#But I got so so lucky and never had to go in

[gghostwriter]

Time Gave No Compass, Were There Clues?

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times fate brings you to cross paths with a certain handsome stranger and the one time he purposely crosses with yours Trope:It’s fluff in a meet cute type of way w.c: 5.6k+ a/n: this is connected to ‘One Single Thread of Gold’! This took forever to make simply because I had this fear that the second part wouldn’t come out as great as the first and I’ve been in a writing funk lately—not quite sure if my writing worsened or got better during this period but at this point, maybe I shouldn’t care that much anymore? That’s a lie so please comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The first encounter—a knight in a vintage blue vehicle

The drumming noise of the rain against the vinyl awning of the Japanese restaurant became the perfect soundtrack for watching countless strangers scurry to the nearest shelter.

It was the night that you have dubbed your unluckiest as a woman in Washington—up until he came along.

According to the morning weather forecast, there was little to no chance of rain. A radiant reprieve from the downpour of light rainfall the city had been experiencing three days in a row. A believer of facts you were, excitedly slipped on your new pair of heels and joined the outside world, sun shining up above the sky without a single speck of dark cloud lingering in its wake.

The work day was nothing special—jumping on video calls with your boss, answering international emails from the magazine’s sister branches abroad, and reviewing articles set to be published for next month’s print.

Nothing unusual. No sign that the day would roller coaster down and up again, before ending right before a drop, leaving you white knuckled with anticipation.

As you were exiting the diner with your freshly cooked to-go in one hand, the weather decided to beat the statistics presented by the news forecast. Rain poured down hard, effectively stranding you on the covered sidewalk.

“Oh,” you mumbled under your breath, forced to settle down on the empty outdoor seating. The gust of cold wind that caressed your cheeks to turn pink reminded you of comforting childhood memories—warm cocoa, blanket forts, and cuddles with your precious teddy bear. 

It brought a smile on your face, recalling the time when life was still simple.

Working as a writer for an established fashion magazine had its own ups and downs. You felt lucky enough to be given the opportunity to work with living and breathing artists, all the while having the flexibility to live anywhere in the country.

Your boss initially found it odd when you mentioned temporarily moving back to Washington. It wasn’t a state well-established in the industry after all. It was a city filled with starched pressed suits, neutral ties, and newly shined loafers—the epicenter for politics and everything serious. 

The ridiculous misconception about fashion and its frivolousness caused your nose to scrunch. It was the same idea that pushed newly graduate you to move to New York and burn the midnight oil to be where you were now, highly respected in the circle.

She understood your truth—the need for a change of scenery before jumping back in to the game with fresh new eyes. Jokingly, she wagered you’d only last two months away from the Big Apple before coming back. It had been six months since then and you were starting to believe the urge for the city that never sleeps will never cross your mind again.

As you mused about the trajectory of your career, the clouds started to let up, enough that you took the chance to open your compact umbrella and possibly ruin your heels to get to the nearest subway entrance just 10 minutes away.

A mistake that you realized halfway as a sudden blast of strong wind flipped your umbrella inside out, rending you vulnerable to the hasty returning rain.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as water started to stain your light purple satin heels, turning them near black.

Definitely ruined.

The flickering light of the entrance and the still warm spot underneath the restaurant pulled you in two different directions. Should you just brave the weather already starting to look like a drowned animal or should you go back with your tail tucked between your legs?

As you debated your next move, being poorly protected by your broken umbrella and soaked by the tormenting weather no less, a blue vintage car came to a stop beside you and honked it’s horn.

“Um—do you need help? A ride, maybe?” a voice shouted out of the rolled down passenger window, barely heard against the torrential downpour.

A good Samaritan was rare this day and age. So uncommon that it made you immediately wary. You looked around, making sure it was you the stranger was addressing before uttering a reply.

“Depends on who’s asking,” your free hand clutching the ends of your spoiled umbrella. “Are you a serial killer by any chance?” 

He paused, caught off guard with your question, and chuckled. “What? No, no. Not at all, just a concerned citizen.”

You bit your lip, wavering between accepting his offer at the risk of your life, before reaching to open the passenger door. “Fair enough.”

The stranger promptly layered a black windbreaker on the tan leather seats. “Sorry, it’s just—did you know that wet leather can lead to discoloration?”

Your eyebrows raised, shuffling to get comfortable on the seat—mindful of your back not touching, before giving him a nod. “Yes, actually I did but it’s great to see someone else know about it too.”

He pressed his lips together into a tight smile and reached forward on the console, tinkering with the unlabeled knobs, turning up the heat. 

Your eyes tracked his every movement, curious as to any indication to who this mysterious gentleman was.

His nails were light pink in color, clean, and cut short—possibly for a desk office job. His fingers were long and bony, model length you’d surmise—a little calloused on one side of his middle finger possibly from holding a pen too tight. The back of his hand veined and wide in size, big enough to dwarf your dainty slim hands in comparison.

Your cheeks heated up, feeling guilty for gawking at a man’s hands before spilling your address without so much of a thought for your safety.

The stranger blanched, clearly caught off guard with your trusting nature. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to go with strangers willingly? Or provide vital information about yourself for that matter?”

You appraised his profile as his eyes trained on the road. 

Hazel colored hair that curled around his face. Sunken eyes framed by long, dark lashes that any woman could envy. A tall and straight nose bridge. Maroon pillowy lips and a sharp jawline perfectly matched with a five-o’clock shadow.

He was handsome.

Pretty even.

The type you’d see a casting agent and photographer fawn over.

Shoulders seemingly angular and wide, stretching his black knitted cardigan well. It’s arms pushed up to showcase his forearms lithe in form with muscles flexing underneath as he twists the wheel to take a right. His seat pushed the farthest it could go, highlighting how tall he could be.

Your handsome gentleman could rival male models that graced your magazine’s editorial pages.

“Well, you don’t look like a serial killer and I think I’d take my chances with you than out there—” a flash of lightning trailed on the darkened sky followed by a loud clap of thunder. “—yeah, I stand with my choice.”

His laughter mid-pitched, filled the confined space. “And how does a serial killer look like?”

“Sinister and not trustworthy. You look neither, by the way,” you shrugged.

“Actually, there’s a minor percentage of killers that don’t fit in your description. Ted Bundy is an example, he used his good looks to lure in unsuspecting women.”

You hummed in agreement. “You’re right and you could definitely use your looks too but I still doubt you’re one. Let’s call it intuition and if I had to guess, you work at a desk job. Finance or Human Resources, maybe?”

“Are you saying I look—” he cleared his throat, a wrinkle appearing between his well shaped brows. “—handsome?”

“Well, at the risk of sounding like I’m flirting with you—which I’m not, well, maybe. But yes, I think you’re good looking. Handsome.” 

The pink flush that slowly darkened to a cherry red started its descent to his exposed neck, making him look more endearing. His reaction made it quite obvious he was never one to receive such flattery about his appearance which made you question the eyes of the women around him.

He was utterly distinguished and dressed in this comforting nerdy fashion that added to the appeal.

“I take it you’re not used to compliments.”

The long lashes that framed his molten chocolate eyes fluttered, as if highlighting is naivety in dealing with the opposite sex.

It sent butterflies free in your stomach.

“Yeah, but thank you. And I’m really not a serial killer—I wouldn’t be using a memorable vehicle in picking up a victim in a crowded street with city cameras around. Not that, that information helps me state my case. In fact, it’s making it worse—” he rambled out, easing the car into a stop beside your apartment complex. “What I meant was, I-I think you’re good looking too, beautiful.”

You laughed at the absurdity of where your night has ended up.

The air trapped between two bodies crackled with an energy you couldn’t name. It was humming below the surface, making you feel hyper aware of the man who drove you home.

It was igniting.

Possibly the start of something.

In contrast, the outside was quiet and still. The rain had finally come and gone, leaving behind its comforting atmosphere.

The lamp posts reflecting off the puddles of water, tinting the streets a warm, honey gold color. Leaves dancing, like string puppets controlled by the forces of nature. The wind whispering and giggling—to what, you didn’t know but you felt it wasn’t important to dissect. No more important than the stranger who’s scent, aged books and cedar wood, intermingled with yours, vanilla and a hint of amber.

“Thank you for the ride,” quickly exiting the vehicle. Suddenly you felt shy as the last few minutes replayed in your head—how trusting you were to take his offer and how naive it was of you to let your guard down.

The sound of a subsequent car door opening echoed on the empty street. “You’re welcome and you’re wrong, by the way.”

“Wrong about what?” You twisted to look back.

The street lights hitting his face, casting a mysterious shadow on his handsome features.

“About me working in finance or human resources.”

Huh. 

Your steps faltered to a stop.

That was a first—people around you always did say you read people best.

He was an exception it seemed.

An anomaly.

A mystery you wouldn’t mind taking a second try in solving.

“Better luck next time then. I hope to see you around,” you waved as you opened the heavy metal gate behind you.

His hand mimicked your goodbye before promptly reaching down to open his car door, effectively disappearing from your gaze as you pushed the main door open to the lobby.

As you watched the remaining water droplets slide down your coat, waiting for the rickety elevator to descend, an all important question popped in your mind that you never uttered into the world.

His name.

You forgot to ask for his name.

Hurriedly running back to the entrance, your stained heels clacking on the stoned pathway, you opened the gate just to spy the gentleman’s memorable light blue vehicle rev forward to blend into the chilly city night. 

Damn.

**

The second—a shared cup of Joe between two no longer strangers

The sun peeking underneath the cotton candy white clouds did little to fight off the inevitable Autumn air. Weeks of sunny days from the past storm is nearing its end causing the city occupants to flood the streets and parks for their last soak of Summer. 

Weeks have gone since your enthralling encounter with the handsome stranger and his vintage blue car. You’ve spent days replaying the memory in hopes of finding any more clues on who he was or even how to run into him again. Nights lamenting over the missed opportunity and the bitter what-if that came with it. The thought, now hazy from time passed, seemed to be colored in this golden hue you couldn’t quite describe.

A sigh escaped from between your pale pink lips. 

The moment was captivating.

He was beguiling.

But until you run into him again, his very being in your mind lived rent free.

Hand adjusting the pale pink scarf wrapped around your neck, you stepped into the warm quaint bakery down by the office. The aroma of freshly baked bread and roasting coffee beans enveloped the otherwise packed store. It was still early on the day and otherwise sleep deprived workers were queuing up for their daily fix.

This had been your spot since renting a small office space to commute to. Given your need to separate home from work, you’ve opted to find a studio you could call your temporary ‘work room’. It added extra expense, you’d agree but the comfort of being in a sea of strangers going to and from added a sense of productivity you’d never quite get if you created a makeshift office in your one bedroom apartment downtown.

You squeezed your way towards the front to view the pastry selection when you spotted him.

The gentleman in question at the counter, clearly holding up the line. 

He flashed Sarah, your usual fixer as you joked, a tight smile filled with apologies and embarrassment. 

Destiny seemed to have heard your calls and to that you were grateful.

Not wanting to let this second chance encounter go to waste, you excused yourself to the register and deftly slid your card on the white granite counter.

“Hey Sarah, do you mind adding my order with his? And a one of your buttery croissants would be much appreciated.”

Her eyebrows raised, clearly wondering the reason behind your surprising actions. Eyes flickered to the stranger beside you muttering his light disagreeing reaction before nodding towards you, as if agreeing with what she saw. “One long black and a flat white coming right up.”

“Hey stranger, fancy seeing you here,” you cocked your head to the side, loose tendrils escaping the confines of your loose bun.

The same blush that haunted you graced his face. “Hey—hi, it’s you! It’s nice to see you again,” his fingers proceeded to fiddle with his leather worn wallet. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. Pay for my coffee, I mean.”

“It’s no problem at all, just think of it as my payment for the ride the other day and also a thank you for, you know, not turning out to be a killer, like you kept bringing up.”

He chuckled, eyes crinkling close. “Well, I just wanted to instill some extra caution in you. It’s good to think well of people in general but it doesn’t hurt to be wary of them either. Especially the statistics of you—a young woman being targeted is quite high no matter how safe Washington seems to be.”

“I did get an earful from my friend about the reckless act I did. So, safe to say I’ve learned my lesson—” you paused, flashing Sarah a smile as your hands wrapped around the steaming cup of coffee and the bag containing the pastry. “But between you and me, I think she was more miffed about something I didn’t do.”

He mimicked your movements and proceeded to guide you to the nearest available standing table, his free hand hovering near the small of your back. 

“And what was it?”

“Not getting your name.”

His free hand wrapped around the strap of his satchel, pulling it towards the front of his body as if it was a shield that could hide away the blush that slowly crept down his neck.

“I, yeah—Spencer. Spencer Reid.” 

You introduced yourself with the same enthusiasm, finally at ease for knowing who he was.

“Well then, Spencer Reid, was I really wrong or was that just a lie to throw my deductive skills off course?” your hands pushing the packets of sugar towards his steaming open cup.

He thank you silently, counting at least 8 packets of sugar before returning the remaining ones in the jar. “What do you mean?”

“You not working in finance.”

“Well statistically speaking, more than 43% of the offices located here don’t belong in the finance section,” he grinned. 

With his eyes twinkling, he further continued. “21% of those are actually the government sector while the remaining are a mixture of publishing, business, and IT.”

“You sprouting off statistics doesn’t really sway me from my guess, you do know that?” You hummed, watching him dump and stir all the sugar into his dark cup of Joe. The idea of how sweet it would be sent a slight shiver down your spine. “If not finance then hmm—what about teaching?”

Appraising his get up for the day—a purple button down layered with a seemingly fraying cardigan and a black overcoat. He reminded of you of those quirky university professors that students would have no problem having a crush on. 

“You look like a young college professor with a couple degrees under your belt. Maybe literature? Or math?”

An airy laughter emitted between his lips. “Why is it always returning back to math?”

“I truly don’t know—” you shrugged. “You look smart and academic so that’s my best guess.”

“There’s actually a statistic on how many academically gifted people end up in the field of science rather than in math but I don’t know if you’d like to hear it.”

You leaned forward. “I actually do but that would cement my idea of you in maths.”

A ring from his pocket interrupted his reply. Spencer clambered to answer the call even before its’ third ring. 

“Yeah. Okay, got it. 5 minutes.” 

Any humor or lightheartedness the conversation brought had been erased from his face. It must have been work and the gravity of his responsibility must be heavy—definitely not finance and maybe not a professor then.

“I have to go—” Spencer tightly smiled, hands pulling the satchel and drink closer to his body. “It was really nice seeing you again.” 

You nodded, wordlessly walking out of the shop with him. As he started to step away from your presence, he turned back one last time to further throw you off course.

“You were right about one thing.”

Brows furrowing together, you shout back. “Which one?”

Spencer just smiled and shrugged his shoulders before turning forward, picking up his pace and leaving you further baffled about his mystery.

**

The third—a run- in during an otherwise idle day

The white noise the train against its tracks threatened to lull you into a daze. Its compartment surprisingly sparse with occupants during this otherwise tranquil Saturday. Everyone seemed to be at nearby parks, watching the leaves slowly turn this red-orange hue.

Your companion in hand—a book with its spine cracked and front cover folded backwards, sat idly on your denim lap. It was a tattered and worn copy of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. When you were in your teens, it had been the gateway to your love of classic literature and it had been your favorite ever since.

The bench you were seated on shifted and with it, medium brown brogues registered in your periphery.

Inwardly, you scoffed at the stranger invading your space when there were a multitude of empty seats available in your section. Briefly you wondered if this was going to be another day of being picked up by men who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’ which inevitably would ruin your day. 

As you were debating on nicely excusing yourself away, the man cleared his throat.

“Hey—hi,” he sheepishly greeted in this voice that had been replaying in your head since that rainy weekday night. 

You blinked away the surprise—the bafflement that fate had seemed to cross your path with his again and again and again. It always happened when you least expected it. After all, you spent numerous days craning your neck for even a small glimpse of Spencer Reid to no avail. Your eyes would subconsciously sweep the streets for a view of any suede coat matched with a purple pattern scarf. It had been your own version of Where’s Waldo—a past time that your friend joined as you forbade her (and by extension, yourself) from looking him up online. 

You wanted to keep the mystery and it seemed fate was rewarding you today.

“Hi-hey Spencer. This is a surprise,” your cheeks stretching wide from the grin you gave him. 

His fingers brushed a nonexistent stray of hair behind his ears. “Yeah, I couldn’t believe it was you. The odds of ever seeing you again—or anyone I’d know on the train is low, with how many people Virginia has.”

“Isn’t it fascinating?” your hands closing the book that no longer held your attention. “How we seemed to just run into each other? Funny how that works.”

“I mean, you could say that—not that I believe in destiny or fate with how abstract and little scientific studies it has. Maybe we just run in the same small schedule or circle.”

Your eyebrow raised, appraising his look. 

His hair looked unruly—with one side more flattened the the other, possibly slept on. His clothes, although free from any stains that would indicate it as yesterday’s, had crease marks that were reminiscent of its folding. They were clean but also not pressed—came from the satchel then. The very same bag laying on his lap, no doubt filled with dirty laundry and other necessities.

“I don’t think so,” you pondered on. “Are you just on your way back home from work, by any chance?”

“How’d you know that?” His voice cracking at the end.

You shrugged. “I pick up on things, small details and all that.”

“That’s really good. Must come in handy with your work as a journalist.”

Now it was your turn to be surprised. “How’d you know that? How’d—what gave it away?”

“It was an educated guess which—” he flashed you a grin. “—you just confirmed now.”

“Touche. Although that does seem unfair,” you pouted. “You know my occupation but I can’t even get yours right.”

He tilted his head to the right, eyes twinkling with life that keeps you pulled in. “You’re welcome to guess. In fact, I could give you a clue if you wanted—” he paused waiting for your agreement which you readily gave. “—alright you were right about one thing the last time: the one about me having multiple degrees.”

“You look young so I’m guessing a genius?”

“Well, my co-workers do like to tease me as one and it is true so yeah. I am a genius.”

The way his eyes shifted showed how bashful he was in admitting out loud he was one. You briefly wondered if there was ever a time where he felt embarrassed about it—probably in high school, you’d surmise. Teenagers, after all, had the tendency to ostracize anyone who doesn’t fit the rigid status quo they’ve collectively agreed upon.

“That’s amazing!” You gushed. “And it does narrow it quite down, actually. Do you happen to work for the government? I mean, I’m sure they try to collect the best minds our country has to offer, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do work for the government. And you’re right, they do tend to employ gifted adults as a way to also surveillance them—to make sure they don’t turn into anti-statists or anarchists.”

You pondered over every detail he presented. Freshly manicured nails tapping on your leg before finally guessing. “Okay so, I was first going to say NASA because—” you shrugged. “—it’s space but then that would be too stereotypical of me to assume. Plus, you’ve thrown off just about any deductions I’ve made during our first two meetings—”

Spencer nodded. He seemed proud to listen to you ramble your way through. 

“—I was also going to guess administrative work but it’s a weekend and you’re just on your way home so that’s a no—”

A small spread on his face.

A good sign that you were in the right direction.

“—it can’t be the judiciary too, right? I always imagined them to be wearing neutral suits and have this stoic air around them—”

He chuckled.

“—so I’m guessing law enforcement? Can’t be a regular cop, they have uniforms. So, for the FBI? Or am I just reaching?”

Spencer vigorously nodded his head, the wavy tendrils tucked behind his ears escaping their confines. 

“That’s right! Wow—you’re really good at this. Maybe you should have also been scouted!” He teased.

You giggled, the happiness from getting it right and the idea of you working with a gun seemed ludicrous. “Sadly, I may be too clumsy for that kind of work. With my type of luck, I’d probably trip over my feet and mess up a crime scene.”

The automated voice announcing the next station broke through the lighthearted conversation. Spencer’s eyes widened ever so slightly, indicating that this was his stop.

“I guess this is it, huh? See you soon then, Spencer?”

He sandwiched his lower lip between his pearly teeth. “Would you be interested in purposefully seeing each other next time? I would love to get to know you more—over dinner? Coffee? Any would be great—you don’t have to say yes of course but yeah.”

“Can I say yes to all of the above?” You teased. “I would love to.”

Spencer started to get up, hands pulling on his satchel to secure it. The train was coming to a stop and you could begin to see the stop come into view.

Your hand quickly reached out to tug on his rolled sleeve. “Wait—how do we contact each other?”

“It’s tucked in your book. My number, I mean,” he laughed. The sound coaxing you to release your own. “See you!”

Your eyes tracked him getting off the train and his would meet yours one last time, before disappearing towards the station’s nearest exit. Your hands hastily opened the front page to where a new object was slotted in between without you knowing.

His calling card.

Federal Bureau of Investigation - Behavioral Analysis Unit SSA Dr. Spencer Reid 1-761-xxx-xxxx

Giggling, you fished your phone from the confines of your wallet and quickly sent out a text.

Hey. Are you a magician too, by any chance? 

**

The fourth or better yet, the planned first—two strings interwoven by fate

Spencer hadn’t been able to explain the circumstances that led him here tonight—walking through a nearby park in the sparkly but cold weekend night with a beautiful woman right by his side. 

The dinner date had gone surprisingly well. So great in fact that he didn’t want it to end. Suggesting to walk you back home rather than use his blue well beaten vehicle left parked near the restaurant was his idea to prolong the night. 

He was well aware that you both could be exposing yourselves to a seasonal bout of cold but for the first time, it didn’t matter to his overactive and over-analytical brain. Nor did it seem to matter to you—given with how vigorously she accepted his suggestion to walk. 

Your dainty right hand was wrapped around the bouquet of flowers he personally selected. An array of daisies, daffodils, and sedums.

Joy from having to meet you, to new beginnings, and affection.

Spencer wanted to convey what he had been feeling since that run-in the coffee shop. Regardless if you knew what they meant.

This was all uncharted territory and the incidents that brought them into each other’s worlds was baffling to say the least. 

Was this the really the works of fate?

Does this prove that destiny is true and the notion of having free choice is a lie we tell ourselves?

He concluded it probably didn’t matter.

All that mattered was where he was now—with you.

“So you really took all those degrees all together?” you clarified, eyes widening from disbelief. “The amount of studying and writing you’ve done must have been massive.”

“Well, it did help that I could read fast—20,000 words per minute, but I could still remember my hands cramping from the amount I had to type down.”

“Of course you can still remember, with your eidetic memory and all. That must be nice—never forgetting any novel you’ve read.”

He shrugged. “It does have it’s perks but between you and me, there is a downside to it.”

You halted in her step, staring inquisitively up at him. 

Spencer found it cute—how even with yout heeled boots on, you could only reach up to his chest. It gave him this sense of protectiveness over you being. 

“Oh yeah, like what?”

He pondered. “Well, we did have this one vampire case and one of the victim’s laptop password was ‘Cullen’ and I didn’t get the reference—thought it was ‘colon’ actually. So I decided to read the first book and didn’t like it.”

“You actually read ‘Twilight’?” You giggled. It sounded like wind chimes echoing through the trees.

“I was curious!” His voice went up an octave. “Is that what teens are reading, really? What ever happened to reading ‘Lord of the Flies’ or Franz Kafka during high school, for that matter?” 

“The one where a group of boys are stranded on an island or the one where the protagonist turns into a cockroach? Doesn’t really read romance for teen girls, Spencer.”

He chuckled. “And a 104 year old vampire does?”

“It’s about the idea,” you continued on walking, free hand swinging in between you—all he had to do was reach out and intertwine it with his but could he do that? Should he? Would she want that? “How Bella is your average, teen next door and someone like Edward, mysterious and handsome, could fall for her. It’s about the premise—I mean which teenage girl didn’t dream of something like that?”

“Does that include you too?”

You laughed. “I mean—Edward isn’t really my type but sure, I guess.”

Spencer decided to do it. He tentatively reached out his pinky to yours, looping them together.

There, a small touch you could say no to.

He waited for the reaction. From himself, there was a lack of worry for germs (this surprised him) and from you, the possibility of rejecting his small advances. With a breath lodged in his throat, Spencer watched a shy smile grace your face and cheeks turn further pink. 

Empowered by the reaction, he reached out to intertwine the rest of his freezing hand with yours and proceeded to tuck both into his coat pocket. Spencer felt his cheeks emit warmth, wondering where his courage came from. If Morgan just saw him now, no doubt he’d get a pat at the back and a whispered ‘you’ve got serious game, kid.’

“It’s a good thing he isn’t my type at all, don’t you think so?” You whispered. “I mean, you don’t sparkle in the sun, do you?”

His laughter echoed through the otherwise empty streets. 

“Oh god—that was so so bad. Ignore my cheesy flirting, please.”

“No, no,” he shook his head, feeling lightheaded from your presence. “I don’t think I do, actually. We could check—” clearing his throat “—once the weather gives way to the sun.”

It seemed like you got what he was subtly stating. “That long, huh? I’ll hold you to that promise.”

“Please do.”

Both your steps slowed to a stop in front of your apartment complex.

Spencer sighed under his breath, he really didn’t want the night to end. There was still so much to talk about—anything and nothing at the same time. Is this what they meant when they said time flies when you’re having fun? 

“Well,” you squeezed his hand twice. “This is it. I had fun tonight, Spencer.”

He squeezed back in return. “I did too. Can I—call you again?”

You nodded, a single tendril of hair escaping from its' loose bun.

Mesmerized, Spencer reached forward and secured it behind your reddening ear. “Get home safe.”

“I doubt anything would happen between my way up from the elevator to my door but I will. Drive safe and let me know you got in safely, got it?”

He reluctantly let go of your hand, slowly backing away without turning his back on you. Each second seeing you bundled up in a coat with flowers still on hand was an image he never wanted to forget, never wanted to miss.

As he was a few steps away, the wind carried your sweet voice to his ears.

“Hey, Spencer. There’s one thing I think you forgot to take with you.” 

He patted his coat, unsure as to what you were pertaining to. Eyes scanning his being when the distinct sound of your heels against the pavement, getting closer and closer, made him look up.

A pair of soft warm lips met his cheeks. 

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

His jaw dropped. The act short circuited his otherwise intelligent brain. It felt like every thought had dropped away, turning insignificant, compared to the tensed silence between two individuals once considered strangers but now intertwined in a way he could not explain in any language he knew. 

Little white specks floated down from the sky, coloring the moment in the lightest color ever possible—a hue that symbolized new beginnings.

Before his mind could catch up, Spencer felt himself moving.

Towards you.

Closing in. 

Cupping your cheeks.

And meeting his own lips with the ones that short circuited his brain.

In that moment, all he could comprehend was the smell of you—like freshly cleaned laundry dried under the sun. The taste of you—cherries with a hint of the red wine you drank over dinner. And the feel of you—warm, hands grasping his coat tight, flowers dropped on the ground, momentarily forgotten.

These were details he willed to engrave in his eidetic memory. Observations he doesn’t want to forget.

And you, the single woman he hopes to never lose.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[ardentguilt]

Im a trans man and I had a complete hysterectomy last year.

You can essentially have 3 levels that entail removal of different things ranging from just the uterus to the uterus, ovaries and tubes and finally the uterus, ovaries, tubes and cervix (What had done).

The processed can be done as an open surgery OR laparascopically (aka keyhole) and often what one of these is best determined by other factors like whether you’ve had prior abdominal surgery.

As someone who hasn’t had previous abdominal surgery the best bet for me was keyhole.

This entailed 4 small incisions (approx 1cm long each.) one toward the left side of my lower abdomen, one toward the right side of my lower abdomen, one right in the middle toward the top of the pubic region (basically just below the hairline of your pubes) and one vertical incision inside the bellybutton.

The main thing to know about a hysterectomy is that it’s a proceedure that does tend to make you feel VERY tired right after so it’s not uncommon to feel exhausted and do a lot of sleeping during the first 24-48 hours post op.

The proceedure does require catheterisation which can be uncomfortable and in some cases it may not be draining properly which you’ll know because you’ll start feeling discomfort in your bladder area. Just buzz for the nurses and they can sort things out, you may need it repositioned or even just have your bed tilted slightly to get some help from gravity.

Hospital stays are as little as overnight to longer and seems to be dependent on whether you are able to fully empty your bladder without the catheter. If you can do that as there’s no other issues you’re good to go.

While I’m not a cis woman and have been on T for ~8 years now I haven’t noticed any negative side effects of having the proceedure at all, if anything it’s improved my health physically and mentally.

If you want it done go for it and on the chance you might want bio kids in the future but you want your reproductive system gone they CAN harvest and freeze your eggs beforehand.

Now don’t take my word for it when it comes to how painful it is or how long it takes to recover because I’m a medical mystery and generally don’t feel physical pain so I never actually had any pain or discomfort with the proceedure or recovery and healed completely in ~3 weeks 4 days.

If you’ve NEVER had surgery before and are nervous about what it feels like to have surgery it’s literally like taking the best nap of your life. One moment you’re awake and the next you’re coming to in recovery as if no time has passed at all, you’ll probably fall asleep again and next thing you know you’ll be in one of the wards with no memory of how you got there.

For Aussies in the Hunter Valley/Newcastle region one surgeon I highly reccomend is Dr Angela Dunford who works out of Newcastle Fertility Clinic and performs the procedure out of Lingard Private Hospital (actually a really great hospital with great food and attentive caring staff).

She’s a really nice woman who has experience working with both cis women and gender diverse people, is very respectful of the decision to have the proceedure and won’t try to talk you out of it if you’re younger etc.

She also doesn’t believe in charging trans men an insane amount for the surgery because she essentially told me that as far as she’s concerned it’s not an elective procedure but an essential one in the context of a trans patient wanting it done. I mentioned I had limited income and she legit didn’t charge me a cent for the procedure. Sometimes the anaesthetist will charge a fee but I got lucky and mine waived the fee so all I had to pay was whatever fees the hospital charged which generally here is no more that $750 so that’s all I paid for the proceedure then earlier this year the hospital refunded me that cost (not sure why but I wonder whether it was down to my only needing an overnight stay and not requesting any resources like pain relief post op etc???)

As for whether having all this taken out will affect your HRT (ie with it gone will you need a smaller T dose because all that stuff won’t be producing hormones anymore) I did test this with my endocrinologist after having my proceedure and there was no effect on the levels of T in my system and no need to adjust my dose/extend the timeframe between doses.

If anyone has questions about any of this feel free to hit me up and I’m happy to answer and/or give you a link to a Google doc I put together with some info about the surgery (and other FtM transgender stuff like HRT and top surgery)

if you're looking for a sign to get the hysterectomy, get it. if you are wondering if you will feel freer, less burdened, more optimistic, lighter without your uterus, you will. if you simply want to never get periods again, get the hysterectomy. if you want to have sex with a different person every day forever and never worry about getting pregnant, get the hysterectomy. if you don't know whether or not you want to stay on hormones, get the hysterectomy anyway. if you're afraid you're too young, and that people will judge you, get it anyway. you don't have to live in a hostile body. you are the one who gets to decide what it will and will not do.

[b0r3dtod3ath]

Survived a cricket match!

♡ navigation / request info / f1 masterlist

♡ warnings: none

♡ an: requests are open and give me some feedback on this!

It was one of these rare weeks where Oscar wasn’t tied up with racing commitments, and he’d managed to snag a couple of tickets for the big game.

You, on the other hand, knew nothing about cricket. Sure, you had caught a glimpse a few times when Oscar was watching a match on his phone but you never fully grasped it.

You two arrive at the sun-soaked stadium that was filled with team colors, waving flags and chanting. Oscar tried to explain the basics of the game during your walk to the seats but most of it went in one ear and exited through another.

As the match started you tried to follow along but failed. You looked at Oscar, whose eyes full of excitement and anticipation looked at the field. You didn’t want to interrupt him but you were really lost. Finally you spoke up in a half-whisper “Oscar, I don’t think I get it. So it’s like baseball? But longer? I have no idea what’s happening”.

He chuckled and squeezed your hand, finding your confusion cute. "Okay, so the bowler-" he pointed to the man with the ball, "-is trying to hit the stumps behind the batsman. And the batsman-" he shifted his finger, "-is trying to score runs by hitting the ball and running back and forth between the wickets”.

You blinked. "Runs? Wickets? What are stumps again?"

"Alright, let’s start simpler," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

For the next twenty minutes, Oscar patiently explained the rules. You tried to follow, but every time you thought you understood something, a new term would pop up and scramble your brain.

At one point, you leaned into Oscar. “Why is it called a ‘googly’? That’s not a real word”.

He laughed, “It’s a type of delivery by a bowler. Trust me, it’s a real thing”.

"Oscar, this is so confusing. Can’t they just run laps or something? That’d be easier to follow”.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re impossible” he teased.

"Not my fault! Who even decided to make a game last this long?" you shot back and slumped in your seat “I think I’m going to bring a book tomorrow”.

The next day, you showed up armed with a book and a thermos of tea. Oscar saw you take out your stuff and burst out laughing. "Tea now? Are you setting up a whole library in the stands?"

"Hey, cricket’s long. I’m prepared for the marathon," you replied, holding up your supplies. "You focus on whatever this is, and I’ll focus on my chapters. Deal?"

"Deal," he replied, clearly amused. "But don’t come crying to me if you miss the best parts".

"Don't worry, I won't" you say opening your book.

Throughout the game, you occasionally peeked up at the field when Oscar got particularly animated. "See that?" he shouted at one point, gesturing wildly.

"Totally," you replied without looking up from your book.

"You didn’t see a thing," he accused, narrowing his eyes.

You grinned. "But I heard the crowd, so I know something good happened." He shook his head, laughing, and gave your hand a squeeze before turning back to the game.

When the final innings began, you leaned over to him. "So… are we winning?".

He sighed dramatically. "You don’t even know who we are, do you?"

"The yellow ones?” you asked hesitantly.

Oscar laughed, shaking his head. “Yes, the yellow ones. You’re lucky you’re cute”. He winked. Despite your disinterest, he didn’t seem annoyed.

Apparently the game ended with your team winning and the two of you were making your way to the car. "So, what do you think?”

You smiled, “Honestly? It was long and I still don’t think I get it. But I had fun just being here with you”.

Oscar wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “That’s all that matters. Besides, now you can say you’ve survived a cricket match”.

You laughed, leaning into him “Survived is the key word”.

“Thanks for coming with me, even if it’s not your thing”.

December 29, 2024

[drabblesandsnippets]

Imagine... (‘extreme weather leads to forced proximity’)

Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female reader

December Daze Challenge - Day 29 - @the-slumberparty

Warnings: (440w) Virgin reader. Brief mention of body image, drinking, and sex toys. (Mostly implied) smut, including fingering.

Imagine Bucky finding out that you’ve never had sex. It was the last thing he was expecting to learn about you, the two of you still laying the foundation of your friendship, most of your time spent with the others. And then an ice storm led to getting trapped in an elevator, the enclosed space triggering a panic attack that had you blurting out you didn’t want to die a virgin. In the moment, Bucky chose to pretend he didn’t hear your entire admission, focusing only on assuring you that you weren’t going to die. But as soon as the ‘danger’ passed and he safely got you back on solid ground, all he could think about was being the one to introduce you to the world of shared pleasure. A night of drinking is the catalyst, the alcohol loosening your tongue to disclose more of your complicated past and joke that your inherent lack of confidence reduces what limited options you already have due to your size. As much as Bucky’s always appreciated your similar sense of humor and self-deprecating jokes, this one’s a step too far for him.  Now, it's no longer just about getting to have sex with you and show you how good it can feel - it’s about proving how hot you are and how incredibly lucky anyone would be to be in your bed. Luckily, it doesn’t take much convincing - a surprise kiss under mistletoe the next day and your trust in Bucky has you believing this isn’t just some weird favor he’s offering out of pity. Every step of the way, he's convincing you of his desire for you, never once letting your insecurities grow - “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he says while he slowly undresses you, his lips touching every part of you he reveals. "You're so perfect, better than anything I could've imagined," he groans once he finally has you naked, his hands exploring your bountiful curves. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans right along with you when you allow his hand to wander between your soft thighs, his fingers slick with your arousal. “Is this what you do when you’re alone?” he’s desperate to know, your pussy clenching around his finger as he learns what makes you feel good, paying attention to all the spots that have you trembling underneath him.  Your bold confession that you usually use a toy has him groaning, his resolve crumbling when you explain, in glorious detail, how you fuck yourself with it. And as soon as he makes you come, he’s climbing off the bed in search of your toy, begging to watch, promising to fuck you after you give him a show.

Day 28 | Imagine… Masterlist | Day 30

Banners by @cafekitsune - Divider by @saradika-graphics

[butuhaventseenmyman]

Girl dad Curly but like you were on the original crew but you had to go on maternity leave so u got replaced by Daisuke and then when they all get back (everythings fine alright the crash never happened) and he gets to see his baby girl and it's just cute fluffy yk? It's been on my brain for the past like 5 days dude

ohhh i LOVE Curly being a girl dadddd

my first sfw writing lmao

(btw i always envision Grant & reader + babies living in Montana- his birth state- since he loves winter sports and winter is his fav season canonically)

Curly missed you. So, so bad.

he was so happy that he could have you on the ship for most of your pregnancy, but the two of you knew it would be best for you if you left right before giving birth. as much as Curly wanted to be there, he knew it would be the safest at home, where you felt comfortable. the Tulpar was no place for giving birth.

so, another person was brought in to replace you- Daisuke. you'd met him before the crew left, let him feel your bump. he was really sweet, and you were glad your captain was in good hands.

Curly, unfortunately, couldn't make it to the birth because he was stuck at work for the next 3-month haul (he was lucky it was short).

you, of course, gave birth in the hospital to a healthy, beautiful baby girl. Curly was so sad he couldn't be with you, and he also had no idea how you were doing or if the birth even went well.

he tried to distract himself by being busy on the ship. you were also grateful that the baby was so needy, because it helped you forget about your postpartum depression and missing your husband- at least, for a little bit.

you rocked her and showed her pictures of her daddy, played pre-recorded videos of him singing and playing guitar as she fell asleep. he would cry in his quarters every few nights when the homesickness got too much, and Anya, Daisuke, and Swansea would take turns talking to him and making him feel better.

in this case, 3 months was a really long time.

but finally, that day came where the crew completed their delivery and were able to come home. you bundled your baby girl up and put her in her car seat, making sure her stroller was secure in the trunk before making the drive to the landing site.

Curly's mom came with you, just to make sure you were okay. you took turns driving, and she did most of it to let you rest.

thankfully, it was only a few hours away, so you weren't too tired by the time you got there. you buttoned up your jacket and the two of you made the walk to the waiting area a safe distance away.

that was where you met Daisuke's parents and Swansea's wife and one of his sons. you showed them your baby and introduced yourself as the captain's wife and, fuck if that didn't turn you on just saying it.

the seven of you watched the ship land together. actually, you didn't watch much of it- you were more focused on the look of pure wonder in your baby's eyes. even if she didn't remember it when she was older, she was about to meet her father for the first time.

people helped the tired crew adjust as they exited the ship. Curly always let his crew go first- you bit your lip at the suspense that caused the three of you.

and when he finally emerged...you remembered what you had been waiting for all your life.

he didn't even glance at the assistants as he ran towards you, his eyes on his beautiful baby. he embraced you first, kissing you passionately and wrapping his arms around you. you were both teary as he assessed you and your body. "how was the birth? no complications? she's alright?"

he kissed you again before hugging his mother, sobbing like the child he used to be in her presence. he broke down and she comforted him like only his mother could.

once he had calmed down a little, Grant took a look at the pride and joy he had helped to create with you. she had your eyes with a few tiny wisps of curly hair. he fell to his knees and pressed his lips to her delicate, tiny little forehead.

he went around and showed her to everyone- his crew and his crew's family. Anya, Daisuke, and Swansea loved her almost as much as you two did. you all talked about her and your lives for a while before it started to get closer to sunset.

everyone said goodbye, a farewell until the next haul, and headed home. Grant's mom offered to get the car started and allow you two a moment alone.

he bounced the new love of his life and tickled her, watching her toothless giggle.

and as he embraced you and his beautiful new daughter, he knew he'd always strive to protect the two things in his life most worth fighting for- and you also knew that you'd be your strongest when you had the man that was the most worth waiting for.

a/n: so sorry chat (and especially you Sage my love <3) i had this in the drafts for a while and just finished it up tonight- hope you like it!!!

[finalresidentevilfantasy]

Leon who really didn’t want to participate in this secret Santa bullshit. What was the point? What if you got someone you didn’t even know or worse hated?

Leon who panics a little as he sees your name pop up on his screen. So he had to get you a gift. What to get you? He couldn’t half arse it.

Leon who’s been in love with the happy, go lucky receptionist for years. Never been sure how to tell her so settled for being good friends instead. Been there after every asshole that’s broken her heart.

Leon who watches as you decorate the office, tongue stuck out a little as you hang the mistletoe above the door.

Leon who spends weeks looking for the perfect gift. Alcohol? Too cliche. Perfume? Would he look weird if he knew what you wore everyday. Chocolate? Again cliche. A jumper? Nah. Nothing seemed right.

Leon who saw that one thing, that perfect gift. He practically skipped home to wrap it. He knew you’d love it!

Leon who bites his bottom lip nervously as the gifts are handed around the office. What if he was wrong? What if you hated it.

Leon who watched as every staff member opened their gift, scarves, jumpers, hats, chocolates, alcohol, all hiding behind paper. Only a few so far looked mildly disappointed.

Leon who opened his own gift, a bottle of vodka with a meal voucher for two. “That was me.” Amber spoke proudly as she batted her eyes at Leon, Leon gave her a forced, civil smile.

Leon who felt a little bad, Amber was nice enough, just not his type and a little pushy in her advances at times. He was hoping she’d perhaps gotten the hint after last time.

Leon who watches carefully as you undid the wrapping for yours. Curious eyes as you concluded it wasn’t clothing, nor alcohol or food. You pulled the small gift from the paper, although small it had meaning.

Leon who watched as your eyes met his instantly. Of course you knew it was from him. “This is beautiful.” You spoke as you held it up. “Thats kind of lame.” Amber scoffed and you shook your head with a smile. “No it’s perfect.”

Leon who was on his third glass of scotch when you found him. “Thank you Leon, it’s perfect.” You said as you hugged him, your scent wrapping around his senses as he cuddled you back. “How’d you know it was me?” “I just did.”

Leon who feels like he should tell her, surely right now would be a good time to say it. “Listen,” Leon started and your beautiful eyes met his own. “I feel like I should get something off my chest but I’d appreciate it if you never mention it again if you don’t like what I have to say.”

Leon whose nerves ease at your comforting smile, your hand on his bicep as you lightly squeeze in encouragement. “Look, I’ve liked you for an insanely long time and I wondered if maybe you’d want to go out to dinner? Just the two of us.”

Leon who might have made his lip bleed from nerves until your lovely voice filled his ears. “I’d love that.” You reached up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Merry Christmas Leon.”

[icallhimjoey]

eddie?! 👀 did you say EDDIE?!?! 👀👀👀👀

i DID say eddie! i had a tiny idea that fit the version of eddie ive written before (and the only version of eddie ive written before) and so... here we are. i am: so sorry. Wordcount: 6.6K

---

Let’s Go Home

(find all other parts of this story here)

“Let’s go get him.”

You sound very determined for someone completely unsure of how to handle the situation. It’s difficult to watch someone so deeply unhappy struggle with parts of their past they can’t seem to get a grip on.

“I… what?” two wet, red-rimmed eyes stare back at you. Confused. A little annoyed.

“Yea. Come on. Let’s go. We’re packing our bags and we’re going to go pick him up and bring him back here.”

Eddie doesn’t get it. Frowns, entirely unsure of who you’re talking about.

“Steve’s already here… and Wayne is coming here for Christmas, we don’t need to–…” he looks so tired.

“I know we don’t need to.”

It always happened when the days got a little shorter. When the nights got colder and Christmas loomed. When happy, wholesome family moments would be advertised all over the world, and it all became glaringly obvious – once again – how that was something Eddie never got to be a part of when he was little. Not until Wayne took him in and tried his best to make the holidays special in his own way.

No matter how hard Wayne tried, though, the bitter aftertaste of abandonment and loneliness was impossible to get rid of.

Eddie would never admit this to Wayne, but celebrating Christmas just the two of them felt just as pathetic and lonely as it had done when he lived with his parents still.

Different.

Definitely not as traumatizing, which was good.

But still dreary, and sad, with a lot of playing pretend that he was okay and happy and fine.

He was never okay and happy and fine.

Still isn’t okay and happy and fine.

That’s not Wayne’s fault, Eddie knows, and he feels like a shitty person because Wayne always tried his best. Did what he could. It just never quite worked.

Christmas would roll around, and Eddie would get depressed.

That’s just what happened.

Eddie would slip into sadness, scary thoughts intruding happy places they weren’t allowed to settle into, but he’d not yet learnt how to tell them to fuck off. To leave him alone. Didn’t know how to get the uninvited guests out of his house, and felt powerless as he watched them settle into his living room. Nothing he could do about it.

Somber, pensive moments would slowly stretch until they covered most of the day. Mornings were the happiest, still. He’d wake up after falling asleep eventually, never managing to slip into dreams before 3 AM, and for a moment, he’d forget. The short amount of sleep would have him tired enough to not remember the reality of his life for a second, and in those moments, it would just be you in bed with him and that would be the only thing in existence.

It’s awful to feel reality set into someone’s body mid-hug.

You wish you knew how to keep it out.

Over the years Eddie had learnt he had to vocalize his feelings. His thoughts. Knew that a burden shared was a burden halved, but knowing things in theory didn’t make them easier in practice.

“What can I do? Let me help.” You’d whisper, and Eddie was lucky you’d known each other for so long. There were no worried questions of are you okay, or a concerned soft hey what’s wrong.

You know he’s not okay, and you know what’s wrong.

“You, here. That’s all you need to do.” Eddie would murmur and he’d pull you in to hold you for a short while. And sometimes, that would temporarily fix him.

There is part of Eddie that honestly thinks if he doesn’t think about it, that it’ll be okay.

If he ignores it for long enough, it might go away by itself.

He’s lucky that sometimes, it does.

He pretends that the foundation of shit that he’d been given for his life hasn’t got all the cracks in. The house he has tried to build on top might shake a bit in the wind, but he can convince himself that the strong support beams that have been put in place will make sure the whole thing doesn’t collapse.

But it’s getting closer and closer to Christmas, and he’s sinking deeper and deeper into everything that’s dark, and cold, and uncomfortable, and painful, and scary.

Everything is designed to make people feel happy around this time of year, and he’s in LA where the sun shines all year long and it doesn’t even really get cold at all. Not like it gets cold in Hawkins. The days don’t really get that much shorter, and he can go outside in a T-shirt and be fine. But maybe that’s precisely the problem right now; there’s no quick get inside the house, and no let me warm your hands up for you.

The comfort of a frozen nose that get nuzzled back to life is unattainable in LA.

“Can you go to another meeting? Would that help, do you think?” you silently ask him one evening, hidden under the covers and too tired to stay awake for much longer, even though you know Eddie’s wide awake next to you. He’ll toss and turn for a couple more hours after you’ve drifted off.

“Yea, of course. I should.” Eddie is quick to reply, but you know he doesn’t want to.

Talking about his addiction with strangers when he’s trying his best to pretend it’s not there will just make things worse, he thinks. Logically, he knows it probably won’t, but there’s always that fear.

“Can I join you?”

You feel how Eddie shifts in bed, probably to take a look at you, but your eyes are closed and you’re about to fall asleep. This isn’t the time to fall into a conversation in which he asks you why on earth you would want to hear a lot of people you don’t know talk about a lot of drastic measures you don’t need to know people let themselves be pushed to sometimes.

So instead, you feel a kiss press to your temple, and he whispers, “Sure you can.”

At first, Eddie doesn’t say much in the meeting you join him for. You mostly listen to issues other people bring forward, and try to think of things you’d do if Eddie was the person speaking. If he was the one with all of those problems. How would you help?

How would you fix it?

When a kind, soft-spoken voice asks if there’s anyone new who wants to share, a lot of eyes fall on you, and you shift in your seat. Sit up a little. Feel Eddie squeeze your hand in his which could have meant, it’s okay, you can tell people why you’re here, but instead it means, I got this.

Eddie talks.

Tells everyone about how he feels like he’s deep in a depression and that he doesn’t really know how to get out of the dark pit he’s fallen into.

How it feels like he’s five years old and stuck in a small dark room, and he’s feeling all over the walls but can’t locate the light switch, and the longer he’s looking, the more he starts feeling claustrophobic in there.

You make the mistake of asking him if he can call out for help.

“Have you tried asking? Maybe someone else can turn the light on for you…”

Eddie breaks down, elbows on his knees, face hidden from the group as he looks at the wooden floor boards through his tears.

It’s not your fault.

Eddie doesn’t expect you to understand the feeling of being so utterly helpless and alone that he knows there’s no use in even trying to call for help.

No one would’ve answered.

You scoot your seat closer to his, and lean into his side as you wrap an arm around his back, fingers curling around his shoulder. It’s nice. He needs it. He also knows there’s thirteen pairs of eyes on him and he doesn’t know how to tell you that no matter how hard you’ll try, you won’t be able to actually fix anything.

“Let me turn the light on. Let Steve, or let Wayne– Robin… we can all help turn the light on. We’ll fly Wayne out, Robin too, and anyone else that you want. They can all move in, we have the space for it. Just… please, let us turn the light on, Eddie…”

It’s the fucking sweetest thing he’s ever heard, but he can reach for the light himself now. He can find it in the dark, and he can turn it on. The problem is that it doesn’t make a fucking difference.

Turning a light on now doesn’t change anything about his past.

Eddie gets asked if he has anything more to share. He sniffs and wipes his face with both his hands before he sits up and leans back and says, “Thank you, but um, no. I don’t. It’s this time of year, I guess. I know it’ll pass.”

You hold hands, fingers intertwined, as you listen to everyone else share more of their own personal issues, and when you leave Eddie puts his arm around you and pulls you close to kiss the side of your face. He tells you that he loves you, that he’s glad that he came, and he thanks you for coming with him.

You can see in his eyes that none of it helped.

Eddie lets himself sink deeper and all you can really do is be there for him. Be there when he wakes up and be there when he goes to sleep. You give him the gift of routine. Of healthy meals. Of pleasant walks outside. Long showers after.

It helps.

But it doesn’t fix anything.

You try your best at damage control. Talk to Steve. Call Wayne a lot.

And it helps.

But about two weeks later, Eddie starts isolating.

He had never isolated before.

Not like this.

He’s in his home studio, hyperfocussing on four seconds of a song he’s working on, and when you interrupt to tell him you’re going to go to bed, he says he’ll come up in a minute. He just needs to figure this bit out. “I’m so close, I can taste it.” Eddie smiles a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and for a moment you think Eddie’s going to let you listen to his work in progress. He always asks for your opinion, but this time he doesn’t. He just looks at you with a smile that’s just there for reassurance until you leave him alone.

At 5 AM you get woken up by Steve, who softly says, “You need to come downstairs…” and leads the way for you.

“I got up to pee, and the bathroom is right above the studio…”

You find Eddie in the exact same spot, going over the exact same four seconds of music.

He looks like he’s being tortured, barely able to keep his eyes open. When you gently pry the guitar from his hands, his breathing changes, and you think if he would have had the energy to sob, he would have cried like a child.

“Let’s go to bed, Eddie.”

Eddie lets you take him upstairs, but then locks himself in the bathroom and when you ask if he can let you in, all you can hear are soft sniffles whilst the shower runs.

It’s then that you decide.

Something is different this time around.

Something deeper has bubbled up, and you know whatever you are doing here, in LA, to help him simply will not be enough.

You establish a plan and pull out two suitcases that you place onto your bed. You’re going to pack your bags and you’re going to go get him.

It’s clearly necessary.

Eddie is no longer letting you comfort him and you’re scared that the next step is going to be a relapse.

“What are you doing?”

“Let’s go get him.”

“I–… what?”

Eddie hasn’t slept, and his unwashed hair is wet from the shower he’s sat in for a while, and you’re very calmly and methodically folding clothes into a suitcase. You might as well be speaking in a different language right now.

“Yea. Come on. Let’s go. We’re packing our bags and we’re going to go pick him up and bring him back here.”

Eddie slowly moves to sit down on the bed, and he looks at what you’re doing for a moment before he sighs and softly says, “Steve’s already here… and Wayne is coming here for Christmas, we don’t need to–…”

He stops speaking when he sees your slight smile.

“I know we don’t need to.” You say and Eddie doesn’t like how you look at him with so much care in your eyes. He doesn’t think he deserves it.

Doesn’t deserve you.

“Do you want to bring both of your black hoodies?” you then ask, not giving him a chance to question what’s happening, and so he just goes, “Yea… yea, sure.” before he lets himself fall backwards onto the mattress where he shuts his eyes.

You let Eddie sleep for as long as sleep will hold him. Pack up both suitcases and let Steve help you book travel back home.

“Do you want to come?” you ask when Steve is on the phone to a travel agent. He is listening to the woman who’s reading him back information he’s just given her, so he can’t answer you, but he reaches out and holds your hand whilst you listen to him book two tickets to Indiana.

When he gets off the phone he reaches for your other hand as well and says, “I’ll watch the house.”

You give him a slight frown. “You know he’d love you to come with us… Wayne says Hawkins is covered in snow. We could watch Christmas films in the trailer… get Robin and run across Lover’s Lake again… or, call Dustin and, I don’t know, Eddie could challenge him to a snow ball fight and they could play–”

“Dustin’s 26 years old.”

“Yea...” you frown at Steve. “So?” you sound desperate.

Steve huffs a laugh as he rubs his thumbs over your hands. He grimaces a little before he says, “No offense, but… he doesn’t need us out there. Of course you’ve got to go with him, but every other person is going to be one too many.”

And Steve’s right.

The next day, Steve joins you outside as you’re about to leave. He hugs Eddie for a long time by the trunk of the car, and you know they’re softly talking to each other. You can only see Eddie’s back, and Steve’s face is hidden by all of Eddie’s curls, but suddenly you can hear Eddie laugh before he pokes Steve in the side.

You get hugged next.

Eddie doesn’t sleep on the flight. Just stares out the window and gets lost in thought. You know he’s not entirely sure of why you’re taking him back to Hawkins, but he’s also not asked about it again.

When your rental car stops in front of Wayne’s trailer, you turn the engine off and sit in silence for a moment as you both just… look at it. It’s four in the afternoon, but it’s getting dark outside already.

Forest Hills.

A surprisingly large lot of land that holds about twenty-four sporadically placed trailers; some of them neatly lined up, others facing whichever way. Wayne’s trailer was one of those ones, placed diagonally to the road, surrounded by dry grass for most of the year which was now hidden by a thick layer of snow.

Momentarily, everything about the image that you’re looking at looks like it’s 1987. Maybe 1988. You can easily envision a younger version of yourself running up to that same front door, it swinging open before you could even get up the steps, Eddie bursting through just to throw you over his shoulder and haul you inside.

“We’re here...” you break the silence, stating the obvious, and find Eddie’s hand to squeeze.

It’s a little silly, but it looks like he’s scared.

“Did you tell him we were coming?”

“Wayne?”

Eddie turns to look at you, slightly confused because, yea who the fuck else?

“Yea. I called Wayne.”

You watch how Eddie takes a breath. Watch that information settle within him.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

And Eddie does. Doesn’t want to do anything without you, ever.

But he takes a shaky breath and says, “I’ll come get you in a second.” before he opens the door and gets out of the car.

Footsteps crunch in the snow, and you watch Eddie, hands in pockets, rush up the steps to what used to be the trailer that he lived in with his uncle. The trailer that he found home in when he was about seven years old and Wayne had decided that his bedroom could actually be Eddie’s bedroom instead for a while.

A while turned into fifteen years in the blink of an eye.

You watch Eddie hug Wayne through the window. It’s another long embrace, but this one doesn’t part with boyish grins and jabbing fingers. Instead, you can see how Eddie goes limp in Wayne’s arms a little, and when he goes to pull back, Wayne just… holds on.

Just a little longer.

It feels a little wrong to be watching them like this, chin perched on the steering wheel, fingers hidden in your sleeves. It feels especially invasive when you see how when they eventually part, the first thing both men do is bring their sleeves to their faces to dry what has become wet.

Then, Eddie steps away. Slowly walks towards the room that used to be his bedroom, and he goes alone.

Good, you think.

That’s good.

Wayne didn’t understand at first, when you told him over the phone. That you were coming over for a strange, but important visit. But this was good.

It takes a while.

Your fingers start to lose their feeling a little as you wait in the car, but it’s fine. You are not the priority right now.

When Eddie eventually emerges from the trailer, you get out of the car, and wait for him to call for you. A, come on. Come inside. It’s fucking freezing out here.

Instead, you get silence. Eddie doesn’t stop walking to wave you over.

He makes his way all the way over to where you’re stood next to the car, and then, he hesitates for a moment.

Eddie can’t look you in the eye.

“Everything okay?”

You know it’s not.

“He um…” Eddie starts, voice trembling. “He’s not here.”

“What?”

Eddie moves closer to place a kiss to your temple, eyes looking away, over the top of the car, across the trailer park. “He’s not here. I didn’t find him.”

Eddie steps around you and gets into the passenger seat, and for a moment, you stand with both shoes in slush whilst you try to think of what to do next. When you look back at the trailer, you catch Wayne through he window. Gives you a smile and a wave.

For a moment you contemplate running over, up those same steps, to ask what happened inside. Maybe Wayne has answers to questions you keep asking yourself.

Before you can, Eddie roars the engine back to life.

You give Wayne a wave back from where you’re stood and round the car to get into the passenger’s seat. You can talk to Wayne later.

Back inside the car, you put your seatbelt on and look at Eddie for a moment. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gearshift, and he’s biting his lip as he stares into space.

“If he’s not here…” you start pensively.

“It’s quite the drive.” Eddie answers, unmoving.

“We have the time.”

“I don’t think we’d make it back here before midnight.”

“Hey,”

Eddie turns his head to look at you.

“We have time.” You repeat yourself and place your hand on the back of his head where you softly scratch your fingers into his hair. “You good to drive?”

You don’t get an answer. Instead, Eddie puts the car in reverse and starts backing out. Just before he’s about to fully leave Forest Hills Trailer Park, he stops the car, even though there’s no traffic to wait for.

“I can drive if you want me to–”

“N-no, that’s not it. I can drive, but I…”

Eddie stares. Looks at his hands and just sits in silence, going through it. Then suddenly, he takes his seatbelt off, opens his door and quickly says, “I’ll be right back.” and he runs.

Left in a car with a running engine and a wide open door, you turn in your seat to watch Eddie’s breath leave him in white clouds as he runs back to the trailer, back up the steps, back inside. You’re too far away to see in the windows now.

It only takes a minute.

When he comes back, jogs down those steps in the snow, he looks a little lighter somehow. Like running back towards the car is a little easier.

Eddie gets back in the car, and he’s all loud inhales and rough exhales, hands rubbing together because it’s cold and he just ran through the snow, but then he looks at you as he puts on his seatbelt and he smiles.

There’s tears in his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“Had to tell him it’s okay. That I’m okay.”

Somehow, Eddie is beaming and solemn at the same time, but you’re happy that something has changed a little. That he seems to get it. You sink into your seat a bit more when Eddie pulls onto the road and starts heading south.

Eddie told you once, years ago, that he used to live in a motel before he came to Hawkins. How that’s all his parents could afford, and even then, they were always fighting with the front desk about money. Always late on payments.

It was just one big room, and even though it was just him, his mother and sometimes his dad, there were always people in their room. Strangers. Friends, his mother would tell him. Sometimes she’d even tell him, this is your Uncle Frank, and Eddie would be forced to shake the hand of a man he had never seen before and would never see again.

Eddie spent a lot of his early childhood confused.

He spent a lot of his childhood hiding.

Afraid.

Alone.

He wouldn’t ever trust anyone. People told him one thing and then they would laugh together and they would do something else.

Adults were evil, and yet the world was made so that adults were the ones that had to look after him. That made the decisions. That told him, go play outside, even if rain was coming down hard, and Eddie would have no other choice but to listen. To do as he was told.

He was only a little kid.

When Eddie was seven years old, he got kicked out of the room at eight in the morning and got told to not come back until they were ‘ready for him’.

Like he knew what that meant.

No one had told him how to tell time.

Eddie didn’t go to school.

But he knew that being sent outside meant that he had to go find his own entertainment for a while, and so he did.

Eddie was seven years old when he came back around lunch time with skinned knees and grass stains in his shorts, and there was commotion.

Lots of people.

People in uniforms.

A cop car.

A kind woman who asked him if he had lost his way. If she could help him get home. Eddie had just smiled and said, no thanks, and had tried to hide in the spot where he always hid. Adults were not to be trusted, Eddie knew. No matter how kind they looked.

Eddie was seven years old when he got pulled from his safe space, his little hiding spot, kicking and screaming, and got brought over to Wayne’s trailer. He’d never been back to that motel room again. Had never even gotten close.

The sun has fully set by the time you pull up outside of an old, run down motel that looks like it should’ve been torn down ages ago. Most windows are boarded up, paint on the walls is chipping and what used to be a light-up sign has been torn down.

It’s a dump.

Just trying to imagine someone growing up here has you choking up.

Little four-year-old Eddie running around these grounds? In dirty clothes too big for his body because nobody was feeding him right? Being exposed to things no child should ever be exposed to, simply because his bedroom was also the only room they had?

Before you can let it make you cry, you hear a faint chuckle beside you.

It’s small and weak, but it’s a chuckle none the less.

“I remember this place much bigger,” he says, like it’s funny. “There’s only like… seven rooms.” Eddie counts.

You’re momentarily unsure if coming here was a good idea. If facing this reality of his past is going to be doing him any good. If it won’t just break him down even more. But then Eddie turns to look at you and says, “Come, let me show you.”

Eddie visiting the place where he spent the first few years of his life turns into him giving you a surprisingly pleasant tour of the grounds. He recounts the other people that lived there, the rooms he wasn’t allowed into. How there used to be a soda machine here, and how sometimes the older kids would ask him to get them some cans for free, because his arms were small and skinny enough to just sneak them out the bottom.

It’s easy to skim the surface of this place like this.

To make it about showing you around instead of sinking down past the layers of self-protection that would have him walking around here with wobbly legs.

Yea.

This is easier. Better.

All of the doors are locked, but it doesn’t take much more than a good shove of a shoulder for the locks to give way. For the wood of the doorframes to splinter.

“Entering the Forest Hills way.” Eddie grins, and you suppress a smile. It’s a lie. Forest Hills is full of all honest, all hard-working people. But, it’s still a trailer park, and thus, the joke is funny.

Without much care, Eddie easily manages to open every door he comes across. It’s dark everywhere you go, none of the lights work, but the streetlights out front provide you with plenty of it, and your eyes quickly adjust.

Eddie shows you the laundry. Breaks into a little back office. A supply closet. Some other motel rooms - some that had semi-permanent guests staying there too, just like he used to be one. And some that would have overnight guests that didn’t know about the draft that would make the door slam so hard, you’d lose your fingers if they got caught in between.

It’s almost joyful, how Eddie talks about his memories. He hasn’t got many, he was so young, but every time he comes across something he remembers, he seems pleasantly surprised at his brain’s ability to bring it all back to him.

But then, when you eventually stop outside room number five, he pauses.

Stops.

Stares at the doorknob.

You can feel how his entire demeanor changes, and even though it’s painful to witness, you know that this is why you came here. This is the whole reason you drove all the way out here.

Eddie takes a good, deep breath but doesn’t move otherwise. Just keeps his eyes locked on a rusty old doorknob to a locked door of a room that probably looks exactly like all the other ones Eddie had already shown you.

“Is this where you lived?” you ask, doing your best to make your voice sound as neutral as possible. You don’t want to scare him off. Don’t want to trigger something.

Eddie nods, a barely-there up and down movement of his head, and then he goes for the doorhandle, rattles it weakly.

Keeps staring at it.

“Door’s locked.” He croaks, like that had been a problem for any of the other doors.

But it does make sense.

You understand that the person who opened up all those other doors was Eddie in his thirties, showing you around.

The person staring at the doorknob now, was Eddie as a child.

Afraid to go inside, unsure of what he was going to find there.

Not strong enough.

Maybe only just tall enough to even reach.

But, you were strong.

You had witnessed how a little force had gone a long way with these locks, and after giving Eddie a second to maybe ask for help, because God, you really wanted him to realize he could just ask for help, he doesn’t ask for shit, and you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Before Eddie even registers you taking a few steps back to get a running start, the wood of the door has already split from the blow of your shoulder.

“Oh my G–” Eddie jumps, both arms reaching out to grab at you and to pull you close. He makes sure he holds you where you ran into the door, large palm cupping over the curve of your shoulder, and he rubs the skin there. Which helps, because, you’re not really hiding the fact that Jesus fuck that fucking hurt very well.  

Despite the sting, there’s a moment where you both see the humor in what just happened, and looking at each other, you both let huffs of laughter escape you.

“Are you crazy? What you do that for, huh?” Eddie pretend scolds.

You shrug, “Forest Hills way.”  

The comedic relief is so welcome, but it’s short-lived. You see from up close how Eddie’s expression drops. He goes from looking at his insane girlfriend with all the love he’s got for her spilling from his eyes, to looking over your head into the dark room where he used to live, and it all slips away.

You wait by the door.

Want Eddie to do this alone because you think it’ll be better that way.

You also truly don’t know what to do, so it feels a little safer to just… wait outside. You wouldn’t know how to help anyway.

Just like when you were outside of Wayne’s trailer, it feels a little invasive to look at Eddie as he silently takes slow steps inside and looks around. At the same time, you can’t really look away. If he’s going to break down and fall to his knees, you want to be there within a second to pick him back up.

Eddie trails slow fingers along a dresser.

Takes careful steps towards a nightstand of which he opens and then closes the drawer.

“Huh…” he comments. Looks around the full room again, sees it in different light as he stands in another corner, the lights from outside showing him different parts of the room.

He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before he steps back out, and he looks… confused.

Surprised, maybe. A little dumbfounded.

He gives the room another glance, and then turns to find you watching him in silence.

“This is really weird,” Eddie comments, both eyebrows raised.

“Yea? How so?”

“I don’t know… it’s different. It’s not like I remember. I think… I don’t know, I think my mind made this room the most terrible place ever in the world, but it’s just… it’s just a room. There’s nothing…” Eddie twirls on the spot, “Yea, it’s just a room. Nothing’s… nothing is scary.”

You swallow audibly, and hesitate before you speak.

“It’s not scary.” Eddie concludes again before you can say anything, and he raises both shoulders at you in a long shrug, like he’s trying to convince you that it’s all right.

You’re not the one who needs convincing though.

“Is, um…” you start, and you clear your throat, entirely unsure of how Eddie is going to react to your question.

After visiting Wayne, you think he gets it now.

He gets why you took him back to Indiana.

Eddie has let his eyes fall on a weird piece of wall art he doesn’t remember, something that maybe they added to the room after his parents had been kicked out, and he’d been taken away to go live somewhere safer.

“Is he here?”

“Huh?”

“Is he in here, somewhere?”

It takes a moment of Eddie looking at you before he fully registers what you’re talking about.

His gaze drifts towards the closet next to the bathroom door.

It’s shut. Both bifold doors closed.

Eddie stalls for a moment, and then he raises an arm to open one of the doors before he drops it by his side again.

The closet’s empty.

It seemingly comes from nowhere, the way your lips suddenly quiver. How your eyes well up with tears so quickly. You have to cover your mouth with your hand to remain silent; this isn’t about you.

Eddie is slowly taking it all in, looks around the inside of the closet. The stains in the carpet. The peeling wallpaper. The mismatched hangers, a couple plastic ones amongst a couple more wire ones. And then he looks up and finds the the little yellowed piece of string that hangs down from way up high.

He reaches up and pulls it.

An audible click is heard.

Nothing changes though.

No light springs on.

Eddie pulls it again. Softly smiles. Pulls it a couple more times.

Click, click.

Click, click.

Nothing happens.

You’re about to burst with a violent sob when you see how Eddie, entirely in his own thoughts, inside of his own memories, slowly steps into the closet and closes the door behind him.

You hear the clicking of the light a couple more times, and need to step away.  

It’s too much.

The visuals of a tiny little malnourished Eddie hiding in a closet unable to reach the string of the light in there is going to make you hyperventilate if you’re not careful, so you have to take a walk.

It’s fucking freezing but hot tears trail down your cheeks as you hurry back to your rental car.

It doesn’t take much longer for Eddie to step outside, leaving the place where he spent the first few years of his life. His long legs carry him over to you quickly.

You can tell that he’s holding back sobs until he’s close enough to crash himself into you.

Arms wrap so tightly, they almost hurt. Bodies wrack with silent sobs until deep breaths calm the both of you down.

It takes a good while.

Eddie is first to pull back, and whilst cupping your face, both his thumbs wiping underneath your eyes in a bid to rid you of your tears, he manages to squeak, “Found him.”

“Yea?” you ask wetly. Hopeful.

This is why you came out here.

To find the small version of Eddie who, even as a toddler, knew that calling out for help was a waste of time because the calls would go unanswered.

To take him home.

“Turned on the–” Eddie throat closes up before he can even say it.

“Turned on the light for him?” you finish for him, and he just nods as he presses his lips together to keep them from wobbling.

Eddie goes in for another hug, hides his face in the side of your neck and grounds himself there.

You can feel how he’s actively trying to steady his own breathing.

It works, eventually.

“Did you…” you start, still holding him, but falter for a moment.

“Did I what?” Eddie asks, sniffing loudly, pulling back after you nudge your nose into his hair.

“Did you take him with you?”

It’s such a silly question. Eddie can’t help the smile that carefully plays at the corner of his mouth, and his eyebrows scrunch up as he looks down at you. He can dissect the question that pops up in the back of his brain for the fourth time today another time. How can he even begin to figure out why he deserves someone like you in his life?

“I did.” He confirms, and you let the breath you were holding escape you in a shudder.

He doesn’t think he deserves you.

“Good.” you smile, and maybe things are starting to look up, a little. Maybe the universe is slowly starting to make amends with Eddie. Is starting to apologize for all the shit it put little Eddie through in this godforsaken place no one should spend more than a single night at.

“Let’s take him home then.”

Eddie cries.

Thought he was done, but he’s not.

He lets you press kisses to the skin just underneath his eyes as he closes them.

He lets you open the car door and help him into the passenger’s seat.

Lets you drive all the way back to Wayne’s whilst he cries, because this is the second time little Eddie makes this trip, from the motel to Forest Hills. But this time he’s not scared.

He knows he’s going to go to a better place.

A safer place.

To a person who will try his very best hand at proper damage control. Who’s got a nice trailer, and a room that will get turned into his own bedroom three days into his stay.

To a person who will join Eddie in the closet for those first few nights. Who will just bring him food in there, have their dinner hidden away together, and who won’t force him out.

Who will play silly games with him in there, until the trips to the bathroom feel safe enough to do on his own.

There’s never other people in the trailer.

Just them.

Safe.

Eddie cries as he remembers more. Thought he had forgotten almost everything, but he remembers so much. He can’t talk about anything yet. Not now. His voice won’t let him. But that’s okay. You’ve got the radio on and need to focus on the road, and you’re taking him back to Wayne, and all he really wants to do is sleep.

And you just drive, and hold Eddie’s hand as he clings to you, and this is good.

It’s good.

Little Eddie deserves the fucking world.

You think so.

And you know of a handful of people who would wholeheartedly agree.

Slowly, you think Eddie might start to understand where you’re coming from.

He was never okay and happy and fine.

Still isn’t okay and happy and fine.

But the light has been switched on.

There’s light now.

He might one day be okay and happy and fine, and that’s something that before today was the most difficult thing to grasp.

“We’re taking you home, kiddo. I got you.�� Eddie whispers, soft enough so only he can hear it over the engine and the music coming from the radio.

“Let’s go home.”

---

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Add yourself

[holylulusworld]

Roll the dice (Prologue)

Summary: You’re in trouble, and it’s all your fault.

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warnings: mafia au, angst, mentions of criminal activities, mentions of sickness, mentions of stealing, scared reader, bruises

You’re in trouble, and it’s all your fault.

Stealing from your boss wasn’t the smartest move. Even though you had no other choice.

If you hadn’t taken the money from him, your grandmother would’ve died.

She doesn’t have insurance and needed a life-saving surgery. You worked your ass off, juggling three jobs a day, only to not make ends meet.

When the doctor told you they were going to release your grandmother from the hospital to die, you had to do something—anything.

For only a moment, you lost your mind and did something you’d never have done if not for your grandmother. The woman raising you.

“Ah, there she is,” your boss chuckles when his right-hand man, the one everyone calls executioner, drags you inside his office. The man leans back in his expensive chair, legs spread wide as he runs his hands up and down his thighs. “Where did you hide, little runaway?”

You whimper, feeling another bruise form on your arm, joining the ones the executioner painted your body with. His hands are still covered in the blood of the poor motel owner who dared to try to stop him.

“Got her, Steve,” the man chasing you like feral dogs says as he pushes you toward your boss. Steven Grant Rogers. Stone-cold businessman in public, and merciless mafia boss in the shadows. “Tell me if you want me to get rid of the remnants.”

Sniffling, you surrender to faith. They don’t know about the reasons for your betrayal, and your grandmother is safe. An old friend agreed to take her in and care for her. She was always more than a good friend to your granny, and you know, she’ll keep her word.

Rogers rises from his seat to tower over you. He lifts your chin with his index finger to force you to look into your executioner’s eyes. “So, tell me, was it worth it stealing from me? Did you buy shiny things, a car maybe?”

“She didn’t have anything of value with her. Her car is a wreck, and she got kicked out of her apartment. The rat was hiding at the shadiest motel you can imagine.”

“Buck,” your boss nods. “Thank you for the input. Please bring me the box over there.” Steve says, still holding your gaze. He searches your face, enjoying the fear in your eyes and how your lips tremble.

“Got it,” Bucky gets a little black box. Instead of handing it to your boss, he places it in front of you. “I hope you enjoy the last moments of your life, little rat.” He chuckles before leaving the room.

“You know, I’m a player.” Steve flashes you a smile, but it doesn’t reach his cold blue eyes. “Rats like you have two options. You can accept your fate, and I’ll kill you fast, or you can open the box and take whatever punishment you’ll find inside.”

“What?” You furrow your brows. Steve Rogers will kill you either way. There is not a chance he’ll show mercy and let you go.

“I like to play,” he repeats. “I only play with people who didn’t steal from me for themselves or selfish reasons,” Steve smirks when you whimper again. “I know about your grandmother and where I can find her.”

You suck in a breath. “Please, I’ll do anything. Torture me, kill me. I don’t care.” You cry. “She didn’t know. I swear, Granny believes I got a promotion. Please…” You beg and plead.

“Well then, choose the box, and I’ll shelter your grandmother’s life,” he snarls. “If not, she’ll die with you tonight.”

Steve hides that he doesn’t kill grannies. He has standards and rules.

With trembling fingers, you open the box. All that you find is a red dice. It doesn’t look different from the ones you handled at the casino, though.

“Oh, the dice?” He smirks darkly and crouches down to cup your face. “You got lucky, doll. If you get a six, you are free to go.”

“What about the other numbers?” You whisper, afraid to speak louder. “Sir?”

“Every other number means fun for me,” he laughs as you make a face. “Go ahead, doll. Roll the dice.”

You grab the dice and roll it without thinking twice. Holding your breath, you watch it land on…

If you want to read more, we see us in 2025…

Tags in reblog.

[siri-ike]

The last couple of years have been good to Danny... too good, apparently. He'd accidentally joined a gang, beat up so many would be r**ists, made cops look like fools (an easy feat when you have ghost powers;) and he learned how to properly format an excel spreadsheet. Why, now of all times, did shit have to hit the fan?

There were clues well before Danny realized someone was after him. Hightened ghost activity, all the letters he couldn't read because they were cursive, the occasional horse-drawn carriage becoming him inside. But when a neon green sticky note appeared in a puff of smoke, right in front of his face. That's when he knew Clockwork wanted his attention. Which always means disaster.

That morning, Danny followed his usual routine. He went to the same coffee place, got the same order (sweet tea, a late with 3 sugars and a bagel with jam) and he brought it to the boss just as he was about to bash someone's skull in. He was such a calm and kind natured man but was somehow always in a bad mood before Danny got there.

Even though he never removed his mask, Danny could tell Red Hood was smiling when he looked his way. Not the sadistic way he was smiling before he came in. This was a pleasant smile. Amazing what a cup of coffee can do.

Even though he hid it, Danny knew The Red Hood loves routine. Not just the exact same breakfast and 8 am. sharp every morning for 2 years. He had also ridden the same beat-up motorcycle and used the same gun the whole time they had known each other. He always sat down to read between the hours of 1 pm and 2 pm, then again from 8 pm to 9 pm. And despite clearly preferring to be up at night, he seemed to do everything during the day (as if out of spite).

Safe to say, he wasn't going to appreciate the request Danny had to make.

08:06 am

Hood had ordered his goons to leave. That was another routine. He liked to eat alone. At least, that's how he worded it, but he never seemed to want Danny gone. And so, he did as always; recited the list of things that need to be dealt with in order of importance. A lot of it was kind of depressing. Greedy businesses displacing orphans, a lab infecting animals with degenerative diseases, someone's been stealing wheelchairs and two other gangs plan to have a shoot out at a playground. After that, it was less important things like a meeting with the Don, a suspected traitor, and some kids were cought dealing weed and amphetamines. Slow news day.

A pit forms in Danny's stomach. There's no more putting it off. He takes a deep breath.

But that was enough to get his attention.

"Something wrong?" You wouldn't expect a crime boss to have such a soothing voice.

Danny diffencively grabbed his own arm. He knew it was a sign of distress, and he knew Hood could tell. But Danny's always been such a terrible liar. "I, ih, " He stammered. "I need" in... and out. "I need to take some time off." You could have heard a pin drop.

Finally, Hood spoke. "Are you in danger? Do you need protection?" There was genuine concern in his voice. How could someone so kind be so feared?

Of course, Danny couldn't tell him the real reason (he didn't know the real reason), but he did eventually convince Red to give him one week before checking in. He's so lucky to have a boss who cares so much.

On his way out, 18 different goons begged him to stay. He didn't know them. It wasn't even an organized effort. Each one was alone. He reassured them he'd most likely be back in less than a week, but they still tried to stop him.

It's not like he's worried either, Red Hood can more than take care of himself. Most of what Danny does is just personal assistant stuff, mixed in with a little "crime" sometimes. Plus, with how sweet Hood is, those goons have nothing to worry about.

He hadn't even exited their base when he heard what could only be the sound of a horse-drawn carriage emerging from green fire. (Green ghost fire makes a distinct hot screaming noise, unlike blue ghost fire, which sounds more like a sad scream or red, which sounds like angry botulism). Opening the door confirms his expectations. The same distinct horses as before, too. A bone horse and shadow horse in the front, a scrawny flesh horse and glowing white horse in the back. A short ghost in a fancy but old looking suit held the carriage door open. Danny took a deep breath and put on a brave face (or at least that's what he was going for)

It took mere seconds for them to dissappear from infront of the red hoods base and appear infront of a giant purple castle in the ghost zone. He'd say it looks haunted, but... yeah. He barely stepped out of the carriage before another short, well-dressed ghost opened the front doors.

Inside was Frostbite. The relief must have shown on his face because the yeti was clearly expecting a warm embrace. Frostbite may be covered in furr, and he may have a warm personality, but he is cold to the touch. Danny doesn't care, though. If he wanted heat, he'd put his arms around that piece of hot nope nope, Danny, that is your boss! Get those thoughts out of your head this instant!

"My boy! My how you've grown. Why, you're almost my size." Frostbite said, holding Danny in one arm.

Danny didn't acknowledge the lie. He looks up from where he had buried his face in Frostbites shoulder. "Do you know what this is all about? I assumed the creepy letters were from Walker, but then Clockwork sent a note." He sat up on Frostbites forearm like a parrot. "I know I haven't exactly been a law-abiding citizen lately, but what do ghosts care?" He confessed, far too openly.

Frosbite chuckled. "You think you're in trouble, young one? No, my liege." He placed the halfa down. "It has been 10 years since you defeated Pariah Dark, and no one has taken your title from you. It is time you take your rightful place on the throne." Frostbites eyes shined with pride, and his hands encompassed Danny's whole torso.

Danny couldn't believe it. He came to the ghost zone expecting to get arrested, proposed to, or challenged to a duel of some sort.

Not this.

Ok it’s not like I go here really, but I’ve been reading a bunch of DPxDC recently because it’s very good, and I had an idea that won’t go anywhere

The various gangs in Gotham have callsigns/uniforms or something right??? If not, they should, and imma say they do. Anyway. Redhood I think didn’t think too hard about what people in his gang on his turf should wear for identification purposes, but they sure did. And what they came up with was Red.

Wearing red in the vicinity of the ‘Bad Part’ of Gotham?? Part of the red hood gang. Generally head gear is the preferred method of wearing red. Red hats and beanies, red head scarfs and hijabs, red headbands, red masks. The idea has been communicated. To a certain point, wearing red even if you aren’t officially part of the gang is a great way to get an in with them, or be under protection if you’re the right age in the right area, as long as you’re willing to risk getting roped into low stakes gang activity, which can range from working the counter at money laundering sites to community service (guarding clinics and shelters and volunteering) to making deliveries to destroying certain hostile architecture. (Hood saves the real jobs with cops and shootings and turf disputes for actual members, that he knows the names faces and skills of, and who are at least above 18, but preferably over 20, and who wear real gear he supplies them with, not just whatever’s in their closet that’s red) (this does not entirely stop the smaller ‘members’ from getting into their own fights with the cops and turf wars, but Jason has found that giving them Something to do that feels like direct action helps curb those tendencies. And it’s not like those things aren’t things that don’t need doing, so it’s a win win. Mostly)

Danny, bless him, does not know any of this. But has been staying in the sketchier areas of Gotham because that’s where people don’t care how old you are or if your papers are real or not, and he absolutely does not want people looking into how old he is and wether his papers are real or not. He is also wearing an inadvisable and vaguely conspicuous amount of red. His converse are red, his signature baseball tee is white and red, and his hoodie is also red.

Clearly, this kid (he’s like 17) really wants in with the hood gang.

And eventually, they oblige him.

Random people will approach Danny and ask/tell him that them and a couple others are going somewhere to do (insert vaguely/definitely illegal job or act of community service here) and Danny, who is deeply directionless in life currently, and also pretty assured in his ability to eat danger for breakfast, and has never met an institutional authority he doesn’t disrespect at least a little bit, is totally down for some civil disobedience and chaotic good shenanigans.

And then it spirals from there. Like. A worrying amount.

It takes Danny actual months, almost a year, to realize that he’s been low key slow cooked into the criminal underbelly of Gotham, and like… he’s not really mad about it?? Honestly if he had a choice when he came to Gotham, he probably would have picked the redhood gang anyway. He just seems to vibe with them on a… Spiritual Level…

Hm

Anyway

Years go by, and while Danny doesn’t have the most going for him in terms of a normal person life, vis a vis higher education, official employment, health insurance, dating life, or any other benchmark one uses to measure the trajectory of their lives— Danny’s feeling pretty good! Jazz, Tucker, and Sam have all finagled their ways into Gotham, (Tucker has a WE internship, Jazz is working/doing work studies at Arkham, Sam does what she likes now that she is a legal adult and has her inheritance, and what she likes is environmental activism, and occasionally being spotted with fellow activist Damian Wayne, and someone who may or may not be poison ivy, sources differ) and Danny finds his obsession suspiciously well served as a hood goon. Hood hench? Redgoon? Hench hood?? Name pending, who cares.

Danny is also suspiciously good at, well, his job. One of the best runners, even when he gets caught and frisked they never seem to find the goods on him (they never do check IN him, but then why would they) very well liked at every volunteer spot they have, patient, kind, funny, good with old people, kids, bitter people, addicts and the homeless, the sick and injured. And yet also very competent in the field, when they finally let him do actually dangerous things. Act as protection detail to the working girls in the red light district, he’s very respectful, and very good at intimidation, de-escalation, and when push comes to shove, excellent in a fight. Knows when to keep pressing his advantage and when to make a retreat with whoever he’s guarding. Not afraid to fight scrappy, and presses through pain and fear like a true gothmite.

He gets so good at his not really a job job that he becomes essentially, Redhoods right hand man.

The rest of the bats are skeptical of this for several reasons. Because generally speaking, the people in Jason’s turf are not fans of the bats, but Jason does a lot of coordinating with them, and someone so close to him is going to pick that up eventually if they’re half as sharp and useful as Danny is. Other than that, secret identity issues, plus pit rage, plus the fact that Jason trusts pretty much nobody. But Jason has great feelings about this guy, he always feels more clear headed and even keeled when he’s around, and he helps Jason remember the community he’s trying to build, and the community he serves. Also he delegates and mother hens like nobody’s business, but Jason just really can’t seem to work up too much irritation about it.

It is around this time, however, that the past, and shady government organizations come knocking.

Perhaps the GIW has also noticed how ecto-contaminated and lawless Gotham is and decided that they could start doing research and experiments with its live and undead denizens instead of amity, where the portal has closed, and ghost activity is down since phantom disappeared. Or maybe the GIW has finally located phantom specifically and is interested in what they’re always interested in. Or maybe it’s various ghosts harassing Danny to take up the throne, which he’s been avoiding successfully, but having settled into a life routine that suites him his core has finally ‘settled’ (halfa cores fluctuate more than other cores due to the transient nature of being alive, but halfa people settle into lifelong patterns and relationships quicker than other people because of the static nature of being dead) he is mature enough by ghost standards to assume the throne, or at least begin preparing for it.

Regardless, danny is being tracked down for his childhood baggage’s extended warranty, and brings the entirety of the JL and almost all associated sidekicks, hero group spin-offs, and organizations into the thick of it.

Idk. I just got through Secretary Danny by DeathlySilent13 on ao3 and I thought man oh man wouldn’t it be neat if Danny got to be Jason’s second in command instead??? That could open up a lot of avenues I haven’t seen yet. I’m also just very curious about how the Jason’s runs his gang according to the fandom, and I think that with all the ACAB energy Danny has been assigned, he should have a little bit of community focused organized crime. As a treat. Like I said I don’t go here thou, I just needed to put this somewhere and see if it vibed with anybody besides me

[ur-local-wizard]

A Lucky Christmas

A seemingly innocent and thoughtful gift turns out to have an unexpected surprise.

heheh more fluff! (Can you tell its my fav to write?), love triangle, lots of impulsivity, slight(?) drugging, mattheo and theo being absolutely whipped, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, theo nott x fem!reder

w/c: 1k

masterlist

a/n: so sorry this took forever to post! got sick and barely got time to sleep between puking sessions, much less write.... ANYWAY, shout out to @leona-hawthorne for proof reading for me!

Mattheo didn’t know how he got himself into this situation. He knew he and Y/n were staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. He stayed at school simply to avoid his father, but she refused to give her reason why she decided to stay. The whole thing was weird, especially because she usually looked forward to going home and spending time with her family. 

A few days into break, Y/n wanted to help the house elves decorate the Great Hall, and somehow she and her irresistible smile got him to come with her. So imagine his surprise when Theo, of all people, walks into the hall, ready to help her out too. Mattheo didn’t even know that the Italian was staying as well. Did she ask him to help too?

This girl just has the two of them wrapped around her little finger, and she’s so oblivious to that fact that it’s almost infuriating. 

So now, the three are scurrying around the huge room, hanging tinsel and putting ornaments on the huge tree. Y/n is occupied with draping garland made of popcorn and cranberries across the evergreen’s branches, with the help of some house elves. Mattheo and Theo got stuck with the job of sorting through old ornaments, with the instructions to throw away any broken baubles they might find. However, a wooden one caught Mattheo’s eye. It was engraved with y/n’s favorite flower, and it was just the perfect gift to give to the girl. 

“Psst, Theo,” the brunette hissed, looking around to make sure no one else was within ear shot. Theo turned around, an eyebrow raised. He hummed inquisitively. “You think we can give this to Y/n? She would like this, right?” Mattheo asked, passing the trinket. “You’re better at all the sentimental stuff than me.”

Theo inspected the ornament, nodding. “I think she would. Good find.” He nudged the brunette’s shoulder before waving a house elf over. 

The elf assured the two boys that they never use the ornament anyways, and so Theo shoved it in his pocket. “I’ll go put this in our dorm. We’re almost done here anyway, so you guys shouldn’t miss me much. If Y/n asks, just tell her that I’ll see her at dinner, yeah?” 

Mattheo noded, and the rest of the time spent decorating flew by. He ended up regretting his decision to help, solely because he didn’t get many chances to be with Y/n. He figured the elves must’ve loved torturing him.

By the time Mattheo got back to his dorm, Theo was pacing around. The Italian had the wooden trinket in his hand, holding it in a vice-like grip. 

“You good?” Mattheo asked him, to which Theo responded, “Yeah. Fine. Just jittery. Where's Y/n?”

The brunette gave him a questioning look, but responded nonetheless. “Don’t know for sure, but I would assume her dorm. She said she was tired when we left.” Theo nodded in response, and set the ornament he was holding down, quickly racing out of the shared space. He looked jittery and oddly excited, uncharacteristic of the Italian. 

However, Mattheo decided to shrug it off. He picked up the trinket, turning it over in his hands to examine it. This compulsive curiosity began to morph into a full-blown exploration, his mind focused on the girl this gift was meant for. Suddenly, an abrupt wave of confidence washed over him, making him feel unusually warm and tingly. 

He set the bauble down, eyes flitting toward the door. Maybe he would go and talk to Y/n too, just to have a little chat. Or better yet, he could admit how he feels. He’s had a thing for her for forever, his mind never failing to wander to more romantic places when in her presence. 

His feet moved on his own, carrying him through the castle and to her dorm; and before he knew it, his fist was knocking on her door. It swung open, and he was greeted by a fond smile spreading on her lips when she saw him. He stepped inside, and wasn’t surprised when he saw Theo standing in the room as well.

“Are you here for what I think you are?” Mattheo asked the other boy, to which Theo nodded. “Mhm. I just told her I love her.” 

The other boy’s bluntness surprised Mattheo a bit, since indelicate and direct comments were usually the brunette’s forte. It must just be an odd day. 

“Well,” Mattheo gently took Y/n’s hand, getting her attention, “I feel the same way about you that Theo does. I love you, darling. You’ve been such a bright light in my life.”

Her eyes went wide with surprise, and she went still. Mouth floundering a bit, the girl struggled to form a response. The boys noticed and chuckled, Theo reassuring her. “I'm not sure about Mattheo, but I know I’m not going to make you choose. I just want a chance.” 

Mattheo nodded in agreement. “God no, I wouldn’t dream of putting you through that stress.” Y/n relaxed a bit at that comment, but she was still a bit weary, due to their odd and overly impulsive behavior. 

“You guys are always a bit reckless, Mattheo especially.” She gives him a little nudge. “But what’s up with you two?” 

They both shrug. “Dunno. Just got you this present, which made me think about you a ton. I guess thinking about you so much made me want to tell you?” Theo guesses. “I felt the same way. Hey- did you get that weird rush when you held it too?” Mattheo queried, now invested. 

“Weird rush? What, was it laced with liquid luck?” Y/n asks with a laugh, albeit a slightly apprehensive one. Her comment earned shocked looks from the boys, quickly followed by laughter. 

“That’s it! I didn’t think much of the weird giddiness, though I should have,” Theo said between laughs.

“Nor of the sudden rush of confidence,” Mattheo agrees, his shoulders shaking with amusement. “We should get her a new gift, huh?” 

Theo nodded in agreement, and the group laughed about it for a while. The boys certainly didn’t hear the end of their accidental potion mishap for quite some time, Y/n teasing them about it relentlessly.

Thank you all for your patience while I've been sick! I'm not too happy with this, but I needed to get it out lollll <3

tag list: @ilovejamespottersomuch @mattyriddlesbitch @valenftcrush @sturniolover13 @paankhaleyaaar @thereeallink

©ur-local-wizard translating, republishing, copying, or claiming my work as yours is not permitted. all my work belongs to me and me only. thank you!

[peachsukii]

✮ content. just a fleeting little softie sunday thought and switching it up with midoriya today. fluff, no warnings + not proof-read. 💗

Running through an airport isn’t how you expected to be spending your New Years, but here you are, desperately barreling through the crowd hopelessly in search of the love of your life. The scene is straight out of a romcom, the stereotypical holiday mad dash as you bolt from the cab the second it reaches the drop off area at the “Departures” wing. You’re not even fully sure it came to a stop before you threw the door open and hit the ground running.

All because of him.

It started with a missed call, something you’d never think twice about. When the ‘Voicemail’ notification appeared so after, that’s when you knew something was off. Midoriya never left messages whenever you missed his calls in this past, he’d more often than not send you a quick text instead. A voicemail meant something serious, something he couldn’t bare to be told through simple words on a screen. He wanted you to hear what he had to say.

“Hey!” Midoriya greets in his usual happy-go-lucky tone. It quickly dissolves into something sadder, almost regretful, as he spoke. “I’m sorry to say this through a message. But, I’m leaving for a few months, maybe more. I didn’t have the heart to tell you — I couldn’t tell you. And I just…” he pauses for a moment. In the background, announcements regarding flight times and schedule updates can be heard. He sighs and simply says, “I’m sorry” before the line disconnects.

And that was it.

You tried to call him back, multiple times, with no success. Midoriya stares at his screen each time you call him, watching your contact picture appear and fade repeatedly. His heart sinks, but he needs to do this. He can't risk having you put your life on hold for him, no matter how badly he wants you to. He can't bring himself to be selfish when it comes to you. But there is no way in hell you were letting your best friend get away with this disappearing act.

You're booking it to the closest ticketing counter at the airport, rocking back and forth on your heels as you wait in line. You don’t even know where he’s going, or what terminal he could be in…until you remember that his shared location should still be active. A few clicks later and you've got it - terminal 27. From the looks of the schedule on the screens above the counter, you've got time until that plane begins boarding, 36 minutes to be exact.

One plane ticket and the longest 15 minutes in the security line later, you're skipping through the airport, dodging stray luggage and unsupervised children like an Olympic sport. By the time you reach terminal 27, you've got 12 minutes left to find him. Thankfully, even in a sea of people, you can spot that shade of green from a mile away.

"Izuku!" You shout while pushing through the crowd. Midoriya swings around at the sound of your voice, his heart cannonballing into his stomach at the reality of his situation. He can't avoid you now, there's nowhere for him to run. There's panic etched in his face as you approach his personal space.

"W-what are you doing here?!" He exclaims, trying to control his emotions as you approach him. "How did you find me?"

You give him a stern, yet playful glare. "Your location is on."

His lips curl into a sly smile, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're sneaky."

"You were really gonna leave without saying goodbye?!" You spout with frustration as you poke his chest, a pout on your lips. "On New Years, too. Where the hell are you even going?"

Midoriya frowns, looking away and out the window before returning his gaze to you. "Aizawa signed me up for an international teaching program and I got accepted. I'll be in the states for...three-ish months."

Your arms cross over your chest defensively. "And you couldn't tell me because...?"

"I..." he pauses. "I knew you'd wanna come with me, and you just got that amazing promotion at work...I didn't want you to throw it all away."

The fact you can't even fight his logic pisses you off, but makes your heart pound against your ribs in the same breath. A forced smile crosses over your lips. "So...three months?"

He nods. "Yeah."

There's a brief silence between you two, filled by the sounds of children scuffing their sneakers on the floor and suitcase wheels squeaking obnoxiously.

'Flight 276 for Los Angeles, CA in Terminal 27 will now begin boarding.'

You're running out of time, casually letting Midoriya slip through your fingers like granules of sand in an hourglass.

"Then you owe me dinner when you come back. A nice one."

The emeralds in Midoriya's eyes gleam with hope as a shiver runs down his spine at your words. His chest feels tighter, his palms sweaty while he thinks of something to say. "That's fair. I promise."

"Damn right it is." You can't help but laugh, but it fades as the announcement for his boarding group echoes through the area a second time. "Call me once in a while from your fancy teaching seminars, okay?"

"I will." He stands there for a moment before reaching out to you, one of his hands gently gripping your shoulder. His freckles are accentuated by the soft blush flaring on his cheeks. "It's a date."

"It's a date," you repeat back quietly. "But every day after the three month mark, you owe me another dinner."

A genuine, hearty laugh bubbles up in Midoriya's throat to accompany his cheesy smile. "Maybe I'll stay longer on purpose, more dates means more time with you." He gives you one final squeeze on your shoulder before turning toward the check in desk. You watch him until he's no longer in sight, disappearing to be whisked away to the new opportunities awaiting him overseas.

The countdown starts now — only 90 days for you to prepare yourself to confess to your best friend that you're madly in love with him.

thought of you two @izvmimi & @breakdawn-avenue while writing for this sweet little broccoli :) <3

『 #reis softie sundays 』

[nemesis-writer]

Crybaby

Masterlist TW- neglect, almost-suicide, suicidal thoughts

She stood on the bridge In silence and fear, For the demons of darkness Had driven her here.

So close to falling yet so far from succeeding, I latched on to the bar hoping to make my self let go from the shivering rain. But no, I just held on wishing that a brother or father of mine could save me.

They cut her heart Right out of her chest, Making her believe That the demons knew best.

They depth of my hatred for them goes farther than the deepest oceans and the farthest galaxies. I guess from this you can tell that my life has always been described as a poem from the darkest poets such as Edgar Poe, or darker than the ebony that coats the outside of the unknown galaxy.

I've always loved myself for it, yet I've always been hated for it. The Waynes could also be mentioned as the Addams' family with a loyal butler, multiple suicidal kids, and 'loving parents'. Yet unlike the Waynes, at least the Addams family aren't full of rage and loathesome creatures.

The demons of my life have come from the very same family that held me, hurt me, neglected me, and despised me for the rest of my days.

They were always there, Sometimes just out of sight, Waiting in the background Till the time was right.

Damian was always the one I expected to push myself through the buildings that were made for despair my whole life. Jason, would be considered the first one to have memories with since he's trying to avoid showing the wretched hatred my father has for me.

Tim, Cassandra, Stephanie, and Barbara considered me useless, unintelligent, and fatally naive to the outside world. Then there's Dick, the eldest, the role model, the possibly apple of dear old dad's eye, he on the other hand found me as a means to an end, who wouldn't?

Bruce, I was stupid to assume that we could connect as a father-daughter would. Every day he wished to send me back to the adoption center and nullify all the papers that was supposed to make me a Wayne.

These demons were destructive, Knocking down the life she knew, Hating everything about her; She hated herself, too.

The family that I was inured to, has stabbed, beaten, and thrown me away like an animal. I was considered more as a stray animal begging for love and attention. The human beings that I consider myself to be connected to is Alfred and Jesse. Alfred is the Lurch of this family while Jesse is another being that has kept me from losing sanity in this jail they call home.

I got lucky to graduate just in time before I let myself drown from neglect. But sadly we can't simply run away from the demons we bear.

These demons can't be seen, But they're far from fairy tales. They live inside your mind; Their evilness prevails.

People thought I'm crazy for being ungrateful of this life, my words are deemed fraudulent. But my appearance is out of order, my clothing is ragged, my hair remains dry and bristling, my body now shows malnourishment and scars from my demons. Yet, my eyes remained the same, broken, in front of the face I was gifted to be beautiful became a mask for the truth, my face was meant to be scarred.

I've never felt the scars go deeper yet I never minded of it. But as I was about to let go of the bars that held my fear in it I heard a voice.

"Hello lady what are you doing?"

It was a voice of a little five year old girl.

"Just enjoying the rain little one. Where are your parents at?"

"I don't have any, I just like being alone."

I jumped over the bar back to the bridge, looking at her with sadness.

"Want me to take you back to the center?"

"Suree, Thank youuu!", She giggled.

And we went on our way back.

So on the bridge she stood, About to end the fight. Then she stopped and thought I'll fight them one more night.

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e

[plumeria1]

A morning with Vi

Note : English is not my language. I can't believe my Jinx x Reader has passed 100 likes thank you so much 🥹

Pairing : Vi x fem reader

Warning : None

Summary : Vi and You have a morning talk.

Modern!au Vander and the others are alive (Vi was in jail for another reason, honestly I didn't think of anything)

The day Vi got out of prison, her sister Powder came to see her, and Vi was delighted to see her brilliant little sister in perfect health. She had grown so much. Vi was proud, soon Powder would be heading to university to pursue an engineering program.

Vi held Powder in her arms for a long moment, but when she stepped back, she saw you. She was so surprised, you, her best friend since childhood, were there. You had confessed your feelings to each other one month before her arrest, you had promised to wait for her and you kept your promise.

That night, she didn't leave your side for a second; it was a long moment full of tenderness, your hands exploring each other's bodies all night long.

You spent a long time admiring her tattoos, running your hand over them and and kissing her freckles.

You didn't let go of each other, spending the whole night cuddling and talking about everything and nothing. She had told you everything that had happened in prison.

Since that day, she had moved into the small apartment you shared with Powder, and you never left each other's side.

1 year later :

After another passionate night, you had once again pushed the blanket to the foot of the bed. You lay in Vi's arms, her head resting on your chest as she always did, one of her legs was draped between yours and her fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm.

Vi lifted her head from your shoulder and looked at you with a tender smile. You look at her curiously.

-Why are you smiling ?

-Because I realized something.

-Oh really? And what is it ?

-Well, every time we make love, you always push the blanket to the foot of the bed.

You laughed, knowing it was true.

-It's because of you, you're too warm. And you do things like that too.

-Really?

-Yes, you always put your head on my chest and stay there for some minutes without saying a word. I want to know why.

Vi sighed, closing her eyes, as if debating wether to answer.

-It reassures me. When I was in prison I was alone, so when I rest my head on you I listen to your heartbeat. It reminds me that you are here and it makes me feel better.

You placed your hand on her head, gently running your fingers through her hair.

-I thought you were going to say something silly, but actually, it's a very romantic way to say "I love you."

-I also do it because your breasts are soft and comfortable.

Your mouth fell open in mock outrage before both of you burst into laughter. Vi loved that sound more than anything.

-You know, when we make love, you do something that I love.

-Mm?

-It's when you scratch my back with your nails, it stings a bit but it means you like what I'm doing so it worth it.

-How could I not like it when you do that with your mouth?

-What do you mean by that ? She pretended not to understand.

-You know, when you-

A knock at the bedroom door cut you off. You sighed, starting to get up but Vi held you back.

-Don't go, let her knock.

From the outside of the door, Powder voice called out.

-Vi, open up, there's a package for you. You need to sign.

Vi groaned dramatically, reaching for her clothes scattered on the floor. She opened the door and turn you back with a little smile.

-Go back to sleep, I'll be right back.

You winked at her with a playful smile.

-I'll keep your spot warm.

She closes the door and you get back into bed, taking her place, and now, deprived of your girlfriend's warmth, you pull the warm blanket over yourself. As you fall asleep, you think about how lucky you were to have her in your life.

Thank for your reading 😉 I hope you liked it

[fatecantstopme]

All I Want Is You

Pairing: Tyler Owens x reader

Summary: Chasing tornadoes with the famous Tornado Wrangler is a dream come true, but falling in love with him wasn't exactly on your to-do list.

Warnings: Cursing, use of pet names, descriptions of tornadoes. SMUT, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), praise kink, light choking, spanking.

You groaned softly at the sound of plastic snapping from behind you. "Boone..."

You turned to see the man in question giving you a very sheepish look. He held up the broken antenna with a wince. "Sorry, (Y/N/N)."

You exhaled heavily. "This is why we can't have nice things."

A small smile danced on your lips as you took the antenna from him. You examined the base and determined it just needed a new coupler. An easy fix.

"Dani!" you called out.

Dani popped her head out from behind the camper. "Yo!"

"Can you get me a new coupler for this antenna, please?" You held up the broken item so Dani could see which one you were referring to.

"Yeah, one sec!"

You glanced at Boone, who still had a sheepish expression on his face. You shook your head slightly as you took a step towards him. "Don't worry about it--I won't tell Tyler."

Boone smiled. "I'm way more afraid of you than I am of Tyler."

"As you should be," you teased. "Gimme a hand?"

He reached out to steady you as you pulled yourself up into the bed of the truck and climbed onto the roof. Dani came over moments later with the replacement coupler. You set to work on fixing it before Tyler came back and asked what was going on.

"Any particular reason you're on top of my truck, darlin'?"

You froze as Tyler's voice washed over you from behind. You turned to look at him, noting the amused smile on his face. "Just making a quick adjustment."

He raised his eyebrows, his disbelief evident in the action. "I made adjustments not 20 minutes ago."

"Well I'm just making sure."

"Uh-huh."

You'd finished attaching the antenna, but you made a show of checking all the other attachments on top of the truck. "Hmm...everything looks good to me."

Tyler chuckled and shook his head. "Then get down from there before you hurt yourself."

You slid down into the truck bed and jumped off the edge onto the hard ground. Tyler's hand shot out to make sure you didn't fall. You shot him a pointed glare that clearly said I don't need your help, thank you very much.

"So you gonna tell me who broke something?"

"Never."

He laughed lightly and followed you to the camper where the rest of the team had gathered.

"How's the radar looking, Dex?" Tyler asked.

"We've got a nice looking cell popping up to the East. It'll probably hit within the next hour."

"Excellent."

Everyone turned to look towards the Eastern sky. You could plainly see the dark clouds rolling across the horizon, heralding the oncoming storm.

"Thoughts, Lightning?" Tyler asked softly, the nickname rolling off his tongue with ease.

"Smells like a good one," you murmured.

The team had long ago learned to trust your instincts when it came to the weather...even if your methods weren't exactly orthodox. Tyler always said you could feel a storm in your bones, and he wasn't wrong. It was as if Mother Nature herself spoke to you.

"Who needs science when we have (Y/N)?" Boone said with a grin.

You turned and shot him a warm smile, but it quickly faded as you caught sight of four vehicles pulling into the parking lot. "Fuck," you muttered.

The rest of the team followed your gaze and muttered their own varying expletives.

"Can't we just have one storm where those assholes don't show up?" Lily grumbled.

"We'd never be so lucky," you said with a sigh.

The six of you watched as men in polo shirts piled out of the vehicles. Each and every one of them wore the logo of the business on their shirts, just as each of the vehicles did.

"Howdy, Storm PAR," Tyler said in a mocking tone.

Most of the other team ignored him, but one of the younger members gave him a friendly wave.

A soft chuckle left your lips, echoed by the other members of your team.

You opened your mouth to make a joke, but your jaw clamped shut as Scott Miller, one of the founders of Storm PAR, started walking your way.

You felt Tyler tense beside you, and you could see the others doing the same out of the corner of your eye.

"(Y/N). Owens." Scott gave the two of you appraising looks. "Surprised to see you're still chasing together."

You pushed down every annoyed response you wanted to shoot at him, instead opting for what you hoped came across as cool indifference. "Can't see why you'd be surprised."

Scott shrugged. "You and I both know you're too smart to run with this bunch of hillbillies."

"Hey!" Boone yelled. "Watch it."

Tyler stepped forward, his expression calm, but his stance was protective. "No need for the name calling, Scott. (Y/N) can chase with whomever she wants to, but you can't be mad when it's not you."

Scott's expression darkened. "She and I both know which one of us is actually successful." He started to walk away, pausing only to throw one more insult over his shoulder. "The YouTube channel sure is cute though."

Tyler bristled, but you grabbed his arm to keep him from saying anything further. "Let it go, Tyler. He's not worth it."

Tyler exhaled slowly and nodded, turning back to the rest of the team. Each of them shared the same angry expression, and it upset you that someone you used to work with dared to speak to them this way.

"I'm sorry, guys."

"Nothing to be sorry for, (Y/N)," Lily said with a smile.

"Lily's right, that dude's an ass," Boone commented.

"An ass I used to work with," you muttered.

"We all make mistakes," Dexter said with a small smile. "Besides, you're here now."

Tyler nudged you with his shoulder. "They're right darlin', and so were you. He's not worth it."

You smiled. "Alright, alright. 'Nuff of this sappy shit." Your voice was light and teasing, and it made the rest of the team smile. "We've got a storm to chase, don't we?"

"Yes ma'am," Boone said.

"You heard her. Let's get a move on," Tyler added.

**********

Thirty minutes later, you'd all piled into your respective vehicles and headed off to chase yet another storm. Radar still showed the cell to the East was looking promising and you'd confirmed it.

You could tell by Tyler's expression he was disappointed you'd chosen to ride with Lily instead of him. Boone had been more than happy to ride shotgun with Tyler and you'd muttered something about needing to drive so Lily could fly Cairo.

When you climbed into the driver's seat, Lily gave you a look. "What?"

"Why aren't you riding with Tyler?"

"Because you need a driver."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what, Boone forgot how to drive?"

You rolled your eyes. "Boone's operating a camera."

"Oh right, because we don't have cameras in every vehicle."

"Lil..."

"I know something's going on with you and Tyler. You've been acting weird all week."

You sighed. Lily was your best friend and your closest confidant. She knew very well how you felt about Tyler--and she knew exactly why you would never tell him. It wasn't that you thought he would be rude about it...you just didn't want to risk making things awkward between the two of you, or gods forbid, the rest of the team.

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"I promise I won't make fun of you, but I can make no promises regarding my laughter."

Her candor made you chuckle. It was one of the many things you loved about her. "I had a dream earlier this week...and um...well, I can't get it out of my head. Every time I see him, it just invades my damn brain."

She smirked. "What kind of dream?"

You groaned. "You know exactly what kind of dream, Lily."

"Was it..." she grinned, "...the dirty kind?"

"Lily!"

She laughed loudly. "Oh there's nothing wrong with it! We've all had a dirty dream before."

"It's a little different when it's about someone you know and see every damn day."

"Instead of being awkward about it, you could just tell him...maybe he'll make your fantasies come true."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, like that's gonna happen. We both know Tyler isn't into me like that."

"I most certainly do not know that, and for the record, neither do you."

"He's not."

"How do you know if you never ask him?"

"He would have said something by now, Lily."

"Oh, you mean like you have?"

You shot her a glare, but before you could respond, the radio on your dash crackled to life, Tyler's voice on the other end letting you all know Boone was starting the stream. You flicked the camera on your dash on, effectively silencing any further personal conversation.

Tyler made his traditional intro, introducing every member of the team before launching into a description of today's storm.

"Lightning, can you swing up to my left and give me your thoughts?"

Lily'd already pulled her googles down, eyes trained on whatever Cairo was seeing up in the air. You pulled around to the left of Tyler's truck, giving yourself a good view of the approaching storm.

You breathed deeply as you took in the beautiful cloud formations before you. No matter how many storms you chased...or how many tornadoes you experienced, the beauty and power never ceased to amaze you.

"She's looking beautiful, T. Plenty of shear and that cap is definitely gonna break. I'd say take a left in a half mile and drive straight at her."

"You heard the woman. Let's ride."

The clouds were rotating more rapidly as you approached the storm. You could feel the electricity in the air--the heaviness that accompanied any supercell storm.

"Come on, baby, show us what you got," you muttered.

The rest of your team smiled at your words as they crackled through the radio.

"We've got a funnel!" Lily called. Cairo zoomed overhead, able to see the beginning of the tornado before the rest of you.

You watched in rapt awe as the funnel grew. When the tornado finally touched down, you let out a whoop of excitement. The sound was echoed by the rest of the team.

"We've got ourselves a grade A tornado here folks," Tyler said. You could hear the joy in his voice and you smiled as you pictured his excited expression. "Lightning, Dex, you guys hang back while we get a little closer."

"Copy," you responded, Dex's affirmation coming moments later.

You slowed to a stop, eyes glued to the red truck as it sped closer to the tornado. This was always the moment that had your heart clenching in your chest...this was the moment it could all go wrong.

"What are our readings, Lil?" you asked.

"Wind speeds are currently 98 miles per hour and it looks like we've got an RFD forming."

Your breathing slowed as you stared at the tornado. You could see the rain curtain forming at the southeastern edge of the tornado, confirming Lily's RFD observation. Your earlier excitement turned to dread as an overwhelming sense of wrongness came over you.

"Monitor the wind speeds, Lily. I'm not liking this one."

"You got it."

"Tyler?" you hailed him directly.

"Yeah, Lightning?"

"You're heading straight toward an RFD. You need to pull back or you're not gonna be able to see the actual tornado."

"What's the current windspeed?" he asked.

"We're up to 110," Lily replied.

"Tyler--pull back. Now," you urged. 110 mph was the top windspeed for an EF1...and that truck wasn't rated for an EF2.

"We've got hail!" Boone yelled excitedly.

"Baseballs!" Tyler hollered.

"Tyler!" you called.

"We're alright, Lightning. Don't worry," he responded.

You exhaled heavily and closed your eyes for a moment. "Windspeed, Lil?"

"120."

"Shit. Tyler it's an EF2 and you're driving right into the damn rain wall. Back off."

"Alright, we'll go around the edge--see if we can't skirt around the RFD."

You didn't like it...you never liked when visibility was so compromised. Especially when you weren't actively in the storm. You'd lost visual of the truck, but you could still clearly see the tornado and the rain wall that formed on the Southeastern edge. Your skills were of more use when you were actually in the storm...not watching from a distance.

"(Y/N), we've got a second funnel forming," Dexter called.

"Where?"

"I can see the hook on the radar. Off to the west."

"Lily, can you get me eyes?" you asked.

"On it."

While you couldn't see Cairo, you knew the drone was flying overhead, racing towards the western edge of the storm.

"Wind shear is still high," Dani commented.

You could hear the slight worry in her voice, echoing your own concerns.

"Shit," Lily muttered. "We've got an updraft and she's rotating."

"Tyler, get out of there now," you ordered. "Second tornado just touched down to the west."

"We can't see it," Tyler called out.

"Windspeed on the first tornado?" you asked.

It was Dexter who responded. "136!"

"Fuck!" That was the threshold for an EF3.

"Windspeed on the smaller twister is already 105," Lily yelled.

"Tyler!"

"I can't see the other tornado!" he yelled.

"Lily!"

"I'm trying..." she said desperately. You watched in dismay as the two tornados spun in the distance. Tyler and Boone were somewhere in the middle of it and Lily was trying to find the truck with Cairo.

"Got 'em!"

"Guide me!" Tyler yelled.

"Go in reverse," Lily insisted. "If you keep going straight, you're gonna hit the second tornado."

You could hear Tyler's cursing over the radio, followed by the revving of the truck's engine.

"Keep going!" Lily commanded.

Your anxiety was through the roof and you still couldn't see the truck you were so desperately searching for.

"Shit!!!" Lily yelled. "I lost Cairo!"

It was your turn to take over...but all you had was instinct. "Tyler! What can you see?"

"I can still only see the EF3!"

"To your right?"

"Yes!"

You gauged his likely location and sent out a silent prayer that you were right. "Go left. As fast as you can."

Tyler didn't even ask if you were sure. He trusted you with his life...and with Boone's.

"You might be sending him right into the EF2," Lily said softly.

"I know."

You could feel her concerned gaze on you, but you didn't dare take your eyes off the storms raging in front of you.

"We've got a wind shift," Dexter called. "The storm is moving Northeast."

"Tyler?"

"I heard. We're headed in the opposite direction."

You held your breath, waiting to see the red truck finally come into view.

"I see them!" Lily shouted.

You followed her line of sight and let out a long exhale. The sight of that damn truck was easily the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

You waited until the truck finally pulled to a stop just ahead of your truck before getting out and racing towards it.

Tyler jumped out and didn't hesitate to catch you as you jumped into his arms. He held you tightly and you finally felt the tension leave your body. Neither of you said a word as he sat you down, the emotion on both of your faces was enough to convey what you needed to.

The rest of the team had run up to the truck and everyone embraced in relief. Tyler turned back to the camera, letting everyone know the team was safe. He reminded the viewers not to try anything like this without proper training and equipment, before signing off the stream.

"I need a drink," he muttered.

"I think we all could use one," you added.

The sound of a horn honking brought your attention back to the road. A Storm PAR truck pulled up alongside you and Scott leaned out the window.

"Taking a little break?" he taunted.

"Why don't you go drive into an EF5, Scott," you snapped.

He merely laughed. "Next time, you should leave the storm chasing to the adults...and maybe stop listening to intuition instead of science."

"That intuition just saved my ass," Tyler growled.

"And mine," Boone added.

"Intuition," you said softly. "The one thing you've always wanted but will never have."

Scott glared at you. "Maybe this is the right group for you, (Y/N). You never were on my level."

"You've got that backwards, Scott. You were never on mine."

A chorus of "ooos" went up around you, sparking a smirk to cross your face.

"Screw you, (Y/L/N)."

"I'm sure you'd like to." You gave him a teasing wave as he sped off, middle finger hanging out the window.

"You handled that very well," Tyler said softly.

You smiled. "I guess I just got tired of his shit."

"Personally, I thought it was pretty hot," Boone commented.

You laughed, along with Lily and Dani, while Tyler and Dexter groaned.

"Come on kids. Let's go get a drink."

"And food?" Boone asked hopefully. "I'm starving."

"Since you just survived a very harrowing experience, I think we can manage to scrounge up some food for you," you teased.

He grinned and gave you a kiss on the cheek before climbing back into the passenger seat of Tyler's truck.

Tyler's gaze lingered on you for a moment before he went back to his truck...a gaze that didn't go unnoticed by Lily.

"I saw that," she whispered once you were both back in your truck.

"You saw what?"

"The way he looked at you."

"It's called gratitude, Lily. Nothing more."

"I love you, but you are blind as hell. You both are."

You just shook your head and started the car, trying desperately to ignore the pit in your stomach that had formed the moment you'd lost sight of Tyler's truck in the storm...

**********

The team had made it through a round of drinks and appetizers before their meals hit the table. Adrenaline did wonders for one's appetite.

You'd managed to find a large booth in the bar across the street from your motel. You sat between Boone and Tyler, and the other three sat across from you. Lily's gaze was focused very heavily on you to the point where you kicked her under the table to get her to back off.

After everyone had shoveled down their meals and gotten another round of drinks in, Dani announced she wanted to play pool. Dexter and Boone immediately offered to join her, and Lily said she'd try her hand at it before following them to the tables at the other end of the bar.

"You don't wanna play?" Tyler asked.

"I suck at pool and you know it."

He chuckled softly. "You really are terrible at it."

You shot him a glare, but his warm expression softened yours instantly. "I'm glad you're okay," you whispered.

"Thanks to you, Lightning."

"And Lily. Mostly Lily."

He shook his head. "I should have listened to you right away. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. I probably sounded overprotective."

"Your instincts are always spot on. I shouldn't have ignored them."

"It's alright, T. You and Boone are fine. That's all that matters."

He was quiet for a moment, as if contemplating his next words very carefully. "I'm glad it was Boone riding with me today. I don't know what I would have done if it had been you."

"The same thing you did today. Nothing would have changed."

Tyler gave you a long, strange look. "I would have been terrified, Lightning. Absolutely terrified."

"Why?"

"I can handle putting myself in danger or even dying, but I don't like the idea of putting any of you in that situation, you least of all. If something happened to you?" His eyes closed and he breathed deeply. "I don't know what I would do."

You grabbed his hand and squeezed it, prompting him to look you in the eyes. "I know the feeling. I was scared out of my mind today, Tyler. More afraid than I've been in a very long time."

He scanned your face as if looking for something. You couldn't tell if he found it or not, but his expression changed back to the easy cockiness you were used to. "Wanna dance, darlin'?"

You couldn't help the surprise that crossed your face at the sudden change of topic. "What?"

He just grinned at you. "Dance with me."

You nodded slowly, letting him pull you out of the booth and to the dance floor. Tyler had never asked you to dance before and to be honest, you didn't think he even liked dancing.

You, however, loved to dance. You'd danced with every other member of the team and plenty of strangers. You were never ashamed to dance alone either. Music spoke to your soul in the same way storms did, and you'd always lost yourself in both.

You were surprised by Tyler's movements as he moved to the rhythm of the upbeat song. "I didn't know you could dance," you teased.

"You never asked."

"I've danced at every bar we've ever been to," you countered. "I don't think you've ever joined in!"

"I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of an expert."

You laughed. "I'm not expert, I just love it."

He grabbed your hand and spun you around a few times before spinning you into him. "Perhaps I just like to watch you move. It's one of the few times I see you look truly free."

He spun you away from him again before you could comment. You'd never noticed him watching you dance and his admission surprised you.

The song changed to a slower, more sensual beat, and Tyler pulled you into him, back against his front. You swayed your hips to the beat, trying to steady your heartbeat as Tyler's hands rested on them.

You felt his body moving sensually against yours--the feeling more intoxicating than you'd ever imagined. You felt his lips graze your temple before spinning you around to face him.

You couldn't look up at him, eyes focusing instead on his slightly exposed chest. He moved your body slowly with his, swaying to the rhythm of the music.

"Sweetheart," he said softly. "Look at me."

It took all your willpower to look up at him without panicking. He was looking at you with an expression you'd never seen before, and it made you breathless.

His eyes swept lovingly across your face as his right hand lifted to cup your cheek. "You're so beautiful," he whispered.

You inhaled sharply, surprised as much by the tenderness in his voice as the words. "Ty..."

"Can I kiss you?" he murmured, his voice little more than a plea.

You didn't trust your voice, so you simply nodded.

He lowered his mouth to yours, pressing his lips against yours with a gentleness you didn't expect. It was a soft kiss at first, but as you responded to it, he nipped at your bottom lip, tongue pressing firmly against your lips, begging for entry. You parted your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss as he explored your mouth.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers gripping at the short hairs at the base of his neck. His left arm had wrapped around you, pulling you tightly against him, right hand cradling your face.

You had no idea how long the kiss lasted. It felt as if time stopped and the world around you ceased to exist. It was only the two of you and the moment you shared.

When you finally parted, you were both breathless. It was evident from his expression he didn't have an interest in stopping, and neither did you. You would have kissed him on that dance floor all night long.

He kissed you again, but it was over too soon for your liking. "Tyler," you whimpered as he pulled away.

He chuckled softly. "I don't wanna stop either, baby, but if we don't, I'm liable to make a bit of a scene on this dance floor."

You grinned. "What kind of scene?"

He leaned in close, lips a hair's breadth away from yours. "The X-rated kind."

You brushed your lips against his. "I'm down if you are."

His responding grin warmed your heart. "As hot as that would be, I'd rather not share you with the rest of this bar."

"Well then I guess it's a good thing our motel is right across the street."

He groaned softly. "Thank god." He pulled away, but you could see in his gaze he didn't want to. "Lemme just pay the tab."

"Oh, I gotta pay mine too."

The look he gave you halted you in your tracks. "I'm taking you to bed, Lightning. I'm paying your tab."

You laughed lightly and watched him walk away. Your gaze lingered on his very nice ass for a moment before flickering away in search of your team.

You met Lily's eyes across the room and the grin she gave you told you she'd seen everything. She pulled out her phone and typed for a few moments. Unsurprisingly, yours dinged the moment she looked back up.

Lily: YOU KISSED TYLER!

You: Technically, he kissed me.

Lily: Whatever! YOU KISSED!!! I told you he liked you!

You: Yeah, yeah. You can gloat later...we're going back to the motel. ;)

Lily: You can bet your ass I will! Have fun and don't do anything I wouldn't do.

You: Is there anything you wouldn't do?

Lily: Nope :D <3

You met your best friend's gaze again and she was grinning ear to ear. She gave you a big thumbs up, which sparked your own happy smile.

"Whatcha smilin' at, sweetheart?" Tyler asked, appearing beside you.

You looked up at him with a warm expression. "You."

"Mhmm." His tone told you he knew exactly what had made you smile, or rather whom.

"Walk me home?" you teased lightly.

He grinned. "It would be an honor, milady."

You laughed at his attempt at a proper British accent. "Stick to your normal accent, babe. It's hotter."

He smirked. "You think my accent's hot?"

You groaned as you walked out the door, Tyler right behind you. "I'm gonna regret admitting that, aren't I?"

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to a stop. "I don't know, darlin'. Are you?" His voice had deepened and that southern drawl made your knees weak.

"Not if you keep that up," you whispered.

He chuckled as he placed kisses on your neck, nipping gently at the place where your neck met your shoulder.

You let out a soft moan and he tightened his grip on your waist. "We better get moving or I'm gonna lose it."

You smiled. "As much as I'd like to see you lose control, I'd prefer it be in my room and not the parking lot."

He laughed softly and grabbed your hand. He guided you across the street and up the stairs of the motel. His eyes seemed to gleam in the moonlight as he watched you fish out your key and unlock your door.

The second you entered the room and closed the door, Tyler had you pressed against it, lips pressed firmly against yours. You sighed into the kiss, relishing the hard lines of his body beneath your hands.

You made quick work of the buttons on his plaid shirt, pushing it off his shoulders as his lips trailed down your neck. He nipped at your collarbone, earning a breathless moan from you.

Your hands instinctively went to his hair, but his backwards ball cap was in the way. You pulled it off his head and tossed it across the room before tangling your fingers in his dark blonde locks. He let out a soft sound of pleasure as your nails scraped against his scalp.

"Normally I treat my hats with more respect than that, but you're more than welcome to throw 'em around if it means I get to feel your hands in my hair."

You chuckled, tugging lightly on his roots. He groaned lowly in response, and you grinned. "I'll keep that in mind."

He tugged his shirt the rest of the way off before sliding his hands under yours and removing it with a swiftness that surprised you. His eyes trailed down to your bra, but you were too focused on his bare chest to notice.

He leaned forward, aiming to press a kiss to your breast, but you held him at arm's length. "Sweetheart?"

"Hold on," you mumbled. "I'm trying to count your abs."

He laughed and shook his head slowly.

"It's not natural to have that many. It's absurd."

He laughed even harder, hand sliding under your chin to tilt your head up. When your eyes met his, you could see the mischief dancing in them. "You can count them later--after I'm done making you scream my name."

You smirked. "Is that a promise?"

"The screaming or the ab counting?"

You laughed lightly, smacking his chest affectionately. "The screaming, Tyler Owens. I am very interested in forgetting my name...if you think you can manage it."

He grinned wolfishly. "Oh darlin', my name will be the only thing you'll remember."

He didn't allow you to respond before kissing you with even more hunger than before. His hands deftly unclasped your bra and you let it fall to the floor.

Tyler pulled away just enough to look at your bare breasts, a low appreciative whistle escaping his lips. "Now these are the nicest pair I've ever seen." He punctuated his words with a pinch to each of your nipples, which had you arching off the door.

"Ty--"

Whatever you were about to say was cut off by moans as he lowered to take a nipple into his mouth. His hands massaged what his mouth could not, and he listened closely to your breathing to gauge your enjoyment.

After spending a sufficient amount of time appreciating your ample chest, he slid to his knees, mouth trailing kisses down to your abdomen.

He made quick work of removing your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a pair of lacy underwear you suddenly found yourself incredibly glad to be wearing.

"These are nice," he murmured, tracing a finger around the edge of the lace. "Were you expecting something, Lightning?"

His tone was teasing, but you could see a little bit of worry in his eyes. As if you would have wanted to be in this position with anyone but him.

"There's always a part of me that hopes you'll see them," you admitted softly.

His eyes lit up. "Oh? You wear them for me?"

You blushed. "I wear them for me, but...you're the only man I'd want to see them."

Tyler grinned and dipped his finger beneath the lace, hooking it around the crotch panel and tugging down slowly. You watched his hungry gaze as he lowered your underwear to the floor for you to step out of.

He gently traced a finger along the seam of your labia, a groan escaping his throat. "Fuck, baby. You're already soaked."

You blushed and let out a soft whine, desperate for him to actually touch you already. "Ty..."

He chuckled lightly. "Patience, sweetheart." He grabbed your left leg and pulled it over his shoulder, before leaning in to lick a thick stripe up your pussy.

You gasped, one hand going immediately to his hair while the other pressed against the door for balance.

"You taste even better than I imagined."

Every woman wants to hear that, and you were no exception, but you were becoming increasingly impatient. "Tyler, please."

"You gonna keep still for me, darlin'?"

You nodded rapidly.

"Good girl. Now let me enjoy my meal."

You weren't sure what pulled the moan from deep in your chest--his words or the incredible feeling of his tongue delving into your pussy. To be honest, you couldn't be bothered to care.

It was harder than you'd thought to actually stay still. His tongue was exceptionally talented and he had you bucking up against his mouth almost instantly.

He chuckled against your pussy as his hands grabbed your hips and held you firmly in place. He wasn't about to deprive himself of your delicious taste for even a second to admonish you for moving.

As your moans increased in volume and frequency, Tyler found himself loving the sound more than he'd ever thought possible. He knew he would do just about anything to hear them again.

Your grip on his hair tightened and you pulled on it periodically, each time breaking his concentration for a moment. You were still coherent enough to tuck that knowledge away for use at a later time.

"Tyler," you whimpered. "I'm close."

He groaned against you and his grip on your hips tightened to an almost bruising level. He brought all of his focus and effort to your clit, increasingly desperate to feel you come.

Gasps and moans ripped from your mouth as the tension in your abdomen reached a fever pitch. "Please, please, please."

Tyler didn't stop his ministrations--didn't change a single thing. Your legs began to shake and your grip on his hair was painful, but he'd let you rip every last strand out just to hear your moans as you came.

With a final flick of his tongue, you fell over the edge into a brilliant abyss of pleasure unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. The sounds pouring from your mouth were easily the most beautiful sounds he'd ever heard and he never wanted them to stop.

Your thighs were shaking as you came down from your high, Tyler's mouth still fixed on your pussy despite the grip you had on his hair. He finally let you pull him away, if only to prevent you from losing your balance.

He stood up, licking his lips happily as he gazed into your flushed face. His cock was throbbing painfully, but he was happy to ignore it in favor of ensuring your pleasure for every moment.

"If you're that good with your mouth," you started breathlessly, "then I'm intrigued to see what you can do with the rest of your body."

He grinned wickedly. "I'm more than happy to show you."

You smiled. "I thought you might be."

You grabbed his face and pulled him down for a heated kiss. He pressed his body firmly against yours and you could feel his erection pressing into your lower belly.

You palmed him through his jeans, giving him a firm squeeze. He groaned and bucked his hips against your hand. You smirked against his lips as you noted the impressive size beneath your palm.

"Baby," he ground out. "Don't tease me."

"Since you had mercy on me, I suppose I can do the same," you murmured.

You made quick work of removing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. He helped you remove them, along with his boxers. Before you could see exactly what he was working with, he'd scooped you up in his arms and was carrying you to the bed.

He laid you down gently, climbing on top of you, lips pressed against yours in a hungry kiss. His tongue fought yours for dominance, but you allowed him to win, opting instead to reach for the hard length you could feel pressing against your thigh.

You wrapped your hand around him and began to stroke slowly, adding a little pressure each time you reached the head. Tyler groaned against your lips, clearly enjoying the sensations.

After a few moments, he grabbed your hand, stopping you mid-stroke. "Keep that up and this isn't gonna last nearly as long as I want it to."

You smirked and nipped at his bottom lip. "I didn't realize I had that effect on you."

"How you didn't figure it out is beyond me. I've wanted you with increasing desperation since the day I met you."

You inhaled sharply, surprised by his admission. He didn't want to give you time to respond, especially if you hadn't felt that same attraction, so he used your momentary distraction to brush his cock against your folds.

You both moaned softly, focus returning to the present situation.

"I would have liked to repay the favor, but I don't think I can stand another second without you inside me," you whispered.

Tyler smirked. "The feeling is mutual, baby."

He gripped his cock tightly and lined it up with your entrance. He paused, realizing he was forgetting an important step. "Shit. Do you, uh, do you have a condom?"

You shook your head. "It's okay though. I've got an IUD."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded. "I trust you."

"I'm clean and I haven't been with anyone since I got tested last."

"Same," you confirmed. "So please, if you could fuck me senseless, I would really appreciate it."

Tyler grinned and chuckled breathily. "Your wish is my command."

He knew he was well-endowed and he could see the flicker of worry in your eyes as you stared down at his cock. He didn't want to hurt you, but he knew the moment he felt your warmth around him he'd lose all sense of control.

"I can go slow, sweetheart," he said softly.

Your eyes flicked back up to meet his and you shook your head. "I wanna feel you--all of you. Please."

He nodded and pressed the tip of his cock against your core and slowly slipped into you. He watched your face for any sign of pain or discomfort, but he didn't see any.

"Take a deep breath for me, baby," he whispered.

The moment you inhaled, he thrust into you, filling you so fully you nearly screamed from the stretch alone. You gripped onto his shoulders tightly and gasped his name.

He lowered his head to yours and tried to steady his racing heart. He knew you'd feel good, but he'd never imagined it'd feel like this. "You feel incredible," he murmured. "Made for me, weren't you darlin'?"

"Ty," you whimpered. "Need you to move--please."

He started to move slowly, dragging his cock along your tight walls until he was almost all the way out before plunging back in. The initial discomfort eased as he moved until all you could feel was blinding pleasure.

Tyler watched your face, waiting until your expression morphed to pure ecstasy before shifting his angle. He elevated your hips, tugging both your legs up against his chest as he pounded into you.

You let out a cry of pleasure as his cock brushed against that spot inside you that made you see stars. Your nails dug into his biceps, the only part of him you could reach.

"You feel so good, baby," he ground out. "Squeezing me so tight."

Your eyes snapped shut and your head tilted back as a series of moans and expletives slipped from your lips. You could feel another orgasm building, pleasure so close you could almost taste it.

"Ty, please don't stop," you begged.

"I wouldn't dare."

He knew you were close--could feel it in the way your walls pulsed around him. He continued his pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust.

Your grip on his biceps tightened to an almost painful level, nails digging into his flesh so deeply they may draw blood, but he was too lost in the pleasure to care.

"You gonna come for me, sweet girl?" he murmured.

You were past words, only able to manage a rapid nod of your head. The sounds your bodies made mixing with the broken moans coming from both of you, was absolutely the most sinful sound either of you had ever heard. Tyler would have given his last breath to hear those sounds forever.

Your jaw went slack, the only warning Tyler had before he felt the explosion of pleasure rock through your body. Your pussy clenched him so tightly he couldn't move, the force of your orgasm stealing the breath from his lungs.

You clung to him as you came down from your high and he slowly lowered your legs so he could kiss you without breaking you in half. His lips brushed against yours, swallowing the soft panting breaths as they escaped your lips.

"How many more do you think you can give me, Lightning?" he murmured against your soft skin.

"I--I don't know," you answered breathlessly.

"Well then, let's find out." His tone was dominant, but you knew he wouldn't do anything you didn't want him to. If you asked him to stop, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

You nodded your agreement, earning a wicked smile from his handsome face. He slipped out of you and the sudden emptiness almost made you cry. Tyler noticed instantly and he cooed softly, "Aww, don't worry, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

His strong, callused hands stroked your sides before gripping your hips tightly and flipping you onto your stomach. You gasped in surprise, but immediately lifted your hips for him as if on instinct.

He chuckled softly. "Such a good girl, aren't you sweetheart? You know just what to do."

You shook your hips and whimpered softly, signaling your need to the man now hovering behind you. You felt his hand trail down your spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake. When his hand reached your ass, he smacked it--hard enough to get a reaction, but not hard enough to really hurt you.

You moaned loudly at the pleasurable feeling and pushed your hips back towards him, desperate for him to touch you again.

"Oh you like that, pretty girl?" He smacked your ass again. "You like it when I spank you?" Another smack.

"Yes!" you gasped out between moans.

Tyler chuckled and gave you one more spank before sheathing himself in your warm heat without warning. Your cries mixed with his low groan as he bottomed out.

"Fuck, baby. So goddamn tight."

You pushed back against him and wiggled your hips, a broken "please" escaping your lips.

He couldn't resist your begging tone even if he wanted to. He set a brutal pace, pounding into you like he'd never get to do it again. He held your hips so tightly there was no doubt there'd be bruises there in the morning.

"So deep," you cried out between moans. "'s so good."

Tyler wanted to feel you come again, but he had a feeling you'd need a little extra stimulation this time. His right hand slid down your back until he could wrap it around your throat. Using it as leverage, along with the arm he slipped around your middle, he pulled you up so your back pressed against his chest.

You gasped, head falling back against him, exposing your neck to him as your heavily lidded eyes met his. He brushed his lips to your shoulder, then your neck, then your cheek--hips never faltering, hold never slipping.

"I need you to come again for me, baby."

You whimpered in response, but made no move to stop him as his dominant hand lowered to your throbbing clit. He maintained a grip on your throat, firm but gentle, while his other hand slowly massaged your clit.

The moans that fell from your lips were like music to his ears, along with the half-gasped whimpers of his name. "Let go for me, sweet girl. I've got you."

You lifted one arm to wrap around his head, entwining your fingers into his hair. You held onto him as best you could as your orgasm ravaged your body.

Tyler groaned as you tugged his hair, teeth nipping at your pulse point while he helped you ride out your high. He knew if he let go of you, you'd fall flat on your face, so he lowered you very gently to the bed before rolling you back over to look up at him.

"You look so beautiful like this," he whispered.

A soft blush bloomed across your cheeks, somehow only making you more beautiful. He wished he could take a picture of this moment, but he'd have to settle for the memory instead.

He lowered his lips down to yours and you met him with surprising intensity. You held on to the back of his neck and tugged at his hair as your tongues intertwined. You brushed your soaking core against his painfully hard length, and he groaned into the kiss.

"Want you to come too," you whimpered against his lips.

"Only if you come with me."

Your eyes widened as you pulled away from him. "I don't think I can."

"Will you try for me, pretty girl?"

You bit your lip, but you nodded slowly. "I'll try."

He grinned, nudging his nose against yours affectionately. "That's my girl."

He slowly slid back into you, starting his medium pace immediately. Your breath mingled with his, lips never more than a couple inches apart. He was supporting himself entirely on his arms, which were caged around you.

Unlike the previous positions, this felt unhurried, gentle...loving. You lost yourself in his blue-green eyes, gaze never leaving your face.

Tyler wanted to see you fall apart this time--really see you. He wanted to see all those little micro-expressions of pleasure--pleasure he was giving you.

To your surprise, you could feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly, feel the ache that always preceded an orgasm. Your hands were soft against his velvet-smooth skin as you traced the muscles up and down his back.

"Tyler..." you whispered, brushing your lips against his again.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Wanna come with you."

He kissed you gently. "Tell me what you need."

"Just don't stop," you begged softly.

His lips brushed your forehead. "Never."

You weren't sure if it was the passion of the moment or the heightened sensitivity from multiple orgasms, or maybe a mixture of both, but you were already teetering on the edge of bliss. Your nails dug into his back and your moans became louder--a subtle signal of your impending orgasm.

"I can feel you tensing, sweet girl. I know you're close." He kissed you again, tasting the moans that left your lips.

Your entire body began to shake and your breathing was ragged as you held tightly to Tyler like he was the only thing keeping you tied to earth.

Tyler was on the edge too...barely able to hold back the orgasm he'd been fighting for several minutes. It was taking almost all of his focus not to come before you did.

"Need you to come with me, (Y/N)," he begged. "Please, baby."

Hearing Tyler Owens beg was one of the sexiest things you'd ever heard, and it had you falling into an ocean of pleasure you might very well drown in.

Your mouth opened in a silent scream as you fell apart, Tyler's strong hands and whispered words the only things holding you together.

Your name escaped his lips like a prayer on repeat as he came, filling you with his seed. You clung to each other in the moments after the pleasure began to fade, neither of you willing to part just yet.

Tyler's large, toned body collapsed onto yours, pinning you beneath him as you both tried to catch your breath.

"Am I hurting you?" he mumbled.

"No."

"Good...because I don't think I can move."

You chuckled lightly, feeling his responding chuckle rumble against your chest.

Your fingers ran through his hair, gently messaging his scalp as you held him close to you. If you were being honest, you didn't want him to move...at least not anytime soon.

After several minutes, Tyler finally pulled himself up and you grumbled softly, wishing you could hold him a little while longer.

He chuckled as he looked down at you. "I'm coming right back, sweetheart. Just gonna grab something to clean you up with."

You watched him walk to the bathroom and return moments later with a warm, wet washcloth. He was gentle as he cleaned up the mess between your legs before wiping himself off and collapsing on the bed beside you.

"C'mere," he murmured, pulling you towards him. You obliged, laying your head on his chest and letting out a happy little sigh.

Tyler smiled as he placed a kiss to the top of your head, pulling you even closer despite how hot his skin felt.

"What're we gonna tell the team?" you asked softly, unsure if you really wanted the answer.

His responding chuckle made you smile. "Pretty sure they already know, darlin'. Especially if Lily's expression when we left the bar was anything to go by."

You blushed as you looked up at him. "So you're okay with this?"

Tyler could see the flicker of worry in your eyes and he wanted to assuage it immediately. "If by this you mean, telling every single person I see that you're my girl, then yes."

It was your turn to chuckle. "I think I like that."

He smiled. "Yeah? You like being my girl?"

You pulled yourself up to kiss him sweetly. "I like it very much."

He kissed you deeply before allowing you to settle back against his chest. He knew he wouldn't mind spending every day like this for the rest of his life. In fact, he was willing to do just about anything to ensure it...and so were you.

[orleans-jester]

This Pierre, in this alternate verse, chose Piper. It was his last night alive, he had an inkling of that, and was choosing to spend it with Piper. A sensuous, sexual, passion-charged night. He was still the Pierre that everyone knew and rolled their eyes at, no matter the universe he still had a wandering eye, but when it counted? He chose Piper.

This Pierre had gone with the Laveaus when his mother and sister had come to confront Phoebus and pick up their stuff. He hadn’t tortured Thomas with hours of trying to justify his decisions. He had still been a pest at the Laveau house, sure, but it wasn’t out of anything bad-natured. That’s just what happens sometimes. But he didn’t make an enemy of himself, the way that the Pierre standing next to Piper right now had.

So all of that could very much have factored into the decision that Piper was going to make very soon.

“I missed you too,” Pierre said, his dark eyes brightening as he looked at her in the dim lighting of the room. “You were always my number one girl, you know that, right? No matter what happened, no matter who I was with, my mind … it always went right back to you.”

Even now, he kept tearing his eyes off of the vision of himself and Piper in that bathtub, and looking back to the real one. And that was damn hard for him. He was never one to turn down free porn.

He moaned, his Adam’s apple bobbing as she was touching him in this enclosed space. It was hard to focus on the plan when she was looking at him like this. Touching him like this. His breath was coming out quicker. Real touch. Not what happened in Hell. But real. Honest. Touch. “Promise me - we’ll have lots of time for this in the future?” He whispered.

He even thought about turning back time to when they got here. Have her here in this closet. He was already hard as a damn rock, just from her touch. Just from hearing himself in that bathtub out there. And from the idea of having life once more.

He let out a small groan into the kiss, his hands on his hips, feeling the dip of her waist before it flared out into that. “You’re bringing me back, how can I say no?”

He never even questioned how this one was going to die. He just saw the lucky fucker in a bathtub. At least he was having a good last day right? And then the thump - thump - thump of heavy footsteps. It sent a shiver up his spine just hearing them coming. He was growing nervous now. He was trying to appear brave, for Piper’s sake but shit, he was still a bit squeamish. He almost wanted to stay in that closet but Piper’s pull brought him out of it and he went running. Jump and slam. Jump and slam. Easy peasy. Like - those stupid football games that Ronno’s dad loved to watch.

And he tried. But the slam was too hard. Too physical. And what he did was slam his way into Delta’s line of fire, and push the other Pierre out of the way, and Piper grabbed him and took him back to the alternate universe. The exact Pierre Renault that everyone knew and loved to hate, was gone in a vomitous, fiery spew.

And now this new Pierre Renault was in this other world, the ends of his hair still damp, naked with a towel, and trying to get his bearings. But his eyes settled mainly on Piper, someone familiar, someone who he had just been with, someone who was now somehow magically dressed. His eyesbrows were furrowed as he ran his fingers nervously through his hair, making no attempt to tighten the towel or cover himself up more. They had talked about this happening but - actually having it happen?

Much like how he had made other decisions that greatly affected his life, though they might not have seemed so monumental at the time, others had too. In this other life, New Orleans hadn’t been wiped out. There weren’t zombies walking around. Hence how the scribbles kept ending up at Delta’s door, there were still plenty of them around. These changes were going to have to be adjusted to, once his mind wrapped around everything.

But one thing that never changed across universes was these were his two dudes. A grin came across his face as he saw them. He was alive. Seven never died in his universe so he was still alive too. He still had his two best guys. “It’s - definitely me,” He said, because in a way, it was. He was him. Pierre Renault.

He looked down at himself and chuckled. “Man, I wish. That sounds so much nicer than what really happens,” He said, a shiver going down his spine as he thought about the way that he would have died if not for Piper’s interfering. It could very well have come from the cold as well. “Dragon fire.”

He took the blankets from mothers with a charming grin, cacooining himself in one. And then because some things never truly change - “Wanna get somewhere warm and give this body a spin?” Which one of them was he talking to? All, of course.

The ladies loved the charm. Some people were turned off by it because they could sniff it out so easily, but these ladies didn't mind being razzle dazzled. Clotho had no doubts he'd be back up to 100 percent charming in no time.

As for Zero going emotional overload on Pierre at the last minute, he couldn't help himself. The anticipation made him burst. It all flooded out.

The guilt had been eating Zero alive. Fear of hurting more than he already apparently was stronger than guilt. It won out in the end. Luckily, Pierre smoothed it over quickly. "Thanks Pierre. You know how to make a guy feel better." Maybe he was still his aftercare guy after all? He just didn't know everything he was going to need aftercare from. Guilt counted. So did confusing internalized feelings he'd never be able to discern. All he knew was he felt better now.

Well, he'd feel better about the moment both Pierre and Seven were back. Seven down, Pierre to go.

After Pierre had disappeared on and he was left with Seven the number boys had their own private conversation while Piper and Pierre were off getting an eye full of self porn from their multi-verse doppelgangers.

This is where Pierre got explained the whole plan. He seemed to get the gist of it. Piper supposed it was enough.

"Yeah, maybe so." She said smoothing her hands over his shoulders in such a sensual way it could only seem like she might just be getting aroused by the scene before them, or by Pierre's suggestion. "Maybe we should."

Then she leaned her forehead against his. "I really have missed you." She smoothed her thin long, graceful arms around his shoulders. "I once wondered if it was just the idea of you. Then I realized we were never a couple, so that didn't make sense. The idea of what? Right? We were always just us. That's when I knew for sure it was just you. Not some idea in my head of who I thought you might be. I just missed the times we did have. Wished for simpler times maybe. But nah, no farfetched fantasies. I know what was missed."

As she spoke her eyes would glance over at the pair in the bath gauging the moments knowing the routine because she'd seen it before. What a world it was when this was one of the last things Pierre would do before his last breaths. He wasn't so lucky in their timeline. She'd look fondly at Pierre and say, "It's almost time. When I so go, we're going to follow out behind them, but stay low."

She kept staying close though. She kept running her fingers through his hair, her nose against his neck, hands would smooth up and down his arms. She was remembering Pierre. It'd been so long. She kept having little flashes of their times in the forest or at the party in Funkytown. Fun times. Easier times. Times when he was just a boy, and she was just a girl. Neither one of them were anybody special that either of them really knew of.

Then her muscles would start to tighten as time drew near. She readied herself. She looked up. "I wanted to thank you for saying yes." She knew damn well he could have said no. "It was the most purple thing you could have ever done for me." Then she kissed him deeply, a high vibration thank you with all the energy she put into it. He would be able to feel it fuzzing off the edge of her skin. It took all herself control to not have her groove kick on in a moment like that. She might not have been as high strung with the music as Kuzco, but when emotions were high even Piper had a difficulty containing.

Then rattle-rattle, clang-clang, footsteps were clodding echoes down the halls towards the bath chambers the pair were basking in.

She patted his shoulder. Like now. Now. Get ready Get ready. She was waving her hand in a frantic be still, almost sort of way as Piper and Pierre went sloshing out of the tub to see what was going on. Pierre's name was being called. The voice should be familiar to them both as Delta was hardly an unknown relic to either time jumper here.

They were hidden in an unknown part of Delta Castle.

Why? In that timeline things had gone a little differently and as a timekeeper Delta kept him on board longer than she had in the current timeline. He didn't make the same mistakes he had this timeline. He made a few different ones. Whatever they were caused an uproar because Delta was tired of unknowns she referred to as his scribble faces coming up to the castle looking for him. She told Frank if one more of his scribbles comes to her door looking for Pierre she's going to burn him alive. She was just sick of it. They like low maintenance monsters. The Hunch's family was all they could handle in this world too. Sorry Pierre. It's an acid bath for you.

The footsteps would change dramatically because Delta was transforming and slamming into walls in her dragon hide through awkward corridors. Dragon scales smashed corners like armored dozers and armored trucks and she barreled in.

Even Diablo's voice would be squawking Pierre's name. Piper would be pushing him out, "You better go." She'd be helping him with a towel as she wrapped her own.

The real Piper would be holding low and gripping the real Pierre's arm. "Here we go."

Once Piper and Pierre ran out into the corridor, she pulled him out of the closet. "Come on. Come on." She hurried.

She bent down. "Watch. Right there. Just jump at him. JUMP HARD. With intention with this." She put the mini purple hourglass in his hand. "You don't have to turn it. Just hold it. Just hold it and jump. Slam into him. Slam into him and everything will happen so fast. As long as you're holding this, it'll be a done deal. I'll go right home too. The new body goes home. You got it. Right when you see the dragon's shadow emerge from that hall. That's when you jump."

Just outside in the hall where they were talking the doppleganger Piper and Pierre were arguing hearing the dragon gaining headway. Piper was wondering what Pierre did this time because Delta gave him his last warning. Pierre was feigning shocked innocence while naming a few things as if they shouldn't have counted and wasn't sure if Delta might have counted them.

So as the pair were making up their minds what to do, time would too fast. The dragon would speed forth spew acid all over Pierre and get this pesky problem out of Delta's curly boingy hair.

However, when she'd spring forth that's the pinnacle moment of truth. Piper had her moment of clarity. Those devil horns spun out from the spirals of her spiked puppeted mind.

Maybe she'd just push the dopple-Pierre out of the way to head out with the real hourglass. She'd leave the real Pierre behind, a purple trinket in his hand from her belt. The one she'd carried like a burden of grief and lady of sorrow for his time gone. But this was no Via Dolorosa. No, she was here to save a life. Maybe Pierre would still get the last laugh, but this Pied Piper lured a Pierre away and gained another in return.

Chomp. Drizzle. Acid bitch sizzle.

The current timeline soul - back to the other side. Dead. In the multiverse otherworld killed by Delta's acid out of sheer annoyance not for anything heinous.

Back in the current world with the mother Fates and strings that were now bonded-

"Told you I'd save your life." Piper said to the new Pierre. A Pierre that no one else knew was any different. In many ways he wasn't. It was their plan all along. "Now live it with meaning. Live it deliberately."

Zero and Seven would be clueless at this point. It would be the same Seven. No tricks. He was a last-minute decision brought into this. Piper had been plotting this with the Fates for so long trying to find the perfect Pierre. So many strings.

It was why this Pierre would seem to know her. It was why Seven and Zero wouldn't suspect a thing at this point. Piper came from the future and told him he was going to die but didn't tell him when. With his abilities she didn't want him messing anything up. Everything would go off without a hitch and now they were back with a living and breathing Pierre and Seven. Also, with how Piper knew the other Pierre reacted having to keep himself a secret in a different body she didn't want this one to have to go through that again, so even though she promised this one he was going to get to be open about things with most people they'd have a discussion about all that once they got to this world.

Zero was wide eyed. Seven too. They'd had their moments alone. Now they were taking in Pierre.

"Woah my man, woah. You made it. Is that really you?" It was supposed to be a rhetorical question, but in this case maybe it should have been literal.

"What's with the wardrobe change? Not that I'm complaining. Heh. eh." He looked down at the towel that magically managed to stay on during their time travel back to this timeline. "You drown in the bathtub, right? That's got to be it? Am I right?" Trying to guess how Pierre died in his alternate life felt like a fun thing to do seeing him come back in next to nothing but a skin sweater.

The mothers were already on it bending down in their baskets picking up blankets to carry over to him in case he was cold catering to him.

[sabine-smitten-obviously]

Good Omens - December reads part #3- fanfics recs 🤓🩷🎄

I ´ve decided to write a short summary each month about the books i read. I need this to let go of the stories, its a nice way of saying good-bye to them and to spread the love to the authors and to you. 🩷

I only read finished stories and rarely one-shots. You will find no WIPs in here, as i really like to dive deep into the plot and i keep losing track of WIPs. Also you will only find happy or at least hopeful endings here - i couldn´t handle anything else.

Also i try to find every author here on tumblr to link-to, but sadly some times i am out of luck. If you happen to know them, please tell them, write to me in the comments or DM me and i will update the post!

Ratings in ()

Multichapter Fanfics

Dark Literature (E) by @unproblematicme

Well this was a first for me. Human AU with our ineffable loves being exes. Ugh. Lucky for me, Aziraphale is hired by Gabriel to work for the same company on a regular basis. But all of this somehow fades into the background as a haunting starts on the 13th floor of the building. Massive ghoststory and halloween-vibes ensues! 🎃

I'd like to think i still know you (T) by @inherently_human

Human AU. Crowley and Aziraphale went to school together, before life took them on separate paths. Crowley actually detests the thought of the 30years reunion, but ... maybe he would meet Aziraphale again?

Biggest laugh: "Age has not done your eloquence any favors, I see." 😂

The ineffable bride (T) by @theravenmuse

Warlock asks Nanny Astoreth to read him a book he got from the gardener. The story is about a prince named Aziraphale, who fell in love with a farm boy that left to make good fortune, but never came back. Now he is supposed to marry Prince Gabriel.

Happiness, more or less (M) by @mllekurtz

Crowley moves into a flat above a bookshop, glad to have found a short lease. If it weren't for the strange noises in the night ... A ghost story, a love story.

Biggest laugh: "i'm not learning the riddle you have for a name." 😅 I love love love this one. It had me laugh, it had me on the edge and it made me cry. Please give this one a try! 🩷

Intermezzo (E) by @feraltuxedo

Crowley is a former Rockstar, whose career as opera-writer was crashed by Aziraphale Fell's official critique. 10 years later Crowley is offered to write a symphony and get a TV documentary on it, but there is a catch: Aziraphale is the one who will be presenting. Human AU, Enemies to lovers, very nice. Also the author has a way of leading up to and describing explicit scenes that had me wish for more. 😋

The accidental understudy (T) by @appleseeds

Human AU. Aziraphale is the stage manager, when he re-meets with famous actor and former school-collegue Crowley for a play of panto. Sweet fluff ensues as both have had their secret crushes for 30 years.

Love Thy Neighbor (E) by @snae-b

Aziraphale runs a successful bakery blog, but recently he is getting more and more delayed with his posts. The new neighbor is simply a nuisance with his construction noises throughout the day and his loud music in the night. One evening his temper gets the best of him and Aziraphale fists on the door. What will he see, when the door opens? You'll never guess. 😉

Oneshots

Naked in Malibu (E) by @cemeteryangel725

Human AU. Crowley is a famous actor, who is home early from his shoot without telling anyone. And naked. Aziraphale is the hired interior designer, who just so happens to be in Crowley´s home to redesign it. The rest is epic seduction and surprises beneath clothes.

Actually a re-read, as the author gifted us a with a sequel for christmas - see next! 🤓

Naked in New York (E) by @cemeteryangel725

Crowley and Aziraphale have been dating secretly for months now. They both have been falling in love and - of course, these are our beloved idiots! - they have NOT been talking about it. But there is this big red carpet-thingy coming up. Oh no, what is Crowley supposed to do? 😉

Hot Blood, Hot thoughts, Hot Deeds (E) by @supergeek21

Aziraphale sorts the books, when shortky before closing time a strange looking man, dressed all in Black and kind of outdated clothes comes in. He has quite some sharp teeth, too ... 🧛‍♂️🦇

The Serpent King (T) by @angela345

After the death of his father, King Gabriel rules the country. But a curse seems to have befallen the former prosperous kingdom. So knights are being sent out to the Serpent King of the neighbouring kingdom. Will they be able to break the spell? A fairytale.

Stocking Stuffers (E) by @cemeteryangel725

Yes, i know - this is the 3rd rec for @cemeteryangel725 in this blog alone. What can i say - she is a glorious (smut)writer. 😁 In this one we meet again with our beloved husbands from the human AU "Of fire and falcons", which you should definitely read, too. In this oneshot Crowley does a little christmas-strip for his Santaziraphale. 🌶️🎅

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boutique (T) by @dragonfire42

Aziraphale goes shopping with Jim to dress him up for the ball ... Sweet!

The Snake Prince (T) by @LTRisback

Aziraphale takes a walk and bumps into a snake - a talking snake. He offers to save him from the cold and takes him to his bookshop.

Sweet, short fairytale i found bc of another artist who made this beautiful Art to it @rocas-are-doing-well

Only Ever Meant For Someone Else (T) by @di-42

Human AU. Every year the night before christmas, Aziraphale drives his passengers for free as an act of charity. This year, when he has finally finished his shift, there is a commotion behind him. Realising the other driver has wrecked his bentley, he offers to take him to the hospital, where his - presumably - wife Anathema is in labour.

Beautiful little christmas story, seasoned with a bit of angst and a happy ending. 🎄

Biggest laugh: “Of course. I can see how this entire predicament is very clearly her fault.” 😅

I loved this story and it stayed with me for several days.

All the pretty girls (T) by @spectrallydistracted

Crowley has made a pact with Ana to date each week for a whole year - or as long as it takes to find a partner. Sadly all the pretty girls never click. Unlike the very male barista Aziraphale ... 😉

So thats 16 stories this time, next year i will start counting for the whole year, just for the fun of it. 🥳

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Have a wonderfull start to 2025! 🎆