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camels-pen · 2 years

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(Deadman has important information on a bad guy, there's magic involved, the fate of the world is at stake, etc etc)

"Right, so how are we doing this?" John asked. "Are you gonna possess me or the boy scout?"

"What, not the Bat?" Batman glared at him and Boston held up his hands. "Kidding! I'm kidding." He jabbed a thumb in Phantom's direction. "I'll just possess the new guy."

"What?" Danny chuckled nervously. "I'm a ghost too, dude. That won't even work."

Boston shrugged. "Won't know until I try. Now stay still." Boston tried to fly into Phantom's body, but Phantom dodged out of the way. He groaned. "What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me?! You're trying to possess me!" Phantom floated behind Superman. "Look, Superman's right here! And he already gave you the okay, so why don't you just possess him?"

Boston pinched the bridge of his nose. "Kid, listen, John's shown me a few of your fights and I know you know what possessing someone is like—"

"Yeah, but I keep telling you, you can't possess me."

"You won't even let me try!"

"Because all that's gonna happen is you flying into me at full speed, which I would prefer to avoid."

"Deadman," Batman said, staring in the same general direction as Phantom. "Possess either Superman or Constantine. Leave Phantom alone."

Boston grumbled and floated back a bit, preparing to possess Superman when he caught Phantom sticking his tongue out at him.

"Oh, you little brat."

Boston flew towards Superman, but angled himself just enough to fly past him and into Phantom instead.

The familiar feel of possessing another body rushed through him as he became familiarized with Phantom's senses. There was something sort of lifelike in Phantom's body. It was strange, but this was his first time possessing a ghost.

He opened his eyes and stared at the other three heroes. "I have a craving for a food I can't identify."

"Deadman,"—Batman stalked towards him, practically growling at Boston—"you shouldn't have done that without Phantom's consent. You have no idea what might've happened to you or him if—"

Batman froze. Superman was staring wide eyed and John dropped his cigarette, his mouth open in shock.

"What?" Boston asked. He looked down at himself and noticed a shirt and jeans where a hazmat suit should've been. He was also breathing. "What the fuck."

#DPxDC #dp dc crossover #deadman #boston brand #nemo the writing ho #nemotime #lil thing that popped into my brain #danny has some weird ass food cravings; dont ask me what they are i havent figured them out yet lol #are danny and boston stuck like that? do boston and danny fight for control of danny's body?#does boston get immediately yeeted out of danny's body after this moment?#all great questions that i have absolutely no answer for #OH #maybe they assume that boston accidentally brought danny back to life #and the league do their best to keep danny away from the fighting and try to give him a normal life #danny values his secret identity too much to actually tell them the truth-#...wait #why does this sound... familiar #oh lmao im just rewriting the plot of Resurrected? by Playedcrowd5610 #ITS A GOOD PLOT THO #funny as hell #i love that fic #what was i saying #oh yes #deadman gets yelled at by everyone of course #danny's watching in his headspace with a bucket of metaphorical popcorn #Danny: man sucks to be him *munches loudly*

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taaalia · 1 year

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the day the amount of dndads ao3 fanfics containing the tag yeet bigly goes from 17 to 18 is the day i lay down and cry of utter joy

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #yeet bigly #i love him so much i cannot be to pnly person who feels this attached ro him #PLEASE U GUYS #jUST HEAR ME OUT #hes actually so interesting because hes like cool as hell and an awesome comic relief side character but hes also struggling a lot (1/23)#im just kidding #no im not #i could genuinely talk about him that much #AND KILLA #my kids you guys #killa demall #I LOVE HER SO MUCH TOO OH MY GOD #BUT back to it anyways anthony made yeet bigly say (biggest mistske of hid life obviously) that smoking and vaping quote unquoute (2/23)#helps take of the edge which confirms that HE IS STRUGGLING with like his mom and money and probs the whole killing arena thing #AND HIM ABD KILLA CLAIMING THEYRE NOT JUST PLAYERS THEYRE WINNERS AND THEN SAYING THEYVW NEVER WON #im so emotional about them #this fixation has lasted months someone rescue me please my brain needs to rest #..if u read all that then uh yay ur cool anf im slightly embarrassed

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ovipositer · 1 year

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never ask a man his salary a woman her age or a discord mod what age he and his girlfriend were when they first started “talking”

#every once in a while it occurs to me out of the blue #that he probably feels so full of himself #since I just didn’t respond to his harassment #and I abandoned this blog #he loves having the last word #he thinks he ruined my life and that I’m miserable and alone now #and it makes me feel guilty that I didn’t lay into him more #I do plan to vent my frustrations at some point #but I will do it in my leisure in my own time #I’m not an ugly jobless discord mod who makes my full-time working gf clean up five cats’ litter boxes and fix my food for me etc etc ^_^#I guess I don’t have as much time as you do to dedicate to bothering others! ^_^#not that posting on my own personal blog— that quite frankly you wouldn’t be reading if you weren’t obsessed w me— is bothering anyone! ^_^#also I am not in the habit of bickering with every single person I ever meet #I prefer to focus my attention on the people and things that give me joy #if there’s anything I’ve learned from this it’s to yeet toxic people out of my life immediately. no second chances. I have no regrets.#my standards actually were never too high. plenty of ppl can meet them. I’m not the only person like me in the world. go figure.#it’s actually not normal to be as sick and incapable of getting along w others as you and the rest of your ‘community’#still. I would like to speak on what happened because I regret that I held my tongue for those two years.#I don’t think it’s healthy to bottle up all of your negativity.#but I’ve realized now it may literally be years before I will have half the mind to think back on that time in my life and talk abt it #so Idk. I just wanted to say.#I genuinely hope he kills himself #I do not say that lightly #I am not someone who throws that phrase around like it’s nothing.#I genuinely mean it with every inch of my heart. he deserves to die horribly.#I just find solace in the fact that he is so miserable. not because he wants for anything material.#he is spoiled and lazy. but still he does not enjoy his life. how could he? all he does is badger ppl online all day.#it just blows my mind that someone that looks like THAT wld talk to me that way 🤣 you’d think being the ultimate loser wld humble him a bit #just wanted 2 get that out of the way #oviposting

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deus-ex-mona · 2 years

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this is so sad, kohachi play kimi no kioku—

#at this point i’m half expecting rio to become a life insurance salesman as a fulltime job—#rio’s thoughts about the inevitability of death just reminded me of p3 lmaoooo #it is suiyoubi my dudes #fedora throttle4 #[unhinged persona ramblings coming up pls stand by—]#aaaa persona 3/4/5 for switch hype!!!!!!!#i can’t wait to get my invincible alice back in p4g. null physical + megidolaon + 99 stats on everything…#rip to my initial invincible alice </3 the poor save data was yeeted after my ps vita noped out on me </3 #i hope they change the social links for the dude route of p3 though. idw to date all the ladies at once. like ewwww. and no kenji slink pls #i want dude protag/junpei bro times plssss. bro times with junpei as the fem protag were great so dude protag bro times too plssss #and i hope they include the answer for whatever reason!! they excluded that from the og p3p so pls include it in the remaster👀👀👀#and proper cutscenes!!!! still images don’t hit the same in p3p (but the shinji scene was sadder in text tbh… that’s just my opinion though)#p4g is already perfect as-is. unless they wanna add in a yosuke romance in which… 👀👀👀👀pls👀👀??? c’mon atlus you already have the voiced lines #👀👀👀pls lemme romance yosuke👀👀👀👀 souyo best otp👀👀👀 i used a guide to ‘marry’ them in pq and everything👀👀👀#can’t say anything about p5r bc i haven’t played the base game (no ps4 rip) but aaaaa i’m excited to finally play it!!!!! dual audio pls👀👀👀#actually dual audio for everything pls👀👀👀👀👀 i wanna use komaeda-voice amada ken!! and togami-voice p3 dude protag!!! and fukujun joker!!!#aaaaaaaaaaaaa persona is such a good series man… i’d replay tms to cope but it’s with my club’s public enemy no.1 so i can’t get it back ಥ‿ಥ #oh heck this got out of hand real fast… if you actually read all of this…👀👀👀hi👀👀👀 and i’m sorry

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emmetrain · 2 years

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Jirachi wordlessly hands him a pokeball. It has a Missingno inside! That's what he said, right? Something about Missingno? He looked pretty sad despite the smile, so maybe this would help! -mythemons

When Emmet was handed the pokeball, his heart raced and a weight, older than time itself, crushed his chest. What did it mean if he had found a pokeball while he was searching for his brother?

He knew the legends. He knew the horror stories surrounding the ghost pokemon that were formerly humans well. Against his will, of course, as his dear brother had been a huge horror enthusiast, who would drag the poor younger twin into their blanket fort to read yet another promised 'happy' story, but the promises would always be false.

As the light slowly escaped the pokeball, Emmet could only stare and think what he could have done differently. If his tracks led him to find a pokeball instead of his brother safe and sound, it could only mean he failed him. He failed his brother. He failed to get him back home safely.

But, as the light dissipated, it left a... jumbled mess in the air. Nope. It was not Ingo.

"Well, I guess trying to make sense of things I don't understand doesn't really change anything," Emmet said as he summoned the weird pokemon back into the pokeball.

Emmet turned to look at Jirachi with an exhausted but grateful smile. "You gave it to me to show Ingo was still out there, somewhere, didn't you? I should continue on my path to reveal the truth. If he is alive, I still have chance to find him! I am Emmet! I like winning more than anything else! I will find him!

"Thank you for showing this to me." Emmet knew the pokeball was given to him, but nope, he was not dealing with whatever that was in it. He tossed it back to Jirachi and took his leave rather hurriedly.

#mythemons #ic #//ok to reblog #//omg pls someone stop me whenever i get the urge to draw a comic #//i am so happy I got the chance to draw the younger twins tho :'''D I adore them #((Emmet: *yeets missingno back to jirachi and runs for his dear life*#//THANK YOU FOR THE ASK :'''D

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revenantghost · 2 years

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Oh no... I got overly ambitious about creating for a fandom that lit a fire under my butt and burnt out again, RIP

#I thought posting for a popular ship for a popular fandom #It would get... idk any traction #BUT UHHHHH #I have to remind myself that no one's interested in poetry #Or my poetry at least #I got too ambitious and yeeted myself into the sun thinking I might get like 10 kudos on something when most fics in #the fandom get 100 minimum #(at least the chapters/oneshots I see linked on the Tumble)#I made myself depressed because I believed in the enthusiasm #BACK TO CREATING ONLY FOR NICHE LITTLE GENRES #So I can't be disappointed when no one reads them lmao #The woes of previously having been popular before life burnt everything down to ashes #And before a stupid niche genre became the only thing you can write in #Yadda yadda

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hauntingblue · 29 days

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Kaido lore?!

#THE GIRL SANJI HIT HAS A RAT???#if sanji kills the rat he is not going back... this poor woman tho....#sanji didn't really get to dight his siblings so now he is kinda doing it lmao #sanji didn't hit her?? queen did??? omg. sanji don't lose hope.... but i want you to kinda do and succumb to the germa ajskdha #nvm he figured things out.... got the rat and everything... sanji talking to himself with the cage on... yeah..... omg zeff and luffy <3 #omg queen got yeeted.... the rat.....#talking tag #watching one piece #episode 1061 #king asking zoro if he is trying to be a king implies now that as sanji beat queen he is one. now when zoro beats king???. exactly.#omg... zoro dont kill king he is too pretty to die.... zoro.... i was wondering where all the nephilim fanart came from akdjsk #this is so slay... zoro with the king of hell enma fighting an angel.....#kaido with shackles in punk hazard???? is it bc he is an 'ogre'????#wtf.... zoro is seeing a biblically accurate angel akdjsns WAIT. did king say he isnt biologically capable of besting him.#and zoro said he doesnt like those types of excuses. because he is equaling that to what kuina said about being a woman.#please someone tell me this isnt the resolution to that. please. that is so stupid.#also wtf is zoro gonna do against that. thank god he learnt how to cut fire damn. thanks kinemon. hope izo and usopp find you soon #the music. the visuals. slay. oh :( goodbye my angel..... him thinking kaido is joyboy??? you've got it very twisted. it's kinda tragic #how his faith is misplaced and ends up defending evil and dying for it..... :(#the z on the end screen akdhaka.... now o want kaido lore. why was he im punk hazard. i mean ti be experimented on but there's gotta be more #you know whats funny. robin becoming a devil for luffy. zoro becomong king of hell for luffy. sanji just doesn't turn evil :) AHDHAJAJ #which actually could be the most dangerous maybe bc goodbye emotions xd even if the king of hell and a demon could end him #inch resting. i want more about lunarians?? and kaido now. also MORE about zoro and kuina... please that can't be it....#did i explain here how at least in the op spanish speaking fandom there is a gag that zoro is racist?? it started with that woman from bw #he just now killed a survivor of a nearly extinct (or extinct) race xd. you can appreciate why the gag exists #episode 1063 #usopp looking for kinemon and the scene hes gonna walk into.... izo please get here soon....#usopp calling them suicidal samurais ajdhak he will cling to life sobbing and full of snot!!! EXACTLY!!! this is actually so helpful.....#like they really are suicidal samurais... committing seppuku for anything.... izo thank god. he's gonna get the kun treatment from now on #episode 1062

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evilminji · 8 months

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Okay... so it COULD be because, as a writer, I'm an ASSHOLE to my Characters...

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT'D BE FUNNY?

Danny, innocent, gets YEETED into DC. As ya do. And he's a bit messed up. But! He's a Baby Ancient in the making. Gonna be master of Spaaaaaace(~~~☆!) one day. Very exciting, only slightly relevant.

See, Ectoplasm? Dumb. That's why we need Cores and Brains etc. Never let Ectoplasm decide things. It WILL chose the "technically correct but now the buildings on fire" option EVERY SINGLE TIME. And you are running out of fire extinguishers.

Because it is dumb.

Very, VERY No Brain, Just Goo, Dumb.

And THIS Goo has a life to save. A Halfa too maintain in Peak Performance(tm). Because THIS Goo is VERY smart Goo(according only to itself) and TOTALLY knows what it's doing! Damaged meat bits? Oh that's EASY! You just FIX that! Replace with meat bits! See? It's BRILLIANT Goo. 10 out of 10 stars, me!

Small problem.

The instructions have been damaged.

PANIC.

Wait! No! We got this! We are Very Smart Goo(tm). And have Space Powers. This is FINE. We'll... we'll just FIX the instructions! Hand me a hammer! If we smash enough bits together, it'll sort? Of look right? Close ENOUGH? Yeeeeeah. We're GENIUS Goo~

Use THAT!

But where did they GET their ill begotten DNA? Well OBVIOUSLY the place all the OTHER DNA they had was stored, DUH? Keep up, says the Goo with literally no braincells making horrifying choices for an unconscious man. It's Earth.

As in... the planet.

It's not even HIS planet. It's AN Earth. A Planet CALLED "Earth" that dwells in the DC universe, not his, and is covered with ZERO(0) Fentons but plenty of superhumans and aliens. THAT planet.

The Goo grabbed the Very BESTEST Meat Instructions it could FIND! The Goo is also a collective and did not AGREE on what the "Best" WAS. But it's... okay, no, I can't lie to you, it is NOT fine.

But thankfully it IS stable.

Because Ectoplasm may be dumb and indiscriminate as super-bacteria with a flamethrower, but it is a MASTER at the jigsaw of Life. It can reanimate ANYTHING.

Including the now SINGLE MOST CHIMERAD MAN you've ever SEEN. Who is he related too? YES. His left knee is Kryptonian, the fingers on his right hand are Tameranian, his skin tone has shifted to the most ambiguously multi-ethnic tone imaginable (think that future of humanity mock up, where they combine every ethnicity on the premise that inter-racial marriage will becoming increasingly common up to the point where we all just kinda look averaged out thanks to the ease of travel) because it's trying to do all of them at once and none of them are willing to back down, because all of them got the instructions "Be Skin". He might have Slade Wilson's cheek bones and hair.

Danny wakes up and basicly is half Ectoplasmic Goo, half the extended Super Community.

AND CANT GET BACK HOME TO FIX IT.

Because of course this IS fixable. It's just medical shape-shifting. But without HIS template, undamaged. His body is REFUSING to change from what is OBVIOUSLY the CORRECT form. And he keeps getting clocked as "probably related to me".

With the Fenton Luck kicking in? The parts of him people manage to swab and/or get DNA from? Keep MATCHING them. Danny doesn't know WHO is behind this but-! *spots a giggle child with a cat* !!!!!!

You.

Klarion you little SHIT!

So now he's wearing a face that's BARELY his, running from very determined superhumans who want to parent him, trying to steal enough technology to build a portal. AND vowing to kick the witch boy's ASS.

This ISNT FUNNY, KLARION.

His body is Frankenstein's FEVER DREAM! Every time he gets hurt, it tries to "FIX" itself! He lost a chunk of his should back there and HIS ENTIRE BODY CHANGED SKIN TONES. He's pretty sure if he SITS funny, his teeth might fall out and regrow POINTY! He's handing you over to WALKER you horrible little gremlin child!

Just? Take the "Danny is related to X" and "Danny is sick" and turn them uuuuup. Make EVERYBODY concerned except Danny. This is just another fucked up adventure in a long string of fucked up adventures. Give him his DNA back. If he has to suffer the Fenton Luck then he should AT LEAST get to keep the Fenton "built like a tank"!

*gets hit again*

*is GREEN now for some reason* The fuck?

Garfield, aka Beast Boy: I HAVE A CLONE SON!?

Danny: Zone DAMN IT not another one!

@ailithnight @hdgnj @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

#tw body horror #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #never let the Goo drive #chimera au #Danny looks A BIT like everyone #just enough to be suspicious #chaos happens and klarion laughs

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blue-mood-blue · 1 month

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I have been thinking about the blackening (as one does)…

…and it’s so interesting to me, the penalty Shen Qingqiu is faced with should he not decide to yeet his disciple into hell.

Account termination. Instant death. Sent directly home to his already-long-dead body, and that’s it for the villain of the piece who outright refuses his villainy. The protagonist needs a blackening for the story to continue, and Shen Qingqiu is going to provide it or get written out of the narrative. Either way, Luo Binghe is going to lose him. Either way, this is a turning point.

I wouldn’t claim that this is the intent of the penalty, but it fascinates me that the System has, potentially, backed the plotline into a corner - because Binghe still stands to be blackened even if Shen Qingqiu took the other choice.

Think about what that would look like, to him. He’s at the Immortal Alliance Conference, and everything is going wrong. He’s been outed as a demon, and not just a demon - the top tier of demon, as bad as it gets from the perspective of a righteous cultivator. His beloved teacher, the person who has been kindest to him and opened his home and heart to him, is standing there with his sword in hand, deciding what he’s going to do about what must look, to him, like a horrific betrayal. Binghe is apologizing. Binghe is begging for his life.

Shen Qingqiu hears him. Maybe it shows on his face, or in his voice, that he already knew; maybe there’s no hint at all, but Shen Qingqiu is suddenly talking quickly with an abrupt sense of urgency that Luo Binghe is having a hard time keeping up with. Telling him he’ll be wonderful - telling him he’s the best. Telling him the world will be his, with emotions cracking through that aloof mask that Binghe has never seen on Shizun’s face before, and it’s terrifying for reasons that Binghe cannot identify.

(He will, later. When he has time to think, he’ll realize it sounded like a goodbye.)

And then Shen Qingqiu is bleeding. And then Shen Qingqiu is on the ground. And then Shen Qingqiu is dead. There’s no countdown for Binghe - there’s no System, there’s no warning, there’s no answers.

Luo Binghe is a heavenly demon in the middle of a conference sabotaged by demons. Luo Binghe is alone. His fellow competing disciples are scattered, some dead or injured. The Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak, the second in command of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, maybe the only person he loved and who loved him back, is dead at his feet. No one will believe him if he says it isn’t his fault.

(He can’t believe it isn’t his fault.)

What choice does he have but to run? The last heavenly demon the cultivation world went up against has been sealed under a mountain for years, and one of the people responsible for that is probably looking for Shen Qingqiu already. They’ll be looking for him, too. There isn’t anywhere to hide; there isn’t any time to mourn.

There isn’t even enough time to ask why. Why again.

There is no closure waiting for him, because there is nothing to explain what happened. It just is.

It would be a different kind of blackening, certainly - less intense, probably, less of a warping, desperate thing. But how many times can one person have all the love and safety in their world torn out from under them before it starts to show? Before they just don’t allow things like love and safety to touch them, because that’s the better option?

Interesting to consider that, simply by offering the choices it did, the System rigged the story to guarantee that Luo Binghe would end up in hell (deliberate or not).

Interesting to consider that, even if Shen Qingqiu made what might have seemed like a kinder choice, there was every chance it wouldn’t have been.

#scum villian self saving system #svsss #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #I have been thinking about Alternative Blackening Methods #(for reasons)#(don’t worry about it)#and while I don’t think it would be on the same level as the endless abyss #I think suddenly losing his Shizun would fuck Binghe up #especially like that with no explanation right in front of him??#like #he is not gonna be okay #and then he’s stuck in a realm filled to the BRIM with cultivators after his blood #maybe it’s not THE blackening but it is A blackening #and it gives me feelings #because even if sqq was willing to make that sacrifice I’m not convinced that would have… helped Binghe #(also au where sqq somehow has the mushroom body ready to go before the conference)#(and Binghe unexpectedly encounters his Shizun in the wild)#(and they run away together in the most ill-conceived escape plan known to man)

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distance-does-not-matter · 1 year

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sitting in the garden wondering what comes next

only by leehi / visible light by alexander harding / spring by leon wyczółkowski / the predatory wasp of the palisades is out to get us! by sufjan stevens / thoughtful reader by franz dvorak / 11:23 a.m. by alexander harding / oxygen by mary oliver / the four loves by c.s. lewis / darling by leehi / oda with lamp by christian krohg / try again by jaehyun, d.ear / reading by lamplight (twilight: interior) by george clausen / sophie by the altogether / dusk by charlotte ager (@ charlotteagerillustration) / the ink dark moon: love poems by ono no komachi and izumi shikibu, women of the ancient court of japan / moonlight stroll by edward henry potthast / only by leehi

#my web weaves #web weaving #space opera #unnamed couple #they may not have names yet but they've got vibes ok. and a burgeoning little story line #penni yeets her thoughts into the void #i love them very much ok #that moment when ur now-ex sweetheart/fiance sucks so much ur friend whose name u don't know #offers to marry u in front of the whole court to save ur honor #and u agree #bc. well u don't quite know why #LOOK i didn't say they were original i am taking BLATANT inspiration from the few cdramas i have seen (love like the galaxy more like free #inspiration for me)#that moment when u marry ur friend and what now? you have sworn at the altar to go thru life with him. u sit next to him in the garden.#what do u say? (one day u will say that u love him and he will say it back)

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writeforfandoms · 5 months

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Who Wants To Live Forever

Find my Ghost masterlist

It doesn't matter how many lives you've lived, you always find your way back to him.

The reincarnation au nobody asked for and my plot bunnies yeeted at me anyway! I have a lot of thoughts about this one that didn't make it into the fic. Like. A Lot.

Warnings: Swearing, past violence, blood, injury mention, canon typical violence, idiots in love, this is just for fun, I wrote this for me but you can read it too.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Word count: 2.9k

The dreams started when you were small. Your parents at first attributed them to an overactive imagination and too much television.

But as you got older and the dreams didn't go away, you wondered. Your parents got squirrelly about them, started muttering about things like psychiatrists and not normal and worried.

So you stopped mentioning them. Pretended you didn't dream at all most nights.

Reality couldn't be farther from the truth.

You dreamed. Every single night. In some you were part of a village, living a harsh life by the sea. The men would go off to hunt and raid, and the women stayed behind to mind the village and raise the children. Those dreams always left you cold. Even in those dreams, though, dream-you noticed the beauty, the way sunlight glinted off snow, the magical lights in the sky, the blue of the sky after a storm.

Some nights you dreamed of being a nurse, tending wounded soldiers in tents and buildings. Those dreams were always full of screaming and crying and horrors. Men wheezing, coughing up blood. Limbs shattered and mangled beyond repair. A stench like you couldn't describe. But there were little moments, moments of kindness. Holding a man's hand to comfort him through his last breaths. The way the sunrise broke through some of the haze of pain surrounding those places. The way a doctor or fellow nurse would sometimes thank you, buy you a drink, share scant meals with you.

Sometimes you were a school teacher in a rural village, gently scolding children and keeping watch as they frollicked at break times. Those dreams were full of small joys. A flower one of your students brought you, bashful smile blooming into a grin at your thanks. Sunsets from the comfort of home. Warm meals at the table, often shared. With him.

He was a constant presence. Through all of your dreams, all of those times, he was always to be found. He didn't always look the same - skin tone changed, hair color changed. But you always knew him by those brown eyes.

Sometimes the two of you married. Sometimes he was married before you met him. Sometimes you were married first. But you always, always found each other. In every time. In every life.

By the time you were out of school, you had notebooks dedicated to your dreams, to the times, to the man. You kept them hidden away, for your eyes only. Just as a way to help you keep everything straight.

As more time passed, you became more and more sure that these were glimpses into the past. Your past. Past lives, you'd guess. From the way the dreams felt… it always felt like you. No matter how many times you put pen to paper, you could never accurately describe why.

But you knew. They were all you.

And they were all him.

Which made you wonder… when would you find him in this life? You'd found him in almost all of the others. It seemed reasonable that you'd find him again.

(Nevermind that you had no name, no description, no way of knowing what he'd look like or where he'd be.)

Knowing that he was out there somewhere made it easy to bury yourself in work. Oh, sure, you had friends. People who knew you. You were well-liked at work, known to get things done.

But you didn't date. You didn't look for people who weren't him.

Everyone else, you knew, would pale in comparison.

All the lives accumulated in your head did make it hard to relate. It was easier, sometimes, to sort of… float through life. You knew what was expected of you. You'd known people from every walk of life, just about. You knew a lot about people, could do well in social situations without working at it.

But it did make for a rather lonely life.

You started dreaming of him more often. Of the times the two of you lived together. Of the long talks the two of you had. Of the walks, along the sea, along a grass-lined lane, along a lake. Of the times he was just out of reach, your eyes meeting again and again through crowds and dinners and company.

Of the time he died in your arms, blood staining the both of you.

You were tired when you got on the train. This was just a little holiday to a new place.

Or. Well. You hadn't been here in this lifetime, at least.

It was busier than you remembered the area being, more built up. Your lips twitched - that's what happened over time, after all.

Nothing stayed the same for long.

You didn't pay any mind to the people around you as you walked, taking your time. You didn't mind walking to your hotel from the train station. Gave you a better chance to look around and plan where you wanted to go later.

Your eyes met brown through a coffee shop window.

You froze. You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes.

He blinked, just once. You couldn't look away.

The noise of the coffee shop finally registered when you stopped in front of his table, the chinking of mugs and flatware, the hiss of the machines, the babble of unimportant voices.

“Hi.” You were a little surprised at your own voice, quiet and a little awed.

He eyed you, black face mask obscuring most of his expression. For a moment your heart plummeted. Maybe he didn't recognize you? Maybe… he didn't remember?

Then his lips twitched.

“Took you long enough.”

“Took me long enough?” You tried for outrage but probably fell short, humor and elation buoying your heart. “And what about you, hmm?”

“Been busy.” He nodded to the seat across from him, and you could just see the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile.

“Oh, busy. Yes, how silly of me to not think of that.” You dropped into the seat, your bag landing at your feet a little harder than was probably advisable.

“Holiday?” His gaze dropped briefly to the table, to where your bag was now hidden.

“Yes.” Some of your elation faded at the dose of reality. “You?”

He paused, holding your gaze. “On leave.”

“Ah.” You smiled a little, sliding one open hand across the table. “Going well this time, then?”

He didn't say anything for a long moment, staring down at your open hand. His fingers twitched. “Not particularly.”

Your heart plummeted. “Oh.”

“S'fine.” He shook his head once, short and sharp. “You want anything? Tea, coffee?”

“Coffee is fine.” You started to stand but he waved you back into your seat.

“Wait here.”

You huffed out a breath and watched him go, broad shoulders easy to track up to the register. You finally had the attention to note other details about him. He was dressed casually, all in black, with his hood pulled up. You'd caught blonde hair under his hood.

Taller than you could remember him being. Broad shoulders.

It was just… so good to see him again. To see him now. With your own eyes, in this life.

It would be nice to make more memories, for next time.

The clink of a mug being set in front of you brought you out of your own head. You blinked at the mug and then at him as he sat across from you again.

“How long are you here?” He folded his hands in front of him, gaze fixed on you.

You shrugged. “I had only planned for a few days,” you admitted. “But I can make it longer.”

He grunted once, thumb tapping against the side of his hand as he considered something. Then he nodded once. “Meet me here tomorrow,” he said, abruptly moving to grab a pen and a napkin. “1200.”

You blinked once. “Tomorrow?” You couldn't quite keep the disappointment from your voice at that.

“Got some things to take care of before then,” he said, barely glancing up at you as he finished writing on the napkin. “Got some people for you to meet, too. If you want to know me better this time ‘round.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. He'd married already. That was the only thing you could think of. He was already married and you were too late. “I see.”

“No. You don't.” He pushed the napkin to you, tapping it twice with one large finger. “Here. Tomorrow.”

“1200,” you repeated dutifully, mustering up a wan smile. “Yes. I remember.”

“Good.” He pushed back to his feet abruptly, and you startled a little. He was just so tall! “If you don't show, I'll assume you don't want to meet again.” The words were flat, even, but his eyes… his eyes hid pain.

You nodded, too startled for words by all of this. In a moment he was gone, striding out of the coffee shop and away from you.

Every fiber of you longed to go after him, to beg him for answers.

Instead, you sat and sipped your coffee with trembling hands, staring at the napkin until the blocky letters were burned into your memory.

The walk to your hotel was a bit of a blur. You barely paid attention to the social interaction, though you must have done well enough.

You ended up sitting on the bed, bag on the floor, staring at your hands.

He'd been so close. So close.

But he hadn't taken your offer. He hadn't touched you.

You thought you might finally be going a little insane. Was this what insanity felt like? Was this some kind of fever dream? Had you finally lost all sense of reality?

But no. You had the napkin in your pocket still. You'd seen him. You hadn't learned his name this time around, hadn't learned much of anything really, except that he had people he wanted you to meet.

People. He'd said people for you to meet.

The words finally sank fully into your brain, and you weren't sure whether to laugh or scream. People. People to meet. As in more than one person.

As in he was not only married but had a family…

…or something else entirely. Something new.

Even after so many lives, the world still had a way of surprising you. A lesson hard learned over time.

You forced yourself to breathe through the weight of history on your shoulders, staring back at all the lives where things had gone wrong.

And then you forced yourself to find some dinner, shower, and read for a while before bed.

Not that you slept very well. Not with anticipation and dread wreaking havoc on your heart.

You arrived at the meeting spot ten minutes early, a little cafe on a square with a fountain in the middle. You stood outside, hands in your pockets, unsure what to expect.

“You’re early.”

You swallowed once, heart thudding hard against your ribs as you turned to look at him. “Didn’t want to be late,” you quipped, only to falter.

He wasn’t alone today.

Three other men stood with him, all of them looking at you. You lifted your chin a little, meeting the gaze of the closest man. You had just enough time to note how blue his eyes were before the memories slammed into you.

A quiet life working the land, out beyond the edge of the “civilized” world, a husband with a rare but kind smile, eyes so blue you could drown in them. Rare trips to the nearest town gave you glimpses of your brown-eyed man, but no more than that. Cold winters and muddy springs and indomitable shoulders to lean on through it all.

And a slightly less quiet life of some wealth, with a husband whose work often took him from home. But you’d had friends that time, your own societal duties. Dances. Events. Hosting. That life had not been devoid of its fun and beauty.

“Oh.” You blinked at him, eyes wide.

His lips twitched under his facial hair (muttonchops - unusual choice for this day and age) and he held out a hand to you. “Captain John Price.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand, holding his gaze for a moment longer. If he was like the him you’d known, he was a good man. Time would tell if and how he had changed. “I married you before.”

He grinned for a moment, so close to the man you’d known that your heart ached. “Twice, but don’t hold it against me,” he joked before he stepped aside.

The next man to step up also had blue eyes and a big smile. You knew him immediately - you’d seen him before, too. A few times in the shadow of your brown-eyed love, once or twice on his own. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been standing over the bed of one of his men, half-covered in blood and muck.

There had been nothing you could do, then.

Now you smiled. “Good to see you again.”

“Ye look better this time.” He chucked you gently under the chin with two knuckles, grinning. “John MacTavish, call me Soap.”

“Soap?” You raised one extremely unimpressed eyebrow.

He laughed. “A story for another time,” he promised, winking at you before he stepped back.

The last man looked at you, nerves in the pinch of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Darker skin and a ballcap met your quick perusal.

You only had to meet his gaze for a moment before you threw yourself at him, hugging him as hard as you could, breath stuttering in your chest.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, arms immediately settling around you, one hand cupping the back of your head. “It’s alright, we’re fine.”

“You left,” you grumbled, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again.”

“Promise,” he muttered, voice low, just between the two of you. “I won’t.”

You sniffled, just once, before you pulled back to look at him. “I missed you,” you admitted before gently whapping his arm. “And if you disappear on me again I’ll hunt you down next life.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grinned, not even a little abashed.

“So, what ridiculous nickname have you gotten this time?” You smiled, finally taking a half-step back.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Gaz. Kyle, this time ‘round.”

“Gaz.” You tested it out slowly before shrugging. “Not the worst.”

“Oh? And what would be?” Soap snuck up next to you, looking eager for mischief.

“Story for another time,” you shot back at him with a smile. You finally turned your gaze to him again, to your brown-eyed man. The only one who hadn’t given you his name yet.

“Simon,” he finally said, as if he’d read your mind.

“Simon.” You smiled. “How did you…?” You made a helpless motion between the three men.

“Price,” Simon answered with a little shrug. “Found all of us.”

“Came across ‘em,” Price said, arms crossed over his chest. “Knew I had to keep ‘em close.”

You nodded, a little ache in your heart. “It’s a good thing you did.” But your gaze didn’t stray from Simon, too busy basking in the sight of him, here and whole in front of you.

“He’s no’ married yet,” Soap said in a stage whisper. When you glanced at him, he was grinning. “Unattached. Available. Free to a good home.”

“MacTavish,” Simon growled, brows twitching in annoyance.

But you? You grinned. “Well, that’s good, because it’s your turn this time,” you teased, chin tipping up and to one side.

Simon’s gaze snapped back to you, eyes a little wide. “What?”

“I asked you last time,” you said patiently, trying hard to not grin. “Almost kissed you in front of your fiance, too.”

“Almost,” he agreed, eyes warm as his gaze swept the length of your body.

“I spotted you yesterday, too,” you pointed out, completely reasonably and not at all like a little gremlin. (You liked that word a lot and had incorporated it as much as you could once you’d caught airmen using it during World War II.)

“So, ‘s my turn?” He took one step closer to you.

“Mmhm.” You bit the inside of your lip hard to keep your grin to yourself.

His eyes narrowed at you, which was the only warning you had before he pulled down his face mask and kissed you. Vaguely, you heard Soap cheering and Price grumbling. But everything fell to the back of your mind.

Everything that wasn’t Simon.

A little piece of your heart clicked into place.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were a little out of breath, holding each other tight. His lips twitched in a tiny smile and you all but beamed in response.

And then yipped when someone yanked you away from Simon.

“Best friend dibs,” Kyle announced, already starting to walk you away. “Mine for now, I’ll give her back in a day or two.”

You cackled at the look on Simon’s face, like he was torn between murder and laughing along with the joke.

“There’s no rush,” you couldn’t help but tease. “We’ve got this entire life, now.”

Simon met your gaze again even as his long strides caught him up with you and Kyle. His mask was back in place now but his eyes were warm, smiling at you, even as his hand twined with yours.

Finally.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #f!reader

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frannyzooey · 2 months

Text

On The Green: 1

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Mature (violence, slight gore, killing - typical Ezra 😌 — will be explicit in later chapters)

Summary: Two strangers meet.

a/n: New series alert! Man alive first chapters are hard, and so I am going to yeet this into the universe before looking at it anymore. I owe everything to @bageldaddy for educating me hardcore and for being so extremely kind and thorough, and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for her Ezra eyes and inspiration and to @familyvideostevie for her support and enthusiasm and notes. It took a VILLAGE to get through this one. Enjoy meeting our stranger. :)

You come to surrounded by unnatural stillness.

An absence felt in the air surrounding you, there is something about it that tugs at the foggy corners of your brain, beckoning you closer to the surface. You try to listen for anything beyond the ringing in your ears, and there is…something.

A beeping sound emerging through the fog, its incessant chirping grows clearer. You blink slowly, your limbs made of lead when you try to turn your head. Instead of trying to investigate, you let yourself slip slowly back into the lush darkness, closing your eyes.

But the strangeness of the silence tugs at you, and the beeping gets louder.

Splices of memory come through in sharp flashes:

The deep, bone-shaking tremble of turbulence.

The grating sound of tearing metal.

Beeping - so much fucking beeping, every sensor in the transport pod going off - and the whole cabin jerking to the left, your body weight pushing against the fabric restraints, your dad’s voice raw with hoarseness as he screams orders at you and –

Oh shit. Your dad.

Your eyes pop open, and you sit up - or rather, you try to, but every muscle resists. Battered and bruised, you fumble at your harness with clumsy, shaking fingers. Looking up as it finally clicks open, you’re about to leap from the chair when you freeze.

He’s there next to you, unmoving.

Dead.

“Dad?” you whisper.

You can see without even checking for a pulse that he’s gone. That’s the feeling that pulled you awake, the vibration of life gone from the air. The stillness weighs heavy in the small space, and the beeping gets shriller somehow, more noticeable in the utter silence.

The pod shrinks to a claustrophobic dome, and your breathing starts to come fast. Harsh, rapid exhales out of your open mouth and then you’re vomiting, right onto the floor. A cold sweat breaks out under your thermals, and you swallow hard against more bile that threatens to come up.

There is blood splattered on the dash, pooled around the buttons. A deep gash gouged across his temple, his left eye already swollen beyond recognition. You stare at the dark, pulpy wound that runs with blood and with a heave, lose the remaining contents of your stomach.

To have hit his head like that, he must have unbuckled and tried to fix something mid-crash, but why? Why the fuck would he do that? He knew better than that. You try to think about the sequence of events, but there is only a blur. A foggy, black spot in your memory, hazy images obscured by panic.

You remember pieces: watching Puggart Bench grow smaller as you ascended through the atmosphere. The vague details of your father’s latest scheme, along with promises that this would be your last job. The frustration you felt at those words – ones you’ve heard a million times.

You remember rolling your eyes and slipping on your headphones, and then scolding you for not paying attention after he jabbed you in the shoulder to take them off, and then…this. Somehow this. Guilt settles deep in your gut.

Keeping your dazed eyes glued to the floor, you ignore the blood and beeping and the dead fucking body. You crouch low in the safety of your chair, winding your grip around the harness strap as an anchor and you sit for a moment, trying to steady your breathing.

You sit.

And sit.

–

“Think she’s got anything left?”

The words spread condensation across the lower half of his visor, and Ezra listens for an answer he already knows isn’t coming.

He always asks anyway: a constant dangling bait, in hopes his partner will bite.

He hasn’t yet.

Ezra bends back over the rough dug pit, his fingers splaying through the loose dirt. Anything worth digging for is sealed in his case already, but he stalls, thinking.

He had watched the pod streak across the sky; the sight not unusual on the Green. Mercs and prospectors landed here every day to try their luck on the uninhabitable planet, but the speed in which the pod broke through the sky was unusual. Ezra could tell it was going too fast, even from the ground. His dark eyes had tracked the potential opportunity’s descent from behind the shield of his visor, and when the ground shuddered with the impact, he felt it through his gloves.

If it had landed safety, protocol would be to keep his distance – no use needlessly engaging in a potential threat. However, he doubted that was the case after watching it fall to the earth like a stone. If he had to guess, the occupants were probably dead, and therefore, in his favor.

His old pod flashes through his mind; nonfunctional and by now, probably stripped bare. If he doesn’t get there quickly to stake his claim, this one could fall to the same fate. It didn’t look sizeable by any stretch of the imagination, but he doesn’t need big.

He just needs enough to fit one man, and his case.

Ezra keeps his voice light and conversational.

“Did you feel that?”

He looks up at his silent partner, and is met with a blank stare. Or at least Ezra assumes it’s a blank stare, with the man’s visor blackened. He can’t see his face, and has never been able to. He’s had many offers of partnership while on the Green - some out of desperation, some through coercion, some forced upon him – and though his current partner is one of the latter, he had been secretly pleased at the sheer size of him. Brute strength a valuable commodity; the hulking man is more of a utility than a partner.

“Think it’s worthy of our time to investigate, or do you suppose there won’t be much left after a landing like that? If you want, I can go it alone?”

Met with more silence, both from his partner and from the unforgiving atmosphere of the Green, Ezra grimaces with annoyance when his partner starts to walk in the direction of the site without him.

“Hang on now. We approach together.” Climbing out of the pit, the loose soil slips under his boots. He scrambles up as quickly as he can, unwilling to see his chance at the remains slip through his dirt-crusted fingers.

“Now then,” he breathes heavily. “I think it would be befitting of us to use caution in our approach. The passengers may still be alive, and feeling panicked enough to pose a risk. I think –”

The hulk appears to listen to half of what Ezra says, and then turns abruptly mid-sentence, walking away.

Snatching up his case, Ezra switches off the comm link in his helmet and his expression falls from tactful to annoyance. His eyes narrow on the man’s broad back, his fingers itching for his thrower.

Grumbling, he follows.

“Fucking idiot.”

–

You’re going to have to touch it.

You wonder what it will feel like – stiff with rigor? Still pliant with traces of warmth? Heavy and impossible to move?

In all the ways you imagined you’d probably find your father dead, you somehow hadn’t thought about the logistics of actually moving his body. You imagined someone else would be the one responsible for it. Medical staff, most likely, who were used to the clammy skin and the stiff weight of death.

Not you.

Yet another thing you’ll have to do unwillingly for him.

The reason you’re on this godforsaken planet in the first place, he’d forced you along to help him pay a debt owed for those fucking drops he relied on to get through his days. Days that bled into nights spent waiting for him, more his parent than his child. A freefall into the nomad life since your mother died, you’d been trailing behind him for years - an afterthought, only remembered when he needed something.

A reluctant digging partner when he forced you to be, but also a navigator, a cook, a laundress, a caretaker. You were a lot of things to him, but never the one you wanted to be the most.

Never a daughter.

Your eyes slowly scan the disarray of the cabin, taking in the damage. For all the things he asked you to do, he had kept you in the dark when it came to any actual useful skills that might help you in this situation. Prospecting, digging, self-defense – anything that would have afforded you a glimpse at the possibility of independence – all of those were kept from your reach.

Never a mechanic either, unfortunately for you. How the fuck you’re going to fix this thing, you have no idea. The manuals for it were tucked away somewhere, but they required at least a basic understanding, and you have barely that.

You could stick with the harvesting plan he had vaguely outlined to you on the way here (assuming you could even find the gems, let alone dig them up), try to come back and fix your pod during the evenings (assuming you could even figure it out) and then try to catch the next slingback home (assuming you could even get off this planet).

Your other option would be…none. There are no other options.

The entire situation expands into something overwhelming, each step far outside your base of knowledge and your breathing starts to come fast again. You scold yourself, willing it to slow.

Panicking again isn’t going to help shit.

Wrestling with your emotions, you take a deep inhale and close your eyes, focusing on the first step.

Before anything else, you have to move him.

–

Through the edges of lush greenery, a pod.

Ezra tries to tamp down his excitement, kicking his senses into high alert to scan for whomever it belongs to - but there is nothing.

Fucking silence, the bane of his existence.

Though in this case, a good sign.

His own pod taken from him months ago in a standoff between himself and his former crew, this off-white piece of rubbish appears as treasure to him. It’s banged up for sure: one of the engines loose from the frame and the metal surrounding the bottom crumpled from hard impact. Unlikely that anyone survived the crash, anticipation thrums through him at the harvest in front of him.

Keeping his expression measured, he beckons his partner to approach with him, silently advising caution.

The idiot doesn’t though. Instead, he stomps forward and punches at the hatch button with force.

Ezra frowns deeply, anger slipping into his tone. “Hey,” he reprimands sharply.

The man pays Ezra no mind as the ramp slowly opens.

–

One hand extended towards your dad’s shoulder, it hangs hesitantly in the air for a moment. Inching forward, you try to summon every ounce of bravery that you have and just when it’s about to touch—

A loud thump sounds outside the pod, and your hand jerks back. Crouching low along the side of the pod, you crawl through the ship's scattered contents all over the floor and grab the thrower, trying to desperately wind a sufficient charge for a shot or two. The rummaging outside grows louder, and you crouch behind your chair, gripping the weapon in your sweat slick hands. Panic floods through your veins, the sharp stink of fear oozing from your pores as your body shivers with adrenaline, and you flex your hold on your weapon.

The door to the pod opens with a hiss, and two men emerge.

One slighter than the other, which isn’t saying much—anyone would be slight compared to the size of the second man. You aren’t even sure how he managed to get into the pod, between the width of his body and his height.

Rising swiftly, you point the weapon at them.

“Stop,” you force out, trying to mask the tremble in your voice.

The lithe man freezes, surprise showing on his face for a split second before disappearing. Tilting his helmet in thought, he speaks.

“Now this is something I’ve never seen in all my time in the Green,” he muses with a drawl. “A little girl.”

A statement, not a question, and you bristle while he continues to study you curiously.

“Leave, or I’ll shoot.”

Your finger flexes on the trigger, and he raises his hands in front of him.

“Calm down, little bird. My partner and I merely ventured this way to see if all was okay after that crash we heard.” His eyes scan the cabin, a scattered mess. “Seems it was quite the landing.”

Shuffling your stance a fraction closer, you keep the thrower trained on them. “I’m fine. Now please. Go.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re fine.” He sounds completely unbothered, like you aren’t pointing a weapon directly at him. Taking a slow step forward, he peers around you. “Your partner sure doesn’t seem fine.”

“He’s not my partner. It’s my –” You freeze, scolding yourself for immediately volunteering information and his gaze drops down to your father’s lifeless form. The stranger's face sobers, and he looks back at you.

His jaw shifting in thought, his partner seems to grow bored of the conversation and takes a heavy step forward, advancing on you.

“Stop,” you try to order, panic creeping into the command, but he doesn’t. He keeps going, his large arm reaching towards your thrower. His massive grip choking the barrel, he rips it clean from your hands before you can even think about stopping him, and you crouch back behind your chair, trembling.

“My apologies for my partner, little one. He’s not keen on having weapons pointed at him. You can understand, I’m sure. Why don’t you come out from behind that chair and let’s talk. A deal, if you’re open to it.”

You don’t want to strike a deal with them. You know that any deal you attempt to broker on your behalf is going to be in their favor no matter what the conditions are. Your father never taught you the skills of negotiation – those were always done out of sight. Your mouth dries, sweat beading along your nape. What fucking deal could there even be to make that doesn’t end up with you dead? Or worse?

With so much happening in the last two hours, it’s hard to process anything, let alone a negotiation with deadly strangers on a hostile planet. How you handle this situation could be literally life or death for you, and you beg your brain to pick up pace.

Please. Please. Come on, think.

Your mind still struggling but knowing you’re running out of time, you force yourself back up.

“The deal was leave, and I won’t shoot.”

He only grins at that, and rage at the unfairness of it all flares bright through you.

“Besides, why should I believe anything you say? You’ll probably just kill me the first chance you get.”

“Why would you assume I intend harm?”

You don’t have anything to say to that, instead looking at his partner. Fear at his sheer size displays clearly on your face no matter how hard to try to mask it. “Why else would he steal my gun? Shoot me first before I can shoot, right?”

“If that was the case, he would have shot you already.” He lets a beat pass, his eyes narrowing in their focus on you. “Still could though, I guess.”

There is something behind the indifference in his voice, something in his eyes that begs you silently to listen to him — but then his partner raises his thrower, and several things happen at once.

You whimper, dunking behind the tattered chair.

The smaller man whips his railgun from his hip, pulling the trigger.

You scream, and the bullet hits his partner square in the chest.

The larger man stumbles forward as if to grab him but the smaller one shoots him again, the second shot landing in his gut. The force of the close shot pushes the larger man backwards, his heavy body slamming into the pod wall.

He slumps down, collapsing into a lifeless heap.

There is a beat of weighted silence; your form frozen.

The roguish man’s profile faces you: dark features partially obscured by the dome of his helmet, you can see closely shorn brown hair in matted disarray with a shock of white that smears just above his temple. Black eyes that glimmer in the fluorescent light, the edges lined with age. Tanned skin, a strong nose, plush lips under a mustache.

He stares at his dead partner with something akin to satisfaction, and it turns your stomach to think of not only how quickly he resorted to violence, but also how much he seems to enjoy it.

“Well would you look at that. Now we have two to move.”

Still in shock, the violent scene in front of you startles you just as much as his nonchalance does. You watch as he turns to face you; a hooked scar marring the skin under his eye.

“Now little one,” he says with seeming politeness. “You ready to hear that deal?”

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra/you #ezra/reader #pedro pascal

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