#and suddenly realized the rest of america is not the same??

[confoundedman]

tbh i’m very genuinely a burnt out former gifted kid (iq is a bullshit racist measure but trust me i’m up there) and like we never actually bullied special ed kids but only because we never even interacted with them. i’m not saying this as a good thing i mean that gifted programs are so fucked up, our classes were so isolated from the rest of the school, the culture and pressure and superiority complex it created was so fucking toxic. and racist!!! i mean my area wasn’t all white, actually majority east+south asian but u bet there were no latino or black people in my class. idk what most people mean when they say they’re former gifted kids tho bc my hometown is kinda Special (FUCK redmond wa), like i watched one of my friends (who got into a highly selective CS college in 10th grade, along with several other people i knew) have a breakdown over not being as good as another classmate who was doing university level physics research in 9th grade and rejected MIT for stanford (although i had three other friends go to MIT). my entire friend group was three grades ahead in math (minimum). tbh i still have no idea how “impressive” any of that is (if it’s impressive at all) bc my understanding of standards are so fucked. like for me “burnt out gifted kid” doesn’t even mean “boohoo i used to be good at things and now i’m not” but it’s more about the culture and ridiculously high expectations and academic pressure and now i’m basically failing out of college thanks to truly debilitating depression and adhd that i never learned how to deal with because i was smart enough to make up for it in grade school, and i don’t think college is for me but i never considered anything other than a high ranking university as an option thanks to the incredibly toxic environment that constantly shit on art majors, gap years, community college, etc., where everyone only did shit to build up their college resume and we all forgot how to have fun.

idk i wish arrogant white ppl hadn’t co-opted the term because it genuinely is a fucked up phenomenon, i recognize the sheer privilege in being labeled a gifted kid in the first place and having access to all those resources and shit, being able to worry about academics instead of money or whatever, but while it works for some people it can also really fuck you up, i am in such a worse place mentally than i would’ve been if i had just been in general ed somewhere else, and i have friends going through the same shit. also fucks you up socially because you live in such a bubble, i firmly believe in having a diverse group of friends and gifted programs create the exact opposite. idk i try not to publicly identify as a burnt out former gifted kid bc for the most part i agree with you and i don’t wanna come across as that kind of person lol, and i will say it really isn’t the biggest deal tbh, there’s so much worse shit to be dealing with. i hope this rant doesn’t come off as whiny or whatever it’s just something i think about a lot.

“Burnt out former gifted kid” auto translates to “former bully of special ed students” in my head automatically like autocorrect

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part four)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve realises where home is, both in 2017 and in the 1950s. The reader bolts, faced with the memory of the woman Steve cherishes. Bucky starts to find himself drawn to you.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, angst

word count : 2.6k

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2017, a year after the Avengers' Civil War

It had been nearly four months of the arrangement that you and Steve shared. Hiding away in some remote cabin in Alaska.

Time was running out. You both knew you had to get a move on soon, as you can't stay in one place for too long.

If only you actually stayed put, and didn't cause Steve to worry almost every other week.

He quickly realized that you came and went when you pleased. A habit you must have picked up from your profession, one that Steve was sure would drive him to madness.

He was glaring at the newspaper he picked up from the nearest town when he made a supply run.

Your name was printed in bold lettering, along with your moniker, Huntress. Wanted for conspiring against the State, it read. You had been spotted in some other city, a blurred-out CCTV snapshot of your face included on the page.

If seen, please alert your local authorities. Suspected to be in hiding with Steve Rogers, famously known as Captain America. Reward to be disclosed.

Captain America. Steve never thought there would come a time when that name would leave a bad taste in his mouth, until now. He wondered what excuse you would have this time. Which person was it that you just needed to help? What was this important thing that justified suddenly leaving without telling Steve?

Steve hated your absence, but he knew he was being a hypocrite. He admired how eager you were to help your friends. If he was in your place, he would probably do the same.

He had begun thinking of the next plan. He knew he would always be welcome in Wakanda, but he didn't want to abuse their generosity. It would subject them to intense scrunity in the international political arena and they were already doing more than enough with just taking Bucky in.

No matter the next step, wherever the location, Steve found himself thinking of you. He would always think in terms of we, not I.

Where would we go next? Where would we be safe?

You were free to go wherever you wanted, of course. The others have been roaming different corners of the world, and maybe it was even safer that way, to spread out in those circumstances.

You could choose to go alone to a different hideout, and of course he would have to accept that.

But Steve didn't want you to leave him.

Why? What was he to you? What were you to him? Steve thought of how he never had the best timing. He knew there was something there, and you had to know it too.

He felt it whenever you would smile at him as he handed you your cup of coffee. He felt it in how comfortable it was when you would both read in silence at the opposite ends of the couch in the living room. He felt it in how much you cared, in how you understood his strong tether to Bucky.

And that small cabin was the biggest testament to it all. It was absurd, how much it felt like a home to Steve.

A home, while he was being hunted down and scorned by the country whose values he so proudly stood for and represented. A place of refuge, while everything else was in shambles.

He knew it was all because of you.

If only you would be quick in coming back home.

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You didn't mean to leave abruptly again, without giving any notice.

Really, you swore you didn't.

You were also lying to yourself. Because you knew it was all because of what Steve mentioned a few nights prior.

Or rather, who.

It was all going well, you thought. You were getting to know your dangerously attractive housemate quite well. So much so, that you had decided he would be the first one you'd call if you ever got into trouble or needed a shoulder to cry on.

Natasha would understand, of course. She had been in contact, updating on her whereabouts, and also checking in on her apparent ship.

"Ship? Here in the woods?" You had been visibly confused, stupidly glancing out the window as if that very ship would materialise.

"No, you idiot. Ship... relationship. A couple. All the kids are using it these days."

Oh. You debated acting oblivious but you knew that would never fly with someone like Natasha. Nothing really got past her, and you had to admit, your excitement flared up a little bit every time she hinted at something between you and Steve.

Nat was one of the shrewdest people you ever met, and she didn't have the habit of stirring things for no reason.

So you believed her, and you hoped.

In that cabin, in that isolated little bubble, Steve was really all you had and vice versa. Selfishly, you wished you never had to leave. You found yourself imagining that you were an actual couple, maybe even married. That you had chosen to live together in that place, and that circumstances did not just force you together.

That image quickly came crashing down, the curtains closing in the middle of a play. Because that was all it was - make believe.

You and Steve were sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace one late night, your mind going haywire because his knee was pressed against yours. Your heartbeat skipping because he would pat your leg once in a while.

Maybe it was a Steve thing. Maybe it was just a gesture people make when they tell stories to their friends. But friends wouldn't lean in so close, would they?

He eagerly shared about his life in the 30s, when he was an asthmatic hundred-pound determined youngster. When he'd only ever been Steve. He kept a box of personal things that reminded him of his era, and the two of you perused through them. You smiled at the brochure from a museum exhibit that featured him and Bucky. Tried flicking on rusty old lighters. Jokingly saluted him while putting on the pins that were circulated when he was first introduced to the public as Captain America.

Your delusional self thought you noticed his focus drifting to your lips almost every time you replied to him, and that he got that look in his eyes.

But you reached in the box and picked up what looked like a compass. You pried it open, and one glance at his face told you everything.

In it was an image of Peggy Carter, you recognised. You knew all about her and her work for SHIELD. You knew her and Steve had been acquainted back in their day, but you didn't know how much.

He leaned back almost immediately, his touch no longer on you, looking like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"Peggy Carter, right?" you offered eventually, balancing the compass in your palm. From what you can recall, she had passed recently. But clearly her ghost was still haunting Steve.

"Y-yeah," he stammered, strangely unable to look you in the eye. "I met her just before I was put to the serum, actually."

Well, that's definitely something. She knew him when he was just Steve, and she saw him. That must have left a mark.

"So... can you tell me about her?" you asked to fill the silence. To quell the barage of intrusive thoughts you had.

Steve noticed the difference in your posture, straightened back and stiff smile. You had been freely laughing moments ago, and he had been too. He wouldn't be able to remember what he said after that, distracted by the sudden coldness in your expression. He must have said something about Peggy being good at her job. About how big of an impact she made on SHIELD.

You didn't want to ask about the obvious thing, and you didn't have to. You could see it in his eyes.

You were also responding on auto-pilot. Like you were simply making small talk. The mood had changed, and you hated yourself for not looking into Steve's file with more detail. There must have been clues there about his past relationship with Peggy.

But if you had known... then what?

You would have fallen for him anyway. But at least, you would be aware that you were falling for someone who wasn't yours to keep.

Because if there ever was something, Peggy's unfading light is one you don't want to compete with.

You let the conversation go on for a few minutes more, to not arouse his suspicion, before making some excuse about being tired and needing sleep.

Hold on, you heard him plead. Maybe you can show him one of the movies you kept telling him about? The one with the Anakin character you liked?

You did your best not to cave in.

Even if all you wanted was to crumble, and kiss him hard enough that any remnants of Peggy Carter still lingering would dissipate.

When you heard that your friend Mason needed some help getting Secretary Ross off his tail, you jumped on the opportunity to leave. Even though Natasha already said she would be on it.

Of course, she saw right through you.

The task was quick and easy and soon enough, the three of you were sitting on lawn chairs in front of her cozy trailer in Norway, when Mason cheekily commented on the little arrangement you had with the Captain America.

"How do you do it?" he joked. "Being under the same roof as him, and not getting some of that? I mean, I know you're all international criminals right now, but even criminals need some loving once in a while."

"Leave her alone," Natasha quipped, pointing at him.

"We're friends," you said defensively, to which Nat raised her eyebrows at you.

"Sure, hon," she said, before taking a swig of her beer. "Shouldn't you be making your way back to him? Steve must be worried."

You shrugged, but you knew she was right. It didn't feel right being away from him like that. Running away like you were a teenager acting out.

It took you only two days to come back, with the help of one of Mason's many smuggled helicopters.

You felt his presence immediately once you stepped foot in the cabin.

Days old newspapers sprawled on the kitchen counter. Fresh coffee on the pot. The surprising but pleasant smell of baked goods coming from inside the oven.

He materialised from your periphery, wiping his hands clean on a towel. Clean-shaven once more, your eyes getting drawn to his pink lips now in clear view.

"Did you - "

"Oh, yeah," he said, gesturing towards the oven. "I tried making you something. Nat called me and said you were on your way back."

That traitor.

But then Steve added, "Welcome back," with that sheepish smile on his face, and you forgot what you were supposed to be pretending to be annoyed at Nat for.

It was comfortable, familiar, like home, when you both silently enjoyed the blueberry muffins he prepared.

You expected him to lecture you, to remind you of the dangers of running off by yourself again. But he took a gentler approach.

It felt good when he made sure you were okay, asking the same question but in three iterations. Are you okay? Did everything go well? Does anything hurt at all?

Did he know why you left so abruptly? Did he suspect anything?

Later that evening, he brought up the fact that perhaps you both should be moving on to another safe place.

You felt his eyes glued onto you, gauging your reaction.

Taking a deep breath, you said, "Okay."

Steve had been practicing what to say, how to ask you, while you were away. He would suggest that you were safer together. That the two of you could go see Bucky for a time. That it was probably smarter for you to stick with someone like him - if you ever got caught, he could use himself as leverage, negotiate in order to lighten your sentence.

But all that was no longer needed, because you asked, "Where will we go?", without wavering.

We.

It turned out Steve wasn't going to lose his home, after all.

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The 1950s, six months after Steve's arrival

Steve is certain that there must be something wrong with him.

Maybe he's just been in the fray for far too long, going from one fight to the next, that now he is supposed to settle and be at peace - he can't.

It disappoints him. He's frustrated with himself. He's become angry.

It's not fair. How does he still feel like a man out of time for someone who has returned back to where he supposedly came from. Back to where he belongs.

Peggy has noticed his frustration, so she suggested they head down to a local fancy restaurant once a week.

A recurring date of sorts, giving them the chance to spend one-on-one time together. They had both been busy - Peggy with SHIELD, Steve with his newfound job managing a local community centre.

His job was simple enough, definitely less demanding than what he's used to, and he's satisfied that he still gets to be of service. He's also refurbishing their home. Doing everything to keep busy.

Everything to keep you out of his mind.

But Hunter would stroll in when he would fit the new wooden panels for the back porch.

Hunter, his dog. Named so because Steve had the thought that Huntress would appreciate the tribute.

You would, but you aren't there.

He's supposed to be at peace now. He's supposed to finally feel at home.

But he wasn't called the man out of time for no reason, and he's come to accept that maybe they had been onto something.

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2024, six months after Steve's departure

Bucky's date is going well. At least he thinks so. Not that he would have much knowledge on how these things go nowadays.

His first date as himself, James Barnes, since the 1940s. Leah's a lovely girl, but it was mostly due to yours and Yori's instigating that he caved in and asked her out.

Well, he didn't really ask. You did. But Leah was kind enough to accept.

The conversation is fine, flowing smoothly, a couple beers shared between the two.

Leah asks how old he is, and he replies dryly, "106."

Bucky isn't sure she got it, but it's better this way. She doesn't need to know who he is, or what he's done. She wouldn't understand.

As they play a round of Battleship, Bucky wonders if you would be good at this game, if you would playfully stare into his eyes much like Leah is doing.

He thinks of how much he likes your eyes, and the way you look at him.

But he is 106 after all, so he's not some fool. He suspects that he might be a stand-in for his revered lost bestfriend. Do you see him, and only him, or is he partially hidden behind Steve's shadow?

Do you keep him around, because he reminds you of him?

Bucky decides he's not ready to know the answer to those questions. Not just yet.

Leah makes another move. He lets her win.

He calls you right after the date. You did say that he should tell you all about it.

"So how was it?" you eagerly ask right away, not even bothering with a hello.

Bucky finds himself smiling at your voice, pausing on the sidewalk on the way back to his apartment, "Have you played Battleship before?"

Read chapter five here ~

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @kyoquixote @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer

Happy TTPD release day! I just knew The Bolter would be one of my favourites!!!

The final scene is in reference to the first episode of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Lil bit of a spoiler!!!! -- We'll see them all back together in the middle of that series.

There will only two-three more chapters of jumping back and forth in time. I'm also worried I'll confuse myself with the timeline. If the months/years aren't aligned with MCU canon, please ignore it.

Also - if not in the next one, then there will definitely be smut in chapter six. But with who???? Steve or Bucky? I'll let you guys speculate... 👀

[tofics]

Let There Be Light

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Part 3 to Almost Like You Need Someone

Summary: You, Dean and Sam are fighting America's monsters together. Coming from a long line of hunters, you fit right in with the Winchester boys, despite having been raised entirely different from the two. Where you were brought up with love and care, John raised Sam and Dean with rules and obedience. Seeing what Dean does for the world, you decide it's time that he gets his own share of love...

The three of you are out on a hunt when Bobby calls. He needs one of you to help out on a different case where one of his hunters isn't making any progress on his own. You open your mouth to volunteer, but Sam beats you to it by a mili-second. There's a strange sense of hastiness in the way he pledges his help to Bobby. Your own perplexity is mirrored in Dean's face as the two of you watch Sam throw his belongings together and then rush out the door in a flurry.

Dean eventually breaks the stunned silence that has settled in the room. "Dying to get out of here much?"

You're unsure of how to respond until he grins at you, his own uncertainty almost entirely hidden behind the boyish charm of his crooked grin. You release your own uncertainty in a short series of giggles which just widen Dean's grin.

"Well, look at it this way! More time for just you and me, then." You smile at him with one of your radiating smiles that, unbeknownst to you, make Dean's stomach flutter - before the realization hits, and the butterflies in his stomach break out into a frenzy.

You come to the realization about the same time as him, that suddenly, it's just the two of you without your buffer.

Oh dear.

One could think it doesn't make that big of a change, but it makes all the difference.

You and Dean return to your motel room late at night, looking like two people who just spent their last few hours digging through dirt, which in your case is more than accurate. Dean offers you to take the first shower and you happily agree. There's bits and pieces of dirt and God-knows-what on and in your clothes and you're itching, literally and figuratively, to just get out of them.

Your case, it turns out, was on the easy side for once. All you had to do was dig up some bones, then give them the old salt & fire treatment. The spirit vanished and that's that, case closed, work done.

Granted, there was a middle part where things got a bit gritty and you got thrown around a bunch, but it wasn't too bad, or at least so you think until the water hits your back and you involuntarily screech out in pain.

Dean calls out to see if you're okay and you call back something assuring, despite the gash on your back that you're somehow only now becoming aware of. It blooms in dark red on just below one of your shoulder blades and, now that you're aware of it, stings like hell. The rest of a shower is an awkward dance of trying to rid yourself of all the dirt while keeping water away from your wound. There have been easier tasks, but you've also been hurt a lot worse, so you don't feel like complaining much. Eventually, you leave the bathroom to make room for Dean, successfully avoiding him spotting the gash before he goes to take a shower. No point in worrying him, you think. You've been off worse. You'll have yourself patched up in no time.

Or so you think. But turns out the gash is in a really uneasy spot to reach, and no matter what, you just can't get the placing of the bandage right.

After Dean's turn, he finds you sitting on the bed with a t-shirt pressed to your front. Your back is bare and showing the nasty cut on your left shoulder. His eyes grow wide in shock and then narrow in concern an anger. "When'd this happen?" Three large strides and he's over by the bed. You shudder as his fingertips grace your skin. Dean thinks it's out of pain, but you barely feel the gash in your flesh. All you can think about is how his fingers feel on your skin, in a place he's never touched.

"This needs stitches." You watch as he gets to work and gathers the needed supplies; needle, yarn, a bottle of whiskey. He pours you a glass and then pours some over the needle. "Ready?" You chug your glass down and nod. It stings as the needle penetrates your skin and you hiss at the sensation.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know."

You know you should be in pain, and you are, but the butterflies in your stomach demand all of your attention, urged on by the whiskey in your system. They flutter around, fluttering against your insides, flapping their little wings so fast that you feel like you're vibrating from the inside out and you just wonder how Dean can't notice when the vibration is so strong that your hands are shaking. Sweetheart. That damn nickname again.

The whiskey reaches your head and sends it for a little spin while Dean continues to work on your back. Each needle pinch burns, but the pads of his other fingers gently resting on your skin to steady his hands are the more present sensation in your head.

"Almost done, sweetheart, you're doing so good." A breathy moan escapes your lips at his praise and you can't see it, but Dean's face is contorted from the pain he thinks he's causing you. He sees your shaking hands and curses himself for not having noticed that you were wounded earlier. With every stitch, the disappointment in himself for not having protected you grows. Every hole that he has to pierce through your skin feeds the growling monster inside of him that has been with him for years. It comes to life when he thinks he didn't do his best, that he let someone down. It roars when that someone is someone he cares about.

Dean stitches you up and the monster inside of him is thrashing and turning and clawing at his insides, furious that you're in pain when he came out unscathed.

You only notice the expression on his face when he's done patching you up. He walks past you with a grim face and pours himself his own glass of whiskey, then his second when the first one is quickly emptied. His anger confuses you - did you do something wrong?

Dean scoffs. "God, no, sweetheart, that one's all on me." There it is again, that nickname that turns your legs into melted butter, but now it's tinged with ugly sarcasm. You slide on your t-shirt carefully, belatedly realizing it's one of Dean's that you mistakenly grabbed from his bag instead of yours. It smells like washing powder and something that's distinctly Dean.

Lord have mercy.

You approach him and gently lay a hand on his arm. "Hey." He turns to you and his forehead is lined with wrinkles, the anger and concern etched into his skin. And despite the butterflies in your stomach, you can't help but lay a hand on his cheek as your protective instincts win.

A breath hitches in Dean's throat as your hand touches his cheek. Your skin feels ever so soft against the stubble on his jaw. It matches the softness in your eyes, the same look he's seen you give to the grieving. "This isn't on you." He sees your lips move and hears the words leave your mouth, but they don't register in his head. His sight and sense of touch are overshadowing everything else. The sight of your lips and the feeling of your hand on his cheek are all he can focus on and he feels like you're flooding him with light from the inside out.

"This isn't on you." You search Dean's face for any recognition of your words, but he doesn't respond. Instead, you watch how his lips part slightly, forming a surprised 'o' as his eyes change from dark to light and you can feel the anger dissipating like water on hot stone. You watch as the older Winchester brother turns from stone to life under your touch and all you can think is how it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

What just happened?

"What...?" You ask with a smile on your lips and Dean feels like his head might explode and shoot fireworks up into the sky.

He decides then that you have to know what you do to people, what you do to him. That your light shines brighter than anyone else's he's ever seen and he needs it more than he needs the sun itself.

His hand finds yours on his cheeks as he cups your face with his other and he sees your pupils widen in response.

"You...," he starts, but can't find the right words to properly articulate what he feels on the inside, the light and warmth you instill in him. The look of concern on your face almost makes him laugh, but instead, it just fills him with more love for you. Here you are, wounded, and yet you're worried that he's feeling too guilty over the fact that you got hurt in the first place.

"Do you know how incredible you are?" The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes it. He watches you blink in surprise and then smile that amazing smile, so full of warmth and happiness and so damn infectious that he feels the corners of his own lips rising.

You have a tendency of surprising Dean, but even so, he never could have predicted your next words. "Do you know how incredible you are?" It's not even a question of whether you mean it, he knows you do. You comment on the good in people often and it always goes over his head how with all the crap that's going on in the world, you still find a way to see the light in everyone. But where he already has trouble seeing light in other people, he doesn't really see it in himself.

"Mhh." Dean brushes a thumb over your cheek. Now or never, he thinks. "'Fraid I don't, but that's what I got you for, hm? You shine so bright, you illuminate everyone around you. Even me. Make me see light where there wasn't any before. Maybe... maybe someday I'll even see it in myself, if you'll help me see it."

Whomp. There it is. He can't believe he's put it out there, just like that. But that's what you do to him. He can bullshit his way through life, even lie to Sammy if he has to, but not to you. You bring out the truth in him like there's no other option in the first place.

Dean watches your face for a reaction, somehow convinced that this is where you'll draw the line and finally shut him out. There's an entire world of people waiting to be touched by your light, why should he get special treatment?

But you don't retreat or draw your hand back from his face. Instead, your beautiful eyes stay locked on his, and despite the uncertainty inside of him he feels the warmth and calm radiating from your gaze and seeping into him. How do you do that?!

And then suddenly, out of all the things you could do, you lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his lips. It's so sudden and your lips are so soft that when they're gone, Dean's not entirely sure he didn't make the moment up in his mind.

"I'll help you see how good you are, no matter how long it takes, Dean Winchester," you whisper and lean your head against his chest.

Sam, of course, notices the difference immediately when he returns. You and Dean are still awkward around each other, but the undertone has changed entirely. You're no longer desperately trying to make your love invisible to each other but to him, entirely unaware of the fact that out of the three of you, Sam was the first to know. But even then, if he hadn't known, it'd still be hard to miss. There are a lot of 'hidden' smiles between the two of you that are anything but hidden and glances at each other that even a blind person would have a hard time missing. Your attempts of staying neutral around each other are so painfully obvious that Sam doesn't last longer than a day before finally speaking up.

"Probably best if I pick my own room at the next stop," he mentions casually while the three of you are on the road to the next hunt. Both Dean and you react confused, but Sam makes quick work of shushing both of you. "Come on, you guys. I know. I'm just glad you two finally do too. Only took you forever to realize that you're in love with each other." Sam rolls his eyes and then stupidly grins to himself about the silence that settles in the car. You and Dean look properly shocked, yet neither of you tries to deny it. One glance in the rearview mirror and Sam sees the smile you're trying to bite away, a bit of color flushing your cheeks. Next to him, his brother has his eyes dead-set on the road ahead of him, but he knows Dean well enough to see the smug-yet-happy expression he's trying his hardest to hide. Sam can't help but chuckle.

"Happy for the two of you. But seriously. I want my own room."

A/N: Here we are, the mini-series is all wrapped up! 🥰 I had so much fun bringing this to the happy end they both deserve. I hope I did everyone's expectations justice - let me know what you thought! :)

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

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No pressure taglist: @deans-spinster-witch @zo-byeol @shanimallina87 @zepskies @artyandink

[iifishizzleii]

no because the real f!american y/n isn’t a southern sweetheart. she isn’t a small, pretty thing with a viper’s tongue who has a soft spot for the 141.

she’s a military brat who despises politicians, hates america but is the only one in the task force allowed to hate america, shits on british foods, and is as big as the rest of the men because she fucking hates working out but she refuses to have her bench press PR be beaten by a guy that asks for a ‘cuppa’ after a mission. she grew up with both sisters and brothers, and knows how to cook/clean not because she loves it but because it’s a basic human necessity.

she’s got a temper, but she can control it because she’s a grown ass woman. she’s kind of awkward and quiet at first being the only woman on a previously all-male military team, in a career dominated by men. but, they’re respectful if not awkward as well, unsure of how a woman would fit into their space, and they realize how dirty their previous habits are when they notice how tidied she is. she doesn’t clean up after them nor does she take care of them, but she does inspire better hygiene habits in the men that keep them from smelling less like greasy mud slabs.

she wears the same uniform as the men, and her hair hasn’t grown past her shoulders in years because it’s a hassle to constantly braid/tie into a bun to be kept up during missions. her call sign would be inspired by something stupid or ridiculous she did, because that’s how most callsigns are made. probably something like ‘buck tooth’ because she called soap a ‘buck toothed buick-built bitch’ during an argument of whether american sweet tea was better than britains (she won through sheer creative insults).

she’s not the picture beauty most people visualize because war dirties everyone, and being a woman doesn’t stop her knees from falling in the dirt. she’s not the brains of the team either, but she isn’t the breath of fresh air that brings humanity to the team either. she’s funny when she wants to be, creative in the moment but can’t solve a math problem for her life, vulnerable only because she knows it’s out of trust for her team, not weakness. she gets into arguments, sometimes adds toxicity to an already broiling argument, and starts fights that get physical. and there’s no apologies, just days of silence until she’s suddenly talking to the men again (those days of silence are hell on the new recruits).

for me, f!american y/n is what a lot of other countries know americans to be like meshed together— kind, a little arrogant, dumb but not stupid, strong through sheer will, and america’s #1 hater until someone else who isn’t tries to hate on them. <3

[arbiterlexultionis]

Instant Eternity

Time travel involving the infinite realms is truly a bizarre thing. Sometimes it follow one set of rules, and sometimes that set of rules may as well not exist. Usually, however, it works in one of two ways, the first is when the time travel is achieved through artificial means such as clockworks portals and allows for the altering of the timeline as one would expect time travel would allow. The other type of time travel is through natural means, portals usually, and it’s just that, Natural. That portal to the past opened up in the past the same moment it did in the present. If you step into the portal in the year 2000 then you already stepped out of the portal hundreds of years ago. It’s A Thing That Already Happened. Danny himself experienced this, as while chasing Vlad through time they fought in the middle of a Roman coliseum and, whoopsy daisy, set a really big fire. A fire which Danny had learned about years before he even had his accident.

So, the infimap can take the user anywhere, anywhen. And the infimap is just that, a map. It doesn’t make new roads, it just drags you across already existing paths. So it is a natural form of time travel, if you use it to go in time to kill your grandfather in order to insure your never born your interference will result in your grandparents falling in love and your birth.

Danny realizes that anytime he needs to heal from a battle or has gone 156 hours without sleeping or eating he can use the infimap to pop back to the past for a few days and then have the map bring back to the “Present”, exactly one second after he left. A three week vacation that lasted one second. At first he’s really wary about using this, worried about accelerated aging or getting lost in the time stream and a hundred other issues. At first.

It’s been months sense the accident. Sam and Tucker have both shot up several inches. Danny, on the other hand, hasn’t grown sense the accident. At all. They fought a ghost who could rapidly age opponents, a single slap turned Tucker into a decrepit old man. The ghost wrapped his hands around Danny’s throat and spent 5 minutes trying to strangle him while Danny bought time for Sam and Tucker to pull off the plan. The sucked him into the thermos, his influence on time ceased so Tucker returned to his proper state. “Jeez it sure is lucky he didn’t try and age me, right guys? Ha ha ha”. Danny gets blasted through a natural portal while making a trip through the zone and spends years trying to get home, not aging a day.

He can’t deny it after that, can’t ignore it. He’s immortal. He’s going to live forever. He’s going to watch his friends and family whither away and die out. He’s going to have to spend the rest of his life wandering from place to place trying not to get outed as the same 14 year old who save someone’s great great grandma 100 years ago.

After having his first middeath crisis, suddenly the only reasons he had to not spend years on end wandering the world and the past is gone, even if he loses the infimap, worst case scenario he’ll just take the long way home. Suddenly, he’s dreading the next 80 years of the “Present”. He decides that if he’s going to watch his friends and family grow old and frail he’s going to make sure it’s takes as long as it possibly could, from his perspective. By the time they’re 20 Danny’s gonna have 200 years under his belt.

He becomes a temporal tourist, hopping into the past every time the late night fights and schoolwork become to much. Spends years in every civilization imaginable, mastering every skill he can, leaving legends in his wake.

I feel like Danny and his adventures do have a lot of potential for story’s, as it’s a pretty good setup for having Danny in any type of time period or historical event for extended periods of time, fighting in the trenches of World War I, exploring the Americas during the era of colonialism, sailing the seas a swashbuckling vigilante pirate. I, however, have most of my related ideas being based around crossovers. So most of that will be in part two, so that people who like to filter out all that can still see this post.

[hazellvsq]

frank and piper are interesting counterpoint narratives to me. both of them have relatively mundane problems compared to the rest of the cast yet their parent's domains represent the heights of human passion as defined by the series, despite piper and frank both being (outwardly) dispassionate and (inwardly) mopey. the good end of these domains is love and protection (selfless), the bad end is heartbreak and bloodlust (selfish), which both of them try to resist. they both get claimed last out of their trios and had beforehand assumed that they were the children of someone else. both also experience perceived rejection from their mortal family directly before the series begins - both express anger and hurt at being "sent away". their rejection and unexpected claiming, back-to-back, results in discombobulation for them both, and feelings of humiliation brought on by both sets of parents.

they also both go through forced physical transformations by their parents to fit an ideal they don't want. all of the characters experience issues of identity and self-esteem but i think its the most pronounced with these two in the series. neither of them really knows who they are, and are pessimistic about their own capabilities. they are also counterpoints in that they feel disconnected from their own looks - both are very self-conscious people, but, based on how they're described by other characters, piper is probably the most beautiful member of the 7 and frank is probably the least. piper is frequently harassed and objectified, whereas frank is teased constantly about his looks. he neither feels as childish as his face is nor as grown as his body is, and he doesn't understand how to move through the world. both of which are common experiences throughout puberty - suddenly being treated differently on the basis of a body that's changing faster than you want or understand.

(discourse alert) i don't have a lot to add to the piper transformation discourse except that i do think its interesting that her blessing was temporary within the book and her love interest actually self-reflected on his reaction to it and realized that he should not have told her that she looked hot in that instance. rick did reverse frank's transformation five years later and i'm curious about his thought process about both writing it in the first place and in reversing it, and what feedback he received, if any. piper's transformation was a makeover whereas frank's was a puberty, which later rick walked back with "actually frank is still going through puberty". piper's was cheesy, sure, but frank's falls so flat bc that's just not how it works. its too much of a stretch. i don't even think it was in rick's og plan for frank, maybe he just watched captain america and was like "hell yeah i should do that" and flipped a coin between frank and leo, bc again frank was already initially described as physically grown in his debut book. and i can't even talk about hazel's reaction to to it bc its not real to me and i can't read suddenly. idk frank's plotline in general was too rushed in that book and he should have gotten another pov chapter set at least bc rick was trying to do too much too fast and relied on idiocy like the transformation to support it in the place of real character work when it wasn't even necessary for anything he accomplished in the book. he could've just walked around with better posture and achieved the same effect.

[luvlyycy]

twin😋 we need to see Ed's cultural shock when he goes clubbing in america, it's 2000s night at the club, with his chubby reader. She's shaking her hips and twerking in the crowd of people and Ed can't help but to stare. Imagine if Ed has a problem with the idiot standing next to her bc he grabs her hips. I wanna see some bump and grind in the club😋

Bonus points if reader is wearing low rise pants/skirt and a thong. extra bonus points if reader has hipdips. (i fucking love hipdips) you get a brownie point if the thong song starts playing😋😋🫶🏼

DID I GET ALL THE POINTS??? ALSO I LOVE U FOR THIS IDEA THANKKSKSSSS RRRRAAGGGGG (theres no explicit smut in this but its vv suggestive i also recommend listening to the songs featured in the fic when they play cus it works lmao) enjoyyyy <3

Ed stifles a tiny yelp, his arm around your waist as he watches many individuals grind against each other in what seems like dancing, multiple girls bumping into his broad chest.

"are they all like this?" he yells over the bumping music, still astonished by your clothes, you giggle into him and nod yes as his finger dips underneath the thong peaking through your skirt. Ed makes a shocked face before laughing due to nervousness, he looks up again at all the people noticing the 2000's theme.

he finally realizes why you had him dress this way— white tanktop with black wings drawn on the back, along with baggy jeans, simple black bracelets adorning his wrists, silver chain around his neck.

the song 'peaches and cream' slowly coming to an end, fading into the next track on the songlist.

"....this song right here, is lettin' all the ladies know what guys talk about." the singer begins in the song, and Ed watches your face light up, handing your drink to him.

"this is my fucking song, Ed !!" you excitedly cheer, running onto the dance floor— putting a considerable amount of stress into Ed's soul because he thought your skirt was gonna ride up too high over your ass.

he stares at your body as you lift your arms in the air, swaying your hips to the bump of the beat, girls beside you cheering you on. he's quite literally in a trance, watching the soft bounce of your belly and the dips on your hips practically making hearts in his eyes.

you're even singing along with the song, "lemme see that thooonnngg !!! —" you yell a little more than you sing, back arching so you shake your plump ass, multiple girls mimicking slapping it.

what is with america? are all girls like this? what kinda club is this? he frowns when he notices all the guys looking at you, your sparkly lip gloss glistening in all the bright lights. you turn to him and call him on the dance floor, but he psyches himself out as he looks where you are—

men and women grinding against each other as if they were horny teenagers, all dressed with the same theme as well. he softly shakes his head 'no', he wasn't much of a dancer anyway. you tilt your head in confusion but continue to dance your heart out.

suddenly, a random guy wraps his hands around your waist, sliding against your soft tummy, resting on your hips. you turn back, expecting to see your boyfriend— seeing a mediocre man compared to who you belonged to. he smiles politely as he begins to dance along with you, hips rolling into your behind to the song. Ed's face contorts with anger as he slams both of your drinks onto the counter, non-alcoholic unlike the stupid asshat in front of him.

Ed stomps over, upper lip twitching upward similar to Balrog when he gets angry. he places his hand flat on the guy's shoulder, causing him to jump— Ed leans closer, head tilting upwards as he looks down at the brown-haired idiot.

"fuck ya doin', hah? can't keep your greasy hands to yourself?" he's close enough to where he doesn't have to raise his voice too much so the guy can hear him. he listens to the guy stutter, hands immediately being thrown up in surrender, "i-i didn't see you, man. i swear!" Ed lets out a soft 'tch' before just simply pushing the dude back, causing him to stumble into his friends— eyes softening as he looks back at you.

you look up at him, smiling before giggling out, "what a weirdo, right?" you lean closer so he can hear you— "yeah, he's an asshole for sure." .

suddenly, the song switches— beat slow as it starts out, "....welcome to my sex room...." Ed laughs at the audacity of the lyrics before you begin to grind on him to the slow beat, his hands flying to your hips— carressing the way your skin dips.

you turn around and grind your ass on his crotch, back arching as you place your hands on your knees— ass swaying side to side. Ed licks his teeth as he grinds into you as well, hand running down your back as he leans backwards to get a better view of you— his other hand dipping underneath your showing thong.

man, you gotta take him to more clubs.

[reidscaffeine]

A Horse With No Name • s.r

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*

inspired by this song and the jet scene at the end of episode 7 season 15!

content : fluff/pining lovers, friends in love - all that good stuff!

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*

Mindlessly bumping my foot against a very familiar Converse shoe underneath the jet table, almost out of instinct and comfort at this point - not even realizing I’m doing it till I feel the person across the table reciprocate the movements against my own comfortable and worn loafer. The movements of our feet mimicked the soft buzz of the jet engine, lifting my head sheepishly to look at the owner of the famous Converse, Spencer Reid.

Feeling the edges of my mouth immediately starting to lift up into a content smile once I met his gaze, suddenly getting swept into his irises that resemble rich honey pots; sticky and trapping my attention. I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at the poor man sitting across from me, my heart thumping in my chest starting to feel all too similar to the engine sounds and the quiet thud of our shoes making contact. The one thing that breaks me out of my trance is my best friend himself, by awkwardly clearing his throat and raising his eyebrows in my direction.

I feel my cheeks immediately heat up and refocus my gaze on the book that sits comfortably in his hands - I never knew it was possible to envy an inanimate object so much, until all these years I’ve had to watch Reid carry these books with the utmost care, love and respect. Watching the way he caresses the spine and lightly traces the pages till he can envision the words in his mind without sneaking a second glance at the pages. Is it normal to be jealous of a book? I could only compare it to the world playing a cruel trick on me, everytime I watched Reid pick up a book from his satchel, the book mocking me in a way, gloating to me and how badly I could be the thing that Reid would carry with the same care and love, the exact way I wish I could carry and hold him.

After realizing my downfall, that is once again, staring at my best friend for an uncomfortable amount of time, I try to divert my attention back to the song playing in my ears and attempting to untangle my foot from his ankle. This seemed to become a ritual between us, sitting in the back of the jet away from the others, he would read whichever book had stolen his attention that day and I would sit and listen to music whilst stealing painful glances at my best friend.

“On the first part of the journey

I was looking at all the life

There were plants and birds and rocks and things

There was sand and hills and rings”

Trying to play my staring off as casually as possible, I started to flicker my eyes between the jet window and the suddenly very interesting table top, sitting between us and putting a very unwanted distance between us (at least on my part). I watched the clouds and the shades of blue and gray throughout the sky, feeling suspended in time and wishing I could always feel like this. I was soon broken from my train of thoughts by Reid’s fingers dancing across the table and into my eyeline, grasping for my attention. Eagerly lifting my head up and looking into his eyes with a flat smile, I removed one of my headphones and spoke in a voice that was only reserved for him, soft and full of adoration even if he didn’t realize.

“Yes, Reid? What can I do for you?”

He returned my smile and started speaking in a soft and quiet voice - a voice that I would listen to for the rest of my life instead of all the music in the world, “You seem quite lost in your thoughts today, care to share what’s on your mind?”. I had to bite my tongue there and then, the more rational part of my brain telling me that this isn’t him inviting me to spill my undying love for him that seems to fill my lungs every time I’m within his reach. Raising my eyebrows at his statement and giving him a soft reassuring shrug and gazing back out of the jet window “I’m just thinking... how different my life would be in a parallel universe and what I would be doing instead of being sat here” - It wasn’t a lie, it was something that circled my mind frequently, I just hoped that no matter what universe I was in, Reid would be sat across from me in the same way he is now.

He continued to gaze at me as I spoke, I watched as the corners of his mouth started to move upwards into an amused smile and he raised his eyebrows again and nodded for me to continue with sharing my train of thought. I looked down at the hands fidgeting in my lap and looked back at him, not wanting to spend a second longer not looking at him and I continued “Have you ever thought about it? In a different life, what would you be doing if you weren’t an FBI agent?”

His smile became more pronounced and a soft shade of pink crept onto his cheeks as he ever so carefully closed his book and moved it to the side, glancing over his shoulder as if he was going to reveal his deepest secret and he looked back at me and I swore for a second, his eyes reflected the same adoration that swims in my eyes whenever he enters my vision. He nodded, “You promise not to laugh?” It still amazed me how this man thought that his words and thoughts, even the silly and immature ones, were nothing but close to biblical scriptures and the only thing here that resembled anything of a joke was my undying love for the very oblivious man sitting across from me. All I could think to do without letting those thoughts slip off my tongue was an awkward encouraging smile and leaning forward to make sure I didn’t miss his next words.

“A cowboy...” he said in a soft voice whilst avoiding my gaze and all I could think of was the nervous and fumbling Spencer Reid I had met, back when he wore glasses and his hair slicked back. I echoed his words in a voice just as soft and I waited for further explanation.

“Mhm, you know.. I’d have some horses, a few cattle and be surrounded by nature” His face and posture suddenly relaxed as he put the idea into our current universe, I could only look on at him in fascination and pray to a God somewhere, that in his western world I could exist. Wanting to get more of an insight into his mind - “What would you do with cattle?” and if I thought his voice was the most melodic sound to my ears, the light chuckle that bounced from him soon became the most beautiful thing to fall upon my ears ��I don’t know, look at ‘em, pet ‘em. I hadn’t really thought about that but I’ll figure it out.”

The only thing that made this conversation better besides his voice, was the song playing in my right ear as he spoke -

“I've been through the desert on a horse with no name It felt good to be out of the rain

In the desert you can't remember your name

'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain”

I immediately perked up and quickly motioned for him to take the seat next to me and pushed the words at such a fast pace I’m surprised he registered them “Oh my gosh Reid, you have to come and listen to this song!’ The look of confusion washed over his face as he clearly thought I’d abandoned his idea of a peaceful life but it was far from that. As he fidgeted around to get comfortable, our shoulders, arms and thighs brushed together and it felt more like home than ever before. I reached over and placed a headphone into his ear and left my hand suspended in the ear, my body and heart begging to let the rational side of my brain brush my hand against his cheek and hair but I painfully pulled away and watched his reaction to the lyrics.

“You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name It felt good to be out of the rain

In the desert you can't remember your name

'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain”

His face broke out into a smile and a soft laugh ricocheted from his chest and the familiar tinge of pink radiated on the soft skin of his cheeks and the tips of his ear. He gave a slight content hum and gazed down at my fidgeting hands in my lap. He reached over and enveloped one into one of his own - and they fitted together like pages being bound to a book. As always in the presence of Spencer, I was proven wrong because the light brushing of our thighs felt like home but the feeling of my hand enveloped in his, made me realize that’s what home actually felt like and I never wanted it to end. He leaned in closer to my ear and softly whispered amongst the tune of the song playing ‘’And you would be there, with me and the horses and the cattles of course...” the words trailed off but I heard them and I thought my rib cage would give way to the thumping of my heart in that exact moment and all I could muster back “Me? I would be there?” and all Spencer could do was shake his head and another soft laugh. As he peered past me and out of the window and into the clouds as if he was imagining this ranch lifestyle, with me, the cattle and the cows.

“Of course you would be there, I wouldn’t want any other life if you weren’t there...” and that confession was all I needed to finally come to an understanding that no matter what universe we were in, whether it was the one where we were sat on the jet or on a ranch, Spencer would always my heart and I would too always have a piece of his.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 1

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist

Rating:  E

Warnings:  On the series; smut, family trauma, bad workplaces  On this chapter; sexual innuendo

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count:  3109

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

A/N:  IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THE REMAINDER OF THIS SERIES, EITHER ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST OR SEND ME A MESSAGE

Chapter 1

It was the dream life.  An apartment on the upper west side of New York, located in a beautiful old brownstone.  A career in journalism.  Getting to interview an actual Avenger.  When Melody Danes boiled down her life to its bones, it was exactly how she had planned it out.

Of course, that did ignore some pretty glaring oversights.  Like how she actually had two jobs.  The journalist position was an underpaid internship that barely covered food let alone rent and bills.  Or that the internship was with the Daily Bugle, one of the most despicable publications in the world, with the worst boss she had ever worked for.  Or how she lived with her cousin in a one-bedroom apartment, because neither of them could afford anything bigger in the city - even with Bobbi working three jobs.  Something that left Melody relegated to a bed that was walled off from the rest of the living room with bamboo screens, while Bobbi got the bedroom because she paid the bigger portion of the rent.  Or the fact that the apartment itself was a shit hole that had unreliable plumbing, heat, and super to fix anything.

Still, she didn’t like to complain.  She was in New York, the city she’d dreamed about living in her whole life.  Plus, there were worse roommates than Bobbi.  Melody and Bobbi had grown up in the same small town in Oregon.  They weren’t technically even cousins, but rather the children of best friends who had been born a few months apart.  The two ‘cousins’ had grown up together being subjected to years and years of taunting about when the two would get married, and constant mentions of Bobbi being Melody’s boyfriend despite the fact Melody had always seen Bobbi more as a sibling than a potential romantic partner.

Of course, back then Bobbi had been known as Roberto.  Interestingly, as soon as she’d transitioned, all jokes about Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez had stopped immediately because suddenly, it wasn't only Melody and Bobbi being made to feel uncomfortable but their parents as well.

The two had remained close throughout everything and had made the promise that they would support each other to get their dreams realized.  Melody’s dream of being a journalist or author, and Bobbi’s of acting.  Yes, there were occasional disagreements that popped up stemming from sharing such a small space, but through it all they’d held on to that support.

That was why, when Melody had come home freaking out about the fact she was going to interview the Captain America - and not just for a short piece, but an in-depth personality profile over a week, Bobbi was the first one to congratulate her.  She then brought all her friends from her job at the dinner theatre to help find her something to wear.

It was why she was now headed down East 45th in heels that were a little too big and a pantsuit that was a little flashier than she would have liked, looking for the Comfort Diner.

Despite being a little wobbly on her feet, she felt good.  Nervous.  Excited.  But good.  The pantsuit did make her look professional, and her friends had done her hair so her black curls were pinned back in an almost 1920s-style wave that was folded over in a loop at the nape of her neck.  Her makeup was immaculate and her copper complexion gave off an almost glow in the light.  More importantly, this interview was her golden ticket.  It wasn’t even supposed to be Melody that got this interview.  The person who was originally assigned to it had written one too many scathing think pieces about the Avengers. She’d been told neither Captain Rogers nor any of the other Avengers were willing to talk to her anymore.  A quick scramble through the other reporters had only brought back people who were either in the middle of assignments or were equally loathed by the Avengers and so they had handed it to the intern with the most promise.  Melody Danes.

As she made her way down the street, her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. It was just a brief catch, but given her shoes were the wrong size it caused her to stumble forward directly into a huge wall of muscle.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” the wall said as it steadied her with large hands.

She was about to answer that ‘she was until some stranger called her ma’am’ when she looked up into the clear blue eyes of Captain America, and the words caught in her throat.

He was somehow even more attractive in person.  He had a broad chest and muscular arms that seemed to be testing the tensile strength of his shirt as he supported her.

That was not what drew her attention most.  His face held her captivated.  His skin was flawless, his pores so small they almost looked airbrushed out, and his complexion was the color of peaches and cream.  He had a square jaw and a straight, narrow nose that both exuded masculinity. Yet, his high cheekbones, full lips, and long dark eyelashes were all beautifully feminine.  All this paired with the pale blue of his eyes and for a moment she was lost for words.

“I’m fine,” she said when her brain finally kicked into place again.  “Embarrassed mostly.  I’m actually going to meet you for lunch.”

“You’re the one from the Bugle?” Steve asked, his tone giving away his surprise.

“That’s right,” she said, straightening herself out.  She offered him her hand.  “I’m Melody Dane from DB.  Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Steve replied, shaking her hand.  “I guess you just weren’t what I expected.”

The two began making their way to the diner together, both still staring at each other.

“What were you expecting?” she asked.

Steve shrugged.  “I don’t know, to be honest.  A trilby with a press pass sticking out of it?”

She started laughing.  “I’ll wear one next time.  Though I do have my press pass here if you’d like me to stick it in my hair or something.”

Steve’s laughter joined her and he shook his head.  “That’s okay.  You can keep it in your purse.”

They entered the cute little 50s-style diner and took one of the booths up the back.  The greeter set them up with menus and left to get their drinks while they decided what they wanted.  She set up her recorder and notepad on the table.

“So, I’m not sure what it is you were after,” Steve said as his eyes flicked over the menu.  “The Bugle is always just investigative reporting, and if I’m honest, they don’t do a great job investigating.”

She laughed.  “You’re telling me,” she said.  “It’s barely above a tabloid magazine.  It runs on sensationalism.  But with the way that the internet is affecting print media, they’re trying to branch out into different things.  This is technically a profile piece for a yet-to-be-named magazine.  They want a story about the man behind the shield.  I’ll come talk to you a few times over the next week.  We’re going to do a little tour of Brooklyn so you can tell me how it’s changed.  Other than that, whatever access you’re willing to give me, the better I can craft the article.  I’m not here to make you look bad.  We just want a piece that shows the world that there’s more to you than a flag.”

“How does that fit in with Jameson’s whole superhero menace thing he does?  I mean, this was going to be conducted by Norah Winters, right?  She’s not exactly our biggest fan either?” Steve asked.

“I’m not Norah Winters,” Melody said.  “Norah Winters couldn’t even get you to agree to sit down with her.  I’m hoping that the fact they chose me after running through just about everyone else in the paper, might allow for some room to grow trust.”

Steve nodded and poured himself a glass of water. “Okay.  Well, I’m here.  I guess we’ll see how we go.”

“My first question is; why did you want me to meet you here?  You were asleep for the 1950s, so it can’t be a nostalgia thing,” she asked.

“Honestly?  I’ve never actually been here before,” Steve said.  “I just wanted somewhere that wasn’t intruding on my space, that was relaxed enough that I didn’t feel like I was on display.”

“Do you often feel on display?” she asked.

“All the time,” he said.  “Since the day I was given the serum.  It’s part of the job.  There are people out there who are okay just saving the day and slinking back into the shadows, but what I do - or at least what I hope I’m doing - is giving people someone to rally behind.  It means that I draw attention to myself and I have to make sure that what I believe in is stated clearly or people use me as a symbol of oppression.  It means that I need to teach with actions, not words.”

The waitress came over with the drinks and Melody and Steve placed their orders.  She opted for the soup and sandwich, while Steve went for the steak.

When she was alone again, she took a sip of her coffee and watched Steve toy with his cup. The white branded mug looked tiny in his hands.  “Does that get hard?” she asked.  “Being on all the time.  I mean no one is perfect.”

He nodded.  “But I hope what I do helps in some way.  Not just the obvious ones where I save lives because of an alien attack.  But maybe if people see that I am standing up for people, they might do it too.  I mean - I wasn't always this-” he gestured vaguely to himself.  “I was this tiny guy with a huge list of medical conditions….”

“I did read that list,” she said.  She’d done her research coming into this.  She’d known Steve Rogers had been marked 4F several times and that the list of his medical conditions was as long as her arm.  “People always seem to always focus on the asthma, but some of those conditions are debilitating.”

Steve nodded.  “I was a perpetual letdown for my father.  All he wanted was a good strong son who could follow in his footsteps, but what he got was a sick kid they didn’t expect would make it to adulthood,” he explained.  “The ulcers paired with the anemia were the worst.  I had to eat a pound of raw liver a day but I was constantly throwing up or having heartburn.  You're right, there were a lot of conditions but those two were the worst.  It’s given me a weird relationship with food now.”

She was surprised by how open he was.  She’d expected him to be a little more closed off this early on and yet, he was freely sharing details about the trouble he had growing up.  “What do you mean by that?”

The waiter chose that moment to bring over their meals.  Steve looked down at the steak in front of him.  “Well, take this,” he said.  “Steak is fine.  But is it what I wanted?  I’m not even sure.  I chose it because it looked like it was the best combination of protein and carbohydrates to get me through until dinner.  The serum has made it so I burn through calories so fast, so if I eat something like pancakes or pie, I end up having a crash an hour or so later.  And I can’t have that because it means I have to eat again.  And for a guy who grew up through the great depression with medical conditions that made it so that he had to eat pounds of raw meat that I’d just end up throwing up - well I can’t take constantly eating throughout the day.”

Her heart broke for him and she had to resist the urge to reach over the table and take his hand.  “So what you’re saying is, you really wished you’d ordered pancakes?”

He gave a little side nod.  “Kinda, yeah,” he said.  “But even acknowledging that out loud - I will still just eat this steak.  But I’ll feel uncomfortable eating in front of you because you’re a stranger, even though I need it to get through the rest of the day.”

She nodded in understanding.  The burden of trauma was a hard thing to shake.  Even if you were a superhero.  “That really does suck.  I do understand it though.  It’s hard to retrain yourself.  In fact, if you figure out how to do it, let me know.”

He smiled at her and began to cut his steak.  She took a moment to take a bite from her sandwich.  It was surprisingly good for something from a diner and she couldn’t help the soft hum that escaped her lips.  “I don’t want you to have to dwell too much on your illnesses if you don’t want to - but I do have one more specific question about it.  Is it true they used to treat asthma with cigarettes back then?”

Steve laughed.  “They used to treat lots of things with cigarettes,” he said.  “The asthma ones weren’t usually tobacco cigarettes mind you.  Not that they were necessarily better than tobacco ones.  If memory serves me arsenic and belladonna were some key ingredients used.  They also told my mom to give them to me for the scoliosis and heart palpitations.  But they played havoc on my stomach. They also told me I should drink a lot of coffee.”

She shook her head in disbelief.  “You ever wonder what the things we all accept as true now will be looked at as being completely crazy in the future?”

Steve thought for a moment and when he spoke it was almost like he was talking to himself.  “Circumcision.”

She nearly choked on her soup, which made Steve laugh and lean over, patting her on the back.  “I’m sorry.  It was the first thing that popped into my head.  I mean - that wasn’t even something people did much out of religious reasons back in my day.”

“You’re totally right.  They brought it in in the fifties to stop men masturbating, but I wasn’t expecting Captain America to bring up circumcision,” she said, still laughing.

“I’m so sorry,’ Steve said again.  “God - I can’t believe I did that.” 

“It’s fine,” she giggled. “Seriously.  Oh man…”

Steve ran his hand down his face.  “I will say this though,” he said.  “Even after all this time with the serum, I still feel like I’m that guy.  I still feel like that 95-pound piece of chewed bubblegum.  I still remember every time I got beaten by some bully trying to keep me down and I still remember getting up, because my mom always said you keep getting up or they win.  I still go into every battle remembering that and holding it with me, because I know what it’s like to have someone try and use their strength to keep me down and I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.”

She nodded and wrote the quote ‘I still feel like that 95-pound piece of chewed up bubblegum’ into her notebook.  “What did it feel like when you changed?”

“It was really sudden.  I went into this thing that was like a metal coffin and pumped full of these drugs while they irradiated me.  The process was excruciatingly painful.  I started changing right away.  It felt like I was being stretched out in all directions.  Then it stopped and the pain stopped with it.  And not just the pain of the change.  All my pain.  My stomach didn’t hurt.  My chest didn’t hurt.  I didn’t have pain in my back.  When I took a breath it went in easily and filled my lungs.  And then on top of the very noticeable lack of pain, I had other things, like my heart didn’t feel like it was racing for a change.  I could see colors properly.  I don’t even think I could describe what that was like.  And all of it mixed together …” he trailed off and shook his head.  “I apologize, I’m going to be crass again and I hope that you might do me the favor by paraphrasing this, so I don’t sound like some kind of pervert, but it was like that feeling you have when you orgasm, only magnified by a hundred.” 

“Wow,” she said and took a large bite from his sandwich.  She chewed it thoughtfully as she tried to imagine how extreme that would feel.  “That’s something.”

He nodded. “It’s a shame that they lost the formula.  I mean - I know having a bunch of rogue super-soldiers out in the world isn’t necessarily a good thing, but if there was a way you could cure disease as easily as that still out in the world, imagine how far we would have come by now?”

She nodded.  “It would have been an impressive piece of medical science.  And it would be a very different world where no one had to worry about illness.”

They both sat quietly in thought for a moment as they ate. “So,” she said, finally breaking the silence.  “I said before, we wanted to get to know the man behind the shield, and I’m certainly hoping I get to know the real Steve Rogers doing this, but do you think there’s a difference between Steve Rogers and Captain America?”

“Of course,” Steve answered quickly.  “I think that’s true for everyone, right?  I’m sure you sitting there interviewing me isn’t the same person you are when you’re home with your family or out with your friends.  Knowing the publication you work for, I’m sure it’s not even the same person you are in the office.  We put different aspects of ourselves forward all the time.  If you’re asking where the divide between Steve Rogers and Captain America is - I’m not sure.  I’ve put so much of myself into this for so long… I don’t know who I am without it.  I know I’d always want to stand up and fight for what I believe in.  I know I’d always want to stand up for the little guys.  But aside from that… I couldn’t say.”

She frowned a little.  “I guess I can see how that could happen,” she said.  Though the admission made her realize something, article or no article, she wanted to find out who Steve Rogers was for his sake as much as how drawn to him she already was.

// NEXT

[avionvadion]

Part Two of "I have no self control, so here ya go."

Lucifer x Fem!Human!OC

Warning: I don’t know how to write songs, so please don’t judge the Lucifer song too hard. T_T El isn’t affected by the song magic in Hell/Heaven so she ends up singing whatever songs she knows from her time on earth. In this chapter, it's "Here Comes A Thought".

I've decided this takes place just before the Pilot episode. So Angel has not been recruited yet, and the hotel is still the "Happy Hotel".

Lucifer was incredibly anxious as he shifted in his seat, one arm crossed over his chest while he bit the tips of his gloved fingers on his other, watching as Eleanora read the letter. What if it was horrible? What if he wrote too much? What if he was too honest and that ruined the letter? He can’t send that to Charlie. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. 

They should stop now while they’re ahead, before things go too far and he can’t take it all back. 

But what if doing that is what ruins everything? 

Lucifer’s mind felt like a trainwreck; he didn’t know which direction to take, which way to go. All the conductors were screaming at each other, but no one was willing to pull the lever to set him on the right track. 

No one except… 

Ellie? 

His sharp fangs had just started tearing through the fabric of the gloves and into his fingers when the Blue Human suddenly reached out, startling him by grabbing his hand and lowering it from his lips. 

She hadn’t even looked away from the writing. 

He blinked. 

Lucifer looked down at the hand she had grabbed. Eleanora’s grip was loose, her fingers just barely resting over his, but she didn’t pull away, simply holding it in place so he didn’t start biting again. 

It was… warm. 

Does she truly want to help me? 

Lucifer, ever since falling from Heaven and seeing the horrors that were inside Hell, had always believed giving humanity free will was one of his biggest mistakes. But he had scared this human, threatened her, kidnapped her, and coerced her into giving him advice, and yet… despite all that… she’s been trying to genuinely help him. 

And then she sang that song… 

Sure, they had a deal now, but they didn’t when they had first started writing this letter. Nothing in her actions or behavior has changed- save for the fact that she was acting more comfortable around him now, but it was the same for him so that didn’t really mean anything, did it? This human must truly be a good person like his daughter believed. 

“Has… Earth changed at all?” 

Eleanora paused, finally prying her eyes away from the letter to look down at him, confused. “Hah?” 

“Earth.” Lucifer repeated, his yellow-and-red snake eyes boring into her brown ones expectantly, hopefully. “Has it… changed? Or are you just one of the few who are most likely to get into Heaven?” 

The woman stared at him, only to turn away with a snort. “I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m “one of the few”. But… the people I used to hang out with in my school days always said I’d probably be the only one at our lunch table who wouldn’t end up in Hell. Pfft!” She laughed, flashing him a grin once she realized the irony of her situation. “Funny how that worked out, am I right? They were all wrong! Technically. Which… actually makes it funnier? But, uh, nah. Probably not.” 

Eleanora set the letter down on the desk and made to move her left hand from his- only to freeze, fingers twitching, as her eyes went wide. Lucifer realized then that she had no idea she had stopped him from nibbling his hand to bits, and that she’s been holding said hand for the better half of ten minutes. 

“Uh…” Slowly, stiffly, she pulled her hand away, her face burning a bright red, and Lucifer stared intently at her as she turned to lean her back against the desk, folding her arms over her chest as she smiled awkwardly, not looking at him. “I mean, I’m from America and it’s gotten really shitty over the past few years. There was the pandemic, we’re practically about to start World War III, and to top it all off- we’re regressing back into the nineteen twenties! Where women are property and cattle and nothing else!”

She laughed, the sound fake and stressed and very much bitter. 

The human waved a hand in the air. “Pisses me off! I mean, seriously, women can’t even breastfeed in public without getting yelled at because we might “excite” some random weirdos! Like, hello~? No! If a baby needs to be fed, it should be fucking fed. But no- let’s let it starve because some asshole might not be able to keep his hands or eyes to himself! Ugh!” 

She crossed her arms again, glaring into nothing, and Lucifer leaned sideways against his desk, elbow propped up and hand on his cheek. He was practically staring into her skull, his gaze so intense, and after a minute of seething in her thoughts Eleanora jolted, sensing his stare. 

Turning slowly to look at him, she blinked, unable to decipher what exactly he was thinking- if he was even thinking anything at all-  and quickly flashed him an apologetic smile, waving a hand at him- the same hand she had held his with. 

“S-Sorry! I… I got mad. And… rambled. Um. But, yeah, Charlie definitely thinks I would’ve gotten into Heaven- I disagreed, because, like, I never really believed in God until coming down here? I mean, my parents are religious, but even though they tried to force that on us, me and my siblings were all pretty… indifferent about the matter? That said, I wasn’t about to argue when Charlie asked me question after question and kept… getting more and more excited.” 

“What questions did she ask you?”

Eleanora froze. Realizing he was actually interested in what she had to say and wasn’t going to tell her to stop talking, she brightened. “O-Oh! Um, just- y’know, the usual, “Have you ever done drugs or smoked, do you drink- if so, how much and how often, have you ever had intercourse before marriage"? That kinda of thing. Oh! "Have you ever maimed or killed someone? Have you ever thought about maiming or killing someone"?”

“And?” 

She startled at that, looking at the devil king with wide eyes. “What?” 

Lucifer’s gaze was curious. “What did you tell her?” 

The human was stunned. “Well, I…” 

Clearing her throat, she looked away and began to count with her fingers as she answered, surprised he even wanted to know. Lucifer himself was a little surprised he wanted to know, especially since he probably won’t even remember half of it, but… he was curious. 

Who was this human? Why was it her that was summoned into Hell? Who was she to genuinely want to help him, even though he had abducted and threatened her for her assistance? 

Why was she so good, when the rest of humanity was so wretched and awful? 

“Um, well, I’ve never done drugs.” Eleanora began to list, thinking back on her answers. “Or smoke. My health was bad enough already, and I really didn’t want to make my asthma worse. Also, I don’t drink. Sure, my older sister would have me take an occasional sip of her wine just so I can say I tried it, but that’s only, like, once or twice a year since she doesn’t drink as much as she used to. Apparently I’m a dessert wine kinda gal?”

Lucifer sat up, squinting an eye. “Asthma? You don’t act like an asthmatic.”

“Charlie!” She beamed, snapping her fingers and pointing at him. “Part of the pact! My meds aren’t available down here, so she’s literally using some kind of magic to keep me from keeling over! I haven’t been able to breathe this well or talk so much since I was small! Heck, I can do zoomies and not collapse three seconds in! She’s such a sweetie.” 

She is. One hundred percent. His daughter was the best. 

“Anyways, she went on to explain the Happy Hotel to me and convinced me to make a pact with her, so not only have my lung issues been taken care of, I’ve got her protection and a job at the hotel. Even though… said job is to literally just exist. So I don’t really feel like I’m doing anything? But it makes her happy, so. Yeah.” 

Lucifer lowered his head, processing this. “My little girl’s… really all grown up now, isn’t she…?” 

Eleanora went silent. 

After a moment, she moved to tap her fingers against the desk, not daring to touch him after how she had unknowingly done so earlier. 

“I think…” She began slowly. “Even if she’s grown, she still has plenty of room in her life for her dad. It’s not like you were on bad terms; you just… never got to know each other. So you still have a shot. Especially since she misses you, too.”

The devil king snapped his head up, his eyes growing wide. “You… You really think so?” 

Eleanora grinned, giving him a thumbs up. “Heck yeah, I do!” 

“How are you so sure?” He asked, worrying his bottom lip. Lucifer could feel his eyes start to sting as he glanced at one of the portraits he has hanging up that were of his daughter, before turning back to look at the human standing beside him. “Were you a mother before coming here? Did you have kids?” 

She balked. Lucifer blinked. He watched as she jumped forward, stumbling as she spun to face him, and shook her head, waving her hands at him.  “No! No, no, no! Dude, I never even dated before coming here! Are you kidding!? E-Even if I did have… kids somehow, I’m only twenty-five! They’d be nowhere near Charlie’s age!” 

Lucifer curled a hand around his chin, furrowing his brows and tilting his head at her. “You’re twenty-five?”

“…Yeah?” 

“And you never dated?" That's surprising.

She shrugged. "All the guys that were in my school were morons and playboys, and literally every person I knew who was in a relationship was being abused or cheated on. I've dealt with my fair share of creeps, but, nah. I don't trust people."

Ah. That explains it. “So, then, Little Blue-“ 

“For the third time, Your Majesty, please don’t call me that.” 

He ignored her comment, instead tossing one leg over the other and lacing his hands together on his lap. Lucifer narrowed his eyes at her. “What makes you so sure this’ll work?”

At that, she hesitated. 

Lucifer watched as her facial features shifted, twisting into something darker and grim. His brows raised, finding this reaction most curious, and observed silently as she thought about how to answer. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of answer she would give, especially since she was twenty-five years old and not a parent herself. 

After a long, suffocating moment, her hands curling into fists, she moved to fiddle with her blue-painted nails, picking away at the paint. “So, I… don’t have kids. But… I do have older siblings, and… when I was small, I never really got to know them.” 

Oh? 

A sad smile spread across her lips, and Lucifer leaned forward, even more intrigued now. 

“They were… going through some things- depression, anxiety; a lot of their friends… killed themselves and, at the time, our parents were just recently divorced.” He winced a little there. “The divorce never really affected me because of how small I was, but it definitely messed with them. To make matters worse, our mother’s house was absolutely crowded with extended family who were… well, completely and utterly toxic, abusive assholes who only ever cared about themselves, never paid their bills, and decided to take all their anger out on me because I was tiny and couldn’t do anything about it.” 

She said that last part rather quickly, her smile growing sickeningly sweet in her rage, and he blinked with a dumbfounded look on his face as she pressed the tips of her fingers together. 

“Their daughter, my cousin, who would beat the absolute shit out of me and torment her siblings and even gutted a live snake, was the absolute angel in their eyes, and I was the devil because I had medical issues and was spoiled by my mom. I was four. Four. And this continued for years, and during this time all my siblings moved out, and I didn’t get to hear or see hide or hair of them for years. Also, note, none of them knew this bullshit was going on.” 

“Seriously?” Once again, he finds himself regretting giving humanity free will. The abuse aside, that snake thing was especially disturbing for... personal reason.

Eleanora shrugged. “They were always out of the house and I was convinced no one would believe me. Her parents didn’t believe me whenever I tried to defend myself, so why would anyone else believe me? People were already convinced I had an "active imagination".”

Lucifer clicked his tongue, leaning back in his seat. “Fuck that.” 

If the other six sins had met and abused his adorable Charlie, and she tried to tell him such, he would’ve believed her on the spot. But, then again, Lucifer himself was cast out of Heaven. He was young and excitable, with great plans for humanity and Earth and all that would inhabit it, but his ideas were deemed too dangerous, too much, for the likes of his angelic family, and they handled the matter by naming him the devil and tossing him down here with his beloved… who… also eventually left him, taking their daughter with her. Leaving him alone. 

Ah, damn it. 

Is he so lonely that he’s seriously empathizing with this human? 

“But, hey!” Eleanora’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked up, face shifting into one of bafflement when she grinned and playfully waved fingerguns at him. “A laugh a day keeps the trauma away! Therapy’s expensive, but telling yourself it just be like that sometimes? Doesn’t cost a cent.” 

Lucifer nodded to that, sticking out his bottom lip. “That is true…” 

“Anyways!” She cleared her throat. “After… everything that part of our family did and how it… messed with my brain, I… ended up more isolated than ever. But then they moved out! And… I was able to find out who I was outside of the trauma.” 

“And then?” 

She smiled at him, her eyes sad. “I tried to reconnect with my siblings.”

“…Did it work?” 

Eleanora beamed. “It did. I was fifteen back then. All you have to do is talk with your daughter, Lucifer. Trust me.” 

He just turned his head away, gazing at the floor and the remains of many failed letters. “I… I don’t know. What if… What if she doesn’t want to talk with me?” 

The room became filled with a heavy atmosphere, suffocating and thick with anxiety. 

Eleanora brought a hand up to her face, fingers over her lips, as she went deep into thought. Just as Lucifer’s fears began to grow darker, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach, she tentatively reached out and set a hand on his shoulder. 

He tensed, glancing down at the hand, before looking up at her, seeing her hesitating again before she let go and knelt down so he was looking down at her instead. She reached out to grasp his hands, and he startled, realizing he had been unknowingly digging his claws into his palms. 

“I’m really not good at this, but…” Eleanora took a deep breath, beginning to sing softly, her eyes gentle as she tried to comfort him in the way that would work best for him. “Take a moment to think of just… flexibility, love, and trust. Take a moment to think of just… flexibility, love and trust...” 

“...I love Charlie.” He murmured. “But that… doesn’t mean she loves me.” 

Lucifer adores his daughter more than anything; he’d give her the world if that’s what she wanted. Anything that was in his power was hers for the taking. She’s his sole reason for living. She’s so beautiful and bright and lovely, in this world so wretched and dark and filthy. But… he knows he hasn’t been a good father to her. 

He barely spent any time with her in her childhood, and after the divorce he never got to see her at all. It may be in part his fault, since he was always too scared to try, but how can he trust she won’t toss him aside like his wife did? 

“Lucifer.” Eleanora’s voice called out to him, and he flinched, looking down at her with pained eyes. She gave his hands a gentle squeeze, a sad smile on her lips. “It’s going to be okay.’

“But how do you know that?” 

“Just listen, will you?” He pouted at her words, but she stubbornly shook her head and gave him a look before softening her gaze. “Here comes a thought~ that might alarm you; what someone said… and how it harmed you.” 

Lucifer’s eyes drifted down to their joined hands, his lips pulling into a small frown. 

“Something you did~ that failed to be charming. Things that you said~ are suddenly swarming, and oh… you’re losing sight, you’re losing touch~! And all these little things seem to matter so much… that they confuse you- that she might lose you.” 

The blond king snapped his head up, eyes growing wide, but Eleanora offered him a smile. She moved to hold his hands up close to her chest. 

“Take a moment, remind yourself- to take a moment and find yourself.” The human suggested. “Take a moment and ask yourself, if this is how it’ll fall apart…” 

She held his hands out towards him, uncurling his fingers with her thumbs and unfolding them so his palms were exposed, the bits of his gloves that had been torn through there for him to see. Eleanora’s eyes were full of emotion, staring into his with an intensity she wasn’t able to handle before. 

“But it’s not, but it’s not, but it’s not, but it’s not, but it’s not.” She told him firmly, her voice sweet yet ever so strong. Lucifer felt his lips curl back, his eyes starting to sting again. He could feel his heart aching, always so terrified of the worst possible scenario yet desperately hoping for the best without putting forth any effort, his cowardice getting the better of him. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…” 

Slowly, Eleanora stood, legs shaking after sitting in such an uncomfortable position for so long. She tugged him onto his feet, the King of Hell finding himself going along with it, watching breathlessly as she smiled at him before releasing one of his hands to brush her fingers over the letter that was still resting on the desk, waiting to be signed. 

“You’ve got nothing, got nothing, got nothing to fear.” Head lowered, her confidence seemed to waver, before she lifted her free hand to rest against her chest, trying to stand tall before him so he wouldn’t doubt her words. Brown eyes gazed into crimson, and she gave his fingers one more good squeeze. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.” 

Lucifer was silent, staring at her for a long minute. 

It was so long she started to look uncomfortable, the woman growing worried that she might have sang the wrong thing, but then he turned to look at the letter. 

Taking a deep breath, Lucifer tried to compose himself, snapping his fingers to repair his gloves before moving to pick up the pen he had set down. In that moment of quiet, repeating in his mind the words she had sung ever so sweetly to him, he asked, “How… should I sign it?” 

“Hmm?” She blinked, having not expected that question. “Uh… however you want? She’s your daughter.” 

Sitting straight, he tapped the letter with the pen. “But what would Charlie like best? Should I be formal? How formal? King of Hell formal,” He spoke with a silly faux intimidating voice, waggling his shoulders and almost earning a laugh from the human woman, “or a Sincerely, Your Father kinda thing? Does she even like formalities? I know she’s grown now, but when she was little-“ 

“How about, Love Dad?” Eleanora suggested, a small smile on her lips, her eyes shimmering with a hint of baffled exasperation and growing fondness. She rested a hand on the back of his chair, leaning down just slightly so they were on eye level. “I think she’d like that.” 

Lucifer froze, pen dropping from his hand. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he looked up at her, his true personality showing through now that they’ve had not one, but two emotional music numbers. “L-Love… Dad? That’s not- That’s not too cheesy? Too cringe? She won’t- She won’t find it too much?” 

She stared at him, understanding slowly dawning on her that he was less a king and more just a depressed and lonely man who wanted so badly to be a good father, yet didn’t know how. She knew he was immortal, but appearance wise he looked more like he was in his early to mid thirties. This man was an absolutely mess. “Your Majesty… Lucifer, sir… uh…” 

Eleanora looked at the letter and then at him. His eyes were pleading. 

“I don’t know how to tell you this… but Charlie loves cheesy. Formalities freak her out.” 

“…Oh.” 

“Yeeeah.” 

Heart pounding, Lucifer shakily signed the letter, finding himself- against his better judgment- drawing some hearts around the Love, Dad that he wrote, before folding the letter and waving his hand, an envelope appearing in the air. He caught it between his fingers as it fluttered, and the king carefully tucked the letter inside before stamping it shut with a wax seal. 

Eleanora almost flinched when he held it out to her. “There. It’s done. You’re certain Charlie will like it?” 

“Y-Yeah! Of course!” She awkwardly reached out to take the letter from him. “Um, do you wanna send her a gift too? Just to be safe?” 

Lucifer blinked. “A… gift? Like what?” 

“I-I dunno, how about…” The Blue Human looked around the room, taking note of the hundreds of rubber ducks. There were so many, he even had some stuffed under a table. She didn’t even notice the paper ducks hanging over the doorway until now. Deciding not to think too hard about, she gestured to a pile. “Why not one of these? They’re cute. Charlie loves animals!” 

At that, the king jumped out of his seat, laughing awkwardly and wagging a finger at the woman. “Oho! Ha! Haha! No! No, no, no!” He crossed his arms in an X over his chest, shaking his head as his heeled boots clacked against the floor. “Absolutely not! Ex-nay on the duck-nay! None of these are… are…”

Lucifer scrunched up his face and bent over, waving his arms dramatically.

“Are good enough for my Charlie! They’re failures, all of them!” 

“Wait, seriously?” Eleanora walked over to pick one up from off the top of one of the bigger piles. The one she grabbed was wearing a red-and-white striped sweater. “But they’re adorable!” 

She squeezed it. 

It squeaked.

A big goofy grin spread across her face. 

The human cooed, holding it up with both hands, and Lucifer froze- on his tiptoes, half bent over in his overdramatic panic, his arms held out and hands extended in front of him. The devil king stared at her, watching as she squeezed it again. “She’d love this! Ohhh~ or maybe this one? Awww, it has a little hat! So precious!” 

She reached out to pick it up. 

It took Lucifer’s stunned brain a bit too long to recognize what the specific hat he had put on that particular rubber duck meant, but once he did he tossed a hand out, pointing a claw at it with a panicked shriek. 

“No!” 

A beam of light blasted out of his hand, and Eleanora screamed, stumbling and falling back as the duck was simultaneously sent flying out of her hands and incinerated. She looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes, but he just turned to her, breathing heavily. 

“Don’t… Don’t squeak that one.” He told her. “It’ll kill you.” 

Well, not anymore, anyways, given he just blasted that thing into oblivion. But it could’ve. Would’ve, had he not acted. Then Charlie would be sad, and he wouldn’t have anyone to give him advice anymore.  

Oddly enough, he’s actually growing rather fond of this human. She was a good one. Even better, she understood his relationship with Charlie, or lack thereof, and was actively trying to help. In an even odder way, she felt a bit like a kindred spirit. 

But that could just be his loneliness and desperation for connection talking. 

“That fucking beam you shot out would’ve killed me!” Eleanora cried from her spot on the floor, swearing as loud as could be. “You could have just grabbed it from me!” 

Lucifer paused. “Oh. Huh. Yeah, guess I could’ve.” 

Seeing him give a small, half-hearted shrug, the human forgot all fear of him being the devil king and picked up the sweater-wearing duck she had dropped, tossing it at him in a fit of anger. Lucifer blinked and looked down, watching as it hit his chest with a squeak. 

He turned to her, deeply unimpressed. “Really? That’s what you choose to do? Even though I just saved you? You’re in my house, and you’re throwing my rubber ducks… at me?”  

Eleanora opened her mouth like she was about to yell at him, but thought better of it and huffed, pushing herself up onto her feet and moving to set the letter safely on the table. She marched over to another pile of rubber ducks. Picking one up, she turned and faced him, and he just stared, eyes half-lidded, as she threw another one at him. 

It bounced off his shoulder. 

With a squeak, it began to glow with a brilliant yellow light. The light faded after three seconds. 

When she threw a third duck at him, Lucifer took it upon himself to dodge. He barked a laugh, pointing at her. “Ha! Missed!” 

Unfortunately, as soon as the duck landed on the floor, squeaking, a bolt of lightning shot out from its beak and scorched a wall. 

Eleanora jumped and screeched, practically throwing herself onto the desk in the same way someone might’ve done had they seen a spider. “What the frick, dude!? Lightning!? Don’t- Don’t you have one that squeaks rainbows or something!? Or glitter!? Something not deadly!?” 

Lucifer held up a finger, about to respond, only to think about it, tapping a claw to his chin. “Actually… I don’t think I have one with rainbows? Glitter, definitely. Dunno where it’s at, though. It’s in one of these piles.” He raised an arm, gesturing widely to the rubber ducks around them. 

The human gaped at him. 

Lifting a hand, she brushed her bangs back out of her face, baffled, letting out a huff, and Lucifer hummed, summoning his staff so he could lean forward against it, rocking on his heels as he rested his chin on his hands. He watched as her chest heaved as she scoffed, her shapely legs shifting as she slumped over, dropping her arms to rest in her lap as she shook her head. 

“You’re ridiculous.” Oh, that’s something. Rather than annoyance, there was a hint of amusement in her tone, like she found his ridiculousness entertaining or, dare say, charming.

Lucifer found his eyebrows raising. “Am I? I wouldn’t have guessed.” 

“Pfft!” She didn’t even try to hide her laugh. “Right!? It’s not obvious at all.” 

Even stranger than her tone of voice, Lucifer found himself smiling, lips spreading wide across his face and showcasing his sharp teeth for all the world to see. 

It felt nice- having someone to talk to, someone who wasn’t a wretched Sinner and who didn’t have ulterior motives. Someone he didn’t have to worry about, whether it be their intentions or… otherwise. It was a welcome distraction. 

One that… actually felt good, instead of being a pathetic endeavor to keep his mind off of other things. It felt so good, he could feel a song bubbling its way up his chest. 

“Well, I may be ridiculous, but what does that make you?” Lucifer found himself saying, standing up straight and tapping his cane against the floor before waltzing his way over to the desk where she was still sitting. Eleanora blinked. Alarm flashed across her face when he leaned against the side of his chair, arms folding over his chest, fixing her with a look. “You just threw rubber ducks at the King of Hell. Honesty, it was quite bold of you.”

“Th-That was… I, um…” Her expression was complete and utter panic. 

Lucifer’s smile broadened into a grin, absolutely delighted at this opportunity to tease her. “A human like you? Why, Little Blue- I can hardly believe you!” 

Her panic instantly switched to confusion, the woman catching the beat he was speaking with, before squeaking when he suddenly jumped up onto the desk and slid to sit beside her, one leg crossed over the other. 

As Lucifer started to sing, he bounced his shoulders, grinning wide as could be as he looked at her. “What a brave human you are~ facing Hell and coming this far! Picking a fight with the king, I mean really, just who do you think you are?” 

“I-“ Eleanora did not have any idea where this was going. As such, she didn’t know if he was actually upset or not. “I just- I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to- well, I did mean to, but it wasn’t-“ 

“A human like you, sweet Little Blue, I just can’t understand you. Come on, let’s walk!” He jumped off the desk, snatching her hand and dragging her with him, and she yelped when he yanked her forward and spun her around so they were facing each other. “Let’s talk, let’s have a dance!” 

“Lucifer-“

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, not at all sincere, laughing as he grabbed both her hands and began to move around. The woman’s feet stumbled as she tried to keep in time with him. “You wanted to dance with the devil, so here I am! Why not revel and enjoy the song?” 

She made a noise of surprise when the room around them began to change, magical silver music notes drifting through the air, circling them. The sky above was a brilliant glittering gold. 

“Lah~ dah, a lati dah!” Lucifer sang, his dull red eyes a brilliant crimson as they spun atop a crystal clear lake, each step causing the surface to ripple. “Lah dah lah dah, lah lati dah!” 

He couldn’t help but watch as wonder began to shine in her eyes, something warm that had once been long dead inside him seeming to rise and glimmer as the world around them sparkled gold and blue. Lifting an arm, Eleanora actually giggled as she spun on her toes, the devil king letting her circle around him before being pulled back into his grasp. 

Before, she had been terrified, and she sang only to comfort him, but now? 

She was truly enjoying the music. 

“A dance with the devil’s what you wanted, so take the leap, take a glance~ enjoy your unique, magical circumstance! Not many get a chance like this!” 

Whether he was referring to her situation as a human who was summoned into Hell itself while still being very much alive, or simply because she was dancing with the King of Hell, he wasn’t really sure. Lucifer was simply letting the words flow, and enjoying himself as he watched the various emotions paint across her face. 

“Lah dah lah dah, la lati dah~!” He sang, before flashing her a big grin. “Say, Little Blue, is that a smile?” 

The human gasped, looking at him with big brown eyes, concern flashing across her features just briefly until she saw his crinkled eyes, realizing there wasn’t a hint of animosity in his words. 

Spinning and releasing her, she fell back with a yelp, but didn’t fall as he caught her by the waist. “I knew you’d find this song to be worthwhile!” 

“Lucif-“ Eleanora inhaled sharply, the devil king leaning towards her just a bit too close, but in a way that was much different from how he did in the first song he sang to her. 

His grin was wider, but not forced, and his crimson irises were sparkling. “Little Blue, Ellie, you~! You made a deal to work at my side, to help me with my daughter so I won’t have to say goodbye, but you~!” 

Lucifer pulled her back up onto her feet, but did not remove his hand from her waist. 

“You don’t know how to pick your battles! Trying to pick a fight with the one who gave Eve the apple, ha! You really are reckless, y’know that?”

“Unfortunately?”

 Lucifer grinned. 

“You wanted to dance with the devil~! So here I am! Take the leap, take the chance, enjoy your unique magical circumstance!” Grasping her hand, tugging her close, they began to dance together again, Lucifer taking the lead as she stumbled along, her face red as could be as he beamed. “Lah dah lah dah, la lati dah~ tell me, Little Blue; you’re a gutsy gal! Just why are you helping me?” 

She blinked. “Why? Because…” 

Eleanora thought about it. For once, her feet were actually matching his steps.

“You love your daughter? And… because I want to? I don’t… think you’re a bad guy. Scary, yeah, since you… could definitely kill me, but- I dunno, you’re kinda nice?” 

Lucifer’s pearly white grin softened then, his eyes burning at the sincerity of her answer. Something in his heart throbbed, and he smiled gently as he sent her spinning to his right, releasing her hand, red flower petals appearing and fluttering around her as she slowed to a halt, turning to look at him once she was several feet away. Lucifer’s eyes widened a little at the sight, and he pursed his lips, wondering if this was truly alright. 

She shouldn’t even be here in Hell. 

Can he… really allow himself to rely on her? He should hate her, honestly, given she’s one of the beings who was given free will and with that free will has made a pact of all things with his daughter, and yet… he can’t. She’s so honest and nice, and… warm. 

And pretty. 

Nope, no, not the time, brain! 

Attraction does not equal affection, and he’s not even sure if he can try that right now- or if he’s even capable of it, considering how badly his heart was broken when his wife left him. Even his brain’s become a scrambled mess over the years of isolation and crippling loneliness. 

Friends are good, though! 

He can handle making a friend. Right? Right. 

I can have a human friend. 

Lucifer watched as a few butterflies flew towards Eleanora, who squeaked in slight terror and ducked down, freezing in place when one landed on her head. He bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh. Walking over, he scared the magic critters away with his staff and held out his hand, the brunette woman pausing to look up at him with gratitude before hesitantly taking hold of his hand. 

“Thank you.” He told her, voice soft, and she recoiled, eyes wide. 

“Huh? O-Oh, you don’t- haha, nah, it’s okay!” She smiled awkwardly at him. “I’m just… glad I can help. Like I said- I don’t really do anything in the hotel except exist, mostly because we don’t have any residents yet, but, hey! If I can help you bond with Charlie, who’s been super nice to me, then I wanna help!” 

Lucifer chuckled, and this time when he tugged her towards him Eleanora didn’t yelp. She just gazed at him with wide eyes, her face burning red, as their chests and faces nearly touched. 

One hand in hers, the other on her waist, the corners of his eyes crinkled warmly. “And I’m not supposed to thank you for that? Don’t be ridiculous, Ellie. Being fallen doesn't mean I've forgotten how to be grateful. I may be the devil, but I was once an archangel."

She was definitely befuddled by his change in attitude, as well as the sudden nickname, but decided not to comment on it. 

Apparently “Ellie” was more acceptable than “Little Blue”. 

Although, if you ask him, “Little Blue” was much cuter. It suited her. A human in Hell, weak and without magic, lacking any and all ways to defend herself should she be attacked without relying on the pact, dressed in all blue, and… well, short? It was adorable. The best nickname. 

He absolutely enjoyed how tall his ex wife was, as it made for some fun antics where he could bring out his wings and fly about, but having someone a little closer to his eye level wasn’t bad either. 

Wait, what is his brain trying to imply? 

Stop it! Focus! 

He leaned in closer, and Ellie leaned back, intimidated and very much flustered. When he started singing again, his voice was lower, gentler, but still filled with gratitude and glee. “I’ve been wanting~ for so long, to see my daughter~ and hear her song. But in the end, I ran away… like a coward…” 

Lucifer lowered his head, looking away. 

“But,” Looking back up, his red eyes met Eleanora’s, and he flashed her a grateful, painfully hopeful grin, “with you at my side, helping me stay upright, to face the fight, I might just be able~ for once not be a fable~ in my daughter’s life!” 

The world around them shimmered, the music notes fluttering down towards the lake like feathers. The lighting grew softer, but Eleanora was so entranced by Lucifer’s voice and his scarlet eyes she barely noticed. 

Even as they began to dance again, and he spun her around and tugged her back, grasping both of her hands, her gaze did not leave his form. “Lah dah lah lati da~! To be a light and set things right, so what remains is not devoured~! I thank you, Ellie.”

He lifted her hands up to his forehead as he bowed his head, his lips curling back. 

“Thank you. For dancing with this… pathetic excuse of a man and devil.” 

“…You’re not pathetic.”

“No, no. I am.” He said, shaking his head and lifting his gaze to meet hers. Eleanora was frowning. “If not for you, that letter… would never have been finished. It wouldn’t have even seen an envelope. I’m… the worst. Truly. I call myself Charlie’s father, but I can never do anything on my own. I just… wait. Hoping she calls me. That she reaches out. I’m pathetic, and… I know it.” 

“You’re not pathetic.” The brunette stated firmly. Lucifer blinked. “You’re just scared. It’s okay to be scared.” 

“But I-“ 

“You want to fix things, right?” She asked, and he hesitantly nodded. “You finished the letter, didn’t you?” Another nod. “You’re taking the first step. What would be pathetic is if you gave up midway through. But you didn’t. You finished writing it.” 

“...If it weren’t for you, I-”

Lucifer was cut-off rather rudely by a phone’s call ringtone going off. The song was distinctly in Japanese, but it was definitely the iconic, I Want to Change the World from a classic anime that Eleanora enjoys. Her eyes as wide as dinner plates, the magic around them popping out of existence, she yanked her hands away from Lucifer and fumbled for her phone. 

He made a face. “Who is that?” 

“Charlie!” 

Immediately, the man was stricken with panic, jumping back and flailing his hands, cane clattering to the ground. “Charlie!? Char- Charlie is calling you!? Char-Char!? My daughter!? Wh-What do we do!? What do I do!?” 

“Uh, ubduh- ahhhhh, I dunno!” Eleanora was panicking herself, frantically waving a hand at him before taking several deep breaths. “Calm! Stay calm! Don’t say anything! I got this. Phew. Okay.” 

Clearing her throat, she slid a thumb across the screen to accept the call and put the phone on speaker, holding it out with a nervous grin. She rested a free hand on her waist. 

“Heeeey, Charlie! What’s up?”

“Where are you!?”

“Huh?” 

The princess sounded terrified. “Where are you!? Are you okay!? Vaggie went to go find you, but you weren’t in your room, so we’ve been searching for you, but you’re just gone and we don’t know what to do and- are you okay!? You weren’t kidnapped by some mean demons, were you!?” 

At that, Eleanora and Lucifer looked at each other, and the King of Hell awkwardly placed a gloved hand over his face, cringing, because yes- she was kidnapped, and it was by him. Eleanora had to suppress a laugh.

“Are you hurt anywhere!?” 

“I-I’m not-“ Eleanora stammered for a moment, brain trying to come up with some sort of explanation, Lucifer waving a hand in front of his face and shaking his head, teeth bared in his panic. Her eyes lit up. “A-Actually, I… have a surprise for you!” 

Lucifer gaped, jaw ajar in his disbelief.

“Which is… why I’m not at the hotel! Haha, sorry, I know I should have told you I was gonna be gone for a while, but, like- I really didn’t wanna give it away, y’know?” As if. Lucifer kidnapped her without a warning. Eleanora had absolutely no idea she was going to be gone from the hotel.

Charlie’s worry quickly vanished. “A surprise?” 

Her excited gasp could be heard over the speaker.

“I love surprises!” 

“Right!? Thought you might.” Eleanora flashed Lucifer a playful wink and fingergun, silently letting him know they had this. His eyes were wide, the man unable to believe this was happening. “Also, question. How do… you feel about ducks?” 

“Awww, I love ducks! They’re so cute! Wait, does the surprise include ducks?” She gasped again. “Is it a live one!? Are you getting me a live duck!?” 

“…It does involve ducks, but not a live one. I don’t think.” The human made a face, and Lucifer began to lower his hands from his face, the man actually listening to the conversation now and realizing Eleanora truly did know what his daughter would like. “Where would I even get one in Hell? Do they have ducks in Hell?”

“Good point…” Charlie let out a weak chuckle, embarrassed. “And we do! They’re just… not normal?”

“Also! How do you feel about rainbows and glitter?” 

“Yeeeeessssss~!” 

“Aww, yeah!” Eleanora snapped her fingers, striking a pose as she held a hand dramatically up in the air above her head. “Knew it! Alrighty! Well, to answer your questions; I’m okay, I am not hurt, and… let’s not focus on the kidnapping bit, okay, bestie?” 

“Wait, what? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry about it. Part of the surprise. Anyways~ I shall see you soon! Tell Vaggie I said hi! Hopefully you like the surprise!” 

“Aww, you really don’t have to, you know.”

“It’s all good.” She beamed, and turning her head she sent Lucifer a warm smile. “I want to.” 

The king was stunned. 

“El~! Awwww! Okay, well, since you absolutely insist on surprising me, I guess I have no choice but to wait! Hehehe. Ooh, Vaggie, Vaggie, guess what?” 

There was the sound of footsteps and then a calm yet very amused voice going, “What is it?” 

“El said she has a surprise for me! That’s why she’s gone! She’s getting it ready!”

“A surprise? Wait, really?” Vaggie sounded very confused. “But… she doesn’t know anyone in Hell! Where did she go? How did she leave without getting hurt?” 

“Maybe she influenced the Sinners with her goodness!? They won’t wanna hurt someone who’s super duper nice to them, right?” 

“Oh, gosh…” Eleanora was starting to look incredibly embarrassed now, the woman rubbing her exposed neck. “I really ain’t that nice. But, I’m glad you think so! You’ll… learn what’s going on once I get back, okay? With… the surprise.” 

Vaggie was skeptical, but Charlie was delighted. “Okay! Hehe. See you soon! Oooh, I can’t wait!” 

“Just be careful. It really isn’t safe down here.”

“Trust me,” Eleanora said, expression contorting with a grimace, “I know.” 

With that, she hung up. An exhausted breath escaped her lips, and she turned to look at Lucifer. Tucking her phone in her pocket, she brushed her bangs out of her face with a weary smile. 

“See? What’d I say? She loves cute and cheesy stuff!” 

Lucifer just took in a deep breath, brought his hands up to squish his cheeks, and let out a screech before running circles around the room. Eleanora squawked, turning to watch the devil king lose his mind. “Why, why, why, whyyyyy!? Why did you tell her you had a surprise for her!?” 

“...So you couldn’t duck out?” 

He skidded to a halt, the floor squeaking against his heels, and he looked to see her grinning goofily at him, pointing at one of the many piles of rubber ducks that were in his room. “Uh-huh. I see what you did there. You think you’re hilarious, don’t’cha?” 

“I do, yes.” She snickered. “And, hey! Got you to stop freaking out.” 

Lucifer balked, realizing she was right. 

Not giving him time to start panicking again, the human walked over and patted his shoulder. “So, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess you made all these rubber duckies, right?” Seeing him nod slowly, she continued. “Okay. Well… can you make one that squeaks rainbows and glitter? Or will that… take a day or two?” 

“A day or- pfft, tch, pch’a!” Lucifer made a bunch of scoffing noises and waved her off, puffing out his chest as he rested a hand on his hip. With his free hand, he lifted his chin and rubbed his fingers together, acting haughty. “I could make, like, a hundred of those before the day’s over.” 

Eleanora placed her hands on both of his shoulders then, making a bit of a face as she kept her smile on. “We only need one.” 

“...I’ll make two.” 

Eleanora had to stifle a laugh at his determined pout. 

Previous Chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/avionvadion/741473939450216448/i-have-no-self-control-so-here-ya-go?source=share

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Angst (8) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven

a night to remember (ao3) - grievingwarwidow

Summary: roxie, who prefers the label exotic performer over stripper, is a star amongst people who are out when the sun goes down. who better for a close-minded phil who has despised what he labels as lowlifes to suddenly obsess over than Roxie himself?

aka the one where phil gets pathetically hung up on dan, better known as roxie and is desperate to get to know him better.

Aftermath (ao3) - firephan311

Summary: What happened during that week in March when Dan abruptly stopped taking his antidepressants.

Angelfish (ao3) - PyroStormIsBae

Summary: musings on phil’s anxiety, self image issues, and new hair + how dan loves him through it all.

(TW) Catch You on the Flipside (ao3) - Amorist (dead_on_the_inside)

Summary: Dan is holding himself together by the seams after running away from a religious cult. He has to ask himself why he keeps going, but deep down, he knows the answer already. It's the same answer it was long before his parents packed up and moved him to a thinly-veiled conversion camp in America—Phil.

Or, my excuse to write self-indulgent angst, because sometimes we need that.

Chips (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: Dan struggling with the concept that all healthy couples should fight.

Coffee by Chappell Roan (ao3) - danswideslit

Summary: someone on tumblr mentioned needing a dnp fic with the narrative from coffee and I felt inspired because I love that song a whole lot

Comfort in Chaos (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Phil wakes to Dan having a nightmare that he struggles to rouse him from. It later transpires that there is a reason behind his unsettled and panicked behaviour.

crushing grief (there is no remedy) (ao3) - shandril

Summary: When Phil comes to get the last of his things, Dan has one more chance to ask him to stay.

Deceit and Devotion (ao3) - Thatonefunhun

Summary: Phil Lester has it all. A successful career doing what he loves, a “bestie” who's always got his back, and a can-do attitude! He’s living the life! But what goes on beyond the camera? And is everything as it seems…

Falling for You (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Dan is at the front door waiting for Phil, eager to get outside so he can put his secret plan in motion when he hears a chilling thud of his partner colliding with the bathroom tiles.

First Love/Late Spring (ao3) - leewritesstuff

Summary: Dan and Phil are a ranch metaphor.

Dan and Phil are the moon and the ocean.

Dan and Phil are first loves.

Phil left in late spring.

frozen in time and space (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: It’s 3:30 in the morning and Dan hasn’t been able to stop looking.

I Hardly Feel Anything At All (ao3) - BREAD2000yeet

Summary: Dan in a depressive episode spends his night at Phil's apartment to "do laundry" while there he finds what home truly means, some existential stuff, Phil is kinda unaware of depression (so is Dan in this fic, de-nial is a river in egypt) but he still cares

I know you, hands under my sweatshirt (ao3) - midorijpg

Summary: “How are you?”

It's with an undertone of fear that he dares ask that, as always, even if he knows that he’s lucky if Dan even decides to answer. And as he imagines, Dan just tilts his head, looking at him as if lost in thought, swinging the bottle with his hand before just resting it on the floor.

“Make room,” he just says.

“What?”

“I said, make room.”

or, something something about having bad days and growing up and realizing you don't (completely) fit in couches anymore.

I try to picture me without you but I can't (ao3) - solarpower21

Summary: After Dan's tragic death, Phil starts having a bunch of strange dreams where he is still alive. But are they really just dreams?

Or: Phil's soul consciousness can't cope with Dan's death, so he starts hopping between different universes, trying to look for him.

I’ll be the light that you can’t make (ao3) - MANIAvinyl

Summary: There was suddenly a tightness in Phil’s chest, put there by guilt and fear, and he couldn’t find the words to respond. The gravity of Dan’s depression was creeping up on him, like a realization he didn’t want to admit.

Or; Dan is depressed and Phil cant help but feel that the sickness in his best friend is a mystery to them both. Hurt/comfort and angst

It's either bathmat green or agony (ao3) - sunshine_and_storm_clouds

Summary: It was day 34 of Dan being gone on tour, and Phil had only left the house to see his parents or the occasional friend. The breeze from the fan brushed his chilled skin, and he shivered.

----

Phil really, REALLY misses Dan when he's away.

Peach and Lime (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Phil doesn't do relationships. And then he meets Dan. He still doesn't do relationships, but he has a fun angst-filled night.

(TW) Perfect (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Phil is going to make TATINOF perfect-whatever it takes to get there.

Proxy Requests (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: A story about poop and fear (unrelated)

Stir Fry (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: Dan never cooks unless he's feeling guilty. Phil waits.

The Anniversary (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: It is fifteen years to the day since Dan's suicide attempt, and Phil endeavours to make the day as normal as possible.

The Beeping Penthouse (ao3) - gaydreaming

Summary: Set during the events of How Phil Nearly Died. Dan does his best to take care of Phil after their traumatic day, despite being terrified himself. As is to be expected, things dissolve into softness and silliness rather quickly, until they're both able to feel okay again.

the inherent romance of washing the sheets (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Laundry is a bit meditative when you know how to do it, Dan reflects as he sprays stain solution on the sheets.

to love somebody the way i love you (ao3) - howell_slide

Summary: Dan and Phil return home from the hospital, and Dan’s Going Through It emotionally.

trade all my tomorrows (ao3) - SylvesterLester

Summary: It's 2014, and Dan Howell is screwing up in life. Fresh off of potentially ruining his just-started acting career with a heavily-memed public freakout, he's ready to hide away for the rest of his life. Until a stranger reaches out, who might not be such a stranger after all.

when i walk in the kitchen, my heart hits the floor (ao3) - aura_sky

Summary: a phivorce fic

based on the Renee Rapp song (In the Kitchen)

or

Dan walks into the kitchen and he misses Phil.

wikihow to stop a divorce (ao3) - ivorycastle

Summary: ❝(...) but then suddenly one day you make a life change, and the flames feel no different..❞

You're Perfect To Me (ao3) - ticklishraspberries

Summary: Dan is feeling insecure about his body, and Phil can’t have that.

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Don’t Blame My English Blood For This American Heartache

Prologue

AO3 info prologue one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

All my work is 18+.

I was born in America, but I feel like I was raised on Mars. No matter how hard I try, I still feel like an alien.- Forever the Sickest Kids, Ritalin (Born in America)

May 1974

Santa Cruz Mountains, Northern California

The first time Seraphine Malfoy used magic at the age of eight—or noticed it, at the very least—, it was entirely accidental. Most magic used by children is accidental, but this particular incident was especially unexpected because no one expected Seraphine to be able to use magic at all.

Or at least, Seraphine—Sera—assumed as much. Mainly because her parents never performed any magic, or if they did, it was never in front of her.

The family cottage was small, but it was high up in the Santa Cruz mountains of Northern California, and as such, despite the diminutive size of Sera’s bedroom, the chair beneath the slender window was perfect for reading with the sound of leaves rustling outside. This was exactly what Sera was doing when she reached for her glass of juice on the arm of the chair, exactly where her mother had always told her never to put it. Unfortunately, she was so engrossed in whether or not Arwen could ride fast enough to escape the RingWraiths that her hand bumped the glass instead of grasping it, and she looked up, horrified, to see it tipping over slowly, and then very suddenly, and all Sera could think about was how desperately she wished it wouldn’t fall, that it would just go back to resting on the arm of the chair, and then—

And then it did. In fact, the stream of juice that had started towards the floor went straight back into the glass, as if someone had rewound one of those fancy new video cassette tapes and Sera had never bumped the glass to begin with.

She stared at the glass, at the juice settling back into complacency. Her heart was racing from the adrenaline caused by the fear of her mother’s wrath, and it was several long moments before Sera realized her mother, Marianne, had opened the door at some point.

“Mama,” Sera greeted shakily. “Did— did you see—“

“See what, darling?” her mother asked, her eyes tight and voice a little bit off. 

“I almost knocked a glass over,” Sera pointed out, “but then I wanted it to stop falling, and it did, and—“

“Sometimes things don’t weigh enough to fall all the way down, honey,” her mother explained patiently.

“No, no,” Sera rushed in, “but it was going to fall all the way down! The juice was coming out of the glass already, it was almost on the floor, and then it went back up into the glass, just like I wanted it to!”

Marianne tensed further, taking several deep breaths.

Her mother knelt down, took Sera’s small hands in hers and held them tightly. “You have a very active imagination, darling,” Marianne said, her smile not reaching her eyes, which looked almost afraid, Sera thought. 

But that didn’t make sense, did it? No, of course not. Who would be afraid of stopping juice from falling with the power of one’s mind? Not her mother, surely. Her mother was fearless, Sera was fairly certain. In fact, several years prior, three different men went on killing sprees in the county they lived in, and Marianne’s response was to shrug casually and shove a small handgun into her purse before she went into town to get groceries, the same way she’d done every week for as long as Sera could remember.

“I wasn’t imagining it, Mom,” Sera told her with a frown.

“Of course you were,” her mother assured her. “That’s alright. But let’s not tell anyone, hmm? It’s a secret.”

She knew better than to argue with her mother, so she simply asked, “What about Daddy?”

Marianne smiled tightly. “I’ll tell Daddy.”

Sera’s frown deepened, as did her confusion. “Okay,” she reluctantly acquiesced.

“Good,” her mother said with a relieved-sounding sigh, then gave Sera’s hands another squeeze before she stood back up and turned back around to leave the room. “Run along now. I have to prepare Shabbat dinner before the sun sets.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Sera went outside, and the incident was largely forgotten. 

That was, at least, until several years later when, shortly before her eleventh birthday, she was riding her bike through a trail amongst the redwood trees one afternoon.

There was a sharp turn, one she’d made dozens of times before without issue, but it had rained the night before, and so the mud on the ground made the wheels of her bike slide, and she went straight towards a tree that the storm must’ve knocked down.

The tree was huge— perhaps a foot and a half in diameter, and there were rocks on either side of it. If she couldn’t stop or jump it—and she certainly couldn’t manage either—she may hit her head on one of the rocks and die, just like Leslie Burke in the book she’d read earlier that month, and she wished desperately that she could simply sail over the tree instead.

And then she did. She sailed right over it, far higher than she ever could’ve managed to jump on her bike— four feet in the air, or perhaps even five, and she looked down at the ground in awe as she slowly moved over the tree, and then back down to the ground until the wheels of her bike met the dirt gently, far more so than they could’ve done had it been a normal fall. 

Sera hastily leaned her bike to one side, planting her foot on the ground firmly so as not to fall.

What on earth had just happened? Adrenaline was pumping through her veins, and she could hear blood rushing in her ears, whooshing like ocean waves rising up from the surface.

She raked a hand through her blonde curls, pushing them back from her face as she tried not to hyperventilate.

“You’re okay,” a voice said.

Sera whipped her head around, only to see a girl about her age standing between two trees. The girl was small, much like Sera herself was, with dark skin and long black hair. Her clothes were well-worn and covered in dirt, the same as Sera’s.

“Who are you?”

“Taana.” The girl stepped forward, onto the path. “I’m like you.”

Sera blinked at her. “Like me as in… almost eleven?”

Taana smiled. “Well, yes, but I’m also a witch.”

Sera raised an eyebrow. “A witch? Like in Wizard of Oz?”

“I don’t know what that is,” the other girl admitted with a frown. “Did you not know you were a witch?”

“I’m not a witch,” Sera insisted indignantly, “and neither are you. Witches aren’t real.”

Taana laughed. “‘Course we are.” In lieu of an explanation, she lifted her hand, palm-up, and from her hand emerged a seaside daisy. Before Sera’s very eyes, it grew from bud to blooming flower. The last of the daisies would’ve died out earlier in the month. How on earth had this girl managed to grow one out of her hand?

“You really didn’t know?” Taana asked, picking up the flower with her other hand and holding it out for Sera to take.

Putting down the bike’s kickstand and dismounting it, Sera took a few hesitant steps towards the girl, accepting the proffered flower. “Alright,” she acquiesced, “you’re a witch, clearly. But that doesn’t mean I am, too.”

“This can’t be the first time you’ve made something happen,” Taana pointed out. “There must be something.”

Sera looked up from the impossible flower and into the girl’s dark brown eyes. “I… I’m not sure, I…”

“You must come and meet my parents,” Taana decided.

Sera didn’t have many friends. Other children found her parents’ British accents strange and off-putting. Tentatively hopeful for some companionship, she nodded, and off they went.

“Mama,” Sera said, bounding into the kitchen when she arrived home that evening.

“Yes, darling?”

“I made my bike fly,” Sera told her. “Right over a fallen tree, I imagined it happening, and then it did, just like when—“

Her mother rounded on her, a tight smile on her face. “Of course you didn’t, love. You imagined it. You must’ve jumped very high on your bike.”

Sera frowned. “No, I—“

“You imagined it, darling,” her mother insisted firmly. “Let’s not mention it again, yes?”

Sera looked at her feet, deciding it was best not to mention Ta, her family, or the fact that she was apparently a witch and had a friend who was, too. “Yes, Mama.”

October 1976

“You’re a remarkably fast learner,” Taana’s mother told Sera with a smile. “It doesn’t surprise me that your parents didn’t want to talk about it with you, though.”

“Do you think they don’t have any magic?” Taana asked her mother from across the kitchen table they were sitting at.

The woman hummed. “I’m not sure. Either way, we can teach you, Sera.”

“Really?” Sera asked, excited. She was a witch, apparently, and she had someone willing to teach her.

“Of course,” Taana’s mother assured her. “Can’t have you running around without any idea how to control your abilities, can we?”

Sera smiled brightly in excitement, eager to learn all there was about being a witch.

November 1976

A few weeks later, on Sera’s eleventh birthday, an owl perched outside the window where she and her family were eating breakfast in the kitchen.

Sera thought nothing of the hooting owl, but her father, Septimus, turned towards it with wide, horrified eyes, and quickly rushed outside for a few minutes before returning.

There was another owl the following day, and her father went outside to “deal with it,” as he said.

A couple days after her eleventh birthday, Sera awoke to see a woman in strange clothes walking out their front door. Her parents brushed her off when she asked about the woman.

This did not strike Sera as odd in the slightest until the summer before her nineteen birthday.

That was when everything changed.

I’m reposting this bc my bestie said that the tags weren’t working properly, so… repost it is, I guess.

Biiiiiig thanks to @lilmaymayy for betaing this one, it makes much more sense now lmao

Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey

To be added, please ask 💗

[hummingbird-of-light]

June of Doom 2024 Day 2 (@juneofdoom)

2. “It didn’t have to be this way.”            

| Scream | Double Cross | Made to Watch |

~

"You know, it didn't have to be this way." The familiar and yet somehow strange voice reached his ear and Hikaru Sulu turned his head back and forth, but wasn't able to see the woman standing somewhere behind him. He tried to pull at the restraints that bound his upper body to a chair, but it simply didn't help. They were too tight.

"Shizuka, please, you're not yourself. You're infected."

The helmsman's heart skipped a beat as he felt a sharp, long blade slowly lay across his right shoulder. A katana.

"We were promised to each other, Hikaru. You and me. Forever and ever."

Slowly, Sulu shook his head, remembering how he had gotten into this situation.

A call for help from Starbase 45, colonists who suddenly seemed to be going crazy and turning on each other. Captain Kirk had immediately set off with the Enterprise to help the people.

The scientists' investigations had revealed that the brains of those affected had been infected by bacteria that had apparently entered their bodies via contaminated drinking water.

Commander Spock, Dr. McCoy and the other medics and scientists had immediately begun developing an antidote, but a few selected crew members had been assigned to mediate the disputes between the colonists and warn the residents about the water. Including those staying at one of the largest hotels.

And that's when it had happened. Sulu had met her again. Shizuka. She had recognized him immediately and before he could even react, she had pulled him into her room and dazed him with a phaser shot.

"Ever since we were children, our parents have said that we would get married one day. I loved you, Hikaru. I always dreamed that we would live together. But you ... you just ran away."

Slowly, the sharp blade lowered and Sulu felt it cut into his flesh. He clenched his teeth convulsively, suppressing a cry of pain. Hot blood began to flow from the wound.

"You left me, Hikaru. You destroyed everything."

Anger filled Sulu at those words.

"I've told everyone. My parents, your parents, you – I have no feelings for women!"

The helmsman had realized early on that he was not interested in the female sex. But neither his parents nor the rest of his family had understood. It was not without reason that he had fled his home country of Japan to America as soon as he was old enough. There – in a foreign country – he had finally been able to be who he wanted to be.

"I could never feel about you the way you feel about me, Shizuka. And even if I had been able to, I would never have agreed to an arranged marriage."

It was an old tradition that should be abolished! They were living in the 23rd century! No one should force young people to marry someone they had no feelings for. But his family would never have understood that either.

"I have found a man in America whom I love like no other. We are happy and have a family. And ... I wish you had found someone for yourself who loved you in the same way, but–"

Sulu cried out in pain as the blade of the katana suddenly rose, only to be lowered again a moment later with a slash.

"You were mine, Hikaru! You were everything to me!"

Shizuka's loud, angry voice drowned out the roaring in Sulu's ears. Blood spurted uncontrollably from the stump that was left of his arm.

"I would have loved you more than any man in this universe can!"

With a second blow, Shizuka also severed the left arm from the torso. She had set herself the goal of making Sulu pay for his actions ... and he clearly felt it.

The shock set in very quickly and Sulu was almost glad that he barely noticed the hellish pain.

Shizuka finally stepped in front of him, daring to look Sulu in the eye. But the helmsman hardly recognized her. Her face was strangely distorted, her eyes bloodshot. Her skin was pale, ashen. There was nothing left of the once pretty girl.

"Shizuka! Stop that! You have to regain control!" Sulu looked at her desperately, tears streaming down his face. He couldn't stop them from flowing.

"You'll regret it! You'll regret not choosing me!"

The blade rose once more and Sulu knew that the next blow would sever his head.

He closed his eyes helplessly and thought of his family waiting for him in Yorktown. Ben. Demora. He tried to imagine their faces, because they would be the last thing he wanted to see. His gorgeous husband. His lovely daughter. They were his everything. And all he wanted was to hold them once more.

"You'll regret that–"

Shizuka didn't finish the sentence. She couldn't, because a phaser shot hit her in the back and caused her body to slump.

"Hikaru!"

That voice. Sulu cautiously opened his eyes and a faint smile formed on his lips at the familiar sight of a crewman dressed in yellow. He was standing in the doorway, breathing heavily.

"Pa...vel."

He had come to save him. Of course he had. What else had Sulu expected? Pavel was always there for him. He would never let him down.

The last thing Sulu saw before he fainted was his friend's face. And he was incredibly grateful for that.

[glitteronadumpsterfire]

44 mickvince something mafia related plbs ill love you forever sorry for being so demanding 🥺

[not sure if this is what you intended but here you go]

---Two weeks before the wedding---

While the whole city of Naples was asleep, Michele was sitting at the pier under the crescent moon and cloudless sky. The night was unusually quiet, and all that could be heard was the sound of the waves lazily going back and forth against the shore.

“How does it feel, Vincé?” Asked Michele in monotone, after Vincenzo sat down next to him.

“What do you mean?”

“Your wedding with Arianna. Have you already forgotten?”

“No, I haven't.” Vincenzo looked up to the sky, spotting a few stars. “But I'm not really enthusiastic about it, you know? I barely know her.” He added, shrugging, turning towards Michele, staring at his icy blues.

The other man turned around and sighed.

“I think she feels the same, too.” Continued Vincenzo, gazing at the sea. “We're getting married just to please our parents, after all.”

Michele stayed in silence.

“What's wrong, Miché?”

“Nothing, it's just...” Michele exhaled. “I don't know what I'm going to do after you get married and move there. Maybe I should just... Get it over with already.” He suddenly got up, but Vincenzo stopped him, seizing his arm.

“Don't even try to think about it!” The blond raised his voice.

Michele stared at him, saying nothing, the corners of his eyes filling with tears.

Vincenzo moved his hand to Michele's. “Ti amo, Miché. I always will.”

The raven-haired man brought his fingers to Vincenzo's cheek, before the blond got closer and pressed his lips against Michele's.

---One week before the wedding---

“Ciao.” Said a boyish familiar voice.

“Ciao...” Michele sighed, without diverting his gaze from the sea. “How's the nose, Vincé?”

“Not as bad as the other day, I think it's healing.” Informed Vincenzo, sitting down next to Michele.

“It's all my fault.” Murmured Michele. “I'm sorry.” He turned towards the blond, whose hazel eyes were glistening under the moonlight.

Vincenzo frowned. “No way! Why would this be your fault?”

“You got beaten up by your father because he saw you hanging out with me! The real question is, how is this not my fault?” Michele's blue eyes began to become watery. “I should just... We should just stop seeing each other, before one of us ends up dead!”

Vincenzo exhaled. “Miché, don't say that...” He rested his hand on Michele's shoulder. Michele took Vincenzo's hand on his and squeezed it.

A gunshot was heard in the distance.

“We should go home. Now.” The dark haired man said, looking at the blond boy in the eyes.

---Two nights before the wedding---

Michele was feeling restless: it was three in the morning and Vincenzo still had to show up. He was shivering, despite it being a summer's night in Naples. He felt like something bad had happened to his lover.

He shot a glance back at the coast: he never felt so happy to be proven wrong, as he realized that Vincenzo was running towards him.

Michele got up and pulled the blond boy in his arms, hugging him and kissing his face all over. Vincenzo squeezed him just as tight. “Sorry for being late. I was worried someone was following me and I took the longer way.”

“Grazie a Dio you're here, Vincé.” The other whispered.

“Listen,” Vincenzo detached himself from Michele, “I am so tired of living like this.”

Michele blinked, a worried expression painted on his face.

“I don't want to get married to Arianna, I can't take being a criminal anymore...” Continued the blond, “and more importantly, I can't stand being away from you for just one more minute.”

“Vincé, where are you going with this?”

“I want to run away with you, Miché!” Vince took Michele's hands in his.

“But where?! You know they're gonna find us no matter where we go!”

“Not if we take the cargo ship to America.”

Michele widened his eyes.

Vincenzo grinned.

“You're crazy, you hear me?” Michele threw his arms up in the air. “Pazzo!”

“So, are you in?”

Michele hesitated. “If I had to choose between staying here without you and the possibility of dying at sea with you…” He said in the end, smiling. “I still would choose you.”

---One night before the wedding---

The first sun rays of the morning had still to come out as Vincenzo and Michele embarked on the first cargo ship to the United States of the day, hoping for a new chance at life.

Put That Guy in a SituationTM Ask Game/Prompt!

[bedlamsbard]

“The soldier,” Thanos said. He flinched a little as one of Natasha’s widow’s stings hit him in the side of the head, but brushed it off as if it was nothing more than a mosquito bite. “The man out of…time.”

Thanos let the last word linger there between them. The Stones set across his knuckles glittered in the fading sunlight as he turned his left hand over, thoughtful.

He was a kid playing with a new toy, the kind of boy who burned the wings off flies with a magnifying glass and a sunbeam. Steve knew the exact instant Thanos realized he could use more than one of the Stones at the same time.

March 1945: With the deaths of Johann Schmidt and Steve Rogers only a month old, the SSR has spent the intervening weeks hunting down the last of Hydra’s holdouts. When Peggy Carter and the Howling Commandos are unexpectedly called back to London, however, the return of Steve Rogers from beyond the grave raises more questions than it answers – and draws the attention of a dangerous new enemy.  (Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff)

Previous: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

14: Born to Run 176K, AU, WIP

Chapter preview:

Steve was shaking when Natasha put a hand on his arm, like the enormity of what was happening had suddenly caught up to him, the way she had seen it do a few times over the course of the past twenty-three days.  He stilled under her touch, his breathing slowly evening out, until he finally drew himself the rest of the way up and looked hard at the Sorcerer Supreme.  “The hell are you doing here now and not twenty-three days ago?” he demanded. “Before I got kidnapped, shot, and beat to shit?” The woman eyed him thoughtfully, that same calculating expression Natasha had seen a dozen times before on people meeting Steve Rogers for the first time and weighing him against whatever conclusions they had already come to about Captain America.  Usually Steve came off the better in that competition, but not always; there were plenty of people who preferred the idea of Captain America over the reality.  Phil Coulson had been one of them. “All right, hold up,” Morita said, sounding slightly strained.  He had his hand on what Natasha guessed was a hidden knife sheath; none of the Howling Commandos habitually carried sidearms inside the SSR. “We’ve got wizards now?  Like magic-magic wizards, not Schmidt’s bull?” The woman glanced at him.  “The sorcerers of Kamar-Taj have guarded the Time Stone for millennia,” she said.  “We prefer to keep to ourselves.  It’s better for everyone that way.” “There’s a war on, in case you haven’t noticed,” Peggy said coolly from Steve’s other side.  Her pistol barrel hadn’t wavered at all, still pointed squarely between the newcomer’s eyes. “Who says we haven’t been fighting it?” the other woman countered.  “There are more battlegrounds than even the Strategic Scientific Reserve knows.”  She looked back at Steve and Natasha and said gravely, “It’s time to go home.”

[strained-cranberries]

Benedict's Cumbersecret

Part 1: Cold coffee.

The day started like any other. After you'd finished smoothing out the wrinkles of your bed covers and propped your rectangular pillows on the headboard, you headed downstairs. Aunt Vivienne was waiting in the kitchen. She had long brown hair and grayish green eyes, the same ones you're mother had. You wouldn't remember though, she and you're father had died in a boating accident when you were 4. Aunt Vivi had raised you since then, showing you so many pictures and telling so many stories, it was almost like they were raising you, too.

"Why don't you fix yourself up? You remember what day it is, don't you?" Aunt Vivi said, looking you up and down in your white tee shirt, jeans, and hair tied messily up in a bun.

"WHAT?" You asked, suprised she would critique you before even saying "Good Morning".

"It's the 31st" She replied. Suddenly realization crossed your face. The 31st of each month was when you met with you're child hood friend, Benedict Cumberbatch.

Without saying another word, you ran back up stairs. You stepped into the marble covered bathroom and started out the large window, from you're high rise apartment, you were eye-level with the Big Ben. When it struck 12 you pulled closed the big maroon curtains and turned toward the golden framed mirror. You pulled your dirty brown hair out of the bun and put it up in pigtails. You thought the rest of your outfit was fine for meeting Ben. You had been friends since childhood, he was Vivi's ex-Husband's son. He had gotten into acting around 15 years ago and you hadn't seen him since he went to America to be Dr.Strange in the Marvel movies.

You couldn't say you liked what you saw in the mirror. You were born with a disease called Alexandria's Genesis, it gave you bright purple eyes and ghostly pale skin. The only good part of it was, you didn't have any body hair on your arms and legs.

You grabbed your bag from you're desk in you're room and yelled "Goodbye!" before running out of the apartment. You ran all the to the coffee shop a few blocks down where you and Ben always met. The white sign on the door said "Pret". You ordered you're usual from the barista, a chai latte. You sat down at a table near the entrance and waited for Benedict to walk in.

What felt like years passed by. You checked you're phone and it had been 3 hours. You're phone was beginning to die. You were about to leave when you saw the barista freeze in terror. She pointed a finger towards the door and yelled. "I-I-IT'S SLENDERMAN" you turned around and saw Ben. He was so pale you almost thought he had Alexandria's himself. His piercing blue eyes and messy brown hair made you're heart skip a beat.

"Took you long enough" you said, "My coffees cold"