#and an event where we try to make jean wind down

[hornkneebee]

Jean's rest day.

[ladamedusoif]

Snowflakes (Javier Peña x F!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 6

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist. FYI: I'm having so much trouble with taglists at the moment that I'm not going to use them for now - if you want to keep updated, follow @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2091

Warnings: Reader is a colleague of Javi’s; set sometime around the events of Narcos S1; non-canon; no use of Y/N; no physical description of reader; alcohol consumption; smoking; references to sex work; swearing; references to Christmas but more often to ‘holiday season’; reader has a large family; fluff; minor angst; heavy making out; implied smut; Javi is a softie really

Summary: With the holidays approaching, you volunteer to stay on and work at the embassy in Colombia so that other colleagues can take time off and head back to the US to spend time with family. It’s just you, mountains of paperwork - and Javier “Where’s Your Festive Spirit?” Peña.

Winding down for the holidays in the embassy in Bogotá isn’t exactly how it was when you were based in D.C. That being said, even narcotics kingpins - and the people tasked with trying to topple their empires - eased off a little around the festive season. It’s three days before Christmas Eve, and the embassy offices are abuzz with colleagues exchanging cards and well-wishes before many of them depart for some much-needed time with family back in the US.

You’ve volunteered to stay put and let others, especially those with kids or older parents, get home. You come from a large family and - while you’ll miss them - you know your absence won’t be felt quite so keenly. 

The strains of “White Christmas” float through the office as you sort out stacks of paperwork in preparation for the (hopefully) quieter days ahead, humming along to yourself. 

Javier Peña sidles into the room, cigarette dangling from his lower lip and body poured into those stupidly tight jeans and shirt as per usual, and lets out a groan. 

“Ironic we’ve got Bing fuckin’ Crosby dreaming of a white Christmas, while we’re here trying to put a stop to a different kind of snow.”

You roll your eyes and exhale. “C’mon, Javi. Where’s your festive spirit?”

He swivels and gives you that hooded stare you feel is more of a practiced defence mechanism than anything else. 

“Don’t have it. Don’t need it. Just want to get some work done when it’s quieter. When are you leaving, anyway?”

You put on your best and brightest smile. “I’m not. I volunteered to stay over the holidays, too. Now, when are we planning on making some popcorn garlands and drinking eggnog?”

You hold your wide-eyed, innocent expression for just long enough to spark panic in Javi’s eyes, before collapsing in giggles.

“I’m just fuckin’ with you, man! Fuck. But I do have holiday sweaters and I’m not afraid to wear them.”

Javi rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and leaves.

You know all about Javier Peña and his reputation. Grumpy lothario with a moral compass painted in shades of grey. Supposedly fucked every hooker in Colombia by now, and a few embassy staffers for good measure. Sullen, snarky, and the definition of an asshole. 

You don’t buy it. 

Okay, he’s not exactly subtle about the way he checks out pretty much everything in a skirt, though he has his limits. And his knowledge of local brothels is just too good to be entirely based on police intelligence reports, though you suspect at least some of the stories are heavily embellished if not entirely made up. 

There’s just something about him that tells you he’s not the grumpy asshole people think he is - or, maybe, that he wants people to think he is. It’s like that stare: it’s a way of keeping you at arm’s length. It’s the same as the puppy dog eyes he pulls out when he’s trying to get something he wants. You’re a good agent - you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t - and you can’t resist the allure of cracking a puzzling case. Especially if it’s the colleague currently sitting sullenly at his desk, plume of cigarette smoke rising above his head, while he rifles through surveillance photographs.

The embassy is much quieter now, the day before Christmas Eve, and the usual background noise of phones and chatter has been replaced by the sound of your typewriter, the scratch of Javi’s Parker ballpoint pen against a yellow legal pad, and his occasional frustrated grunt or exhalation. 

He hasn’t said a word about the bright green sweater decorated with a glittery Christmas tree that you’ve worn to work, though you’ve noticed him sneaking occasional glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. Eventually you decide to call his bluff.

“I think you’re jealous of this sweatshirt, Javi. Let me know your size and I can get you one for next year.”

He looks over at you and shakes his head with irritation. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” But you swear you detect a little smile flashing across his lips.

On Christmas Eve, you don your brightest holiday sweater and pack a tin of homemade sugar cookies into your work bag. It promises to be quiet - most Colombians will be with family, preparing to attend midnight Mass and come together for dinner afterwards. You aren’t even sure if Javi will be in the office. 

He’s there, of course, already leafing through files with his feet up on the desk when you arrive. He does a little salute in acknowledgement - more of a hello than you think you’ve ever got from him, you muse.

He looks up again at the sound of your cookie tin hitting your desk, and mutters something under his breath. 

“Excuse me? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said, that better not contain popcorn for making garlands.”

You grin, take the lid off the tin, and cross to his desk to show him the cookies. “I didn’t think you’d be much good at that, so I made cookies instead.”

Javi cannot disguise the interest in his eyes as his gaze moves from the cookies to your face. 

“I don’t like eggnog.”

You shrug. “Don’t have eggnog, so we’re good. There’s coffee. Or, as I suspect, there’s that bottle of whiskey you’ve got in your desk drawer?”

You raise your other hand. Javi groans when he realises you’re holding two holiday-themed mugs, dangling expectantly, but he’s clearly fighting a laugh as he bends down and opens his desk drawer to retrieve a bottle of Johnnie Walker.

“Fuck it.”

It seems that sugar cookies, Scotch, and an empty office are the key to cracking the mystery that is Javier Peña. He’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, stretching back in his chair with his feet up as you sit on the edge of his desk.

The alcohol has emboldened you a little. “I don’t buy it.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Don’t buy what?”

“You not having any holiday spirit. I think you just don’t want to let it show.”

“Fuck, not this again.” He’s smiling, though, and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He exhales and sips his drink. 

“Holidays were my mom’s thing. Never felt the same after she passed.” 

“I’m sorry, Javi, I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.”

He brushes away your apology with a wave of his hand. “No need to say sorry. They’re not bad memories. That’s the fuckin’ problem, they’re all too good.” He chuckles to himself, as if he’s reliving Christmases past. “She loved it, all of it. The food, the lights, the music. Dancing with my pop on Christmas Eve with the record player on - fuckin’ embarrassing, when you’re a kid.”

He laughs at the memory and you can’t help but join in, saying nothing in case he’ll close himself off again.

“She had this little ornament that was like a snowglobe, or something, with a little plastic snowman inside, and she used to shake it every day and watch all the fake snow falling. Don’t get a lot of snow in Laredo, so it must have seemed…exotic.”

“Never had a white Christmas?”

He shakes his head and takes another sip of whiskey. “Not that I recall. Just one day in February when I was, what - fourteen? Fifteen? And I came home from school and she was standing in the yard, staring up into the sky and watching those snowflakes fall like a little kid.”

You let the memory linger for a couple of moments, before silently reaching for the cookie tin and offering it to him.

After another hour or so of work - albeit at a decidedly relaxed pace - you dig out your final Christmas Eve surprise: a portable cassette player, and a mix tape you’ve made of your favourite holiday songs. As the opening bars of “Sleigh Ride” by the Ronettes ring out, Javi sighs and stares at you.

“That better not have any Bing fuckin’ Crosby on it. Or Sinatra.”

You chuckle as you bob your head in time to the music, swaying in your office chair. “Don’t worry, Javi, I wouldn’t force that on you. Who knows, we might even have the same taste in holiday tunes?”

He grins and shakes his head, but you smile with satisfaction when you notice his foot starting to keep time. 

No holiday spirit, my ass.

The next track is your favourite: “Christmas Wrapping”, by the Waitresses. You stand up from the desk and dance your way over to the filing cabinets, shimmying a little as you put away some completed paperwork and looking over your shoulder just in time to catch Javi nodding along to the music.

He looks up as you extend your hand towards him. 

“I know you want to, Javi. I could see that Rio Grande boot tapping from across the room.”

He stands up. He extinguishes his cigarette. He stares at you like you’ve come from another planet.

And then he takes your hand and starts to dance with you, right there in the middle of the office: his moves a little reserved and awkward at first, but his body language becoming more open, more relaxed, as the song progresses. 

By the time Patty Donahue is recounting how she’s turned down all of her Christmas Eve invitations, Javi’s broad hands are around your waist, yours resting on his shoulders, both giggling at the bizarre holiday party you’ve created for yourselves. He suddenly twirls you around and you throw your head back and laugh out loud.

He pulls you back in as the song reaches the final, repeated chorus. You lean in and whisper in his ear.

“I knew you weren’t a grinch, Javier Peña.”

His laugh is low and warm, resonating through his broad chest, and it sends a spark through you as your eyes meet.

He tastes of whiskey and tobacco, of sugar cookies and coffee, and he holds you close as you deepen the kiss and move backwards towards your desk. Your last few manila folders of paperwork hit the floor as he eases you up onto the edge of the table, your hands already starting to unbutton his shirt as his long, thick fingers work their way under your sweater and find the soft, sensitive skin of your breasts. 

You sit up a little so you can take the sweatshirt off, hastily discarding it before reaching for Javi’s belt buckle. 

“We probably shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmur as he undoes your jeans and encourages you to raise your hips just enough to pull them down.

“You don’t want to?” he asks, breath warm and heavy against your neck.

“I want to.”

“Good,” and he moves his mouth to your nipple as you whine with pleasure. “It’s Christmas, after all.”

You’re gone when he wakes up the next morning, the sheets on your side of the bed already turning cold in the grey light of a Christmas morning. He sits up and reaches for his cigarettes before dialling your number.

No answer. 

He had planned to go into the office one way or another. No point hanging around at home on his own when he could be getting some work done, right?

And maybe you’d be there, too.

The embassy is completely silent as Javi makes his way to the office, flicking on the lights and realising that all the evidence of yesterday’s festivities has been cleared away. Your desk is neat and tidy as ever.

It’s like nothing happened. 

There is one change, though: a little red gift box on Javi’s desk, topped with a bright green bow. The tag reads simply:

Merry Christmas, Agent Peña.

He raises an eyebrow and opens the box, reaching in to retrieve the gift within.

The fake snow glitters inside the cheap, plastic snowglobe as he holds it up to the light. 

[johaerys-writes]

Ch. 20: Feels Like We Only Go Backwards

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

Patroclus wakes up to Laika licking his face. The morning light hurts his eyes, and there's a deep ache pounding at his temples. He groggily bats Laika away and rubs at his eyes with a groan, then pats the bed around him for his glasses.

Right, he isn’t on his bed. That's the first thing that comes back to him. He's on the living room couch. A blanket has been draped over him, and beneath it he's still wearing his jeans, and nothing else.

Patroclus pushes it aside and stares down at himself. There are specks of glitter on his hands, his chest, his stomach. A fake diamond is stuck on his shoulder, where Achilles' cheek was pressed when they both fell asleep the previous night.

The sharp, sour sting of dread grips his stomach and squeezes hard as the events of the previous night unfold in his mind. Patroclus pushes himself up and grabs his glasses from the coffee table, trying not to trip over Laika as he gets to his feet.

"Achilles?" he calls, his voice still hoarse and rough from sleep. There’s no immediate response, and that’s when dread turns into fear. Where could Achilles have gone off to? What time is it, what day is it? Patroclus doesn’t think his brain works at all.

He calls out Achilles' name again, and just as panic is about to kick in, Achilles' head pops through the kitchen door. His skin is clear of last night’s makeup and his hair hangs about his face in frizzy little waves, freshly washed. He beams at him, the apron that's hanging off his neck dusted with flour.

"You're up!" he says. "I hope I didn't wake you. I've been fighting for my life with this lemon quiche recipe for half an hour. Do you even know how to make meringue?"

God, he's still there, he didn't leave him. The relief that rushes through Patroclus leaves him breathless and winded. He sets his hand on the wall to keep himself up, suddenly weak and dizzy.

"Uh, no,” Patroclus says, heart pounding. “I've never made meringue before."

"Well, whatever I’ve made doesn’t look like meringue at all. Eh, never mind. I guess we can walk to the bakery and get something better to eat." He takes off the apron and tosses it over the back of a chair as he walks up to him. He is still smiling when he tilts his head up to press a light kiss to Patroclus’ lips.

It takes Patroclus aback. He can do nothing but reciprocate, his lips parting under Achilles’ as if on cue, and he even leans closer towards him when Achilles does the same. It’s like he’s hypnotised, paralysed by Achilles’ touch, his body moving before his brain can get to it.

Achilles’ breath is still warm on his lips when he edges back to look at him, his eyes hazy and soft with affection.

“Why don’t you get back to bed, hm?” he whispers, playing with one of Patroclus’ curls. “I’ll go get us some breakfast and join you there.”

Patroclus flushes bright red.

“I—oh—” He swallows thickly, his vision blurring as the memory of Achilles between his legs last night flashes before his eyes. The panic is back as he tries desperately to form words. “Actually—um—I’ll go take a shower now. And, uh…” His mouth goes dry when Achilles’ eyebrow quirks with interest.

“I can join you there too.”

Patroclus chuckles nervously, his skin prickling where Achilles touches him. “Didn’t you just have one?”

“Can never be clean enough.” Achilles grins wickedly, leaning close again to kiss him.

It takes every ounce of willpower Patroclus possesses to edge back.

“I won’t be very long,” he tells Achilles over his shoulder as he turns around. “And then we can go to the shops together.” He shuts the bathroom door before he can hear Achilles’ response.

His hands are trembling when he presses them to the cool ceramic of the sink. His mind is swimming, and Patroclus doesn’t know if it’s from the kiss or their proximity, or his fucking hangover, or a sickly combination of the three. He takes off his glasses and sets them beneath the bathroom mirror, then gets the water running as he takes off his clothes. The smell of stale smoke from the bar the previous night lingers on his jeans and on his hair, along with a faint note of Achilles’ sweet and heady summer scent.

It’s been so long since his clothes smelled like Achilles. The realisation alone takes him months back, and a wave of heavy, twisted emotions rises to his chest along with it. He wouldn’t be able to untangle them even if he tried; the exhilaration, the dread, that awful, gnawing want. The last time he’d felt like that he’d been convinced his friendship with Achilles was over. All because of a temporary madness, a fancy; a fancy that’s dogging him still. Dogging them both. They survived it once, if barely; can they do it again?

The water, as hot as he can make it, runs down his face, his chest, his back. Patroclus closes his eyes and leans against the cool tile wall, letting it wash all those painful thoughts away.

He loses track of time, the hangover-induced haziness taking the better of him, when the quiet click of the bathroom door stirs him out of his reverie.

“A—Achilles,” is all Patroclus manages to stutter before a very naked Achilles is pushing back the shower curtain and stepping under the water with him a moment later. “What are you—”

“You’ve been here for ages,” Achilles says. “Thought you’d miss me.”

Read the rest on AO3

[hauntedjpegcollection]

one two three four

wc: 3058 au: band au ch: xavier, benji

Xavier tries not to be too excited about the series of events that has lead him to be alone with Benji. Ratspits elusive drummer and the gradual, slow thaw to—he wouldn’t call it friendship yet, right? It feels too tender and a little scary to classify the shedding of hostility; the way an alley cat slowly winds around a leg until you move and it darts away. The in between of finally knowing each other—positively. Sure, friendship.

It doesn’t necessarily feel right to be so buzzed out of his mind, simply sitting beside Benji on a couch in the back of a recording studio. Alone. Alone together. Alone, as in just the two of them.

The back room has walls stuffed with framed record deals, faux graffiti that’s more than a little embarrassing (‘VOTING IS PUNK ROCK’) and signed posters plastered everywhere. A mini fridge is overly stocked with energy drinks and water bottles and iced teas. A television with a gaming console is a dark, pretty mirror of their stretched, warped reflection. The couch they’re on is a sunk in beast, used and comfortable—there’s another loveseat Benji could have chosen instead off to the side.

But when he’d walked in, he’d merely blinked a few times. Then thrown himself down onto the couch, a tangle of messy limbs, face sleepily regarding Xavier. Xavier, not in a security uniform. Xavier, in a terrible JUST HERE FOR THE WIENERS shirt with a hot dog mascot, a baseball hat and too-many-times-washed denim jeans. Clearly not here for anything other than moral support for Lark and—and support for anyone else that might want it…

“Long flight?” Xavier had asked.

“Nah, mate, they invented teleportin’, you not hear about that yet?” Xavier’s resulting giggle had softened any harsh edge to Benji’s words and expression. Had tilted his brows up slightly, quirked his mouth from mean to endeared. Xavier is not sure where to put the new found feeling in his chest, so he holds it outstretched in his hands chanting, don’t be weird, don’t be weird, don’t be weird in his head.

Then they fall into a conversation that’s easy. Natural, almost, especially because there is no one else but them. A conversation without gaps or pauses, that swells up with laughter here and there. They sink closer and closer on the couch, maybe on accident. Maybe not. Xavier places his baseball cap on Benji just because of how frequently he’s touching his hair, swatting it back from his face. Benji offers to patch up the wide blown out knee of Xavier’s jeans, fingers pinching white strings of torn apart denim and accidentally brushing bare, freckled skin.

They’re friendly until they both decide they want the last remaining bag of chips in the bowl on the low rise coffee table (that is artfully styled with more graffiti and well placed scuffed marks).

“Crisps,” Benji says in a flat tone.

“Dude, they’re chips,” Xavier replies, incredulous. “You’re in San Francisco. They’re chips.”

“San Francisco? Thought we were in Los Angeles.”

“You’re joking, right? You look at your plane tickets before you board, right? Benji. Right?”

The drummer kicks into another laugh that’s gentle around the edges; not the harsh puff of air from his nose, the derivative snort that most people get. This is the sort of laugh Benji gives Mouse when she’s deliberately trying to make him smile—the laugh that Matilda gets when she’s showing him pictures on her phone of photoshoot outtakes Lark accidentally sneezed through.

Xavier gets this laugh arguing about…fucking chips. Whatever, he’ll take it.

“I dunno if you noticed,” he says, using a hand to gesture broadly at himself. He wiggles eyebrows, elongating on the couch as he does, with one leg crossed, ankle to thigh. It nearly has them touching. Nearly. “I’m not in security uniform today.”

“Oh,” Benji draws the word out nice and long. He rakes eyes up and down Xavier in a way that makes goosebumps rise up along every inch of skin. His lower belly fills with an undeniable sort of warmth. “Thought the wieners might have been the new style.”

Through a painful, burning blush, Xavier clears his throat and continues, “Anyway, I don’t have to be nice to you. I want the chips—barbecue is my favorite.”

“That right? I’m about to be burning calories drummin’ for the next two hours and you wanna take my only nourishment from me? Not right, yeah?”

“Man, I work on tour—I know that Bunny or Happy will cater food at some point.”

Benji’s settled himself onto the other side of the couch with an undeniable pout. Xavier’s starting to regret giving him the baseball hat—Benji isn’t usually the sort to wear them. If he ever has, it’s not been in Xavier’s presence (not that they’re spending that much time together, of course)—but he wears plenty of beanies. They always seem to make his hair curl prettily around his ears, his jawline. The baseball cap, in contrast, has his hair puff around the edges, go spirally and gorgeous and okay, maybe distracting.

Maybe Benji’s entire appearance is very distracting, all of the time.

There’s still a competitive dog inside Xavier that no beautiful drummer can win against.

“You wanna thumb war for it?”

“What?”

“Thumb war,” Xavier scoots closer, holding out a hand. Benji stares at it.

“Think you have an unfair advantage,” he murmurs, moving their palms together. There’s a small and yet incredibly infinite—like genuinely, mindbogglingly, long—moment where Xavier’s brain all but shuts off. Whatever tiny cogs that make up all of his inner workings grind to an abrupt and utterly painful stop. Benji’s hand fits into his, fingers curling around his own and his callouses, Jesus, Benji has callouses and they’re rough and Xavier is imagining those calloused hands in a hundred different ways even if the brain cogs are on fire now.

“Uh,” Xavier says intelligently. Benji blinks at him. Then slowly smiles. The effect of that smile on Xavier’s rapidly beating heart is devastating.

“’Cause your hands big. Like? A paw, mate. Go easy on me, yeah?”

“Well, hand size has nothing to do with thumbs,” Xavier continues, just as intelligently, because Benji had said that so, so breathily. Their hands maneuver into place and their knees bump as they get closer. Xavier hunches forward just a bit. “And also, I have to win or I’ll die.”

“See where Lark gets all the dramatics from.” Benji taps his chin a few times. “Could always do arm wrestlin’. No size bias there.”

“You’re joking!” Xavier leans even farther forward, his free hand wrapping around Benji’s bicep. The black denim of his jacket doesn’t hide the warmth of him; Xavier feels it immediately, straight to the marrow. He wants to soak in it, wants to rub himself against that warmth and sigh happily, like a dog rolling about a sunny patch of grass. Xavier punctuates with a squeeze of Benji’s arm, the considerable swell of his bicep hard to the touch. It makes his mouth go dry.

Benji raises an eyebrow. Xavier lets go.

“C’mon, best of three.”

The thumb war becomes an all out physical thing, with both of them jerking arms, flailing and laughing and jostling into each other. They’re bumping shoulders at some point, hands outstretched at a terrible angle. They’re both in the lead and then losing, and then arguing snappishly over their hands and laughing even louder. They’re hunching over each other and insulting each other and knocking temples as they move together and ow, ow, ow, you’re hurting me and still laughing. Xavier’s honor depends on winning, but he also—he really likes that they’re touching and that thought makes him slip drastically.

Benji nearly wins.

Until a notification pings loudly in the space between them, from his jacket pocket.

“Was that,” Xavier’s only just slightly out of breath from the hand turned near full body wrestling, a lock of his hair fallen into his face. He stares down at the phone, lit up in Benji’s jacket pocket. There’s just enough of a corner showing that he can see a yellow mask icon.

“Grindr?”

“What?” Benji startles, his eyes popping, lips tensing into a thin, pale line once the words are out of his mouth. Xavier immediately pulls away, shuffling to the other end of the couch, blush burning a path all the way to the tips of his ears. The notification goes off once more and Benji swears under his breath. Xavier’s hand is warm with the memory of Benji’s palm.

“Dude, it’s fine—answer it, what if he’s hot?” Xavier’s laugh feels thin and put on, so he clears his throat.

“Nah—no, m’not interested, like—not,” Benji rambles as more notifications come through, popping loudly between them.

Xavier pays closer attention to the coffee table, putting a foot against it and mentally lacing his shoe over and over as a distraction from the sounds of Benji’s phone and his annoyed grunting and the soft mumbling under his breath. The semi-meditative act of lacing his shoes blurs his vision, a little cycle in his brain over and over.

Until a beat passes and then, Benji laughs—that pretty laugh again. Xavier can’t help but look over, even if it’s a moderately shy tuck of a glance over his shoulder. A feeling of arousal pierces through his stomach when he finds Benji staring at him, instead of looking at his phone, which seems to have disappeared altogether. That arousal does nothing but bloom when Benji smiles at him, crooked and dark.

“Was he hot?” Xavier asks, feeling the words tumble out awkwardly.

“Not like you.”

“What?”

“Well,” Benji draws himself up onto his knees on the other side of the couch, one arm lazily over the back of it. It creates an immediate height difference between them that is an exact opposite of the usual—with Benji looming and Xavier slouched to something resembling small. Muscles tighten along his abdomen, arms looped around his middle. “Just bein’ honest—you asked. Don’t want me to answer truthfully?”

Xavier turns and places the flat of his sneakered heel against Benji’s thigh, finding it considerably thick in this knelt position.

“Don’t fuck with me,” he laughs. Or wheezes. It’s hard to catch his breath the more he’s stared at like that. Like he’s something to be eaten, something to be savored. Something hot and desirable. Benji’s hand loops underneath his calf, sliding appreciatively along the taut muscle there, fingers squeezing deftly, like they’re enjoying the pursuit. He yanks and Xavier is jerked onto his back, flat on the couch, bewildered and very, very turned on. His leg is hefted and bent, Benji’s eyes trailing along the lightly colored denim stretched across his inner thigh.

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you,” Benji says simply.

“I didn’t say that,” Xavier squeaks.

“That’s a fuckin’ riot—cute as you are hot, y’know that, Xavier?” Benji’s other hand drops onto his stomach, making all of Xavier’s body jump up. His hand grasps at a muscular forearm—suddenly it’s just all bare skin, soft black body hair, tattoos everywhere. Xavier wants to put his tongue to him there, taste all the way to the crook of Benji’s elbow and leave a bite mark of his teeth so everyone knows it was him.

Benji’s hand plucks at Xavier’s silly graphic t-shirt, pushing it higher until black serif font is revealed along with a pale and trembling torso. He laughs again, an aphrodisiac that is making it hard for Xavier to breathe and making other things hard as well.

“Whats all this then?” Fingers trail along his tattoo, a rough palm joining to flatten entirely against his stomach. A whimper, completely unintentional passes through Xavier’s lips and makes his cheeks painfully hot. Benji’s dark eyes drink him in. “Sweet boy? Are you, Xavier? I haven’t had a taste yet…”

A few more Grindr notifications pop. Xavier’s foot jerks against the table, sending it skittering along the floor. That too, as one can imagine, is artificially scuffed with fraying carpet that was likely purchased to be just worn in enough. He glances to the side, where Benji is still furiously attacking his phone, in some miserable attempt to cut the notifications. Xavier scrubs a hand across his face, chest hurting, face burning.

He scoots closer and as he does, he laughs.

“Wot?” Benji glances up at him and his expression is so mildly panicked that all of the arousal and fantasy drains from Xavier. It’s replaced with such an overwhelming affection, a desire to cup the back of Benji’s neck and knead out the worry in his eyes. The curve of his accent around that one word, the way the baseball cap has fallen back slightly, revealing curls to fall across his forehead. He looks so sweet, so cute.

“No wonder you can never get any videos to play on your phone” Xavier comments, getting close enough for their shoulders to touch. “You have like—a million apps open. Man, your phone is running like shit.”

“How d’you know I can’t get videos to run?”

“Because—your best friend back home—Maran, right? He’s sending you funny videos and you’re always grumbling under your breath, annoyed—because you can’t get them to load.”

“I don’t grumble,” Benji grumbles, chewing on the side of his mouth. The affection swells more, like a balloon underneath his sternum ready to pop. Xavier gestures to Benji’s phone with an inquiring look. There’s a brief hesitation (something that has weight to it, Xavier maybe missing a moment that feels more significant to the drummer than to the security guard) and it’s carefully handed over.

“You have to close out of apps,” Xavier explains, angling so Benji can see what he’s doing, swiping up on everything that’s open. “Dude, are these brain puzzles?”

“Yeah, shut up, alright? Why do you close ‘em, just gonna open it all tomorrow.” He’s folded arms over his chest, looking decidedly moody and a little petulant.

“It’s running in the background. It’s draining your battery and taking up space.” Xavier laughs, knocking their shoulders together, until the laugh turns to a squawk as the only application left open is Grindr. Xavier is glad that he can’t actually see whatever message Benji’s gotten, his mouth turning dusty. “Uh, I can show you how to make specific apps not send you a notification—if, uh—if that’s what you want.”

“No.” Benji plucks his phone free from Xavier’s hand. “Know how to delete things—not a total illiterate, alright?” He watches as Benji does just that, with him sitting right there. The yellow mask icon disappears from his screen. The background is a mess of other apps, nothing organized and they all cover a rather adorable photo of the Benji and Lark, looking years younger. An old photo, maybe one from a tour that had been hopping church basements and bar corners rather than the venues they get placed in now.

The balloon in Xavier’s chest pops and fills him with love.

He moves back to the other end of the couch, hands fidgeting together.

“I was like, way too into Grindr when I first came out,” he admits shyly. Benji’s turned completely on the couch, knees tucked up, boots causing authentic scuffs finally. The baseball cap’s fallen completely, perhaps lost behind the couch for all eternity. His hair is chaotic and Xavier briefly allows himself the indulgence of imagining soothing fingers through the tangle of curls. He scratches his cheek, bashful as he smiles. “I didn’t figure it out until a guy in the military did the heavy thinking for me.”

“Heavy thinkin’ or—” Benji makes a bit of a lewd gesture but despite that, Xavier can nearly detect a hint of what sounds like jealousy. If maybe it was anyone but Benji, because that sort of bitter tone doesn’t really fit, doesn’t make sense that Benji would be jealous of Riley. Xavier hasn’t even named the man out loud, but a sunny memory of the golden skinned surfer fills his mind, a pedestal unfortunately stacked underneath him.

“Okay, yeah, he kissed me and—and—alright, other stuff?” Xavier laughs, throwing hands in the air, smiling ear to ear. “I was twenty-two.”

“What was he like then?” There is that note again. Xavier gets a funny feeling Riley and Benji wouldn’t get along.

“Mean.” The instant reply makes both of them grin at each other, like this is a new found inside joke and that warms every part of Xavier as if he’s a pad of butter in a very hot pan. “Maybe I’m just sort of into guys that are a little mean to me.”

Benji grins, his lip a curling sneer of it, brows pinched in. His eyes, beautiful and brown and tired, narrow with meaning. Xavier can only smile back, a complete contrast; wide and happy and toothy, with a canine snagging on his lower lip, creating a dimple that Benji stares at. They both stare at each others mouths like complete fools.

Then the door to the room bursts open and Mouse tumbles in, sighing dramatically.

“The drive here was so fucking awful and I hate San Fran traffic so fucking much and I hate this recording studio—you know the owner is such a creep and he leers at Matilda, you’d think Bunny would cut off his balls over it already except Matilda is in that I can handle myself phase—you know if I had an insane, scary dad I would sick them on every creepy music producer alive,” she shouts this all in one giant string, fists at her side.

If she’s shocked to find Xavier, she doesn’t show it with anything more than a disgusted and brief look before it changes to excitement as it lands on Benji.

“Hey, I missed you,” she says, entering the room further. Her eyes land on the bag of chips they’d been warring over. She snatches the bag, popping it open with a fist to the side of it, a loud pop filling the room. “Oh, barbecue, my favorite.”

Both Xavier and Mouse are then shocked—and delighted—by the absolute outburst of laughter from Benji, who has to clutch his sides.

[profblahson]

Finlandia

Figured that I’d look into a piece of music that never fails to

A) Make me cry

B) Fill me with hope and determination

(The video unfortunately does in fact have some audio artifacts, but the performance with the full choir is, in my opinion, the best one available on YouTube)

History

1899: The Grand Duchy of Finland is experiencing a tightening grip by the Russian Empire. The Grand Duchy wouldn’t become independent until 1917, and Russification - the Empire’s process of limiting the Duchy’s status and working to abolish its political powers altogether - was in full effect. The Russian Empire began to declare Russian Law as law of the land, and the Duchy must pledge their allegiance, effectively downgrading from Duchy to a state, ignoring any attempts at autonomy.

The Finnish people were, naturally, angry. They began to push back. They had already begun a nationalistic cultural movement in the 1830s known as the Fennoman Movement, where Finns aimed to expand and raise their culture to a national level (a huge part of the movement was the study and spread of Finnish as a language, instead of Swedish or Russian).

By the 1890s, Jean Sibelius had established himself as a renowned Finnish composer in his homeland. He was approached to provide some music for a demonstration in Helsinki. The original title, Finland Awakes, debuted at this event in 1899, as the final movement of a suite. This suite was itself a commentary and story of the struggles of the Finnish under Russian rule. The final movement we now know as Finlandia aimed to describe Finland rising up and becoming independent. Sibelius later reworked this movement into a standalone piece, and a chorus was added as late as 1948. Below is a screen grab of the translated lyrics, from Finland.fi

The continuous interest and performance of the piece between its premiere in 1899, revisions, and addition of the chorus really speaks to how powerful the composition resonated with the people of Finland (Sibelius himself became exhausted with its popularity!).

The tone poem has become a symbol of Finnish nationalism and freedom from the Russian Empire. Let’s dive into the actual music!

The Music

Dark, cloudy, and loud brass chords start off, punctuated by tumultuous timpani rolls. The storm continues.

The upper woodwinds respond, attempting to pierce the sky with some hope, brought back down by the strings.

An ascending bass line leads into a short repeated call and response by the strings and winds. The second time, an octave higher, stretches even further up, again trying to breach the sky.

The storm returns, launching into a brass fanfare announcing the coming strife. The timpani murmurs trade off. This figure returns several times throughout the remainder of the piece.

When the strings return, they’re chaotic and unruly.

The celli state a transition that fights against the time signature, and launch us into one of the most iconic heroic themes written (I don’t think it’s any coincidence that so much of the music for the piece uses ascending melodies, and this heroic theme sounds like a call to action).

The heroic section is repeated - then the brassy storm and frantic strings return. As the music takes us through, the clouds finally fully part.

Enter the chorale. Calming, joyous, full of hope. Even without words, the melody sings, brings one to tears. Woodwinds make the first statement of the chorale, contrasting with the tumultuous strings and brass that led us here. The strings murmur underneath the entire time, and eventually echo the winds for the second verse.

(Below, I've roughly analyzed the Chorale. I haven't done this in a hot minute, so stuff might be off, be gentle)

Low strings restate their fight against time to send us into the final sections of the music. Everything comes together: brass fanfare, the ascending flight, ending in an extended version of the chorale stated by the brass and winds while the strings fly high above! The final resolution is loud and full of passion for the coming liberation of Finland!

The Chorale

I took the first verse in the woodwinds and condensed them to a simple four-part score for easier analysis. It's surprisingly simple, seeming to function primarily in Ab Major, dipping briefly into the relative f minor (the original home key), before resolving in Ab Major.

I did find the use of a minor vi chord for the climax of the chorale, as we usually expect something strong like a Major V or I chord here. To me, this signifies the turmoil of the Finnish, reaching for their freedom. The lyrics at these chords are "The skylark calls" in the first verse, and "Finland, Arise" in the second, being very literal in their purpose - the lyrics are about going up, the music is literal ascending.

There's a lot of using inversions in this voicing, which adds to the lack of stability. (There's more nuance than I can put in words in a Tumblr post, but generally this seems to be the case in the chorale.) (I intentionally made the final chord I instead of its voiced first inversion, as that's its purpose, it does seem to actually be voiced inverted, however, and I might be wrong to call it I as such. I digress.)

Closing Thoughts

Finlandia is one of those pieces that I am always able to come back to (and regularly do - it’s on a playlist I shuffle for work) that will always make me feel emotional. The burning desire for liberty and independence! The perseverance against strife! (I’m a sucker for stories that are about overcoming odds or staying strong in the face of adversity.) This tone poem beautifully captures the struggle of the Finnish against the Russian Empire, as well as their determination for freedom.

And the message resonated with the people of Finland. The national orchestra of the time took a revised version on tour in the early 1900s, spreading the name Sibelius around the world. As mentioned, even he was surprised and a bit annoyed at how popular the work was - he was afraid of it overshadowing his larger works! But the accessibility of the music, with such a powerful message, I believe is credit to its success and longevity.

—————————————————

Thanks for reading! Feel free to provide feedback or don’t, I’m a doofus just gushing about music he likes. It was fun for me to research the history of the music and do some analysis!

I have other pieces in mind I want to explore, but if there’s anything you want to share with me, please feel free! I love finding and exploring new music!

Thanks for your time.

[smileygoth]

Til I Hear It From You - Part One (Stranger Things / Empire Records)

Not quite sure where this one is going to go, but I really liked the idea so I've started it and I guess we'll just see! A new employee joins the gang at Empire Records, a man with a mysterious past ...

If you haven't watched the excellent 90s movie Empire Records I highly recommend it, this story takes place almost directly after the events of the movie so it might help you understand the characters a bit more. You can rent it cheap on Amazon Prime or watch it for free on YouTube!

CW: A bit of teenage and young adult angst, suggestion of mental health issues.

Word count: 2510 words

Image found on Google.

1996

Week 1

The day was bright but cold, and Debra huddled down in her hoody while she waited for Joe to turn up and let her into the store. The wind ruffled her short hair, making her wince, and she pulled her hood up, thinking that she really ought to buzz her head again soon. She’d done it on impulse, and though she liked how it looked the upkeep was kind of a bitch. She hadn’t realised it would grow back so quickly.

She was starting to think about maybe dying her hair instead and letting it grow when a black and chrome motorbike pulled into the parking space next to her Vespa, across the road from the store. On it she saw Berko and Gina. She groaned inwardly and rolled her eyes. Since she’d dumped Berko and he’d gotten with Gina, things had been kind of awkward at work. She really didn’t care, but they expected her to, and had been tiptoeing around her for the last few months. It was a small relief when she saw Gina climb off the bike and kiss Berko goodbye through the visor of his helmet before he turned the bike back onto the road and drove away. Gina turned in the direction of the store, her hand raised to keep her blonde hair out of her face, and Debra averted her gaze.

Her eyes fell on a stranger standing across the street, leaning against the railing in front of the beach and smoking a cigarette. The man was dressed in torn black denim jeans and a plain black t-shirt under a black leather jacket. His hair was long, brown and curly, the wind blowing it into his face and obscuring it. He looked like some hair metal rock band wannabe. Dismissing him, she looked away as Gina stopped next to her in front of the store doors.

“Hey, Debs,” Gina said lightly. “How’s it going?”

Debra twitched her lip in a weak attempt at a smile. “Same as always,” she replied. “How do you not freeze to death in those tiny skirts?”

Gina looked down at her exposed legs and shrugged. “Pure stubbornness,” she joked, pulling her jacket (correction: Berko’s jacket) closer around her. Debra waited for a snarky comeback, but of course there was none. Gina was on her best behaviour around Debra these days, and it drove Debra crazy. She actually preferred bitchy, sarcastic Gina to trying-to-be-friends Gina.

Thankfully, before they had to try to force any further conversation, Joe’s car pulled up. They both straightened up and called out their hellos as Joe came up, keys jingling in his hand. He gave them his usual early morning grunt and squeezed between them to unlock the doors. “I’m gonna need you two to take care of opening prep by yourselves this morning,” he said. “Got a new employee starting and I need to sort his shit out.”

“No problem, Joe!” Gina chirped happily. “Anyone we know?”

Joe shook his head. “He’s from out of town. Should be here for nine.”

Checking her watch, which was showing 8:40am, Debra’s eyes slid back to the man on the other side of the road. Gina saw her looking and glanced over. Debra looked back and met her eyes.

“You don’t think …” she mumbled.

Gina made a face. “Not another metalhead,” she complained. “Mark does not need any more encouraging to put his shit on the speakers.”

“Are you coming in or what?” Joe snapped. The girls looked back and saw he was inside the store, holding the door for them.

“Sorry, Joe,” they echoed, and hurried inside.

“Joe,” Debra moaned, “Do we really need more staff? I mean the last guy you tried out turned out to be a total douchebag.”

“Oh God yeah,” Gina agreed. “He was such a creep!”

Joe turned away from closing the doors and gave them an exasperated look. “Since Corey and AJ went off to Boston we are two staff down. Berko’s doing more gigs, Eddie’s still got his pizza gig, Mark’s working double shifts but still somehow only does enough work to fill one, Warren’s still at school so he can only work weekends, and Lucas is working so many hours he’s started sleeping in the staff room. And it’s only been five months. Yes, we need more staff.”

The girls exchanged guilty glances. “Sorry,” Gina mumbled.

Joe’s expression softened. “Look, none of you were supposed to stay here forever,” he said. “You’re all supposed to do what Corey and AJ have done and go off to bigger and better things. No one wants to be a till jockey all their life. And there’s other kids out there who need jobs, so …” He gestured with his hands. “It’s the circle of life. Now come on, get to opening.”

Debra waited til Joe was out of earshot before muttering “What if I do want to stay here forever?”

Gina looked at her. “Really?”

Debra looked away. “I don’t know. Maybe. Forget it.”

Twenty minutes later, after dusting, sweeping and counting, putting in the till floats and turning on the music, Debra turned the sign on the door from Closed to Open. Through the glass she saw the man in the leather jacket immediately flick his cigarette away and start across the road. She groaned again and trudged back to the counter.

The guy in black came in through the door, hesitated in the entrance and looked around before coming over to the counter. He had a grey duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Now that he was closer and his hair was out of his face, Debra could see he was clean-shaven and had large, dark brown eyes. Looking up at her at where she stood behind the raised counter, those eyes looked huge. “Hi,” he said in a voice softer than she’d expected. “I, uh … I’m supposed to start work here today?”

Debra nodded. “Oh yeah, Joe’s expecting you. Head on out back. It’s the double doors back there.” She pointed, and he nodded and turned away without a word. “Hey,” she said, making him turn back. “What’s your name?”

“Oh. Right.” He put his hand to the top of his head and rang his fingers through his hair. Chunky silver rings on his fingers caught the store lights and twinkled. “Wayne.”

“Wayne,” Debra repeated. “Okay. I’m Debra.”

He nodded. “Nice to meet you, Debra,” he muttered, then turned and headed for the doors at the back of the store.

“Evidently,” Debra muttered sourly as he went.

From behind the CD racks, Gina popped out from where she had been watching. “So it was him,” she remarked, hopping up behind the counter. “How’d he seem?”

Debra shrugged. “Quiet. Kinda rude. Not the best first impression.”

“Mm.” Gina leaned over the till, watching as Wayne reached the doors and disappeared inside. “Cute, though.” When Debra glared at her, she shrugged. “What? Oh come on, look at that ass!”

Debra wrinkled her nose as the doors open. “Oh thank God, a customer,” she sighed. “You’re on the floor, Gina.”

Gina shrugged and got down from behind the counter. “Fine,” she said. “Welcome to Empire Records, do you need any help today?”

…

Wayne reappeared half an hour later armed with a plastic bucket full of CDs. As a new starter, his first job was to put away stock and get to know the layout of the store. With the leather jacket gone, Debra noticed that the black shirt he wore was a long sleeved tee with holes at the elbows. The white staff lanyard showed out clearly against the black fabric.

Debra watched him from the counter all morning. He didn’t speak to her at all; despite Gina’s bright, cheerful greetings and attempts to start up a conversation he rebuffed her with short comments each time. When Mark and Berko came in to cover the mid shift he greeted them with small nods and curt smiles. Each time a customer approached him (which wasn’t often since it was a midweek morning) he straightened up, smiled and apologetically directed them to another staff member. He disappeared completely during his lunch break, and at regular points throughout the day, presumably to smoke. Occasionally Joe came out to check on him, but there wasn’t much to check on; he worked with his head down and the plastic stock bucket tucked under one arm. Debra had to hand it to him though – by the time his shift was over he was having no trouble finding where the stock needed to go.

Debra was in Joe’s office helping him with the paperwork when Wayne came into the staff room at the end of their shift. He grabbed his jacket from the empty shelf where his name had been taped over Corey’s, pulled it on, slung his bag over his shoulder, stuck his head into the office to thank Joe, and then he was gone. He was out of the staff room, and presumably the store, long before Lucas and Eddie arrived for the evening shift.

Debra looked at Joe. He met her gaze and shrugged. “What?”

“What do you think of the new guy so far?” she asked.

“Well, he turned up on time, did a shitload of work, didn’t loaf off in the staff room and didn’t sneak out early. Other than the bajillion smoke breaks, I’ve got no complaints so far.”

Debra sighed. “Great,” she muttered.

“You don’t like him?”

“I really couldn’t say. He did his best not to talk to me, or anyone, all day.”

“So he likes his privacy.” Joe shrugged. “Give him a break. From what he told me in his interview he’s been through some shit.”

Debra looked up, interested. “He has?”

“Yeah,” Joe replied. “And no I’m not going to tell you about it, so stop looking at me like that. In fact, your shift’s over, so scram.”

“I just need to finish this,” Debra replied, bending her head over the paperwork.

Joe sighed, but he knew better than to argue with her. “Alright,” he said. “Well, I’m gonna hit the road. I gotta pick Jane up in twenty minutes. When Lucas gets here, tell him he’s late.”

Debra shot Joe a salute as he grabbed his jacket from his chair and swept out of the office in a flash of brown leather and cologne. She had no intention of going home before closing. She didn’t want to spend the evening in her tiny, empty apartment. She didn’t feel safe alone.

…

By the end of the week Wayne had worked a shift every single day. He’d met everyone and had even exchanged a few words with each of them, and Debra was forced to change her initial impression of him to match Joe’s. She found out that he’d discovered the door to the roof on his first day, and that was where he’d been sneaking off to to take his smoke breaks and lunches. From their limited snatches of conversation she gathered that he’d recently moved to Delaware, that he had a room at a nearby motel while he looked for his own place, and that he didn’t have any family. Beyond that, he refused to tell her anything. She was secretly delighted with how he gently and politely he rebuffed Gina’s flirting and Berko’s attempts to recruit him into his band, both of which were far from subtle. He seemed to enjoy Mark’s goofiness, was nothing but respectful to Joe, and seemed to have no idea what to make of Lucas … which Debra had to admit was fair.

There was one thing she noticed that stood out to her as odd, however. Often when somebody called to Wayne, they had to repeat his name two or three times to get his attention, particularly when he was deep in thought. This hadn’t bothered Debra much at first; maybe he’d blown his eardrums at one too many concerts, or maybe he just zoned out a lot. Nothing weird about that. But it was the first time he met Eddie that a suspicion started to form in her mind.

Eddie swept in in his usual abrupt way for his evening shift, smiling and calling out hellos to everyone, a box of pizza in one hand wafting the fragrant aroma of melted cheese and pepperoni in his wake. He burst into the staff room and dropped the pizza on the table. “Hey, guys!” he cried. “Sorry I’m late, but I brought pizza in case anyone’s hungry!” His usual greeting: he was always late because he came straight from his shift at the pizza restaurant, and he always brought leftover pizza.

Debra was on the sofa, taking a break and looking through a magazine. Wayne was at the shelves, pulling on his jacket. Debra looked up at Eddie’s entrance and smiled. “Hey Eddie,” she said. “Is there meat on that?”

There was a loud thump as Wayne’s duffel bag slipped from his fingers and hit the floor at his feet. Debra looked round to see him looking at her like he’d seen a ghost. Quickly, he turned away, picked up his duffel bag and almost ran out of the doors. She watched him leave, confused. Eddie watched him go to, then turned to Debra and said, “Who was that?”

“The new guy,” Debra replied.

“He allergic to cheese or something?” Eddie joked weakly.

Debra shrugged and went back to her magazine. “No idea.”

But she did have an idea, and the more she thought about it the more it irritated her, like a speck of grit itching away in her mind. That evening, while Eddie and Lucas were on the shop floor covering the last couple of hours, she went into the office and looked for Wayne’s application form. She knew where it would be; she’d been helping Joe with all the paperwork for a while now, surreptitiously learning everything she needed to know to manage the place herself one day, so she knew where to look. She pulled the form out of Wayne’s employee folder and looked through it.

His name was given as ‘Wayne Cunningham’. His address, disappointingly, was the motel he’d already told her about. No former employers, no details on schools. He hadn’t produced any ID. Debra tapped the paper against the filing cabinet and thought. He’d mentioned he had a van, so he definitely had a driver’s license – or at least had had one at some point. Why hadn’t he shown it to Joe? And why had Joe accepted a guy who hadn’t given him any indication of who he was or where he was from? What had he said in his interview?

Joe had a habit of taking in waifs and strays to work at the store – pretty much every one of them was a messed-up kid with some kind of issues. So Debra wasn’t surprised to find Wayne’s application so empty, but it was frustrating. Wayne had a story – maybe a good one – and she wanted to know it.

[knighthelm-aes]

Twisters was a hilarious experience for a lowkey weather nerd

In the first scene a tornado is coming and the female lead is like “don’t go to the overpass, that’s the worst place you can go!” And I was like good this is good messaging. Then they call run to the overpass anyway and 3 of them die.

In case you were wondering, there’s a moving scale as to the types of cover for tornadoes on the road. If you’re in a car, you should first try to drive away from the tornado, turning parallel to the path of the nado. Obviously this is a tornado cashing movie so it’s not the choice they were going to make lol so anyway. If you’re in a car and you can’t escape, but you might be able to get to cover, leave the car. If your car is the only cover left, stay in the car, get as low as possible and cover yourself.

Sheltering in an overpass creates a wind tunnel that will launch any debris at you at like terrifying speed. The wind will be too powerful, you will be sucked out and thrown. Do not do that. People kind of forget that tornadoes aren’t just wind, they’re essentially a huge shredding machine full of dirt, metal, glass, potentially cars and houses. Entire live animals have essentially been cleaned to the bone because of tornadoes. They are very scary.

Like people drove their normal ass cars into tornadoes like 5 times. The cars did get beat up a bit but I was laughing because people have been designing machines to withstand the power of tornadoes for years and uh they have to look like this

I did actually like that there was a team of youtuber weather chasers. They portrayed them as jackasses at first which like, lol, they’re youtubers, but they kind of tone it down a bit more as the movies go on. Amateur weather chasers are actually extremely cool people who do a lot of research and data collecting that is vital to the way tornadoes are measured after the fact and research for preventing disasters. A lot of weather watchers are the first people to call in to local areas that a tornado has formed/touched down, and provide photos/video to local news stations which help people to take the storm seriously. They’re a great community who have tons of respect for each other, and for the victims of tragedies. They don’t just find weather cool, they care about the impact these storms can have and want to help people.

My only criticism to that aspect of the movie was 1) they shouldn’t have had the youtubers playing copyrighted music while they were livestreaming lol and 2) when they snapped to the livestream they could have had a hilarious live comment section

I loved that when we went from new york to the midwest there was immediately a show of 3 people in front of their trucks and they were all wearing flannel. Just a nitpick, if it’s tornado season, the midwestern uniform is jeans and a tshirt of their favorite sports team or classic rock band— you can decide if a character might be the type to cut off the sleeves.

I did also love that both times a tornado hit a town, it was shown that the EMS were on the scene right away. The movie showed the aftermath of what a storm can have on towns which I liked. The characters in the movie went to help people and give out food. That is one thing the Midwest is really good at, when there’s been a disaster or a community in need people just kind of automatically go. The last storm that hit a town near me, the news was actually discouraging people from going later in the night because there were already so many volunteers 🥲

I thought the SOUND of the tornadoes was spot on. They actually do have this awful growl that booms from the sky. The CGI was phenomenal.

I liked that I think a couple town(s? Plural?) were named after notable places where significant tornadic events happened. The last town was El Reno, which is of course where widest tornado ever recorded was. It was 2.6 MILES (4.2km) long!!!! Here’s pics of the monstrosity

I did like that the tornadoes were never shown to last for like forever because they rarely last upwards of 10 minutes.

I also liked that the guy who was threatening to leave a bad yell review got karma killed by the tornado.

Also the nay sayer who was like “9 times out of 10 it’s a false alarm” about the sirens because NO. Sirens go off automatically when there are the right ingredients for a tornado and detect when there is either touchdown in a nearby county, or the potential for one (I can’t remember sorry). The emergency alert systems are not like cautionary notices THEY INDICATE EMERGENCIES

They also got the sound of the sirens good, however, they did NOT get the like… boom? They make very well? Idk like you can feel that shit in your SOUL and I was like hmmm…. Meh… couldve bass boosted the fuck outta that.

I liked that the good guy team of chasers and the bad guy team were equally diverse lmfaooo and i LOVED that the evil bank dude was like an old white guy who was dressed like a 60’s movie cowboy

I also like that the main character essentially had two boyfriends the whole movie? Like the movie wants you to think she’ll go for the youtuber but tbh she had as much if not more onscreen chemistry with the friend from her first chaser team. They both express feelings for her and in the end, they all are on the same team so?????Polyamory!!!!

There were a couple of like “god bless america” scenes but like idk it was bearable. Like it was at a rodeo and unfortunately they are like that.

The country music in this movie however WAS unbearable. It was like the worst kind too. Like yeah I get it most places that’s all they listen too but jeeeeeeez

I DO think some people should NOT be allowed to wear cowboy hats and boots and lots of them were in this movie.

They also had like a random Brit in the movie and I thought it was a good way to introduce the terminology and science into the script. He was also a ninny so I loved him.

Idk. 8/10? The tornado scenes were tense and for the most part they spoke about the terminology and science correctly. Idk about the actual like… possibility of being able to disrupt a tornado because I am just a weather nerd, not even a tornado fan or a meteorologist lol. It’s just a silly movie-ism so like whatever. I thought it was respectful and similar enough to the original while also having a completely new team of ppl who weren’t really related to the first movie. The only recurring character was the Dorothy 4 machine from the first one LOL

On like a purely writing standpoint, was kind of bummed the last tornado event wasn’t like the Dead Man Walking/ multi vortex tornado or a Twinado which I think is more fitting for the Twisters title. They’re also really SCARY too. There was 1 Twinado in the movie but it happened kind of early :/

[applesapplesimrunningwithapples]

Wisteria chapter two

( chapter 1 here )

“ oh what do you do for work “ pantalone said taking a sip of tea dad brought out,

“ I’m a events coordinator for the knights of Favonius but I’m on vacation right now “ I said chipping off some of my nail polish, “ oh baizhu said you dealt with spirits “ he said.

“ yeah I also do that i but on my own time i don’t do it for money “ I said pouring my cup.

“ oh really but on a different topic where are you from “ he said, “ I was born in fontaine but I live in mondstat now “ I said stirrings my cup.

“ and your gloves “ he said, i set my cup down and said “ oh it’s to protect my wrists if I get into a duel, pantalone sir if your curiosity has been quelled I’m going to retire for the night because tomorrow I’m heading back to mondstat “ .

“ good night Alexia “ baizhu said and I set off to my room.

( the next morning) 

“ good morning dad “I said throwing my bag over my shoulder getting ready to head out.

“ it’s early and have you ate breakfast yet “ dad said putting bowl in my hands and making me sit down.

“ dad I need to head out soon or I won’t be back In mondstat in till after dark and I don’t want kaeya to worry “ I said trying to get away from the table, “ and you never takes breaks “ Baizhu said putting a bowl in front of qiqi.

“ qiqi is going to be sad to see you go “ qiqi said, and I said “ qiqi I might not be here in person but I’ll be here in the wind” I said hugging her and I got ready to head out.

I made my way through stone gate and towards mondstats boarder, “ I can’t ever get over that view “ I muttered underneath my breath and continued on to the city.

“ hey guys “ I said to the guards at the front gate and headed to my apartment, 

When I got inside I’m immediately hit with the smell of dinner “ kaeya your off work early “ I said setting my bag down and taking off my shoes and hugging him, “ yeah I asked Jean if I could get the evening off, because I knew you were going to be back early “ he said kissing my head.

“ I’m going to wash up and then can we cuddle “ I said letting go of him and walking off, “ sure thing my lovely star “ kaeya said, and he started to plate up the food and pouring some wine.

I walk into our living room running my hands through my soggy hair, “ you look nice with your hair wavy like that “ he said handing me a wine glass “ thank you my love  “ I said taking a sip  and sitting down next to him.

“ your welcome my star and I made your favorite “ he said pulling me closer, “ thank you so much and how did you know I’d be back early, also I hope your work load wasn’t to bad while I was away “ I responded digging into my food.

“ hmmm I have my ways and it wasn’t to much work for me to handle love “ he said setting my plate down and refilled my glass.

“ kaeya you didn’t have to refill my glass for me “ I said cuddling up to him “ my star do you really think I’d leave you with out a drink “ he said putting a hand on his chest with a gasp and I chuckled at his remark, “ no not really but I’ll have to fill your cup up next dear “ I said.

As We spent the night drinking and talking about my vacation we decided to head to bed, I slipped my hair into a loose braid and fluffed my pillow and climbed in next to kaeya who kissed my lips, “ have sweet dreams my star “ he said tucking his head against my chest.

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Spotify Playlists and Starbucks Cards | Angel Torres x Reader

Prompt: Pain

Word: 1389

Fandom: Nope (2022)

A/N: Super late Writer's Month entry. Been meaning to write for him. I’m so happy that Brandon was in this movie. I loved his character from The OA and I was sad that it got canceled, so it was nice to see him getting projects like this. How do I title again?

Summary: One late shift at Fry’s Electronics with Angel led you to joining him and the Haywoods on the quest for the Oprah shot of a UFO. The aftermath of a series of adrenaline inducing events came peace, silence, and a little sense of normalcy.

-

You gradually came to, finding yourself tightly cocooned in a tattered piece of tarp that you, Angel, and Antlers were huddled under, trying to get the perfect shot. The sun was going down and you could feel the wind through the tarp’s opening. You wrestled your way out, sliding your body the rest of the way. Once free, you slowly rose onto your knees and looked around. You were far from the Haywood house, the lights like a beacon through the darkening landscape. 

A beam of light was quickly making their way towards you and you realized in your hazy state that it was Angel. There was a flood of relief that washed over you as he came closer, littered with cuts and scrapes but still in one piece.

“Did we do it?” you asked, your legs giving in when you tried to stand.

Angel swiftly swooped over, catching you by the waist. “Yeah, yeah, we did it,” he said, smiling.

“And the others? Em? OJ?” You looked over his shoulder at the house again, not seeing any movement through the windows.

“They’re making their way back right now. Em made it all the way to Jupiter’s Claim and got the shot. She managed to kill Jean Jacket, well we think she did, and we got OJ back. Then, the news crew showed up, so they had to deal with that right after.” 

He made you lean onto him as the two of you made your way back to the house. There was a  peaceful silence that fell between you two, using the rest of your strength to get back. All you wanted to do now was collapse in a giant bed and hibernate for a few days.  Once inside the house, you and Angel slumped onto the nearest kitchen chair, catching your breath.

“I think we got some footage on the side that we could –”

“I don’t really care about that now,” you interrupted. You rubbed your face, spreading dirt that still remained on your palm. “We need to take a look at those cuts.”

“I’m fine,” Angel said, jerking forward as you slowly got out of your chair.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

He sighed in defeat, pointing in the direction down the hall. You scrunch your fingers through his hair as you pass him, a habit you started after the first few weeks of working together at the electronics store. Once in the bathroom, you rifled through their medicine cabinet and under the sink for what you needed to treat Angel’s cuts.

When you came back, he had just finished wiping himself down with a wet paper towel, his body slumped against the kitchen counter. You carried a chair closer and he let you pull him down to sit, his eyes closing slowly as exhaustion set in again. 

Without a word, you got to work laying out your supplies, kneeling next to his chair, and started cleaning his wounds. They weren’t too deep, but you could see where the barbs snagged into his skin when he was being sucked in by Jean Jacket. When you started cleaning one of his bigger cuts, he winced in pain, his eyes opening just a crack.

“Hey,” you said, smiling softly.

The corners of his lips slowly turned up. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Can I tell you something? Usually I would have reserved it for, like, before our potential death, but since it’s after and we survived –”

“What is it, Angel?”

He huffed, his eyes more awake than before as he looked at you. “I think I like you. Like, really like you.”

You paused your cleaning, your brain trying to catch up with the words he just said. “Are you saying that you only wait until there’s a situation where you might die to confess romantic feelings for someone?” you asked incredulously. Sure, he just confessed, but your mind works in a strange way to cope with the fact that your best friend actually had feelings for you.

“Is that what you got out of that? I just bled my heart out –”

“Not exactly a Shakespeare or a Jane Austen way of confessing, so I wouldn’t say bled it out –”

But I’m serious right now,” he insisted, reaching out for your wrist.

You hoped that he couldn’t feel your pulse racing as he leaned closer. “I’m serious, too. You didn’t even tell me before we tried to get Jean Jacket, you told me after. You could have told me weeks ago.”

He snorted. “We’re friends. I couldn’t just spring that on you like that. Now, we’ve just gone through some shit together, so I figured, you know, now would be a good time. I’m not expecting you to like me back, I’m just putting it out there. From the time you gave me your Starbucks card to the hair scrunching, the jokes after a customer complaint on the phone, and sci-fi movie debates. Every day, I fell a little bit more… in love with you.”

“Jesus, Gellie Bean. You fell in love with me because I gave you my Starbucks card? There was only $8 in that thing.”

“Come on, dude,” he groaned, leaning back again and rubbing his face in frustration and embarrassment.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to wrap my head around this since whenever I bring up something that remotely reminds you of your ex, you kept whining about how she ditched you and now she’s got a pilot on the CW or something. I know you always offer to cover when I need a  break at work, and you’d introduce me to your favorite music and shared your spotify playlist with me, and you’d get me Starbucks and a spinach feta wrap with that Starbucks card that you’ve kept, but how was I supposed to know that you were even interested in me when you sounded like you were still hung up about your ex?”

Angel opened his mouth, then shut it with a click, nodding in understanding. “I… yeah, I can see how that’s confusing.” He scratched his head, scrunching his face in thought before clearing his throat. “So, uh, wanna go grab a bite some time? Just us two?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, maybe some spinach feta wrap with your Starbucks card or something,” he teased.

“You’re stupid.” 

You shoved his shoulder, shaking your head with a smile. He grinned widely, pulling at your wrist until your faces were inches apart, your elbows resting on his thighs. Your stomach fluttered as he gazed adoringly at you before swooping down to capture your lips. You lifted yourself up until you were almost straddling him as you kissed back, running a hand through his hair.

“Listen, you two are cute, but can we not deal with this now?” Emerald said, strolling through the kitchen to get something from the fridge.

“Uh, when did you guys get back?” Angel asked, clearing his throat.

“Just now. We got a guest room, in case y’all forgot, so if you guys wanna…,” Emerald trailed off with a cheeky wink, handing a cold beer to her brother who was silently lounging in the other room.

Your face heated as you pulled away from Angel. “Thanks, Em, but I think we’re gonna get something to eat. You guys want anything?”

Emerald looked over at OJ who raised a thumbs up. “No, we’re good for now. Enjoy your date, lovebirds.”

“Thanks, Em,” you and Angel said, quickly cleaning up the kitchen before heading out.

Emerald watched the two of you scramble out to the van and smirked. “You owe me money,” she said.

OJ rolled his eyes. “I don’t remember making a bet with you.”

“Well, I remember. I remember saying how if those two don’t get their shit together, we should do that thing that dad talked about to breed horses.”

“We train horses, we don’t breed them. We are not putting our two friends into a dark room so they could get together,” OJ said.

“We’re not, because we don’t have to now!”

OJ lied down on the couch with a sigh, setting his beer on the side table before closing his eyes.

“So…,” Em started again. 

OJ hummed, telling her he was listening.

“How are we going to clean the house outside?”

OJ opened his eyes again. “Fuck.”

[hiddles-and-skittles]

Ride

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,585

Summary: Gatherings can't be that bad, right? Especially if your boyfriend convinces you to ditch early for a ride home on his motorcycle. It's just unfortunate he's gotta rile you up beforehand.. .

Warnings: 18+, kinda masturbation/edging by motorcycle???, teasing, pet names; sweetheart, doll, cocky Bucky (what? He's definitely a warning)

Notes: This idea came to me and I absolutely could NOT put it down. I don't typically write smut or anything along those lines, so any feedback is appreciated! This is way out of my comfort zone😅

____________

"Come on, Sam is waiting on us."

You roll your eyes and dramatically throw yourself back on the bed. "Yeah well, Sam can wait. I don't even want to be there."

"And you think I do?" He calls to you, pulling on his gloves and nearly stomping back towards your room.

"Bucky, I don't want to go." He stands in your doorway and you pout at him, making him sigh.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. "I know. But who says we gotta stay all night?" At this, you raise up from your mopey position. "We make an appearance, talk to Sam for a little while, then get lost in the crowd and disappear. He won't even notice."

You hum thoughtfully. "Good point." You swing your legs over the bed and slip into your Converse shoes, plastering a smile to your face and gleefully skipping due to the fact you'll get to leave early.

Sam was having a reunion party with some buddies from his Afghanistan tours. It was a huge event downtown, but neither you nor Bucky was a big fan of crowds. So the two of you only considered going in support of Sam.

Bucky stopped on the apartment complex's steps, narrowing his eyes at an empty parking spot. "He took my bike."

You snorted. "Cab it is."

________

Shortly you arrive at the event and he opens the cab door for you, his knuckles grazing down your arm to catch your hand in his. The action sends a shudder through your body and he smirks, stopping to give you a scheming look.

"What?" you ask him, furrowing your eyebrows and squeezing his hand.

"Nothing," he simpers.

You decide to be suspicious of him for the rest of the evening.

There are a plethora of people but you both advance through the crowd in search of Sam, Bucky stopping you to point out that Sam is quite preoccupied. He nudges you towards the most empty table he can find so you can sit down. On either side of you both is an empty seat, and the rest of the chairs are filled by half-drunk, burly men sporting drinks.

One of them turns to you and introduces himself and his comrades. A few of them take quick note of Bucky's name, quoting something Sam has mentioned about him before then thanking Bucky for his service. You wrap your arm around his middle and look up at him with pride, nuzzling yourself closer to your soldier.

You're both quiet as the vets around you continue their chatter about their best times, their laughter making the atmosphere light. You have to admit, you might actually be enjoying yourself. You're lost in a story about a guy teaching his kid how to hot wire a car when a hand squeezes your thigh.

Your knee immediately jerks and hits the table and you have to bite your bottom lip to stifle a yelp. A few heads turn in your direction and as you feel the warmth spreading to your face, you feign a sneeze, apologizing for the interruption. Bucky remains dead panned, although the sides of his mouth subtly quirk up. You glare at him. "Bless you, sweetheart," he patronizes. You shift uncomfortably as the men return to their conversations.

His hand makes its way back to your thigh and you inhale sharply through your nose. "Bucky," you whimper, swallowing hard.

"Gotta keep quiet for me, doll, or I'll stop," he tuts lowly. Instinctively you spread your legs a little to make enough room for his hand. Your breath hitches as he circles your clit with his middle finger, lightly tracing down your clothed mound. You curse yourself for wearing jeans, because the thickness of the denim heavily affects the way he feels against you.

But you want more.

He presses harder until Sam struts over to the table, and Bucky innocuously throws his arm around your shoulder. You huff in frustration and he chuckles.

"Surprised you two haven't left yet," Sam laughs, sipping a beer and slapping a hand over Bucky's shoulder.

"Why would we do that?" Bucky asks sarcastically.

Sam rolls his eyes playfully. "Stay awhile, enjoy the sunset and have a drink. They're all on the house." You both pause in thought. "I knew that would convince you!"

"Well," you start. "The sky is gorgeous right now. Maybe just one drink till the sun sets."

Someone then calls for Sam and he excuses himself, telling you he'll see you back at home later. You watch him disappear into the crowd, reality hitting you that you're still worked up from Bucky's teasing. And all it takes is a devious look from him to get you riled up again. You shoot up from your seat to thank the vets around you for their service, and tell them that it was nice to meet them, but you have some personal matters to attend to at home. Bucky follows suit, grabbing your hand.

You try to push your way through the crowd without an obvious, horny spring in your step, and as you pass by a table, Bucky fishes a beer with his free hand without stopping.

"I'll call the cab back here and we can-"

"No."

"What?" You stop in your tracks and Bucky lets go of you, continuing to walk to where his motorcycle is parked. He beckons you over with a crooked finger as he mounts the bike, and you fold your arms over your chest, cocking an eyebrow.

"What? It's not like he'll be able to drive tonight anyway." He foots the kick stand, placing his beer in the back compartment then bringing his hands up to twist around the handlebars. "Come on, let's go watch the sunset."

"The-the sunset?" You ask incredulously.

"What? You said it was pretty, let's go get a closer look." Your eye twitches at his feigned ignorance.

"Bucky I swear to god if you don't take me right now-"

He grins. "Then I just won't take you at all." He revs the engine once to accentuate his threat and you groan. "Come on or I'll leave you."

"Fine."

You march over to him and swing your leg over the bike, nestling yourself into his back and situating your hands on top of his shoulders. The engine roars to life, the heads of onlookers catching your eye and in one swift motion he kicks it into gear and you're off.

The winds whips your hair and licks at your face, causing you to constantly tear it away from your eyes. Once free, you take in the view before you, ever amazed at how the sun sets on the water; the sky glows with an orange and pink hue, making it look like a painting. And for a moment you forget about your throbbing lower half until you shift to get a little more comfortable on the seat and oh. Oh.

Your hands impulsively tighten around his shoulders and your jaw goes slack, gasping as the vibration from the motorcycle hits just the right spot. You let out a light moan and no sooner clap a hand over your mouth, hoping Bucky hasn't heard you. Your head slumps forward on his back.

"You good back there?" He yells over his shoulder.

"Y-yeah! Uh-all good!" you wheeze, attempting not to sound too out of sorts. The street is bare as he stops at a red light, and you try to breathe so as not to let the pleasure overtake you. It's not that you don't want to let go, it's just that you know you'll never hear the end of it from him of you do.

When the light turns green, he revs the engine so many times you lose count. Your mind is swirling in ecstacy and you start to pant faster, clinging onto Bucky for dear life as you near your release.

You screw your eyes shut, the coil finally snapping while you bite down harshly on the shoulder of his leather jacket. By this point you're unabashedly gasping and moaning, your hips bucking wildly into the seat as your clit is overstimulated to the point it hurts.

You pray for the ride to your apartment to end while he speeds up, causing you to sob into the waves of pleasure the vibrations are granting you. You claw mindlessly at his torso until he finally slows to a stop, and you catch your breath to come to your senses. You can't help the nagging, coherent thought that the ride home had taken a lot longer than usual and you realize the sky is now completely black and littered with stars.

He knew. That fucker knew.

Bucky dismounts the vehicle and stands before you with a hand on his hip and a smug demeanor. You lean forward on your hands, still heaving to try and even out your breath.

"Enjoy the ride?" Bucky taunts, flat lining his lips.

"Fuck-" pant  "-you," you nearly spit. He chuckles darkly. "You were edging me, with a goddamn motorcycle."

He scratches the back of his head. "I might have added a little extra something just for you."

You raise your head. "Why don't we go upstairs and you let me get my revenge?"

He huffs. "What's the point? You already came all over my seat."

"It wasn't your cock," you retort, untangling your wobbly legs from the bike. Bucky reaches out to steady you, pulling you to him by your waist.

"Fair point, pretty girl."

[lovelybarnes]

talk- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, mentions of other avengers like tony stark, sam wilson, natasha romanoff, steve rogers, etc. warnings: suggestive content, making out about: y/n and bucky come up with a code. a/n: i came up with this due to a completely unrelated scene in pll

the code was never officially set up. the first time he said it and dragged you out of the room, you genuinely believed you’d be discussing something serious in the confines of the quinjet closet. you had crossed your arms as you waited for him to shut the door, barely able to look up at him and open your mouth to start talking before his lips crashed onto yours. “bucky-” you had mumbled through his lips, reciprocating anyway while your eyes fluttered closed because the taste of him was so purely addicting. “i thought you-” his arms looped around your waist to pull you closer, making a smile pull on your lips while you kissed him back, “needed to talk-” your words were cut off by a squeak when he pushed you against the wall, “to me.”

bucky pulled away from you to catch his breath, dropping his forehead against yours, his deep breathing filling the small space you were both occupying. “you just looked so pretty, doll,” he explained, his hand rubbing circles into your arm, “i had to get you alone somehow.”

you laughed breathily, reaching your hand out to caress the side of his face and kissing his nose. “so naughty,” you teased, “pretending like you need to talk to me just so you have an excuse to make out with me.” bucky shrugged, chasing your lips again with his, “can you blame me? look at ya, doll.”

you chuckled before tilting your head at him and tangling your fingers together, “okay,” you decided, “if either of us needs to be with the other for a little while, we’ll say we need to talk and sneak away. deal?” you offered, grinning when he nodded and kissed you again.

-

the next time is after a stressful mission, when most of the avengers sit in the jet, dirty and each angry at the other for mistakes and stupid things done wrong during the mission. you and bucky are seated across from each other, silent and itching to be closer together. there’s another argument beginning between steve and tony, and bucky cuts in after noticing the anxious bounce of your leg, “y/n, i need to talk to you,” he says tensely, making all eyes land on him, “in private,” he clarifies, and you nod before letting him pull you up by your wrist, dragging you to the bathroom.

the moment you get in, you expect it, but the butterflies come anyways when his lips smash onto yours, hands touching every part of you they can and completely disregarding how dirty you are from the past events of the mission. your face is littered with small cuts and stained with blood, but it doesn’t stop his flesh fingers from running along your jawline, and the mixture of blood and dirt on his own face is completely unimportant to you when your hands pull him closer.

“hmm, how do you still look so good after all of that?” he hums against you, repeatedly pressing kisses to your mouth while you giggle. “i could ask you the same thing,” you mumble in response, gasping lightly when one of his wandering hands collides with something loudly.

a knock interrupts his affection a minute later, making him pause, his face hovering above yours. “is everything okay in there?” natasha’s voice asks through the door, and you push bucky off you gently, trying to straighten you both up, “uh-” you clear your throat, “yeah, yeah, everything’s fine!” you assure, reaching out to fix bucky’s crooked collar, cocking your head in warning, although a smile grows on your lips, when he presses a kiss to your hand.

“alright, well, we’re landing in an hour, and tony and steve stopped arguing. you’ve been in there for a while.”

you cringe, squeezing bucky’s hand once more before nodding at him, trying to seem a lot more composed than you were.

you weren’t sure how a trained assassin and geniuses or enhanced individuals didn’t notice how your hair was a little more mussed up, and how bucky’s mood was considerably lighter after “talking to you” than before.

-

you were the one to give the code later, during a meeting where steve was trying to explain the logistics of a mission but couldn’t because everyone kept interrupting him to poke fun at his expense. bucky had his hair tied back in a bun you’d seen him make in the morning, a crooked smile on his face while he showed it off to you proudly. you hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him exactly how much you liked it, and, paired with the leather jacket he was wearing and the tight black jeans and shirt, your fingers were tingling to touch him.

bucky had just cut steve off for the third time to make fun of him, metal plates along his arm moving softly, making you swallow. “bucky. i need to talk to you in private,” you told him, ignoring the exasperated look steve was sending you and trying to make your voice as stern as possible. “uh, yeah, of course,” bucky nods, standing up. “we’ll be right back,” you excuse, sending a not-so-genuinely-apologetic look to steve and leading bucky out of the conference room. you can’t even wait until you both can sneak into a storage closet before you connect your lips, hand splayed on his chest as his own cup your cheek. “what’s gotten into you?” he questions, smirk playing on his lips while you peck them. “i like this whole look,” you inform him, fingers sneaking into his hair. “you know we could get caught?” he queries. you hum, continuing to kiss him, “we’ll just tell them the truth: that it’s your fault for looking so good.”

your ears catch movement in the conference room and you begrudgingly pull away from your boyfriend, the pads of your fingers rubbing at his kiss bitten lips in an effort to scrub the evidence of your own away. you hurriedly tell him to fix his hair while you smooth your shirt, other hand tucking away his loose strands behind his ear. you’re barely composed the second the door opens. “capsicle needs you both inside,” tony says, pausing and eyeing you both. you clear your throat and nod stiffly, walking back into the room with bucky at your tail. “what happened to telling them the truth?” he teases quietly enough for only you to hear.

you roll your eyes, your face heating.

-

bucky has been staring at you for the past half hour of the movie you and the rest of the avengers are watching. you can practically hear the words before they come out of his mouth, but your eyes remain glued on the screen, eyes nearly watering at the animated scene in front of you.

“y/n, i need to talk to you, alone,” he finally voices, and you force your eyes away from the screen enough to nod, avoiding the eyes of the rest of the avengers. you can hear sam’s quiet whisper of ‘ooh, someone’s in trouble,’ but choose to pretend you don’t as you leave the popcorn with wanda. “be right back,” you mumble, trailing behind bucky.

you’re in the kitchen this time, and his arms circle around your waist in no time, pulling you impossibly closer and slamming his lips against yours the moment he’s able to. humming, you wind your arms around his neck, fingers gently toying with the soft hair at the nape of his neck as his own vibranium ones rub circles into the skin of your waist. you squeak when he squeezes your hip, pushing you towards the counter until you are practically hanging off of his neck because of your wobbly knees.

neither of you hear when someone comes inside the kitchen, eyes on the floor while he begins talking, “hey you guys-” he cuts himself off when he notices the scene in front of him, grimacing. “oh,” sam realizes, before wrinkling his nose in distaste, “man, don’t do this in the kitchen, we make food here!” he complains, looking away while bucky puts you down, your eyes fluttering and lips swollen, hands wrapped around the counter.

“sorry,” you lie pathetically, still a little dizzy while bucky shoots a look at you and smirks. sam gags.

[captains-simp]

Dark!Valkyrie and pet play, took r from midguard and chose to keep her, potential boot jumping if your comfortable if not idm COGRATS ON 1K 👏🏼👏🏼

Shout out to this anon that's waited months for this fic and never got impatient dkwksnsmwm

@romanoff062 helped me a lot with ideas so thank you bestie and some elements of the fic are inspired by @peachyteabuck 's fic And I Plead which I highly recommend y'all check out

2k words

Warnings: innocence kink, non-con/dub-con (R doesn't fully understand) forced heavy pet play, ownership, boot jumping, spanking, degrading, strap on sex, mild amnesia and kidnapping

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

New Asgard was a beautiful place. That much became apparent before you even set foot in the small town. All it took was a brief glimpse from the winding roads across the hills a few miles away and you instantly wanted to take a closer look.

You were on a road trip; had been for a while. It was a solo trip. A chance to get away from the hectic life back home and for you to figure things out. You had just graduated college and like many of your fellow students you had no idea what you were going to do next. So when you heard some people talking about a road trip, you decided you would give it a try aswell. You had a brief route planned but you ended up stopping off at a lot more places than you thought, even then none of them helped you with whatever it was you were trying to get out of that journey.

You parked up along the edge of town and grabbed your phone and wallet before getting out of the car and started towards the buildings.

It was starting to get late but there was still a fair few locals around who all waved or smiled at you as wandered around. You let the distant and lively murmer in the middle of town direct you and it wasn't long until you spotted a pub.

You knew you should have booked a place to stay for the night or few days, but you had been on the road for a while and wanted to enjoy the unique atmosphere of the town as soon as you could. Surprisingly, you weren't tired either.

A few people greeted you in the pub, clearly noting the new face, but they didn't draw too much attention to you which made you feel all the more at ease there.

You bought a beer and sent a quick text to your parents to let them know you were safe and took a sip of your beer as you admired the art work across the walls. They ranged from tapestries to paintings and even some sculptures, the likes of which you had never seen before. They had a distinct Viking style to them but with a regal touch.

"You like them?" You looked to your right to see a dark haired woman leaning on the counter besides you, nursing her own beer.

She had an easy smile on her lips that hinted at something more, as did her hazel eyes that watched you carefully. She was beautiful to say the least and it took you a moment to find the words ton respond.

"They're amazing, where are they from?" You asked as your eyes flickered away from hers, unable to hold her strong gaze.

"A very special place." Was all she said. "Valkyrie." The woman declared as she raised her bottle to yours. You smiled and tapped the top of yours against hers.

"Y/n." You replied. Valkyrie hummed.

"And what brings you to New Asgard, y/n?"

Convosation flowed between you easily from that point on. You found yourself telling the older woman a lot about yourself, more than you had ever told a stranger. You just couldn't seem to help it, she encouraged you to tell her everything and you did.

Once you realised you barely knew anything about Valkyrie the convosation took a swift turn to handsy flirtation. You didn't mind, of course, but it sure did surprise you when Valkyrie shamelessly pulled out the cliques and let her hand wander boldly up your thigh.

You were captivated by the stranger. And you wanted to experience her further, everything she had to offer you would willingly take.

You groaned quietly when you back hit the hard wall of the pub. Valkyrie pulled you into a rough, demanding kiss that you could hardly keep up with, only stopping when she pulled away begrudgingly, as though she wasn't running out of oxygen like you were.

"I want to see you come undone." She whispered lowly against your ear. You gave a whine and closed your eyes with a smile.

"Come on." Was all she said as she grabbed your hand and led you through the empty street back to her house that seemed somewhat larger than the ones around it.

You were barely through the door and she was undressing you. Her hands ran frantically over your body that was admittedly growing tired and weaker from your travels. It didn't help that everytime Valkyrie's fingertips danced across your bare skin you melted just a little more.

You whined longingly when she dipped her slender fingers through your wet folds. She glided them over your sensitive clit that was begging for any attention but she soon withdrew those torturous fingers once more.

"You want something, pet?" You head was too clouded with need to pay much attention to the nickname. You had no prior experience with anything of the sort, no real understanding of what Valkyrie had planned.

"I need you." You whined again and went to kiss her only for the older woman to chuckle and pull something out of her pocket.

She attached the collar swiftly. It was locked around your neck before you could object and even if you did, it would have been futile.

"What's this?" You asked, dumbfounded.

"Your collar. All good pets have them." Valkyrie said simply and reached her foot around the back of your legs to pull forward with her foot, making you fall to your knees with a thud.

"What does that mean?" You asked again, confusion and mild panic starting to rise.

"That you belong to me, so you better behave." Valkyrie warned before pressing her boot covered foot between your legs and pressing down on your neglected clit. You moaned despite yourself and grinded down on the polished material out of pure instinct.

You lifted your hands up to grip onto Valkyries thigh as you dragged your cunt along her boot but she slapped them away. You whined, not knowing what to do with your hands.

"Hands behind your back." Valkyrie instructed and you did so quickly, glad to have something to follow.

You built up a desperate rhythm quickly as you looked up at Valkyrie pleadingly. You needed your release badly.

"Please." You tried. Your wetness was covering her boot and you were so close to releasing everything you had onto the boot.

"No." Valkyrie defied as she yanked her boot away from you. You whined loudly and she tutted as she grabbed your collar and pulled you up to lean over the edge of her bed.

"Please make me cum." You whimpered, earning you a harsh smack to your ass.

"Pets don't speak unless spoken to. Seems like we have a lot of training ahead of us." Valkyrie said darkly. You groaned again, not knowing what the hell that meant and wanting to know what you were getting in to.

You tried to look back at her but your head was forced down into the sheets with one hand while Valkyrie's other started to undo her zip.

She pulled her jeans down and off swiftly and threw them across the room to reveal the strap on she had been hiding. This only became apparent to you when you felt the large head against your entrance, bringing out another breathy whine from you.

Valkyrie edged the tip of the strap into your less than prepared pussy and revealed in th noises it brought out in you. You squirmed against the bed and her hold but she continued to push onwards as she held you down.

It with take long for her to thrust the entirety of the the toy deep inside you, brushing against nerves that were rarely touched. With each passing second you lost more of your grip on your speech until Valkyrie pulled out only to slam the rest of the you into you.

You moaned out loudly and clung onto the bedsheets frantically as Valkyrie continued to fuck.yo7 at a brutal pace, never faltering. You were all overwhelmed with pleasure you hardly heard the dirty things the woman above you whispered into your ear. With that, it didn't take you long to get close.

"Gon cum, please!" You tried, your speech far too slurred for you even to understand luckily Valkyrie did.

"Cum for your queen." She ordered and with that, you fell over the edge. You moaned loudly as your back arched and you clenched around the toy, desperate to feel it as much as possible when you came around it.

Valkyrie didn't stop once you came, not after you came a few times either. Because while you may not have ever completely remembered the events of that day, you would sure as hell feel them for a while.

*

You awoke in a brightly lit room with walls that seemed to literally shine. You blinked quickly as you looked around and found yourself in a bedroom. A fucking big one.

Next to you, or more towering over you from your low position, was a Grande bed that was unnecessarily big, as though it was there for show more than comfort. The gold painted posters and luxurious pillows and covers made it the perfect image of a King's bed and had you wondering what fantasy land you had dreamed up in your head.

You looked down and furrowed your brow as you realised you were laying in large dog bed that fit you as if by measurement. It was lined with quilts and soft pillows that matched those on the bed.

You sat up in the bed and took in the rest of the room and all its glory. Long drapes hung from the ceiling and parted for an open pair of doors that led onto a sizeable balcony. With a deep breath, you got up out the bed and ventured towards it.

It was only when you left the warmth and softness of the bed that you realised you were fully nude, but there was no dresser or closet door around to provide you with any clothes. You timidly edged towards the doors and stood to the side to peer out, hoping no neighbours would get an eyefull of your vulnerable state.

It was also hard to stay oblivious to the thick black leather collar that was around your neck so tightly. There were some hazy memories it awoke in the back of your mind that you couldn't quite see.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you peered out from behind the curtain. What became apparent first was how high up you were. The balcony leaned over the whole land and let you see the whole of the city and the dark forests beyond it.

The building below you shone in the sun, gleaming boldly in a way you couldn't tear your eyes from. It was almost mythological.

"You're awake!" An excited voice exclaimed from behind you. You spun around to see the dark haired women coming through the main doors towards you.

You didn't recognise her at first, especially with the cheerful grin plastered across her face. But soon the pieces fitted together and you took a big step back away from Valkyrie.

"Don't be like that." She said with a frown, her eyes shamelessly raking over your body.

She walked towards you quicker than you could get away and gripped you collar, forcing you to your knees. "Much better." She mused as she looked down at you.

She attached the leash to your collar and gave it a tug as she strolled back to the balcony with you having no choice but to follow as she instructed.

"I've waited so long for this." She beamed as she looked out at the city. You sat by her side, your mouth and throat too dry to let you speak and feeling too scared to even try. "Finally, Asgard is back to how it should be, and with you by my side." She looked down at you with a smile and noted your confusion.

"Earth just didn't cut it." She said simply. "So we're starting over, again. We have this whole planet to ourselves and I'll make sure it stays this way." Valkyrie explained as she looked back out at the city she ruled.

"I want to go home." You piped up as you stared at the ground, too afraid to meet her gaze.

"You are home." Valkyrie said as she crouched down and lifted your chin to look at her. "I'll give you everything you could ever want." Your bottom lip trembled as you realised you really had no way out.

"All you have to do is be a good pet."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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[karahalloway]

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 6 - Let It Whip

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: Things kick off at the club... and not in a good way!

Word Count: 5,600

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, sexual tension, physical violence, aggravation)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: Sorry this took a bit longer than expected! I had the first half of the chapter already written from when I posted Chapter 5, but when I got to the second half, Drake decided that he did not like my original plan of events, and flat out refused to stay on script... which led to long-winded back-and-forths trying to figure out how to rework the rest of the chapter to our mutual satisfaction (that's fictional characters for ya - super opinionated!😅) But, I hope that the end result was worth the wait!

Chapter 6 - Let It Whip

But all thoughts of potential perdition evaporate instantly from my mind as I step back through the bi-folding doors and catch her 'round the waist.

"I got plenty of shirts," I murmur into her ear as I slide a palm over the curve of her bare hip.

She shivers under my touch. "Plaid doesn't count."

"Why not?" I counter, running the fingertips of my other hand down her arm. "It's smart casual."

"Spoken like a true redneck," she asserts, meeting my eye over her shoulder as her free hand settles over mine on waistband of her jeans.

"Y'know in Texas," I murmur, trailing her arm up to drop it around my neck, "that's a compliment."

She leans back against me as we start to sway. "Is that where you're from?"

"In pa—" I nearly bite my tongue as her ass brushes against my belt buckle.

Fuck. This girl’s sure as hell determined to make me sweat...

Squeezing my eyes shut, I force myself to rejoin the conversation. "In-in part. My... dad's side of the family owns a ranch a couple of hours outside of Dallas."

"But you're also half... Cor-Cordinian?" she asks, jumbling the foreign combination vowels and consonants a bit... probably because my hand had just skimmed down the sensitive, exposed skin of her side.

"Cordonian," I correct thickly, finding her other hip to pull her flush against me as my lips brush against her neck. "My—"

"Hey, stronzo!"

My head snaps up surprise. What th—?

A meaty fist connects with my jaw, whipping my head 'round.

The loud music fades to background noise and the strobe lights careen in front of me as the right hook out of the blue momentarily scrambles my senses.

I stumble to the side, losing hold of Gale as I try to hang onto my balance.

Staggering to a stop, I give my head a shake to clear my mind.

But that brief second or two of lost focus is enough for someone to reach out and grab my shirt.

My vision is still skipping, so I can't quite focus in on the guy's features. But the sticky-sweet scent of his cologne drenches me like bucket of cold water.

It can't b—

All the air explodes out of my chest as the opportunistic fuck takes advantage of my disorientation to nail me in the gut.

"Nowt such a big hat now, huh, gaguzz'?" hisses an all-too-familiar voice in my ear as I double involuntarily over.

Gasping for breath, my eyes land on the cross-bearing angel inked on the guy's arm as it becomes illuminated under the flashing lights... and my suspicions are instantly confirmed.

Tattoos.

How I managed to cross paths with the self-entitled piece of shit again, I have no idea. Especially in a city the size of New York, where clubs are a dime a dozen.

But it doesn’t matter. Because after what he did to Gale last night, there’s only one way this is going to end — with him on the ground, eating dirt.

I scoff into the prick's face. "Dice il mezzo sega chì non pò mancu inizià a so propria rissa."

His self-satisfied smirk collapses into a glout of rage. "Shuddup!"

He swipes at me wildly, aiming at my head.

But my arm's already up, blocking the punch — and the next one as well — because the douchebag's got more steroids than brains and can't hide his telegraphing for shit.

And like hell am I gonna let him get the jump on me a third time.

I rap him in the armpit, taking advantage of the wide-ass opening he leaves as he gears up for another windmill.

You picked the wrong fight, buddy.

But he's either drunk, or high, or both, because he doesn't seem to feel it. Instead, he drops his head with an aggravated roar, and rams himself into me, trying to steamroll me to the ground.

My boots go skidding across the polished dancefloor as I'm shoved backwards. Shocked cries rise up around us as people try to dive out of the way, tripping over each other in the process.

Shit.

I need to put him down before he hurts someone.

Jerking my knee up, I smash him in the chest.

He drops to his knees with a grunt, his arms falling from around me like stones. Because even if he’s completely off his face, he isn’t gonna escape basic neurobiology.

Reaching forward, I grab him by the hair, but before I can neutralise the bastard, I'm barrelled over by two other idiots who collide into each other in their haste to join the fight.

We hit the crowd of onlookers behind us, taking them down like dominoes.

I roll quickly away, trying to maintain space, trying to get back on my feet, but in the next second, I'm tackled by a wild banshee hollering blue murder.

"You fucking piece of shit!" she shouts, swiping at me with her talon-like nails. "I'm gonna kill you!"

Dodging around the rabid onslaught as best I can, I bring my arms up, looking for an opening I can exploit to get her off me.

But just as I'm about to make a move to grab her wrists, she reels backwards with a cry.

My eyes widen. No fuckin' way.

"Argh!" shrieks the hellcat — the same one who cut me up at the bar earlier — clutching at her head. "Let go, you bitch!"

"You first," counters Gale from behind her, giving the fistful of hair she’s holding a sharp yank. "Bitch."

"Better do as she says," I prompt to the Karen straddling me. “That girl doesn't mess around."

She bares her teeth with a snarl.

"Ah...!" cautions Gale with a meaningful tug. "If you want to keep these fake extensions then—"

"Get off her, puttan'!" shrieks a petite brunette as she launches herself onto Gale's back from out of nowhere like a vicious macaque.

"Harper!" I yell, throwing myself forward as Gale topples backwards with a surprised cry, pulling the Karen on top of her in the process.

But before I can reach the messy dog pile, I feel a heavy forearm clamp itself across my chest.

"Stand down, sir."

Twisting around, I find myself being stared down by a no-nonsense security guard sporting a shaved head and at least 110lbs of pure muscle.

And even though every instinct inside of me is urging me to twist free, to get to Gale, the rational part of me knows that this is a scrap I’m not going to win. Not easily anyway.

And that isn’t gonna help Gale.

So I simply nod, consciously relaxing my posture to communicate that I’m going to put up a fight.

The guy grunts in approval. "All yours, Roy."

A heavy hand grabs my collar and begins hauling me away.

Craning my neck, I try to catch sight of Gale amongst the crowd, to see if the first bouncer has managed to break up the female scuffle.

I'm rewarded for my efforts by a sharp shove from behind.

"Keep moving," commands Roy in a pissed-off voice... which, to be fair to him, would be my attitude in this situation as well.

So I knew there’s no point in arguing with him, trying to defend my case — that I’m the victim, not the instigator, and Gale had just been trying to help. Because these guys didn't give two shits about the story. They’re just the clean-up crew.

Not that that makes me feel any better. Especially since I’m being dragged further and further away from the person who selflessly put her ass on the line for me, even thought she'd been under no obligation to step in. Because it isn’t — and never should've been — her fight.

I glance surreptitiously behind me once more. But all I see are unfamiliar silhouettes.

I feel my jaw tighten anxiously. God, I hope she’s okay...

We arrive at a white-washed service lobby where two other security guards are watching Tattoos and his slightly worse for wear posse like hawks, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

Guess not everyone had the sense to come quietly.

Cross has a busted lip, Diamond Studs is nursing a bleeding nose and Tattoos is hunched over slightly, no doubt as a result of my earlier counterattack.

Versace, meanwhile, is busy having a one-man shouting match with the impassive guards.

"I'm telling ya, man!" he insists pointedly, waving his arms about like an overzealous semaphore signaller. "We dinna start it! Rocco's girl got bitched by some buttagots at the bar who—"

I feel my hands fist by my side as I'm shoved unceremoniously in with the rest of the hoodlums.

That's the reason this whole thing kicked off? Because that Karen got her tail up? Un-fuckin'—

"Him!" cries Versace victoriously, pointing his finger at me. "That's the facciabrutt' that got all up in Ria's face! We just—"

"Started a fight?" I interject saltily. "On the word of your trash-talkin' girlfriend?"

"Hey!" warns Cross, taking a menacing step forward. "What you call my cousin?"

"Nothing she doesn't deserve," I mutter pointedly, crossing my arms.

"You fuckin'—!" roars Tattoos, lunging forward. "I'm gonna eat you!"

"Hey! Hey!" shouts Roy, intercepting the guy before he can get to me, and leaving me unattended in the process. "That's enough!"

"Don't you touch me, man!" spits Tattoos, slapping the guy's hand off his chest. "Don't you—!"

"Let me go, you fuck!"

"My man's gonna kick your ass!"

Snapping my gaze around, I see the jacked bouncer making an entrance with the Karen — Ria — under one arm, and her brunette girlfriend under the other, both of them kicking and screaming.

"Hey!" objects Tattoos, laying eyes on the spectacle as well. "What the fuck, man!

"That's fuckin' police harassment!" agrees Cross, trying to push his way to the girls as well. "Where's you's fuckin' respect, bro?"

Ignoring the rising noise as Roy and the others try to keep Tattoos and co. from mobbing their colleague, I zero in on the final bouncer. The one that has his hand around Gale's arm, shoving her roughly into the lobby before him, causing her to stumble in her heels.

I'm by her side in a heartbeat, steadying her. "Harper. You—?"

"Sir," interjects her guard, putting a hand out to stop me. "I'm gonna have to ask you t—"

"She's with me," I tell him flatly as I angle my body in front of Gale.

He opens his mouth. No doubt to argue.

I harden my gaze, giving him no corner.

His eyes flick to the growing commotion behind us. "Fine. Keep her under control."

"Yessir," I mutter sarcastically as he moves quickly off to help his buddies.

Gale lays a hand on my arm. "Hey. You didn't have t—"

"Yes. I did," I affirm, keeping my eye on the bouncer's back until I was sure he was fully occupied with the Jersey Shore lot. Turning back 'round to face Gale, I ask, more softly this time, "You okay?"

She nods shakily, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Yeah. You?"

"I'm good," I assure her, running my eyes over her to check for any obvious trauma. Thankfully, apart from her slightly smeared make-up, and a large lock of golden caramel that had been pulled out of her up-do, I don't see anything concerning.

Thank Christ. We don’t need any more injuries to add to the list this week.

"You sure?" she presses, reaching up to run her fingertips over my jaw. "That guy decked you pretty hard."

"I've had worse," I assure her stoically, laying a hand over hers to pull it away from my face... though our fingers remain entwined.

"Bar fights a popular pass-time in Cordonia?" she asks, glancing up at me cheekily from beneath her lashes.

I scoff wryly. "No. It's Southern Europe. Not the Wild West. We—"

I trail off as the bouncer that brought Gale through appears in front of us again.

"Get in," he prompts, giving me a shove.

Flicking my gaze over to the side, I see that the rest of the security guards have managed to corral Tattoos and his gang into the waiting lift.

A snort of derision escapes me. "Like hell."

The guy takes a domineering step forwards. "I'm not going t—"

"Our jackets are still checked into the cloakroom," Gale interjects quickly, stepping in front of me to hold up her metal token. "And we can't—"

"—leave without our keys," I finish with a nod. "Which are in my jacket."

It’s a barefaced lie. I'd never make the rookie mistake of leaving any kind of key in a jacket pocket — the number one place to get pickpocketed on a crowded street or subway car.

But I need a plausible excuse to avoid getting into the same confined space as that mob. Because that’s a bloodbath just waiting to happen. And there’s no way I’m subjecting Gale to that shit. Period.

The guy's mouth thins into a line.

"Can't get home without our keys," Gale reminds the bouncer with an innocent shrug.

"Well... we could," I correct. "But that would involve some breaking and entering. And the resulting repair bill will be going straight to the club's manager." I fix the guy with a meaningful look.

"Not my problem," he grunts, crossing his arms.

"You sure your manager's gonna feel the same way?" I ask pointedly, crossing my arms. "Especially when said letter will be coming from our lawyer?"

Another lie. But I need to keep the pressure on if we are to have a chance of pulling this off.

The guy’s Adam's apple bobs in indecision.

"What's the hold-up, Bruce?" calls one of his buddies from behind him.

I keep my gaze drilled into him.

"N-nothing," he calls back over his shoulder. "You guys go. We'll take the next one."

"You sure?" comes the sceptical reply. "Deke said—"

"They don't pay me enough to hump your leg, Roy," Bruce snaps back. "Which is what we'll be doing if we all try to squeeze into that steel box."

"Fair enough," concedes Roy, stepping back into the lift and letting the doors bang closed.

"Let's go," grunts Bruce, giving me another shove to get me in front of him. "And don't make me regret this."

I grit my teeth at the uncalled for roughness, but remain silent. Because the guy’s swallowed our improvised BS. And we don’t need him changing his mind at the last second because I can’t hold back the half-dozen snarky comebacks that are vying on the tip of my tongue.

I'll just have deal with my aggravations later. Probably in the company of the hotel gym's punching bag. Because the important thing right now is getting our jackets and gettin' gone... before my patience gets pushed over the line.

Retracing our steps through the narrow service corridor, we arrive back in the main part of the club. Tightening my grasp on Gale's hand — which I’m still holding — so we don't get separated in the press, I lead the way over to the reception area.

The girl manning the cloakroom looks up in surprise as Bruce shoulders his way in front of a group that are just about to check their coats.

"Get these two their shit," he instructs gruffly.

"Got their tokens?" she asks, recovering quickly.

"Here," I say, handing mine over. Gale follows suit.

The girl glances at the numbers briefly, before disappearing into the back.

I use the momentary interlude to pull my phone out of my pocket to shoot a quick text to the Guard who are — hopefully — still watching Chris. Because despite all the unanticipated shit that I've been dragged into tonight, he’s ultimately still my No. 1 responsibility. And I need to let the rest of my team know that I got knocked out of the game, so they'll have to stay extra sharp.

"What are you doing?" demands Bruce suspiciously.

"Calling an Uber," I reply curtly, finishing off the message and hitting Send. Not that it’s any of his business.

He makes a move for my phone. "Not until—"

"Here you go!" declares the girl, depositing our jackets on the counter.

"Thanks," I grit, snagging both and grabbing Gale's hand again to pull her towards the main elevator.

The guy’s luckily I have good reflexes... and the coat-check girl arrived with our jackets when she did. Otherwise he'd be nursing a helluva lot more than an overbearing attitude right now.

Because my phone’s off limits. To every-fuckin' body who is not Bast, or a security cleared member of the Cordonian Ministry of Defence. There’s way too much sensitive shit on there to even risk the possibility of an accidental security breach.

"Hey!" objects Bruce, starting after us. "Where d'you think you're go—?"

"The fuck outta here," I hit back, jabbing the lift call button.

"You're supposed t—"

"Go down into the same unlit back alley as those roughnecks? So we can get jumped as soon as we step out of the elevator?" I ask with a baleful glare, stepping through the metal doors that just opened in front of us. "Fuck and no."

Without waiting for a response, I stab the ground floor — and the forced door closure — button, and watch with more than a pinch of perverse satisfaction as the heavy metal barrier slams closed in Bruce's face.

Gale lays a hand on my arm. "You okay?"

I let out a forced exhale. "Yeah."

"Sorry I ruined your night..."

My gaze drops down to her, to find that she's looking up at me apologetically.

I shake my head. "Gale, you—"

"Had I not goaded you into—"

"They'd've still found me," I say softly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "It ain't exactly a big club."

"I meant on the street. We only ended up in this place because—"

"—we were headed here anyway," I tell her. "The karaoke bar was just a detour."

"But—"

"Harper, stop," I cut in, cupping her face in my hands, making her look at me. "No matter which way you slice it, none of this is on you. I made the decision to intervene when that dick grabbed you during your shift last night. So, I was already on his shit-list for showing him up, even before I got caught in the crosshairs of his bitter-as-gall girlfriend. And the fact that they were in the same club at the exact same time as us..." I shrug apathetically. "Well, that's just blind, dumb luck, girl."

She slides her palms over my chest. "Or seriously fucked up karma."

"Either way," I murmur, stroking my thumb across her cheek. "I ain't complainin'."

She quirks a wry brow at me. "Because you gave as good as you got?"

"Because I got another shot with you."

Her lips part with a surprised breath.

She's so close that I can literally taste her...

...and suddenly I can think of nothing else.

The elevator, the city, the entire goddamn world ceases to exist as her wildflower and honey scent subsumes me, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.

And I don't care if I get burnt.

Because all reason, all logic has gone out the fuckin' window, and the only thing that matters is capturing this moment that I've been chasing since I first laid eyes on her in that grimy dive bar... because if I don’t, I'll regret it forever.

I lean in towards her.

Her face tilts up to mine, her eyes mirroring that same mix of raw need and reckless anticipation that is coursing through my veins as we approach the inevitable zenith of our mutual trajectory.

Her eyes shudder closed.

I forget how to breathe.

But just as my lips are about to brush against hers, I feel a sudden, familiar lurch in my gut...

...and realise that the elevator's arrived on the ground floor.

The sudden stop catches Gale unawares. She stumbles against me, eyes flying open to meet mine in surprise and confusion — like she's just woken from a dream.

My hands move automatically to her waist, helping steady her against me as her fingers latch instinctively onto the sense of security offered by the material of my shirt.

She stills.

Our eyes meet.

Time stops.

The doors ping open.

"I got 'em, Bruce..."

My head jerks up.

"...they're in the elevator."

Snapping my gaze towards the door, I feel my jaw clench as I lay eyes on the two security guards.

"Thought you could give us the slip, huh?" asks one as he steps into the lift.

Throwing my arm up, I bat his outstretched hand away. Because I've had enough of assholes grabbing at me — and Harper — to wrangle us like cattle.

So, I’m done playing nice.

"Hey!" objects the other bouncer, starting forwards as I block another attempt by his buddy to grab me. "Don't make me—"

"Break your partner's wrist?" I ask pointedly, using the momentum of the counterattack to bend the guy's hand around. "'Cause that's what's gonna happen if you don't back the fuck off."

The guard's eyes flick to his immobilised buddy's.

I give the guy's wrist a twist, making him hiss in pain. "Last warning."

"Okay, okay..." concedes the other guard, raising a hand in surrender as he takes a step back.

"Don't even think about it," I growl as I notice his free hand slide toward the radio on his belt. "Or I'm breaking your wrist next."

I pull his buddy's arm upwards in emphasis, making the guy to cry out.

"Yeah, go ahead!" taunts the other bouncer. "See how fast New York's finest throw your ass in jail for aggravated assault!"

"You mean your ass?" I counter. "Your buddy moved first. I was just defending against an unprovoked attack. And considering that I have no priors, an impartial witness, and access to some damn good lawyers, who d'you think the jury's gonna believe?"

The guard's thumb hovers uncertainly over his radio.

"Not you," I conclude for him. "So unless you want to find out the hard way just how fuckin' serious I am, I suggest you get smart, and get the hell out of my way."

"Jesus, Rick!" gasps his partner, sweat beading on his forehead from the strain I was putting on his arm. "Just do as he says!"

"God damn it..." huffs Rick, lifting his hand away from his belt.

I take advantage of the opening offered by the admission of defeat to shove the guy I’m holding forward. He crashes into Rick, causing both of them to stumble backwards out of the lift.

"Let's go," I order, scooping our jackets off the floor from where I dropped them and grabbing Gale's hand to pull her after me.

Double-timing it down the polished marble of the lobby, I blaze through the revolving doors and out on the street without a backwards glance.

It's not that I’m worried about the cops showing up. Clubs — especially exclusive ones that cater to the upper crust — want to avoid entanglements with law enforcement as much as possible. It’s bad for business. So, I’d known that the bouncer's threat about the NYPD had been a desperate bluff.

No. It’s the fact that after everything I’ve had to put up with today — Tariq's dilettante behaviour on the subway, Max's hyperactive bouncing around the Met, Leo's devil-may-care attitude to Chris's situation, not to mention getting jumped by Tattoos and his crew, and then being treated like a felon by the club's security when we were already on our way out — my nerves are fucking shot, and I’m one wrong move away from punching a hole in the wall... or someone's face.

So, I need to make myself scarce before I lose my shit and people got hurt.

"...Drake!"

I frown. Did someone call my name?

"Drake, stop!"

The sound of Gale's voice pulls me up short. Turning around, I see that my fingers are still tangled into hers and we’re on the banks of the Hudson.

Shit.

I drop her hand like it’s on fire.

She sags forward relievedly, gulping air to catch her breath. "Oh, thank God..."

Raking my hand through my hair, I turn away, feeling like a complete piece of crap.

Sweet fuckin' Jesus... I must've dragged her miles. How the hell could I have forgotten about her like that? I’m no better than—

"Watch it, pal!"

I side-step the oncoming midnight dog-walker on reflex...

...and realise that I am suddenly halfway down the block.

Fuck.

Pulling myself up, I glance behind me. Gale is exactly where I left her, about fifty yards back, casting a solitary shadow beneath a street lamp.

I drop my gaze to the bundle of leather in my hand.

Goddammit.

Executing a one-eighty, I march myself back the way I'd come.

Because no matter how much of an ass I may be for pulling her on a forced route-march 'cross town, and how much she probably wants to see the last of me right now, I'd be an even more monumental dick if I leave her stranded in the middle of Manhattan in the middle of the night while I fuck off with her jacket.

Because given what she’s wearing, and the way she looks, and the general fact that she’s a magnet for unwarranted attention, that’s just trouble waiting to happen.

And like hell am I gonna give anyone even the slightest whiff of an invitation to turn her into a crime statistic. Especially after the way she stuck her neck out for me back at the club.

"Harper," I sigh, arriving back at her side, "I am so s—"

"What the hell was that?" she demands, throwing her arm out accusatorially.

I heave a breath. "I got off base. I shouldn't have—"

"Got off base?" she cuts in acidly. "Is that what you call going Jason Bourne on those security guards?"

I frown. That's what she’s pissed about? "I didn't—"

"We could've been arrested!" she cries. "We could still be arrested!"

"No one's getting arrested," I assure her, taking a step forward to try and drop her jacket around her shoulders.

She snorts derisively. "Because you'll beat the cops up as well? That your answer to everything?"

"No, I—"

She snatches her jacket from my grasp as she shoulders roughly past me. "Well, I'm not sticking around to find ou— Argh!"

I grab her as her knees buckle. "You... okay?"

Her face contorts in pain. "No..."

"What's wrong?" I ask guardedly, while silently praying that I hadn't inadvertently caused her to twist her ankle when I full throttled it out of the lobby...

"My foot... It..."

I let out a low breath. For fuck’s sake .

Slinging an arm beneath her knees, I swing her up against my chest.

"What are you doing?" she gasps in disbelief.

"Damage control," I reply tersely, carrying her over to the nearest bench.

"Dam—? I'm not damaged!"

I fix her with a deadpan look. "Can you walk?"

"No," she huffs as I deposit her gently on the cool metal. "But—"

"My statement stands," I reply as I kneel down in front of her and reach for her ankle.

"No, it doesn't," she counters, twisting away. "And I don't need—"

"Dammit, girl!" I grit, the full force of the situation hitting me in the chest like a crowbar. "Will you just let me—?"

A black and gold Jimmy Choo gets thrust in my face. “It's just a blister!"

Realigning myself after dodging reflexively around the unexpected high-kick, I wrap my fingers around her foot to bring it down to eye-level.

Sure enough, I see the tell-tale patch of raw skin peeping out from beneath the strap of her shoe that indicates a burst blister. And based on how angry the sore looked, I know it’s a painful one.

Lifting my gaze, I meet her eye plaintively. "Shit, Harper. I'm so sorry..."

At least it isn’t something worse. But still... This is because of me. 

And that makes me feel like an epic piece of shit.

Her shoulders drop with a sigh. "Don't be... I wore crazy heels on a night out. It's not your—"

"It is," I cut in, lowering her foot back down to the pavement. "I... I shouldn't've dragged you out like that. I just..." I run a palm down my face, looking out across the inky river.

"What?" she asks softly, laying a hand on my arm.

"When that bouncer stepped into the lift... It..." I shake my head, trying to find the right words. "I just reacted."

"Because he caught you off guard?"

"Because he made a grab for you," I correct tightly, turning to face her again. "And the thought of him laying his hands on you... of him hurting you... like that tattooed bastard had last night... I just... I couldn't let that happen."

"It wasn't the same situation," she reminds me gently.

"I didn't say I was thinkin' rationally," I reply ruefully.

The edge of her mouth pulls into a sardonic smile. "Must be a full moon, or something."

"Or something..." I murmur, watching the amber of the streetlight's glow dance across her hair. Recollecting myself, I add, "But that's no excuse. I shouldn't've lost my cool with those guards. It was unprofessional and—"

"Unprofessional...?" she asks, frowning in confusion. "What do you—?"

I kick myself for the inadvertent slip of tongue. "Turn of phrase," I say quickly. "Point is, you are right that I could've handled it better. I didn't mean to drag you down in the mud with me. I... I just had to get out of there... to get you out of there. Before it escalated further. And I'm sorry that you ended up getting hurt in the process. That... that wasn't part of the plan."

She's silent for a long time. "Apology accepted."

I blink. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," she confirms. "I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone. I just... I've never seen anyone move like that. It was... kind of unnerving. So, I'm sorry I flipped out. It was just a lot to process."

"I know," I say softly. "And I'm sorry for putting you through that. It wasn't my intention to freak you out."

"Well, I kind of freaked you out when I flew at you on the street earlier, so I guess were even," she shrugs with a smile.

"I didn't freak out," I object with a scoff.

"You did look pretty terrified," she grins.

"You're imagining things, girl," I mutter with a roll of my eyes. But I can't seem to stop my mouth curving into a reciprocal smirk.

Though, as I catch sight of her reaching for her injured foot again, I remember why we’re here… and what we need to do.

Heaving a sigh, I say, "Anyway, we should get you home so you can get out of those shoes."

"You mean these shoes?" she asks, lifting them up by the heels to dangle them illustratively in the air.

My eyes widen as she pushes herself up from the bench. "The hell you goin', Gale?"

"Home." She says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world... and I’m the idiot for asking such a dumbass question.

Jumping to my feet, I grab her arm. "No. You're not."

Her brows shoot skywards. "Excuse me?"

"I mean like that." I nod towards her bare feet. "You can't walk across—"

"It's only a few blocks."

"A few blocks that are riddled with everything from piss to garbage."

"I'll make sure not to step in anything," she assures me with a roll of her eyes.

"Dammit, girl," I grit, stepping in front of her as she tries move off again. "Just... let me call you a cab."

She draws an exasperated breath. "What's with you and cabs over short distances, huh?"

I meet her eye pointedly. "They got you home last night, didn't they?"

She makes a frustrated sound. "Yeah, but—"

"No 'buts'," I cut in, reaching for my phone. "I'm calling that cab."

"By the time you do that, and it gets here, I'll already be back home, soaking my feet in the tub," she groans. "So, it would be a massive waste of time and money."

"No. It wouldn't," I counter seriously. "Because if —and when — you step on a rusty nail or a piece of broken glass in the dark, you'll be paying a helluva lot more for the privilege of an ambulance ride and treatment at the local hospital than—"

"—the twenty bucks you didn't want to spend on the cab fare," she finishes surlily.

"Exactly," I affirm. Softening my gaze, I add, "And since your feet are shot because of my breakneck sight-seeing tour, it's only fair that I foot the fare."

She peeks up at me from beneath her lashes. "Oh, is that what that was?"

"Last night in the Big Apple," I shrug wryly, reaching for my phone. “Had to make the most of it."

Her eyes search mine for a moment. "Okay, cowboy. You can call me a cab. On one condition."

I quirk a brow. "What's that?"

"You share the fare with me..."

I shake my head as I pull the number up. “Gale, I’m not gonna let you—“

"...back to mine."

All the air gets knocked from my chest. "Wh-what?"

She winks up at me. "Can't have you skipping town without your jacket, Walker."

The story contines in Chapter 7 - Take My Breath

A/N: As usual, translations below:

- Stronzo = asshole

- Gaguzz' = moron

- Drake: "Dice il mezzo sega chì non pò mancu inizià a so propria rissa." = Says the pipsqueak* who can't even start his own (bar) fight. *'Mezzo sega' means lit. 'half saw' but connotatively it means 'pipsqueak', i.e. an upstart or a person of no-account. And while it doesn't sound so bad in English, it is actually quite a serious insult in Italian because Drake is effectively calling the guy's manhood into question. Also, observant Italian speakers will notice that Drake is speaking with a Corsican accent again — as explained in Chapter 2: Sparks Fly, this is deliberate.

- Puttan' = skank / whore

- Buttagots = annoying idiot

- Facciabrutt' = ugly face

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Picture credits

Security - Nighscape - Elevator- Harper - Hands - Tattoo - Drake - Fight

[marsbutterfly]

FOR THE VALENTINE’S DAY EVENT PLEASE DO FLUFF 7 WITH JEANBO 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Somewhere Only We Know

Mars' Valentine's Day Event | Wattpad | AO3

Prompt: “Let’s run away together and live by ourselves in a place far away!”

On a not so busy afternoon, you decide to invite Jean on a little picnic date, nothing too special, just a small token of your admiration and appreciation for all the times he stood by your side. Those have always been his favorite kind of dates.

So you head over to the city’s market, a little brown basket made out of stiff fibers in hand. The colorful stalls catch your eye within a second of walking in and the smell of freshly cooked meat welcomes you

Most of the vendors already know your name from all the times they’ve seen you before. Some of them even have your order memorized but something inside of you wanted to look at the products by yourself, without having other people choose it for you.

Your fingertips brush lightly against the apples but you soon realize that is not something you are in the mood for, so you leave them in their respective places.

Next, your eyes wander to the chocolate covered strawberries. The owner of the stall hands you a toothpick and extends the platter closer to you, offering a taste. Once you take a bite, the chocolate melts against your tongue and the sweetness of the strawberry mixes together perfectly with it. So of course, you purchase an entire batch.

The following step is finding the perfect drink. So you look around for a little bit, trying different kinds of juices and sodas when finally you land on a homemade orange juice, freshly harvested and squeezed. It has always been his favorite.

For a savory treat, you decide that buying something at the market wouldn’t be enough so you reach for his mother’s house and luckily for you, she had just recently made an omelet. She says she makes one every day in the hopes that her son would come visit and you make a mental note to pull Jean’s ear later.

Once you pack all the food in the little brown basket, you leave a note behind for your boyfriend to find and read over to the spot where you had your first kiss: under the big, oak tree on the top of the hill outside the training camps.

You pull out a small blanket, its red print contrasting with the freshly cut green grass. The wind rushes by you and the current is strong enough to lift the skirt of your dress so immediately, you use your hands to try and push the cloth back down.

“Pink underwear?” A voice enters your ears and you blush, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs.

“Shut up.” You reply and he laughs, wrapping one arm around your waist while pulling you closer to him, lips touching your left temple.

“I missed you the whole time I was at that stupid meeting today.” He says, his hand still gripping your skin as he looks down at the meal you arranged for him. “This looks delic - is that my mom’s omelet?”

“Yeah, I went by her house and picked it up just for you.” You say, placing your hands on his shoulder while your eyes are closed and a smile is carved up on your lips. Slowly, you move your fingers up, gently tracing the outside of his ear before pulling it by the lobe. “You really need to go visit her more often.”

“Ow, ow, I will.” He says, flinching in pain. “I promise, please!” And finally you let go.

“Come on, let’s sit down and eat.” You say while watching as Jean rubs his ear, a frown on his face. “Oh don’t be like that, I have all your favorites.”

He doesn’t say anything but he does allow a smirk to curl up. His hand travels to the top of head and he removes his straw hat, placing it on the cloth on the floor before sitting down. He holds your hand gently and pulls you down with him.

Shifting the weight of your body onto your right arm, you use the free one to hand Jean a chocolate covered strawberry. He opens his mouth and eagerly savors the treat you are providing but something feels off.

He is usually so talkative but at this moment, he simply enjoys the food without saying so much as a single word. Something is on his mind and you can tell.

“What’s wrong?” You ask and suddenly the man sprouts up, looking at you with a determined look on his face.

“Let’s run away together and live by ourselves in a place far away!” Jean exclaims and it catches you by surprise. Out of all the insane things he has ever said or suggested to you, this one was by far the craziest and, by default, your favorite.

“What?” You are taken back by his words so, in response, a nervous laughter escapes your lips. He suddenly stands up and begins to walk around, planning the entire situation out loud so you could be a part of it.

“Somewhere outside Paradis.” He says, excitement coursing through his veins as he shakes his hands around. Instead of discouraging him, you simply adjust your skirt so it covers your thighs and flash him a bright smile.

“I would love that.” You respond, extending your arm so your hand can touch his. His fingertips are cold and rough but the manner in which he touches your skin is gentle and soft. He wraps his hand around your wrist before gently pulling you up.

He places his free hand on your waist while raising the other and, in one swift move, your body is now glued to his. While humming a melody you are all too familiar with, he begins to move his feet. Backwards, to the side, to the front.

He twirls you around like a ballerina and you nearly fall into his arms many times. Though you step on his feet, he does not seem to mind. Instead, the joy in his eyes is one you haven’t seen in many nights.

The remaining rays of sunlight hit the oak tree ever so lightly, barely enough light left. The shadow that once protected you and Jean now disappears and the wind rushes through you, dancing with the leaves of the old oak tree as if it is copying Jean’s movements.

Jean’s grip on your waist tightens and he brings you closer to him. You can smell the strawberries in his breath, the cherry flavored gloss on his lips and cheap cologne he sprayed on his neck before meeting you.

His eyes stare deep into yours and you are reminded of all the times he would sneak you out of the barricade so he could dance with you under the stars. Of course it was against the rules to leave after dark but that never once stopped him from sneaking into your room and bringing you outside.

“Run away with me.” He whispers, teasingly aiming for your lips but immediately pulling his head back again. “I already have the keys to our new house, all you need to do is say yes.”

“Yes.” You respond, removing your hand from his and placing it on his cheek. “Wait, you already found us a house? For how long have you been looking?”

“I haven’t.” He discloses and once he notices the puzzle expression on your face, he continues. “I was riding around one time, looking for a specific plant the Commander requested when I laid eyes on a small house outside that city up north, I always forget what it is called..”

“Yeah, I know the place you are talking about.” You interrupt him before he has time to go on a spiel about how he knows the place but doesn’t remember the name. “I thought all the houses there were destroyed.”

“They were.” He says, touching his forehead to yours while he closes his eyes. “So I’ve been spending most of my time rebuilding it for you, for us, for our future children.”

“Jeanbo, I love you.” You whisper, finally closing the distance between the two of you and sealing your lips together. It’s a gentle kiss, filled with all the love you’ve had for him in your heart for the past five years and cannot contain anymore.

His lips were warm and soft. They reminded you of the silky pillow cases you had purchased not too long ago, so delicate. They parted slightly, allowing your tongues to swirl around each other slowly.

After pulling away, Jean smiles at you. He nuzzles his face on yours and earns a giggle out of you.

“Let’s go pack our things. We can leave tonight.” He says and you nod, kneeling beside the picnic site to begin to pack everything together once more. The man immediately sits down right next to you in the hopes of providing any kind of assistance.

Your hands quickly go through the checked cloth, folding it neatly before placing it inside of the basket above the remaining food containers.

Jean reaches out for you, taking your hand on his, fingers lacing together as if they were meant to be and, instead of walking down the mountain, the two of you begin to run, excitedly chasing after your new life together.

[yostresswritinggirl]

request for your event? you being klee's older sibling and having to look after her, but when no one's around you're just as mischievous as her :))

It is time to give love to the cutest child in the game, the chaos incarnate herself skdbslbwka I always love these types of scenarios, and with a lot of material available, I went haywire sksksks

Geronimo!

Snippets of angst here and there, but Klee always makes things better! (masterlist)

Responsible, reliable, strong.

Strength seems to run in your family, as well the familiarity with the element of Pyro. Ever since your mother Alice left to venture into the world after the appearance of Albedo, things had been busier and tiring on your end.

You had to fend for you and Klee outside of the little pension the Knights provide. Unlike Klee and Alice, you were no Knight of Favonius, just a normal citizen that does commissions for the Adventurer's Guild while delving into whatever your heart desires. Because of your lack of connection, most of the income you get are from your own work and the bits of mora your mother has left in your care. Your Spark Knight little sister is well in the hands of the Knights, all accommodation handled by them.

A lot of the Knights and even citizens are quite fond of her anyways, and so in multiple care she's not neglected the slightest.

Your mind is at ease knowing that your sister is enjoying a comfortable life while you deal with the loss of a parental figure in silence.

One night as you slip in next to your little sister in her room within the headquarters, the room your mother had occupied before she left, Klee begged you in her half-conscious state to spend the day with her tomorrow even if just for the afternoon. Klee was no spoiled child, she barely asks for anything nor forces others to do her bidding, and this desperation of hers had you crumble as you agreed.

That night you felt more tired than usual. Questioning to yourself, 'have you been neglecting the last family you had?'

Jean felt more than relief when she heard that you'd taking Klee under your care for the day, offering your deepest apologies and gratitude for continuing to look after her in your place. But as Jean waves you two goodbye, she was naive to the chaos she had allowed to come together.

Instead of skipping commissions like you had planned, under the coaxing of your sister, you ended up doing them with her. "It would be fun, Klee will be good and help out too!" And she did, especially when it comes to disposing the creatures around the city.

You watched a Hilichurl fly up from a huge explosion, body spread out as it disappears behind a line of trees in the background. When you looked back down after the smoke disperses, there's a huge crater in the middle of the Hilichurl camp and many unconscious Hilichurls in general.

"Let me try it too!" "Yeeey, go, big sibling!" Picking up one of her smaller bombs she'd laid out on the ground for easy access, you pulled out your bow and hanged the bomb by its head with a piece of string.

"Do a spin, a 360!" "Whatever my sister wants," you started as you started shifting your body in a turn, arrow and string pulled back and ready for release, "Sheeee gets!" When you saw the familiar view of the camp, you angled your shot slightly upwards and released, arrow piercing through the air before immediately turning downward with the weight of the bomb.

You two looked over the cliff to watch the fire show below, arm wrapped around her form to make sure she doesn't fall, as the supposed tiny bomb produced a huge mushroom cloud that sent a gale of black smoke up to where you two watched.

"That was so cool!" "So cool!" You gave your sister a high five, both of your hair disheveled from the force with ashes littered all over your body.

Gliding down the cliff, you didn't give the charred camp much attention as you two sped past to your next commission.

Once you'd went with her to a faraway river when she said she wanted some fish toast. Not wanting her to use her bomb and cause some kind of fish extinction in Mondstadt, you eagerly jumped in the pond after discarding some of your important items and outer clothing, an arrow in hand as you chased and stab the bigger fish.

"Wah, big sis/bro! Behind you! A green scary fish is about to bite you!" "A what now?!"

After you turned, you've ended up wrestling against the jaws of a giant crocodile that strayed into the stream. It took a few minutes before Klee finally stepped in with her Pyro catalyst.

You swimmed a little more to wash away the ashes, cleaning up your sister's face with a wet cloth too from the earlier Hilichurl extermination.

You're not as popular or in the limelight as your sister, many Mondstadtians only ever know you as a simple citizens who deals with commissions, and so very few (select few knights too) know of your connections with the Spark Knight.

When Klee isn't rambling about her bombs, confinement or Albedo, she likes to brag about you. The best and hardworking family, always responsible and witty that you manage to get away with anything. She proudly announces she wants to be as smart as you too, both clauses somehow sending worry to the Knights in fear of Klee and whatever you're capable of.

Despite your respectful smiles and composed appearance, your energy and genius stems from your unhinged mother. The best and worst part about it tho, is that you don't need to report to any higher ups about your experimentations and findings.

"If we lure in a Cryo slime here," you said with a gesture to the net set up by the catapult, "this catapult would sling it over to the field fire the whopperflower made!"

"Do you get it?" "Yes, yes! Klee will deliver a nice and big Cryo slime!" You watched as she took off with that cute run of hers, and not even a minute passes that she comes running back over the slope-

"That's one- two, three, four- five?! KLEE WE ONLY NEEDED ONE SLIME- AHHHHH!"

An adult and a baby Cryo slime got caught in the net which immediately triggered the catapult's mechanism. In the distance you watched them bounce off the flames, also effectively crushing the flower itself under their weight.

Leaving you two to deal with remaining slimes, which was easy with your precise shots and Klee's destructive power. You two escaped death with a few bruises from the bouncing abominations, your catapult broken amidst the encounter.

"(Y/N) is the best big sibling I could ever have! So fun to play with especially! Even if Klee misses them a lot, Klee knows that they're doing it for the best!" Kaeya and Jean awed at the way Klee speaks so fondly of you after getting cleaned up for rest, while you showered during this time in her room's bath. "Klee wants to be as cool as them!"

"What's this?" You emerged from the doorway with a towel around your shoulder, your appearance causing your little sister to jump down from Kaeya's arms to run into yours. "You little mischief, sneaking out of the room to disturb the Acting Grand Master and the Captain!"

"I wanted to talk to them about how fun and cool you are!" Klee giggled when you booped noses, the two older figures in the room chuckling fondly at the sweet scene.

"Perhaps you could look into joining our ranks? There's always a room for you in the Knights, someone as reliable as you would be helpful in protecting Mondstadt," Jean's smile echoes through her words of offer as she looks at you inquisitively, making you gulp at the idea.

You wanted to refuse, for many, many reasons really. But Klee's bright, wide eyes at the thought of finally being in the same place as you for possibly 24/7, tells you you couldn't really refuse.

It was only three months after being a knight that Jean finally realized the deep and ashen crater by Starsnatch Cliff was created by you and Klee's combined efforts. She stares warily as she sees your form pass by the cracked open door to her office, Klee towed behind you as you walk hand in hand with big smiles.

Mondstadt's walls shook that day.

Klee is actually my little sister's favorite character in Genshin. I was tempted to merge this with another ask, but no, I must hold myself.

@moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop

[raineydays411]

And the adventure begins

Bruce Banner x daughter!reader 

A/n: yay! Another part out! Finally lol. Now time to work on my Loki fic and ignore this one for two weeks lol💀 jk I’m trying to keep up y’all I promise. Anyway hope you like it💕💕

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now that you think about it, maybe you shouldn’t have skipped school today. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this situation. 

....On another planet. Watching Thor be forced to fight some old dudes “Champion”, whatever that means.

Let’s go back to the beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nerves filled your body as you walked to school. You had an audition in the school play today and you were determined to get the part. Tony had offered to take you to school today but you decided to walk as it would give you extra time to learn your lines. As you pushed through the busy streets, occasionally bumping into a random pedestrian, you heard some girls whispering.

“Oh my god is that..”

“Yes! oh my go, he's so handsome”

“Ask him for a selfie”

“No you go ask hm”

At first you rolled your eyes, thinking it was just some youtuber or Tik tok star, you kept walking, eyes down re-reading your script. Then you heard the girls speak again. 

“Thanks Thor, I’m sorry Jane dumped you.” 

Hearing the name, your head swiveled up. You scanned the crowd looking for the blonde man, at first missing him as he wasn’t in his usual outfit of a cape and battle armour. But then you saw him, in a hoodie and some jeans. Picking up the pace, you jog toward the god not noticing the darker clothed man next to him.

“....it was a mutual dumping”

“I didn’t know the renaissance fair was in town” you say, a small smirk making its way on your face at the quip. 

Both Thor and ...Loki?! Turn around in surprise at the sudden voice behind them. Only to see you looking up at them with a arched brow. 

“Lady Y/n! How wonderful it is to see you” Thor boomed as he brought you into a bone crushing hug. Over his shoulder you could see Loki roll his eyes. 

“Honestly, had I known this trip would consist of young woman flocking to you, I would have allowed your hammer to kill me.”

Thor ignored his brother as he put you down. “My how you’ve grown.”

You smile and say, “Well the last time you saw me I was twelve.” Then you eye Loki with distrust. “Um Thor, why’d you bring brother dearest back to New York?” 

Loki looks at you with distaste, “ Who is this child, and why is she conversing with us?”

“Brother” Thor warns and then turns to you, “ Lady Y/n, we are searching for our father, it seems as if my brother” Thor harshly pats Loki on the shoulder, “ Has misplaced him.” 

You look at Loki and then look at the building that has been demolished

, “ Woah, I didn’t know Gods put their parents in nursing homes” You say “ If you want we can go back to the Tower and try to track him down”  

Thor smiles at the suggestion, “ A wonderful idea, tell me, how have my comrades been in my absence?” 

You cringe at the thought of explaining the events of the so called “Civil war”. Then notice a ring of sparks forming around Loki. 

“Uhh Thor” You say as you nod your head

“What’s this..wha.what are you doing?” He asks in alarm. Loki looks confused as the sparks get larger and more erratic.

“ This isn’t me” Loki says in confusion. Then suddenly the ground opens up beneath him and he falls through with an alarmed “Oh!” only leaving behind a business card. You and Thor look at each other, confusion written on both of your faces. 

“Loki” Thor whispers as he nudges the card with his umbrella. You look at him with concern and think to yourself

“Does..does he think the cards Loki?” 

You bend down to pick up the business card and read it out loud. 

“177a Bleeker St” you look at Thor and ask,” Do you know anyone from there?” 

“ No” He says, ‘ i don’t even know where that is.” 

You sigh, looking down at your script and making a decision. “ Well, lets go find your brother.” 

And with that, you turn around and start walking to your destination.

“Oh well, school can wait”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Thor find yourselves in front of two big black doors. You stand near Thor as he raises his hand to knock. Suddenly, before his hand is able to touch the door, you find yourselves inside the building. 

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself as you look around.

“Thor Odinson” a deep voice says. You look up to see a floating figure in the shadows coming towards you both. Thor pushes you behind him as he holds him umbrella threateningly. If you weren’t in potential danger, you would have laughed at the sight. The figure floated into the light and you saw it was a man. 

He was wearing a cloak and some weird robes with yellow gloves. He was relatively handsome, salt and pepper hair that was slicked back, high cheek bones and a goatee. He wasn’t horrible to look at. His deep, baritone voice was soothing.

“God of Thunder” He said looking at Thor. He glanced at the umbrella. “ You can put down the umbrella.” Then his gaze turned to you. 

“Y/n Banner. I wasn’t expecting you here” He said eyes narrowing at you,” Shouldn’t you be in school?”

You chuckled nervously, “ Eh, how can I abandon a friend in need?” 

The man smiles and looks back at Thor and suddenly your in a different room. Looking around in awe you hear Thor start talking.

“So..Earth has wizards now” He says, picking up a dagger from a display on a table, then dropping all of them trying to put them back. You try to hold back a laugh, feeling embarrassed for the god. 

You might have failed though because Thor looked at you with an unimpressed glance. You giggle out loud this time, as you watch him struggle with the knives. Everytime he managed to put one back, another fell. 

“The preferred term is Master of the Mystic arts...” Clank! another knife falls. The man looks very unimpressed, at your giggling and Thor's clumsiness.” You can leave that now.” 

At those words Thor leaves the knifes, trying to regaine his cool, he leans against the table. 

“Alright wizard, who are you and why should I care?” 

“Thor! That’s rude!”  

Ignoring you, their conversation continues, 

“My name is Dr. Stephen Strange and I have some questions for you.”  He says as he eyes you and Thor. “Have a seat”  

Within a second you’re in another room in the building...or least you think it is. The wind blows your hair back as you are suddenly dropped into a chair. You can see Thor look around startled and confused at the sudden setting change. You’re sure your face mirrored his as well.

“Tea?” Dr. Strange asks nonchalantly, a cup of tea appearing in your hands. You look at it in awe, not used to this level of magic, or magic at all. Thor on the other hand looked unimpressed with the cup.

“I don’t drink tea.” He says examining the cup that looked small in his hands. 

“Well what do you drink?”

“Not tea.” Thor says shaking his head. You roll you eyes as you go for a sip of tea, but before you can a large pitcher of beer was in its place. You look up at the two men with a raised eyebrow. 

“I hate to be a bother, but I do drink tea” 

Strange looked at you in amusement as he returns the beer to tea. 

“Jesus made water into wine, you make beer into tea. Interesting..” You say as you sip your tea. It was perfectly brewed of course. Dr. Strange smiled at the comparison

“Well its not exactly like that” Then he turned to Thor, “ So, I keep a watch list of individuals and beings from the realms that may be a threat to this world. Your adopted brother Loki is one of those beings.” 

You scoff and roll your eyes and mutter, “Yeah no kidding.” Then you finish the last sips of tea, as you bring it down, the glass is already refilled

Thor looks up from his glass that he basically chugged,”Thats a worthy inclusion” His beer is refilled as well. He looks at it in astonishment.

“Then why bring him here?” Strange asks leaning forward.

“We’re looking for my father.” 

“So..if I were to tell you where Odin was..all parties concerned would return to Asgard” He then looks at you, “ or upper Manhattan.” 

“Promptly” “Try and keep me away from this place.” 

“Great then I’ll help you...and get to that later” 

You smirk at the doctor, knowing that it’s basically impossible to squash your curiosity once you get started. Then you realized something.

“Wait, if you knew where Odin is, why didn't you tell anyone?”

“Well he was very adamant he was not to be disturbed,” He turned to Thor, “Your father had chosen to remain in exile. Also you don’t have a phone.” 

“Hmm, no I don’t have a..a phone but you could’ve sent an electronic letter. It’s called an email.”

“Thor you don’t have a computer.”

“What for?” 

You lock eyes with Dr. Strange and share a look. 

“Uh huh well, my father is no longer in exile, so if you can tell me where he is, the quicker I can take him home.” Thor then takes a sip of his beer.

“Okay, hes in Norway.” Suddenly your on your feet again standing an a library of some sort. You’re a bit unbalance and catch yourself on the self. Strange is muttering to himself as he looks through a book. Then again, you’re in another room with a shelf. Nearly falling over you cling onto Thor, but he’s in no better shape than you, beer spilling everywhere. 

“Oh we don’t need that” Boom, in another room, this time you do fall and Thor breaks another shelf. He places the glass on a table, shaking the spilled beer of his person. 

“Can you stop doing that?” He asked irritated 

“Please” you add in, looking up from your place on the ground. 

You’re on your feet in a blink of an eye, feeling dizzy at the continuous movement. 

“Can I..I need a piece of your hair.” Strange says looking at Thor. 

“Let me tell you something, my hair is not to be --OW” 

You smile sweetly as you pass the yanked out hair to the Strange. “ Here you go Dr. Wizard.”  He makes a face at the nickname but takes the hair with a nod of thanks. Thor looks at you in betrayal. 

“Don’t be such a drama queen” You say rolling your eyes.  You then walk away from the duo, examining books and artifact that were in the room. You were too caught up in looking at all the cool stuff you didn’t pay attention to the rest of the conversation. Suddenly you were in the front room again. You managed to stay on your feet as Thor tumbled down the stairs. You watched in amazement as Dr. Strange did some hand movements and created a shape in sparks. 

“Could’ve just walked.” Thor muttered as he brushed the dust and wrinkles out off of his clothes. 

“He’s waiting for you.” Then Dr. Strange turned to you,” Would you like to go home Ms. Banner?” 

You looked at him with consideration,” Um Mister Strange, do you think you can help me find my dad?” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” Then he turned to Thor,” Don’t forget your umbrella.

“Oh right.” Thor sticks his arm out like he’s summoning his hammer. You look at him confused. Then you here several bangs and crashes, as if something is being thrown around the rooms. 

“ohhh thats where your hammer went” 

Dr. Strange looks at Thor unimpressed again.

“Sssorry” The umbrella lands in his hands and he brushes the glass off the hammer.” I suppose I need my brother back”

“Oh right”

The a portal appears a few feet off the ground, in comes Loki screaming as he falls and hits the ground. 

He flips his hair back as he catches his breath, “ I have been falling..FOR THIRTY MINUTES” 

You snicker as you go to help the god of mischief up,” Come on reindeer games, lets get you up” 

He doesn’t decline your help but he doesn’t thank you either. You turn to see Thor and Strange shake hands.

“Handle me?!” “Oh boy” “ Who are you?”

“Loki..”

“You think you’re a sorcerer? Don’t think for one minute--”

“Alright bye bye” The portal then is thrown to them as Loki charges with two daggers. 

It’s silent in the room as you whislte,” Well he’s very catty.”

Strange laughs as he nods,” Come on kid lets find your dad.”

You’re then taken back to the library and you give him a piece of your hair. 

“You have had quite the adventure today.” Dr. Strange says as he looks through the books again.

“Ehh, when you live with the Avengers stuff like this is an everyday thing.”

“I could imagine” He says smiling at you. “ Well..it seems like your father is off world”

“Off world?” You question,”why would he be...?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Then a bag appeared in front of you. 

“I have a feeling you won’t stop searching until you find your father.” He nods to the bag. “ Everything you need to survive in Sakkarr is in there, I trust you know how to use knives?” 

“Yeah, Bucky taught me.”

“Perfect, now you must try to get on the grandmasters good side, that’ll give you the resources you need to find your father. Don’t get caught by scavenger or scrapper , you’ll either get eaten or sold into slavery.”

“Slavery?” you ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Sakkarr is known to be the ‘dump’ of the universe. It’s filled with people you must be weary of. The main entertainment are these gladiator type fights the Grandmaster puts on.” He thinks for a bit the conjures up a portal. He pulls a amulet out of it then hands it to you. “If you find your father, or need a quick escape, rub this amule three times t and I’ll make a portal for you to come back home” 

You nod, nervous to go on your personal mission. You look up at Dr.strange and hug him. “ Thanks Dr.Wizard.”

He pats your back uncomfortably,” It’s Stephen.” 

You let go of him and smile,”Well, beam me up Scotty” 

He rolls his eyes and creates a portal, you take a deep breath and look at him. He sends you a reassuring smile and you’re filled with determination. Then you step through.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You step through it to see...the steps to some weird looking palace. You look around to see an even weirder looking city. It looks like its built out of scraps of metal or parts. You walk up the steps and into the palace. You look around, astonished at the amount of people?? 

Beings. So many different kinds of aliens. All different colors and shapes. It was like a Star Wars movie. Then you see a familiar face. 

“Loki??” 

He looks up at you in confusion, you speed towards him, happy to see a familiar face. Even if it is Thor's evil brother.

“Ah Thor's child friend. This doesn’t seem like your type of setting.”

“I’m looking for my father, Stephen says he’s here.” 

He scoffs, looking around the room. “It seems everyone is looking for their fathers.” 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in Norway with Thor and your dad” 

“Well it seems that father dearest has been hiding a secret daughter. Who appeared after my father died. And is destined to destroy Asgard.”

“Well shit” you blurt out. “Are..are you okay?”

Loki looks at you like you’re a puzzle. 

“What.”

“Well..” you start nervously, “it sounds like a traumatic experience, so..are you okay?”

He’s quiet for a few minutes, just staring at you. Suddenly he turns around. “We must see the grandmaster. He’s the only one who can guarantee your protection, and I’m sure you would prefer not to be slaughtered brutally in the competition.”

He walks ahead of you, and you stare after him wondering what just happened. Then after he noticed you’re not following him he turns and says

“Well, come on. I haven’t got all day.”

“Oh right.” You catch up to him and walk by his side. Looking around in wonder.

“Why are you looking around like that?” Loki asks as he makes his way through a crowd of...pink women. They had their hair in very intricate styles and weird metallic unitards. They eyed you as you passed by them.

“I feel like I’m in a Star Wars movie.” You pass by a man, he looked almost reptilian. He had pale yellow skin with green slits as his eyes. He looks like he was gambling or something.

“I don’t know what that is. Why would stars commence in battle? It makes no sense.” Loki scoffs as he turns to look at you. You laugh at his misunderstanding.

“I just..never seen..” you trail off not knowing how to explain. Luckily, Loki seems to get what you were says.

“ I can see this is a bit of a change for you. But..you have seen people from other planets before.”

“ yeah..it’s just a lot to take in.” You smile at Loki, “ I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I can freak out about it after I meet the Grandmaster.”

He nods his head and starts walking again, but this time he’s closer to you. Finally, you reach a large room. It’s filled with guards all wearing different colored armor. They part as Loki walks through them, confident with long strides. You follow him, shrinking under their gaze. Loki leans down to whisper to you

“ when you meet the grandmaster, do not be too meak . And do not mention anything about your father till I tell you. Actually, just follow my lead.”

You look up at him and before you say anything, a large woman appears in the room. She looks normal to you. Stocky, a stern face with white markings. A slicked back bun. She’s wearing yellow armor with black accents. She’s holding a large staff with an orb attached to the end.

“ Didn’t the Grandmaster just see you” she says to Loki, glaring at him. Loki smiles charmingly and says

“Oh yes, but it appears that I have found a...friend.. of mine. She, like I, has arrived here on Sakkarr by accident and is hoping to meet with the Grandmaster.”

Then Loki nudges you in front of him, and into the view of the woman. She looks at you with distaste.

“ Poor child is skin and bones. She’s puny.”

You look in offense, but before you can say anything Loki spoke for you.

“Yes, and that’s why I have decided to take her under my wing.”

“ Can she not speak for herself? You expect the Grandmaster to—“ “ Easy Topaz”

“Loki! How wonderful to see you again, even though it’s been about twenty minutes”

A voice cut through the air. Suddenly everyone in the room stood up straight. Topaz immediately stopped talking and turned. A man came in on a floating throne. He was wearing red, blue, and gold robes. He had a blue line down his chin and blue under eye liner. He...he looked like..

“Jeff Goldblum?”

Loki looked at you like you were insane and the Grandmaster and Topaz just looked confused.

“What did she call me?” He whispered to Topaz, she looked at him in equal bafflement. She then tries to hand him the staff.

“ Why are you handing me the melty stick?! She had a slip of a tounge! That’s not a capital offense”

“What is wrong with you?” “I’m sorry! It just slipped out!” “ Do you want to die” “To be fair, that was the biggest compliment I could have given him. Jeff Goldblum is basically a god of cinema.”

Topaz looked at the Grandmaster, “ apparently this..Jeff.. is a god from her world.”

“Hm, child.”

You and Loki stop your whisper arugument and turn to the Grandmaster.

“Come forward.”

You look at Loki in fear and step up to the floating throne.

“Hm” The man says as he examines you. You suddenly feel self conscious about what you’re wearing. A Jurassic park shirt (ironically) with a turtleneck under, some plaid pants and converse. To be fair you weren’t expecting to end up on a different planet.

“I don’t know what Jurassic park is, but look there’s a big lizard on her shirt” he says to Topaz, “ you like lizards?” He asks you. Your eyes widened at the question not expecting it.

“Oh I think I’ve embarrassed her, it’s okay if you like them. I don’t personally like them, they’re all scales and fast and blegh” the Grandmaster rambles then Topaz chimes in

“ and they can grow back limbs”

“Yes! That’s disgusting”

“ I’m sorry, it’s not a lizard, it’s a dinosaur ” you explain. “ it’s from a movie, it has Jeff Goldblum...”

You trail off as they stare at you.

“ Go on, you keep mentioning this Jeff Goldblum, I’d like to hear more about him.”

So there you were, explaining all the different movies Jeff Goldblum was in. From the Fly to Jurassic Park. Everyone seemed...intrested. The Grandmaster somehow got it in his head that you were this great storyteller. So now you were on his good side, just like Loki.

“ Storyteller, I welcome you to Sakkarr! I have never met a child with such interesting stories!” He turns to Topaz, “ Aren’t they entertaining?! So adventurous!”

“ I think they’re weird.” “ Oh don’t be such a buzzkill”

“ I thank you Grandmaster, for being so gracious with my...ward” Loki says, “I assure you that I will keep her out of trouble.”

“ Yes yes, now go, if she is going to stay here, she’ll need to fit in. Topaz, see if you can find a tailor for the child, she’ll need a change of clothes. You as well Loki”

She nods and gestures for you both to follow her. As you walk through the futuristic castle, you are completely in awe. Even though you live with Tony, this is a different kind of technology. Topaz gives you both a tour. She mentions the fights and the arena, but you don’t pay too much attention. Finally you make it to the tailor. After being fussed over and much debating, you finally come to an agreement.

You end up with a sort of body armor. With a black catsuit made out of a leather like material, there were pieces of armor covering your legs, hips, torso, shoulders and arms. Blue fabric was wrapped around your waist, draping down the front and under the armor there. There was also fabric wrapped around your upper arm and shoulders preventing the straps from rubbing against your skin. Finally, to top it all off, a long blue cape drape down your shoulders. You felt awesome. You took the daggers Stephen gave you out of the bag and attached them to your hips. And the amulet around your neck.

“What do you think?” You asked Loki. He looked at you for a bit.

“Your daggers should be attached to your thighs, that way the hilts are at your fingertips and not your shoulders.” He squints for a bit, “ that cape looks ridiculous.”

“Fuck off man I look awesome.”

Loki just laughs and goes to put his outfit on. “ Such foul language for a child.” Then he comes out fully dressed. With a yellow cape.

“ oh? My cape was ridiculous?”

“Hush.”

You smile, and a silence falls between you both. You sigh and look down, playing with the end of your cape. Loki looks at you, examines your face, then looks away.

“ Why...why did you ask if I was alright?” He questions, “when you first saw me..?”

You looked at him your face scrunched in a puzzled expression, “ because.”

“Because what?” Loki asks, not understanding where your coming from.

“ I don’t know, because like I said, something that traumatic must’ve been shitty. I know I wouldn’t be okay.”

“I do not understand you. Why care about someone you never met? Nevertheless someone like me?”

“Someone like you?” Now you were really confused. What does he mean by that?

“No midgardian would trust me. Especially after...” He stops, hinting about the attack of New York. “ I am not... not a good person. Nor a good influence. Not for a child.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Your words seem to startle him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“ That’s. Bullshit.” You stand to face him.

“Loki, I’ve known you for about six hours. And in that time, you managed to help me gain favor of a ruler, enough for him to give me a room to stay in and new clothes. You also helped me when you could’ve just left me alone. From what I’ve seen, you’re pretty chill.”

“Chill?” He asks quirking an eyebrow.

“A good person.”

He stops and looks at you, “ you think I’m a good person? Even though I nearly destroyed your planet?”

“ Sure. We all make mistakes.”

He stares at you for a while. Smiles briefly and then gets up from where he was leaning.

“ You, my dear, are one odd child.” He walks out of the room. “Come along, I must get you to your room. It’s late and I am certain you e had a long day.”

You follow him to your room, turns out someone was paying attention to the tour. He leads you to your temporary room, shows you how to open the door and lock it, then makes sure your settled.

“Well, it’s time for me to retire. Good night child.”

When he doesn’t get a response he turns around, he sees you’ve fallen asleep on the bed. He chuckles at the sound of you muttering in your sleep.

“ An odd child indeed.”

Then he covers you, turns out the lights and shuts the door. Leaving you to go to his room.

( he promptly freaks out over how quickly he’s grown fond of you.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @ella-ivanov​