#man wears a mask. means i dont have to draw a mouth. beautiful

[k1tty5]

eeueueuggh

[witchyfroggins]

A/N: haha, i had this idea in mind for awhile so seeing that people havent taken the holden opportunity for a oneshot or reader insert i guess my time has come!

Also the reader is said to be female but you can change it otherwise i dont mind.

Summary: in the unlikely events of an adventurer coming across the gate to the shivering isles in hopes of stopping the infinite loop of the greymarch a ball is to be hosted as a last hurrah.

Warnings: Emotions (possibly)

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Everyone in the Isles gathered in Sheoth at this evening dresses in bright or dim clothes dependinf where they rein from. Mania or dementia. You were from (Mania/Dementia) you wore a (Favorite Dress) along with your hair pinned up by a white flower from Mania's garden that you managed to sneak or just take.

The normally deserted streets were littered with people in creative masks and beautiful gowns. You had a white owl mask with real soft feathers. It only covered your eyes so you had a deep (Favorite color) Lipstick on your lips.

You were new to the isles so the reason for this beautiful Mascerade was a mystery to you but you'll enjoy it nonetheless.

Everyone was enjoying their time. Chatting with eachother, drinking and eating as they waited for the arrival of their very special guest. You knew who it was of course, the famed daedric prince of madness, sheogorath.

When you had arrived for the first time. You were confused and scared, the white bearded man welcomed you with a surprisingly warm smile on his face. Why did you not kill you? You never found out.

After that, in time you managed to serve under him from (Mania/Dementia). You always admired him. Your fear faded as soon as you looked into those golden cat like eyes. You, for a lack of a better word, interested in this prince. He could also say the same for you.

Presenting yourself so rawly to him. It was if he could see a fraction of himself in your eyes. You were nothing like the other mortals who had been sent to him after a a gruesome death. He wanted to get to know you better. So you stayed.

Back at the ball you navigated your way to the small bar that had been set up to get a drink. You were a nervous wreck, you weren't one to always wear fancy clothes. Let alone be in a fancy ball. This might as well be your first time.

As you were sipping on a glass of red wine the noise of the ball faded as everyone gazed upon the stairs as a figure appeared wearing a rather unfitting suit for the prince of madness. It was purple and styles like your normal Tuxedo but it was decorated with a golden floral pattern on one side while the other was a black thorn pattern. He dawned a golden feline eye mask above his nose.

Of course he was accompanied with his Chamberlain Haskill in his normal attire despite the event.

Everyone soon stopped their conversation as the mad prince raised both of his arms in the air with a wide cat grin on his bearded face.

"Let the Mascerade begin!" He Declared earning a cheer of approval as the floating orchestra began to play a tune on their own.

Everyone went back to their business as the mad prince stood from the top of the stairs gazing at what could be the last heart filled moment in a long time. The greymarch was upon him and he didnt have the courage to tell (y/n). But he couldn't find the right time.

As if by coincidence his eyes landed on her form. Awkwardly shuffling to the back of the room in her beautiful (Favorite color) gown and white owl mask. As if a predator was drawn to its prey he couldn't take his eyes off her.

Normally he would refrain himself from dancing with the locals. It wasnt good for reputation. But he may not get another chance. He cringed at the thought of becoming Jyggalag and hurting her.

As if battling with his own mind he had finally come to a conclusion. You only live once, as mortals say even though he was a daedric god. She could only live once.

Before he could even register what he was doing he found himself moving down the stone stairs. Grabbing the attention of his loyal followers as they fearfully cleared the floor for him as he strided confidently towards you.

It was only when he was a few feet away from you, you realised him. Almost choking on your wine as he stood in front of you in an almost intimidating way. But when you looked up to him as he was taller then you. You could see his eyes. The pupils weren't their usual shape. They were wider, his beautiful yellow irises shy of disappearing.

Quickly you placed your glass down and bowled.

"L-Lord sheogorath, how can i help you?" You asked forcing the words our of your mouth joping to play it cool. However your voice betrayed you at that moment.

You awaited his response. The simplest things could tick him off bu tonight there will always be an exception. He looked down at you, he just laughed. Not his usual maniacal laugh. It was soft almost inaudible to the people around him. But he made certain you heard it.

He hooked a finger under your chin grabbing your attention as he guided your head to look at him. You could feel the heat rise on your cheeks as you gazed up at him. A kind smile on his face.

After a moment he steppes back giving enough space between you two for him to bow to you! A mortal. The crowd began to stir, whispering among themselves as he reaxhed out with his hand.

"A dance? Mi'lady?" He asked in his usual scottish accent that sent a shver down your spine.

You by all means would jump at the chance of dancing with him. But with the people staring and whispering behind their masks she felt as if it was wrong.

"Are you certain my lord?" You asked in an accent of your own. Oh how he loved to hear you speak. It made him feel as if he were flying. Well he can fly but it was different.

He didnt speak a word sending a glare to those around them. And with one swift movement he took you gently by the hand pulling you towards his chest. One arm sliding around your waist with ease.

"Don't mind them my dear. Tonight it's just about you and me" he whispered in your ear. He waited to long for this moment for so long and it was finally here.

He couldn't help but bask in your presence. Your smell, the feeling of you in his arms. It was beautiful. He guided you to the dance floor. Your dress swaying with his movements.

The band began to play once again. The lamps that hung on strings between the buildings changed into a beautiful red hue as it focused only on them.

You averted your eyes from him. To embarrassed to look his way. He wasn't impressed by this and with a small 'tsk' freeing one hand only to hook it under your chin once more as if it never left.

"I dont much like people averting my gaze (y/n). If it wasn't for your exquisite beauty i would have had you displayed as a carpet in my throne room" he stated his voice staying the same mono tone. It almost scared you if not for his hidden compliment.

He enjoyed dancing with you. Having you entwined with his own dark soul as he spun you around. However his glee wouldn't last long. There was still the dire situation to come and he has yet to tell you. Maybe he doesn't.

Sheogorath had a beautiful idea. A way to show his affection for you and get you out of danger.

With one simple movement he spun you around once again before dipping you low enough for your hair to become undone and hit the stone floor. He kept you their for some time. Just admiring how you looked. The red of your cheeks brought out your beautiful (eye color) eyes.

You couldn't hear anything above your own racing heartbeat as the close proximity of your face and his. His breath mingling with yours. Drawing you ever so closer to him.

With out a warning his lips connected with your own. It was just as you imagined it, soft, warm and slightly chasped but it was perfect.

Both of your lips moved in perfect sinc with eachother. As if you were made for him. A perfect mortal molded into his liking without his torment. You were perfect. He couldn't let you call to his lesser half.

He pulled you back onto your feet. Never removing his lips from yours. Spinning you around fast enough that you couldn't see straight. Then the last words you would probably ever hear from him in some time.

"I'm sorry"

His words confused you but as soon as you regained your balance and the world stopprd spinning you realised you were not in the isles anymore. You were in nirn.

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All done!

Wow! That took longer then i though and it is longer then i thought.

Anyway part 2??

[justsomegirlyness]

Just Friends

Chapter 10

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: You meet and befriend Bucky Barnes

AN: Sorry it took me a million years to get this out. I love all the support you guys are throwing my way! Love you!

Tony gives you a blank stare before turning on his heel and stalking stiffly out of the room without saying another word.

You start after him, but Steve’s large hand rests on your shoulder to stop you. You sigh heavily.

“He’s angry with me,” you weakly protest, deflating even as the words come out of your mouth.

“He’s afraid for you,” Steve corrects gently, the rumble of his deep voice rolling through your worried heart. His eyes scan over you, recognizing the physiological response of your anxiety, and he envelops you in a hug. “Hey,” he says as he squeezes you sweetly, “It’s okay.” You relax as his warm weight around you melts and calms your fears.

He pulls back after he hears your breathing return to normal. “Come on,” he says seriously. “Let’s go find Bucky.” And he’s quickly out of the room, leaving you to trot after him.

“Steve,” you say after you catch up to him. “Aren’t you worried, too?”

He glances at you, and sets his jaw as he continues his quick pace.“I trust Bucky. And if anything goes wrong, I’ll be there for you. You can count on me.”

“What?” You ask, struggling not to pant from trying to keep up with Steve.

“I know you’re worried he won’t be able to control himself and that he might hurt you,” Steve clarified, causing your jaw to drop. “But I think he can do it. And if he can’t, you have a houseful of Avengers to keep you safe. I know there are risks, I do, but if--”

“No, no Steve,” you interject, pulling him to a stop. He turns to face you, and you see the plain worry on his face.

“What?” he asks you in turn.

“I thought you would be afraid for Bucky,” you say, feeling the astonishment linger on your face.

“Why in the world would I be worried about Bucky?” He asks you, dark brows pulling together.

“I hurt him!” You say, flabbergasted that you had to explain this to him. “The first time I shook his hand I floored him. I could electrocute him, I could give him brain damage, I could send him into flashbacks... If I sent him into that and he ended up hurting someone, I would just die, Steve, I would. Bucky doesn't want to hurt anyone and what if I--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, softly. You realize your voice had been getting pretty loud and shrill. “Listen, I know those are risks. God knows, you’re a true force to be reckoned with. But the idea is to recover his memories. He knows that means that he’s going to have flashbacks, and if he’s still up for that, isn’t that his choice?”

“Yes, but--”

“And Hydra has already done so much to him, I don’t think you even compare to those monsters… those malicious bastards…” Steve shakes his head, refocusing on his point. “He’s going to spend a lot of time trying to right their wrong. What kind of life is he going to have until he can trust himself again? After the first time, so many of his memories started coming back. Bad ones, terrible, excruciating ones. But before, when I first found him, he didn’t even remember who I was. It took so much work, so much sacrifice, just to get him to recognize me again. After he touched you, it got easier. And this second time, he recovered so much faster. He let you go before I got to him. And he remembers things that he didn’t before. He remembers his sister, his mom. He remembers where he went to school. He remembers that he was drafted into the war, and pretended to enlist so I wouldn’t be disappointed in him. And he’s becoming himself again. Slowly, painfully. But it’s happening. I would do anything for Bucky to feel safe with himself again.”

You stare at him. Captain America was passionate, but you had never seen him like this. His hands shook and his eyes flashed like a glowing blue furnace.

You take a deep breath.

“Okay,” you breathe out. “Okay, Cap. You convinced me. I’ll do my best not to barbecue your bestie.

Steve relaxes and chuckles slightly. “Now let’s go convince him.”

“What?” You squawk at him as he takes off down the hall again. You jog to catch up, even though your limbs are stiff from being in the infirmary and your throat feels like it’s on fire. “Jesus the Fucking Son, Cap! You’re telling me that I have to try to persuade him into mothershitting electroshock therapy?” Anger and fear are crawling hotly up your bandaged, aching throat.

He stops and looks at you.

“Take a shower,” he says. You suddenly realize that he had walked you to your room.

“You’re changing the subject?” You snap at him.

“No,” he says, reaching for the handle and pulling you through the door. “I’m being realistic. You’ll feel better after a shower, too.” He pushes you into the bathroom and shuts the door.

“Hey!” you try to yell, but it comes out sounding like a broken recorder.

“I’ll find you a scarf or something,” Steve calls through the door he’s holding shut.

“It’s not like I’m going to seduce him into the electric chair, Steven Grant Rogers,” you say to him, knowing his enhanced senses would hear you. You hear him mutter to F.R.I.D.A.Y. and hot, steamy water turns on. You sigh. A shower did sound nice after all. Steve was just one of those people who knew what was best for you, no matter how infuriating it might be.

You glance at your neck after you get out of the shower. It's really not that bad, you think to yourself. It looks worse than it is because your skin got pinched between the segmentation of his fingers, so there are patterned, dark bruises there. But you can barely see the actual finger marks. Sure, you heal fast. Not that fast, though.

After you step out of the bathroom, you see that Steve laid out a sweater for you to wear. You pick it up, letting the soft black cashmere run between your fingers. He must have rifled through your entire closet to find this top. You never ever wear it.

Slipping it over your head, you pull on some jeans and sneakers and head out the door, expecting to see Steve. But, you dont see him anywhere.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” You call out, and you see the panel of lights by your door flash. “Where is Steve?”

“Captain Rogers has requested you meet him in the greenhouse,” was all the accented voice gave in reply.

“Alrght, tell him I’m on my way,” you sigh, tugging at the collar of your sweater. “And tell him that I hate turtlenecks.”

*********

You head up to the rooftop greenhouse. You hear a voice with your enhanced ears, and it leads you to a dark head bent over in concentration. Bucky, with his hair pulled back into a bun, is nursing a young fern and softly petting its tender leaves. As you draw a little closer, you’re able to make out his soft words.

“The Iron Man guy wants me gone, you know. It’s not like I can say I blame him,” he’s speaking casually, and apparently to the fern. “I think… everyone… would be better off without me here. Everyone would be safer. But Steve won’t let me go, and I can’t just abandon him again. And who knows what I could do out there, in the world… Maybe it’s best to stay here,” he says, with the slightest note of sadness trailing along his voice. “Besides,” he breathes, turning to a rosebush. His voice the softest you had ever heard it. “Who would take care of you guys if I left?”

“Are you talking to a fern?” you hear yourself ask. His head snaps up, ice eyes meeting yours. His rugged features freeze over into a mask, and you find yourself filled with regret that you ruined his soft moment.

“Yes. Yeah,” Bucky replies, straightening. “It’s good... for them. The carbon dioxide from your breath helps them grow,” He brushes his hands off on his jeans and scratches his beard. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here,” he adds, stiffly.

You look away, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you. What were you doing here? He’s right. You shouldn’t be here. How much could you really help him? You, you? You were not the helping type. You were a destructive force of nature. You ripped things apart and scorched them into oblivion. You were a murderer, a monster. And Bucky? He was disgusted with you, the way he should be.

Bile rises in your throat. “I.. I have no idea,” you manage to choke out, before you whirl around to leave.

And run straight into the very large and solid form of Steven Grant.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks you, catching you by the arms, jaw set.

“Um… Far, far away from here?” You mumble, trying to pry his gentle but granite hold from your upper arms.

Steve rolls his eyes, and looks like he’s about to say something when Bucky interrupts.

“I said no, Steve,” he hisses through his teeth. You turn to look at his face, and his grey-blue eyes are fixed on the collar of your black turlteneck sweater.

“Steve, if he’s not comfortable with this…” you start to say, flinching slightly as the memory of your mother swims into the forefront of your mind.

Bucky harshes out a breath. “See?” he mutters to Steve.

“Okay, you two,” Steve suddenly barks. He has his Captain America voice on, and he’s giving orders now. “We’re going to do this, because we’re a team. That means we help each other. No more negotiations. You,” he points his index finger at Bucky. “Are going to get your memories back because you want them and need them in order to get better. And you,” he says, whirling and pointing that finger at you. “Are going to use this opportunity to develop your powers and stop being so afraid of yourself. Got it?”

“Fuck off, Steve,” Bucky mutters. “You can’t force her to put herself in danger like that.”

Your eyes snap up, suddenly meeting his. You feel air rushing into your lungs as you gasp slightly, and you see confusion flit across his beautiful features.

“I…” you start. Oh, you think. Oh.

“It’s okay, I understand,” Bucky replies, staring down at his metallic fingers, rolling the knuckles back and forth slowly. “I was right, right?” He glances up at you through his dark lashes before his face crumples and he looks down again, trying to make the pain on his face less obvious. “I am a monster.”

“Wh- Buck,” you say, your voice thick. You take a step toward him, and another until you’re almost right in front of him. You duck a little lower to meet his gaze and you hold it as you straighten.

“Bucky, I’m not afraid of you,” you whisper, looking him directly in the eye. His jaw pulses with emotion. “I could never be afraid of you, Bucky Barnes.”

He sharply turns away from you, shoulders stooping slightly as he runs his silver fingers through the strands of hair that escaped his bun.

“So,” Steve interrupts. “We’re doing this?”

Bucky straightens, squaring his shoulders. He turns to face the two of you again, and he gives Steve a curt nod before blowing past you and out of the greenhouse.

You and Steve share a look.

This is going to be fun…

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Just Friends Tag List

The ones that are struck through are the ones that didn't work :(

@buttercup337 @potc-lover @ani808 @mala-firebringer @queenofstarliqht @valiantlyirontree @cfloyd776 @waywardpumpkin @itsshelbygates @ariii271 @dottirose

[inkstainedfanfics]

Almost Easy

Summary: Reader needs to find a person that’s particularly good at hiding. Newt needs someone to clean up the messes his thugs leave behind as he searches for answers about his brother’s death. A self-proclaimed pyromaniac and a gang leader may just find allies in one another as they work to exact revenge on the ones that wronged them.

Word Count: 3,854

Pairing: Newt x Reader (not romantic)

Tagging @dont-give-a-bother​ and @sonuvawitch​

Any comments/opinions on this piece, positive or negative, are welcome and encouraged

Fire crackles around you as the blood-splattered curtains turn into ash. The rug disappears as well, fading quickly into a pile of dust, next to the smoldering remains of the desk you’d chosen to burn first. It’d been beautiful, an obvious work of carpentry not many could accomplish.

Precisely why you’d decided it needed to go the second you walked in the room.

Avery raises an eyebrow, arms crossed where he stands in the doorway. “Are you gonna burn with all of this?”

You ignore the question, wiping at the sweat beading up on your forehead. “You placed the bomb?”

“You doubt me?”

Glancing at him sharply, you shake your head. “Answer the question or don’t. Leave the smart comments outside.” You’re on a mission, for Merlin’s sake.

Avery whistles, a low sound. “Forgot that you get touchy once you get the flames going.”

You glare at him as flames hit the lighter fluid you tossed in the corner and erupt.

“Did you or didn’t you?”

“Did.”

“In the vault?”

“Just outside of it, actually. Boss had bad information. We’ll get a bigger explosion where I set it.”

You watch him, wary. “You’re certain?”

Avery’s eyes flash, and he straightens, responding to your offhanded challenge. “When am I not right? You’ve got your expertise, I’ve got mine.”

The flames from the rug lick at your boots now, and their heat burns your calves. “Then I suppose we should get out of here. Decker’s got the car?”

Avery relaxes, slipping the bag he’s been carrying from his shoulder and tossing it to you. “Course she does. I swear she likes that more than the torture.”

You catch the bag and roll your eyes. “We don’t torture them.”

He grins, a wicked sight as the scar that runs over his lips and down his chin stretches with it. “If that helps you sleep, be my guest. Call it interrogation.”

The black ski-mask, a guard against anyone identifying you sneaking out, captures the heat filling the room, holding it against your cheeks and nose, but you slide the rough fabric over your face. “We gather information for Mr. Scamander, that’s all.” The words are sharp, meant to convince Avery that no, you don’t want to discuss the parts of this job that result in corpses and bloody knives.

But Avery’s an arrogant asshole. “But how? Think they like our methods? Think they wish we kept them alive just a little longer so we could-“

“Let’s go.” You say, shoving the bag against his chest as you stomp past him. You don’t want to think about the countless bodies left in your wake today, the bodies that won’t be returned to their families, not after Avery’s job works. You were hired on to burn evidence. That’s all.

“Ah come on,” he says, following you down the ornate staircase, “you’re Scamander’s pet. Surely you don’t mind a bit of death.”

“I don’t kill people.”

“And the security guard?”

You blink back the image of the stocky man, his hand trembling as he held the revolver, pointing it at your temple. “I had no choice.” You growl through clenched teeth.

“Stunning curse?”

“Mr. Scamander said no curses. Not today.”

“You’re the one destroying the evidence. He’d never know.”

“The man would be alive.” You snap. “He’d be alive as everything burned around him.”

Avery scoffs, feet pounding against the steps. “Don’t tell me you’re really that soft-hearted.”

You land on the ground floor, panting, wishing the flames were around you again so you could send them spiraling toward Avery. A nip, that’s all he needs, a small bite from the flames and he’ll watch what he’s saying to you.

Drawing your wand, you turn around.

Avery throws his hands up, sly grin returning to his face. “You wouldn’t really shoot the one guy that’s on your side here, would you?”

“Move or go up in flames with the staircase.” You let a beat pass before returning his wicked smile. “Your choice.”

His grin widens. “I knew you had a sadistic bone in there somewhere.” Then he bounds down the final few steps, landing next to you. The stench of his cologne suffocates you, ruins the moment as you cast incendio and watch the lighter fluid spread down the railings and the sides of the steps explode into flames.

Avery whistles again, and you have to resist the urge to hit him for it. How hard is it to shut up?

Far off in the New York streets, firetruck alarms blare. The trucks must be bumbling toward you. Slow. They’re always too slow.

“How much time do we have?”

Avery glances at his watch. Leather. Shiny face. Thick, black numbers. You don’t want to know where a goon like him got it from.

“Two minutes if you did everything right. Ten if you didn’t.”

His jab passes you as you watch the brilliant red and orange fill the hallway. The heat’s back, boiling you alive, and you feel a swell in your chest as it all begins to crumble with cracks and pops and snaps.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Avery turns with you, reaching for the door handle. “Decker’s got the car in an alley five blocks away. We hoof it. Keep your head down. Flatfoots are probably on the way. Don’t get caught.”

You nod, giving the flames a final glance before letting Avery lead you to the front. He’s serious now, all guises of being goofy and carefree disappearing as he scans the area outside.

“It’s clear for now. Hurry.”

You can’t help but admire this side of him. It’s these times, when he takes the lead in your small group of three, that you understand why Mr. Scamander hired him. He’s professional, respectable, and an asset anyone in this career would be lucky to have.

You rush to keep up with his stride as the moonlight bounces off the two of you. He’s a giant, dwarfing anyone and anything nearby, and you struggle to stay by his side. Hurry. An easy command for him.

Two blocks away from the building, you both tear off your masks, casting a quick spell to transform your dark pantsuits into more respectable clothing: him into a three piece suit and you into your own flapper dress, complete with a headband dripping with rhinestones and glittering jewels. Avery tugs his fedora low over his eyes.

You manage another block, half running as the watch ticks away the time remaining. The flames will be near the bomb now. You can almost picture the glowing reds that are eating away the beautiful woodwork inside, almost smell the smoke that’s clouding the ceiling, almost hear the cracks of breaking wood and burning bookshelves. You fight the urge to go back, to watch everything happen, reminding yourself that Mr. Scamander needs you.

Avery’s voice knocks you from your thoughts.

“Grab my arm. We’ve got flatfoots just around the bend.”

“So draw your wand.”

“Merlin’s sake.” He mutters before grabbing your hand. “Just try to pretend you’re in love with me.”

“Excuse me?” You hiss, but have no chance to let him elaborate when a voice stops you.

Two officers step out of a shadowed alleyway, hands on their belts. One’s older, obvious by the way he walks toward you with a raised chin and ramrod straight back. Experienced. Or, at least, he believes he is. His badge glints in the moonlight. His partner, a younger man, steps forward, but stops at the first officer’s hand.

“Pretty late to be walking around, isn’t it, folks?” The first officer asks, his gravelly voice a grating sound in the silence of the night.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. I think it’s a lovely night. You don’t agree?”

Your eyes slide to Avery’s watch. Half a minute until the building explodes. He just needs to stall until then.

There doesn’t need to be another death.

“I don’t know.” The first officer continues. “Pretty cold out for your woman to just wear that isn’t it?”

You bristle at that comment, but Avery squeezes your hand tight. So tight you nearly yelp.

Another command.

“Sure, sure. The whiskey’s keeping her warm enough for now, but I’m trying to get her home quick as I can. Be easier if I weren’t stopped unjustly.” There’s a layer in his voice, a warning the cop seems to pick up on.

The older cop sizes Avery up. “Don’t know what you mean by unjustly.”

Avery grins, and you can see the malice beneath it as his hand drifts in his pocket. “Me and my wife are just trying to get home, sir. You going to let us?”

Fifteen seconds.

“Why don’t you step away from the lady, sir.”

“What for?”

Ten seconds.

“Just want to talk to the both of you.”

“We’re perfectly fine, sir.”

Five seconds.

The cop’s hand lands on his gun. It’s tiny, but threatening enough to cause harm if he draws it. You squeeze your eyes shut. Not again.

Three seconds.

“Wrong choice.” Avery says between gritted teeth.

The gunshot’s boom melts in the sudden chaos, overshadowed by the loud rupture of the building behind you.

A part of you is disappointed. You missed it, the initial spillage of flames and fire and concrete into the quiet street, missed seeing the very fire you began end. Another part of you is disgusted. The officer stumbles around pathetically, hand clenched around his throat, mouth opening and closing and opening again like the fish you caught years ago while fishing with your best friend. The final part of you is thrilled as you fall forward, only missing the ground thanks to Avery’s strong grip.

He shoves you forward, gaining his balance sooner than the younger officer who’s struggling to draw his gun.

“Run to Decker and stay the hell out of trouble. I’ll take care of this.”

“Mr. Scamander says to stay together.”

Avery growls. Honest to Merlin growls, eyes burning with anger. “Get the hell out of here before I kill you myself. I’ll meet you at the car.”

“Hell no, Avery. More are coming. You’ll be dead.”

Avery’s lip curls into a snarl. “Go before I make you.”

He says something more, eyes wild, but you don’t hear it. The officer’s drawn his gun, lined it up with Avery’s head, and his finger’s moving toward the trigger.

You leap forward, thinking of nothing but Avery’s unmoving body. There’s been enough death. He won’t fall, too.

The officer is light, thank Merlin, and your hit knocks him off balance. The gunshot bursts, a sharp pop in your ear. Avery’s voice follows quickly, muted, screaming your name as you roll across the ground with the officer.

The officer’s screaming himself, a wordless scream meant only to convey his terror as he scrambles to right himself, the gun still in his hand. Grabbing his wrists, you keep the gun pointed away.

He shoves a foot in your gut, hard, and the air rushes from your chest as your supper threatens to reappear. You curl into a ball, grabbing your stomach, releasing his hands.

Then the gun’s pointed at your head, a swinging silver glint, and you squeeze your eyes shut, ready for it all to end.

Then it’s gone, the bullet erupting out of the gun scraping the inside of your elbow, leaving a streak of burning flames on your skin.

You gulp in breaths, unable to scream, unable to move, unable to even think as you try to refill your lungs.

Somewhere nearby, Avery scuffles with the officer, feet pound toward you, and alarms blare. Still, you remain on the ground, convulsing as you finally manage a full breath.

The bag. You need the bag.

Drawing your wand, you cast accio, charming the lighter fluid hidden somewhere in there. The muggle officer’s too caught up in his fight with Avery, and the others, the ones a block away now, won’t live long enough to remember the magic.

You take a deep breath when the bottle hits your hand. Death. So much death.

Shutting your eyes, you picture your best friend, his face, and nod once to yourself. If the officer’s won’t let you go, they’ll have to die. You have a date with revenge soon, and nothing’s going to stop you.

Yanking the cap off with your shaking hand, you splash it everywhere around you, careful to be sure it misses your clothes, leaving a small circle of dry cement around you. A plan. You need a plan.

Avery struggles with the officer, moving around his back, grabbing his chin and forehead.

Your stomach turns as the man realizes what’s happening at the same time as you.

As you watch the scene unfold, helpless, you smell smoke for a moment, a curl of it, feel it burn your nose, though there’s no smoke around, not for two blocks.

Then Avery’s hands twist and it’s over with, and you’re safe except for the officers that are only a half block away now, their feet so close to landing in lighter fluid.

“Avery, over here, now!” You shout, eyes focusing only on Avery’s scar, his dark eyes, the way his stubble doesn’t grow in one spot on his neck. Anything but the glassy-eyed man at his feet.

Avery dashes to your side, kneeling next to you. “You okay?”

No time for pleasantries. “My matches. Grab one, light it, and toss it.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” You grab at your elbow, squeezing your eyes shut. It bites more than you would’ve imagined.

The officers are in the puddle of lighter fluid now, raising their guns.

“Avery, do something quickly for the first time in your miserable life.”

The match flares in his hand. “You’re so impatient.” He mutters it like it’s a joke, but you can see the terror in his eyes. He doesn’t want to go down, not like this.

You let go of your wound, hand coated in blood now, and grab his white shirt. “Grab me.” You say as the match soars to the ground.

A shame, you think, that you don’t get to see the flames erupt around you, don’t get to feel their heat, but Avery has both arms around your waist and you’re apparating, squeezed through a rubber tube. For a moment, you can see five nails, manicured, painted a light pink, then you’re falling on your face right next to Avery.

Merlin, you hate apparition.

You land in a heap on the ground of Mr. Scamander’s office. Rolling onto your back, you hiss out a curse and grab your arm again. Avery’s next to you, unmoving, just cussing as filthily as he can, staring up at the ceiling.

“Why the hell,” he finally says, “didn’t you listen?”

You gulp in a deep breath of the room’s smoky air, grateful for the chance to actually breathe. “He was about to kill you.”

“I had it under control.”

“Fine, I’ll just let him shoot you in the head next time. Would that be better?” You snap, turning your head to glare at Avery.

He props himself up on an elbow, rolling his eyes. “You’re crazy.”

“And you’re an idiot.” Damn it, your arm hurts.

Avery reaches out, grabbing your hand and dragging it away from the wound. “It’s shallow.”

“I know. That’s doesn’t mean it doesn’t burn.”

Avery’s eyes light up, anger fading fast. “You��re the fire girl. You should enjoy the burn.”

“Shut up and just help me.” You take another deep breath, reveling in the scent of cigars permanently absorbed in the room. It’s a soothing scent, a familiar one you learned to enjoy when you began working with Mr. Scamander the previous year.

“Oh, come on, you saying you didn’t mean to make that pun?”

His anger’s completely gone now, and you’re grateful for it. He can be a real jackass, but when it comes down to it, Avery’s not the worst man you’ve met. “Just fix it, please.”

He chuckles, reaching for his wand.

A familiar voice interrupts any chance of getting comfortable. “Any information?”

Avery blinks as the wound finishes knitting itself back together, then scrambles to his feet, giant body casting a shadow over you. His eye’s bruised and his lip’s bleeding, but he seems no worse for the wear otherwise. Lucky bastard. “None, sir. They were a decoy, just like the other leads.”

Mr. Scamander, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, mustard vest half-buttoned, crosses the room, stepping behind the huge oak desk that fills the center of the room. “Not a thing? You’re sure? Not a mention of the senators, the concilmen?”

His footsteps clack against the wooden floor past the rug, and you notice his boots are untied. He just woke.

“They were just grifters, sir. Swear it.”

It’s unnerving, the silence that follows those words. Undoubtedly, Mr. Scamander’s disappointed, angry, ready to track down the informants that gave false information, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t scowl, doesn’t do anything but reach for one of the desk’s drawer.

He’s the epitome of calm, and it makes you wish you’d stood when Avery did. “You checked everything?”

“Every nook and cranny, sir.”

“Yes, well, I suppose you can’t expect news of your dead brother from a group of criminals, can you?” His lips twitch up as though he’s made a joke, but neither you nor Avery react. His icy gaze sweeps to where you lie on the ground a moment later. “And you destroyed it all?”

You shove yourself to your feet, ignoring the ache of your muscles, taking Avery’s hand. For a second, it’s callused, rough, as though the hand of an old friend you once knew, and his face morphs, too, and you almost shout. Almost. But then it’s over with and it’s normal and Mr. Scamander’s staring at you, so you wipe your hands on the front of your ruined dress and open your mouth. “I did, Mr. Scamander, sir.”

He nods. “Good.” He takes a box of cigars from the drawer. “Avery, Decker’s downstairs. She has a hostage. I’m certain she’d appreciate your help bringing him up here.”

“Right away, sir.” Avery gives you a glance, but turns away, yanking open the heavy office doors.

They shut with a click, leaving you and your boss alone.

It’s silent for a moment before Mr. Scamander speaks, eyes darting up to you. “How are you?”

“Sorry?”

He jerks his chin toward your bloody hand. “That’s yours?”

You raise it, staring at the amount of red covering it, relieved you can answer him truthfully. “Yeah.”

“This line of work isn’t easy.” He fidgets with the box in his hand, “If you’d prefer to leave, I would understand.”

Despite the exhaustion slowly creeping in as your adrenaline fades, you stiffen at the comment.  “All due respect, sir, but you never offer Avery a way out, and I’m just as capable as he is.”

Mr. Scamander smiles at this, the corners of his lips moving up, the wrinkles around his eyes revealing just how tired he is. “Avery’s been here too long to leave.”

You stare at him, trying to read what he’s thinking as he lights the cigar. Avery’s only worked with him for six more months than you. Sure, he’s been here since Mr. Scamander became a true contender in the underworld, but he’s not any more important to the operation than you are.

“Avery’s as new as me.”

Mr. Scamander shakes his head. “He’s done this his whole life. You haven’t, have you? You had a life before joining me, didn’t you?”

You stiffen as he lifts the cigar to his lips. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.” Or how he could know, not when you’ve kept it buried so deep under lies and half-truths that even you wonder if you’ll forget.

But no, that’s impossible. Every moment of that damned night is inescapable, the scars carved deep in your mind. You won’t forget.

That doesn’t mean Mr. Scamander needs to know.

Mr. Scamander watches you. “Perhaps it isn’t.” He murmurs. “But it’s important for you to consider. Why are you here?”

You mean to answer, but the scars, they’re throbbing, and you can’t block it out, not after a mission, not when you’re so tired.

The smell of the smoke’s going to your head, making you dizzy, and you swear the wound’s splitting open on your arm again as you sway back and forth, memories flashing in your vision. You can hear the screams again, see the smoke curling its way to the black sky.

Destruction.

Mr. Scamander’s in front of you suddenly, hands gripping your shoulders, holding you up. “Are you all right?”

You try to nod, to say something, but your words are gone and your tongue’s too heavy to move, to form the necessary motions to say what you need. His smell, the cigar, it makes it worse, and you can’t shake it out of your head as he drapes your arm around his shoulder, taking you somewhere.

You stumble forward, eyes shut but still seeing.

Dark blood under five manicured nails, screams tearing from somewhere far away that you can’t make out no matter how much you squint,  acrid smoke burning your nose, rough hands under your arms, dragging you forward, whispering words of comfort in your ears, trying to block out the sounds of death.

“Merlin, make it stop.” You mutter, wishing you could go back, change it all, make sure it never happens. Then you’d be okay. Then you’d be at home with your family and friends and pets, not here, not next to the biggest gang lord in New York, so close you can count the scars on his hands.

Mr. Scamander’s saying your name, setting you down on something soft, something fluffy, and then he’s rubbing circles on your back.

You blink again, a scream building in your throat, but then it’s all gone. Vanishes as quickly as it comes.

Mr. Scamander peers at you, concern clear on his face, the scar over his eyebrow pulled down with his frown. “You’re not okay.”

You shrug. “It’s nothing.”

You can hardly keep your eyes open, exhaustion crawling through your veins, tugging you down onto the bed Mr. Scamander set you on. Sleep. That will keep it all away. That will it tuck it back into the out of mind place it belongs for now.

“Why are you here?” He whispers, half a question for you, half a question he says to puzzle out himself.

“You led me here.” You murmur, hoping the joke will get him to leave you be. Goosebumps not from chills but from fear cover your arms, obvious to Mr. Scamander thanks to your silver dress.

His jaw clenches. Wrong answer. “You offered to help me. Why?”

You force your eyelids to open, peering up at Mr. Scamander’s worried face.

You’ve never told him or Decker or even Avery. It’s your secret.

You swallow, a final face flashing before your eyes.

You smile lightly, more cheeky than honest. “I have someone to track down, and you’re going to help me.”

[jupiterisagirl-blog]

Un named: i wrote this out of pure boredom and depression please tell me what you think!

It was a warm spring day, the birds were singing frolicking in the sky. The traffic was loud like heards of elephants trampling across the desert. In a small hospital room a woman laid in the white bed, tubes and cords connecting to her like she was a battery powering the big pharmaceutical companies to "cure" her of her ailments. At her side was her daughter, she held her hand tightly humming the tune of her mothers favorite song. She smiled closing her eyes imagining she was front row looking up at her beautiful daughter singing 'Hoy Quiero Confesar' by. Isabel pantoja. The words sliding off of her tonge rolling into the air absorbed by the ears of the calm and emotional crowd. "Its time to eat mrs. Garcia" the words broke through her splendid day dream disintegrating it into the depths of her brain. "Sorry i didnt mean to bother you. We just follow the schedule." The tall nurse said as she laid the tray down on mrs. Garcias lap then left the room closing the door slowly behind her. "Want me to go get you some real food mamá?" Her daughter said knowing her mother well enough to know she hated the hospital food. "It would be sweet of you mija." She reached into her purse fishing for money she prayed she had. "Dont worry mamá i have it." She kissed her mothers head and pulled the hood of her jacket over hers, leaving the room. She walked down the hallway the smell of medical equipment and disinfectant swirled around in the air like a thick translucent fog. She felt as if every step she took more and more people laid their sharp eyes right on her she picked up her pase almost as if she was scared, only because she truly was the anxiety of people around her made her head buzz and her skin crawl her stomach churned feeling as if she would explode at any moment. She reached the door quickly escaping out, the harsh sunlight hit her light gray jacket she felt it through the thin fabric heating up her skin like a small plug in heater. While she made her way to the main sidewalk she put her headphones in one at a time not taking her eyes off of her feet as if she had done it a million times. Down the street was the small latin café that her mother dearly enjoyed. The road was almost like a video game to her everyone could be an enemy she thought as she never looked at one person. She would get lost into the music her hands in the pockets of her jacket the rhythm filled her ears swirling around her brain masking every negative thought she was having it took her to a place of enjoyment she closed her eyes swaying her hips a little not realizing the boy infront of her, all of a sudden "CRASH" they were both on the ground covered in papers she was laying ontop of something she slowly opened her eyes and looked at what cushioned her fall, she was laying ontop of someones chest she then quickly got up trembling she reached down to see if this stranger was un harmed "i swear i didnt see you i-i was side tracked i am so sorry!.." she looked down at him and lifted the paper from his face she caught a glimps of pinks and blues looking at the paper it was one of the most beautiful intricate drawings she had ever seen. "Wow did you draw the-?" She suddenly stopped and looked down at him he was stocky and pretty scruffy he was darker than her but not much taller he wore a blue jersey and some black jeans. He was the most beautiful man she had ever encountered. He looked back up at her most of her body covered by a baggy jscket and jogger pants. "Yesh i did draw these." He said as he had been trying to pick them all up. "Sorry i shouldve watched where i was going." He chuckled showing his bottom snaggle tooth it was the cutest thing she had ever seen. She remained in awkward silence then handed him the paper and quickly sprinted off busting into the cafè. "Fuck that could've ended so terrible fuck fuck fuck." She muttered to herself then sat down at a table for a moment to gather herself. The hood of ger jacket fell down exposing her messy bun of very tight wavy almost black hair, her skin was very tan with an olive undertone, she had dark brown eyes and full lips. Her hand ran accros her jogger pocket to get her wallet but she didn't feel it in there she felt the other pocket not feeling it she started to panic all of a sudden the sunshine from the window was blocked, she looked up to see the handsome man she had crashed into moments earlier he had a slight grin holding her wallet. "I think this might be yours?... Carmen Rodríguez?" He said as he smiled looking at her id in the clear slot of the black wallet. Her face was flushed and she reached up for it. "Th-that's me...thank you for finding it i almost had a panic attack." She said and pushed a faint smile out. "Of course it was the least i could do for knocking into you." He put it in her hand. He had hairy arms and tattoos covering his hands clearly they went up into his sleeves. Her heart was fluttering she had never met someone so attractive before the feeling of bravery suddenly popped into her like someone filling a balloon then popping it. "Would you like to grab something to eat with me?" She asked hesitantly she was so scared he would say no. "Absolutely! I actually was on my way to eat anyways haha." He laughed and lit up like a fire. They both sat down and began to talk about everything and nothing she giggled and ate be did the same. He had revealed her name to him he was Christian pérez. "You were really born in puerto rico?" She asked with a fork in her hand. "Haha yeah i haven't been back to the island since i was 8 though. What about you little miss cubana hehe." She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Ive actually never been to havana my abuelita said it wasnt a good place to go though. They are really in poverty its sad." He pushed a nervous chuckle. "Oh im sorry to hear that but hey can i get your number id love to do this again, if you would?" He said scooting forward getting his phone. The two exchanged numbers and left the café, as she walked into her mothers hospital room she smiled. "Mija you took forever i was worried." Her mother said looking up at her "im so sorry mamá. I kinda met a boy..." her mother jumped a little excitedly. "You did how did it go??" Her mother was full of questions all afternoon they talked. She kissed her mother goodnight and walked outside to go home. She had let her long hair down to breath a little as she smiled walking home. The breeze blew through the building and past her. She felt happy but she kept thinking about the secret she didn't tell him. A few weeks had passed and carmen was on her front step getting ready to play her music, she was wearing a pair of light blue torn short shorts with a black crop top with roses right on top of her small breasts. She was waiting for Christian sitting on the concrete railing she wasn't paying attention behind her all of a sudden two big arms wrapped around her waist and a scratchy short beard burried into her neck. "Im either being attacked by a big foot or my date has finally shown up." She giggled. "Why not both!" He kissed her cheek and she turned around and gave him a big hug. The two were going to his mothers house for dinner. They held hands as they walked along the sidewalk. "I hope she doesn't hate me." She said looking forward. "Why would she hate you?" He looked down at her. "I dont know i kinda look like a hooker." She giggled covering her mouth because she was insecure about her smile. "Id sure pay for you you." He smiled and kissed the top of her head. The two stopped at a big red door and he knocked. Moments later a older woman with short curly dark hair opened the door she had a red night gown on. "Mijo! Youre late!" She gave him a big hug and then looked at carmen. "And you must be carmen he did say you were beautiful he was very right!" The old woman chuckled and walked in her house as did the two could. The smell of home cooked food filled the small apartment and the table had been set. "You two pull up a chair and dig in carmen honey you look like you're wasting away." Carmen giggled and sat down scooping a big plate of rice. After everyone had eaten and got aquatinted Christian held Carmens hand showing him his old room she sat on the bed looking at all the anime posters. "Wow this sure is...something." She said as she looked around "yah im a nerd." he stood in front of her and she stood up he ran his hand along the side of her neck his fingers going into her kitchen area the black wavy hair was soft to the touch and felt like silk against his fingers she closed her eyes and felt his hand with hers they werent much bigger but hers were much softer. "Carmen youre the first girl ive ever technically dated and i dont know im truly falling for you." He said looking into her eyes his eyes were brown and the other a hazel color she got lost in them on multiple occasions. He slowly leaned in to kiss her feeling her soft rose petal like lips against his, she slid her hands up his chest and wrapped them around his neck and kissed back. Suddenly they fell onto his childhood bed and rolled over to where she was ontop. Her hair kept falling into his face so he held it up for her. He slowly felt his hand up to her chest grabbing at one of her breasts, her heart began to pound faster in her chest she slowly lifted her shirt off exposing her small breasts. She was embarrassed at the size and shape but all he coukd think about was how beautiful she was he reached up and kissed the top of her breast making his way up to her neck leaving a trail of blue-green bruises he slowly reached into her pants she was so caught up in the moment of feeling like a normal girl she forgot about her little secret. His finger tips felt a slender sausage like appendage be reached his hand back and she realized what happened. "Chris..i-i can explain." He stood up and looked at her and started removing his shirt. She was confused as he lifted uo the black shirt he revealed a binder covering his chest. She was astonished and jumped up into his arms she held him tightly and kissed him deeply she felt relieved and free like a bathtub of water was drained and let off of her. "I never knew babe.." she said as she looked in his eyes "that makes two of us hehe." He giggled and kissed her again.