold of it. “I’ve seen this before.”

“Nearby?”

“There were a few around before the patrols started. And Esme's seen a few lingering around the Garrison. As soon as they get a whiff of John or Arthur, they clear off."

Tommy sighs, the smoke pushing through his nose as he shakes his head.

“I should never have let her talk me into changing around her patrol,” He mutters.

“You did what.” Polly’s tone goes sharp. Tommy’s glance drifts back to the bed.

“She asked,” He nods to the bed. “Didn't like being kept so close an eye on. I told Scud and Johnny Dogs to ease up.”

He doesn’t flinch when Polly raises her hands, shoving his shoulders harshly as she hisses, “You could’ve gotten her killed.”

Tommy looks to the floor, his jaw tensing as he absently taps the ash from his cigarette.

“It won’t happen again.”

“The next time it does, she’ll be dead—”

“It won’t. Happen. Again,” He insists, meeting Polly’s eye. She narrows her eyes slightly before turning back to the bed.

“Go on, then,” She insists, waving him off. “Handle the bastards. Send the rats scurrying back to whatever hole they crawled out of.”

“You’ll call if you need anything.”

“We’ll be fine. Something tells me I won’t have to deal with much of her lip today.”

Tommy gives a small nod, allowing himself just one more look at her before he leaves.

You’re in and out of consciousness all day. When you’re awake, you’re riddled with pain, until Polly presses the rounded lip of a bottle to your mouth and urges you to drink. Whatever it is tastes bitter, and makes your head spin.

“There you are,” She murmurs, “Take a deep breath, close your eyes…Count back from a hundred….”

When you wake again—when you resurface into consciousness, and it holds—the sky is dark. Your head swims, and you wince as you use your weaker arm to push yourself to sit up. You’ve never really gotten the chance to look at Tommy’s room before. It’s fairly barebones, but not unwelcoming. A few books, a bottle of whisky and a glass, a clean ashtray. You wince a little as your cheek throbs, and you raise your hand curiously, skimming your fingers over the swollen skin. It doesn’t feel hot, like it did yesterday. You jolt a bit as you hear the door open, and you and Tommy go still at the sight of one another. He snaps into action before you do, raising his hand to draw his cigarette out from between his lips.

“Are you hungry?” He asks. You’re certain you should be, but you shake your head.

“No.”

“Thirsty?”

“...A little.”

“Water?”

“Whiskey.”

His brows raise, but he doesn’t ask as he walks over to his bedside table.

“Still hurts, then,” He surmises as he pours two finger’s worth.

“Yes.”

“Your side?”

“A little.”

“Cheek?”

“Yes.”

“Hand?”

“...Yes.”

“Head?”

“...Not as much hurt, but…”

“Fog.”

“Yes.”

"Mm." Tommy lowers himself to sit on the edge of the bed, holding the glass out to you as he says, “That’s from what Polly gave you.”

“What was it?”

“Pento-barbital from Compton’s Chemists. Drink up.”

You take it, drawing in a sip.

“...What time is it?” You ask.

“A little after midnight.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Getting answers.”

“About what?”

Tommy tips his head toward you a touch in mocking disbelief, and you don’t need him to say a thing more. You just nod a little.

“That scrap of cloth you gave me," He says, "The red fabric with the patch.”

“Mhm?”

“Belongs to the Booth boys.”

“Out of Camden?”

“Mhm.”

Your brow furrows. “What are they doing up here?”

“Trying to kick up a fight.”

“So what happens now?”

“We give them what they asked for.”

Your stomach lurches, threatening to unseat your sip. You shake your head, looking down into your glass.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what.”

“Don’t start anything.”

“They started it, not us.”

“I’m not worth going to war over, Tommy.”

“...Look at me, princess.”

When he lifts his hand this time, you don’t jump. He tucks two curled fingers beneath your chin, tipping your head up to look at him.

“I will burn a path from here to where those bastards lay in Camden town if it means you’ll be safe. Do you hear me?” He leans back as it sinks into you, cutting through the muddle and fog in your head.

You nod a little, lowering your gaze to his hand as he rests it on your thigh. You raise your own uninjured one, gently tracing the back of it. What the hell have those hands gotten up to today that you don’t know about, that you haven’t seen? Did he fire a gun? Did he pay off a cop? Punch someone? Strangle a man? And for what? You?

“We’re upping your patrol,” Tommy warns, “And I won’t take any argument about it.”

“Alright.”

Tommy turns his hand over in yours, fingers sweeping gently over the soft of your wrist as you take another sip of your drink. You offer it to Tommy once you have, and he drains it before holding it up.

“Another one?”

“No,” You shake your head. Tommy grunts, making to stand, but stills when you tighten your grip on his hand. “Stay until I fall asleep?”

You expect him to laugh at you, but he draws his cigarette from between his lips and stubs it out. He holds the covers up, waiting for you to shuffle down and into a more comfortable position before he climbs into bed beside you, carefully curling an arm around your middle. You peer up at the ceiling in quiet, watching the shadows that the dying fire casts.

“How’s the pain?”

“...It’s been worse.”

“You want more of Polly’s medicine?” Tommy asks after a moment.

“No.” “You’re certain?”

“Mhm.”

You don’t want the muddle, even if it means the pain swells and cuts through the fog. You just want the memory of Tommy’s arm, and his steady heart and breathing, and his promise to burn the men that hurt you.

–

You get nods from Arthur and John the day you return to work. You offer them in turn on your way to your desk. You go still when you get there, brow furrowing as you spot nothing but papers. You shrug your coat off and throw it over your seat before you stride over Polly.

“Welcome back.”

“Where’s my typewriter?”

“Arguing already. I suppose that bed rest did you some good.”

“Polly.”

“Your hand is still healing. You’ll work sorting slips and counting for the next few days. Come Friday we’ll see how well you can type.”

You sigh softly, before you nod, muttering, “Alright.”

“How does your hand feel, anyway?”

“Sore. Itchy.”

“Itchy is good. Means the skin’s healing.” She holds her hand out, and you raise yours, watching as she unwraps the gauze. She tips your hand to and fro, eyeing the stretching, raised scab. “Looks better than the last time I saw it.”

“It would almost have to.”

“Not necessarily,” She gives a small shake of her head. “You’re lucky the blade wasn’t rusty.”

You give a grudging nod of concession as Polly rewraps the bandage neatly.

“Why didn’t you come to me when this happened?” She asks. “I was closer than Thomas.”

“I did. You weren’t home.”

Polly considers, lips twisting as though she’s just sucked a lemon.

“I must’ve been running an errand.”

“I don’t need an explanation, Polly,” You insist. “You’re not my keeper, and I’m not family. I wouldn’t have expected you to drop everything.”

She nods, gaze flitting to someone over your shoulder before she nods you away.

“Get to your sorting,” She orders. “We don’t pay you to stand around.”

—

That thick envelope that you receive during the following week makes you feel like they have started paying you to stand around. It’s more than you should’ve been given, at any rate. You bite the inside of your cheek, an inordinate amount of irritation welling up as you stride toward Tommy’s office.

It's been almost pleasant between the two of you these last few days, with Tommy dropping in to see how you're healing up. He hasn't touched you, wary of your still-healing body, but the bruises have faded and the cuts are nearly gone. You haven't said a word of complaint about spotting Scud and Johnny Dogs on the other side of the street when you leave your flat, or when you're making your way home.

It's a shame, you think. It's a shame Tommy's chosen to act like an ass when you've been getting on so well. You don’t knock, you just shove open his door, step in, and slam it shut again before holding up the envelope.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

He hardly glances up from his racing papers as you snap at him. He takes his damn time answering, too, turning the page before simply offering:

“Payday.”

“It’s too much.”

“I don’t hear that often.”

“You paid me in full.”

“Per our contract. Don’t like it, you can take it up with the courts.”

“Thomas.” You round the desk, shoving his paper aside. “Fucking look at me.”

His icy gaze flickers toward you boredly, a lagging pillar of ash bobbing at the end of the cigarette perched between his lips. He pointedly smooths the wrinkles that you made in his paper. You hold the envelope up again.

“I wasn’t here enough for this. I missed an entire day off and I couldn’t type again until last Friday.”

“You sorted slips. We pay you for that.”

“And the rest?”

“Injury leave.”

“There’s no such fucking thing.”

“Sure there is.” He plucks his cigarette from between his lips, tapping the ash into a dish on his desk. “Anything else?”

“Yeah.” You yank the envelope open, drawing out half of the bills and slamming them onto his desk. “I’m not fucking taking it.” You whirl away with the intention of storming out, but you hear the scrape of his chair and see the slam of his hand against the wood of the door before you can open it. The others in the office hardly glance up, though you do see Polly’s head tip a touch back toward you before she goes back to her work.

“...Step back from the door,” Tommy orders lowly. You grudgingly let go of the handle, allowing Tommy to steer you away from it and into the chair across from his desk. He steps around to the front of the desk, his arms tucked across his chest as he stares down at you.

“You were paid fairly,” He insists, “For the work that you’ve done in the last week and a half. You turned up every day, you sorted slips, you counted out cash and helped with the books.”

“I’ve slowed down the correspondence.”

“Not by much. In fact, we’ve still been moving at such a clip that I’ve considered firing you.”

Your face falls with irritation, even as Tommy’s brows raise teasingly.

“Thomas.”

He waves you off, unfolding his arms and reaching down to the stack of bills on the desk.

“You did your job, and I’m paying you for it. Alright?”

You hesitate before you nod a touch, taking the proffered cash.

“Don’t make a habit of it,” You warn as you tuck it away again.

“Understood.”

You stand, only making it a few steps away before Tommy’s fingers close around your wrist to still you.

“Will you be home tonight?” He asks.

“Yes.”

“Not heading to the Garrison for a pint on payday?”

“I still have whiskey.”

“Good. Save me some.” He reaches into his pocket, drawing out the keys to his motorcar. “Tell John to drive you home. Storm’s coming in, I don’t want you walking in the rain.”

“I don’t mind it.”

“I do. Take the keys.” When you don’t reach for them, Tommy makes a pointed sigh, stepping around you to open the door. He whistles loudly before barking, “John!”

You wince, muttering, “Christ.”

John arrived a few moments later, chirps, “Yeah, Tommy.”

“Drive her home.” Tommy tosses the keys to John before he gives your wrist a squeeze and nudges you toward John. “Go on. And mind the puddles, or you’ll be the one giving the car a wipe-down. Come right back when you’re done. Family meeting.”

“C’mon,” John nods you over his shoulder, urging you out. You sigh softly, tucking your earnings into your bag and shifting it onto your shoulder. You follow John grumpily, refusing to turn and meet Tommy’s eye as you go.

—-

You almost don’t let him in when he knocks later. When you do, you just open the door and turn away without a word of greeting. Tommy shuts the door behind himself, tucking his cigarette between his lips so that he can comfortably shrug off his coat.

“What was the meeting about?” You ask.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“I tried to get it out of John, but he wouldn’t tell me.”

“Probably because he didn’t know.”

You grunt and pluck up your bottle of whiskey from where it’s been waiting on the table, pouring some for each of you. You pick up yours, taking a drink before Tommy can reach his.

“You’re not gonna make a toast?” He asks as he picks his glass up.

“To what?”

“How about my car? A toast to my car.”

“I don’t give a damn about your car, Thomas.”

“You just haven’t spent enough time in it.”

“This afternoon was more than enough.”

“I disagree.” Tommy sips his whiskey, eyeing you closely before he says, “Tell you what. I’ll take you for a drive tomorrow.”

“...What for?”

“Some air.”

“There’s plenty of air in Birmingham.”

“I’m talking about rarefied country air. Fresh. Clean.” Tommy sets the glass aside. “You spent half of last week in my bed and I couldn’t lay a hand on you. We've a lot to make up for.”

You grimace, looking down into your glass.

“You didn’t want me that way,” You insist. He frowns.

“What d’you mean?”

“Broken.”

Tommy’s expression goes dark. He sets his glass down and reaches out, curling his hands around your hips and drawing you in. Your steps are lagged, and you keep your hands and focus on your drink.

“Those men didn’t break you, princess.”

“Feels like they did.”

Tommy doesn’t answer that. He just gives you a squeeze, pats your hip, and orders, “Drink your whiskey.”

When he doesn’t stay long, or tow you back to your bedroom—when he simply tells you to be dressed in your best and ready to go by four in the afternoon—you’re certain that he was just talking out his ass. Thomas Shelby thinks that you’re as broken as you feel, and you can’t blame him.

The day is a spectacularly pretty one, and it makes you want to curse Thomas Shelby’s name. How is the day so lovely and in his favor? First the man fixes horse races, and now he’s found a way to fix the weather? Aside from a single unexpected visitor, there’s nothing that mars your morning.

You can’t deny the way that your mood brightens as you leave the city behind, driving into the open air with the top of Tommy’s car down. You almost want to close your eyes and tip your head back, savoring the sun and the breeze.

“Where are we going?” You ask after he’s been driving a while.

“You’ll see, princess.”

You sigh softly, glancing around. You take in the tall, waving grass and the rustling of leaves in the trees for silence for a bit before speaking up again:

“Polly came to see me this morning.”

It’s a moment before Tommy replies, and when he does, he seems bored and unaffected.

“Did she.”

“Mhm.”

“She have anything interesting to say?”

“Depends on what you consider interesting, I guess.”

“You clearly do, since you considered it worth mentioning.”

You go quiet again, gaze set through the windshield. She’d demanded tea, issued you a light warning, taken a single sip, and left.

“She told me that what you did wasn’t just for me," You admit. "That if you didn’t retaliate, the Booth boys would take it as open season on the Peaky Blinders.”

“...That’s true enough. Does it upset you?”

“No.”

He sighs softly, turning off of a road and down a short dirt path before he puts the car into park and shuts it down.

“Look,” He twists to face you, resting his hand on the back of the seat. “You know who I am. You know what we do. You know how we protect our own.”

“Yes.”

“If you stay in the car, you’ll hear something you may not like, but something you’ll be able to forget. If you walk past that tree line with me, it’ll change you.”

You consider for a moment, casting a wary eye toward the treeline.

“What’s out there?” You ask, nodding toward it.

“Retribution.”

Nerves twist through your body like a hot knife. Your hands flex around the purse in your lap. When you don’t move or reply, Tommy gets out of the car, walking around to your side and opening the door. He holds his hand out and crisply orders: “Decide.”

Your gaze darts warily between his hand and the trees.

“Is it safe?” You ask.

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I couldn’t guarantee your protection.” Tommy takes a step closer, eyes boring cooly into yours. “Do you trust me?”

You’ve been in bed with this man. You’ve gone to him for satisfaction, for comfort, for safety. You’ve trusted him to take care of you before. Why should it be any different now?

You draw in a deep breath before you reach out, taking hold of Tommy’s hand.

“Leave the bag,” He urges to the bench seat, “No one’ll take it. There's no one around here, really.”

You set the purse aside, letting Tommy lead you from the car. The grass brushes and scratches your legs through your hose. You hear voices as you grow closer, and you slow, but Tommy gives your hand a gentle squeeze, murmuring, “C’mon.” You follow him reluctantly, dragging your feet just a little. You relax as you spot John and Arthur smoking by a tree nearby. They’re both jovial, both smiling wide, even when they spot you.

“There she is,” Arthur reaches out, clapping you roughly on the shoulder. You note his scraped up knuckles as he does, the fresh cuts, the blood.

“Took you long enough,” John grumbles, turning an irritated moue toward Tommy. “Figures you’d miss out on all the hard work.”

“It was hard enough work coming out here today,” Tommy argues, “And it’s not about to get any easier.”

He nods you closer, leading the group of you deeper into the woods. You see the holes, first, and your stomach lurches as you catch sight of something within moving. You go completely still, throat tightening with panic. This time, Tommy lets you stop.

“Tommy,” You breathe.

“Come on.”

“What did you do.”

“Jack all,” John mutters, resting his hand on your lower back as he helps to steer you closer. There are three holes side by side, long, and shallow, each with a bound, blindfolded, squirming man laying in them. Your stomach threatens to heave and unseat your breakfast; your breathing becomes tight, and nervous.

“Thomas.”

He turns on you, letting go of your hand in favor of cupping your cheeks to focus you on him.

“You can still turn back,” He says firmly. “You can turn right around and wait in the car, and we can deal with this. But you need to decide now.”

It’s a way out, a last chance. Glancing between Arthur and John, you find them watching you expectantly. You swallow thickly past the growing lump in your throat, push out the sounds of the men in the ground below you, and keep your gaze fixed on Tommy’s.

“What do you want me to do.”

“Atta girl!” Arthur’s voice thunders as he slaps your arm roughly, as John gives your shoulders an encouraging shake, as Tommy’s lips curl into a wide, proud smile.

–

“It's done now.”

Tommy’s words had just managed to push through the gunshots echoing through your ears, through the feeling of him pulling the weapon from your shaking hands, and the sight of the last man in the ground going completely still from the shots that you fired.

The ride back home had been filled with the raucous chatter of Arthur and John. It was a wonder that they had any energy after digging and filling the graves. You had sat in the front with Tommy, his hand heavy and warm, tucking the fabric of your favorite dress between your thighs. Tommy had declined an invite to grab a drink at the Garrison for both of you, instead driving you home at an almost alarming speed.

He keeps close, now. It’s not like the other night, distance and carefully measured disinterest. He’s right up against you as he waits for you to open the door. He hardly lets either of you get a glass of whiskey finished before he’s nudging you back against the counter of your kitchen. He cups your cheeks, sweeping his thumbs along your cheekbones as his eyes search yours.

“How does it feel?” He murmurs.

“The whiskey?”

He huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head as he presses his chest to yours.

“Being one of us.”

You consider, lowering your gaze to his throat. His hands smooth down the side of your neck; you can see him tipping his head to the side in your periphery.

“Does it scare you?” He presses.

“No.”

“I’m gonna need you to look me in the eye when you say that, princess.”

You tip your chin up, forcing your face into a firm set, the likes of which Tommy hasn’t gotten since you’d snapped at him in his office.

“It doesn’t scare me.”

“Good.”

“It makes me happy.”

“What we did makes you happy?” Tommy presses. “Killing a man makes you happy?”

“Keeping us safe makes me happy,” You snap. Tommy dips his head, brushing his lips gently against yours. It's genle, but it doesn't quiet your worries.

“Tommy.”

“Mm?”

“What if it doesn’t stop?”

He leans away, brow furrowing as he gets a better look at you. You swipe your tongue nervously across your lips, clarifying: “What if the Booths keep coming after us?”

“They won’t.”

“But if they do—”

“I’ll handle it.”

“But if you need help—”

“That’s for the boys an’ me to handle.”

“Then why’d you have me there today?”

“That wasn’t for me, princess. That was for you.”

Your brow furrows, and Tommy tuts softly.

“I told you,” He strokes his knuckles along your previously-swollen cheek. “Retribution. You needed it.”

“And you’ll always do what’s best for me?”

Tommy pushes a soft sigh out through his nose, gripping your chin up and tipping your head toward him.

“I will do what’s best as I see fit.”

“For me?”

“For everyone.”

“For yourself.”

“What d’you want? Mm?” His grip tightens on your jaw. “You want me to fall all over you, swear my undying love and fealty? You want me to tell you that I'll only act with you in mind? You listen to me, and you listen close. You’re never going to get that from me, princess.”

You nod slightly, a lump forming in your throat as you mumble, “I know.”

“Then don’t ask it of me.”

“Then don’t,” You lean into it, your resolve hardening, “Feed me a crock of shit, that you’re going to—burn a path from here to Camden just because someone touched me.”

“The only person in the world that gets to touch you is me. You know I’m never going to hurt you.”

“Polly told me you would.”

“Polly says a lot of things.”

“She always means them.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s always right.”

“You sure about that?”

“Oh, I’d put money on it. I’m a gambling man, princess.”

Tommy’s kiss is biting and swift, and it makes your stomach flutter. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he uses his grasp on your jaw to steer you back against your rickety kitchen table. You let him, grasping his jacket roughly and hauling him closer as you scooch back onto the table, spreading your legs for him to slot between. He lowers his hands, shoving the skirt of your dress up around your thighs. You watch as he grasps your ankle, drawing it up and deftly working off the buckle of your t-strap heel. He takes hold of the next, doing away with it with the same speed, and shifting to avoid the heels when you kick them off.

Tommy grips the neckline of your dress, giving it a harsh yank. You hear the fabric rip, and you mean to gripe, but you can’t get a word out. Tommy ducks his head, sucking harsh kisses to your neck. The ripping doesn’t stop. His biceps bulge with it as he yanks the weakening fabric roughly. It takes such force that he groans in irritation and fatigue, palms red with exertion, finally shoving the ruined garment down around your shoulders. He grins at the sight of your lacy brasserie and garter belt as the fabric drops away.

“You dressed for me, ah?”

“I thought we were going to the country for fun,” You admit, tipping your chin down as Tommy’s hands slip beneath the torn fabric of your dress, sweeping along your back. “I thought you were going to lay me down and fuck me in a field.”

He chuckles against your skin as his teeth scrape against the swell of your breast where it peeks out above the lace.

“Maybe next time,” He murmurs. “It would do you some good.”

“Your cock?”

“Country air,” He nips your skin, “And my cock.”

A giggle bubbles up in your throat, spilling over before you can stop it. You raise your hand, smoothing your fingers through his hair as he undoes your brasserie. The fabric droops, sagging around your shoulders with the ripped dress. Tommy sweeps his tongue over your pebbling nipple. You arch up against his questing lips and tongue, knees twitching around his thighs.

He draws back with a slick slurp, catching your lips as he urges you up and off of the table. You follow him back to your bedroom, wiggling your arms to shake loose the remnants of your dress, and the slipping straps of your bra. You let it fall to the ground and make to step around it, but before you can get far, Tommy hooks his arm around your middle. He presses kisses to your neck and shoulders as you reach back, working at the fastenings of his trousers. He lets go, giving you a shove toward the bed. You twist before you land, your back hitting the mattress before you slide back a bit.

Tommy raises his hands, slowly undoing the buttons on his waistcoat, then his shirt. You watch as he shrugs off the waistcoat, then pushes off his suspenders. Your gaze drifts even lower to where he’s hard in his trousers as he drifts toward you lazily. You raise your hand, stroking your fingers between your breasts. You smile widely as he watches the track of your finger, as you smooth your palm over your garter belt, then slip a finger further down, flicking at the clip holding up your stocking.

To your utter shock, Tommy kneels down in front of you. He curls his fingers around the top of the gauzy fabric, rolling it down. He turns his head, brushing his lips against your calf. He trails his kisses up and up, nipping gently at the meat of your thigh before he reaches up, teasing his fingers under the strap of the other garter.

“Undo it,” He murmurs. You reach down, undoing it. Tommy keeps his eyes on yours, nuzzling your flesh as he rolls the next stocking down.

“You’re being awfully nice,” You frown. He smiles.

“I’ve already ripped enough of your pretty things. May as well not owe you for the stockings as well as the dress.”

“And you will owe me for the dress.”

“I’ll buy you a warehouse full of dresses just for me to tear off of you, princess.”

“Make sure the seams are loose on them, will you? I thought you were going to burst, trying to rip my dress apart in the kitchen—Tommy!” You cackle as Tommy gives your thigh an honest-to-god bite before he springs up over you.

The first time is as frantic, as rushed as all the times before. The second time, Tommy lets you steer, shove him around a little, move him as you like, take what you want. The third is deliciously new. Tommy draws you onto his lap and guides you down onto his cock.

You shudder, nails digging into the pale muscle of his shoulders as you sink down onto him. Your eyes slide shut against the low light of the room, and the enduring brightness of Tommy’s eyes. You can feel him watching you, even as you tip your chin back and lean into him to just feel. Tommy’s hands smooth over your thighs as you shake around him. He presses his face into your neck, and you feel his moan as you draw yourself up before easing back down. You move slowly, your legs already burning with the rounds before. You’re sweaty, and a little boneless, but you still feel so damn needy for him. You slide your hand up over his closely-cropped hair as the two of you begin to move as one. He grunts and murmurs his own pleasure, sliding a hand down to cup your ass and urge you on:

“Just like that, princess.”

Neither of you let up until the other has cum, until Tommy is tipping you back into your mussed sheets to dot your neck with and chest with kisses. You let your thighs splay, blinking up at the dim ceiling as your heartbeat calms, and you settle.

“...Why d’you call me that?” You mumble.

“Call you what?”

“Princess,” You shift your tone to mimic him. He chuckles, nipping your shoulder.

“You used to walk around the office with your nose in the air, like we were all beneath you.”

“I did not!”

“Mm, you did.” Tommy rests his chin on your shoulder. “But it went off the boil quickly enough, once you realized that if you wanted to live, you’d have to get down on the mud with the rest of us.”

“And is that where I am now?” You slide your fingers through his hair. “In the mud?”

“Does this feel like a bed of roses?”

You smile, shrugging. “Could be worse.”

Tommy hums, reaching up and stroking his knuckles along your jaw. He seems to think for a moment before he asks, “Polly said I would hurt you?”

“Mhm.”

“What else did she say?”

“That I was playing with fire.”

“Does this feel like fire?”

“It won’t.”

“Oh no?”

“Not unless you’ve given me the clap. And if you have, Thomas Shelby,” Your smile widens as he laughs, “I’ll chop your cock off.”

“No fear of that.”

“No? Is that a promise?”

“You have my word, princess.”

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#Tommy Shelby x Reader #Tommy Shelby x You #Thomas Shelby x Reader #Thomas Shelby x You #Tommy Shelby/Reader #Tommy Shelby/You #Tommy Shelby fic #Tommy Shelby imagine #youvebeenlivingfictionalgifs

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kseung · 1 year

Text

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Gloxinias

Requested

Warnings: None.

Words: 930~

It's much more loosely based on Jazz Bar than intended, but it's more of a personal note to me. I drew the gloxinia on the photo 🕺

You being such a nerd sometimes led you to know some very useful information. For example; you knew that the largest padlock in the world weighs 916 pounds, something that had particularly interested Wednesday; you knew pigs did not sweat, therefore creating the need for pigs to use mud to cool off; you also knew that Violacea Purple Gloxinia, scientifically Sinningia Speciosa, meant love at first sight, along with enchantment, respect, and admiration.

That was how you'd describe what you felt for Wednesday when you got to know her more. She liked to be mysterious, but there was only so much she can do with such a perceptive partner. You noticed she liked flowers. Well, one flower. The black dahlia.

You made sure to give two flowers every saturday. A black dahlia and another one you picked depending on what you wanted to tell her. Sometimes that you admired her, or cared for her or, maybe even, liked her.

She's not that different from you. You'd say that one of the differences was that she was, by far, more of an edgelord. But that is most of it. For being such a cynical girl, you found out that she's quite sweet.

It'd be your second official date tomorrow, a Saturday. You were happy about it. You knocked on her window, asking for permission to enter. Doors are overrated anyway.

The circle swiveled, opening up an entrance by which Thing waited. He motioned that Wednesday was there, on her typewriter. You nodded and entered behind the oh-so-sweet appendage.

—Buenas noches.

—Hello, mi amor.

You smiled at her nickname. "My love" sounds good, but it's the best when she says it. That way you know she means it. She's not that type of liar.

You had been given a response, so you didn't push it further. You laid down on her bed, thinking about the way youd give her the flowers. You knew you wanted it to be special, whatever special may mean.

—Wednesday.

—...

—Timeframe?

—20 minutes.

—Reasonable.

You wanted to cuddle her. Well, her version of it. It was just laying while holding pinkies. It was sweet. Very sweet of Wednesday.

20 minutes are short when you sleep. Still, you woke up to Wednesday laying down besides you. You turned on your side, looking at her. She returned the favor.

You always found it amazing how her eyes were so expressive, at least to you.

—I feel I love you.

—I like you.

You smiled. She was doing well, especially since she has such aversion to feelings. She held your pinky with hers, making your smile widen. She's such a sweetheart. Little nightmare of yours.

—Do you mind if I stay over tonight?

She just pointed to her closet.

•••••

—Amor, wake up.

Wednesday's voice sounded muffled. It took some minutes before you realized that you were almost smothering while asleep, all because you love holding her. You opened your arms, letting her have the choice. Flight or freeze, in this case.

Or both.

She moved, creating a little distance but still having your arm on her. It was a nice thing to wake up to. Your lovely, lovely, gothic girlfriend.

—Love, I'm up...

You chuckled, looking at her still sleepy. She's the best sight to wake up to. And she could say the same thing.

Usually, she'd already been up. But it was the weekend, she was sleepy, and you were with her. Sleeping late once wouldn't be that bad. She decided to let you sleep for a little longer while she caressed your cheek.

After some mintes, you opened your eyes again.

—I'm hungry. Let's get breakfast.

Finally.

She got up, sitting on her bed before staning up and walking to her closet. You grabbed yesterday's clothes, putting them back on as Wednesday picked her own garments, speedy as to not take long. Your stomach was already complaining.

She said nothing, just looked at you and motioned to the door. You said "yes", and walked up to her. Today was gonna be exciting.

•••••

Breakfast and morning finished, and you returned to her room. Thing made you a favor, having arranged some pillows and two flowers on the balcony. He made you a sign when you entered.

You grabbed her hand, silently dragging her out. The day was pretty cloudy and chilly, very, very beautiful. You sat on one of the pillows, urging Wednesday to follow your steps. She did.

—These are for you.

You gave her both flowers. She gave the littlest of smiles. You celebrated internally. She took them as she always did. She took the Dahlia first, looking at it. By this point, she has a collection of Dahlias you've given her. But the other flower was new.

—Tell me about it.

You did.

—It's a Gloxinia. Sinningia Speciosa, if you will. They mean "love at first sight". This purple one means admiration, among other things. I think it represents what I feel for you quite well, actually.

She looked at you. Feelings made people soft, and she didn't like it, but you always said the same thing to her. "It takes a stronger person to be vulnerable and still function than not to feel." It was admirable, even if she also thought it was stupid at times.

—I appreciate the gesture. Thank you.

You looked at her and smiled. Even if she didn't want to, you knew she loved you every single time she looked at you. She kept the flowers in her hand, carefully handling them so as not to damage them. She may like pain, but not to things you give her.

—Always.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday adams #wednesday #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday imagines #wednesday imagine #fanfic

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ficjoelispunk · 6 months

Text

Ch 06 - Two rabbits. One shot.

Continuation, you can find it here

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Author's Note: like always, I'm sorry for any grammatical errors, don't give up on me, translating is not easy, but I did my best. Correct me as much as you can. Thanks.

You finally had a decent night's sleep. It was even ridiculous the way your body succumbed after the treatment Javier gave you.

Understanding the Javier Peña effect. He was definitely someone remarkable. The body drawn, muscular, the shoulders outlined, biceps and chest. Large and firm hands. The hair. The face. The smell. The kiss. The sex. You would have sexual memories for a long time, which gave you goosebumps and excited you only with the memory, the tone of voice speaking in your ear, the feeling of Javier's cock filling you like no one had ever filled, the sounds he made as he sank into you.

Jesus. The effect he caused was immoral. You understood your victims. The supplications and the search for an extra moment with him.

Now you didn't know how to proceed. How should you act? Pretend that nothing happened, like before? Let it be something that you deal with only between the four walls of the file room? Was it casual? Starting from Javier Peña's history, it was possible that he would never look at you again.

Unfortunately you work with him in the same sector, in the same room, and he needs you. What made you think about how desperate he should be.

But on the other hand, you also remembered the things he told you while you were overwhelmed by desire and horniness. Including the fact that he wanted you from the first day he saw you, according to his words. But that doesn't mean it's romantically, it could just be another achievement. Which you made it difficult for him for 3 long years.

You needed to go to the pharmacy before starting your day, buy a morning-after pill.

You didn't know how to get around in Medellin, but you knew the basics. Market, pharmacy, and the restaurants you liked. It was the essential.

So you parked a few meters before the usual pharmacy you used to go to. You got out of the car, walked to cross the street, when a black car threw itself in front of you out of nowhere.

You stopped, taking a few steps back, watching without understanding. Two armed men got out of the vehicle coming towards you, you began to have a bad feeling and tried to run but they reached you and held you.

"No, no," you said, "let me go, let me go, get way from me" you started screaming.

But you were in Medellin, and of course no one stopped to help you.

The two men lift you off the ground with ease. You were struggling in the air.

"Cálmate” one of them said.

While they put a bag over his head.

"Tranquilo, tranquilo" another repeated.

You were taken by fear when you were already sitting in the back seat of the vehicle in the middle of these two men.

Your Spanish was terrible, and they spoke Castelhano too, so you didn't understand almost anything.

You were desperate. Why were they taking you? Did they want information? You were just the assistant, it didn't make any sense... Tears flowed over his muffled face under the bag.

You were lost, taken by the feeling that from that point on, surviving was your only choice.

***

It was almost 9 a.m. and Javier hadn't seen you yet. What was bizarre, since at 6:30 a.m. you were already hammering your fingers into the typewriters.

Strangely, he was anxious to meet you. And to know how you would behave after last night. But without seeing you there, the nerves of his face began to pull.

Javier is sure that you have never been late for anything in your life.

"Are you at least listening to what I'm talking about?" Murphy questioned Javier realizing that he was out of focus.

"Yes," Javier replied without looking at him.

"What's going on?" Murphy asks his colleague, sitting at his desk in front of Javier.

He doesn't answer at first. Still staring at your table.

Murphy follows Javier's gaze, and understands.

"Maybe she went to some meeting, or went to Bogotá at the last minute. Why are you worried about the person who gives you the most headache?"

Peña looks at his partner. And he gets up walking to your table.

Murphy is going after it.

Incredibly organized. Completely different from his. He gropes some papers on the table, looking for something that even he doesn't know what it is, opens one of the drawers next door, finds your agenda. It's until today's date.

"Are you crazy?" Murphy is next to him now, "Moving her things, without authorization, this should be at least confidential. If she finds out she will make your life hell for a week"

Peña squeezes her lips in a thin line frowning her eyebrow. Still analyzing your schedule notes. He passes one of his hands over his whiskers.

He knows something isn't right. You were with him last night. You wouldn't have time to go to Bogotá. There wouldn't even be a flight. So soon. There was nothing written down in your agenda that indicated the reason for the disappearance.

Where were you?

Javier left your calendar in the drawer, and reached for his phone, calling the Embassy.

"Agent Peña, I need some information"

"What are you doing?" Murphy whispered in shock.

Peña ignored him.

"I need to know if the Ambassador's assistant has any activity scheduled for today at the embassy"

Murphy threw his hands on his face. Shaking his head.

"Okay. Thank you." He put the phone on the hook.

The eyes are now terrified.

"Something happened," Javier murmured, but to himself than to his partner, he ran down to his table, and took the jacket.

Murphy reaches his partner halfway, holding his arm.

"Where are you going? You went crazy, the girl must be somewhere"

Peña looks firmly at where Murphy's hands have found his arm and pulls for himself.

"I'll be back soon" Peña left.

He went to your dorm, and you weren't there. He was confused, he didn't know if you hadn't come back since the early hours of yesterday, or if you were extremely organized. Because your bed was made, and the objects on your bedside table were impeccably distributed at equal distances.

Javier chose the second option. You were extremely methodical.

He went to the parking lot, your car was not there.

Javier walked to the guardhouse, and asked the guard.

"Did you see a Chevrolet 78 coming out of the base?"

"Yes, she left at 7 a.m. and hasn't come back since then"

Peña put his hands on his waist. Fuck. Where had you gone? Why hadn't you come back yet?

"Did she say where she was going?"

"No, sir."

Fuck!

Javier knew. He felt you weren't safe. Just imagining the things that the sicarians or cartels are capable of doing, his hands closed in a fist so strong that he tasted the meat.

He went straight to Colonel Garrillo's office. He explained the situation.

"If you checked her schedule, she may have taken the morning off," Carrillo suggested.

Peña shook his head.

"No, she never takes time off"

Carrillo laughs, shaking his head.

Javier stiffens.

"Peña, Peña, Peña... you never change, is she an informant?"

Javier uncrosses his leg, and leans in the direction of the Colonel, he would not let his fame slip on you because of him. He wouldn't let them doubt your nature and character.

"She's a good woman. She has been living for this job since she got here. She wouldn't leave without coming back in time for work. I know her. I have a bad feeling."

Carrillo raises his eyebrows.

"Let's wait until after lunch, if she doesn't come back, we'll send searches around the city, okay?"

Javier flaps his fingers on the table at the same moment he nods to the colonel, getting up and leaving the room.

Javier runs his fingers under his jaw. While you're sitting smoking a cigarette on your desk.

Wait.

That's what he needed to do. But every time he looked at your table without you, his stomach tied a knot. Waiting was wasting time.

The phone rang, and he didn't even wait to finish the first call.

"Peña" he introduced himself.

"Agent Peña, this is Don Berna"

Peña's breathing stopped. Don Berna was an accomplice of Judy Moncado, one of the small gangs that were part of the Medellin Cartel.

"I have a proposal that may interest you"

"What a surprise" Peña would not leave the opportunity to be petulant.

Don Berna gave an address of a cafeteria for them to meet.

Peña wasn't late.

The cafeteria was simple, there were few people inside. The background music playing, typical Colombian.

Javier saw Don Berna, he had never seen him in person, only by photos, but it was not difficult to identify.

"¿Que passa, Peña? Waiting for someone else?"

"¿No y tu?" Javier was standing next to the table, with his hands on his waist.

"No. It's not necessary, I have friends everywhere" Don Berna stirred the sugar in his cup of coffee.

Javier tried not to sketch the irony on his face. This was a boring conversation just to intrinsically indicate that he might not be with someone there, but that if something happened to him there, they would know that it had been Javier and this would have consequences.

"Pero, siéntate, sit down so you can taste the best coffee in Medellin." Don Berna raises a tone of voice "Ana Luz, make a coffee for my friend."

Javier sits down.

"Do you have anything but coffee to offer me?" Arms crossed in front of the body.

"Look Agent, I'm not just any informant, and I'm not looking for any reward. No."

"So why are we here?" Javier shrugs his shoulders.

Don Berna leans over the table.

"Agent, you and I are like the snake and the cat. If the snake has the opportunity, it will kill the cat. If the cat has a chance, the snake is mary. But sometimes they both see a very big mouse." He hummed the last word. "And sometimes they both want to eat"

Javier was losing his posture. He began to understand where Don Berna was trying to go. He knew this metaphor was about you. He understood that you were with Don Berna, with his henchmen.

"Where is she?"

"Tranquilo"

Javier uncrossed his legs and leaned over the table approaching Don Berna.

"Where. Is. She?"

Don Berna laughed, pleased to know that you meant something to Javier, after all. That would make things easier. And he leaned against the chair.

"She's fine, don't worry"

Javier wanted to punch this mother's narco son in the face, until he said where you were, but he needed to control himself because your life could be at risk.

"What do you want?" Javier asked.

"I need your help, and your help will be beneficial to me and to you too" he paused torturing the Agent "If you help me, I will return your girl, and you will still be able to make a great apprehension."

"What do you need?"

"I need you to invade a laboratory. I'll give you the location, and you just need to invade it."

Peña frowned. He would never question if it would bring you back to him safe and sound. But he needed to explain it to the others.

"How will this help you?"

"The laboratory was mine, but Pablo took it, and if you seize it, he would have been at a loss."

That's all he needed. He didn't even think much. He just did everything he could as soon as possible.

Peña returned to the base at the Academy as fast as he can. And he started suggesting the operation.

"It's here." He pointed to the image taken from the satellite "let's make an inventory later, so we know what was seized"

"How do you know that?" Murphy asked.

"Through an informant" the hoarse tone of voice.

"Let's go," Carrillo encouraged.

And they left. It would be easy for him to come in and rescue you. That's what he had in mind. And when he rescued you, he would explain later if it were the case the connection between the apprehension and you being precisely in this captivity.

Anyway, the men were positioned, about to invade the house, where the laboratory worked.

It was easy to surrender the team that worked there. The only problem was that you weren't there.

Damn. Fuck!

Javier entered all the rooms of the house, in the attic, in the basement, looked outside, everywhere, and you were not there.

He wanted to run out of there, and stay planted in that cafe until he met Don Berna, and made him say where you were.

But he needed to stay there and finish the operation. Javier ran his hands through his hair, sighing with his eyes closed.

"Your informant is a gold mine," Murphy said, while bringing the cigarette.

"Yes, he's good," Peña smiled, observing the apprehensions.

"You don't look happy," Murphy said.

"I am. I am" Javier patted his partner on the back, rose a cigarette, and walked away.

***

Murphy and Peña returned to the base, in an unpleasant atmosphere.

Murphy had gone out for a "walk" with Colonel Carrillo, and one of Pablo Escobar's sicaries, who was arrested in the invasion of the laboratory and we probably already knew where this had gone. Carrillo had a little disturbing methods.

Javier tried to distract himself from the fact that you were not under his eyes, but being held hostage by drug traffickers in God knows where. Praying silently that you were safe. Because he would kill anyone who had touched you.

He was failing you. He knew that just as it had happened to Helena, it could happen to anyone he got involved with. But he did not imagine that the cartel would extrapolate the limit in this way, kidnapping an American government agent.

***

That day passed. You didn't come back. Javier thought that eventually after Don Berna knew that the attack on the laboratory had been successful he would free you. But that didn't happen.

So Javier added the useful to the pleasant. He reported his kidnapping to the embassy.

Carrillo set up a rescue operation for you. Javier told about the possibility of you being with some cartel, in exchange for information.

Carrillo increased the attacks on all of Pablo's bases, killing every sicario who appeared in front. But days went by and they couldn't find you.

Javier didn't sleep. He listened to all the calls from the wiretaps. He answered all the phone calls. He didn't stop working and looking for any clues that led to you.

He couldn't imagine how you were. There was a whole mobilization even in Bogotá so that the searches were more intense. But there was no sign of you.

"We're going to find her," Murphy said when he realized that Javier was lost in thoughts.

Javier just nodded.

It wasn't fair to you. You didn't deserve it. Why didn't they kidnap him? Or anyone else he had been involved with? But you? His heart squeezed with the idea of where you could be. If you was eating. If with your sharp tongue they would respect you and not hit you. If they could stand it, they wouldn't kill you. If you were still alive. If they hadn't done worse, because depending on what might be happening, maybe death would be better.

He closed his eyes shaking his head.

Carrillo was committed to finding you. But he was also committed to taking the opportunity to embezzle Pablo Escobar.

Messina was called to Bogotá for a conversation with Crosby.

"Do the agents have anything to do with it?" Crosby asked.

"Not that I know of" Messina was impassive.

"If Peña and Murphy are right, they are the only ones the asshole trusts," Crosby talked about the colonel.

"I find it difficult for Colonel Carrillo to forget about her. She is pleasant and competent in all areas, and has helped operations a lot, has played a key role"

"It's exactly what he wants, to keep everyone under his wings, with the guarantee that they are friends and partners, so no one will question the means he has been using, but guess what? People are already starting to question how a department can't find a girl from the United States government who has been missing for 7 days"

Messina was silent.

"If Carrillo wants to walk the streets killing every sicario he finds, God bless him. But our agent needs to be back at the base, and I don't want the attacks to be linked to our agents. They can no longer be together in the operations"

***

Edward, the person in charge of Centra Spike, summoned Javier, Murphy and Carrillo to pass on new information.

"Everything was standing still for those days. But there was a phone call three times on the same night, all in the same neighborhood," he finished explaining.

"They don't control themselves," Murphy smiled.

Javier was turned off. He couldn't deal with this situation anymore. There was no concentration with absolutely nothing in the department. Murphy tried to pass on details of the investigations, but he simply dissociated and could not finalize a line of reasoning.

"Are you dating or something?" Murphy questioned.

"I'm not the type to date..."

"You are on the verge of a nervous breakdown without her here under your supervision," Murphy laughed a little.

"Maybe because if we take longer she may be dead..."

"Do you like her"

Javier didn't answer. He needed to find you. Nothing else crossed his mind. Then he dealt with the feelings. If Pablo and you showed up in front of him today, he would choose you a million times.

With their kidnapping, they were forbidden to leave the base. But Javier received a phone call from Gabriela, a woman he met before you had sex that day in the file room. And sometimes later too.

Gabriela called him to go to her house, which she was missing.

"No puedo bebita, estoy trabajando"

But she insisted. And Javier gave in. It wouldn't be a bad idea to get a little distracted.

"Messina also caught your attention for leaving the base?" Murphy questioned.

"Yes"

Javier would pick up his jacket and an envelope on the table in a hurry.

"Where are you going?"

"Get out. From the base"

Murphy rolled his eyes shaking his head.

It was good that Javier gave in to Gabriela's invitation, although he went with other intentions. Gabriela had contact with a girl who would give information about where Pablo would be, and at what time.

The information was right, Centra Spike's eavesdropping pointed to Pablo's conversation over the phone.

Javier just thought about how difficult everything was without you there, and how your work was different. Things that took them hours, you would take minutes. And how he would like you to be there, to participate in this moment. Never before has there been such a hot track that led to Escobar.

In conjunction with this, Peña's extension rang.

It was Don Berna, with the promise that he would give the address if you were.

Things happened very quickly.

Javier ran to Edward passing the address mentioned by Don Berna, so that he would send the plane to fly over and check some clue.

A few hours later, in the midst of the organizations and eavesdropping for Pablo's operation, Edward called Peña to listen to the recording.

"She's fine, live, just... this son of a bitch hasn't been eating for a few days, but she's fine"

"It's her" Javier's chest squeezed.

Javier hit Edward on the back and ran towards Colonel Carrillo's room. They called a meeting.

In the room were Javier, Carrillo, Messina, Murphy and Trujillo.

Javier reviewed Escobar's two recordings and the call that indicated your captivity.

"The points are close we can kill two rabbits in one shot" Javier was anxious.

"We have to leave now," Carrillo said.

"Yes" Javier has already been heading to the door.

"You two are going to stay here," Messina said calmly to Javier and Murphy.

"Are you kidding me?" Javier exclaimed.

"If Crosby finds out, we can be sent home," she explained.

"Crosby doesn't need to know shit," Murphy said indignantly.

Messina got up to talk.

"This is an order"

Javier and Murphy were shocked and paralyzed.

Carrillo looked at them.

"We will be in touch by radio. I'll bring her home." he told Javier.

And he left.

"Jesus!" Javier exclaimed like a sigh. Walking from side to side, running your hands through your hair.

This was the most forceful clue Javier and Steve had from Pablo Escobar. But you Javier thought millions of times, between you and Pablo, he wasn't paying much attention to Pablo. And the mistake started there. He didn't think straight. He didn't analyze it. Javier wanted to act as fast as he could. He just wanted you to come back, alive.

***

What comforted Javier about the operation was that who would be there was Carrillo. Since he couldn't go. That's all.

"We're out in 20 minutes"

Javier listened to Carrillo on the radio. Sitting with his body on the table, so focused on the radio that he didn't notice Murphy walking back and forth behind him. Edward tuning in to the eavesdropping, or the presence of Messina in front of him.

The train left towards the first target. You.

The vehicles made a worm path through the streets of Medellin.

"We are getting closer to the target"

Javier listened. Closing his eyes, with the device stuck to his face.

May she be alive. Please.

Javier wouldn't forgive himself if he couldn't save you.

Carrillo parked, and positioned the men with a view to shooters over other nearby houses and roofs. And also some men who would accompany him for theirs.

"We are in front of the address"

Carrillo wouldn't need to give this information. But he thought of Peña.

They broke down the door, and the shooting started.

You were in a room upstairs, blindfolded, hands and feet tied. Too weak to be able to get up and sit down.

You heard voices, shots and feet running. Something inside you said that this was its end. There were many possibilities. Another cartel invades the place. The sicarios fights with each other. Someone came to pick you up, but honestly, after seven days, you no longer counted on this possibility.

The first three days were acceptable. Nobody hit you. They brought acceptable food, and removed you to go to the bathroom. But on the fourth day some men tried to take advantage of you, drunk and drugged. At that time you were loose without presenting any kind of threat, just blindfolded.

But when the men approached you with dirty intentions, you fought. As if your life depended on it. Because it depended. With nails and teeth. Literally. You ripped a piece of a man's ear. And he scratched his face so deep if another that you were sure he would never be able to look in the mirror without remembering the reason for the scar.

"No" one of them held the arm of the one who pointed the gun at you "No podemos matarla"

Not being able to kill you, it brought you consequences. They couldn't kill you, but they could punish you in other ways. Hitting you. Punches. Kicks. They tied you up. And they wouldn't let you go to the bathroom or eat. You were without a bath, stinky, and peeing for days on yourself. The plate of food always came with a surprise, spit, or insects.

And at that point, you would already rather die than continue in this inhuman situation.

When the door to the room you were in was broken into. You heard steps approaching you, slow.

Colonel Carrillo saw the situation you were in. A girl like you should never have been subjected to this.

"Jesus," he exclaimed.

The radio on, all the time. Peña on the other side, was breathing with difficulty. The chest squeezing.

"Don't touch me," you said, crawling slowly to stay in a corner of the room. But for some reason, the person didn't respect it.

Javier listening to his voice on the radio, managed to relax, he let out the air through his mouth, and supported his head with his hands, still holding the radio close to his forehead.

So you screamed.

"Get out! Don't touch me"

"Shhhh"

"Let go of me, you son of a bitch" you struggled like a fish out of the water using your last energies and strength. "Please"

"It's me, Carrillo, it's okay, I came to get you out of here"

He took off his blindfold, your eyes taking a long time to adapt.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Can you walk?"

You had no reaction. You was afraid it would be a hallucination.

Carrillo put his arms under your back to lift you up.

"She's here," he shouted.

Trujillo entered the room. Frowning. Disturbed by your situation.

"How is she?"

You heard Peña's voice on the radio, from Trujillo.

"Alive"

He answered.

Trujillo's answer did not reassure Javier. He knew. He has seen many captivity. And he was afraid of your situation.

Carrillo realized that you couldn't move, and took you in his lap.

You murmured. With body aches.

"It's okay, I got you, it's going to be fast" Passing the other hand behind your knees.

Javi heard his murmurs. Still with my eyes closed imagining the whole scene as if he were there with you.

It was the most tense and agonizing situation that Messina and Murphy had recorded Javier living. They had never seen Agent Peña that way. Murphy was beginning to measure the seriousness of his friend's case. And he thought if it was Connie in place. His stomach turned. He felt guilty for not having helped his partner more attentively, when his cat was killed, Javier went to the last breath with it.

Murphy walked to Javier and squeezed his partner's shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"Give her a uniform to wear," Carrilho said.

"Yes sir" Trujillo, fixed a shirt on you.

Your clothes are too torn and dirty.

You don't remember if you were able to sleep in this place. And probably not. When Carrillo put you sitting in the car seat, passing your belt through you, your body seemed to have been taken from under a truck that weighed on you.

"You're safe now, let's take you home, did you hear me?"

You nodded.

Finally managing to breathe.

"Let's get someone else now, rest"

Carrillo ran his hand through his hair. He closed the door. And he got into the front seat next to the driver.

"Target 1 recovered"

Peña opened his eyes. Throwing his head back.

Messina furrowed her forehead at him.

"Sorry," she murmured, now knowing how he should and wanted to be there.

"Let's go to San Juan"

You heard Trujillo's voice on the radio.

"Understood. Be careful, guys"

Now it was Murphy who spoke.

"How is the situation?"

"Everything is quiet. Murphy, tonight you pay for the drink"

It was Tujillo's voice.

You hear Carrillo laughing in the front seat. Too tired to be with your eyes open.

"Don't forget the cigars of the sicarios for me and Peña"

Murphy seemed happy.

"Claro, bonita”

Trujillo was interrupted by the deafening noise of a bomb, which exploded in the car in front of his.

You clung to the seat, watching the vehicle go into the air, and the light yellow of the fire exploding in combustion with air.

"It's on fire!"

Javier and Murphy listened on the radio.

Carillo looked back at you, who had your eyes smashed.

A truck positioned itself at the entrance of the street preventing your passage.

"In reverse," he shouted.

But another truck stopped behind you. You were surrounded.

"It's an ambush"

Trujillo shouted on the radio.

And the shots started.

"Carrillo answers. Carrillo! Trujillo! Do you hear?"

You heard Javier's voice on the radio.

The noise of the automatics would make you more deaf than the bomb. This was the biggest shooting you’ve ever seen.

Javier and Murphy listened to the shooting.

"Damn! Talk to me!"

Murphy turned to Messina

"We need reinforcements"

Javier was leaning over the radio with his eyes closed.

"Carrillo?" He called.

The shots hitting the glasses next to you, breaking them on you. The driver's blood splashed on you after the shot hit the head.

You took your hands to your ears, and bent down in the back seat.

There was another explosion of the car's engine behind you.

You heard Carrillo open the vehicle door. You crawled in the back seat, to reach the pistol in the holster of the agent who was killed in the driver's seat.

You held the pistol, with trembling hands, lowered, so shrunk that you would reduce its size twice.

You listened to the shots, and you wanted to scream because you knew that Carrillo outside the car, there was only one end, he would be killed.

There was one last shot, and then you heard the sound of the body falling to the ground.

Peña had his hand squeezing his eyes.

"Fuck!"

He left the radio room. Walking aimlessly through the base. You had died. That's what he thought. Died.

His eyes were blurred. He was desperate. If they had gone, they could have rescued you and returned to the base while Carrillo went after Pablo.

But on the other hand, Javier began to feel guilty, for the ambush he put all of you. It was his contact. It was his information. And now you were dead. Carrillo was dead.

It was his fault.

You heard a truck move. But I didn't have the courage to get up. You couldn't move. Your body trembled all at the same time it was locked. You didn't know what to do.

The noise of footsteps over the cracked windows, approaching the car where you were. You were hyper conscious listening to everything around you. The fire is cracking. The noise of the metal creaking. And now the steps. Your head moved fast, while you looked for the direction of the origin of the sound.

The silhouette of three men invaded the shadows that the fire made burning in front of you, you could know that they were behind you, at the door where you were leaning. You closed your eyes.

"Mire me" you heard.

And you automatically opened his eyes, obeying through the adrenaline and fear that ran through his veins. But you didn't see anything. It wasn't with you.

"Que me mire!" The voice was familiar. "Le pediste a un niño que me diera esto"

Your heart stopped. Would it be possible?

You tried to move as little as possible, to look through the glass of the door window, above you.

You knew who it was. It was him. It was Pablo Escobar. There in front of you. You stopped breathing.

Your eyes roused when you understood what was going to happen.

Pablo triggered the gun. And he aimed at Carrillo's head.

You put a hand in your mouth, so that you would continue to make the greatest absolute silence possible.

"Te estoy devolviendo" Pablo said. And he shot.

The sound made you jump in fright in the car. You closed your eyes.

"Y esto es para mi primo Gustavo."

And you heard 9 more shots in a row.

There was a silence.

Sound of sirens in the background.

You were lowered, shrunk, with your hand in your mouth, your eyes closed, holding the useless pistol.

You don't know how long you stayed there. You heard little by little closer and closer, the noise of cars approaching. Sirens. People talking and running. But you couldn't move.

Peña ran from car to car, until he got to the last one, seeing dead Carrillo lying on the ground. He walked more slowly. Digesting the image. He knew you were close, you were in the car with Carrillo. And then he saw your head, behind the driver's seat.

He turned around quickly, and hesitated to open the door. Your back fell backwards. He held you.

"Hey hey hey" your body in Javier's arms, he felt your sob, and your whole body tremble, "It's me, I'm here, look at me"

You sank your head into his chest, the smell of the family colony. Only your arms loosened enough from your body to sink your fingers into the flesh of his shoulders.

"I need to see you cariño, look at me" he knelt on the floor. "HELP!" He screamed.

Murphy spotted you both, and ran to call a rescuer.

You used to cry. And you didn't even realize you were crying. It was impossible to control, you couldn't stop. You couldn't open your eyes. You wanted to hide forever. Your knees stuck to your chest.

Javier's hands passed through the side of your cheek.

"Honey, please, I need you to open your eyes," he murmured with his lips leaning against your head.

Javier tried to push you away to check your body, but you were still in the same position you were in the car. Sinking your hands even deeper into his shoulder. He put you on his lap while you were sitting on the floor, and shook you slowly.

Then he reached the gun that was in both hands, which you held firmly in your hand.

"Give to me, babe, I'll take care of it now" you released automatically.

"Are you hurt?" He groed your back, looking at his hands looking for blood. He found it when he squeezed your arm and you whined shrinking more, his hands stained with blood.

He raised your sleeve carefully and saw that it was just a scraping bullet wound.

The rescuer approached you with the stretcher.

Javier shook his head.

"She's not going to lie there," Javier said.

"I need her to lie down so I can examine and check the traumas," the man said.

"Do you have a female rescuer?" Javier looked through the cars while still holding the cupcake you formed on his lap.

The rescuer nodded. Shouting a woman's name.

"Babe, I'll take you to take care of you, okay?" He spoke calmly, the tone of voice hoarse and low. Javier got up, and you squeezed his shoulder even more.

The marks of your nails would be stuck in his flesh, but he didn't care, what mattered was that you were alive. He walked with you to the mobile ambulance.

He sat with you on his lap.

Peña studied you.

You were thinner. Deep eyes. The smaller cheeks. Your right eye was black. Your lips were broken in a cut in the left corner.

They assaulted you.

There were marks on your wrists, probably from where you were tied. Your clothes were torn, and your arms were scratched. Signs that you tried to defend yourself.

They tried to abuse you.

He held your wrist, pulling your hands that closed around his fingers. Javier analyzed, your nails were bloody.

Signs that someone was badly injured. Good. He gave a light kiss on your fingers.

Javier ran his fingers over your hair.

The rescuer approached.

"I need you to open your eyes to me"

You heard it. But you spent so much time blindfolded, and now you were so scared, that it seemed right to continue with your eyes closed.

Peña made a caress by running her fingers over her eyebrows. You wouldn't stop shaking.

He spoke in his favorite tone, his lips rubbing the top of his head.

"Look at me, cariño, please, let's take care of you"

You made an effort. Only and exclusively because you really wanted to see Javier. Look at him. For the most beautiful eyes you've ever seen. Little by little you opened your eyes, trying to adapt to the light.

"That’s it" he kept running his fingers through your eyebrows as if he were trying to calm you down "that's it, you're doing well, babe"

The light bothered you, but you saw his face. You swallowed it dry.

Javier nodded to the rescuer.

You had your face glued to his chest, the perfect fit of your head and the contour of his neck, as if it belonged to that place.

The rescuer passed the light over her eyes to check for trauma. But it's all right.

She lifted the blouse from her arm.

And you didn't look away from Javier's face for a minute. He also looked at you, but sometimes he watched and talked to the rescuer.

She pressed the product to sterilize the place where the bullet scraped you. You shrunk. Pulling the air through your mouth, frowning your face in pain.

"It's okay, it will pass, it's fast, I promise" Javier was attentive to you, always trying to comfort you.

After a long time. You felt your muscles unlocking. And an enormous pain, in your body, his breathing comes out trembling. Little by little, you sat down, Javier finally took you off his lap, and laid you down on the stretcher, where the rescuer made a new evaluation of you.

Javier was lowered at the height of your head, on the stretcher, with his hands on your head. The rescuer put an access on you, for serum. You needed to hydrate yourself.

"Did they touch you?" Javier asked with the saddest eyes you had ever seen him carry.

You shook your head in the negative.

He ran his hand through your hair. Looking at the rescuer, while she finished first aid on you.

"Is she okay? How is she?" He asked the girl.

“She's in shock, some injuries, but nothing serious"

Javier was looking for your eyes, which were glazed lost in nothing, with some persistent tears still running down his face.

"You're fine babe, everything is fine, I'm here with you, everything will be fine..." he spoke as he looked at you, and looked for your soul, which was out of the body.

You could hear Javier, you could feel the weight of his warm and big hand in your arms, the affection he made in your hair, you could smell his cologne, and the noise of the creaking of the leather of his jacket with his movements, but I couldn't feel anything inside you, it was a hollow void, and full of fear.

The noises of the thousands of shots fired by the semi-automatics, still echoing in your head making a big buzz in your ear. The feeling of the hot blood of the driver splashing on you. The sound of the bullet piercing his head. Flashbacks that crossed your mind.

At some point your mouth moved. And Javier moved to get closer to you.

"I heard them..." your voice came out like a murmur, while the rescuer moved your arm.

Your eyes are still glazed in nothing.

"Who did you hear?" Javier sat down now, standing over you, dancing his eyes between your eyes, curious, worried "who did you hear cariño?"

He settled down leaning closer to you, perhaps trying to hear you better, since your voice was nothing more than a murmur.

"I heard Pablo approaching Carrilho..." your eyes watered you felt your nose burn, your chest hurting pulling an erratic breath, your voice faltered, "I heard him trigger the gun, and say that it was for Gustavo" your eyes finally found Javier's, your tears flowed down your face. "It was him"

Javier was silent for a while, swallowed it dry. And finally he held your face. Your purple lip, cracked with the wound.

"Shhhh" he passed his thumb wiping the tears that flowed "It's okay"

"I didn't do anything..." your words came out with the air from your mouth, "I could have saved him, I could have shot Pablo and ended that there" you shook your head frantically, as the tears flowed.

"No, babe, it's okay..." Javier caressed your hair, and pulled your face so that your foreheads were united.

"I didn't do anything, I didn't do fucking..." you were crying, unable to control yourself, pulling your breath desperately.

"Hey! You're safe, babe. That's all that matters, it's okay, breathe for me, okay?" Javier spoke low and low, calmly, he inspired you to imitate his movements.

But you just couldn't get the air into your lungs. Everything was tears, blurry, and pain.

"I don't..." came out between desperate sighs.

Javier looked at the rescuer, and she nodded to Javier, who lifted you a little from the stretcher wrapping you in a tight hug. Caressing the back of your neck, your fingers intertwined between your hair.

"Everything is fine now, I'm here, let's get them, I promise." Javier's hoarse and low voice between your hair.

Gradually his warmth comforted you, and left you damped. His smell, calming you down.

The rescuer showed him on his back, a tranquilizer, and he nodded. Moving away from you enough for the rescuer to reach your arm, to apply it to you.

"No..." you shook your head frantically with your eyes wide.

Javier held your face firmly with his hands on your cheeks.

"It will help, babe, I'll take care of you, trust me" he said looking deep into your eyes, wiping your tears.

Looking at him and the rescuer, you blinked a few times, and ended up giving in, you nodded.

The rescuer applied it to you. And in a few minutes, the buzz in your ear slowly dissipated, your eyes getting heavy.

Javier felt your body giving in. He was laying you back on the stretcher gently.

"It's okay, I'm here" Javier's voice was getting distant.

"Stay with me" you held his arm.

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured.

Feeling his warm hand wrap your cold fingers, your eyes closed and everything was silent.

Peace.

#pedro pascal #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fluff #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña #narcos #narcos fanfiction

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imagines-to-quench-thirst · 1 year

Text

Mysterious Cafe Meet Up

Bucky Barnes x Fem! Reader || Meet Cute Fluff

Genre: fluff, meet-cute

Notes: I think that Bucky would definitely have a typewriter and carry it everywhere

————————————

Writing was a new-found outlet for the man, the myth, the Winter Solider, James Barnes. Writing once when he was alone on his mission a few years ago was a great outlet to focus on himself. The writing was a great center point for him while he was still adjusting to the new age, the new wave of it all. It was like a wave crashing on him, onto the man whose soul was still back in his time. Typing on his typewriter, which he found in a thrift store, was bliss for Bucky, reminded of the oh-so-familiar rusty click sounds of the letters.

The typewriter was mainly used to annoy people around him who just decided to drink from his white non-branded mug on the left top shelf, third from the right side. This person just knew what tore Bucky's strings, you know who I mean. Sam… Sam and Bucky had hate-a-little-bit-of-friendship, and if Sam drank from Bucky's cup, Bucky would type loudly on the typewriter. Each sip=each letter. To somehow even the Plainfield.

Sam enjoyed the annoyance of bothering Bucky so much so that Bucky had gotten writer's block from Sam's constant mug-stealing and illegal sipping.

'Sam, what the hell! Can you not!' Bucky looked at his friend/enemy, hoping that his brain would stop where he was creating the story. 'This is my time! And that is my mug...no, don't take another sip. No!'

Sam chortles at the soldiers' antics, seeing it more so as a diminutive kid throwing a tantrum just because someone took his cup.

'I didn't know that your panties were in a bunch because of this.' Sam finishes his sentence with a sip.

Bucky stands up, keen to take back his cup, but his gaze fails as he looks back to his typewriter, saying a claimant and sharp 'No!' Bucky's brain shortcuts the idea and writing, fleeing away.

'I hope you are happy, bird brain. I just lost my trail of thought.'

taking his typewriter, he walks to Sam, stopping to say, 'If I didn't like this typewriter, I would hurl it in your face.'

'Go touch some grass, Barnes. You have been here the last 4 days.' Sam says, tapping Bucky's shoulder as he takes a sip walking into the kitchen to make himself another cup of coffee.

Walking out into the city, Bucky feels the people's stares, glances, and just plain rude stares at the man.

Yeah, yeah, judge me. As if seeing a man carrying a typewriter is something odd, but when another person walks into the city with a bat outfit, and they are normal, please!

Walking into the central square park, next to it was a cafe offering a cozy place enveloped with flowers growing across the walls, terrace, and chairs, exuding an ethereal presence. A magnifying pull encapsulates him, and Bucky sees himself sitting on the patio.

'What would you like to drink?' A voice asks him, dainty and cheerfully

Bucky looks to his side to see the owner of the voice; turning around to see a lady, a gorgeous lady, an astonishingly cute woman who---

'Would you like to order something to drink, sir?' she asks again, examining him with doe eyes filled with curiosity and patience.

'Uhm--uhh, so pretty.' Bucky mumbles, looking at her

losing the ability to speak, he looks at the menu, standing on the table, opens it, and points to a drink just to get the ball rolling.

'You would like the Vanilla Ice Cream Mocha with Double Unicorn Sprinkles?' she asks, jotting down the order on her paper as she waits for him to confirm it.

'Yes.' he voices, ensuring with a nod.

The lady walks away, and Bucky looks back at the menu, smiling. His gaze halts as he looks at the picture of the drink he 'wanted.'

Vanilla Ice Cream Mocha with Double Unicorn?! My goodness, that is a mouthful just to say it let alone drink it.

Looking behind him to see the bar, the lady making the drink as she chatted with her coworkers, one of them seeing Bucky's gaze on the lady. Her coworker whispers to her, making her blush. Bucky looks back, feeling a ping of butterflies in his brain.

What should I do? I really want to impress her... I know I'll place the writer on the table. Quick! I can hear her footsteps, type something, anything. Act cool! Be cool, James!

Placing the confectionery drink near his hand, the youthful lady says, 'Enjoy!'

In an instant, a wave of enthusiasm washes over Bucky as he looks at her, saying proudly, 'Just the drink I need to get me going on my writing.'

'You write?' She asks curiously

Bucky leans back into the garden chair, saying ever so subtly, 'Yes, I have written a few good books, and now I am on my 4th one.'

'Oh, wow, I wish I was a writer. A lot of great writers always have the best personal stories to tell. But most of the time, when I start writing, I get terrible writer's block, and by the time it clears up. I forget what I want to write about. But my best friend, he is a great writer.'

She looks at him with a soft smile on her face, her eyes radiating comfort. 'And what does your friend do when he has writer's block?'

'He always says that writing about your personal story, that way you can make peace with your past by writing and learning from it.'

Bucky smiles, the butterflies bubbling in his veins, coursing in his body, wanting more of this interaction.

'Anyways, I have to get back. Enjoy your drink.' The lady leaves, and Bucky just can't help but to smile to himself, almost giggling like a schoolgirl at the innocent interaction.

As he looks back at his typewriter, Bucky chugs down the drink. And stands up with his typewriter in his hand. Walking in to pay for his drink, he is welcomed by the coworker's friend.

'Hello. I would like to pay for my drink.'

'Of course. That would be 5.20$.'

Bucky hands her the money leaving a generous tip. 'Can you also thank your friend for the writing advice.'

The friend smiles, nodding, and Bucky asks one more question, 'I don't want to sound like a creep, I am really not, but what is her name?'

'Y/n. The name is Y/n.' The lady in question walks to the counter, smiling at the soldier. 'And what is your name?' She asks

'James. But my friends call me Bucky.'

'My friend also has a friend called James.'

'Small world.' He grins

Y/n leans to the side, seeing a newly formed line of customers waiting. Getting the memo, Bucky bids the ladies farewell as he walks back home.

Returning to his shared apartment, Bucky sat at the dining table with his typewriter and started to write using his personal past to remove the writer's block. The apartment door opens as Sam walks in, seeing Bucky typing diligently. Bucky greets him with a nod as Sam grabs the same mug from later today. Bucky simply glances at his cup but continues to type, the clicking sounds filling the apartment. Bucky finishes the last page, typing out

I want to meet her again.

Sam grins at Bucky as he walks into the kitchen to grab another mug.

'You got over your mug tantrum?'

Bucky chuckles and shrugs at the notion. Sam looks at his phone as it buzzes an incoming call for Captain America.

'Sorry, I have to take this. It's my friend.'

Bucky acknowledged and walks away into his room, hearing Sam talking

'Hey, Y/n. How was your day?'

Bucky froze, not believing which name he heard. Turning around, he catches Sam's all-knowing gaze.

'Oh, and what did that Bucky look like?' Sam chortles, seeing Bucky near closer and closer

'Well, by the sounds of it, that Bucky guy sounds like a creep. Especially the ones that say, "I am definitely not a creep"... I need to go, darlin', but I'll call ya later. Bye!'

Hanging up, Sam falls on the floor as Bucky tackles him.

'I am not a creep!'

Hope you liked it!

An Audio AMSR is up on Patreon!

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dontknowmanijustworkhere · 2 months

Text

Formal Training

Seeing Wednesday tied up on her bed and struggling to escape was not something Enid expected to see when she came back to their dorm.

She stopped in her tracks and stared. Her roommate's ankles were tied together, as were her arms behind her back. Sitting on her desk near her typewriter was Thing. He seemed to be watching her, unconcerned.

“Uh...what’s going on?”

Wednesday shut her eyes, irritated. Whether by her predicament or Enid's presence, the blonde girl didn't know. “Don't you have somewhere to be?”

“My study group got out early,” Enid came around to the other side of Wednesday's bed. “So what's all this about? Is this some weird family tradition or something?”

Wednesday sneered at her, but half her face was pressed into her bed so it didn't really have its intended effect. “I don't expect you to understand, Enid, but this is part of the formal training I had with my uncle.”

“Formal training?” Enid repeated, stifling a giggle.

“Yes,” Wednesday said, annoyed by her reaction. “It's a test to see if you are able to break through any confinement. Clearly my time at Nevermore has dulled my abilities. This was never a problem before.”

“How long has it been?” Enid asked. “Like, how long have you been trying?”

“Half an hour,” Wednesday said angrily.

Briefly tuning out the aggravated muttering of her roommate, Enid’s eyes drifted to the end of the bed where Wednesday’s feet were. She was still in her shoes and socks.

A thought came to her. An evil thought that should make Wednesday proud. It was a secret that no one besides her and Thing knew, but Wednesday was ticklish. She'd only found out about it by accident after Thing let her know about it. Wednesday had been in a foul mood after that. Enid suspected she was probably embarrassed so she didn't bring it up after that.

But now would be a perfect time for her to use it to her advantage! It'll brighten up her mood and she couldn't get away. Plus, she totally deserved it after ditching a previously agreed upon girls day!

Enid went to sit by the edge of the bed by her feet. She brought a finger to her lips in front of Thing, trying not to grin. Wednesday was so going to kill her after this but it was totes worth it.

“What are you doing?” Wednesday said suddenly when Enid peeled off her shoes.

Enid beamed, straddling her ankles. “Was tickling part of your formal training?” She said slyly.

“Enid, don't!”

She traced one baby pink colored fingernail up and down the trapped foot. It twitched, toes scrunching up. She added more fingers, softly tickling from her heel up to her toes. Enid felt Wednesday's body squirming and grinned. Wednesday liked to act all tough, but she probably wouldn't last too much longer without laughing.

She did the same to the other foot, simultaneously attacking them both. But she kept the tickling slow, purposely making her fingers drag down the middle of the foot. Oh, Wednesday was definitely jerking now, trying desperately to pull her feet away.

“Oof. I would totally be a mess right now if I were you,” Enid commented. “And to, like, be restrained and not be able to move my arms? Gosh, that'd be torture. But you like torture so I bet it's fine, right?”

Wednesday’s face was on the mattress, muffling the sounds she was making. Not quite a laugh, Enid thought. But she was close.

“Come on, Wens, I know you're ticklish.”

She lifted up Wednesday's sock just slightly over the heel. As soon as the soft touch of her fingers were there, those muffled sounds were louder.

“Come onnnn,” she said in a singsong.

Using two fingers, she pulled the sock completely off, tossing it to the floor. She did the same with the other foot.

Wednesday was in for it now.

Beneath her, she felt Wednesday jolt when the tips of her nails touched her bare feet. She was totally caught off guard.

“This is for all the times you've been mean to me,” Enid declared, skittering her nails all over Wednesday's foot. She kept trying to move her foot but she could only move around minimally.

Wednesday was trying to hold in her laughter, but she couldn't hold it in forever. Enid heard muffled giggles from behind and felt triumphant. Wednesday’s resistance was crumbling.

And fast.

“Thing!” Enid looked up with a grin. “You should join me!”

Thing was unsure.

“Come on,” Enid said, trying to be persuasive. “She's so mean to you sometimes. You totally need to get her back!”

“N-no!” Wednesday yelped, still snickering from the tickling on the foot Enid was occupied with. “Th-Thing, do not!”

Thing jumped over to the bed anyway, coming over to where Enid was. Any hesitation he might have had was gone; he wiggled a couple of his digits, going right for her toes while Enid went back to the middle of her foot on her left leg.

The simultaneous tickling pretty much broke Wednesday.

Her helpless laughter filled the room, making Enid feel very satisfied. She thrashed as much as she could, but her feet remained still and her arms still confined.

“Aww,” she teased, though it was drowned out by Wednesday's girlish giggles. “Does that tickle? Does it tickle there? Or here? Does it tickle right there?”

It was cruel to tease her when she was so vulnerable and unable to move away, but Wednesday should appreciate this. It's the same kind of cruelty she'd do to someone. Well, Enid didn't know if Wednesday would voluntarily tickle someone but the point still stands.

“I’m so gonna do this next time you hide one of my plushies!” Enid declared, envisioning how she could use this to her advantage in the future now that she knew how to get Wednesday laughing. “Isn’t that a good idea, Wens?”

Her roomie was too busy laughing into the mattress to answer her.

#tickle fic #tickling #wednesday tickle #wednesday tickles #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #lee wednesday #lee! wednesday #ticklish wednesday #enid sinclair #thing addams

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talksliketherain · 1 year

Text

Wednesday Addams - Oblivious

Backstory- You had liked Wednesday since she got to Nevermore and became your roommate. She now has a mystery crush.

Not proof read! Please do not copy or steal my work or post it anywhere else. If you have any requests please dm me!

———————

Reader pov-

I was looking everywhere for her. Nowhere to be found.

I tried talking to Wednesday earlier about rearranging our dorm so we would have more space, but when I went up to her she closed her eyes and took a sharp turn, walking in the opposite direction.

I took that as my hint to leave her alone.

Most people didn't get that with Wednesday. She needed to be alone sometimes, and I respected that as much as I could.

But she usually seemed to enjoy being around me. I always felt like somehow I was the exception to her coldness.

I knew why she was acting so weird lately though. She had a crush.

She often let me read the novel that she was working on. It was very painfully obvious that the main character was her.

In her novel, the protagonist had just begun to form a crush. But they couldn't tell them for fear of letting their guard down.

It hurt that Wednesday liked someone, but I was glad she was finally beginning to open up.

But when I asked her about who she liked she replied "Don't be ignorant Y/n. It's just a character in a book. I had to make it interesting somehow."

But I knew better. I had been trying to figure out who she liked for days. But I had come up with nothing. She shunned almost everyone that tried to talk to her.

I mean the only friends she had in this school were me and Eugene, and I don't even count because we're roommates. She has to get along with me.

I went into our dorm, seeking to talk to her about our room some more. I had learned to drop the subject of her infatuation.

She ended up being on the balcony. No cello. No typewriter. That was odd.

I quietly closed the door behind me and went to sit on my bed to read my book. As I said, I was better off leaving her be.

I had gotten a few chapters in when she entered back in through the window. She didn't even notice me until I spoke up.

"Are you alright? You looked kind of deep in thought."

I watched as her spine straightened out and her shoulders tensed. She refused to be startled or scared, so her version was more of a tense-up.

"What book are you reading?" She said, shaking off my question.

"The Catcher in the Rye. You didn't answer my question."

She huffed and turned around.

“If I knew I was walking back into an interrogation, I would have stayed outside."

"Not an interrogation. Just a question."

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Good. I was meaning to talk to you about rearranging the room by the way. For space. And to mix thin-"

"You really are oblivious aren't you?"

I bookmarked my spot and shut it. I then slowly looked up to make eye contact with the Addams girl.

She looked comfortable for once.

Having your crush as your roommate was beneficial. Especially with Wednesday. I got to see her in something other than her usual dress or uniform. She looked almost relaxed in her black crew neck and sweatpants. Her hair was out of her braids, going down her shoulders in long black waves.

It took a while to convince her that other things were more comfortable for her to sleep in, but I eventually got through. Even getting her to let her hair relax and fall out of her usual braids was a challenge.

It pleased me to see her finally able to let go, even if it was just a little bit.

"What do you mean?"

"Listen. I've been feeling...weird."

"Can you elaborate on that?"

"God, you sound like my therapist."

"I'm serious Wen."

"I've had this feeling. And it hasn't gone away. I've had it for a while but it started to get stronger recently. I don't know what to do about it."

"Can you describe it? Maybe I can help."

"Every time I'm around a certain person, I get this rush. It's even better than an adrenaline rush. It's like, whenever I'm around them, time stops. I want to get rid of it. Now."

Ouch.

"I mean it sounds like you like them a lot. You have a crush. And the only way to get rid of that is to tell them."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"See this is why I was outside earlier. I could just talk inside my head instead of having someone else ask the same questions."

"Fine. If you aren't going to take my help I might as well.."

"No. Fine. Go ahead. What should I do?"

Helping her get the person she wanted sucked. I guess that's what friends were for, but sometimes a crossover of friend and crush is fatal.

"Have you tried dropping hints?"

She looked at me, eyes glaring as hard as she could.

"Yes. But they're so oblivious to everything I do, they just brush it off."

"So tell them straight up."

"But I can't. They deserve someone better."

I stood up and walked over to her, sitting down on her bed next to where she was standing up.

She sat down next to me, body still as stiff as a board.

"I guarantee they won't be able to find anyone as interesting as you Wednesday. You're certainly irreplaceable."

She stayed silent and finally looked over at me.

I hadn't realized how close we were until she turned. I looked down at her pale lips. They suited her well.

I had to practically hold myself back. I couldn't. She liked someone else. Get it together.

"Y/n?"

My eyes flashed back up to meet hers.

"Wednesday."

She leaned closer to me, so close I could hear her breathe. She smelled like the wind.

"What if- what if that person I've been talking about was...you?"

I looked down and thought about it. All of those signals. Every hint. Every tiny touch or little nudge that she didn't push away. She was trying to let me know she liked me.

I looked back up to meet her eyes again.

"I wouldn't believe you."

"Then let me prove it."

She leaned in just a little closer to fill the gap between us. She was gentle. Too gentle. Like she would break me if she were to press any harder.

I put my hand on the side of her face to pull her closer and let her know it was okay to apply a little more pressure.

We finally pulled away and she looked up at me.

"Well? Do you believe me now?"

"I don't know. Maybe you'll have to do it again." I laughed.

"Hmph." She turned, trying to hide the slight smirk on her face.

"I like you too Wednesday. It's late now though so goodnight, I'll see you tomorrow" I said with a smile.

I got up and headed over to my bed, happy with the outcome of the night.

"Wait," she said a little too quickly.

"What's up."

She looked away, trying to hide her face.

"Could you maybe..stay?" She said just above a whisper.

"I thought you didn't like touch."

"I don't. But there's nothing wrong with you being...closer." She glanced at my bed, all the way across the room.

"As long as you're okay with it."

She nodded and scooted over to the right side of the bed.

I lay down on the left side, trying to leave some room between us. I didn't want to push my boundaries any more than I should, but she surprised me by backing up a little bit. Our backs were now pressed up against each other.

I was a naturally warm person, and Wednesday was naturally cold. It was nice to have something to balance out my heat.

All I could think about was how her body felt pressed up against mine.

Maybe if I stayed awake all night I could make this moment last a little longer.

————————

THANKS FOR READING!!!

#wednesday characters x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday #wednsday addams #wednesday x y/n #wedensday #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #wlw #sapphic #wednesday addams #wednesday addams fluff

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captainchewtoybaby · 2 years

Text

Be my Baby

Chapter 6 : ice cream

Home. Finally after just three days on the road, Bret was home and he couldn't be more happier. But this was just only a two day break as next Monday Stampede would be touring again.

As much as he liked being home, there was still one person on his mind. Whitney. Sure he wasn't gonna let the rejection thing go but he really liked the girl. He had to find a way to spend some alone time with her.

But he had one problem. Melanie. He needed to break it off with her before he could take it a step forward with Whitney. But something inside of him made him feel guilty. Was he really ready to face Melanie and break up with her?

A knock at the door startled him. He went to answer it. It was Gina. Not again.

"Hi." She said, with a smile.

"Hey, what's up?" Bret asked.

"Well, I made some brownies and I didn't want to eat them all, so I brought some for you." Gina held up a plate covered with a napkin.

"Uh, thanks." Bret said and grabbed the plate.

"They're just as tasty as my muffins." Gina gave him a wink. Bret laughed awkwardly.

"Anyways, I was also here to ask you something." She said. "My sister is having a party in two weeks and I was wondering if you would like to come, you know, get some drinks, and meet the family."

"That sound great and all bu-"

"Oh come on, please don't tell me you have a tour or something."

"Well, knowing my schedule, I probably have one , but I'll check it out and then I'll get back to you."

He was lying. He knew he wasn't going to get back to her. He had his own problems he needed to worry about.

"Alright, I better go, bye." Gina waved at him. Bret said his goodbye and closed the door. He leaned his head on the door and sighed. He then looked over at the hamster cage, where Chico was staring at him.

"Don't give me that look." He said to the furry animal. "You would lie to."

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The number one thing Whitney hoped to do when she was back at the hart house, was getting some good sleep and rest. But that all went out the window when she was woken up by a scream. At first she thought it was just her imagination, but when she heard it a second time, it made her jump out of bed. She went downstairs to see what was going on but was surprised when she went into the livingroom to find Helen, completely unbothered by the screams, watching tv.

"Goodmorning, dear." Helen greeted her.

"Goodmorning, is everything alright?" Whitney asked, still confused by the screams.

"Oh, yes, it's just Stu in his ' dungeon'." Helen said. Whitney grew even more concerned.

"A what?" She asked.

"The basement, dear, he trains people down there." Helen explained. "Our boys call it 'the dungeon'."

Whitney let out a sigh of relief.

"Maybe you should go check it out, it'll make a nice addition to your story."

Without hesitation Whitney went down to the basement. When she arrived at the basement she was met with an unusual scene. Stu had some poor guy in a submission hold while three other guys were watching.

"Hello Whitney." Stu said as soon as he saw her. He let the guy go and got up.

"Boys, this lovely young lady over here, is Whitney."

The boys all gave her a small wave and a quick "hello".

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I just came down here to see what was going on." Whitney said. "Helen told me this is where you train future wrestlers."

"Yes." Stu said. "I don't know if you want to add it to your story."

"I'll have to think about it." Whitney said. "I have to go, goodluck to you boys." Whitney waved and went back upstairs.

After taking a shower and having breakfast, Whitney went to work on the interview she did with Bruce. Helen had given her an old typewriter so she could write down what was useful. After about 20 minutes of work, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in." Whitney said. And who was it? None other than Bret Hart. Oh no not him again. After the whole rejection situation, Whitney didn't want anything to do with him.

"Hi." He said, closing the door behind him.

"Hello, Owen is out, if you're looking for him." Whitney said.

"I'm actually not here for Owen." Bret said.

"Oh? Well your da-"

"I'm here to visit you."

Withney looked up from the typewriter. What on earth did he want with her?

"Me?" She asked.

"Yea, i just wanted to know how you were doing after the tour, you know, since it can be tiring and stuff like that." Bret said, scratching the back of his head. Whitney knew he was bullshitting.

"That's not why you're actually here, is it?" Whitney asked.

"Alright you got me, i just wanted to see you, that's all."

"Well here I am, okay, bye." Whitney said. Now was not the time for chatting, she needed to get her work done.

"So you're just gonna kick me out like that, Sunshine." Bret said. There it was. That stupid nickname.

"For the last time, it's Whitney, not Sunshine."

"What if I like sunshine better?" Bret said. Whitney let out a sigh.

"I don't have time for this." She said and went back to typing. Instead of leaving Bret went to sit on the bed.

"I see you got Diana's room." He looked around. "Are you a fan of Leif Garrette too?"

"No, I'm a David Bowie kind of girl."

"Good choice." He said. "I listen to Zeppelin, sometimes a bit of Simon and Garfunkel."

"That's nice, now please get off the bed, you're ass is gonna ruin it."

"Are you saying I have a fat ass?"

Whitney rolled her eyes and laughed. "No, I'm saying you'll wrinkle the sheets."

"How long have you been working?" Bret asked, completely ignoring her statement.

"A half hour, why?"

"You need a break, let's go get some ice cream."

"No."

Bret sighed. He got up, walked over to her and stood right in front of the little table. He hooked his thumbs into his belt buckle. Whitney thought he looked very dapper in that stance but quickly dismissed the thought.

"Alright, I'll make you a deal, if you get ice cream with me, I'll never bother you again." Bret said. "So what do you say, Sunshine?"

Whitney looked up at him. Maybe she did need a break and some company.

"Alright, but you have to buy me a chocolate flavored ice cream."

"Whatever you like." He said.

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

"One chocolate sundae for the journal girl." Bret handed her a glass bowl filled with chocolate ice cream covered in strawberry syrup, nuts and sprinkles. Whitney laughed

"What am i? A child?" She said, taking the sugary treat from his hand.

"No, but I picked it out just for you." Bret said.

"Thank you." Whitney said and took a bite from the ice cream.

"Now tell me something, what was it like to grow up as a Hart?"

"Are you gonna put that in your story?" Bret teased.

"I'm writing about your fathers promotion, not your biography." Whitney said. "Now answer my question."

"Well, it was tough but when you have eleven other siblings in the house it's a mess." Bret explained. "I remember beating a boy in a street fight once."

"Really? Who won."

"Me of course." Bret said. "I remember the kids hosting me up on their shoulders and celebrating."

"What is this? Rocky?" Whitney said.

"Nah, but I sure felt like him after that fight." Bret said. "What about you, were you one of the good girls in school?"

"Not really, I was kind of an awkward kid." Withney said. "However, i did egg a teacher's house once, just because she was a bitch but that's just basic stuff."

"Uh ooh, we got a badass over here." Bret teased.

"Oh shut up."

"Any highschool flings?"

Whitney raised her eyebrow. "You would like to know wouldn't you?"

"Hey, it's just a simple question."

"Alright, yes, but it only lasted a few months because he was a bit too imature." Whitney answered."What about you?"

"Nah, I was a saint." Bret said.

"That, Sir, is a complete lie."

"No it's true, I did kiss a few girls here and there but that's just it."

Whitney gave him a look.

"I'm not bullshitting you, I promise." Bret said.

"Alright, whatever you say." Whitney took another bite of her ice cream.

"Hey, we should check out that museum." Bret said. "Do you like art?"

"Of course, but I can't draw."

"I can watch this." He grabbed a napkin. "You got a pen."

Whitney went into her purse and grabbed a pen. She handed him the pen and he started drawing something. Whitney was confused.

"What are you doing?" She asked but Bret didn't answer. She watched as he drew a face, then a figure and then some hair. He then added the finishing touches and handed her the napkin. It was a cartoonish drawing of a couple. The man had a slightly big chin and an even bigger nose while the woman had a smaller chin and big teeth. Above them was written 'Helen and Stu'. Whitney laughed.

"That's amazing." She said. "You should become an animator."

"Nah, not really my thing." Bret said.

Maybe Bret wasn't such a bad guy, he was kind of annoying but he was super fun to talk to. But that did not mean she was gonna go on a date with him. Now way.

"We should go before." Bret said, looking at his watch. "Keep it, something to remind you of me."

"I'll frame it."

"Even better."

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Hi, hi, i tried to finish this chapter and i finally did it. Hope you like it. Shout out to sour grapes, that series is bussin. Anyways, my broskis i gotta bounce, bounce on your boys dick.

Alrighty, i'm out. Bye. ~thys❤

Tag list: @aritamargarita @rainchyna @diesel-pls-powerbomb-me

#bret hart #bret hart x oc

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littlesentences · 1 year

Text

12th of December prompt: Snowman

Life was a funny thing. The snowman had been sentient for the past few hours, but now he could see, hear, talk. And there was something in front of his face, pushing a different something into it.

He didn't know much, but he knew enough to stay perfectly still while the thing was directly in front of his face, lest he scare it away. He didn't know why, but that seemed like a bad idea. Especially since he now seemed to be able to breathe through the new thing in his face.

The thing that had put the thing in his face stepped back, a wide grin on their face. They seemed to be appraising him like he was some kind of artwork, and he did his best to remain still under the scrutiny. One of his arms twitched, involuntarily, but thankfully there was wind, and that covered up anything the thing might have seen.

Impossibly, the thing grinned wider and opened its mouth to reveal white, shining smaller things. He didn't have to see his own mouth know he didn't have those.

"MUM! DAD! COME LOOK!" the thing shrieked.

He tried not to cringe at the sound, and he liked to think he succeeded. Not that there would have been any immediate consequences, no one was looking at him at the moment.

Out of nowhere, two bigger things, of roughly the same shape as the smaller thing, stepped into his line of sight, and he immediately felt expendable. Like his existence in the universe meant nothing. He focused his attention on the three things.

"Oh wow, sweetie, that's amazing," one of the big things said, admiration in its voice. "It almost looks alive."

He had the distinct impression that he was an anomaly, like maybe he shouldn't exist. That the big thing was talking about him, and it didn't think he could hear.

The other big thing brought out some contraption from a bag. "Go stand by it, I want a picture of this."

He had no idea what a picture was, but the smaller thing rushed over to him, that huge grin on its face still shining, and it put its arm around him. It felt ... nice.

The big thing with the contraption knelt down in front of them and put it up to its face, presumably pointing it right at them. He tensed, waiting for whatever it was the contraption would do, and only received a flash. He resisted the urge to blink, aware that his arms were tense as he did. He supposed that was better than them being soft and pliant when anything came over to touch them. There was the feeling that his arms were supposed to be tense.

As quickly as the small thing ran over, it ran back to the big thing with the flashing contraption and looked into it before squealing in delight. How could such a small thing make so much noise?

"Alright darling, we've really gotta go home now, okay?" the big thing without the contraption said, brushing the smaller thing's hair away from its face.

"Okay," the small thing said. "Can I say goodbye to it?"

"Of course you can, darling."

And then the small thing was running at him again, arms wide open. He felt the compulsion to rush into them, but he couldn't move. He couldn't move.

The small thing wrapped its arms around him, and he found the act mildly relaxing, sinking into the feeling of the thing, clearly giving something. If only he could have returned it.

Then, the thing whispered, so the two big things behind it wouldn't hear, "This is just between us."

So the thing knew. It knew he was alive, and, as it unwrapped its arms from around him, it was going to leave him there. Unable to move his head, unable to walk around, staring straight ahead at the landscape that would never change.

He watched the things walk away, a sense of foreboding that they would be the only things he would ever see beyond the view he was to stare at for the rest of his life. He wanted ... he wanted to move.

If only the small thing had made him legs.

@the-modern-typewriter

#writing #mine #december prompts #oh look at that! dialogue!#i was stumped for this one. but im happy with it. im beginning to sense a theme.

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dine-on-nervine · 8 months

Text

I hate how Xkit doesn't completely work with the new Tumblr layout yet

Have you stayed up past 3 in the morning this week? No, but I have been up until 1 or so, so I would be tired enough to sleep through the night.

What was on the last sandwich you had? It was a Carl's Jr. Super Star minus tomato.

What does the soap you use smell like? Mandarin orange and (supposedly) cedar.

Do you prefer to wrap gifts or use gift bags? I like wrapping gifts but in the last few years have gone giftbag.

The last person you spoke to, do you know their eye color? I probably do, however I don't recall who the last person I spoke to was.

Does anyone you know have their hair bleached? Not at this moment.

When you're on the phone, do you doodle? I do not but my grandmother would.

Is there anyone you know by the name of Frank? Former nephew-in-law.

Do you own a trenchcoat? Yes. Actually an Australian duster.

Name the hardiest piece of technology you own? Since I collect some vintage technology I probably own a few things that qualify as hardy. Can't say offhand that I own a 1940s Royal typewriter, the kind that were thrown out of planes during the war and fucking bounced, but do have plenty of stuff that held up well.

Have you ever written with a pen that had pink ink? I have but not lately.

Do you remember the last thing you took a picture of? The back of a car with Washington license plate "WHAT".

From where you're sitting, can you turn the lights off? Technically possible, if I stretch and roll my chair a foot or two.

When was the last time you accidentally slept in? So I have an alarm on my phone for 8:40am to wake up and 9:25am to get out of the house. I forgot to set the first alarm last Thursday... and thus woke up with the second. Manged to throw myself through the shower and into clothes within 10 minutes so still got to work on time.

The last argument you had, who started it? No arguments come to mind. There would have been one if the fucking idiot in my office were aware how much mad shit I was talking about him for being a fucking idiot.

Do you wear a ring on your left hand middle finger? I don't wear rings.

Can you remember the title of the song you last sang aloud? I admit it was "Girl From Ipanema".

If a stranger smiles at you, do you smile back? Yes, I work in retail.

Tell me the current time? 12:46am

Are you currently listening to music through earphones? I am listening to Astrud Gilberto (singer of "Girl from Ipanema") crooning "So Nice" across my PC speakers.

What color shirt are you wearing? Is it your favorite color? It's kind of tan but that's not my favorite color.

Do you own a pair of rubber boots? No.

Have you ever owned a tire swing? I may have at one time.

Does anyone you know own a bird that can talk? Not presently.

What make-up are you wearing currently, if any? None. Straight male here.

Name one thing you are glad you accomplished today? Got the Romex shelf resorted, and got the entire Orgill delivery put away.

Name one thing you wished you accomplished today but didn't? I maybe could have labelled the drip pans, but that's for Saturday.

Have you ever been afraid to call someone, even if you knew them well? I take incoming calls without issue. I haaaaate making calls to people I don't know and half the time to people I do.

Do you ever not speak to someone because you're afraid you'll annoy them? Probably.

Is there any drama going on in your circle of friends? I know of none. My bestie doesn't have much drama, just the occasional redundant bullshit but it's not dramatic.

Have you ever known a guy who caused a lot of drama? Quite a few people.

Is there anyone you know who wears their hair in pigtails regularly? Nope.

Personally, do you think you have a nice smile? I'm not ashamed of it.

Do you have a nervous twitch? I don't think that's one of my issues.

Does the idea of snowpeaked mountains and a large lake sound appealing? I live in Western Washington so those things exist nearby.

Pick any number that has personal significance to you? 0.

Have you ever lost your luggage at an airport? No.

Have you ever been on a rollercoaster that actually scared you? Yes, but more from the "Jane, stop this crazy thing!" perspective... had a sore neck for a week.

Do you know anyone who can fluently speak more than two languages? Yes.

How many windows are open on your computer right now? One.

Do you have a fairly fast or slow internet connection? I think it's pretty fast.

Have you ever gone in a sauna? A few times.

Out of these colors, which appeals most to you: orange, blue, or green? Green.

Have you celebrated your birthday yet this year? In three weeks.

Is there anything you're saving up for? but damn Temu and Shein are taking all my money. << ikr? Well, Temu here. Anyhow, I am going on a trip to Canada day on Sunday.

Are you taller than most of your friends? A few of them.

Know anyone with a really annoying laugh? I am sure I do but I'm not recalling who.

Have you ever punched someone and broke their nose? I have not.

What is the longest time you have gone without sleep? A couple days.

Have you ever been someplace tropical? Not really.

If given the opportunity, would you act in a commercial? Not in front of the camera directly, but likely.

You see an ant on the ground, do you squish it? Nah, it's just doing its thing. On my wall, though... it's dead.

Have you ever baked a pie? Yes.

What is your favorite social networking site? Tumblr, duh. <<

Who was the last person to call you? Girlfriend

Does anyone in your family tell funny stories? My father does on occasion. My sister's stories kill me.

Do you believe in finders keepers in most situations? Not if you know who lost it.

Is there a war memorial where you live? Pretty sure of it.

Has anyone in your family fought in any of the wars? Dad was a Marine in 'Nam. He has never talked about it.

Would you make any changes to your current bedroom? Yes, getting a new one... larger and in a different house without dogs.

Has a stray dog ever tried to bite you? Of course.

When riding a bus, do you prefer to sit up front, down back or the middle? I will sit anywhere.

Have you ever been on a cross-country train ride? Nope.

Are you normally a person to tell people off? Noo, I'm not confrontational at all. <<

Name an object that most would consider odd that's special to you? The mint green Ansco pocket slide viewer.

What animal have you always wanted as a pet but couldn't have? I wanted a lizard as a kid... just a small one like a skink or something.

Do you currently have any bugbites? No bugs have bugged me this year.

Is where you live on a boulevard, road, street, or avenue? It's a cul de sac that is a "street South", and for some reason isn't on Google Maps... enter my address and it wants to go to the other side of the neighbor's fence to the "street court East".

Is there currently any caffeine in your system? I hope it's worn off in the last 14 hours, I am going to bed after I save this! Oh wait, that was morning coffee, I was drinking Cherry Coke at 8pm so... yes, I am caffienated. Meh.

Look around, are things organized? I say so but that's not how others would see it.

Know what you're planning to do after this? It's 1:13am so I'm going to bed.

#100 ?'s

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jplupine · 10 months

Text

Feral Possession: Chapter 13

Come be lonely with me

Pairing: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Wynter Hughes [Nonbinary OC] Word Count: ~3k WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, Exophilia, Demon!Grimmjow, Feral Behavior, Grimmjow being a Terror, Threats of Bodily Harm, Sexual Harassment

Summary: There's more development between the demon and rabbit.

You can also read it on AO3!

Masterlist | Chapter 13:

Closing the door behind me, I turned the locks before flipping through the mail. Half of it looked to be spam, a couple of bills, and one was a letter from an address I didn't recognize. Tucking the other envelopes under my arm as I walked up the stairs, I ripped it open. The letter looked like it was made using a typewriter, oddly enough.

I sighed through my nose when I saw it was from the Soul Society.

Then I rolled my eyes when I saw they referred to me as 'Pantera's keeper' rather than by my name. Reading through it, it seemed like a summons to become an officiated exorcist. They were offering resources and assistance, but with the wording, it was more like a contract to let them into my business.

There was even mention of my uncle seeing as he was a former member of the Soul Society. However, that didn't make me want to have anything to do with them. Sure, resources would be nice to better learn how to exorcise demons, but so far, Grimmjow's lessons were doing well enough. Then there were also the books in the office left by Uncle Jordan.

Folding the letter back up, I tucked it under my arm and grabbed a bill to open as I went into my room.

"Soul Society wants me to join them." I stated, and Grimmjow's face whipped in my direction.

"Fuck no."

"Relax, I didn't say I was going to." Waving him off, he sat up on my bed as I stood beside it. Checking the next bill, I glanced over it. "I know you hate exorcists, but is the Soul Society actually helpful? To humans, I mean. Obviously not helpful to your kind."

"Maybe." He had a tone, making me look up at him from over the letter. "I mean, they do save you pathetic mortals."

"Why didn't they save my uncle?"

"....He didn't tell them about me."

"Yeah, but why?" My brows furrowed as I looked back at the bill in my hands. "It doesn't make sense why he'd keep not only you being sealed here hidden, but also your name. Why would he leave the house, and you, to me to deal with? I'm not an exorcist, and you're an extremely powerful demon. That sounds like he was trying to set me up to die."

"Not if he knew how powerful you were."

"Which wouldn't do me any good not knowing how to use it." I pointed. "Yes, I'm smart, but that'll only get me so far. What was he thinking to do all this?"

"He might not have been thinking. Fucker was old as dirt."

"No, Uncle Jordan had to have a reason. I just don't know what it is yet. But that brings me back to what I asked. If the Soul Society is good for humanity, why would Uncle Jordan, as a member, keep you a secret from them? Even Ichigo said that sharing your name keeps them all safer, but he didn't even give them that." Grimmjow groaned as his shoulders slumped, and he rolled his eyes.

"Fuck the Soul Society, and fuck Kurosaki."

"Man, I knew you were a hornball, but damn. Don't you think that's a bit much?"

"Not like that, you ass!" The demon snarled, and I chuckled before he grabbed the front of my shirt. Grimmjow yanked me onto the bed and coiled around me like a snake. "Just shut up about them!"

"Is someone cranky? Do you need a nap?" I teased, but the demon tightened his hold with his arm around my neck.

"You're just asking to get killed, Little Rabbit." His fangs were right by my face in a warning, except....he froze when I looked at him.

"You made me drop my mail." I stated, but he was awfully quiet as his brows knit together. "What?"

"What?"

"You're making a weird face while staring at me, so what the fuck is it?"

"....The scar on your mouth. What's it from?"

"Oh." Reaching up, I gently touched the scar. "I actually don't really remember it much. I crashed my bike as a kid when a big dog ran out in front of me." I explained as Grimmjow's hold relaxed a bit. "That's all I remember until I woke up in the ER getting stitches."

"Are you sure it was a dog?"

"What?"

"Are you sure it was a dog?" He repeated, and I got what he was meaning. He kept making comments about how he was surprised I'd lived this long without being eaten by a demon.

"Actually, knowing what I do now, I'm not sure. From what I remember, it looked like a dog." I then quirked up a brow at Grimmjow. "Why are you so curious about it?"

"Just wondering why the little rabbit had a scar. Guess I wasn't the first to try and take a bite."

"That's only if it wasn't actually a dog."

"Mm."

"Okay, now what is it? You're still giving me that weird look."

"Wanna fuck?"

"No."

"Your loss."

"Oh, my- Just let me go already." I huffed while trying to pry myself free. It wasn't easy with his arms and legs wrapped around me combined with his demonic strength.

"No."

"Yes."

"No." Grimmjow began to chuckle at my failed efforts. "Look at the little rabbit struggle. I just might have a taste." His tongue ran over his sharp teeth.

"Piss off!" I snarled, but he ignored me and licked from my jaw to my forehead. "Gross!" I groaned, and it sent Grimmjow into a fit of laughter. It was a genuine laugh unlike his crazed hysterics when he was fighting other demons in the yard.

Why did he have to be so attractive?

"You're ridiculous." I scoffed while shaking my head.

"And you're delicious." Grimmjow smirked as he bumped his head against mine.

"Too bad. You're not even close to getting my soul."

"Yet."

"Keep on dreaming."

"We both know which outcome is more likely, Little Rabbit." Grimmjow purred. "That soul is mine. And I'm going to enjoy devouring it slowly just to savor the taste, and so you feel the agony of it."

"How nice of you." I said flatly while trying to ignore how he said something so daunting while purring with delight.

"Trust me, if you were me, you'd get it. The fucking scent of your power alone.... How it feels when you release that power. I want all of it. I want it so badly." His mouth was close to my throat now, and I wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't try to just bite me.

"Dude, chill. I can't tell if you're hungry or horny anymore." He paused before leaning his head back to look at me with a serious expression.

"It might be both."

"Might be?" I couldn't help but laugh. "Can you not even tell?" He suddenly grabbed my jaw to tilt my head back. Grimmjow licked up the side of my neck before I felt his breath on my ear.

"What's wrong with wanting both? Your body and soul, in the end, will both be mine." He purred while running a finger over my bottom lip. "Why not have some fun while you still can?"

"Because I'm not having sex with a demon that wants to literally rip me apart and eat my soul."

"So if I didn't want to do that, you would?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You're a demon."

"And? From how you're smelling, you really don't care about that."

"I'm not smelling like anything."

"Oh, you most certainly are, Little Rabbit. You're turned on. Why keep denying me when you clearly want me?"

"Unlike you, I'm not into fucking the enemy."

"Enemy?"

"I'm trying to kill you, remember? Or are you too brain-fried to remember that?" I popped off. "You also want to literally eat me. The doesn't exactly lead to bedroom fun. Well, not for me anyway since it does for you apparently."

"Then why do you keep getting turned on by me, Little Rabbit? Explain that."

"Because you're physically attractive, touching me, and saying things in reference to sex. It's just a physical reaction."

"Fine." The demon then kicked me off of the bed, and I hit the floor with a loud thump.

"Ow, what the fuck?!"

"If we're not fucking, then go make lunch, mortal."

"You don't even need to eat!"

"I want something to chew on." Grimmjow stated before grumbling something under his breath that I couldn't make out. Standing up, I saw he now had his face buried in a pillow while being stretched out over my bed. I was so tempted to flip the entire mattress to fling him off my bed, but I decided against it to not escalate things further.

Snatching my mail up, I looked at the demon again.

"Maybe you should try making your own damn food for once."

"Why do that when you're here?" His voice was muffled by the pillow, and I had the urge to strangle him. Huffing, I walked out of my room and went down the hallway.

"I'm trying to work, what do you want?" I asked without pausing my typing while Grimmjow was crouched on the desk and staring at me.

"What makes you think I want something?"

"You've been staring at me with a rather intense look on your face. So what is it?"

"I'm just thinking." He replied, and I paused.

"Thinking? About what?"

"....How I'm going to eat your soul." Rolling my eyes, I went back to looking at my laptop.

"How nice." My tone was thick with sarcasm.

"It is."

"Keep it to yourself. I don't want the details."

"Wasn't gonna give any." Grimmjow stated but didn't stop staring at me. I couldn't tell if he was genuinely doing it to plan my ending, or just to annoy me. Trying to ignore the demon, I continued to work.

Chopping up some vegetables for fajitas, the rhythmic thunking of the knife hitting the wooden board filled the kitchen. Music was also softly playing from my phone on the island to give me something to listen to.

Hands snaked around my torso as Grimmjow set his chin on my shoulder. Taking a quick glance at him, I saw he had a bored expression on his face and was watching me cut the vegetables. Looking back at what I was doing, I scooted what had already been chopped to a corner of the cutting board.

"Nothing on the TV again?"

"Yeah."

"You can read a book, you know."

"'S fucking boring."

"You can do chores."

"Fuck that."

"You're just a big man-baby." I scoffed. "Moody and won't even do dishes."

"There isn't even any dirty dishes."

"After dinner, there will be." I said, and the demon rolled his eyes. Grabbing a bell pepper, I began to cut it into thin slivers. Grimmjow grabbed one and sniffed at it before taking a bite.

The raw bell pepper crunched in his mouth, and I saw him reach for another piece.

"I need these for dinner, Grimmjow."

"Not all of 'em."

"Fine, you can have these." I slid a small pile to the side for him away from the rest. The demon continued to lean on me while munching on the bell pepper slices, and at one point he even began to softly purr. It was quiet and low, so I assumed he was simply content.

Thinking about it, it was both odd and to be expected how the demon was more....human, in a sense, than what that book made him out to be. There was clearly more to the Arrancar than just the drive for killing, and I knew that because of Grimmjow. He was considered the deadliest of them not because he was the strongest, he was just ranked sixth in the Espada, but because he was impulsive and didn't much care about what he tore apart. If it was in his path, he'd raze it to the ground.

But here he was, snacking on bell peppers while being cuddly.

The Arrancar came from human souls, so there had to be humanity still within them. But with their lifestyles and how long they lived as demons, it was difficult to see it.

Maybe if exorcists could appeal to the Arrancar's humanity....

No, that was doubtful. Too much of a longshot to even bother with. Just because Grimmjow wasn't ripping my throat out now didn't mean much considering how he literally couldn't. The same did not apply to the other Arrancar. Time and patience would be needed to dig out the humanity in these demons but that was impossible without such a special circumstance like I had.

But even so....I could use this chance to learn. If knowledge about Arrancar did make people safer, I'd learn what I could and pass it on.

"Dagur better be in the same condition as he is now when I come back, do you understand me?" I looked at Grimmjow with a stern expression while picking up my keys.

"Just stay here if you're so worried about it then."

"No can do." I bent down to pull my shoes on. "Even if I don't become a part of the Soul Society, I still have to fill out stupid paperwork listing me as an active exorcist."

"Why the fuck do you have to do that?"

"To keep from getting arrested by their justice force. If I'm at least registered, they can't charge me with interference." Standing up, I looked at Grimmjow again as he was standing just a few feet away. "You know where everything is, so you should be fine. I shouldn't be gone long."

"Just don't go." He made a face while crossing his arms. "They're just a bunch of stupid exorcists."

"A bunch of stupid exorcists with authority." Unlocking the door, I went to open it, but the demon forced the door closed. Sighing, I looked over my shoulder while Grimmjow kept his hand planted on the door. "I gotta go, come on. Throw your tantrum later."

"I'm not throwing a tantrum." He snarled.

"Look, I get you hate them, but I'd rather not get arrested."

"Don't go."

"Grimmjow-" I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Don't leave me!" There was a shift in his tone, and I looked at him. "....Don't leave me here. You're not safe without me." He cleared his throat.

"Oh. Right." Going under his arm, I quickly fetched my sword. "Look, I'll take this then. I'll be right back, so there's no need to freak out." I chuckled while raising the sheathed katana. "Now, I gotta go. So move it." Gesturing with my head, the demon's nose twitched up in a snarl.

He really didn't want me going to the Soul Society office.

"Grimmjow, sit."

"Wynter! You shit!"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'll be right back? As soon as I'm done, I'll be coming home. Just don't destroy my house." I sighed before going out the door.

"First name?" The man behind the desk asked as he sat in front of a computer.

"Wynter."

"Your real name."

"Wynter." I repeated with a nod. He had an unamused expression while looking at me.

"Legal name."

"Wynter." He sighed.

"The name on your birth certificate."

"My name is Wynter, you ass. Is and always has been. Just fucking type in W-Y-N-T-E-R and you'll find me, dickhead." The woman on the other side of the man snorted while turning her face away.

"I'm going to need to see some ID."

"I fucking swear." I grumbled while pulling out my wallet as I tucked my sword under my arm. Taking out my ID, I handed it to the man.

"....Wynter Hughes."

"Now hurry up, I don't want to be here longer than I have to be." He began to type my name into the computer before handing back my ID. Pocketing it, he found me in the system and handed me a Visitor badge.

"Registration is on the second floor, room 209. It'll be on your left as you come out of the elevator."

"Right. Have a shitty day." I waved my hand while walking away from the desk. Finding the elevators, I pushed the button for the second floor. Going to room 209, I entered and saw it was set up like a small office.

"Excuse me, weapons aren't allowed in here. Please dematerialize your sword." The woman at the desk politely said.

"Yeah, I'm not doing that." She raised her brows at me, and I quickly raised my hand. "Oh, right, no. I don't mean that to be rude, just....uh.... It's not safe for me to do that. This weapon was forged with Pantera's energy, so....yeah, no. Not putting that in me." I explained, and everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to look at me.

"....You're Pantera's keeper?" The woman questioned.

"If that's what you want to call it. Guess word travels fast here."

"You're here to join the Soul Society?" Her eyes lit up with what looked like excitement, and she began to gather up paperwork.

"No. Just registering as an active exorcist."

"....Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"We can offer 'round the clock assistance with Pantera. We have specialized units for keeping demons sealed."

"....He's not sealed."

"I'm sorry?"

"He's not sealed. So I don't need those units."

"Then how do you have him under control? Where is he?"

"He's bound to my property, and I'm not sure Pantera is ever under control." I replied while taking the paperwork she held out to me on a clipboard. "Moody ass son-of-a-bitch." I muttered lowly while plucking up a pen from the cup.

#Feral Possession #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #bleach #bleach au #bleach fanfic #nonbinary character #demon/exorcist au #oc x canon #orange #minors dni #Wolf does fanfic

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soupbabe · 2 years

Note

could i request a reverse ruby sparks set up? : ) where calvin winds up in ruby’s position and the reader winds up able to control him through writing? i understand if you’d rather not write that though, disregard this in that case!

Full Circle (Post Movie! Calvin Weir-fields x Reader)

Reader buys a second-hand typewriter and accidentally manifests it's original owner.

I'm obsessed with this idea omg,,hope you're okay w the weird spin I took on it 😅 I feel like the magic typewriter thing is something so overlooked in the movie

Many emotions were going through Calvin's head as he woke up in a home that wasn't his own, a bed that wasn't his own. He didn't remember going out the night before, let alone meeting someone. Wearily, he removed the covers and made his way around your bedroom. A vague sense of familiarity came over him as he observed the array of framed photos you had scattered across your room, your walls decorated with pictures of you with friends or family.

He couldn't explain it, but he felt a strange fondness for this stranger.

Calvin cursed himself for the thought and soon took his investigation outside your bedroom. The silence within the house giving him more confidence to explore various rooms. But as he walked down the hallway, he heard the familiar click of a typewriter grow as he neared your office. His breath was caught in his throat as he peered through the doorway, seeing you type away on his old typewriter.

"What the fuck.." Calvin muttered to himself, the gears in his head turning immediately. He should've paid attention when Harry threw it in a box to go to a thrift store.

His sentiment didn't go unheard though, causing you two to make eye contact. Both of you were like deer in headlights, unsure of what to do with the stranger in front of you. After minutes of stunned silence, you took a double take at your writing and the man in front of you. Down to his anxious demeanor and slightly disheveled clothes, he looked exactly like the man you were writing about. It didn't take much for Calvin to see the realization you were making, he's been in this situation before.

Though he would never think he would be in Ruby's position.

There were many odd things that Calvin felt at the hand of the typewriter's influence. On one hand, he had his own natural feelings, that of panic and dread for the situation he was in, but there was also the ones created by the writing device: a yearn to be by your side, indulge in your interests, and provide for you. He knew he's never seen you before, but he already knows how much he loves the way your name rolls off his tongue.

The stand-off was cut off by you, in disbelief. You felt stupid as you called Calvin by his name, testing if the what-was-thought-to-be-fictional man was real, but he nodded and stepped closer to you and the typewriter. "You have to listen to me, Y/n. You can't use that typewriter, it does horrible things to people." At every step he took forward, you took a step back. "What're you talking about? How do you know my name?" You tried to keep your composure, but it was so much was happening in such a small amount of time.

"It sounds ridiculous, I know, but you have to believe me. That typewriter brings people together- think about them too much and you might just manifest them into your life. You wrote about me and now I know everything you want me to know about you and you know everything about me." Calvin spoke in a low tone, his face devoid of any ounce of humor. You made your way around your desk, eyes still trained on him.

"I'm so sorry I did this to you..." Your statement snowballed into a ramble. "I didn't know this would happen, oh my god.." Calvin was soon overcome with a need to comfort you, the polar opposite emotions of his own and the typewriter's influence blending into one. Calvin's warm hands laid on top of your own, aware to not push boundaries. " You're fine, Y/n. You wouldn't have known this would happen. I know I didn't when something similar happened to me.." He broke off with a short but sweet half-assed laugh, "You're even taking it way better than I did, actually."

Calvin felt you relax at his touch. At this point, he already accepted the role he was put into, a feeling of hope bubbling within his chest. If he was able to give into Ruby that quick, then why can't he with you? After all, you've wanted someone like him so much the universe answered your prayers and brought him to you. He thinks of himself as better than before, he can treat you right.

As the possible scenerios and futures with you become endless, Calvin isn't as fearful of the typewriter as he once was.

#ruby sparks x reader #ruby sparks #ruby sparks 2012 #calvin weir fields x reader #calvin weir fields #paul dano x reader #paul dano #danonation

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monodipita · 3 years

Text

pairing: yandere!norton x gender neutral!reader

words: 5,335

warnings: yandere content, gaslighting

a/n: this is a recreation of my norton x reader one-shot on AO3, which i've linked so you can draw comparisons. i'm glad that i made the touchups <3 i love my nortty boy

The Eversleeping Town was a beautiful realm that paid homage to the deceptive Michiko. It was the most human-looking realm the Baron could've put you in where beauty, albeit somber beauty, surrounded you in every direction. The sky was a dark shade of gray and shadowed each building in the pale, fabricated moonlight that hung high above your head.

The air was thick with tension and fear, the norm for realms created by the Baron, whose only enjoyment was derived from watching you and the thirty other people who were forced to coexist with you suffer at the hands of the hunters he so-called employed to kill you.

You arrived as your conscience was told to do by the Baron in the harrowing graveyard of the Eversleeping Town. Shades of grey surrounded you, from the twilight sky to the darkened earth under your boot. Moonlight poured over the gravestones that surrounded you, giving them an unearthly hue that was almost green - like it was something straight out of a cruddy horror movie that would see the corpses 6 feet under rise up to cause a stir. Such a sight would've bothered you if this was your first rodeo at the manor, but it wasn't. Each realm the Baron placed you in had its own dark backstory, even if the area surrounding you was beautiful.

The manor itself was the only place that scared you now, where parts of it remained unexplored because people were fearful of what would happen to them if they wandered far from the growing flock. No one knew what would happen, but no one was brave enough to find out either. It was best to accept your fate and keep going. You, too, were accustomed to this fact and had become very accustomed to it rather quickly.

Your eyes fell on a cipher machine after walking around this eerie little graveyard. A nifty little typewriter propped up on a box with an electrical antenna protruding from the backside to alert you and the hunter as to how much progress was completed on it, also known as the sole way to leave this place. "I can do this." You tell yourself as you walk up to the machine. "All I need to do is stay hidden, and the hunter will never know I'm here." It was best to begin as soon as possible, even without knowing the location of the hunter. The more progress on a cipher machine, the better.

Time slowly began to tick away, and each movement you made felt more rushed than the other. The tones of typing away on the typewriter to decipher the Baron's ramblings bore a monotone melody. It had been a total of two minutes since you emerged in this realm, but you couldn't hear a single scream, and you knew that the hunter didn't make a single stop through this part of the map. Just what was going on?

"[Y/N]! Over here!"

It was a voice you almost missed under the sounds of the roaring cipher machine, only your head turning in that direction barely caught the whispers that came your way. Your eyes connect with the horizon over the gravestones to see Norton running toward you.

"Norton?" You whispered. For some reason, you felt disbelief after trying those words on your lips, but no, it truly was Norton running toward you. His blue eyes were dull and missed that sparkle.

Enter the young and lighthearted, introverted prospector with a rough exterior and soft interior. For quite some time the two of you bonded under strange circumstances, such as coming under the moonlight in the garden at the manor, and silently appreciating the almost lifelike fabrication of the outside the Baron put in place for the survivors around the manor together. You didn't really talk very much, but when you did, the conversations almost felt magical. Norton revealed himself to be a fairly intellectual individual well-versed on the outside and geology, something you were interested in as a child and only dabbled in when you could when you were a teenager. The way he spoke about stuff he knew almost made you feel like a child again, only because he made you feel so excited to know whatever else he was going to tell you. He could make something up and you would believe it to its fullest potential, up until he told you that it wasn't real - that's how fond you were of the conversations with him.

You took your hands off of the cipher machine when you believed there was a window of opportunity to stop and turn to the man who knelt before you. "What's wrong?" You asked as you head to his side. His head tilted in every which direction you allowed it to, with his onyx black locks sprawling between your fingers. "The Ripper fucked me up." Norton chuckled wryly, a small smile plastered on his stoic lips. There wasn't even a single hint of pain in his voice, only a rasp from the physical pain. He was hardened by what happened to him in a way that you could never be. In a way, it hurt to know that there was a worse pain out there than what he was currently experiencing now, even if he wasn't physically experiencing the said pain.

Looking at him now in what little light was provided by the deathly green hue of the gravestones surrounding you, you could see now that he was heavily injured. Wounds in the form of slashes littered his skin, but it was his back that was the worst affected, with little spirals of mist permeating off them. All evidence indeed pointed to that tall, perverse, lanky masked figure with real claws for hands. "W-we need to get you patched up. We can't do it here though, I need to be able to see what I'm doing." You said, the worry evident on your features.

"Fair," he mumbled to himself as he slotted himself into your arm, picking himself up with your help and bringing himself to a slow stand. "Alright, ready."

Your walk with him was a long one, across the train tracks, to the house that allowed you to walk up without any trouble. Each breath taken, and every step taken was a slow and painstaking one to reach the finish line. . . so far so good when it came to sightings of the Ripper, but you knew to keep your breath bated; the man you two spoke of was literally made out of a type of material very similar to mist, so it was nearly impossible to see him or hear him creep up on you until it was too late.

"I think we'll be safe here." He grunted.

You dropped him off inside the small upstairs apartment after brushing the tapestry aside to step in. Helping Norton onto the ground was no problem - next to the window, so that the stale air from the house didn't get to him. From up here, everything looked beautiful. You couldn't help but be awestruck while Norton's pained wheezes filled the air, only looking down to him when he spoke. "Do you know how to use that first-aid kit of yours, [Y/N]?" Norton asked as he whipped his head around to look at you, stunning you with that beautiful gaze of his. You gripped at the first-aid kit nervously while you thought of a good answer, feeling your palms become slick with perforation. Did you really want to admit that you didn't when he needed to be healed before Jack found him?

"N-no." You admit it. No sense in holding it back. . . it was a syringe for fuck's sake, wouldn't anyone but Ms. Dyer be afraid of handling this? "I'm sorry!" You whimpered.

"Heh, it's alright. I'm gonna try and tend to the obvious wounds first. Watch carefully and try not to miss any details so you can tend to my back." A pained smirk painted Norton's features as he took the first-aid kit from your hands and turned away from you.

The rest of the match went smoothly. You had to hand it to Mike, the acrobat definitely knew how to use his feet. He only got hit once during that entire match while the others worked away at the cipher machines that needed decoding - what this repetitive process was needed for was something very unclear to you, but you didn't mind doing it now, as opposed to before when the mind-boggling situation presented itself to you as something new. You stuck by Norton the entire match, just making sure that he was okay. If there was anything he needed, you were there for him.

When each match ended, declared by only opening the exit gate and watching as The Ripper's image disappeared into the background; you were free to walk back to the manor through the exit gate if you were spared from the rocket chair.

Unfortunately, Naib had been chaired and sent back to the manor earlier, so there were only the three of you free to walk back to the manor on your own. Woods surrounded you on either side to force your attention on the road ahead - as wandering probably wasn't a good idea, to begin with, but it was nice. The autumn air felt good on your skin that felt hot from all the running you did.

"You handled that pretty well. I'd love to be able to learn some of your tricks sometime!" You congratulated Mike as the four of you headed back toward the manor from the exit gate, a happy smile on your face as you spoke so cheerfully.

"Ah, it was nothing [Y/N], but thank you for the compliment. I'm used to doing all types of dangerous stunts and stuff, so I'm okay with doing it in front of the hunter. I could teach you, but it would take a while." He rubbed the back of his neck with a soft chuckle.

"That would be so cool!" Your grin spread wider across your lips, practically beaming at the thought of being able to perform all of those stunts without any issue. . . of course, there was always the lingering threat of hurting yourself and possibly crippling yourself while performing those stunts, but what was the worst that could happen in the Baron's manor? Nothing here made sense - it would be cool to train yourself to learn something different, after all.

You could hear a grunt leave Norton's lips as he walked beside you, causing you to turn your head and look over at him in slight worry. Was something wrong? "Are you okay, Norton? Do you need anything?" You asked.

"One of my bandages came undone on my back. I'll need you to redo them." Norton seemed to look a little worse for wear, come to think of it. His fair skin assumed a pallor hue, and there was a bead of sweat rolling off his brow. What a surprise - that syringe hardly did the work Ms. Dyer claimed it could do. How did anyone feel safe using them? "Of course, Norton," you turned toward him and stopped your movements. "We can take care of them right here if you need them redone." The urgency in your tone would suggest that you seemed afraid of the consequences of dallying - at first, Norton seemed hesitant to stop, you could tell by his slow-halting movements. But, he ultimately talked some much-needed sense into you. What if Jack came for you three like this?

It was unheard of - but not entirely out of the question for the hunter to continue pursuing their targets beyond the Baron's influence, of course.

"I don't think this is a very good spot. We should do it when we get back, I can tough it out. We don't need to risk bumping into anyone or anything because we lagged behind." He mumbled, gently leaning into your shoulder and resting his head against it - just narrowly missing you with that snuffed candle that had been blown out by the autumnal winds that breezed through the area. Your cheeks went red by the sensation - it nearly took you by a storm when studying his handsome features, but you knew better than to react. Instead, you turned your head to hide the blush spreading across your features. No need for anyone to see something so embarrassing. . . "Y-yeah, that's fine, I just figured the sooner, the better," you try to reason, "but that seems kinda dumb. I'm sorry."

He chuckled and shook his head, "it's fine. It's cold out here compared to the actual places we go to, so I figured doing it in a safer and more comfortable environment would be best." Right. You felt embarrassed for not thinking about it that way.

The rest of the walk to the manor was in complete silence between the three of you. Once the manor was in clear view, you could feel relief filling your senses. There didn't have to be any more awkward silence, and once you were finished with patching up Norton, you were free to do whatever you wanted until you were whisked away yet again to the Baron's many realms set-up for his morbid amusement.

"Bye Mike!" You wave to him with a friendly smile on your face as you parted from him by Norton's side. The hallways inside the manor were small, so it was necessary for you to bunch closer to him. Turning your head to see Norton beside you, you happened to take notice of the expression he currently carried - he looked solemn. "Is something wrong?" You ask him with a frown on your face. "Are your wounds bothering you? Should we hurry up?"

". . .yeah," Norton looked away from you as you approached the door to his bedroom. He shared the cozy space with the Boy, whom no one knew much of, but you were more than sure that he was a delicate joy to be around. You didn't want to waste any time. "Alright, Norton, let's take a look at those wounds,"

Going into the room felt weird, but you forced yourself to. It was just. . . for some reason, the tension in the room felt so high that it was almost awkward. Almost. You couldn't exactly pinpoint what the cause was, but you weren't going to let your feelings get in the way of doing something more important, such as taking care of Norton's wounds.

Norton positioned himself on the bed and pulled his shirt off as he'd done before - yet, you were still taken back by that move, your cheeks dusted a pink by the sight. Norton was, undeniably, an attractive man with a personality that was a bit rough on the edges, but still a man that you would want to pursue in a relationship no less. You're reading into it too much!

You snapped out of your thoughts and blinked away any lingering feeling, culling your expression to a blank, relaxed face. You pulled your bag off of your back and walked over to the bed in the room, placing it down and pulling the actual medkit you carried on you out of its confined space. You glanced over at Norton, who looked at you with an expectant expression. You squeezed the medkit tightly between your fingers when you heard a question be asked to you. "Something wrong, [Y/N]?" He asked in a casual voice.

It reminded you that he might not think about you in the same way you think about him.

"Mm. . ." you hummed while you tried to think of a decent cover-up. While you thought hopelessly, he pulled the mining cap off of his head to feel more comfortable, exposing that bushy black mane on his head. Immediately after, you could see him loosen his tan scarf and tug it away from his neck - oh, he was stripping. How embarrassing. This was his room after all. You couldn't even help but feel a small blush spread across your features when you realized the fact. Could he have gotten any more handsome than he was now??

"N-nothing." You found yourself responding while shaking your head. Walking over to the bed, you walked around to see his clothed back. His clothes were slashed to pieces, exposing his skin, with crimson blots making the dusty fabric look nearly black. The wounds weren't necessarily deep, but they still needed to be treated. Luckily, you knew how to use this medkit - not whatever the hell Ms. Dyer had. "Here, let me help you pull it up,"

Your hands dropped the medkit and instead peeled the yellowing suspenders off his broad shoulders. He did the rest of the work, promptly pulling that shirt over and off his head like it wasn't anything, much to your surprise. "T-that works too." You uttered softly. Back to work.

Norton gently grabbed your hand as it went to open the medkit, much to your alarm. You could feel the callouses on them from all of his years of hard work inside the mine that ultimately caused him to suffer.

It was warm to the touch, almost like how you felt now. Your eyes went a little wide with surprise, your head swam with infinite possibilities as to what would be the outcome of this simple gesture. Was he going to kiss you, was he going to break your hand, was he going to kill you, or was he going to drop down on one knee and propose to you? The possibilities were too limitless. You couldn't even feel the hand he grabbed anymore. Your head felt a tad bit light from the overwhelming feeling of infatuation.

All he had to say were three simple but powerful words. "Come here, [Y/N]."

It was a flash of a moment. You were lured into Norton's arms and you could feel yourself wanting to be here forever. "Norton. . ?”

Being in his arms was the most romantic feeling you've felt since ... ever. There was comfort in resting in these muscled arms of his, because there was a feeling described there that you could only recall when you were younger. The love, though he ill described or expressed the feeling, felt real, genuine, and unparalleled by anything you'd experienced before—this wasn't some high school crush, this was a man who was marred by the harsh realities that surrounded him, now coming to you with a love that was pulled through the muck of despair by your hands. Real love. The words sounded so foreign when you listened to them in your head, but it wasn't an unwelcome feeling, you wanted to embrace it as much as you wanted to embrace him.

"It’s been hard for me since I came to the manor, but I think you've really turned things on their head [Y/N]. What I'm trying to say is... I think you've made people happier since you've arrived. You've got a real knack for getting into people's hearts, you've made a home in mine." He chuckled and squeezed your body taut against his. "And I'm happy. It took me a long time to piece that sentence together, but I’ve finally managed—I'm so happy that you're here. This is the first, genuine connection I've felt in a very long time, and it's the happiest I've been in years.”

The words he spoke were breathtaking only because you couldn't imagine him saying words like this. He was closed off from the world and unable to process his emotions clearly without frustration, but they spilled out like honey from a tree. Perfect, raw, and sweet, depending on who you asked. But more importantly, these were coming from someone you had feelings for—and they reciprocated what you felt. He had feelings for you. He was in love with you as you were with him.

Your lips pressed against his, and you held it with light excitement and mixed peace. Peace, you could finally rest now, knowing that he was equally as infatuated with you. It wasn't a deep kiss but it wasn't a light kiss either, it was a perfect mix of the in-between. You squeezed his hardened hands and gently pulled away from him, staring into his glazed-over eyes with a smile creeping onto your face. “I love you,” you tell him, as relief swells in your heavy heart.

". . .”

He couldn’t say it back—that was fine; he didn’t have to say it back. All he needed to know was that you held feelings for him.

Time never passed by so quickly in the manor, only because you were spending so much of it with Norton. In this time you got to learn who he was and why he went into the prospecting business, what happened once he came out of the mine, how he survived the explosion, and how he got here, who he liked and who he didn't like. . . it was all so much information to absorb that you were left feeling like you were part of him, but you knew better than to become more involved with him than you were now.

You were merely his significant other, not his family, not a fragment of him. He was an interesting individual, though, and you had no qualms with sharing information about yourself—given he never shared this information with anyone else, and only you were privy to the information he gave.

You were special in his eyes. He was special in yours. You loved every single inch of him from head-to-toe. There was no one else you wanted to be with more in this world right now than with Norton. Though, you couldn’t recognize the signs that came with being his significant other.

"I don't want to see you with them anymore."

"They're all lying to you. They don't want us to be together."

"I don't want you to hang out with them."

"You can't trust them, they'll just abandon you. I've only ever been the one to stick around you."

"I'm the only one who knows you, [Y/N]. They could never know you like I do."

Your daydream of the perfect relationship was haplessly shattered when you remembered such bitter words leaving his lips. You cringed slightly, realizing your surroundings were none other than his bedroom. The boy moved out, you moved in, and now here you were, staring at these four walls. A soft sigh left your lips.

How could you forget? Even if Norton seemed so perfect, he had his undeniable flaws, being clingy and controlling was one of them.

He was like smoke, he smothered everything he touched, and he'd leave his mark wherever he went; you experienced this firsthand with that raw hickey that was on your collarbone that throbbed every time you remembered it was there. He kept to himself because he kept things to himself, and you were one of those things. You were his.

This rare and sudden change of behavior did come after one of the other inhabitants of the manor actually let you get hit by none other than Joseph Desaulnier. He seemed to let all trust of others go out of the window, and you understood, only to the healthy extent of those words which were not very healthy at all. HE couldn't deny you the presence of people you wanted to be around, it wasn't fair to you!

So what were you doing about it? You were trying to break it down. You only accredited his clinginess to the fact that he was the sole survivor of the mining incident he was apart of, and therefore, he coped by clinging to others. But you were wrong in the assessment, because it was far from true; Norton despised being around others and only wanted to be in your presence, only wanted your attention, and didn't exactly care what anyone else thought of him. With no clear end to his distasteful behavior, you hoped that Helena could provide an answer for you - late at night, when no one else was awake. Though this time of meeting was impractical and had a 40% chance of actually working when it came to Norton and his attentiveness, you had no other choice.

Meeting with Helena was going to be . . . dangerous. Who knew what was waiting for those who ventured out of their bedrooms at night? And even moreso, when there was a chance that you'd be busted by being in the wrong place, with the wrong person? Your original roommate was the dashing Patricia. . . but . . . now it was Norton. And being outside of your room at night must've spelled innumerable and unspeakable consequences - the Baron was particularly unforgiving. You'd have to sneak out of this room, into Helena's. . . and goodness, you've completely forgotten where the hell her room was at anyway.

After some heavy weighing, you lifted yourself up and slowly brought yourself out of the mildly uncomfortable bed. It was better to risk the consequences for the longterm.

It was nighttime, the light from the fabricated moon poured in through the large window that overlooked your new bedroom, peeking out from under the blinds and curtains. It didn't bring much light to the room, but it reminded you that it was indeed late. You turned your head and looked over the room, spotting nothing out of the ordinary. A dull lantern light provided enough illumination to show you where the door and the bathroom door were at, but not much else. You couldn't see Norton's face, but judging by the lump in the bed, he must've been sleeping.

"Where are you going, [Y/N]?" His voice rang through your ears, giving you a shock. You promptly turned your entire body to face the bed, and you were met with the sight of Norton's bushy, black mane peeking out from underneath the covers, with his sparkling blue eyes peering out at you. He was tired, physically exhausted after running a marathon for the success of his teammates. You gave him a small smile, one that concealed the feelings of uncertainty you held underneath. "I'm going to get a snack, just to see if they'll let me." You told him.

"Oh," Norton sounded relieved as he sat up. His bandage-bound chest was still a sight that you weren't used to. . . gah, he was so handsome! "Do you want me to go with you then, or are you just fine with getting me something to snack on too?" He was tired out of his mind, and probably didn't understand just how outrageous his request sounded. You could definitely manipulate this to your advantage. . .

"I'm fine with just getting you something," you uttered. The foreign feeling welled up in your chest. You hated this idea; you hated the idea of lying to him, and yet, you were forcing yourself to now. You could feel yourself beginning to trek over to the bedroom door with slow steps, only to feel your left wrist be snagged between his calloused fingers. His eyes looked up at you. "You're going to get snacks, right?"

"Y-yes," you meekly responded, finding yourself looking at your feet, covered by slippers the Baron provided. He was onto you, you could tell.

". . .alright," Norton gently let go of your wrist. "I'll wait by the door then to help you get back to the bedroom." He said, prompting you to shake your head. "That won't be necessary," you quickly answered him, "I know my way back to the bedroom. . ."

"So why do I feel like you're lying to me then?" He asked.

Oh God. "I-I'm not," you stammered, making your way over to the door. Just as you opened it, Norton's hand came out of nowhere, and slammed it shut. His left hand revealed itself to you, heavily marred with burn scars - something you didn't see often because he wore protective gloves. It was a bit jarring to see, if anything, because it was a side of him that you'd never seen before. "[Y/N], we're too fucking old to be playing these games. I know you can't leave this room at night,"

He grabbed your shoulder with his right hand and gripped it taut, forcing you to turn and look him in the eye. Your own hues were wide with anxiety - this wasn't how you were expecting this to go at all! B-but you didn't really know what to expect, if you were being honest. . . you just weren't expecting him to behave like this! "Norton!" You whispered out of surprise. "Please, I'm just trying to leave the room and get some fresh air!"

"As if I'm supposed to believe that shit," Norton's arms scooped around you and pried your body from the door, much to your chagrin. You were pulled further into the room and hoisted onto the bed—your butt connected perfectly with the lush bed blankets, as a testament to how good Norton was with his upper-body coordination. "You're hiding something from me," he put his hands on his hips, "and I'm not about to take some wack ass answer. You better get to talking, or neither of us are about to sleep tonight." He growled in an ominous tone. You pursed your lips, as a wash of rage and fear poured over you.

You needed to say something. "N-norton, I need to know something,"

"Oh? Sure," Norton relaxed. "If that's all you had to do, I'm not sure why you had to go through so many loopholes to do it." He folded his arms over his chest, "ask me anything,"

You stared at him in disbelief, unsure of what to say. . . there was so much going through your mind at that moment that you were entirely unsure if you could even get it out. It felt. . . wrong. "I just wanted to know why you. . . love me so much." Chickened out again. You were internally frustrated with what you said, but there was no going back. You could only hope that there was some truth in what he told you.

"You're the only person I have in this place," Norton sat down on the bed to be at your side. His right arm wrapped around your waist, and he pulled you into his bulky form, making your cheeks redden again. "The only person I will ever want to have by my side, too. There's no one else who can make me feel the way you do—like there's purpose behind everything in this fucking hellhole. I'm determined to keep you. . . I can't ever lose you. That's why I said I didn't want you around the others, you know? They let you get hurt, [Y/N]. I don't want you to suffer because of anyone else, baby. It ain't right," He pulled you in for an embrace and rested his head on your shoulder, like he had done that very night. It felt nostalgic, and you couldn't deny the power that was behind it. "Norton," you breathed.

"I think the world of you. That's why it's important to keep you safe, and the only way I can keep you safe is if you're by my side at all times. It hurts me too much to know that there are fucked people in this manor that are willing to throw you under the bus for their own personal gain when you're worth so much more than they could ever be." It was gaslighting at its finest. You could only take these words with a grain of salt. In a way, it made sense. In other ways, he sounded like a madman. It seemed like you couldn't tell the difference anymore.

"Oh, Norton..." you breathed as you leaned in to his embrace, nuzzling your face into his neck as you spoke sincere words, "I'm so sorry that I ever doubted your reasoning, Norton. I understand completely."

A smirk spread across Norton's face as he reined you in tighter. "Of course you understand, [Y/N], that's why you're mine."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere norton #norton campbell #idv #idv x reader #norton x reader #norton campbell x reader #identity v #identity v x reader #yandere x you #gender neutral insert #reader insert

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creweemmaeec11 · 3 years

Text

My Demonic Lullaby

A hero x demon snippet partly inspired by both @the-modern-typewriter and @amethystpath-writes hero and demon snippets. This idea actually predates my sleep paralysis snippet, but I never got around to writing it till their snippets got me back on the hero x demon train 😂 Next part to follow soon hopefully!

Insomnia really sucked, Ellory decided. He was already *exhausted* from the fight with one of the cities top villains earlier that day. He was aching all over, his head was throbbing, it was already 3am and yet he *still* couldn't fall asleep.

The hero rolled over onto his back with a groan, both from annoyance and the pain of moving. His ribs ached, still, open cuts stung. His hands came up to rub his face and eyes.

"What I wouldn't give to be able to sleep like a normal person," Ellory mumbled under his breath.

He closed his eyes, flipped his pillow for the * fourth* time that night, and thunked his head back down to the bed.

"Seriously," he muttered to the empty air, "what is it going to cost for me to sleep?"

Ellory had asked the question more to himself, as if asking his brain what he had to do to finally get the rest he so desperately craved.

He wasn't expecting an *actual* answer.

"Need some help?" a low and smooth voice asked from what sounded like the corner of the room.

Ellory tried to snap his head in the direction of the voice, only to be unimpressed by the fact he couldn't move.

"*Oh you have GOT to be kidding me*" Ellory mentally groaned, "*I ask to sleep and what do I get? Sleep paralysis, and even a disembodied voice hallucination to go with it!*"

Suddenly the voice chuckled, "Not quite,"

Now, the hero wasn't new to sleep paralysis. He didn't get it often, but every now and then it would creep its way in. This was the first time it had ever happened *before* going to sleep though. It was also the first time he'd ever hallucinated.

Ellory knew that there were others who had crazy hallucinations, even knew one hero who said they got them almost every night. (Even though they gave Ellory a weird look when they said they'd been getting better recently) Luckily for him though, prior to tonight, the worst he'd ever seen was a shadow or two.

His eyes turned, glancing over as best he could to the corner of his room. Despite the darkness, he could see some vaguely human-shaped swirling shadow. The only way he could make it out at all was because it was somehow even *darker* than the shadows around it.

Luckily, the shadow was just kind of standing there, and despite what his other hero friend had said, it didn't look very scary...

The hero mentally sighed again, letting his eyes slip closed. He was *so* tired. Why couldn't he just sleep?!

"That would probably be the insomnia," the voice stated sarcastically.

"*Thank you captain obvious,*" the hero mentally retorted, before stopping, "*great, now I am literally having a conversation with myself. Maybe villain DID hit me in the head too hard today,"*

The disembodied voice snickered again. Though highly amused, it wasn't mocking or unkind.

"No, you're head is fine. But you never answered my question," the shadow-thing said, its vague shape shifting over, more into Ellory's sight.

Whatever hallucination his brain had come up with didn't seem to be going away any time soon.

"*And that was?*" the hero replied. He had nothing better to do than to just amuse... well, himself; he supposed.

"Would you like some help sleeping?"

"*I would LIKE to be asleep already! And real sleeping, not this nonsense,*"

"I can help," the voice offered, seemingly as the shape took a step forward.

"*Oh I'm sure you can*" the hero replied sarcastically, "*If so, then why aren't you?*"

"You need to say yes for us to make a deal,"

Whatever hallucination Ellorys brain had decided to come up with, it certainly picked... an interesting voice. There wasn't anything wrong with the voice itself, in fact, it was quite pleasant to listen to. It sounded slightly masculine, low and gentle, yet not raspy in the slightest, like whatever this illusion was had never had a sore throat in their life. The weird thing, was it sounded confident and in control, but *wasn't*. The hero had been around villains enough to detect when a false bravado was just that; fake.

Especially with nothing else to do but listen, Ellory was able to easily pick up on the slight hesitations, the shaky undertones, and even the way the tones shifted, despite his sleep-deprived state.

Why would his brain come up with such a random yet weirdly detailed hallucination?

Maybe he *had* hit his head more than once.

"*A deal?*" the hero groaned again, "*Just sleep already!*"

"I can ensure you get a good night's rest every night, if you'd like...just tell me; do I have your permission to help you sleep?"

"*Yes! Please!*" Ellory internally cried. He was arguing - no, *begging* - his own hallucination. That's what tonight has devolved to.

"Very well then," the disembodied voice hummed. The last thing the hero remembered was opening his eyes to see the shadow move closer before things went black.

The next thing Ellory knew, he awoke the next morning, feeling shockingly well-rested.

What a weird dream he'd had last night.

The hero moved to get up, before remembering he was injured and braced for the wave of pain... only for nothing to come.

He looked down, lifting up his shirt to examine his abdomen and... what the hell?

What had previously been a sprawling mess of deep slashes, purplish-black bruises and swelling was now nothing more than a few scrapes, small cuts and the occasional tender spot.

Ellory skimmed his fingers across the surface of his skin, baffled.

Had it just looked worse in the dark? That made no sense.

Regardless, he wasn't about to complain, and he didn't have time to dwell on it. Being a hero meant busy days.

Unfortunately, as the week progressed, the strange occurrences only escalated.

While walking down the stairs the following day, Ellory tripped, nearly going head over heels, before something seemed to suddenly catch him, turning him in the air and standing him upright again.

It had happened so fast. Maybe his reaction times were better than he'd thought? Regardless, Ellory just brushed it off.

But then the following day, one of the cities villains threw a knife at him. He would have reacted to it too slowly if the knife hadn't suddenly stopped in the air mere millimetres in front of him before dropping to the ground with a clatter.

Now he was officially a little weirded out.

But the events just kept happening.

Doors were opening in front of him, only to close when he walked through. He'd knocked a glass of water off the counter, only to look down and see it had landed perfectly, not a drop spilt. His mail from the apartment mailboxes had appeared on his kitchen table when he didn't remember going to get it. Lights were flicking on and off when he'd enter or leave a room. One night he'd even realized he felt a bit chilly, only to hear the heater turn on seconds later.

One night, he fell asleep on the couch, only to wake up with a blanket over him he *swore* wasn't there when he fell asleep.

And yet, the hero had also been getting a great rest every night, drifting off almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

It wasn't until today, however, that Ellory really began to panic.

The hero had been on the rooftop of an office building, with a villain *on top* of him. (These events had really throw Ellory off his game)

This specific villain, however, wasn't particularly nasty, and Ellory had successfully reasoned with them before, and so despite the knife to their throat, they weren't quite panicked yet.

Said knife was still being held a couple inches away from their throat, more of a warning to stay down than an actual threat of "I'm one word away from slitting your windpipe open,"

"You, are becoming an increasing pain in the ass,"

The hero gave a small smile, "trust me, the feeling is mutual, but you know I can't let you do this,-"

He was cut off by the villain thrusting the knife much closer, "I wasn't aware you-"

Suddenly, without warning, the villain was launched back into the air, catapulted off him. Ellory watched them skid across the roof where they landed a couple meters away.

Whatever the villain saw when they looked back up made the colour drain from their face. They immediately pushed themselves up to their feet, staggered back a few steps, eyes wide, before they turned tail and fled.

The hero was frozen.

*What the hell?!*

Ellory looked down at his shaking hands.

*What the hell just happened?!*

Quickly, the hero got to his feet and took off home, completely panicked. He ran as fast as he could, as if something was chasing on his heels, breathing down his neck. It felt like his own shadow wanted to catch him.

*Something was wrong* *Something was really wrong*

As soon as he made it into his apartment, Ellory ran into his bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror.

He looked normal, though slightly red, which was just the consequence of being so out of breath. He was panting, breathing heavily and shaking. His hair was also a mess, a combination of both the frantic running and previous fight.

He could hear the frantic drumming of his heart in his ears.

Ellory took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. Grip tightening on the counter's edge.

Bending down into the sink, he splashed his face with cold water.

He was patting his face dry with a towel when a voice behind him startled him.

"I'm sorry...."

Ellory's head shot up. In the mirror, he could see a dark shadowy figure in the corner of the bathroom behind him.

The hero immediately whirled around, but was greeted by nothing more than an empty bathroom. His eyes wandered around warily, but not a thing seemed out of place.

Great, was he hallucinating now too?

He sighed, relaxing from the scare before turning back to the mirror and-

Ellory froze.

There in the mirror, in the same spot as before, was the shadowy figure.

He glanced back and forth between the mirror and back corner, but the dark humanoid shape was only visible in the reflection.

There was a few moments of silence as the hero simply stared, brain reeling, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

The shape was in constant motion, shadows swirling gently, like a foggy aura surrounding a much darker silhouette. The constant movement made it near impossible for the eye to focus on any one part of it, as if trying to see the individual particles in a stream of smoke.

The silhouette inside the aura was a bit more defined, at least around the head and shoulders. Apart from the clearly humanoid shape, the darker mass had no other identifiable features; except for its eyes, which were like two white voids, with a slightly darker pupil in the center.

Said eyes met Ellory's momentarily, before being cast downwards almost sheepishly.

That's when it clicked. The sheepish posture. This was the same shadowy figure from nearly a week ago.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He couldn't think of anything to say.

The figure seemed to take the action to mean he'd had enough time to process.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," they apologized, sounding genuine.

The hero blinked.

*This was really happening*

"What..." the hero managed, barely getting the words out of his mouth. His brain had stalled.

"I was only trying to help," the shadow went on to explain sheepishly.

Something in the hero's stomach seemed to drop, "What... what are you?" He asked nervously.

"I think you know what I am," the demon replied quietly.

Ellory swallowed.

"Why can I only see you in the mirror now when I could see you fine last time?" He asked as if that was the most pressing question at the moment. Perhaps it was the only question he could handle the answer to right now.

"You may want to change your definition of 'fine', you were experiencing sleep paralysis last time,"

Finally, Ellory's brain seemed to catch up, "Why are you here again?"

The shadow in the corner seemed to still slightly, "I'm here because we made a deal,"

Deal...? They didn't make any... wait-

"You tricked me?!"

"Hey!" The demon snapped indignantly, posture suddenly defensive, "Not entirely! I've kept up my end of the deal! You haven't had any trouble sleeping this week have you‽"

Well, no... but...

The hero couldn't help but swallow nervously again, "so then what's *my* end of the deal?"

The shadow's posture instantly deflated again, "just let me hang around, basically..."

Hang around what? His house? Surely not because the demon had been there when he was fighting the villain so clearly-

"You possessed me!?" Ellory realized, eyes widening.

"No!" They replied, sounding almost horrified at the idea, "possession would be taking over control entirely! I'm just... taking up residence in the back corner?"

"What!?"

"Please don't send me back!" The demon pleaded. Their voice was suddenly so *desperate* sounding. The hero could even see the desperation in their white eyes. "I'll do whatever you want I promise! I'll go back into hiding and won't do anything! You won't even know I'm here I swear! I-"

The shadow was full-on rambling now, sounding more and more desperate with every word.

It was probably absurd that his heroic instincts flared, but he couldn't help it! This... being(?) really sounded like they were in trouble. Like they were genuinely scared.

"Hey, hey, it's okay-" Ellory interrupted, holding his hands up and taking a step forward. His heart sank when the figure flinched back, sinking in on itself and pinning its eyes closed as if bracing for something.

When nothing happened after a moment, the demon risked opening their eyes again. Still, they never said anything, just sheepishly stood in the corner as if waiting for a verdict, looking like they wanted nothing more than to hide in their own shadow.

Ellory took a deep breath, surveying the situation. The creature in front of him certainly didn't seem dangerous... and he hadn't tried to hurt the hero at all. Being able to sleep without any problems was also a nice bonus...

"so your... not... going to hurt me or anything?"

The shadow shook its head almost frantically.

"Ok..." Ellory took another deep breath, "As long as you don't hurt me, and don't do anything unless I tell you to, you can stay, okay?"

The demon in the corner immediately perked up, eyes brightening, "r-really?!"

The hero nodded.

"Thank you!" The shadow cheered, and Ellory would swear he could almost see a smile, "Thank you so much! You won't regret it I promise!"

And then just like that, there was a poof of smoke and the demon's reflection vanished, leaving a confused hero that still had a million questions alone in the bathroom.

MASTER TAGLIST:

@llamaly @why-am-i-on-this-website-anyway @larinzz @sharraus @asrasmysoulmate @kaiwewi @akawrites000 @sunflower1000 @aroacewitchyacademic @aquarellesirene @lbelle0527 @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room @freefallingup13 @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @homosexual-having-tea @friiday-thirteenth @chocomarsgalaxy @ravenshadow17 @daydreamed-snippets @stankyt0es @jinx1365 @rainy-knights-of-villany @fromtheo-withlove @maybe-a-cat42 @the-sky-writes @watercolorfreckles @noirewaves @digitalart-tw @itsleighlove @chibicelloking @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @daedae127 @wish1bone1 @avery1s @vampart @ilikebooksbuttheresnousernames @defectivehero

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gildedmuse · 4 years

Text

Sora: Warrior Of The Sea

(A RedHawk Production)

Cavendish's constantly flirting with Law, because hey if it gets him a bigger role....

Zoro isn't sure why exactly, but he wants to punch Cavendish in the face. He's suggested (to Luffy, in private) that his character gets to do so multiple times. Luffy thinks it's hilarious. Of course Zoro wants to punch Cavendish.

Zoro: No, I mean our characters...

Luffy: Shishishi that doesn't make sense, Zoro. Why would Daichi punch Cavendish when Torao isn't even in the show.

Zoro: *grumbles* It had nothing to do with Torao.

Luffy: Unless---!!! Did Torao put himself in the next show? Who does he play? Does he have a costume? Is it awesome?

Zoro: What? No, of course he didn't -- You know you can read the scripts, right?

Luffy: That's boring. I'd rather see what happens. Although I'll bet I know what part Torao would give himself if he did!

Zoro: Someone with puppet string powers so he could force Ace and I to act more like the manga?

Luffy: Shishi, Zoro's always so funny. Noooooo, stupid. *Beaming up at him, like he knows a secret* I know what Torao would do. Torao would play a character that got to kiss Daichi! Shishishi.

Zoro: W-what?! *Under his breath, as if anyone cares about their conversation enough to listen in or would be surprised by this* Stop messing around, Luffy! Idiot! Why would you say something like that?

Luffy: Cause then he'd get to kiss ZORO. And in front of everyone, too, just like he wanted to- mmfff!

Zoro: Luffy! *jolts forward to cover Luffy's mouth* H-he does not want to--! No one wants to--! *Sighs, letting go before Luffy gets bored and starts licking his palm. He totally knows him too well* What a stupid thing to say.

Luffy: *Pouting beacuse it was NOT a stupid thing to say and he doesn't understand why Zoro is being so mean and weird when Luffy is being so helpful!* No it's not! Torao watched all - *Makes a longing sort of face, but tries to glare as well, the way Law does* - when Ace and Zoro kissed at the party last year. *Frowns at the memory, pointing an accusing finger in Zoro's face* Zoro is the stupid one for making Torao spend the rest of the party pouting in the back. He wouldn't even come watch me and Carrot have an eating contest and that was super fun!

Zoro: *Eye twitching* You moron, that's not the reason Law didn't want to watch you two eat. Anyway, he's always like that. He probably didn't even want to go to that stupid party in the first place.

Luffy: Everyone loves parties. Torao was probably having tons of fun until Ace and Zoro kissed, and it's worse because everybody saw!

Zoro: *Starts to ask why that’s so important but stops because Luffy logic* What does it matter? It was just some stupid party game. And Torao didn’t seem to mind when Cavendish kissed him earlier!

Luffy: But Torao didn’t go all red after and tell everyone how good at kissing Cavendish is.

Zoro: *Flushes all over again just at the memory. He might have been slightly tipsy. and as luck would have it Ace IS a really, really good kisser. In a way Zoro had not been expecting,*

Luffy: *Eyes go wide* That's why Torao wants to kiss Daichi! Then maybe Zoro will think Torao is an even better kisser than Ace AND everyone would see it so then they’d all know that Zoro belonged to Torao and likes Torao more!

Zoro: *Knew that he’d regret learning Luffy’s logic behind the importance of everyone seeing him kiss someone* That’s not how tha-- Wait, no. *Shakes head, not believing he’s been dragged into this* I told you, Todorao didn’t write himself in the show. And if he did, he wouldn’t make a character who kissed Daichi. It wouldn’t be “like the original”. I, uh, flipped through the manga just to see if there were some better fights coming up. *Will die before he admits he read the whole series because Law seemed so upset he’d heard of it before* Daichi already has a love interest. It’s....*Shudders* Poison Pink. They even kiss this episode. *Looks like a man condemned at the thought that he’s going to have to kiss Perona of all people.* See it's right.... *Skimming the script, frowning when he can't find the page.*

Luffy: Shishishi. Only Zoro could lose his way inside a script!

Zoro: I didn’t get lost! It was here in the last draft I swear. *Flushing less out of embarrassment more of anger* Perona made me practice. Apparently my kissing isn’t “cute” enough for the princess.

Luffy: Hmm.... *Thinks about Perona threatening Zoro to practice so he doesn’t gross her out while everyone is watching*

Luffy: *Thinks about Perona being all gleeful cause she gets to boss Zoro around, even if it’s just telling him how he should kiss her. She’d probably make him do it again and again just so she got to keep bossing him around.*

Luffy: *Pictures a mini Law peaking into the dressing room and seeing Perona get kissed by Zoro*

Luffy: You should practice the kissing scene with Torao! *said loud enough that any crew member that hadn't picked up on the tension definitely knew now*

Luffy: *Pictures Law at a typewriter angrily slamming down on the keys, furiously rewriting the scene*

Zoro: *an interesting shade of red* Wh-what are you talking about! And keep your voice down!

Luffy: Well, usually I help you remember your lines, because you're terrible at it.

Zoro: I am not! They just change too much that's all!

Luffy: But what if I couldn't help with the kissing scene because.... Hmm.... Because I was busy helping Ace!

Zoro: *Sweatdrop* I'm not sure that sounds right.... You should probably just say you don’t want to.

Luffy: So you'd have to ask Torao!

Zoro: Why would I--!! And besides *Shakes script in Luffy’s face* the kissing scene is gone. *So fucking relieved*

Luffy: Oh, right.... Oh, I know! I’ll bet Shanks would put it back in if we asked!

Zoro: No!

Luffy: But then you'd have a reason to kiss Torao! Though I guess you’d have to practice where everyone could watch, but we practice out on set all the time so just so that. And you wouldn't have to punch anybody!

Zoro: ...... I'd still want to punch Cavendish.

Luffy: Hmm… Well, maybe you could kiss Torao then punch Cavendish.

Zoro: *Doesn't reply, because this seems like a pretty good deal*

There's one time Luffy convinced Law to give in and try on the Sora costume. Bon Clay adores Luffy so it's not at all difficult to talk him into letting the two of them borrow it. Admittedly, Law feels a little ridiculous about how excited Luffy gets over playing dress up, but also.... He /does/ kinda want to try it on. Just to see. Still, he's determined to be seen as professional and not like a total fanboy at work so he makes Luffy swear not to tell a soul and promises himself he'll only try it on for a minute.

So naturally the second he's done up, Luffy runs off to get Zoro so he can see how cool Torao looks as Sora. Zoro gets pulled out of his trailer half dressed in his own costume - he's used to Luffy grabbing him and dragging him places with no explanation - only to be shoved into a small dressing room with a very flushed, embarrassed looking Law all dressed up like his childhood hero.

Luffy has to prompt him to tell Torao how badass he looks, seeing as Zoro is just /staring/ at Law. Not even at the costume, just at Law. That's wrong and boring as far as Luffy's concerned so he finally jumps in telling Zoro what to say. Which Zoro still managed to screw up by replying to, "Doesn't Torao look totally cool as Sora?" With, "Mmm, so cute." Before realizing, shit, said that outloud

Fellow writer Robin just happens to peek into the room while looking for Law in that moment and catches Zoro stuttering a correction while Law goes from embarrassed to full on smug, leaning closer to Zoro and flirtatiously asking "But what do you think of the costume?" enjoying the way Zoro's skin goes all flushed.

Robin decides she doesn't need Law that much at the moment, but she does secretly snap a photo on her phone. She's a total Daichi/Sora shipper. She has a secret account online where she writes fanfic of the two. She somehow managed to get a picture of Ace and Zoro in full costumes making out that no one can explain.

She watches the two of them for a moment before quietly backing out, smiling the whole time. She has so many plans for these two now.

I feel like Zoro would not care about awards at all, but notices that Law gets a bit more bitchy when award season comes around. Which means it does matter to him (even though he hasn't cared about them with past projects, the Sora show is very important to him. He just wants to see it get the recognition it deserves). So when there is a surprise upset and Zoro ends up winning Best Supporting Actor In A Drama Series, he doesn't even give a real speech but whatever. But when they end up landing Best Drama Series and all his co-workers erupt in excitement, Zoro can't help getting caught up in Law's barely hidden gleefulness and without thinking grabs him, pulling him in for a kiss.

Not even like a /good/ kiss. Less "I'm going to absolutely devour you", more "I'm so happy for you" mixed with a touch of, "God you're so cute when you get all over excited you dork". He has to lean down two rows, over Luffy's head, to grab Law by the back of his jacket just to pull him in for a quick, sloppy kiss. But it still managed to shock the fuck out of Law. He's so used to being the one to flirt with/tease an embarrassed Zoro that the kiss is more surprising than the win.

Luffy totally gives him a thumbs up of approval and well done high five that Law does not remember at all. Luckily for him, he accepts the award alongside Mihawk, Shanks, Hiyori, Jinbe and Benn so he isn't actually expected to speak at all. Which is a good thing, because even by the time backstage interviews start he's still a little lost. Not helped by reports straight up asking him about the kiss.

Thank God Shanks can talk about anything for forever. Benn mercifully removes Law from in front of cameras and let's Shanks dazzle/annoy them with another "When RedHawk Productions was just starting out....." story that he has an endless supply of

Corazon - the show runner from the first show Law ever worked on, who took Law under his wing - finds Law almost immediately and pulls him into a hug. Law finally starts to shake out if it and thanks Corazon for his support and believing him, congratulating him on the success of his miniseries Dressrosa, etc.

Corazon is immediately in there with, "Why didn't you tell me? Who is that boy? I mean I know who the boy is. Why didn't you tell me you were dating Roronoa Zoro!? Oh my God, is what they said about him and those two actresses true!? Is he going to do that to you? How could you not tell me!"

@randommouseclick

Law: Boa's trying to get into Mugiwara-ya's shorts, Perona's along for kicks and Zoro's a fucking himbo who's interested in neither.

Law: Do you REALLY think I'd let him get away with that shit, if it WAS true?

@gildedmuse

Corazon just WORRIES. Law is so innocent in certain ways. Cora doesn't want him to be taken advantage of.

Anyone Who Has Ever Met Law: Umm......

Corazon, Prior To Meeting Zoro: Anyway, *lights a cigarette while calm and collected* I'll speak with him first to make certain. No point getting attached to a bad element.

Corazon, Upon Meeting Zoro: Oh my God! *Pulls Zoro into a hug, tears streaming down eyes* Thank you so much for loving Law! I'm sure you two will be happy together for the rest of your lives.

Corazon making some poor camera man take pictures of the two of them like it's fucking prom.

Nami is Zoro's agent. Switching from representing a Stunt Coordinator/Performer to an actor with a starring role in what eventually turns out to be a hugely popular series had not been in her plans. On the one hand, her cut just went from 6 to 10 percent, and on top of his general pay raise that makes for a rather good take away. On the other hand, her job just got way more complicated. Stunt guys rarely have whole sections of the internet dedicated to them. They certainly don't end up with their picture in the trades alongside names like Boa Hancock. She's definitely had to earn that additional 4%.

Her main goal is to convince Zoro to keep taking similar (paying) roles while keeping him as far from the press as possible. Because every time you put this boy in front of a camera without a script it's a goddamn disaster. If he somehow managed not to piss off the media establishment due to him not giving a fuck then his fans - when the hell did Zoro get fans? She took this kid on as a favor! It was supposed to be easy - are probably throwing an absolute fit.

When this phenomena first starts happening with Hancock she calls up in a panic. WHY is Zoro always being photographed around her? Please don't say he's trying to hit on Boa Fucking Hancock. Do you know how fast that woman could sink his career? Possibly even Nami's!? That's how powerful this woman is and for god's sake won't Zoro just stay away. The press is having a goddamn field day wondering what their relationship is and Nami is shocked Hancock's personal security hasn't escorted him off the set of his own TV show.

By the time he kisses Law, Nami has learned to just roll with the punches. She's watching the ceremony live. Less than thirty seconds after it happens her phone blows up. This time it's the fans who are wondering who this mysterious sexy stranger is (a question that is answered literally less than a minute later when the show introduce who will be accepting the award, but that doesn't stop the topic from somehow trending), freaking out about Zoro maybe being gay, and theorizing about Hancock and Perona helping him stay in the closet by manufacturing all that drama. This is almost three years since he was hired for the show so by now Nami just shoots him a text like, "You're probably going to be asked about kissing that man since you did it on camera in the middle of the award show".

She is a little afraid when she gets the reply "laws realt cute when hes all happy huhh??" But only because it means Zoro's drunk. She's never actually seen Zoro drunk. She's not sure how much alcohol it would have taken. But she just texts her friend Robin to let her know if Zoro dies of alcohol poisoning and then heads into bed. That's how chill she's gotten over the last three years (also it's 12% now that he's won an award).

#so this is my crazy #maybe people shouldn't engage me in conversation #conversations with internet people #sora warrior of the sea #the tv show #zolaw #one piece au #donquixote rosinante #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #roronoa zoro #monkey d. luffy #a whole lotta drama #one piece #sorry i'll shut up now

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