#i feel like i need to go jump around in the snow to chill out bc im just so overly pleased abt this SBDJDML

[buzzinrusso]

second chances?

Where ex lovers run into eachother.

Word count : 3k

The snow falls softly, dusting the cobblestone streets and clinging to rooftops like powdered sugar. Christmas lights twinkle above the market stalls, casting warm glows on the festive scene below. The air smells of pine, roasted chestnuts, and cinnamon, and everything feels like it’s straight out of a holiday movie—a perfect postcard moment.

But for you,it’s not perfect. Not anymore.

You pull your scarf tighter around your neck, the chill creeping into your bones. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t come here today, but something in you—something stubborn and nostalgic—had drawn you back. The market was always your favorite part of Christmas, and for a long time, it was something you shared with Lena. The two of you used to come every year, hand in hand, sipping mulled cider and picking out ornaments that you never really needed but bought anyway.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to focus on the present, to stop the memories from swallowing you whole.

It’s been months since Lena left.

Months since she walked away from you and everything you thought you had.

And now, standing in the middle of the busy market, you realize just how badly you’ve been pretending to be okay. You should’ve stayed home, away from this place, away from the past. But you didn’t. The weight of the memories is heavy on your chest, and you feel like you might break under its pressure.

And then you see her.

You freeze. For a moment, you’re sure it’s a trick of the light. But no—there she is, standing a few feet away, bundled in a dark coat and scarf, looking exactly the same and somehow completely different. Her hair peeks out from beneath the knitted hat, and her eyes meet yours before she blinks, like she’s not sure she’s seeing you either.

Your heart jumps in your chest. You want to walk away. You want to turn around and pretend this isn’t happening. But you can’t move.

Her gaze softens, and she steps forward hesitantly, like she’s testing the waters. Her eyes are wide, filled with something you can’t quite place.

“y/n?” she says, her voice thick with disbelief.

The way she says your name, it breaks something inside of you. You thought you were done. You thought you’d buried it all, that the past was something you could leave behind. But here she is, standing right in front of you, and everything inside you shifts. It’s as if time hasn’t passed at all. The ache in your chest feels as fresh as the moment she left.

“Lena.” The word slips from your lips before you can stop it.

You see her flinch, just for a second, and you hate how it makes you feel. It’s not supposed to matter anymore. She’s the one who left, after all. But still, you can’t help the rush of emotions that hit you all at once. Anger, sadness, relief, longing.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but it cracks. You hate how fragile it sounds.

“Just… looking,” Lena replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” you ask, the words leaving your mouth sharper than you intended. You can’t seem to help it. You’re still angry, still so deeply hurt.

Lena looks down, rubbing her hands together, and the silence between you stretches. It’s thick and heavy, like you’re both too scared to say the wrong thing.

You almost turn away. Almost. But then, she looks up at you again, her eyes searching yours like she’s trying to find the right words.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” Lena says, her voice small.

“Me neither,” you mutter, shifting on your feet. You try to move away, but she steps closer, and something inside you tightens.

“I… I should go,” Lena says suddenly, stepping back like she’s afraid you’ll push her away.

And for a moment, you almost want to. But then something else rises up in you, something too tired to ignore. It’s been so long. You’ve spent so many nights missing her, hating her, hoping that she might come back. And here she is.

“Wait,” you say, before you can stop yourself.

She freezes, her hand hovering in midair. She’s looking at you again, searching for something in your eyes. The moment hangs between you, fragile and uncertain.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice faltering. “Just… wait.”

Lena hesitates, looking torn. You know you’ve hurt her—left her when she needed you most. But you can’t stop the words from spilling out, can’t stop the part of you that still wants her.

Finally, she nods, and you both walk to a nearby bench. It’s tucked away from the bustling market, quieter here, but it doesn’t feel peaceful. It feels like the calm before a storm. You sit beside her, close but not touching, like you’re both too afraid to cross the invisible line between you.

“So..."lena says softly, after a long silence. Her voice is shaky, unsure, and it kills you to hear it like that.

You swallow, trying to steady yourself. It’s not easy. You don’t know how to start, don’t know how to face the mess you’ve both made.

“I’m sorry,” Lena says, her voice breaking just slightly.

You blink, surprised. “That’s it?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intend.

She flinches, and your chest tightens at the sight. You didn’t mean to hurt her again. But you can’t help it. You’ve been carrying the weight of her leaving for so long that it feels like it might crush you if you don’t say something.

“No,” she says quickly. “No, it’s not. I just—” She runs a hand through her hair, like she’s trying to find the right words, but they’re tangled up in the same mess of emotions that you’re both holding onto. “I don’t know where to start.”

You nod, your lips pressing into a thin line. “Maybe start with why you left.”

Lena’s face falls. You see the flicker of pain in her eyes, and it cuts you deeper than you expect. She takes a deep breath, and for a moment, you think she might not say anything. But then, finally, her voice comes, quiet and broken.

“Because I was scared,” she admits, and it’s as though all the air leaves the space between you. “I was scared of losing you, of how much I loved you.”

You don’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t the only one who was scared. You were too. You still are.

“I thought I was going to ruin everything,” Lena continues, her voice thick with emotion. “And I couldn’t live with the idea of you waking up one day and realizing I wasn’t enough for you.” She pauses, her gaze dropping to the ground. “So I ran. I left before you could leave me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of all the things that were left unsaid. You can feel the anger rising again, but it’s not just anger anymore. It’s hurt. It’s betrayal. It’s all the years of being afraid to love her because you weren’t sure if you could trust her.

You shake your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “But you didn’t have to run, Lena,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “You could’ve stayed. You could’ve fought for us.”

“I know,” she replies, her voice tight. “And I hate myself for it. But I was so afraid. And now… now I can’t take it back.”

You stare at her, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. How do you go back after all of this? How do you forgive something like this, when the wound still feels so fresh?

“I know I hurt you,” Lena says softly. “And I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. But I need you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.” She looks up at you, and there’s something raw in her gaze. Something vulnerable that makes your heart ache.

You want to scream at her, to tell her that she doesn’t get to just show up and make everything better with a few words. But instead, you say nothing. You just sit there, letting her words sink in, letting the silence hang between you.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Lena whispers. “But I’ll do anything. Anything to make it right.”

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the weight of her words wash over you. You’ve spent so many months in pain, convincing yourself that you’d be better off without her. But now she’s here, and all the walls you’ve built are starting to crumble.

“Why did you leave?” Lena asks, her voice quieter now. “Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you fight for us?” She’s reaching for something—some answer that you don’t know how to give her. And it makes you feel so small.

You want to tell her everything. The fear. The uncertainty. The way you never thought you could be enough for her. But how do you say those things when your heart is still tangled up in the wreckage she left behind?

You may not have left physically,but you certainly left mentally.

And then, with a deep breath, you say, “I was scared too.”

Lena doesn’t say anything. she just looks at you, her eyes wide with something you can’t name. And for the first time in a long time, you feel the possibility of something else—a chance, however fragile, that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

The silence stretches, heavy with the weight of your words. The words you’ve never said before, the truth that’s been buried beneath layers of pride and fear. It feels both freeing and terrifying to admit it out loud.

Lena’s gaze softens, her lips trembling like she’s fighting against something—tears, maybe, or just the overwhelming flood of emotion that’s been building for months. She opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out at first.

“I didn’t know,” she says finally, her voice cracking. “I didn’t know you were scared too.” She looks down at her hands, rubbing them together as if trying to ground herself, trying to make sense of everything that’s happened.

You nod slowly, your eyes tracing the patterns in the snow beneath your boots. "I think I was more scared of being left behind, of never being enough. I couldn’t let myself be that vulnerable with you." The admission feels raw, the truth cutting deeper than you expected.

Lena’s gaze is gentle as she watches you, her own pain evident in the way she’s holding herself. "I thought you’d never love me the way I loved you," she whispers, and there’s an edge to her voice now, one that carries the ache of regret. "I thought I had to leave before you realized I was too broken for you."

The cold bite of the winter air seems to grow more pronounced as you sit there, in the space between you two, the distance once again palpable. But this time, it's not about rejection—it's about understanding, raw and real, in a way you’ve never experienced.

"Do you ever think about what we could have had?" Lena asks softly, her voice quiet but steady.

It’s a question that leaves you still, leaves you breathless. Do you ever think about it? Of course you do. You think about it every day—about the Christmases you spent together, about the laughter you shared, the soft moments when it felt like you were a part of each other. It was the kind of love that seemed invincible, until it wasn’t.

"I think about it every day," you answer honestly, the words slipping past your lips without hesitation. "But I also think about how much it hurt when you left. How you didn’t even try to fight for us. How it felt like you gave up."

You can’t stop yourself now. You’ve held it in for so long, and now it all comes pouring out—your fears, your pain, your loneliness. "You left me, Lena. You didn’t even look back. And that hurt more than anything."

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, it looks like she’s about to break. But she doesn’t. Instead, she looks at you with such sincerity in her eyes that it almost knocks the wind out of you.

"I didn’t leave because I didn’t care about you," she says softly, her voice low and trembling. "I left because I loved you so much that I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. I thought leaving was the only way to protect us both."

The way she says it—so fragile, so raw—hits you harder than anything she’s said so far. You thought you were done with her, that you could move on. But as much as you want to stay angry, as much as you want to keep the distance between you, a part of you still feels the pull. That old connection, the one you buried beneath all the hurt, begins to resurface.

You take a shaky breath, the words threatening to tumble out before you can stop them. "I never wanted you to leave, Lena. I just… I didn’t know how to stay in something that felt so uncertain. I didn’t know how to fight for us when I was so afraid of losing myself."

Your withdrawal wasn’t out of a lack of love, but from fear—fear of vulnerability, fear of losing yourself, and fear of an uncertain future with Lena.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The snow falls gently around you, blanketing the world in silence. But it’s not the cold that’s suffocating—it’s the weight of everything unsaid between you, the things you’ve both been holding back, the memories that you’re not sure whether to cherish or curse.

Lena reaches out then, her hand trembling as she brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear. It’s a simple gesture, one that used to feel so natural, so effortless. But now it feels like it carries a thousand unspoken words. The moment hangs there, charged with the quiet intensity of everything that has been left unresolved between you.

“I know I hurt you,” Lena says quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “And I don’t know if I can ever make it right. But I need you to know that I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. To prove to you that I’m not running this time.”

You feel the vulnerability in her words, the openness that she’s never shown before. And for the first time in months, something shifts inside you. Maybe it’s the way she looks at you, or maybe it’s the tenderness in her voice that pulls at something deep inside of you. But whatever it is, it cuts through the walls you’ve built.

You close your eyes, letting the feeling wash over you, a storm of emotion breaking over the dam you’ve tried so hard to keep in place. "I don’t know if I can trust you again," you whisper, your voice unsteady. "But I want to. I want to believe that we can fix this."

Lena’s eyes search yours, and she takes a deep breath, her gaze intense. "Then let me show you. Let me prove that I’m here to stay. I’ll do whatever it takes."

You nod slowly, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what comes next. But you can’t bring yourself to pull away. The old hurt is still there, lodged in the deepest parts of you, but the possibility of something new—something real—feels almost too tempting to resist.

For the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to feel something other than pain. You let yourself feel hope.

"Okay," you say softly, your voice barely a whisper. "But I’m not making promises. I need time."

Lena’s lips tremble, and you see the tears she’s been holding back, the weight of her regret and guilt, threatening to spill over. But she doesn’t cry. Instead, she smiles—a small, tentative thing, but it’s enough. It’s more than enough.

"I’ll wait," Lena says softly, and the sincerity in her voice makes your chest tighten. "I’ll wait as long as you need."

You don’t know what the future holds. You don’t know if this is the beginning of something new or if it’s just another false hope. But for the first time in a long time, you’re willing to take the risk. Maybe this time, things will be different. Maybe, just maybe, you can find your way back to each other.

And with that thought in mind, you take a deep breath, let it go, and step forward—into the unknown, into the second chance you’ve both been waiting for.

Christmas Day

The morning of Christmas is peaceful, quiet. The snow has stopped falling, and the world is wrapped in a blanket of white. You and Lena sit by the window, sipping your coffee, both of you lost in the moment.

It’s not perfect. It’s not how you imagined things would be. But it’s real. And right now, that’s enough.

Lena reaches for your hand, her fingers trembling slightly, but you don’t pull away. You let her hold you. You let her in.

And as the Christmas bells ring in the distance, you know that, for the first time in a long time, there’s hope for a future you once thought was lost.

-----

HELLOO!! Merry Christmas my loves <33 this is the first part of my Christmas trilogy 🤶 I will admit this is one of the longest fics I've written and it took me like 2 weeks and I kept having chat gpt spell check for mistakes...

[midnightwriter21]

Until Now~ (Tanjiro x Reader Angst)

characters: Tanjiro x reader, zenitsu, inosuke

warnings: angst, unrequited love, blood, injury, character death (reader)

an: Part 3 of the Open Wound series!! Read part 1 & 2 before reading this one! This is the last part!

Open Wound (part 1)

Distant (part 2)

It takes several hours to reach the base of the mountain. It takes several more to climb to the peak. By the time you make it there, it is pitch black outside. As you walk through the snow covered forest, you strain your ears trying to figure out the location of the demon. There are no footprints to track. The snow likely covered them up.

After walking for a while, you conclude that you cannot track this demon based on sound. Because there is no sound. It is eerily quiet. The other slayers that were supposed to be on this mission haven't showed up. There are no animals. The wind is not blowing, rustling the leaves. Everything is still, except for the falling snow.

Chills crawling up your body, you whisper to yourself, "Something is wrong here. Where is everyone?" Throwing a glance at the crow sitting on your shoulder, "Where are the animals?"

Your crow cocks its head at you before launching itself into the air as you gasp, "Wait! Where are you going?"

As it flies into the distance you look around the dark, snowy forest. Finding yourself completely alone.

——————————————————————————

A few hours later, at the butterfly mansion, Tanjiro sits outside pondering over the situation.

‘Should I have told her from the beginning? I only wanted to spare her feelings… but I think I made it worse.’ He thinks to himself when suddenly his train of thought is interrupted.

“Y/N L/N!! IN NEED OF IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE!! MOUNT KOMOTORI!!”

“That’s Y/n’s crow!” Tanjiro says out loud.

“Y/N L/N!! IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE!!” The bird repeats.

Snapping into action, Tanjiro runs to get his sword, passing a frazzled Zenitsu, who turns to follow him, also running.

“Did you hear?” Zenitsu questions, “Y/n needs help!”

Tanjiro glances at him, “Yeah… I’m heading there now.”

“So am I.” The blonde nods.

“I’m coming too!” A third voice joins in.

“Inosuke?” Tanjiro questions.

“You didn’t think you could go on a rescue mission without King Inosuke did you?” The boar-headed child laughs, “I’m gonna get there first, save her, and make sure everyone knows how awesome I am!”

“Y/N L/N!! IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE!! HURRY!!” The crow swoops down pecking Zenitsu on the forehead.

“Alright! Zenitsu, you’re faster than us so you go ahead. We’re right behind you.” Tanjiro orders.

For once, Zenitsu is serious, “You got it.” he nods, before dashing away.

Tanjiro, looks up with a plea to whatever god is listening, “Please let Y/n be alright until we get there!”

—————————————-—————————————

Hours later, Zenitsu is the first to arrive at the peak of Mount Komotori, it is nearing midnight.

“What happened here…” he breathes.

The surrounding area is torn to shreds. Trees snapped completely in half, sharp shards of ice sticking straight up from the ground, and blood, lots of it, smeared in the snow.

Realizing he is in the middle of a fierce battlefield, Zenitsu unsheathes his sword. Shaking slightly, he takes small steps into the forest.

“This is terrifying! I need to find Y/n and get out of here!” he squeaks.

He walks aimlessly for a while before the shaking of a bush paralyzes him in place.

“Coming through!” Inosuke jumps through the bush, pouncing on top of Zenitsu.

“Inosuke wait!” Tanjiro’s voice flows through the air.

Zenitsu, screaming at Inosuke for scaring him, suddenly pauses, snapping his gaze to Tanjiro.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what? Did you see any sign of Y/n?” Tanjiro questions.

Zenitsu pushes Inosuke off of him, straining his ears for the sound, “There! That’s it again!”

“What is it?”

“A sword!” the blonde exclaims, “I hear a sword! It has to be Y/n!”

Quickly, Zenitsu leads his friends toward the sound.

“Must be a hell of a fight…” Inosuke mumbles, observing the damage as they run through the snowy forest.

Getting closer, Tanjiro and Inosuke are finally able to hear the sound of the sword that their friend was leading them toward. Moving to a clearing to see you facing off against a demon who seems to use a blood demon art involving the manipulation of ice.

As they sprint into the clearing, you lock eyes with Tanjiro. Just as a spear of ice, launches itself into your abdomen.

“Y/N!!!” All three boys scream.

Inosuke and Zenitsu take your place against the demon, as Tanjiro runs to your side. Quickly, he pulls you a safe distance from the battle, his frenzied eyes roaming over your battered figure.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he repeats, “Focus on your breathing and you’ll be fine.”

You’re not sure if he’s reassuring you or himself.

Choking on a breath, you whimper, “Tanjiro…”

“No. Don’t talk, just breathe. Use your breathing to stop the blood,” he coaches.

But the open wound continues to pour more and more, staining the snow underneath you in a puddle of red.

“Y/n please, you have to breathe,” he pushes down on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, “Y/n you have to listen to m-“

“Tanjiro…” you interrupt, “it’s okay. I’m okay.”

You gasp for air, “It doesn’t hurt.”

At this, tears begin falling down his cheeks, as he whispers your name, pleading.

“I’m sorry.” he hiccups, “I should’ve been faster-, I shouldn’t have kept it from you-, I should’ve done-“

“It’s okay,” you interrupt once more, a whisper this time, “It’s not your fault.”

He brushes the hair from your face, and as he holds you, bloody, battered, and dying, in his arms, he sees you in a different light.

Tanjiro realizes he never quite noticed the sparkle in your eyes until now, when it’s fizzling out.

Or how soft and clear your skin is until now, when it’s covered in blood.

Or how rosy pink your lips are until now, when they’re turning blue.

“Why?” He cries, “Why is this happening?”

You lift your arm, as heavy as lead, to lay your palm on his cheek, “I’ll see you again soon, yeah?”

He runs his fingers through your blood soaked hair, sniffling, “Yeah…”

Your hand falls from his cheek, your eyes close, and you exhale one last choked breath.

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

X. we don't fight fair.

parts: previously / next plot: you and bruce talk some more about your arrangement. everyone wants to know what's going on with you two. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, angst is back baby, but so are the romcom plot beats, somebody get gordon a drink and get one for me too. words: 7.6k. a/n: LOTS of plot this chapter, but also some maybe cute things coming later. in between the horrors :D

It takes more coaxing than you would like for Bruce to let you leave alone two days later. Even with proof of a patient, he insists he send you in his car, with his driver and his guards. One of the cops on your detail had confessed they were feeling redundant, leisurely as they were anyway, parked outside General with coffees barely keeping hot in the November chill, “Just the one today, right doc?”

You snuggle deeper into your coat, hands eagerly grasping at the warmers in your pockets, “Just the one. If everything goes smoothly, I’ll be out before lunch.”

“Well, we’ll be here. Holding down the fort.” The two of them snicker to themselves. Glancing to the side, you see Bruce’s men: one in the driver’s seat of his car and the other waiting by the entrance for you. Unlike your detail, they dared not crack a smile for fear of looking too cheerful. You wouldn’t admit it out loud (because these cops were being paid to keep you alive), but you felt like your life was in much better hands with people who weren’t currently goofing around on the hood of their car.

“Right. Thanks, fellas.” You can’t be bothered to sound sincere, and from their general lack of acknowledgement, they don’t seem to care.

You spin on your heels, preparing to follow Bruce’s guard into the hospital, but nearly crash into a woman walking behind you. The collision has you stumbling and jumping back, Bruce’s guard jumping forward, and the woman baring her teeth at you in a… smile?

Her teeth glint bleach-white off the gathering snow, a few shades lighter than the hair smoothly pinned at her crown. Unlike everyone else shuffling past on the icy sidewalk, she is perfectly content with standing right in front of you under the porte-cochère. You supposed the black, mink coat wrapped around her person kept her all warm and toasty. You felt jealous. Then you felt like you should apologize for ramming into her, but nothing came out.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you,” The extravagant woman speaks first, glancing over her shoulder at the guard who now looms between the two of you, prepared to defend if need be, “Oh! Hello, pleasure to meet you.” She reaches a hand out to the guard and when he doesn’t go to take it, she snatches his hand up from his side in a firm handshake.

You’re more forthcoming with your hand when she turns to you, though you’re not at all sure why she’s bothering to introduce herself. Anyone else would’ve moved on by now. And flipped you off while they were at it.

“Ma’am, is there a problem here?” One of the cops pipes up from behind you, eyes fixed on the woman.

Her smile grows wider, “Not at all, officer. I just thought this all looked so… curious.” She gestures between the cop car and Bruce’s car with one French-tipped finger, “You wouldn’t happen to be a celebrity doctor, would you? Plumping up the pillow-faces of our city’s darling socialites, perhaps?”

You try to scoot around the woman, but she moves with you, keeping perfect eye contact with you the whole time, “I’m real sorry, but I need to get going. I have an appointment-“

“With Bruce Wayne?”

You flinch. The woman looks… familiar, now that you’re looking at her more closely. Her name escapes you. “Excuse me?”

“Bruce Wayne. That’s his car- well, one of them anyway. A source of mine says it’s the same one from two days ago when you both arrived together for… something. And the same one from a few weeks ago; if I recall, Mr. Wayne made a generous donation—a whole wing!—to Gotham General earlier this month. And now you’ve been spotted using his car. What’s that all about?”

The same cop from before flanks your side, locking you in with Bruce’s guard and this mysterious woman, “Lady, they’re busy. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

“I only want to ask a few questions.”

“And they don’t have to answer. If you keep this up, I’m gonna write you up for harassment.”

She looked like she’d been waiting to hear that. She reaches within the folds of her coat and pulls out a badge, brandishing an ID for the cop to read, “Whatever happened to freedom of the press?”

You peer at the ID yourself, at the impeccably styled photograph of the same woman with the same blonde hair falling in loose, Hollywood curls that frame her smile. Beside her photo is her name: Vicki Vale. You suddenly remember where you’d seen her before.

Vicki knows you know, too. You try to sidestep her for the door but she crowds in on you, barreling through the arms that attempt to hold her back, “Are you Mr. Wayne’s doctor? Is he sick? Is he dying?”

Your lip curls back in a snarl, “What ever happened to HIPAA?”

That amuses her. “Is he in the car right now? Is that why you’ve got all this security? Is Bruce Wayne paying for your protection after you were taken hostage a few weeks ago?”

The cop grabs Vicki by the upper arm, managing to wrangle her away from you, but she only pivots to the car, tapping her nails on the tinted windows and calling out for Bruce to comment. You almost feel sorry for her, in the way you might feel sorry for a rabid dog walking in circles on a busy street.

You feel a hand on your back and Bruce’s guard ushers you quickly into the hospital, even as Vicki shouts after you for clarification on Bruce’s whereabouts. His expression, as always, is flat.

When you’re far enough away from the lobby, you ask, “Does that kind of thing happen to… him a lot?”

The guard doesn’t bother to pause in his stride, doesn’t even bother to look down at you as he answers, “Yes.”

You supposed if you had to deal with people like Vicki Vale all your life, you’d become a recluse too.

At the very least, you hadn’t said anything damning. She would have nothing to go off of with whatever soundbite she managed to grab from you, and God save her editor when they’d inevitably have to cut out her getting threatened by a cop.

She’d been waiting for you, though. How she knew you’d be here, at this time, meant she’d either been tailing you or she had someone on her payroll doing it for her. The thought makes your stomach churn.

Bruce had been in your office twice, but you had never been in his.

It was bigger, obviously; it’s two floors below the penthouse with a receptionist outside and some hallways leading to God knows where. The receptionist—Jennifer, who insists you call her Jenny—is very forthcoming with refreshments as you wait outside for Bruce’s meeting to finish. You decide there’s no better time than now to pick apart the marble floors and TVs on the wall replaying WE’s corporate reel.

The lobby downstairs was modern, clearly remodeled, but Bruce’s office and penthouse were comparatively frozen in time. You could almost picture the first Waynes walking through here all those years ago. Everything—from the luxurious leather chair you were sitting on, to the warm low light, to the gentle clicking of Jenny’s fingers on the keyboard, to the empty glass of sparkling water she’d given you had almost made you forget that you were currently living in the penthouse upstairs.

The door to Bruce’s office opens, breaking you out of your contemplation. A man in a fine suit walks out, chatting with Bruce, though you couldn’t see the latter from where you were sitting. You can only catch the last half of their conversation: something about an auction?

You don’t have much time to think on it. Jenny quickly rises from her desk and slips into Bruce’s office, and a few seconds later comes out to invite you in.

You don’t see Bruce at first. The room is just as big as you imagined. Bruce’s desk is right across from the doors, backlit by large windows letting in the noonday light. It’s a heavy, wooden thing that is far bigger than it really has any business being with next to nothing actually on it. And, notably, he is not sitting at it.

It takes you a second to spot him to your left at a built-in bar, washing out a glass of what looked like dark liquor down the drain. It isn’t until Jenny shuts the door behind you that he looks over at you, setting the empty glass on the counter.

Today, he’d forgone a sweater for a white button-up with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. You noted the healed over cuts and scars on his arms and wondered if people asked about them the way you had, enchanted (rather than perplexed) by stories of martial arts hobbies with no concerns for where he went at night. He watches you thinking about it, but before you can ask, he speaks first, “So, you met Vicki.”

Your shoulders slump just at the mention of her. Bruce catches it and a smile, however small, warms up his expression. “Unfortunately.”

“Bet she made an impression.”

You cross the room in a few strides, undoing your coat and throwing it over a nearby chair, “She’s tactless. She said her source recognized your car and now she wants to know what we are to each other,” You pause in your ranting when you see him pour a bit of brandy into the glass next to him, “Is that for me?”

He casually hands it to you, “You look like you need it.”

You don’t have the marbles to take offense to that at the moment. You knock back the shot in one go, then go to pour yourself another one as Bruce watches you. After you throw back the second one, you realize that he hasn’t responded to you. “Weren’t you listening? I said she’s following us.”

“Plenty of reporters are, she’s not special.”

“Wh- sorry, what?”

Bruce shrugs, “Vicki Vale isn’t the only reporter in Gotham who knows what cars I drive, who I go to lunch with, or where I put my money.”

“Isn’t that…” You start to ask, but the way Bruce is looking at you makes you feel like your perfectly reasonable question has a perfectly obvious answer already, “…isn’t that bad?”

“Not when I know what cars they drive. I know who works for them. When I don't want to be seen, I’m not seen. They don’t have that luxury.”

“You keep tabs on all of them?”

You watch Bruce lean against the bar to face you, one hand in the pocket of his- okay, whoa. Either his thighs were getting bigger or his pants were getting tighter. You don’t remember his other suits being this… formfitting. You can’t help but notice how they stretch as he reclines, and though your eyes flick back up to his before he can catch you, he makes no mention of it… even if his eyes narrow some. He waits until he’s sure he has your undivided attention, “I like to be informed. Especially since we’re selling a narrative, now.”

“A narrative.” After a moment, it clicks in your mind. “That we’re together. The narrative we never agreed on selling.”

Bruce brushes right past that, “So what’d you tell Vicki?”

You pour yourself a third shot, though it’s a bit more modest. You cap off his brandy and move away from the bar as if it would silence the siren song of day-drinking, “I told her that asking if you're dying is a HIPAA violation.” Bruce's mouth twitches as if containing a laugh. "What?"

You watch him contemplate telling you, and then, as if he suddenly thinks better of it, he shakes his head. “You just reminded me. If we do agree to do this, I will have to fire you. Patient ethics."

“Which is another reason why we probably shouldn’t do it.”

His head tilts, “Probably?”

You flush. You sip on your drink, folding your other arm around your waist as he questions you with his eyes, “I just… I’m frustrated. I hate this. I hate that the safest choice here is to hide away while you take care of it. It’s not that I don’t trust you to do it, I just don’t want to run away.”

Bruce watches you in that way of his, calculating and assessing. “Going in alone is running away too. You’d be Isaac bound at the altar.”

“And you, Abraham? Delivering me to a cruel god?” A rush of exasperation sours his expression. “I’d be stopping him. It’s me he wants.”

“And what about your parents? Your friends? Judith? You’d be fine leaving them to bury you?”

“Of course I’m not- of course not.”

“Then you don’t have to do it. Trust me.”

“I do trust…” You stare at him for a moment, “I trust you. I have to. But you get that this is weird, right? Getting together for the press? Putting all eyes on us? You get why this feels weird for me, don’t you?” Bruce is quiet, holding your gaze steady. You know that this plan wasn’t his first choice, and yet he didn’t look nearly as put off by it as you were. Perhaps it was another way you two differed. Something else to chalk up to being so rich that things like this- maneuvers like this become necessary. “Why do you want to do it?”

He pushes himself off the bar, taking a step and then another until he’s squarely in front of you. You have to squeeze your hands into fists to tamp down the immediate flight response you feel being this close to him, seeing this almost unguarded side to him. It was different from the deer-in-headlights deal he had when you first met: open, but unsure. It rocks you that he doesn’t look so unsure anymore. You swallow and keep his gaze, but it feels like a lot more work for you than it is for him.

“You said you don’t want to hide, and I don’t want to make you. We need a good reason for me to stick by your side. This is a solution.”

“You don’t need to stick by me. I’ve got a detail, remember?”

“I don’t trust two cops to keep you safe.”

“Your guards, then. You’ve got more than enough to do the job for you.”

Something in Bruce’s eyes flicker, “Maybe I want it to be me.”

Your courage slips. Your lips part, sounding out words you can’t bring yourself to say. What do you say to that?

He wants it to be him. He wants to be the one to keep you safe.

Logically, you know he’s right. GCPD’s finest couldn’t hold a candle to his strength and dexterity. They couldn’t even keep him out of their servers. And his guards were better, but they were still fallible. A gunshot or a stab wound would take them out just as easily as it would anyone else. The man before you had survived both of those things and more.

Uncanny warmth unfurls your fists. It curls around your rib cage, through each bone, around each lung, worming its way up your throat and unspooling in your mind. You feel warm all over. It is a terribly strange feeling to have for Bruce Wayne, but you’re having it all the same.

If he was still just Batman to you, you might’ve done something you couldn’t easily take back.

You suddenly wish for the times when that was the case, when blindfolds were commonplace, so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eye or think through how one might have gone through with those thoughts, if one had the chance- “As far as reasons go,” you struggle around the lump in your throat, “That’s not the worst.”

Bruce smiles.

He skirts around you and heads for the desk as you watch him go, the scent of him finally permeating past your defenses. He didn’t smell like green apple today—more sandalwood or pine—and as you debate on the specific notes, he comes back to you with a flier in hand. It takes your scent-drunk mind a minute to read it.

Gotham City Food Bank presents: The Thanksgiving Bachelor Auction!

You stare. Bruce is still holding the flier out to you, expecting a reaction. You can’t really think of one. “Uh.”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Why���?”

“The food bank puts together Thanksgiving baskets every year for the needy: turkeys, tofu, yams, stuffing, the works. They do a charity event to raise money to stuff the baskets. It’s for a good cause.”

“That’s awesome. What does this have to do- oh, fuck.”

Bruce raises his eyebrows. You recall what the man from earlier mentioned about an “auction”. You snatch the flier away to look at the finer details. It would be this weekend, there were six bachelors planned (including Bruce), and each person was encouraged to bid big for charity. Dinner would be provided. It sounded nice.

“You can bring Dr. Madison,” Bruce offers, “I think she likes me.”

She does. She painfully does. You could imagine her emptying this month's and last month's paycheck on a date with Bruce. Taking him to the nicest (and least vandalized) sushi joint in the city, engaging him with tales of the kids she's saved and her love of Broadway. Pampering him with praises for his charity work, admiring him openly and easily, charming him the way she charmed him at General.

She is a charming, sweet, beautiful woman. Bruce would look very good with her, even for charity. You wonder what things would've been like had he broken into her apartment instead of yours.

“Just wait 'til she finds out you personally invited her," you force a laugh, "She's going to have to take out a loan."

"I didn't know you were planning to bid on me, too." He's joking. Obviously, he's joking, if the barely restrained smile is anything to go by.

"In your dreams, maybe." Bruce shrugs. "But... I thought we were creating a narrative. Letting someone else buy you for a night isn't very romantic." You hate how hesitant you sound, like the idea of it displeased you. You don’t mean to sound that way, of course. It's just that if anyone were going to go on a date with Bruce... shouldn't it be you?

“The dates are just for fun. You'd be my real date.” His real date. God. “It would make you look like a good sport." He sees you mulling it over, still unsure. He folds the flier into his pocket. "Or not. We don't have to tell them anything yet. I wouldn't want to make it awkward for Dr. Madison if-“

If what? If she found out you were "dating" Bruce days after telling her to her face that you didn't know his relationship status? God forbid she rub it in your face after you spent so long being indifferent about him. “It's fine. We'll come. But maybe hold off on calling me your real date until you’ve fired me. Officially. You know.”

“I'll have my people talk to your people.”

You feel queasy at the smile he gives you, so casual and reassuring. You could really use a lie-down right about now. “Okay. Well. I’ll see you at home.”

Bruce blinks, but you’re already heading for the doors of his office before you've realized what you just called his place. You hear a quiet “see you” from behind, but you don’t dare to look back.

“Please don’t agitate the inmates. We are liable for anything that happens to you on the premises, but if you go poking around where you shouldn’t, that’s on you.”

The corrections officer hands you a clip-on badge with your name on it, but when she goes to ask Batman for his ID, she hesitates.

“He’s with me.” Detective Gordon assures her from his other side. The officer’s eyes narrow. James raises an eyebrow, “I talked to the warden about it. If you’d like to bring it up with him.”

That seems to be all the convincing she needs. She passes James his badge and gestures for you three to continue on down toward the visitation room.

It had been a hassle getting Bruce through the metal detectors, and it had been distraction enough that it didn’t weigh on you just who you were going to see until you were already in the room.

It was wide, with vending machines and a couple of tables scattered about, barred windows allowing a look into the unusually sunny afternoon outside. A handful of inmates were already there: some visiting family, others meeting with lawyers. It made it easy to spot him. Lucien was the only one alone, and from the looks of him, he was more happy to see you than you were to see him.

As you three walk over, he stands from the table, grinning ear-to-ear. You barely remembered his face from when you were younger, save for the same patchy beard that had yet to fill in after all these years. He greets Bruce first, holding out a hand, “Wow. You know, I’ve never seen you up close before. Kinda glad about that.”

Bruce does not shake his hand. Lucien’s smile is unwavering. His eyes slide past yours to meet the detective’s, and James shakes his hand out of pity.

It isn’t until you and James sit down that Lucien finally looks at you dead on. “You look good.” You feel your stomach lurch. It didn’t feel good to hear, especially when he looked at you like freshly caught prey. When you make no move to reply to that, he shrugs, “I almost didn’t recognize you. I hear you’re a doctor now. Really worked your way up from gutter trash, huh?”

Your expression hardens and he snickers.

James cuts in for you, “Mr. Goulding, we requested a visit because we think you might be able to help us with an ongoing case you were involved in. Can you tell us what you remember about Dimitri Young?”

Lucien’s eyes slither back to James, “Not much. Kid wasn’t with us long. He was… skinny. Cried easy. Up Nat’s ass all the time.”

“Were you close with Ms. Young?”

“Yeah, yeah. You could say that. We worked with each other. Ran the trade for a while with a couple other kids. Got a lot of customer service experience back then. She was… nice. Shame what happened.”

James raises an eyebrow, “Seems like you were on good terms. And after Natalie was killed, did you keep up with Dimitri? Visit him at Arkham, maybe? Write him letters?”

Lucien glances at you. “Well… it was tricky. Thanks to the good doctor and friends, I had to steer clear of the whole thing for a while. Felt bad for the kid, though. When I heard about the plea deal… I’d have taken life here over Arkham. I don’t care how fucked up the kid got over Nat’s death. What they’re doing down there?” He looks over at James and grimaces, “That’s the real criminal shit.”

You remembered that. His lawyer had pleaded insanity under the guise he’d get parole on good behavior, gain sympathy for having lost his only family so brutally. You remembered what Bruce said too; he’d been good. He was doing good until he saw you.

James gears up to ask another question but Lucien cuts him off, “Are they gonna talk or are they just decoration?” He points his finger at you and Bruce who hovers over your shoulder.

You wring your hands underneath the table, feeling Bruce’s eyes burning into the back of your skull. The truth was that you had a list of questions to ask him. You’d stayed up all night writing them down, rehearsing them.

Now, you could only remember Natalie and the barrel of her gun.

Lucien was there, too. He was on the frays of the memory as he always was. The shootout had yielded successes and failures, and Lucien, who’d been there that night—who laughed as Alex laughed and laughed harder when the bullet nestled itself into the meat of her brain—had not been found for years after that. You thought sometimes that you saw him on the street, but his appearance in your memory was just as frayed.

It all comes back to you now that you’re sitting in front of him. The everyman, a person meant to blend into the crowd. It didn’t surprise you that he’d managed to stay out of here for so long.

“…You don’t have to if you’re not ready.” James’ voice floats in between your musing, making you aware of his and Lucien’s eyes on you. Lucien is still smiling, strands of golden hair slipping out of the small bun at the back of his head.

“Why did you stay with the Vipers for so long?”

Your question surprises him, like he hadn’t expected you to have a voice after all these years, “I was open to new opportunities. But they paid well and you’re almost guaranteed a good position if you don’t get gunned down before 18. I was running my own little unit of teenyboopers before I got locked up.”

You frown. How casual he is describing it all. “They didn’t toss you aside as soon as you got too old to control?”

“No, no. That was your friend’s big issue, wasn’t it? Scared to be controlled. Nah. The boss man liked me. You know they like ‘em young, easy to impress upon and all that. They want the lifelong loyalty. I’ve never been that devoted, you know? But I liked the money.”

“Do you know what happened to Dimitri?” This question, Bruce asks. For the first time, you see Lucien’s smile dim some.

Lucien clears his throat, “No. Kid kick the bucket?”

“He broke out with some inmates not too long ago. He’s on the street hunting down people related to Nat’s case.”

Lucien looks from Bruce to you, then breaks out into a fit of hysterical giggles. The sound is grating to your ears. “Holy shit. He wants to kill you.”

“He’s killed one person already,” James stresses, trying to save you the humiliation. “We need to know if you think he could be working with the Vipers again. We believe someone is supplying him with… venom.”

“Venom? Fuck me. That’s expensive, especially those newfangled strains they had on the street when I was out. Can really fuck you up if you’re not careful.”

“Did the Vipers have their hands on that kind of stuff? You were a lieutenant after all.”

“Maybe. Not as much as they did drops. That was all the rage. Venom’s too volatile and, like I said, it can really fuck you up,” Lucien exhales hard through his nose. “If Dimitri’s on that, he’s not gonna last. Especially if the Vipers are giving it to him.”

You frown, “Why especially?”

“I mean, come on. Same reason you and your friend beat the shit out of him all those years ago,” You flinch at the memory. “He was weak and nobody gave a shit about him except Nat. My guess is the kid probably went back to ‘em for help, and they saw an opportunity to make him a lab rat.” You feel Bruce shift behind you as his cape brushes what little of your arm you were allowed to leave exposed here. Lucien’s eyes drift up Bruce’s body, sparkling with some new recollection, “And with Mr. Vengeance on the streets, I imagine juicing your best men up with venom oughtta make a nice challenge.”

Lucien watches as you process what he'd realized instantly. Behind the feigned impassivity, some little bit of him seems to find this just as awful as you do. Even if it's just pity, a shake of the head as foresight grants him the knowledge that what comes next will undoubtedly be a tragedy.

It had to have been Dimitri’s first time on venom when he attacked Russo, and as uncoordinated as he was, he had put up a fight against Bruce. You couldn’t imagine what he’d be like if he got better at it. If he got more of it. And he would, if the Vipers had any sense. You knew they didn't give a shit about you, or Russo, or Alex, or Dimitri. They were just hoping that his rage would make a casualty out of the Batman.

He was going to kill himself for the chance. And the Vipers wouldn't care. They would leave his doped up, bloated carcass in the street like they had left Nat.

You realize that you aren't breathing when you feel a cool hand on your upper back, closing around your scruff and sending a jolt of awareness through you. You almost think that it's Dimitri—having crawled out of your racing thoughts and come to take you once and for all—before realizing that it was Bruce, hovering so close now that his cape brushed your shoulders. His leather-clad thumb brushes against the nape of your neck, and when you look up to see him looking down at you, you catch him imploring you for something. Urging you to get out of your head.

Looking at him reminds you to breathe. You take one deep breath in, holding his gaze, and turn back to Lucien.

When you do, he looks different now. His eyes linger on Bruce’s hand. When you ask him your next question, he doesn’t seem to delight in the drama of it anymore, “After Dimitri was put away, what did the Vipers do?”

Lucien stares at you, then past you. His tone is solemn after a few moments of silence, “It was business as usual. They packed up what they could, moved to their other safe-houses in the city, relocated and reallocated. They talked about… the kid costing more than he was worth. Handful of us pitched in and got Nat a grave. I’ve been a few times. Not recently. It was nice.”

“Where?”

His eyes narrow at you, “Why do you give a shit? You feel guilty? Wanna leave some flowers for the dearly departed?”

You feel your lower lip wobble and you curse the feelings burning inside you. You were trying so hard to keep it together. “Do you think any of the Vipers would bother to tell him?”

He stares at you for a minute. Someone new walks into your peripheral view. It’s one of the correctional officers warning you about time. Something soft coats Lucien’s voice then, "She's in St. Agatha’s cemetery, near the treeline. The name on the marker is Adelpha Lions. We couldn't bury her as Natalie.”

Adelpha Lions. St. Agatha's. You think about bringing her flowers, but the thought leaves a terrible taste in your mouth.

The officer from before comes back to escort the three of you out, and Lucien doesn't bother to acknowledge her or James thanking him for his time. He only watches you, leveling you with a look of such contempt that you feel your chest hollow out, breath stolen again. He watches you well until the door to the visitation room swings shut.

Bruce and James walk ahead of you, though you notice that Bruce lags behind, glancing back at you every once in a while to make sure you're keeping up. James mentions something about keeping an eye on the cemetery, just in case Dimitri does know about it, and it leaves the same terrible taste in your mouth from before.

You know you ought to say something, but you find yourself drifting after them, mind elsewhere, stuck on the way Lucien looked at you. It was like a switch flipped when he saw Bruce touch you.

Why had he touched you? So blatantly, so intimately? He had to have known how that would look. Could it have been that he didn't care? Or, that he cared more about you?

You peek at Bruce’s profile as you walk; the cold lights above you both make the black of his cowl stand out, but they also make the blue of his eyes that much more piercing when they suddenly zero in on you. Your name is called. You look to the side and see James staring at you, expecting, worried almost, “You good back there?”

“Sorry. What?”

“I said I’d like to talk to you.”

“Oh. Sure.”

“Alone. If you don't mind.”

You look at Bruce. His eyes have focused on James now, searching for what he might want to talk about. You wished you could read minds. You decide it couldn't hurt to ask, “Can I ask what about?”

“Just some... questions. We haven't had the chance to really speak since the night you were attacked. I'd like to follow up with you." You bristle when you realize he expects Bruce to fully leave. James notices, glancing between you and Bruce. "I’ll drop you back at Wayne Tower, since your detail says that’s where you’re staying now.” When you don't make a move to confirm, he sighs, jerking his thumb toward the exit, "...I'll let you two talk."

You watch him walk toward the parking garage, just as Bruce crowds up against you, dropping his voice to a whisper, "He wants to know about me."

"Yeah, no shit. What do I say to him?"

"I told him I'd look into Bruce Wayne to keep him off my trail. There's not much I can do since you told him what you saw." You can hear the irritation bleed through his words. "As far as he knows, Bruce Wayne could be a suspect and you could be in danger."

You curse under your breath, "So I need to clear your name."

"What exactly did you tell him the night you were attacked? Exactly."

"I... I said that I had reason to believe... uh, confidential information was leaked to Bruce."

"Did you tell him exactly what the information was?"

"No."

"Did you tell him where you saw it?"

"No. Just that I knew you knew something you shouldn't. But he knows I had no proof."

Bruce goes quiet. You see him looking off to the side, eyes flicking to and from as he thinks about what to say next. Each second feels like a minute, and you keep watch over the direction James went for fear he'd come looking for you after too long.

You feel Bruce's hand take your upper arm and he brings you closer, tucking you away from the security cameras overhead and into him instead, "Can you lie?"

"You want me to lie to a detective?"

"We don't have a lot of options here. Can you lie?"

You frown, biting into your bottom lip to ground yourself. The pain focuses you some, "What do you want me to say?"

It's your luck that James is patient. A few minutes later, you find him propped up against the trunk of his car, hands in his pockets as he waits patiently for you and Bruce. Bruce gives you both a single nod before heading off to his own car, leaving you alone with the detective and the world of questions he could be gearing up to ask you.

But before you prepare yourself for the first one, James walks around to the driver's side door, flashing you a playful look, “You ever seen the Bat Signal up close?”

The answer was obviously no, but now that it was right in front of you, you wanted nothing more than to see it turned on. You'd seen it light up the cloudy night sky a million times it felt like, and it never failed to take your breath away. It's far too sunny out to see it now. As the chilly breeze tries to sneak under your clothes, you turn to watch the sunlight glint off the skyscrapers, enjoying the little bit snowy Gotham afforded this late in the year.

The city’s still loud from this high up, but it’s different. Kind of like how it felt watching the city from the penthouse. Up here, it felt secluded. Private. Perhaps that’s why James picked it. He kicks the base of the floodlight with his shoe and it barely tremors, “Was a hell of a time trying to get this thing up here. Chief's still coming around to it.”

You think about the burner phone in your pocket. Bruce’s relationship with the rest of the GCPD was… strained at best, but he and James seemed close; you wondered just how deep their relationship went, exactly. Apparently, not deep enough to tell him who he was.

His voice catches your attention just then. “You living with Wayne, now? How'd that happen?"

You breath out a heavy sigh, “I uh… yeah. He offered. After the whole thing with Dimitri. Just until he’s caught.”

“That’s awfully generous.” You don’t respond to that, so he presses more. "Did he offer or did he...?"

"He offered. No coercion." That wasn't entirely the truth, but you had no room for nuance right now.

“Do you feel safe with him?”

“I do.”

“You seemed worried when we first talked about him. You said he had your file.”

“I... I said that I thought he had access to it. Because of something he said."

James’ eyes narrow at you, watching you with his head tilted. “What'd he say to you?"

"He just mentioned something about the... the case. I told him where I grew up and it jogged a memory."

"Is that so?"

You cursed how apathetic James could make himself look. You had no clue if this was working on him, only that you had to follow through with this, seams tight, no loopholes. "He heard about the shooting. His butler, Alfred, he's always been really protective of Bruce. Everyone knew the Vipers snatched kids with no one to check on them, I think he just wanted Bruce to stay safe. Make sure he didn't make the wrong decision if he went out and got himself in trouble. Like I did."

"So, you told Wayne where you grew up, he brought up the shooting, it triggered something in you. You assumed he knew about your file and you felt threatened. That's why you went to the Bat."

"Yeah."

"And now... nothing?" James raises an eyebrow, gesturing to the empty air. "It's all good now?"

It wouldn't be a good story if it was all good. You twist away from James, leaning against a nearby pillar, "Not exactly. I don't know if he really knows or not, it just felt like a scary coincidence. You know? But I told Batman and he said he'd look into it. I trust him above all else."

"You seemed so sure the night I interviewed you."

"I was looking for patterns."

James hums. "The Bat seems to really like you."

That was a shift. You perk up a bit. “What do you mean?”

“He speaks highly of you. Says I can trust you like I trust him. If you say you feel safe for now, I trust you." Your skin prickles with flattery. "There's just something that's not quite making sense to me."

“Oh?”

"When I looked into your file, nothing looked out of place. GCPD keeps a log of who accesses a file, and from what I could tell, it hadn’t been touched in years. It looked fine… at first.”

Had this been a few days ago, this information would have shook you to your core. It still does, but for an entirely different reason now.

“I’m—admittedly—not great with computers. Normally, I’d ask the guys down in IT about this kind of thing, but seeing as… anyone could be involved, I had my daughter take a look at it. She-“

“Your daughter?”

James pauses. You were no cop, but that didn’t sound particularly legal. Then again, you didn’t have much room to speak. “She… she showed me the metadata, beyond just the stuff we usually see up front, and she found something. The database logs who accesses what because poking around files you have no business looking at can get your badge taken. Needless to say, she found more than a few things wrong.”

“Oh?” This time, your “oh” sounds decidedly more nervous.

“The name and badge number of the last person to access your file was scrubbed from the frontend, but it was still available on the backend. It was an officer, Paul Brown. When I pulled him aside to ask why he needed your file, he claimed he didn’t know anything about it or you. He seemed to be telling the truth, but doing some further digging, I found a trail of cases he’d been accessing over the past two years. Cases related to certain notable figures in the city.”

Notable figures. Like Bruce? Was there more he hadn’t told you?

"I found a connection between those cases and some recent movement from the Penguin. Turned out the guy was a mole feeding intel to Cobblepot. And not just him. I was checking the files he accessed against a timeline of events, and I have reason to believe he’s been feeding a couple of politicians the same need-to-know information. Politicians like Daniel Roberts.”

“Councilman Roberts.” You feel your blood pressure rise as James nods, “Detective, I don’t mean to be rude, but should I even be hearing about this? This sounds serious, way too serious for me-“

“You were there that night at the party Wayne threw, and so was Roberts.”

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean anything. There were tons of politicians there who support the mayor. Bruce is interested in politics. Doesn’t mean he’s in bed with them.”

Your defense seems to intrigue James. He rests an arm on the floodlight, “Did the two seem chummy at the party?”

“They didn’t really… talk. I mean, he intervened when I got into an argument with Roberts, but-“

“An argument about what?”

You could kick yourself. It was like this man had a skill for drawing the truth out of you. “It was stupid. He said some stuff about Batman and it got me riled up. Bruce put out the fire.”

“Roberts is the most vocal anti-vigilante member on the city council. Now I know he's connected to a dirty cop, and that he's in Bruce Wayne's circle. Doesn't that seem a little strange to you?”

You swallow, “What exactly are these questions leading to, detective?”

James moves away from the floodlight, approaching you slowly, cautiously, as if he expected you to take flight the second he got too close. “You told me that night that you knew Wayne had information about you he shouldn't have. I found the thread, I pulled it, and now I find Wayne at the center all over again. I'm looking for patterns, too. So, I'm going to ask you again," You watch him reach into his pocket and pull out his phone, flipping the screen to you. In big, bold text, it reads, "NOD IF WE'RE BEING RECORDED" "Are you sure you're safe?"

You should win an Emmy for how you school your expression into one of complete nothingness. All the while in your head, you are cursing the very bed Bruce was conceived upon. You curse him for leaving you here to explain all this, but most of all, you wish you’d kept his bottle of brandy.

You shake your head. James blinks. "I'm sure." You watch him exhale heavily, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "I'm telling you what I believe, detective. I believe I was wrong about Bruce Wayne."

"Maybe. But maybe there's more out there I still need to find."

"You're a good detective, James. Thank you for caring so much. If you can't trust me, trust Batman. If there's something to find, he'll find it."

You can see the slight shake in James’ shoulders. You wonder if he’s starting to freeze up here. You reach into your pocket and hand him one of your warmers, and though he recoils when you first hold out your hand, he thinks about it for a moment, then takes it. "You and the Bat..." He starts, rubbing his thumb against the heat pack in his hand. "He tell you who he is?"

You dodge the question as stealthily as you can, "Did he tell you?"

James considers your question, stern-faced and shivering, “No. But I have my theories." After a moment, he side-eyes you. "You didn't answer my question."

"It's... not for me to say."

He's not satisfied, and you didn’t expect him to be, but he looks too tired to argue now. He runs a hand along his face and looks out onto the city horizon. Under his breath, you hear him whisper, “Yeah. I figured.”

"He trusts you a lot, you know. For the record. I can see why."

You watch him reach into the pocket of his coat and pull out a lighter and cigarette, bringing it to his lips to take a long, deep drag. He holds one out to you, but you shake your head. You'd never been one for smoking (you'd seen the effect it had on the insides), but you could envy the temporary peace on James' face as he blows out a cloud of smoke. "Not a lot of that to spare these days."

a/n: this was a bitch to write with a headache

[llamagoddessofficial]

A (late) birthday present for the coolest lady in the universe, @aka-indulgence , featuring her two favourite omnics. Because if anyone on this earth deserves to be squashed between two handsome robots, its her

---

“Human.” Zenyatta’s voice was... different.

You blinked, pulled out of your reverie. Ugh, you had just managed to stop thinking about how cold the monastery floor was under your butt. The omnics around you were meditating, as they often were; unimpeded by heat or cold, they sat dressed in only loose Shambali robes with their meditation balls floating effortlessly in front of them, utterly impervious to the snow piling onto the monastery roof above them or the icy chills that occasionally swept through the wide stone rooms.

Not like you. Even wrapped up in the only hoodie and coat you had bought with you, you were freezing.

You looked over at Zenyatta, sat right beside you, as he often was. Your knees were almost touching. Mondatta often joked that the two of you were ‘partners in crime’, a moniker that you were more than happy to adopt. Though out of the two of you, Zenyatta was by far the most criminal. 

Zen’s voice... it had a lilt to it you hadn’t heard before. Something almost careful - like he was worried about how you’d react to his words.

“Yeah?” He was actually sitting, too. Not just floating a few inches above the ground. He was looking right at you, cute head turned a little to the side. His constant expression was as sweet and gentle as ever, regardless of how he really felt.

“Are you alright?” 

Your brows furrowed. “O-of course?”

“You’re shaking.” He moved his hands from upturned in his lap, to flat on his knees. “You have been, for several minutes.”

You always appreciated how much Zenyatta emphasised his physical movements. It almost felt like he was doing it specifically to make life easier for you; he was always nodding, gesticulating with his hands, letting out affirmative hums and sighs, anything that would clue you in to his current thoughts. As if pantomiming human expressions for your benefit.

“I’m sorry. Is it making it hard for you to concentrate on meditating?”

“You’re cold. Aren’t you?”

You were embarrassed. Everyone around you at that moment literally didn’t feel the cold. The Shambali Monastery accepted human visitors throughout the year, but in winter, hardly anyone wanted to make the trek - and you were currently the only human in the entire building.

“A-a little.”

...

Zenyatta slumped. “We forgot you get cold. It’s the middle of winter in a mountain monastery. How could we forget you would get cold?”

You let out a tiny laugh. “I’m ok. Really.” 

A deep and reverberated voice, right behind you. 

“You’re cold?”

You jumped, at the sound. Holy shit Ramattra was literally just in the spot directly behind you. You looked over your shoulder at him - he was sitting cross legged, casual, as if he had been there the whole time. He definitely hadn’t been there when you sat down earlier. How did he move so quietly, when he was so huge? Those dark eye slits were watching you so very intently.

“H-how did you...?”

“You are.” Ramattra didn’t let up. He leant forward, it felt as if he was staring into your soul. “You’re quivering.”

His tone made you shudder. Even though Ramattra spoke far more softly with you now than he initially did when you first met, it was still often hard to tell whether or not he was upset. He definitely didn't make the same effort Zenyatta did to show you how he felt. “You surprised me.”

“Human,” Zenyatta’s voice was delicate. “Do you need to take a break?”

“I-I’m good.” You forced yourself to smile despite the two omnics insistently closing in on you. “I mean... yes, I am cold. But it’s just temperature. It’s not the end of the world.”

“I really think you should take a break.” He sounded insistent.

“I’m fine. Really.”

Zenyatta turned to look at Ramattra. They held eye contact.

... Zenyatta nodded.

When Ramattra stood up, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe he was just going to find a new spot. He stepped forward, probably to go past you.

... He leant down and picked you up. 

You yelped, suddenly snapped out of your cold-induced stupor, as you were swept clear off the ground by arms that clearly carried you with absolutely zero effort - he scooped you up like you weighed about as much as an empty cardboard box, hefting you up into a secure grip against his massive chest and beginning to walk. Zenyatta stood too.

If it were anyone else you would’ve started kicking your legs, shouting, freaking out. But it was Ramattra. It really wasn’t fair that you had two omnics here that you were crushing on... you absolutely couldn’t move, your body had seized up, flustered beyond belief. Your face and ears were pounding, so you just immediately clung onto him.

“P-put me down!” you squeaked.

His response was a chuckle. He moved so fluidly, so casually, carrying you out of the main room. “This is your own fault, human. We gave you a chance to take a break willingly.”

Your heart was hammering. “That doesn’t mean you can just - ”

“This isn’t a conversation.”

Ramattra eventually came to a room you recognised - your room. Considering you were one of very few members of the monastery that actually needed to sleep, you had been given somewhere private to rest your head whenever required. Ramattra pushed the door open with his foot, allowing it to swing shut behind him.

“O-ok, I get it, I need to rest.” You felt dizzy. “Put me down now.”

“Hm... no.” Ramattra sat, still holding you tightly. “I don’t think I will.”

“Huh? G-get - ”

That’s when you felt it, bleeding through your clothes. Warmth. Instinctively, you inhaled - Ramattra was hot to the touch. Heat was emanating from within the very metal he was made of. Every part of him was hot, like a hot water bottle, it was as if you’d stumbled in from an icy storm and come home to an open fire. You immediately stopped flapping and just curled into him.

“You’re so warm?” you blurted.

“Omnics can raise and lower their body temperature at will." He settled, seemingly getting comfortable. "Now relax. No need to be foolish.”

Zenyatta re-appeared, closing your room door behind you. He was holding something. By the time you figured out what it was, it was already being tucked around you; a thick down blanket.

Woah. Going from freezing to this was amazing. Tingles spread across your back and chest... you let out a shaky sigh of delight. 

You didn’t catch the look that Ramattra and Zenyatta cast between each other. 

“Human,” Zenyatta hummed, sitting down beside Ramattra. “might I have your hands, for a moment?”

You were confused, but absolutely utterly pacified by the heat, you offered your palms to him. Zenyatta reached out, and wrapped his metal digits carefully around your distinctly soft and fleshy ones. 

... They were hot too - you gasped. You felt Ramattra’s chuckle through his chest. It was like your very own personalised hand warmers, how long had the two of them been able to do this? Heating their bodies? Zen’s hands immediately flushed out the horrible numbness you’d grown accustomed to over the course of the day. 

Everything was warm... finally, you were warm. Inside and out.

Your head rocked, cuddling against Ramattra’s chest. You couldn’t help but hum in delight.

“Is that better?” Zenyatta brushed his thumbs over your knuckles, but eventually let your hands go. Entire body sufficiently restored to a comfortable temperature, you could do nothing but enjoy the sensation. 

“Mhm,” your response was grumbly and relaxed and tiny, face against Ram’s sternum, feeling the warmth leaking into your skin. One large hand gave you a gentle squeeze.

Ramattra’s tone was the softest you’d ever heard it. “Am I forgiven for kidnapping you?”

“I guess.”

“I have spoken to Master Mondatta.” Zenyatta said. “Someone else will take care of your chores today.”

... Huh? Your eyes suddenly opened (you hadn’t even noticed you’d shut them), you sat up. “W-wait. I can’t just bunk off,”

Ramattra’s grip, though gentle, was ironclad. “We insist.”

“But that’s so rude!” 

Ramattra was having none of it. He pulled the blanket tighter around you, restricting your movements and preventing you from wiggling free. “No struggling. You’re staying right here.”

“It’s a matter of your health.” Zenyatta pointed at you disapprovingly. “And you have no right to fight it. You brought this upon yourself - you delayed in informing us of your discomfort. We must make sure you are adequately warm for the rest of the day. Frostbite is a very real concern for you, at this altitude.”

“You’re not letting me go?”

“Absolutely not,” Ramattra hummed.

You exhaled through your nose, like a sulking child, but said nothing. 

Zenyatta sounded softer, now, less like he was lecturing you and somewhat more imploring. “I only wish you’d mentioned how cold you were sooner. Most omnics have the ability to warm their core. I could have assisted. Though Brother Ramattra is most likely best for warming you up, considering he possesses more body to warm you with.”

“You are indeed very small,” Ramattra tutted.

You let out a tiny laugh, much to the delight of the two omnics, but the laugh quickly morphed into a yawn. You shivered one more time, but not because you were cold - it felt more like your body was shaking away the last vestiges of cold that’d clung to you through the day. 

With that, your entire being was toasty from the inside out. If you could purr, you would.

You made a contented and comfortable humming sound, relaxing back against Ramattra’s huge chest. Again, you didn’t catch the look they shot between each other. The two omnics knew each other well enough for the slightest glances to say more than hours of conversation could.

“Tired?” Zenyatta asked, gently.

“A... a little.” Your eyes felt heavy. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Because of the cold?”

“Mhm.”

“Well,” he chuckled, “I’m sure Brother Ramattra would be happy to accompany you to bed tonight.”

Ram snapped. “Quiet.”

“... Would you? To keep me warm?” From Ramattra’s chest, you could just about peek up and make ‘eye contact’ with him. “I’d like that a lot.”

Ramattra, strangely, didn’t reply. He just stared down at you, for a few moments, then looked away - lifting his hand to his mouth like he was covering it.

Zenyatta spoke up. “Of course. Either of us would accompany you, if it would make you more comfortable during the night.”

“Both would be nice,” you mumbled.

You were so sleepy now. You yawned one more time. Maybe... maybe you could just skip your chores after all. Mondatta said it was fine, right? You were so tired. And so warm. No one was really checking... you had permission. And two bodyguards to keep you safe. Maybe you should just...

... A few minutes of complete warm bliss passed.

Ramattra’s voice thrummed through you. “... She really is like a little kitten, isn’t she?”

“Indeed. I told you.”

“Did her shaking not bother you? It was adorable. In an infuriating manner.”

“Of course it did. My motors ache from restraining myself. But unlike you, I know to keep my thoughts to myself.”

“Tch.”

“Hm?” you hummed, not at all catching what was being said.

“Nothing.” Ram hummed. “Go to sleep.”

“Mh. Ok.”

[pearlescentparade]

Hiiiiiiiiii!!!! I HAVE RETURNED FOR A REQUEST!!!

Can I get fluff with Traffic (yes, from Phighting, and yes there NEEDS to be more of him 💔) where he's telling you about his travels? Fluff please!

-🌺🌊

around the world 🚥 traffic x reader fluff drabble 💝

your head rests on your hands as you lean on the counter of traffic's mini pop-up stall, intently looking up at its owner. business is slower now that the evening is setting in, and most inphernals are either home or rushing to get there, so traffic has all the time in the inpherno to focus on his lone customer. and though you don't buy anything, he always appreciates some good company.

you softly sigh, your warm breath forming white puffs of smoke in the cold air. "y'know, i don't get out of here as often as i should.. i'm just too used to crossroads, i think i'd perish anywhere else. like a fish out of water." absentmindedly, you glance to one of the colossal green signs towering over the street leading to one of the factions. those have always felt imposing, like it looked down upon you for your nonalignment. being born in crossroads with no allegiance to any faction made you free, but you mourned your lack of a definite culture.

traffic lazily grins, his relaxed expression void of judgement. "that's alright. think you'd change yo' mind if i tell you how it is in those other places? it might help."

you nod immediately. even if you aren't able to be convinced to pick up traveling, you just like to listen to traffic's voice anyway. and you figure he's probably itching to share his experiences. he's mentioned how little he gets to talk to the other vendors.

he leans back in his chair, placing a foot on the counter and bringing a hand to his chin while he thinks. "i always need to wear at least 6 layers when i'm travelling to blackrock, that weather's no joke, dude. they got loads of sweet tech all over the place, though. almost everything is replaced with technology: busses, menus, think i even saw a robotic ball that sprouted legs and brought itself back after it got thrown," traffic mimics a walking motion with his index and middle finger, "craaaazy cool."

"sounds like it came straight out of a dystopian novel.." a shiver travels up your spine at the mental image you've started to conjure up. a faction run completely by machine, with little organic life... compared to crossroads, which is almost always bustling with inphernals and liveliness, blackrock sounded dead and cold. thinking back on all of the blackrockians you've met before, it makes sense why they act that way.

he laughs, and the gems strung across his horns jingle, as if laughing with him. both sounds float away in the night breeze. "yeah, it kinda does. but the snow is real pretty, maybe i should take you to just see that then blast outta there." your eyes light up at his off-handed suggestion of taking you along.

"sounds like a plan." travelling is better with friends, especially with friends who are experts. and more especially with cute friends who are experts. so maaaaybe you'd be a bit more open about going to blackrock if he's coming with.

he continues on, "then there's playground. dude, those guys are jaaccckkeeddd. i almost got jumped one time by one of the gangs there." his hand reaches behind his head to scratch it, as if he should feel awkward about it.

traffic mentions it casually, like it's an everyday experience he's used to. on the other hand, you straighten up and abruptly lean towards him with a worried face painted on your features. "seriously?? did you get hurt??" in your concern, you don't seem to notice how a faint pink dances over traffic's face at how close you are, yet he doesn't lean back to create distance.

playing it cool, he waves it off, "nah, i offered some of my 'supply' and we all got stoned. they were chill after that." despite his reassurance, you sweat. is that really how he should be defusing situations...?

you sigh in disappointment and it almost tugs traffic's usual smile into a frown, his lips twitching slightly downward before quickly reverting back upward. "i hope you're not doing that every time you get into trouble, that stuff has bad long-term effects." it's probably all stuff he's heard before, but you still nag, like he'd actually listen to you. maybe a part of you hoped it would be different if it came from you.

"i heard you can get brain fog and memory problems from it. if you ever forget me, i'll seriously cry. then i'll put you in the ground after." you hold up a clenched fist for emphasis as you narrow your eyes at him. your threat has no true malice behind it, but you still want him to take it seriously.

traffic playfully quirks a brow. "aw, now you're makin' me feel bad." he shifts in his seat and crosses his arms, but not defiantly. "alright, i'll lay off for a while. just for you." then, he has the audacity to point finger guns at you and shoot a wink your way. you simply roll your eyes and groan at his corniness, which earns you a wheezy laugh from him.

after he comes down from his little laughing fit, he resumes his stories. "you've probably never been to a thieves' den festival, eh? the fireworks are a sight, lots of colors and really sweet designs. lots of demons set up a picnic on one of the cliffs and watch with friends and family. we should go together sometime."

"you asking me out?" you tease, naively hoping to catch a glimpse of a flustered traffic.

"yup." your hopes are crushed with his blunt response, and instead, it's you who gets a little embarrassed. out of the kindness of his heart, traffic refrains from laughing, if only for your sake. "though, there's lots of pickpockets there, especially 'round festival time. we'll have to stick kinda close together, that coo'?" he talks like it's already been settled that you're going. but considering your track record of being unable to say no to him, it's a reasonable assumption.

you huff, "oh trust me, i wouldn't dare stray too far from you in a place i know nothing about. i'm gonna cling onto you for dear life."

traffic snorts, finding amusement in the thought of you anxiously holding onto him like the introvert friend at a party. "i wouldn't mind that." because of course he wouldn't. he probably wouldn't even mind it if you climbed him and rode on his shoulders the entire time you guys were there.

you mutter a 'good' under your breath, and he moves on, "finally, there's lost temple. its golden desert goes for miiiiiles. 's great to look at but not to hike through... i'm still shaking the sand out of my shoes weeeeks after." he chuckles, a husky noise. "the jewelry is real gorgeous, though. super detailed craftsmanship and stuff, dude."

"ooh, you wanna bring back any for me?" when you ask, you mean it rhetorically, as silly banter. like you're half-expecting traffic to say 'nah', even if you know it's not in his nature.

but there's an earnest look in traffic's eyes when he asks, "don't need to if we're going together, right?" and he holds a hand out, like he's inviting you to go now, even though the both of you know fully well you're going nowhere when it's so dark out.

for a moment, you simply look at his hand, as if you have no clue what to do with it. "you're really bent on that, huh? you don't even have the courtesy to be discreet about it.."

but it only delays the inevitable of your hand joining his, slotting almost perfectly on top. he feels rough, but enticingly warm. it doesn't help when his fingers gingerly move to enclose around yours, ensnaring them in a trap of tenderness.

"my bad, i'm just excited to have a travel buddy, 's all."

(parade postscript: im the damn dialogue disciple but it cant be helped when the whole premise of the drabble is traffic yapping + you don't switch locations and stay at his fuckass stall the whole time </3 also guys im a licensed driver now)

[eddiesxangel]

HOE HOE pantyHOES | Eddie Munson x Reader

CW: Christmas theme smut. idk what else to tell you; read it and find out. minors dni 18+ only.

Word count 1.9k

You sat in front of your vanity mirror, frantically preparing for Steve’s annual Christmas party. You got home late from work and had to pick up dessert from the bakery before heading home to get ready. Now, you managed to get yourself half dressed before getting distracted by your hair and makeup.

You heard a knock on the front door and yelled for them to enter. You were expecting Robin to pick you up tonight; she probably got fed up waiting in the parking lot for you.

A muffled “hello” was barely audible over your Christmas carols. You reply with a “in here!” As you fixate on the sequinned black bow to the back of your head.

“You’re not Robin,” you smirked, seeing who poked their head through your bedroom door.

Eddie stops in his tracks as his eyes drink in your body. You had managed to get into your matching black bra, panties and black stockings but nothing else before you remembered you needed to fix up your makeup.

“Uh- sorry, I uh- I’ll wait out here.” he quickly looks away before shuffling around the room, clearly flustered.

“It’s okay, Ed’s, I’m almost done,” you shrug.

“You sure?” He still isn’t looking at you, but his cheeks are red like Santa’s.

You stand up and walk towards him; your dress is on your bed.

“Yea. Nothing you haven’t seen before.” you give him a coy smile because technically you are fully covered; your black opaque stockings are just like leggings, and your bra is like a bathing suit.

“Sure, yeah.” He peeks up to get another look.

Fuck, did he like what was in front of him. You managed to pull off cute and sexy all at the same time as you step into your dress and slowly pull it up your body.

“Can you zip me up?” You ask, turning your back to him.

Flustering Eddie was one of your favourite things to do.

He doesn’t say anything; he just steps closer with shaky hands to accept your request. You feel him slowly brush your hair off your back and over your shoulder out of the way. You could feel his breath hit your bare neck before he bravely bent down to kiss where your shoulder and neck meet.

“Eddie,” you moan. The visible chill of the kiss apparent over your flesh.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he jumps back. And you can’t help but giggle.

“It’s okay, Eddie, baby. Just zip me up?” You asked again in the most sickly sweet voice and you feel his hands quickly tug in the zipper of your holiday dress.

Baby. That was new. Eddie fixated on the way the word fell off your lips. It was so sweet he could almost taste it.

"You ok?" You look over your shoulder to see a look in Eddie's eye you hadn't seen before.

Something primal had taken over Eddie. It was like he was entranced by you. He felt his hands run up the sides of your thighs and under your dress. Feeling how soft the stockings that encased your legs were. He ran his hands up higher and higher to where the waistband met the skin of your soft middle.

More goosebumps covered your body as Eddie didn't say a word while tracing your figure with his calloused fingers.

"Mmmm, Eddie," You softly moaned, filling the silent room with the most beautiful sounds Eddie had ever heard.

"Yeah, baby girl," he whispered as his soft lips grazed the same spot he had kissed a moment ago.

"We- we are going to be late." You stuttered.

"We are already late; we will blame it on the snow." You felt his hands brush the straps of your dress off your shoulders so it landed on the bedroom floor.

You stood there in just your bra, stockings and matching panties before you felt Eddie push you forward so you were bent over for him, your ass sticking out, so much so, that Eddie could see the outline of your thong as the thin material spread over your perfect ass.

Eddie bent down so he was at eye level with what he wanted. "Oh, baby," you hear Eddie whisper under his breath before placing a firm hand on each cheek. Moulding and massaging the muscle.

A small smack echoed in the quiet room when his hand came down and lightly hit your bottom, wanting to see it jiggle. You arched into the feeling. The Christmas party you were supposed to be getting ready for suddenly slipped your mind. The only thing consuming your thoughts was Eddie's strong hands on your body, and you wanted more.

"You like that baby girl? I can give you more. Just say the word." He hummed as he trailed a finger lightly down the seam of your pantyhose.

"Yes," it was small, but Eddie still heard it, allowing him to do what he's wanted since he met you.

You felt Eddie's lips graze over your covered pussy; you were already so wet it was seeping through the two thin layers of material that were covering what Eddie wanted most. His hot tongue licked a strip from your clit to your hole before humming into your centre.

"hmmm, I can already taste how ready you are for me…Tell me, baby, that's all for me? I did this to you?" he massaged his thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Yes," you breathy sigh as you push back into Eddie's hand to create more friction.

"Now tell Eddie what it is you want?" He sat up and kissed the bare skin of your back right above your waistband.

"Please touch me," you sighed.

"Sucha good girl; I think you made it on the nice list this year." He praised as he cupped your wet heat. "But after what I'm about to do to you, I think you'll be on Santa's naughty list for sure," He growled in your ear before his fingers hooked into your tights, ripping them open and exposing your bare ass.

"Eddie!" you scolded. Those were the only pair you had left without any runs in them.

Eddie ignored you as he hooked a finger around your thong, moving your panties to the side. He was so fixated on your wet cunt being centimetres away from him.

He could smell your heat radiating; it was intoxicating. He took in the picture-perfect sight in front of him. Wanting to memorize every detail. Your pussy was so pretty, he committed it to memory.

Eddie didn't waste another second before diving in. He ate you like a man starved. His warm, wet tongue had you crying out with pleasure as it grazed your inner lips, to your throbbing clit, and back down again.

"Fuck this is the sweetest pussy I've ever tasted," Eddie said before giving your ass another light smack. You moaned with pleasure. The sensation only made you wetter.

"Eddie, please," You panted.

"I don't know, naughty girls don't get presents." Eddie slowly massaged your clit with his index finger as he teased your hole with the tip of his thick thumb.

"No! I'm a good girl; I've been such a good girl." You protested. Your cunt was throbbing as it clenched down onto nothing.

Eddie stood back up, his body towered over you, and you felt his arm wrap around your chest to help you stand up straight.

"Eddie, wha-" you were cut off, being spun around and pushed back onto the bed, only this time on your back.

You could see the sheen of your slick coating Eddie's chin as he glared down at you.

You slowly spread open your legs while you move your panties to the side. You let Eddie take you in before circling your swollen clit with a manicured finger, hoping to taunt Eddie into giving you what you wanted. You wanted all of him.

With this new angle, you could now see how strained his cock was in his jeans; the looked so tight around his waist you knew he was dying for some release.

"This is mine" Eddie smacked your hand away from your clit before replacing it with his own. "This is my pussy." he repeated.

"Then take it." You command.

You hadn't seen Eddie move so fast since you had known him. His pants were down in half a second before leaning down and plunging into you, bare.

You both let out screams of pleasure as Eddie entered you. Your hot, wet cunt felt so good wrapped around Eddie's long thick cock. It was hitting places inside of you that you hadn't known existed. It was like it was made for you.

"Oh my god, Eddie!" you cried as his cock continuously brushed the walls of your cunt. Each stroke built that feeling in your lower tummy.

"Take it, baby girl, you're gonna take all of it." He gritted through his teeth. His eyes concentrated on where his cock was disappearing inside of you. The delicious feeling of your cunt wrapped around him was too good to be true. His dream girl, beneath him, looking so cute and fucked out just for him. It had him almost cumming in seconds.

"You're doing so well, baby, taking me so good, I'll have to give you your present. You want that?" He chides, cupping your face with one large hand.

You nod your head dumbly, getting lost in the feeling of Eddie's cock and words.

"Say it, baby girl." His thrusts were getting harder and deeper.

"I want my present." you pout. God you were so fucked out you didn’t even know what you were saying.

"Good, just gotta cum for me first, then I'll fill you up nice and good." Eddie leans down to kiss you for the first time. You moan into his mouth while his tongue slips inside, and his fingers find your clit again.

The coil that built up in your lower tummy finally snaps, and you clench down on Eddie's cock, making it so much tighter to keep thrusting into.

"Fuuuuuuuuck baby girl, that's it; keep cumming on my cock, and you'll be back on the nice list." Eddie's hips kept pounding your sensitive cunt, prolonging your orgasm.

Your body jerked and spasmed under Eddie's weight before he finally came inside you.

"That's it, sucha good girl, you deserved every last drop." he slowly ground his hips into you, pushing his seed all the way in before pulling out.

You moaned at the loss of him inside of you.

"Don't worry, baby girl. you'll still have me in you." He winked before helping you stand up. He put your thong back over your pussy lips and helped you discard your ruined stockings, before zipping it up your dress.

You look at the clock on your bedside table.

"Fuck we are so late!" you rush to grab your coat, giving yourself a once over in the hallway mirror. Shit. All that time running to fix your hair and makeup was wasted. You look thoroughly fucked out.

"Eddie!" You whine, trying to fix your smudged red lipstick as Eddie hugs you from behind, kissing up the side of your neck.

"Sorry, can't help it. Need everyone to know that you're mine." His hand grazed behind you and cupped your cunt again. Feeling his cum that had now pooled in your underwear.

“Ok, I'm ready.” You sigh as you turn. It was like he had you under his spell. Eddie smirked with pride as he opened the door for you, only to see an angry Robin standing outside your door.

"You said you would be ten minutes!" She yelled before storming back to the running car she had been waiting in for the past twenty minutes.

Shit. Busted.

Master list

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

A New Emissary

Formerly : They Mates - with Y/N Pt 4

Summary - Hybern’s a problem (but when is he not), and this whole Cauldron situation… Out. Of. Hand. Based on Ch 19 of ACOMAF

Notes/Other Warnings - ‘Vulgar gestures’, language, my grammar. As always lines/plot points directly or heavily inspired by the series itself. 1.4k words. 2nd pov again for a more intimate look into Y/N and Az’s relationship.

Part of The Shadowsinger and the Emissary Universe.

You stood with Azriel near the window in the sitting room of the townhouse. It was snowing lightly outside, dusting the outside world. Cassian lounged near the fire, next to Mor. He felt tense, like an animal waiting to jump out of its cage after spending too much time cooped up. Amren was not present—where she was, you did not know. You all were waiting for your High Lord and Feyre to return from their trip to the Bone Carver for information. 

As you watched the snow build up outside your mind wandered back to earlier that morning. Nearly five-hundred years Azriel had been your mate, and still every morning was utter bliss. You could still feel his teeth scraping lightly across the shell of your ear and his lips trailing—

“Amren’s right,” Rhysand said.

You snapped out of your thoughts to see him standing in the threshold. Feyre stood next to him.

“You are like dogs, waiting for me to return home. I ought to buy treats for the lot of you,” Rhys continued.

Cassian flipped him off, the tension in his system still evident. You stepped forward to smack Cassian’s shoulder. The general gave you a withering look. The High Lord of Night narrowed his eyes at the pair of you. You stepped back as Feyre, who looked chilled headed for the armchair near the hearth. You returned to your spot next to your mate who stood in contemplation, a constant for him.

“How’d it go,” Mor asked to quickly glance between Feyre and Rhys, who had finally stepped into the room. 

“The Bone Carver,” Rhys said with a sigh, “has too much time on his hands considering how often he likes to pry into others people’s business.”

You reached for Azriel’s hand, unsure of what to do in the moment. Your mate didn’t protest, his shadows swirling around your wrist for a few moments. You could see Feyre’s eyes dart to the sight. The mortal said nothing.

Cassian broke through the silence, his hands falling to brace his knees. “But…?”

“But, the busybody can be useful, when he chooses,” Rhys replied with another sigh. “He informed us that the Cauldron was originally hidden at the bottom of the frozen lake in Lapplund, but vanished a while ago. But three of the feet on which the Cauldron used to stand were cleaved from it, in an attempt for power. Each foot was hidden in a different temple.”

You didn’t exactly need Rhys to spell out the rest for you. People were after the Cauldron, after its power again. “Shit,” you murmured. Cassian, to your surprise said nothing, only sat up a bit straighter.

“Cesere, Sangravah, and Itica,” the high lord listed out. “The King of Hybern seeks to return the Cauldron to its full glory.”

It was a suspicion most everyone in the room had. You could sense the grimness of it all, the way the room shifted even though most were expecting it. You glanced to Mor who looked back at you, giving a well this isn’t good look. 

“The mortal queens have one part of the Book, Tarquin the other,” Rhys finished.

You sucked in a breath before Azriel stepped forward, his shadows lightening from around his form. “I will contact my sources in the Summer Court about the other half of the Book of Breathings on where it is hidden. I can aldo fly to the human world. See if I can locate their half before we ask them for it.”

The High Lord of Night shook his head. “I don’t trust this information, even with your sources, Azriel. Not anyone outside this room, except for Amren.”

“They can be trusted, Rhysand,” you defend as Azriel’s shadows grew thicker for a moment before lightening up. Az let go of your hand, fists curling slightly, staring at his high lord. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“I, we, are not taking risks where the Cauldron or the Book is concerned,” Rhys responded calmly. Rhys returned his spymaster’s stare. 

You reached for your mate’s hand, and his fingers slowly uncurled, eyes drifting away from Rhysand’s face and back to your own. You gently intertwined your fingers with his.

“So what do you have planned,” Mor asked. 

“Well,” Rhys responded as he picked at absolutely nothing on his leathers. A habit you had noticed he got when growing up. “The King of Hybern sacked one of our temples for a piece of the Cauldron, which, as far as I am concerned, is an act of war.”

“Of course he wants war,” You interjected more strongly than you had anticipated. “For the Mother’s sake we were an ally to the humans during…the War. He would never dare sway you at risk of revealing his plans.”

Cassian nodded in agreement before adding, “Amarantha’s cronies likely reported to him Under the Mountain.”

“Hybern and his forces successfully infiltrated our lands, without detection. I have every intention of returning the favor.” Your high lord straightened himself up slightly.

“How?” Mor asked, before you could. 

“We go to Hybern to bring the Cauldron back or go to nullify it.” 

You thought you might just laugh at that. “Hybern would already have countless wards to protect it.” 

You could feel Az’s thumb over the back of your hand, gently rubbing as if to try and ease some of the tension from your body. “Y/N’s right. We would need to find a way to get through them, undetected,” your mate added.

“Then we start, now while we hunt down the Book. We do it swiftly, so by the time we have both halves we can get through without word spreading quickly,” Rhys said like it was the simplest solution possible—the simplest task possible.

“And how qre you planning to retrieve the Book?” Cassian added.

“These objects are spelled to each high lord and can only be found using their power.”

You looked to Feyre, almost apologetically. Thrown into this life and world and she was being asked to find pieces of the Book of Breathings itself using powers she received because she died. A shuddering feeling went through you. As if in defense of the girl you looked at Rhys. “You don’t know that it will work.”

Rhys smiled slightly. “True—but there is a way to test it.”

“Mother’s tits! Here we go again,” Cassian grumbled from his place besides Mor. 

Your eyes danced over to your mate whose eyes had narrowed slightly, your fingers still intimately intertwined.

“With your abilities, Feyre ,” Rhys began, ignoring his Inner Circles words, “you might just might be able to find the half of the Book in the Summer Court. To be certain, to make sure when it counts, when we need it, when we need you, we’re going on another trip… see if you can find an object that I’ve been missing for quite some time.”

You let out another heavy sigh knowing exactly where this was going, Az still rubbing his thumb over your hand.

“Shit,” Mor groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“Where,” Feyre asked tremulously.

“The Weaver,” Azriel responded. His thumb stoped rubbing your hand. 

“Who is the Weaver,” the new fae asked.

“An ancient and wicked creature,” Azriel responded with a sharp exhale, that tickled the back of your ear. “Who should remain unbothered,” thr spymaster shot in Rhysand’s direction.

Rhys pushed on. “I want to see of Feyre can identify the object amongst the Weaver’s trove.”

“Oh! By the Cauldron!!” Mor exclaimed. You couldn’t disagree with her.

“The Weaver,” Feyre began to press, “the Bone Carver. Can you just call someone by a name?”

You let out a soft chuckle with a slight angling of your head. She had a point. Something in the sound your momenary joy eased the shadowsinger. 

“What about adding another name to that list?” Rhysand asked Feyre who had finally seemed to warm up.

A few grumbles sounded about the room, including your own.

“Emissary,” Rhys said ignoring the room. “For the human realm,” Rhys clarified, looking to you as if ensuring you weren’t about to be fired from your position.

Good, Azriel thought to himself. You needn’t make any more travels than you were doing at present as Rhysand’s emissary in every other aspect. One less place for you to be caught in something dangerous. One less thing to pull you from his arms in the morning, and leave half of the bed empty at night. Truth was, even after nearly five-hundred years together, all he wanted to do was lay in bed with you and never leave the comfort of your embrace. Too bad the world had other plans.

Taglist: @lilah-asteria, @5onedirection5, @emryb, @azrielrot

[sokkadora]

something there — mizu x fem!spider-woman!reader

summary: landing in a new place, and time, leads to new experiences and friends… and a hot samurai?

a/n: mizu having a thing for competence and her s/o’s being capable of handling themselves babygirl i got that you want me!!!

wc: 1.6k

warning(s): injuries, mentions of gunshot wound, passing out from blood loss yippee!!!

ALSO REMINDER THAT MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN SO FEEL FREE TO ASK!! <3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

︿︿︿︿︿︿ ✎ᝰ . . . .

Your eyes shot open, the sudden cold chill of the snow beneath you shocked you into a sitting position. You ripped off your mask and panted, taking in your new surroundings.

You were still in your suit, which explained why you were so cold, but you were also in the middle of a dark forest. The snow seemed to cool the burning from the gunshot wound in your shoulder and the cut across your thigh, but it didn’t distract you from your entirely new surroundings.

The last thing you remember was being in New York, fighting some gang members who had stolen an artifact from the Sanctum Sanctorum… you’d taken a gunshot to the shoulder, which… ow. But anyway, you must’ve been thrown out of New York into… wherever you were now.

Shivering, you shakily got to your feet and steadied yourself against a tree. You needed to find warmer clothes, fast. You pulled the hood from your suit over your head and your mask back on for the sake of preserving body heat.

You attempted to be stealthily while stepping through the forest, not knowing what wild animals or people could in the darkness lingering beyond your eyes grasp.

After about 5 minutes of walking, you figured it would be better to scale up a tree to get some lay of the land. Maybe a city’s lights nearby to give you an idea of how far you hade to go until you reached some sign of civilization.

Placing your hand onto your eye level with the tree, you easily pulled yourself up and began scaling the tree. It took a minute to maneuver through all the branches with your injuries but upon reaching the top, you noticed a small clearing in the trees that was dimly lit, and you let out a sigh of relief.

After getting down, you corrected your course and started trekking towards your new destination. It took longer than expected because your injuries were slowing you down, but you webbed them up and continued over.

These people were sure to help you, you’re a well known super-hero. Spider-Woman, and if you were still around the vicinity of New York you should be alright…

Right?

It took until daybreak to reach your destination, you figured it would, but that didn’t make you pleased with how long you took.

Your hands were shaking profusely from the cold, and you were beginning to wish that you let Peter put the heater into your suit for days like this.

You heard rustling from a few yards ahead and scaled up the tree closest to you, your head spinning from the blood loss. You grunted softly, beginning to leap from branch to branch to get closer to the noise.

Finally, you made it a few trees away from the source, and were surprised to see a man dressed in… what looked like a chef uniform. You squinted behind your mask, watching as he cut off plants with the knife strapped to his wrist, since he didn’t have any hands.

You were about to get down yourself and approach him, but a nap just sounded… so… nice…

Ringo jumped at the sudden loud thud behind him, his humming being interrupted by a sudden gasp as he whipped around. He gulped nervously before rushing behind a tree, and peeking out from it.

He saw a figure laying motionless in the snow, that seemed to be non threatening, but the attire they donned was bizarre. Skin tight, covered their whole body… what were they?

Ringo cautiously held his knife out while stepping out from behind the tree and making his way to the body.

Were they already dead?

He gulped as he kneeled in front of the person, now clearly seeing that they’re a woman, nudging them with the arm not armed with a knife. After waiting a few more moments to confirm they were really passed out, he bit down on the dull side of his knife and placed it into his pack. He noticed the wound on their shoulder and thigh, along with smaller cuts through the clothing along the arms and torso. He carefully picked the limp body up, and began to carry them back to camp.

He knew Mizu wasn’t going to be thrilled with this new person joining, neither would Taigen, but they’d have to deal with it. He wasn’t going to leave a random woman out in the woods to die.

Upon arriving to camp, he noticed Taigen on the other side of the abandoned shrine writing something down on a piece of paper. Ringo slipped into the house from the far side to carry the body to the room Mizu was resting in.

He lowered the woman onto his futon, pulling the blanket up to just below her chin. He pulled off your mask successfully after a few attempts, and was shocked by your appearance. Mizu wasn’t in the room, but just as he was about to go looking, she stepped into the room.

Mizu’s gaze immediately fell to the figure on Ringo’s futon, a prominent frown taking place.

“Master, just listen-“

“Ringo, I can’t have anymore strays tagging along on this,” Mizu scolded, brushing past him to step over to you. Her anger paused quickly as she noticed how different you looked from them. “Who is..”

“I don’t know,” Ringo replied, stepping onto the other side of you and kneeling down, peeling off the blanket to reveal your injuries and strange clothing. Her eyes widened. “I was going to come find you to stitch up her wounds. I don’t want to encroach on her privacy since she’s a girl.”

Mizu sighed, her eyes shutting tightly. She was reluctant to do so at all, seeing as she doesn’t know you, and your attire was setting off alarm bells in her head. But she agreed, and Ringo took off his medical supplies and handed it to her before wandering off to make the medicine for when you woke up.

Your first meeting with Mizu after waking up was… interesting. She certainly didn’t act warm towards you, with her threatening you with a sword to the throat as soon as you sat up.

But after traveling with her since leaving Taigen behind, you’d began to slowly grow closer to her; more attached. She was distant at first, but slowly warmed up to you after finding yourselves in the same position.

Now, you found yourselves sparring in the middle of the woods before you hit another town the next day.

Mizu wanted to test out your spider sense; she had been intrigued by your powers since she’d first found out about them, wanting to test the limits of them, but not wanting to harm you on accident. She didn’t know how skilled you were yet.

She stood behind you and tied the blindfold over your eyes gently, making sure not to get your hair caught in the knot. She resisted the urge to let her hands wander across your taut shoulder muscles, not yet being willing to openly admire your looks.

“Alright, you’re set,” Mizu said, patting the top of your head before moving to stand a few yards in front of you from where you stood in the center of the clearing.

“If I get hurt, I’m gonna punch you,” You warn playfully, biting back a grin as you heard the sharp sound of Mizu’s sword unsheathing. You could practically feel her smirk as you remained still, but alert.

“Good thing I know what I’m doing then,” She rasped, making you swallow thickly.

The was lingering tension in the air as you heard Mizu’s footsteps go to the left, your enhanced sense cluing you in to her minuscule movements as you took a deep breath.

Before you could really tell with your own perception, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. Mizu had swung her sword skillfully at you from behind, barely grazing the hair flying from your braid as you ducked into a lunge, sliding away.

She huffed, impressed. And continued to slowly taunt you with her attacks, which you quickly dodged each time. Eventually she had sheathed her sword and began using her arms and legs to kick and swing, until you ended up pinning her against the ground, your thighs on either side of her waist.

You quickly brought your hands to her wrists, pinning them against the ground and smirking as you heard her grunting underneath you. After a moment of struggling, she groaned but you knew she enjoyed the round.

“You win, god,” She chuckled lowly. You released her wrists and tugged the blindfold off, grinning down at her.

“Not so bad, huh?” You smiled, raising an eyebrow at her as she let her hands fall onto your thighs.

“Not at all,” She returned the smile, trying her hardest to hide the warmth growing between her thighs at the thought and demonstration of your capabilities. “Is it… hot out here?”

You pursed your lips before laughing, getting off her waist. “Mizu, it’s snowing outside.” You scoffed playfully, rising to your feet.

She hummed bashfully, taking your hand when you offered to tug her back to her feet. She gazed down at you softly as you brushed off your haori, smiling proudly once it was rid of the frozen mud and snow flecks.

She couldn’t help but feel her gaze soften almost inevitably as she let herself lovingly look at you for a moment while you were distracted.

Reaching down, she softly touched the braid that was slung over your left shoulder, admiring your (h/c) hair gently. You looked down at her hand, eyes wide before you tilted your head up to look at her face.

Her eyes moved back to meet yours, and you forced the fluttering feeling in your stomach away with a smile.

“Round two?”

[theweepingangelofcas]

Hi can you do one with William and Sherlock (Moriarty The Patriot) meeting and later falling in love with a female pickpocket reader? The reader meets William/Sherlock after the reader steals their wallets. And maybe put a part where the reader gets into a bit of trouble and William/Sherlock saves them.

Idk if you've ever played Skyrim, but you can be a thief/pickpocket in that game. In my cringey middle school years, I wrote SO MUCH FANFIC about thieves and pickpockets omfg-

So yeah, I might be a little overqualified to write this lol. I just wrote for Sherlock for now, but hopefully William's will come along soon.

*******************

PickPocket - Moriarty the Patriot x Reader

Sherlock Holmes

To put it plainly, you were a good thief.

Really, really good.

It was rare you messed up your goals. After all, that meant going without money for food. Messing up a job meant that you would go hungry until you did it right again.

That was why, on that cold December day, you were so desperate to succeed in getting a single wallet that day.

You had fucked up. Your last job had left you injured, unable to sneak around in the way you needed to. You had been caught by the police, thrown into one of their carraiges... It's a miracle you'd been able to escape. The handcuffs they'd strapped you with were good, but your ability of breaking your own thumb to slip out of them was apparently better. But, that left you with a problem. You had a bounty on your head, a broken thumb, a rather nasty cut on your leg, and not a cent to your name. Anyone in your situation would've been desperate. There had been so few people out today. The weather was cold, snow falling in sheets from the clouds. The few people who passed you were obviously just as bad off as you were, vagrants who just needed a break. You didn't have the heart to take from them. That was why, when that tall man appeared, you jumped at the opportunity. But with cracked hands, and a broken thumb, it was no wonder you messed this up too. The wallet was in your hand, but his eyes were already on you, his strong hand reaching out for yours. You did the only thing you could think of.

You clasped the wallet to your chest, and ran. With the cut on your leg, it felt near impossible to get to a good speed, but you managed well enough. He had been hot on your tail for a long while now, and you were getting tired. The cobblestone street was wreaking havoc on your poor feet, and you could feel your stamina running low with each pound of your shoes hitting the ground. Your eyes looked around frantically, searching for anything that could help you, until- Aha! A different man, standing in the street. You could make out that he wasn't one of the vagrants that frequented this area, so maybe, just maybe, you could get him to help you. You released a chilling cry, calling out, "SOMEBODY! Please! Help! This man, this man, he's trying to hurt me!" You pointed hysterically to your victim, turning back to scream some more, before you collapsed into the other man, your savior, and you were both knocked to the ground. You continued to act like a damsel in distress, not even looking at the new person as you cried, "Oh thank you. Please, please help me, he's trying to-"

"Y/n L/n, right?" You finally looked at your supposed savior. Oh no. The shiny police badge was obvious now that you were close to him. "That man over there, he's-" "Trying to get his wallet back, I suppose?" The cop gestured to the leather in your hands. You could run again. You could try. But with your victim catching up to you, a police officer within mere inches of you, and your exhausted body, you knew it would be futile. "Did she steal your wallet, sir?" You couldn't even look up from the ground as the officer spoke. He'd say yes, and you'd be carted off to jail, too weak to fight- "What? God, no!" An exasperated voice raised you from your thoughts. Your victim. His hair was in a disheveled ponytail, his plain dress clothes crinkled, but he didn't look angry. No, if anything, he looked excited. "I- Excuse me?" The officer scoffed. The man nodded, "My good friend and I were just playing a good old game of keep away. She always plays so dirty with it." He mocked a frown, before chuckling, "Come on, let's go back home."

The cop hesitated, his grip on your arm tightening, "Sir, this is a wanted criminal." The man cocked an eyebrow, "So? Here, this might change your mind. And tell Lestrade to stop locking so many innocent people up. It looks bad for the Yard." The man pulled out an ID, showing it to him. Sherlock Holmes. The officer dropped his arm, "Fine. Have her. When she robs your house, don't come crying to me." The officer walked off, leaving you two alone. You had ended up in the middle of a shopping district, cold and in the dark. Where on Earth had you run to? Sherlock chuckled, "You can keep the wallet." You looked down at the leather in your hands. Opening it, there was nothing inside. "You ever hear of a group called the Baker Street Irregulars?"

[callsign-rogueone]

nothing burns like the cold - r.g.

what's supposed to be an ordinary afternoon sparring with your friend goes wrong in an unexpected way. words: 1.4k 🏷: one incredibly mild Iron Flame spoiler (Ridoc's signet), she/her reader, very brief description of friendly sparring, no real physical injury, nothing too bad... both of you have Feelings and need to talk about them, Ridoc being sad deserves it's own warning, wingwoman Violet to the rescue! this can be read as a standalone or you can consider it a way-back prequel to hey roomie, my poly Ridoc/Sawyer/reader fic (more of that trio coming soon, by the way!)

Ridoc’s fist lands against your ribs, and you don’t know how to describe what happens, other than cold. Coldest shower of your life, bucket of ice water over your head, jumped into the river in late December cold, that shocks your senses and has you crumpling to the mat beneath you.

Your friends gasp, at your side in an instant.

You’re indoors, but your shirt is soaked like you’ve been out in the rain for twenty minutes, and your hair is dusted with… snow? You blink the wet flakes from your eyelashes, stunned.

Rhiannon helps you to your feet, and you wrap your arms around yourself, shivering.

Sawyer removes his flight jacket, draping it over your shoulders. The fabric is warm with his body heat, but it doesn’t do much to fight the chill you feel around your heart; the way the wet material of your clothes clings to your skin.

“I’m so sorry,” Ridoc breathes. “I had no idea that was going to happen.”

You still haven’t said a word, your entire body trembling — you’re in shock, unable to process your friend’s words.

“Get her into dry clothes,” Bodhi instructs quietly. “She should be fine in a few hours.”

Rhiannon nods, leading you out of the gym and toward your room.

Ridoc stares at his hands, at the frost that still coats his fingertips. You should be fine? Gods, what had he done?

Now he knows how Sawyer felt when his metal-bending signet manifested and he nearly skewered his sparring partner. But that’s the operative word — nearly. He’d definitely hit you with… whatever this is.

“You’re an ice wielder,” Dain answers before the boy can ask, dry and straightforward as always. “Professor Carr can explain.” He takes a few steps toward the door, realizing that Ridoc isn't following him; the younger boy is still stuck in place, silent.

“She’ll be okay,” Violet promises, touching a hand to his arm.

Sawyer offers some encouragement as well: “She knows you didn’t mean it.”

That’s not what he’s worried about.

————————————————

You aren’t at dinner that night, nor at evening formation; he doesn’t see you until breakfast the next day.

Your heart aches as he takes a seat clear across the table from you, as far away as he can be.

Violet comes to sit at your side instead, not mentioning yesterday’s events, but she gives you a soft smile that says I’m glad you’re okay.

You return it, though it doesn't feel as genuine as hers— the cold feeling is long gone, but it’s been replaced with something else that feels just as terrible.

You push the feeling down, waving Sawyer over to sit at your other side and extending him his flight jacket with a soft smile. “Thank you. That was really sweet of you.”

“Of course,” he says, reddening slightly as he puts it back on. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he quiets when he sees you glance at the other end of the table, deflating when you realize Ridoc is already gone.

Ridoc continues keeping his distance. You stand between Rhiannon and Sawyer at morning formation, and sit with them during Battle Brief, Ridoc at the end of your row, uncharacteristically silent.

You don’t see him that afternoon; you haven’t manifested a signet yet, so you aren’t attending Professor Carr’s class. You choose to sit in the study room instead, a textbook in front of you that you hardly touch; you can’t bring yourself to focus.

It’s getting dark out before dinner these days, the winter solstice approaching quickly. It’s supposed to freeze tonight, you’d heard someone say this morning. How ironic.

You sigh, curling up in the chair and tucking your legs to your chest, trying again to start the reading you’d been assigned.

“Mind if I join you?” Violet asks, a matching book of her own in her hand.

You smile softly, gesturing to the chair opposite you.

She sits, but doesn’t take out a pen or paper. “Don’t take it personally,” she says quietly, being mindful of the few other students across the room. “It really spooked him when… that happened. I think he’s afraid he’ll hurt you -- or someone else -- again if he gets too close.”

You’re silent for a moment, your chest aching at the idea of Ridoc, warm, happy, confident Ridoc being afraid, feeling guilty over what had happened by pure accident.

“I talked to him, but I think he needs to hear it from you,” she says gently, opening her book and starting to read, ending the conversation there.

You gaze down at the text, not reading the words -- instead thinking of what you could say to him to make him feel better, to get him back into your life again.

“The truth,” your dragon suggests. “The whole truth.”

————————————————

As soon as Sawyer sees you, he knows what you’re here to do. He excuses himself quietly, mumbling something about forgetting his book upstairs before he shoves everything into his bag and practically bolting away — not subtle at all.

Ridoc blinks in confusion, looking up to ask his friend what the hell that was, but he falls silent when he sees you.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

You could nearly cry at the sound of his voice as he responds, speaking to you for the first time in two days. “Hi.”

You pause, just looking at him for a moment. He looks like he hasn’t slept well for a few nights, his usually vibrant curls and glowing skin flat and dulled. A few of his cuticles are bleeding — he must have been picking at them as a nervous habit.

It hurts you to see him like this.

“You can do this,” she encourages. “Speak from the heart.”

From the heart, you say to yourself. It should be easy enough to say the things you’ve wanted to tell him for weeks.

He speaks before you can, but remains seated, making no move toward you. “I’m so sorry,” he says quietly. “I know saying it won’t change anything, but I really am sorry.”

You smile at him softly. “It’s okay. I’m fine, really. I slept it right off.”

You’d looked and felt so cold yesterday, but here you are, healthy and smiling, not mad at all.

“I’m still sorry. It was an accident, but if I had hit any harder, or hit you somewhere else, I don’t know…” he chews his lip, clearly still upset. “It scared the crap out of me, seeing you like that.”

You slide into the seat next to him and take his hand gently, interlocking your fingers. The warmth of your skin comforts him — that, and the fact you’re still willing to touch him after the other day, when that same hand had nearly frozen you to death.

“I never want that to happen again, especially not to you,” he says softly, gazing at your hands. “I really like you, you know.”

“You like everyone,” you say, not quite following. “That’s your whole deal. You’re easily the most likeable and easygoing guy in the quadrant.”

He cracks a smile, and you feel every ounce of stress melt from your shoulders at the sight of him happy again. “I’m glad you think so, but that's not what I meant.”

Your breath catches. Is he saying what you think he’s saying? He can’t be.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

You blink at him once, twice, letting out a shocked laugh.

His face falls, and he pulls back, starting to gather his things from the table. “Forget it.”

“No, hey, I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you,” you say quickly, reaching for his hand again. “I was laughing because I came here to say the same thing. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, too.”

“Really?” he breathes, starry-eyed.

“Really,” you confirm. “I have been for a while.”

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, maybe a little too eagerly.

You smile. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

His lips are on yours before you can blink, soft and plush and perfect. He lifts his other hand, settling it on your waist ever-so-gently, stroking over the slightly tender spot in your ribs in a silent apology. The warmth of his palm against your side soothes the ache, relaxing you completely.

He pulls back after a moment, gazing at you softly.

“I think I’m more than pretty sure after that,” you breathe, stunned.

It’s his turn to laugh as he presses another soft kiss to your lips. “Me too, princess. Me too.”

[eroscomet]

Echoes of the Past

Chapter one- The Unexpected Hour

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Paring: Wednesday Addams X Fem!OC

Context: During her winter break, Wednesday Addams notices a strange girl entering the empty house next door, claiming it as her own. Intrigued, Wednesday confronts her, only to uncover eerie inconsistencies in the girl's story that hint at something far beyond the ordinary. As the girl’s strange familiarity with the house clashes with Wednesday’s reality, a chilling mystery unfolds, leaving Wednesday to question what forces might be at play.

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Word count: 2.3k+

A/N: Hey lovelies, it has been a while since I have been active. I made a different post somewhat explaining why. I am back though and ready to write! While I was gone, I got more ideas of different stories! Let me know what you guys think! This will definitely be a series and I hope you guys like where this one goes. I think this will be a bit of a slow burn.

Not proof read

╰┈➤Series Masterlist

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Nevermore had gone on their Christmas break, meaning Wednesday was back home in the Addams' manor with her family. The original Addams manor was known to be alone atop a hill, secluded from all those who were anywhere near normal. Alas, Gomez and Morticia felt that it was time for a scenery change, so they had moved when Wednesday was about ten years old, long before she had been sent to Nevermore.

This manor was just as brooding and perfect for the family. They had accommodated to the home quickly as their last. They familiarized themselves with their neighbors, though they wanted nothing to do with the strange family. All but their neighbors next door, the Walters. They were an old couple who didn't know much about what was going on around them half of the time. This made them almost as strange to the neighborhood as the Addams. The Addams were most friendly to the Walters over the years as they had been just as kind to them since the beginning. 

Wednesday found that winter break was the perfect time to catch up on her writing, especially since her family knows not to bother her during this writing time. She spends her time in her room using her typewriter to finish her novel. Feeling like she could never finish it at Nevermore due to Enid's constant need to express herself on the form. Whether it be music, talking, inviting people over to their dorm, or gossiping, Wednesday had found it exceedingly difficult to focus on her work.

Again, like any other day, she was writing. She always had her desk in front of her window to peer out every once in a while. As she was typing away on her typewriter today, something had caught her eye. A girl? Wearing odd clothing that seemed far too old-fashioned for these times. Wearing a white collared shirt that seemed to be a button-up shirt, a black tie with a v-neck dark green colored jumper, a pair of black pleated pants, accompanied by a pair of black boots, and a black leather jacket. 

The girl wiped her hands on her trousers as if she had just jumped the fence that guarded Walter's home. Her boots made a trail of shoe prints in the snow, almost as if she had come out of the woods behind the home. Wednesday, never in her time in the neighborhood, had seen or heard of the Walters having a daughter. They had only ever said they never had children and couldn't have them even if they wanted. Given that, the Walters were out on a Christmas vacation, and they had been for over a week now. 

They don't have any pets that need tending to... Then who was this? A vandal? A thief? Is someone coming to rob the poor old couple's home? Wednesday's thoughts were cut off by the girl reaching the opening in the backdoor that seemingly was left unlocked by the couple. Just then, the girl had disappeared into the home, out of visible sight from Wednesday's window.

Her curiosity had been piqued, who was this girl? More than that, what was her purpose in breaking into her family's dear friend's home? Wednesday stopped her writing, closing the lid to her typewriter. Taking another glance out the window to the new 'character' in Walter's residence, narrowing her gaze as she did her best to get a good look at the girl.She glared out the window with her arms crossed while she debated whether or not she ought to investigate.

Her curiosity had gotten the better of her in the end, and after a good moment of thought, she decided to pay the girl a 'visit' next door. Grabbing a coat and slipping out of her bedroom as well as out the manor's back door. As she walked across the snowy grass and swiftly exited the Addam's family manor's backyard through the gate. Her footprints followed behind her on the snow as she followed the girl's footsteps past Walter's back gate. 

"This better be good.." Wednesday had grumbled under her breath as she neared the backdoor of Walter's home.

Surprisingly, when she had turned the knob. The door opened without a hitch. She didn't waste any more time as she walked right in, closing the door behind her. The girl was in the kitchen, back turned from the backdoor, which she didn't realize she left unlocked when she entered. The footprints of her boots on the door's mat. Her eyes had been scanning the kitchen, brows knitted together in a confused state.

"Quite the trespasser, aren't you?" Wednesday's voice broke through the silence of the house. She had taken slow and measured steps toward the girl, a smirk on her face.

The girl had acted quickly, as she heard Wednesday speak up, her hand reaching to grab a knife that was slid inside ofthe rack. She turned around quickly to face Wednesday.

"No, what are you doing in my home?" She said defensively as she pointed the knife towards Wednesday's direction, her eyes scanning over the brooding girl's figure.

Wednesday's eyes flickered down to the knife in the mysterious girl's hand, but she didn't make any effort to back away. Instead, she leaned against the nearest counter, folding her arms over her chest and tilting her head to the side with her usually daunting smirk,

"Your home? Don't be ridiculous, you're a burglar."

"This is my home! I just came back from a walk through the woods!" She had said back defensively as she shook her head.

"Look, my other pair of shoes are right by the door!" The hand that held the knife pointed at the kitchen's doorway, nothing there. Her eyes had been trained on Wednesday, not noticing that her shoes weren't there.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to pull, but they're not there. Do you expect me to believe you somehow teleported into your own home, unannounced? No, you're a thief," The Addam's girl said as she pushed herself off the counter, taking a step closer.

The other girl's expression hardened as she looked over by the kitchen doorway, realizing that her shoes weren't there.

"What the..? They were just here!" She said in confusion as she stared at where she knew her shoes had once been.

Wednesday couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as she continued to watch the girl look around the kitchen in confusion.

"So... What? Are you claiming that that just vanished into thin air? That's impossible, you and I both know it."

"I live here, I'm telling you!" She replied as she shook her head, putting the knife back into the rack before speaking again,

"Look, if this isn't my house, then how would I know that the living room has a dark green rug and black leather furniture?" She crossed her arms, leaving the kitchen and entering the living room where the rug was instead a red and gold color with an old design, along with brown furniture that wasn't leather.

"What..?" She said in confusion as she looked at the living room. She slowly stepped forward, looking at the living room in utter confusion and shock.

Wednesday, who had followed her into the living room, not far behind her with her arms folded across her chest. A dry laugh that sounded almost like a scoff escaped Wednesday, her suspicions slowly being confirmed.

"I knew it. You're a trespasser, and you're a very bad one at that. No good thief would make such a stupid mistake."

"What the..." The girl had muttered out breathlessly, unable to focus on the words leaving Wednesday's mouth. All she could focus on was the living room that had drastically changed for her. Her eyes searched every inch of the living room.

"Where's my mom's lamp and painting? It was just...here....and so was my father's wrenches that my mom begged for him to put away.." She said as she eyed the coffee table and the room. Her eyes landed on the flat-screened television in the home.

"What the hell is this?" Her hand reached out and continuously pressed on the screen as if something was going tohappen.

The Addam's girl only watched quietly as the girl paced the room, more amused with every second that passed. As the girl looked at the television and tried to interact with it, Wednesday had to bite back a chuckle.

"That's a television... Surely even you know what a television is. What, are from the 1800's?"

"What? Where's the RCA CTC-11? My dad worked overtime just to afford it for the family.." The mysterious girl said as she ran her hand across the television's screen, watching as her hand left a trail across the screen. Her eyebrows only knitted together further into confusion.

"We could never afford something like this.."

"RCA? The television you speak of is very outdated, especially when we have this." Wednesday replied. The girl's confusion was a bit strange, and Wednesday was growing more curious by the second. She could hear the slight hint of disbelief in the girl's voice as her hand had retracted from the television.

"What? How could the RCA be outdated when it's 1964 and the television just came out in 61'? That doesn't make any sense." She said so confidently as if it were true, looking at Wednesday as if she were in the wrong.

Wednesday's eyes had slightly widened for a brief moment, her mouth agape in disbelief. 1964? No, something was wrong with this girl, and the more she spoke, the more Wednesday was beginning to understand. She paused for a moment as if processing the information she just received.

"..1964? You're sure of that?"

"Yes!" The girl exclaimed, looking at Wednesday as if she were crazy, "I was just here! My family was just here!"

"And what year were you born in?" She asked as her eyes darted over the girl's face, searching for any sign of deceit or a hint that she may be lying. But there was nothing. The girl was confused, and she firmly believed what she was saying. Wednesday's curiosity peaked again.

"1947? Why?" The mysterious girl had said in confusion, "Are you the new neighbors or what?" 

"No, I'm not a recent neighbor. We've been living right next door for quite some time now.."

"What? Surely I would have known of you?" Her eyes scanned the brooding girl's figure before returning to her face, "This feels like someone is pulling on my leg. Where did everything go then"

"This is going to sound like a strange question, but just humor me for a minute," Wednesday said as she followed the girl into the kitchen, keeping a few feet of distance between them. "What's your name?"

"Alex Davis- Well, Alexandra, but I always hate when people call me my full name. My family bought this house in 1951." Alex muttered as her hands ran over the new counters, she was utterly confused.

"Alex Davis.." Wednesday repeated to herself as she searched her mind for any remembrance of the name but nothing came to mind, "How old are you, currently?"

"I'm seventeen?" Alex said as she looked out the kitchen window over to the Addams' manor, eyeing it for a moment. "Huh, someone painted the witch's nest. Looks newer than before.."

"I was only gone for a couple of hours." She added as she continued to look at the manor. Wednesday's eyes darted across the girl's body and clothing, taking in every detail. She couldn't recall a time when she had seen someone around here wearing anything like this, let alone someone her age. It was outdated and began to confirm her thoughts.

"A couple of hours. How much time do you usually take on your walks?"

"I don't. I had an argument with my parents and ran out from the back gate and into the woods. Just to cool off for a couple of hours..and now I come back and everything is...gone, replaced.." Alex muttered her eyes darting down at the sink, trying to wrap her head around everything.

"Everything has been replaced?" The Addam's girl repeated as her mind began racing with potential answers for the situation: time travel, magic, a dream. It all sounded unreal but she knew that one thing was for sure, Alex was being genuine.

"This is my house, but everything is just...replaced." Walking back over to the living room once again, reaching down to grab the photo frame on the coffee table. The photo consisted of an old couple, The Walter's, but she hadn't recognized them.

"You're certain you don't know them...? You sure you didn't just run into a different house?" Wednesday asked, her voice still monotone now with a more serious tone to her voice. 

"This is my house!" Alex said now more urgently as she shook her head, her hands now balling up into fists at her sides. 

She quickly began walking upstairs, walking down the hallway, and opening every door. She opened the door that once led to her little sister's room, which was once painted with pink walls, now has grey walls and is an empty guest room. Shaking her head, she angrily walked over to her parent's room, opening the door and only finding, once again, differently painted walls, and now the bedroom belonged to the old couple she saw in the picture downstairs. 

She shook her head again, walking further down the hall to the restroom and slamming the door open. It was also differently painted and looked as if it was an entirely different bathroom. She walked backward, her back hitting the hallway wall as her head began spinning. Her family was no longer there. 

Her mind raced with all kinds of thoughts: Where did they go? Did they leave her behind? Were her parents so upset with her and the argument that they left without saying a word? If so, then why is everything so different all of a sudden? How did these people buy her home and quickly renovate it?

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[persephoneflowerpetals]

‘Til Death

Chapter 11: Last Chance

Chapter 10: Three Little Words

Chapter 12: Hostile Takeover

Two days. 

That’s how long Hades had left before he’d lose his powers. His flaming hair was alarmingly shorter than it was before, and (despite the fact that gods couldn’t get sick) he was starting to feel many flu-like symptoms such as chills, fatigue, and dizziness.

The god considered himself lucky to have had enough power to intimidate his exes like he did during his confrontation with them. Though his emotional outburst wasn’t as explosive and fiery as it usually was, it was enough to make Minthe and Leuke talk.

Hades was exhausted, to say the least. Blowing up at his exes consumed a lot of his power, and it really wore him out. As soon as he returned to the Underworld, he went straight for his throne and practically threw himself into it. He spent the rest of that evening there on his throne, contemplating. Not only did he need a plan to get Persephone back, but he needed to find a way to propose to her in such a fantastically romantic way that she’d agree to marry him after taking him back.

He silently cursed himself for waiting so long to propose. Hades had certainly planned on proposing to Persephone at the last minute, as proposing too soon would mean risking rejection and his relationship with her, but he wasn’t planning on waiting until the very last minute. Though, if Hades had it his way, he’d probably wait another year or two before popping the question, but unfortunately, he was on a time limit, and his time was running out fast.

Fortunately, Hades was the type of god that always had something up his sleeve, so it wasn’t too terribly difficult for him to come up with a good plan. Was it going to be risky? Yes, very. Was it going to work? He had no idea, but he loved Persephone with every ounce of his being, and he was going to make sure she knew it. He made a solemn vow to himself that night on his throne that he’d never make Persephone think twice about his love for her ever again.

~X~X~X~X~

After a rather short night’s sleep, Hades woke up the next day, ready to put “Operation: Last Chance Romance” (as he liked to call it) into action. At this point, he only had until tomorrow at sundown to get Persephone to marry him. He needed this plan to work. Everything was on the line.

Hades ended up tracking Persephone down at a little glade in Argos, doing her usual planting and defrosting of the lands. He hid behind a large oak tree as he watched her from afar, melting the frost and snow from the ground and trees.

She waved her hands in a broad, slow-sweeping motion around the small area of the glade, using her powers to turn the lifeless brown grass a bright and brilliant green before directing her attention back to the trees. With a flick of her wrist, the bare trees sprouted big, beautiful leaves and sweet-smelling fruit blossoms from their branches. 

Hades loved watching her work. He admired the way she could easily turn the cold and frozen earth into a warm and vibrant oasis, and he adored the focused look on her face as she grew colorful flowers and plants from the ground, making sure they looked positively perfect for the season. 

As much as he wanted to stand there all day watching her, he had to go talk to her; he couldn’t afford to waste too much time.

While Persephone had her back turned away from him, he took the opportunity to come out from behind the tree and reveal himself. He crossed his arms and smiled, “Hey, Rosebud.”

Persephone jumped in surprise as she quickly turned around to face him. “Hades!” She gasped, her expression immediately going from surprised to disgruntled and annoyed as she turned back around.

“What do you want?” She asked, her voice laced with bitterness.

“I just wanna—“ Hades was then cut off by the sound of galloping hooves approaching at full speed. Next thing he knew, Thallo was right in front of him, huffing and pointing her sharp horn right at his face.

“Woah! Woah! Hey-ya!” He exclaimed as he threw his hands up in defense.

Persephone glanced back at the scene, unbothered. Her immediate instinct was to go over and stop Thallo from poking his eye out, but she was still pretty upset with him, so instead, she just shook her head and rolled her eyes as she went back to tending to the land. 

“Go away, Hades.” She demanded.

Hades craned his neck back to avoid the unicorn’s horn as he tried to lean his head to the side to look over at Persephone. 

“Look, I just wanna talk to you for a minute, and then I’m outta your hair, okay? Just—can ya—can ya call off the royal steed, please? C’mon.” He asked.

Persephone sighed and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the small voice in the back of her head saying "This is a bad idea! Just ignore him and walk away!". Reluctantly, she turned around and approached the god and the unicorn.

“It’s alright, Thallo. I’ll take it from here.” She softly assured the unicorn as she petted her mane.

Thallo was hesitant to back down and stomped her hoof as she moved her horn closer to Hades, who was now craning his head back as far as he could. Persephone smiled as she continued to pet her mane in attempts to calm her down a bit. 

“Go on. It’s okay. I’ll be alright.” She reassured her.

The unicorn glanced at Persephone before looking back at Hades and snorting. She then slowly backed away from Hades and turned around to go graze in the glade while still remaining vigilant and wary of the fiery blue stranger. 

Hades adjusted his chiton as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Sheesh. What’s the deal with Seabiscuit over there, huh? She didn’t get her oats this morning?” He asked, gesturing to the unicorn across the glade.

Persephone ignored his sarcastic and witty questions as she gave him a stern look. “I’m really busy, Hades. Just tell me what you want so I can get back to work.”

Hades sighed quietly, his expression becoming more soft and solemn as he looked into her eyes. “Look, I…I know why you left me, and I came back because I needed you to know…that I love you too. Really and truly, babe.”

He gently took her hands in his, just as he did before they broke up, desperately hoping that she could see that his words were sincere.

Persephone was expressionless, unsure of how to feel as a mix of emotions came rushing to her all at once from what he had just said. Her initial reaction was delight. She’s been waiting for months to hear him say that! However, the fact that it took him this long to say those words back to her made her very upset.

She pulled her hands away from Hades, and looked at him with a hurt expression. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She asked.

“Because I…” 

The god looked at the ground for a moment as if the right words he was searching for were somehow etched into the soil beneath him. He looked back up at Persephone, seeing the hurt and the pain he had caused her, and that alone was all the motivation he needed to speak from his heart.

Giving her an apologetic expression, he continued, "I loved you way before the night you kissed me…and I guess I was just so caught up in loving you and finally knowing that you loved me back that I just…I never realized I forgot to tell you…But you gotta believe me when I tell you that I really did love you when we were together…and I still do.” Hades gently cupped her cheek as he looked deep into her eyes, practically pleading for her forgiveness. 

“I’m really sorry, Persephone.”

She believed him. The god was a master at charming and schmoozing his way into getting what he wanted, but she could tell that there was not one hint of deception or dishonesty in his words. Though, despite all of this, she was still very hesitant to accept his apology. He may not have meant to, but he really hurt her. She couldn’t just forgive him so quickly after breaking her heart, even if it wasn’t intentional.

Persephone reached up to remove his hand from her cheek. “Well, it’s a little too late for ‘sorry’ now.” She told him as she turned to walk away from him.

Hades sighed and followed suit. “Hey, look, I know I screwed up big time, okay? I can admit that. Not even the gods are perfect. You know that better than anyone.” He said as Persephone stopped in her tracks.

He was right. He wasn’t perfect…and neither was she. No matter how hard she tried to be the perfect goddess everyone made her out to be, to please everyone and meet their expectations...she wasn't perfect.

They may be divine entities that mortals worship and adore, but they’re not flawless. They make mistakes just like everyone else. Even Zeus has made a mistake once or twice.

She never expected Hades to be perfect, and he never expected her to be perfect either…because their imperfections were what they loved about each other the most. All Persephone wanted was to hear that she was loved, to have the reassurance that Hades cared for her as much as she did for him, and Hades had made the mistake of forgetting to tell her. Not because he didn’t, but because he did. Always.

The goddess made her way towards a large magnolia tree she had recently defrosted and blossomed, hiding behind the large trunk to escape Hades’ line of sight for a moment. The god slowly approached her from behind before leaning on the side of the tree trunk, peeking his head over to catch a glimpse of her.

“All I ask is that you give me another chance. Let me make it up to you with one more date. Tonight. When you’re done for the day, I’ll take you out, and I’ll show you the most romantic night of your immortal life, and hey, if ya still hate me after that, then fine. Boom. I’m gone. I’ll leave you alone, and you’ll never hear from me again.” Hades suggested as he came around to fully meet her behind the tree.

Persephone turned to face him, unsure of whether she should accept his offer or not. “I… I don’t know…” She replied hesitantly as she looked down at the ground.

Hades gently brushed her bangs back so he could get a better look at her beautiful face. “C’mon, babe. Just one last chance. That’s all I’m askin’ for.”

The goddess looked up at him for a moment before looking back down again. If she said yes, was she going to regret it? Once again, she secretly wished that someone could just tell her the right choice to make.

“Please, Seph…Do you want me to beg? Because I’ll do anything to get you to say yes, alright? So, if beggin’ on my hands and knees is what it takes, I'll do it.” Hades playfully pleaded, trying to lighten the mood a little in order to ease both his and her anxiety.

“Hades…” Persephone lightly chuckled as she watched Hades crouch down to get on his hands and knees.

“Look! See! Here, I’m gettin’ on my—"

Persephone chuckled a little louder and grabbed Hades’ arms to pull him up before he could completely touch the ground, slightly amused that he was willing to make such a fool of himself for her. “Okay! Alright…I’ll give you one last chance.”

Hades smiled with delight as he pointed at her. “Great! I promise you’re not gonna regret it, babe.” He assured her as he watched her smile as well.

He then gazed at her for a moment, adoring her cute little smile before slowly leaning in for a kiss. Persephone quickly placed two fingers over his lips to stop his face from coming any closer to hers as she gave him a slightly annoyed look.

“Too soon?” He asked, his speech muffled a bit by her fingers still on his lips.

“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded.

“Right. Yeah, my bad.” 

~X~X~X~X~

Once evening finally hit, and Artemis shot the bright and beautiful moon up into the night sky with her arrow, Hades made his way to the gates of the Underworld, where Pain and Panic were finishing setting up everything for his big date with Persephone.

“Here?” Pain asked tiredly as he pushed a large and heavy vase filled with wet soil and a mixed bouquet of deadly nightshade and forget-me-nots near the gates while huffing and puffing and struggling to catch his breath.

“Hmm, a little more to the left.” Panic responded as he stood in front of Pain and the large vase, trying to envision where the plant would look best.

Pain continued pushing the vase with a strained grunt before Panic spoke up. 

“No, no! My left! Not your left!”

The round imp glared at his friend as he threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “Well, you could’ve told me that instead of just standing there!” He snapped.

“I’m not just standing here!“ Panic declared before he and Pain began to bicker amongst themselves.

Hades, who had been watching all of this unamused, rolled his eyes and grabbed the imps by their long, pointed tails, holding them upside down as he gave them an annoyed scowl.

“Alright, listen, you knuckleheads! I am not gonna put up with any of your idiotic nonsense! This is an extremely important night for me, and if you two screw this up, I am gonna rip your heads off and mount them on my wall, then feed the remains to Cerberus! Do I make myself clear?!"

The imps gulped before replying in unison, “Crystal, sir.” 

“Great, so what are you two gonna be tonight?” Hades asked with a fake smile.

“Err, quiet and out of the way?” Pain guessed anxiously as he and Panic tensed up in anticipation of some form of bodily harm.

“Bingo.” Hades replied as he let go of their tails; both imps quickly shapeshifting into a pair of fish as they flopped around on the ground.

Hades then looked up at the night sky, observing the position of the moon. “It’s getting late. I gotta go pick up Persephone.” He said as he made his way over to his gryphon-led chariot that was waiting for him not too far away.

Normally, Hades would’ve just manifested himself to Persephone, but seeing as how he had very little power left, he thought it’d be best not to push his luck. He also thought a nice little chariot ride across the starry sky would score him some “romantic bonus points” with Persephone.

Hades stepped onto the chariot and grabbed the reins as Pain and Panic, now back in their original imp form, wandered up to him with eager smiles.

“Don’t worry, boss!” Pain assured Hades as he gave him a thumbs up, “We got everything under control!”

“Yeah, we promise this date is gonna go off without a hitch! No problemo!” Panic cheerfully added.

Hades just rolled his eyes before pulling on the reins and taking off into the night sky as Pain and Panic waved at him from below.

“He didn’t buy that, did he?” Panic asked quietly with a smile plastered on his face as he continued to wave.

“Nope.”

~X~X~X~X~

Persephone sighed as she looked up at the sky, sitting on the stone bench of her temple garden once again. The sun had set, and the moon and stars were now the only source of light in the small floral oasis (when they weren’t being covered up by the clouds drifting by).

Hades had promised to meet her at her temple that evening for their big date. The goddess repetitively tapped her fingers on the bench to release some of her nervous energy as she anxiously waited for Hades to arrive.

“I really hope I’m making the right decision here.” She thought to herself as she watched the skies, wondering if Hades would show up by chariot…or even show up at all.

Suddenly, a chariot came into view through a group of clouds. Persephone stood from the bench as she watched Hades land his monster head-shaped chariot in front of her as his griffon that led the chariot let out a loud shriek.

Hades exited the chariot while casually surveying the area with that signature smirk of his. Persephone watched as he approached a row of tall, white marble columns that supported the roof of her temple. Spiral vines of small, light pink flowers wrapped around each pillar, the brilliant white of the marble bringing out the beautiful and delicate shades of light pink.

“Wow, nice temple ya got here. It’s…pretty.”

Persephone raised her brow and smiled a little, unsure of whether that was meant to be a genuine compliment or a playful jab at her taste in decor. “Not as nice as yours, I’m sure.” She said while crossing her arms.

“Hey, nobody’s temple can compare to 'temple de la Hades', okay? It’s got everything a god could ever want in a place of mortal worship. Genuine black marble architecture, finely crafted torches that would make Hephaestus jealous, and a monumental, and very handsome, statue of yours truly.” Hades replied with a cocky grin.

Persephone rolled her eyes and smiled as she shook her head. 

“But, I gotta say…” Hades said as he too crossed his arms and leaned against the marble column, “…yours is by far the most impressive I’ve ever seen. In fact, I think it actually knocks mine outta first place.”

A brief look of surprise flashed across Persephone’s face, as she was expecting more of a sarcastic and arrogant comment rather than a sweet and charming sentiment. She gave him a small smile and looked away.

“Thanks.” She said quietly as she brushed some of her hair behind her ear.

Hades smiled before promptly making his way over to her. “So, whaddya say we take to the skies, huh? Your chariot awaits, mademoiselle.” He proposed as he offered her his hand while gesturing to the chariot with the other. Persephone’s small smile grew slightly as she took his hand, letting him guide her into the chariot.

“I’ll be honest with you, it’s been a while since I’ve ridden in a chari-OT!” Persephone yelped as the griffon quickly took off from the ground and back into the sky. She immediately clung onto Hades’ side, trying to keep her balance as they flew through the warm spring air.

Hades smirked with amusement as he looked down at Persephone’s slightly terrified expression. He then commanded the griffon to fly up higher past the clouds where the moon and stars shone so wonderfully bright.

After a few moments, Persephone, now feeling a little more calm and grounded in the chariot, let go of Hades as she looked around the sky. She was completely entranced by the beauty of the night, stepping closer to the edge of the chariot to carefully look down. Glimpses of the earth below passed by through the small gaps and holes of the clouds beneath the chariot. They were very high up in the air now, but Persephone wasn’t scared. She never really was one to fear heights (despite being so thrown off by the chariot taking flight just moments before), but knowing that Hades was there by her side certainly made her feel a lot safer to be at such a high altitude.

The goddess smiled as she reached her arm out of the chariot to scoop up a chunk of fluffy white clouds into her hand. She then took the handful of clouds into both of her hands to relish the feeling of it.

Believe it or not, fresh clouds (like the ones you see in the sky every day) felt a bit different from the clouds that made up Mount Olympus. Both were soft and fluffy, of course, but the clouds in the sky had such a natural smoothness and airiness to them that was just so pleasing to the touch. There’s a reason why mortals compare things such as pillows and blankets to the clouds.

Persephone giggled before blowing the chunk of fluffy clouds out of her hands, watching it float away in the breeze like foamy bubbles. Hades watched her with a soft, adoring expression as he continued steering the chariot, now approaching a flock of geese flying in formation.

Hades steered the chariot to the side, the flock now on Persephone’s side of the chariot, as they flew at the same speed. Persephone grinned and gently petted the head of the goose leading the flock, who gave a happy little honk at her kind and gentle gesture. 

The chariot then began to speed up as they neared their destination. Hades used the reins to steer the gryphon downwards as they made a smooth landing on a mountain trail that led to the gates of the Underworld. 

Hades stepped out of the chariot first so he could take Persephone’s hand to help her out (though she didn’t really need any assistance; Hades just wanted to be a gentleman…and find another excuse to hold her hand).

“So, what did you have planned for tonight? An evening nature hike?” Persephone asked playfully as she and Hades made their way up the trail side by side.

“Nah, you’ll see.” Hades answered with a wink.

Soon, the pair reached the gates where a beautiful scene awaited them. Tall black lanterns lit up the surrounding area as two large and quite beautiful vases (that Pan had painstakingly moved around) filled with nightshade and forget-me-nots sat on each side of the gate.

Across the gates sat a round table, overlooking the golden grassy hills below that looked so ethereal under the glowing light of the full moon. The table was adorned with a black tablecloth and two dark-colored marble chairs on opposite sides of the table. Atop the tablecloth sat 2 sets of plates, elegant black-colored silverware, scarlet-colored cloth napkins, and a pair of dark-colored goblets that looked very similar to the ones Hades had used during their first picnic together; however, these goblets looked much more elegant. 

Right in the middle of the ornate table sat a black candelabra burning brightly, the fire’s glow making the whole setup look ever so enchanting.

“Ba-boom. A romantic candlelit dinner for two.” Hades said as he presented her with the stunning display.

Persephone was astounded by all of the decor. She couldn’t believe that Hades had taken the time and effort to create such a gorgeous site just for her (even though Pain and Panic did most of the work).

“Wow!” She gasped quietly in amazement as she took in the scenery. “It’s beautiful, Hades. You’ve really outdone yourself.”

Hades smiled and shrugged. “Hey, it was nothin’.” He humbly replied as he led her over to the table, pulling out her chair before taking a seat.

As soon as the two were seated, Pain and Panic came out, wearing white togas and laurel wreaths on their heads in order to look more “fancy” for the occasion. Pain held two covered silver platters, being extra careful not to trip and drop them as Panic held a pitcher of nectar. Pain then placed the platters on the table in front of the deities as Panic took their goblets and filled them with the nectar. 

“My Lord and Lady, your dinner is served.” Pain announced, trying to sound very formal and refined as he lifted the covers of the platters to reveal their delicious meal: chicken giouvetsi (Greek chicken and pasta).

“Bon appétit.” Panic said as he and Pain bowed to the gods before backing away and out of sight.

“Looks good. I love chicken.” Persephone remarked with a smile as she observed the dish.

“I know. I remember. You told me that on our first date.” Hades told her as he smiled back and picked up his goblet to take a sip of nectar.

“So, it was a date. I thought it was just ‘eating and talking.’” Persephone said while picking up her fork.

“Of course it was a date! I just didn’t call it a date at the time because I didn’t know if you were into me, and I didn’t wanna scare ya off.” Hades admitted.

Persephone gave a small smile before taking a small bite of the food. Her eyes immediately lit up as she looked at Hades. “Oh, wow. This is amazing!” She gushed as she went for another bite.

“Yeah, it’s my mom’s recipe.” Hades told her with a smile as he took a bite from his own plate.

Persephone stopped chewing for a moment and froze. “Wait, your mom made this?” She asked in disbelief, covering her mouth as she spoke.

“Well, I made it, actually. I just followed her recipe.” Hades said as he continued eating.

“I didn’t know you could cook.” Persephone said, glancing up at Hades for a quick second.

“Yeah, my ma taught me everything I know about cooking. Obviously, my forte is grilling and roasting, but I know how to make a good home-cooked meal too, y’know? I’ll admit, I’m not much of a baker, though. I’ve burned just about every pastry I’ve ever made. It’s crazy. I can roast a pig, but I can’t bake a bundt.” Hades confessed.

Persephone giggled softly. “Funny, I'm the total opposite. I’m great at baking things, but when it comes to cooking…it literally turns to ashes in your mouth.” She revealed.

Hades chuckled at the irony as he picked up his goblet once again to take another sip of nectar. “I guess we’ll have to give each other some culinary lessons then, huh?”

Persephone giggled in response as she continued eating. She then glanced up at Hades once more and noticed how short and weak his hair looked. She couldn’t exactly put her finger on it, but something about him just didn’t seem right.

“Are you okay?” She asked gently as she looked at him with a bit of concern.

Hades gave her a confused look as he put his goblet back down on the table. “Yeah. Why?” He asked with a chuckle.

“You just look…tired….and your hair is kinda…shorter. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He gave her a reassuring grin as he replied, “Trust me, babe. I’m fine. Never felt better.”

Persephone looked at him skeptically before resuming her meal. She could tell he was lying, but she didn’t want to press him further on the subject, so she dropped it altogether.

~X~X~X~X~

Back in the depths of the Underworld, Hecate stood over an enchanted dark cauldron, her winged minions Canis and Lupus by her side as they watched Hades and Persephone’s dinner date play out through the water’s reflection.

“Awww, isn’t that cute? Poor Hades thinks he still has a chance.” Hecate mocked in feigned pity before letting out an evil cackle. She then manifested a sand dial into her hand, the top half nearly empty as the sand continued to endlessly fall to the bottom.

“How pitiful. The god really believes he can get her to marry him with a tacky and cliché candlelit dinner after that messy breakup.” Canis remarked with a toothy grin.

“Imagine being in that much denial over your fate. It’s sad, really. I can’t bear to watch!” Lupus agreed as he dramatically turned his head away from the cauldron and covered his eyes with his large paw. “Pass the popcorn.”

“In less than 24 hours the Underworld will be in my control. Finally, I’ll be getting what I deserve after all these centuries of blind obedience to that pathetic excuse for a god!” Hecate proclaimed as she watched the sand in the hourglass fall.

“In fact…” Hecate thought aloud as she looked back at the cauldron, “I think the Underworld is already as good as mine.”

Hecate’s lips curled into a cat-like grin as she promptly manifested the hourglass away in a cloud of thick, indigo smoke. “Come along, boys! I believe it's time I get an early start on claiming this domain as my own.” Hecate called out to the pair of empusa who eagerly followed her into the darkness.

~X~X~X~X~

Once Hades and Persephone had finished their meal, they were treated to a lovely dessert (that Hades had fortunately bought from a bakery) of galaktoboureko (a custard-filled filo pie), which was a dessert Persephone was very fond of. The couple idly chatted as they ate their confectionery treat until Hades noticed a bit of custard on Persephone’s face, right in between the corner of her mouth and nose. It looked as if she hadn’t even noticed the spot, as she was happily enjoying her dessert.

She looked up for a moment and caught Hades' fond stare that made her feel both flattered and slightly self-conscious.

“What?” She asked with a small chuckle as she raised her brow.

Hades chuckled as well and pointed to his face, trying to mirror where the custard was on her face. “You, uh, got a little schmutz there.”

Persephone’s face flushed rosy red with embarrassment as she frantically searched for the cloth napkin she had forgotten she placed on her lap.

“Oh, sorry! I-I’ve, um, always been such a messy eater. It’s a bad habit of mine.” She confessed.

“It’s okay.” Hades assured her as he grabbed his own napkin from the table. He then stood from his chair a bit and leaned over the table to get closer to her. “I got it.” He said, placing one hand gently under her chin as he wiped her face with the other, admiring her beautiful pastel pink skin and that adorable round face of hers. 

Persephone froze as she let Hades wipe the custard off of her face, watching his calm and focused amber-colored eyes as he did so. Their eyes met as Hades lowered the napkin away from her face, his other hand still softly caressing her chin. 

Persephone started to feel the familiar fluttery feeling in her stomach again. The same feeling she had when she was first falling in love with Hades as she found herself completely entranced by his gaze.

“Has anyone ever told you how…gorgeous your eyes look under the moonlight?” Hades asked with an affectionate smile.

Persephone began to blush even more, her cheeks now a bright, rosy red as she smiled, her eyes still fixed on Hades’. “Not until now.” She quietly replied.

Pain and Panic, who had been watching the couple from the sidelines, looked at each other with a delighted grin. They gave each other a wink before grabbing a harp and a flute, playing a slow little tune to enhance the mood. Hades and Persephone glanced at the imps for a brief moment before looking back at each other. 

“May I have this dance?” Hades asked with a chivalrous grin as he stood up straight and took his hand away from her chin, now offering it to her to hold. 

Persephone glanced at his hand, then back to his face as she nervously brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I, um…I’m honestly not much of a dancer. I’ve kinda got two left feet.”

Hades smirked and walked over to the side of the table, tilting his head to the side to try and catch a glimpse of Persephone’s legs that were slightly hidden under the table. “I dunno. Your feet look pretty normal to me.” He joked with a playful smirk and a shrug.

Persephone softly chuckled as she shyly looked away from him. Hades moved a bit closer to her and offered his hand once more in hopes that she would take it. She hesitated, nervously shifting glances between his warm, anticipated smile and his open hand.

“C’mon, you’ll be fine. Just trust me.” Hades reassured her, trying to ease her obvious anxiety.

Persephone looked back down at his hand one last time before taking a short, quiet breath. She gently placed her hand in his and rose from her seat. as Hades guided her over to a spacious area near the Underworld gates where Pain and Panic were still playing the music.

He tried not to laugh as he watched her try to nervously figure out where she should put her hands so they could dance, looking almost lost, like the dancing was a foreign concept to her. She obviously didn't get asked to dance very much, and Hades found that to be quite a shame.

"Seriously, who wouldn't wanna dance with someone as gorgeous as her?" He thought to himself.

He then proceeded to guide one of Persephone’s arms to his shoulder as the other continued to hold her hand. Then, he placed his hand on her side as she looked up at him, with uncertainty, but Hades just kept his adoring gaze fixed on her as he confidently began to lead her into a slow waltz.

Persephone’s body was tense and stiff as she followed Hades’ lead, worried that she could ruin everything if she let herself move even an inch. She looked down at watching her steps to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally trod on his feet.

Hades let out a soft chuckle as he watched Persephone dance so cautiously, finding it so sweet and adorable that she was trying to be so careful. He removed his hand from her side for a beat to lift her head up by her chin in an attempt to adjust her focus on him rather than her feet.

He gave her a sentimental smile as their eyes met yet again, and at that moment, Persephone immediately felt all of her anxieties melt away as the tight muscles in her arms and legs started to loosen up and relax. Her thoughts were no longer burdened by the idea of stepping on Hades’ feet or making a fool of herself in front of him.

The longer they danced, the more comfortable Persephone became. She smiled and giggled as Hades would spin her around or dip her. Eventually, she started getting closer and closer to Hades until her arms were around his neck, the couple tenderly gazing at each other face to face.

It was as if nothing else in the cosmos mattered anymore, and they were the only 2 beings on the Earth. Neither of them wanted this moment to end. All they wanted was to be there with each other, holding each other close as they swayed under the moon and the stars; their eyes remained completely fixed on the other's.

Hades, his expression as tender and loving as Persephone has ever seen it, leaned in closer, their lips just barely meeting as he whispered to her slowly and softly, his eyes still locked with hers.

“I love you.” 

Both Hades and Persephone simultaneously closed the small gap between them as they shared a sweet kiss. 

They separated for a moment, looking into each other's eyes once again, sharing an enchanted, love-struck expression.

“I love you too.” Persephone whispered back with a dreamy smile as she rested her head in the crook of his neck.

~X~X~X~X~

Hades and Persephone had eventually found themselves underneath a beautiful blooming dogwood tree that rested further up on the mountain past the gates. It seemed the view from that particular spot was even more picturesque than before as tiny fireflies danced around in the distance of the golden peaks.

Hades lovingly held Persephone close as they quietly looked out at the scenic landscape together, enjoying the sounds of the nocturnal wildlife and chirping crickets.

Hades looked down at the divine pink goddess in his arms as his fond smile grew wider. Never did he think that he could ever experience a love like this…like hers, but there he was: holding the gorgeous goddess of spring in his arms. A goddess that despised him months ago and was merely a pawn in his elaborate scheme, now the love of his immortal life and the only deity in the cosmos that truly knew him for who he was.

“Y’know, somethin’?” Hades said, breaking the comfortable silence.

Persephone looked up at him with a wistful smile. “Hmm?”

“I think I gotta be the luckiest god in the cosmos to have someone as gorgeous, and brilliant, and…utterly magnificent as you around. I swear, ever since I met you, you’ve turned my entire Underworld upside down…in a good way, of course.” 

Persephone’s smile grew as she listened to him speak, his words making her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Hades stopped holding her for a moment to reach into his himation to reveal the golden daffodil he had planted for her when they first met, still thriving and glowing just as bright as it had the day she picked it from the flower field. She gasped softly as her eyes lit up. She took the flower as Hades handed it to her, holding it delicately in her hands.

“The daffodil…you…you kept it after all this time?”

He nodded with a kind and gentle smile, “Yeah.” 

Persephone continued admiring the enchanted as she lightly brushed her fingers atop the soft golden petals. Hades took a short, silent breath as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Listen, there’s uh…there’s somethin’ important I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now...”

Persephone looked up from the flower, giving him her full attention. Hades glanced at the ground for a second, trying to work up the courage to say what he needed to say.

“I, uh…I know this is really sudden…and we haven’t been together for very long, but…honestly, babe…I just can’t see myself without you. I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re so different from all those jerks up there on Olympus. You’re the only goddess in the entire cosmos that truly…gets me, y’know?”

Persephone smiled as she listened intently, holding the daffodil close to her chest while Hades continued to speak.

“I can’t get enough of ya, babe. I love everything about you. That adorable little smile, those sparkling eyes of yours that I always find myself getting lost in, your cherubic voice…the way your cheeks get all red and blush-y when I compliment you. The list goes on and on, babe. We’ll be here for days if I keep goin'.”

Persephone giggled bashfully as she looked away. He gently brushed her bangs to the side as he continued to speak, “You’re all I’ve ever wanted and more…You’re everything to me. I love you, Persephone…and I just wanna keep loving you for the rest of eternity.”

Hades knelt to the ground as he gently took Persephone’s hand in his. Persephone’s mouth opened slightly as she realized what was going on, keeping the daffodil close to her chest in her clenched hand while Hades lovingly gazed up at her.

“Persephone…will you marry me?”

Persephone was speechless; her mind raced. All she could do was stare at him as he patiently (and anxiously) awaited her answer. 

Hades really wasn’t kidding when he said this was “kinda sudden”. She wasn’t expecting this at all. This was such a huge decision. She was truly at a loss for words and unsure of what to do or say. So many questions and uncertainties crossed her mind at that moment.

Was she ready for this? For marriage? For Hades? He just recently gained back her love and trust in him, but did she love and trust him enough to spend the rest of eternity with him as his wife? Would she be making a colossal mistake if she agreed to marry him? 

Sure, Hades was a wonderful and clearly devoted boyfriend, but would he be the same if he became her husband? Would he be the same god he is now? Would they be able to function as a married couple, or did they only work better as boyfriend and girlfriend…or even just friends?

Again, she had secretly wished that someone could tell her what to do, as she was so used to having someone speak for her, to guide and direct her decisions because they knew what was best for her. However, this was not the kind of decision someone could make for her. Only she could decide what was best for her, and this was exactly the kind of freedom she wanted. To be able to make big decisions like this without someone else’s say. She just wished that this wasn’t such a difficult decision to make.

Persephone looked deeply into Hades’ eyes, searching for the right answer. Searching for even just a single hint of doubt that he loved her, that his words were nothing but a string of lies, that he didn’t really want to devote his entire immortal life to loving her and only her…but she couldn’t. All she could see in those amber eyes of his was love.

Pure, true love and devotion for her.

She realized then that there really was no reason for her to believe that he didn’t love her back. He came back for her. He created such a magical and beautiful night for the two of them…for her. He finally told her that he loves her and everything that was on his heart. Now, here he was on bended knee, asking for her hand in marriage, never wanting to lose her again. Hades, the Lord of the Dead and God of the Underworld, was asking her to become his wife and eternal love.

He truly loved her…and she truly loved him. She never stopped loving him…and she never will.

There was only one sure answer she had for him. Tears began to form in the corner of her eyes as she opened her mouth to reply, her voice soft and quivering as she spoke.

“Yes.”

Persephone smiled as the tears in her eyes began to overflow and fall down her rosy cheeks, watching as Hades’ eyes lit up with joy. “Yes!” She happily wept with a nod, confidently confirming her answer.

Hades let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding and grinned as he stood from the ground to hold Persephone close. She quickly leaned in to kiss him lovingly and passionately as she held his face. Hades returned her kiss as he wrapped his arms around her waist, taking in every second of this wonderful moment.

“Y’know, you really had me goin’ there for a minute.” Hades chuckled after breaking their kiss.

Persephone chuckled as she sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, trying (and failing) to stop crying. Hades wiped a tear away from her cheek with his thumb as he looked at her affectionately.

“I assume those are tears of joy and not tears of instant regret, right?” He joked.

Persephone laughed and continued to sniffle as she cuddled into his chest, still holding on to the daffodil.

“Yes, I promise. Definitely tears of joy.”

[percyjavksongf]

𝐈𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬.•☆

➤𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐳 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➤𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏’𝟓𝟏𝟐

➤𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐛𝐡, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐚𝐟

all you could feel was warmth, a delightfully cozy knitted blanket was tucked firmly around you and your pillow was slightly lumpy. Your eyes fluttered open and took their time adjusting to your surroundings, you peered down and noticed your pillow wasn’t a pillow at all, but Leo’s camo jacket folded up under your head, he must’ve noticed you drifting off before you had even realised.

You scanned the cabin for the man in question and quickly spotted him sitting hunched over by his work desk, the sheen layer of sweat reflecting off the dying fire that accompanied him. You watched him quietly, not wanting to break his concentration from whatever new project he had come up with while in your slumber.

Your eyes fell once again onto the glowing fireplace, this was Leo’s first winter at camp and thankfully he had been enjoying himself so far, you know from experience that some campers find the holidays to be a solemn time but you had been keen on making sure Leo enjoyed his first winter and didn’t fall into the seasonal depression that was easily obtained, you weren’t judging of course, if you didn’t have Leo by your side you’d be dealing with it.

Your gaze shifted back over to Leo, who, despite the snow that was pounding against the exterior of the cabin, was only dressed in his white tank top and cargo pants, you were always jealous of his inability to feel the cold, his body did always seem to run warmer than anyone else’s at camp.

You watched as he wrote quickly on his oil stained notepad, throwing it aside to continue at the practical work needed for his latest idea, you smiled against Leo’s jacket and continued to watch his every move, taking this opportunity to admire all the ways his personality shone through, the bouncing of his left leg when he was really concentrated, the way his dark hair curled around his ears and fell against his eyes, you always adored his curls, each strand adorned a beautiful golden hue from the dime fire in front of him, those curls of his also always seemed to have a mind of their own. His dark eyes were concentrated and sharply focused on his work, his face flushed slightly from the heat of the room and every minute or so he’d use his free, non oily hand to push his curls out of his field of view.

You didn’t know how long you’d been watching for, but Leo had you in such a dream like trance that you didn’t really mind, you had finally started to feel the chill of the room kissing intensely against your exposed skin through the holes of the knitted blanket, you shifted as quietly as you could in the blanket in an attempt to warm up but after a minute of this you gave up, deciding to sit up from your current position.

You looked over and noticed Leo had moved in his seat and was sitting with his back towards you, seemingly unaware of your movement, he always got like this when he was invested in his work, a bomb could go off outside and he wouldn’t hear a thing. You let your sock cladded feet hit the cool wooden floor and walked softly towards him, the blanket long forgotten. Once you reached his hunched frame you wrapped your arms around him and rested your chin on his exposed shoulder, you felt his jump slightly beneath you before settling, relaxing under your touch

“sorry, did I wake you?” his voice was laced with exhaustion and you shook your head no

“nah, just got cold and thought I’d come see what my human heater was up too” you felt the smile that spread against his face when his cheek pressed against your temple, Leo pushed his chair back and beckoned you to sit in his lap, which you did so without protest. Once you sat comfortably with you side pressed against his chest, he wrapped his arms around you to keep you from slipping away.

You looked outside again and noticed the snow was calming now, you were glad that they let the outside weather enter camp sometimes, you knew it would look like a dream outside tomorrow morning.

“we’re gonna build the best snowman tomorrow” you sigh happily

“obviously” Leo grins. You huff at the thought of having to make your way back to your cabin in the snow, it was pretty to look at in the warmth of Leo’s cabin but actually having to go out into it? You’re sure you’d get lost.

“cielo? Whats wrong?” you feel his hand come up to mess with your hair, running his fingers through and brushing against your now warm cheek.

“just thinking about having to track through that snow, you might have to go collect my frozen body tomorrow morning” your dramatics earn you an eye roll and a pinch to your side,

“hey!”

“you really think I’d make you walk back to your cabin in that weather? Cariño I never thought you’d think so little of me” the kiss pressed to the top of your head confirms that you’re not going anywhere tonight, you grabbed Leo’s free hand and inspect his fingers, oil covered and slightly scratched as always, you tutted and grabbed the pack of wipes you left on Leo’s worktop a couple of days ago, cleaning the oil off gently, ignoring Leo’s protests on how you didn’t need to do that for him

“i’m not sharing a bed with you if you’re all greasy” you laughed at the false offence Leo displayed at your objections

“fine, fine, I’ll get cleaned up and you make yourself comfortable”

you jump off Leo’s lap and make your way to the makeshift bed, dragging it closer to the fire and plopping yourself down on it, burrowing yourself into the soft wool blanket. You hear Leo come back into the room and peak up from under the sheets, blushing under Leo’s curiously intense gaze

“you ok in there?” he calls out as if you’re gone far away, you imagine how silly you must look to a man that’s never needed to swaddle himself for warmth and you laugh at the idea of it.

“I’m cold”

“that’s what I’m here for” he says boastfully before sliding himself beside you, if the heat is too much for him he doesn’t mention it.

Your hands find each other and you let yourself enjoy the feeling of his body next to yours, you both lay on your sides staring at each other for awhile, making each other laugh with lame jokes and recapping the best parts of the day before. The longer you laid beside Leo the more you knew he was the person you wanted to lay beside forever, it just felt so natural with him, no need to put up a front or act like everything was always ok, because being demigods meant that there were hard times, tearful goodbyes and painful memories, but its easier to deal with the hardships with someone like Leo by your side, you know from the bits he’s told you of his life before finding out he was the son of a god that he didn’t have it easy, but he made it through. Being a demigod means being a survivor, being viewed as determined, skilled and strong, but theres strength in numbers, being with Leo made you stronger, and the same can be said for him.

You didn’t notice the silence that had taken over the two of you, the feeling of Leo’s fingers brushing hair out of your eyes brings you back to the present, blinking up at him, you notice the softness in his dark eyes, his fingers dragging down your face and to resting against your cheek and neck.

“you know I’ll always look after you, right?” you furrow your brows at the confession, and Leo smiles that soft sort of smile, like when someone knows a secret that you don’t.

“I know” you whisper back, “i’ll always look after you too”.

Leo leans forward and presses his warms lips to your forehead, shuffling closer to you and bringing the blanket closer to you, not that you really needed it anymore. You let your tired eyes drift back to the window, the snow had finally stopped, leaving behind frosted windows and what you guessed was a foot of snow outside waiting for the eager campers tomorrow morning, you smile at the thought of everyone getting a snow day, no fear of monsters and prophecies, just teenagers being teenagers. You press your nose into the side of Leo’s neck and revel in the feeling of Leo’s hand drawing patterns on your back, you let your thoughts drift back to your conversation minutes prior, in this moment you knew that you were done for, not that you didn’t succumb by choice.

I’ll always look after you.

a/n: hola bitches, this ie sorter then i usually do but i wanted some sweet Leo stuff asap. Hope yous liked it!! Ik it isnt lik fanon Leo where hes super flirty and all but i lik sleepy sweet Leo. Anyways i hqve more Percy Jackson stuff coming so stay tuned ❤️🤭

[darkshadow90]

Art the Clown: Reader Calls 911

Summary: You wake up to get a glass of water and hear snow crunching outside. You see a very scary looking clown, he notices you, and you immediately call police for help. It doesn’t end well.

A/N: Hey guys. A little something different this time around. I came across a Character called Art the clown. He’s from the Terrifier movies. I haven’t seen any of the movies, but I’ve seen clips of Art. He’s so fucking scary but can also be funny. I have to give props to his actor. Art never says a word, but his facial expressions and his gestures communicate so much. He’s a silent character with so much to say. The actor gave him so much personality. Anyway, I got an idea for a one shot in which the reader wakes up to get a drink and hears snow crunching outside. She notices Art outside her front door. He notices her, and feeling very uneasy she immediately calls 911. It doesn’t end well. I apologize if Art is out of character. I hope you still enjoy the one shot 🙂 Warnings: Art being creepy, implied death of reader but nothing specific. I’m leaving that up to your imagination.

It was a cold winter day. You woke up from an afternoon nap. Still drunk from sleep, you went to the kitchen to grab something to drink. As you were walking back to your room, you stopped in your tracks as you heard snow crunching outside. You turned to your front door and froze at what you saw. Standing outside your front door was a clown. He had a small black hat on his head. He was wearing a black and white clown suit. His face was panted white. His eyes and lips had black paint around them. That wasn’t the most unsettling part, though. As he turned his head toward the little windows on the side of the door, he noticed you, smiled at you and waved. You got a better look at his face. It seemed unusually large for a human face with sharp features. His teeth were huge. They looked rotten. You wondered if this clown was even human. He certainly looked demonic. That smile chilled you to the bone. It screamed dangerous. You quickly grabbed your phone and called 911.

“911, what is your emergency?” “There is a very creepy clown standing outside my front door.” The dispatcher paused for a minute. “A clown, ma’am?” “Yes, he’s just standing there smiling at me. He hasn’t moved. Can you send someone out here?” “What is your address?” You gave the dispatcher your address. “Are you alone?” “Yeah, I’m alone.” “Okay, I’ll notify a squad, but it’ll take some time since you’re quite a ways out.” You were trying not to panic. The clown was still standing there smiling it was like he was frozen. “Are all of your doors and windows locked? Stay on the phone with me, okay? We need to check and make sure everything is locked.” She was trying to keep you calm. “Well, I know my front door and all the windows are locked. I’ll check the back door.” You slowly backed away from the front door, not taking your eyes off the clown and as you got further away, you ran to the back door and locked it.

You hoped maybe the clown was just messing with you. You walked back to the front door. “This might sound strange, but I really hope…” The clown had now moved to your front window, his face and both hands pressed against it. You jumped back, startled. “What the fuck?” “Ma’am, are you still there?” “His face…it’s pressed up against the front window.” “Ma’am?” “He pressed his face against the window and his smile is even wider now. What the fuck?” Your voice is becoming more panicked. “Can you please send someone here fast?” “I’ve notified officers and they’re on their way. Try to stay calm, okay?” “He’s got no color in his eyes. He…” That was when you lost your composure. “Please can you help me?” “Just stay on the phone with me, and calm down. Everything will be alright.” You began to doubt that it would be okay.

You knew something was very wrong. This clown seemed to enjoy tormenting you. “Go away!” He pulled out a scalpel and tapped on the glass, grin still wide. “He won’t stop staring at me. He’s gonna hurt me. Jesus, please help me. Why won’t you fucking leave?!” The clown mimicked your crying, mocking you. He was laughing, but wasn’t making any sound. It occurred to you he was mute. “Is there somewhere you can hide until police get there?” You kept sobbing. The dispatcher kept trying to talk you through the situation. “I need you to lock yourself in a bedroom or a basement until the police get there. Do you have a place like that where you can hide?” The woman was still speaking to you calmly. She knew how to comfort you at least a little bit. This definitely wasn’t her first tense situation. “Yeah…I’m gonna go hide in my room.” “And you’re absolutely certain you’re alone?” “Yes, I’m alone in the house.” The clown was no longer smiling. He now looked eerily serious. He began to move. “He’s moving. He’s shaking his head. Oh God, he heard me the entire time!” He was shaking his head to tell you that you weren’t alone.

All the dispatcher could hear was glass breaking and a loud thud. “Ma’am, are you still there? Can you hear me? If you can hear me press a number key.” All that followed was the call being disconnected.

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Coriolanus Snow x Professor!Reader

University!Coriolanus Snow x Professor!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Obsession, cussing, rejection, angst, no happy endings, making out, kissing

You're 25 years old, live in Capitol City, Panem and work at the University as a professor. It wasn't your dream job, but yet again you never really even figured out what your dream job was.

But at least you're successful. Well, to a point considering you're single while all of your friends are married with children. But that's not your fault.

Really, it's not.

Your ex, Odysseus Odair, was a bit of a beach bum. His father owns a luxury cruise line based out of District 4, so the bronze haired Adonis prefers the sun, sand, ocean, and chilled out vibes of the fishing district over the glitz, glamor, and sophistication of the Capitol.

Couldn't pay you to leave the Capitol. Hell, you won't even leave to go visit your brother at the district base he lives on as an Officer in the Peacekeepers.

So that's why things didn't work out with you and Odysseus. He wanted to relocate to District 4 and live in a beach house, but you didn't want that. You have a good job and a nice apartment that you're not giving up to trapeze to a place where your children can be reaped for a death royale battle that's televised across the nation as a form of fucked up punishment for the war; the Dark Days.

But, as you understand from the grapevine, Odysseus is doing fine. He met somebody and they're having a baby.

If only you'd meet somebody.

It seems like all the eligible bachelor's your age are complete assholes.

Lucky you…

Maybe your soulmate got run over by a bus? What? You haven't met Mr. Right yet, so…

Coriolanus Snow’s favorite class at the University was yours and it wasn't because of the subject matter either. No, it's his favorite class because of you. Yes, he has a little crush on you.

Okay, that's a lie. Coriolanus is obsessed with you. So much so that he decides to approach you one day after class to see if you'll make good on an offer you extended in the beginning of the semester.

“Professor Halvir, I was wondering if you could perhaps tutor me.” Coriolanus told you, nearly scaring the shit out of you while you cleaned your blackboard- since you assumed all your students had left.

Jumping slightly and turning around, clutching the eraser in your dominant hand, you give Coriolanus a line of a smile. “Of course I'll tutor you, Mr. Snow. I did say that I can tutor any student that feels they need it.”

“That's very good to hear, Professor Halvir.” The platinum blonde smiles wide, all his teeth on display as his icy eyes twinkle- looking a bit unnatural, like a maniac serial killer or something.

“I have an open slot on Thursday afternoon at 4, does that work for you?” You ask your student, hoping that he wouldn't have another engagement during that time.

“That's perfect, Professor. I'll see you then.” Coriolanus smiles, showing off too many of his pearly white teeth to be considered polite, and walks out of your class with a bounce in his step.

Thursday afternoon at 4pm, right on the dot, Coriolanus Snow showed up at your office for his private tutoring session. He was polite and knocked on the door, to which you opened it and greeted him with a professional smile and told him to come in and have a seat. Which in turn resulted in the two of you sitting at your desk, books and notebooks open, as you discuss the course material. Material that Coriolanus didn't truly need help with, since he's highly intelligent and understands it completely.

The platinum blonde’s icy eyes wander down the v-neck of your shirt, checking out your cleavage. His tongue barely juts out and he subtly licks his lower lip. Oh, how Coriolanus loves titties; he just can't help, but want to see yours. He can tell by your cleavage that you must have beautiful tits.

Oh, and how he wants to see them right now.

Goddamnit, right now!

Coriolanus’ brain is nearly fried with thoughts of you as he scoots his chair closer to yours. He hooks his foot around your ankle, running it teasingly along your ankle bone, while slinging an arm around the back of your chair; essentially caging you in with his body. Coriolanus leans close to your ear, only to pur, “Professor, I think I'd rather have you tutor me in the art of lovemaking than in military political theory.”

“What?” You ask, taken aback by his smooth line.

Coriolanus’ hand began to caress your thigh as his breath tickled your ear. “You’re a very beautiful and intelligent woman; you've captured my attention and I’d like nothing more than to be with you.” His lips softly pressed against the sweet spot below your ear.

“Mr. Snow-” You begin to say, only for the platinum blonde to interrupt you with the request of, “Please, call me Coriolanus or Coryo.”

“Coriolanus, I'm your professor. It's not ethical for us to sleep together.” You told your student, struggling to get the words out of your mouth as his lush lips danced poetically up and down your neck.

“We're both consenting adults.” Coriolanus protests your rebuttal, his lips ghosting your skin. “There's nothing wrong with us giving into our desires.” He whispers against the hollow of your neck before nipping and biting at your collarbone.

“Coriolanus, we can't do this. I'd be jeopardizing my job.” You tell him around a wispy moan as Coriolanus’ hands start to massage and grope your breasts as he peppers kisses along your jawline.

Coriolanus’ head back and his icy eyes, blown black by lust, locked onto your gaze. “I'd never do anything to jeopardize your career, darling. I swear, I won't tell anyone about us; it'll stay a secret.”

Coriolanus was a very handsome man, a pretty boy with the looks of the ancient gods of the old myths, so it was hard to turn down such an Adonis throwing himself at you. But, you had to turn him down. It didn't matter that his kisses and touches were lighting a fire inside of you, it was too risky to do anything with him.

Shaking your head, you sigh, “I'm sorry, Coryo, but as long as you're my student we can't be together.”

Coriolanus was gutted at your rejection. He was so sure that you'd swoon over him. Girls always fell at his feet now that he was the heir to the Plinth fortune and had a very classic, sophisticated style that oozed old money. But you pushed him away in fear that an affair would ruin your career.

Fine, if your career's more important to you than he is then he'll let you have it. And he'll show you just what you're missing by turning down his proposition.

“Well, it looks like I don't need your tutoring after all, Professor Halvir.” Coriolanus coldly told you while untangling himself from you. “I'll leave you alone, darling, but mark my words you'll regret rejecting me.” He said before standing up and storming out of your office.

You felt horrible for rejecting him. And if things were different, you would've had no qualms with hooking up with him. But you can't risk your job; your reputation.

You can't help, but dread having to see Coriolanus during your next class. You're never going to be able to look at him the same way ever again after the way his kisses made you feel.

But the look in his baby blues when you rejected him will haunt your dreams. The platinum blonde man looked so broken, so betrayed by you pushing him away. You only hope that he doesn't dwell on the rejection; that it doesn't hinder his grades.

But unknown to you, the hots he has for you won't simply go away. And one day, many years down the road, you'll find yourself at a political fundraiser dinner party being thrown for Coriolanus as he embarks on a Senatorial campaign. But when he makes his next move, he'll make sure that his heart’s well locked away behind a brick wall.

Snow lands on top and one day he's sure he'll land on top of you. But right now you're the professor that he's obsessed with, but can't have.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @princess-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[nonbinairyboi]

Nothing Left: Chapter 12

Chapter Summary: Stranded, you and Joel are forced to confront your situation… at least partially. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x nonbinary!Reader/OC (afab, dimples, has multiple nicknames but none are their name)

Word Count: ~3.8k

A/N: I’m just proud to get it out as life has been hard. I appreciate comments and interactions if you feel so inclined.

Series Masterlist (w/ ASL) | Playlist | Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: Brief reference to earlier smut. Drinking. Smoking Weed. Non-graphic injury. Shotgunning.  Minor angst?

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Chapter 12

You didn’t fully drift off, but you felt your consciousness swimming in and out until a branch from a nearby tree hitting the side of the house startled you out of your dreamlike state. Joel had jumped at the sound as well, looking into your eyes for a moment before moving to get up, grabbing his boxers as he went.

You sat up, trying to contemplate how uncomfortable it would be to put back on your own boxers before deciding the long shirt you wore would be enough for the moment, grabbing a blanket from the bed and wrapping it around you to ward off the chill. 

“Stay there.” Joel threw behind him as he left the room, your pants in his hands. You stayed frozen in place, fighting the instinct to mentally spiral by overthinking.

A few minutes later, Joel reentered the room with his pack. Sitting down near the foot of the bed, he took a deep breath before addressing you.

“Storm’s still going. It’ll be a while ‘till we can leave, and we’ll need a plan if that horde is still around.”

You nodded numbly, unsure if you wished he would talk about what had just happened or if pretending it hadn’t was the best way to go.

“I’m-“ he hesitated, seemingly deciding that words were harder than actions at this point. Unzipping his bag, he pulled out a makeshift med kit before slowly reaching out to hold your arm, examining the now congealed blood on the scratches from the clicker. He glanced up, meeting your eyes with a questioning gaze, seeking permission to continue. 

You nodded slightly at him, allowing him to begin to clean your arm. You watched his face closely as he studied his work, his attention never wavering from his task, his eyebrows pulled together in concentration.

After wrapping your arm loosely, he produced another clean cloth from his bag, the color rising in his cheeks as he tentatively nudged your legs apart.

After an initial jolt of shock, you realized his intention and you felt hot under the care of his stare. You quickly grabbed the cloth from him, unsure if you were ready for the intimacy of him helping you with that particular clean up.

“I should have told you to pack a bag, just in case we got stuck, I’m sorry.”

You signed that it was fine after you were done, still only in your top and socks, which somehow made you feel more exposed than if you were barefoot.

Joel seemed to contemplate something for a moment before digging around in his bag again. With his face still angled down towards his bag, he lifted a wad of cloth up to you. You reached out and took it from him, a little confused until you unfurled it and recognized that it was a pair of his boxers.

You fought to keep your smile from widening too far at the gesture, settling instead for tapping his shoulder to get his attention and signing ‘thank you’. He nodded in acknowledgement as you went to put them on.

“Your pants are still wet.” He said. You raised your eyebrows at him and saw his eyes widen as he realized his phrasing “From the snow.” He added quickly. “I hung them up in the bathroom with our coats and jackets.”

You nodded, unsure where to go from here.

“I can build us a fire. I have a pair of pants packed here too if you want to use them while yours dry.” Joel looked thoroughly uncomfortable with the conversation, and you took pity on him, signing that you would like that.

He handed you the pants and left the room, returning soon after with your belt before heading back into the main space.

You took a moment to center yourself, reminding yourself that you were an adult and that you needed to not get carried away. You were in a dangerous position emotionally but also physically. You needed to figure out a way to get back to Jackson safely once the storm calmed down. Pulling back the curtain, you took a peek outside. The snow was falling so heavily that it was hard to see too far out. You pulled the blanket off the bed and went to join Joel, finding him kneeling in front of the fireplace, dropping the blanket next to him.

Spotting your sweatshirt on the floor near the door to the garage, you grabbed it along with his flannel, wrapping your own around yourself before waving to get his attention, holding up the flannel in your hands.

He nodded in recognition and you tossed it to him.

‘The horse needs water’ you signed at Joel, mentally preparing yourself to dash outside with the bucket you saw by the door.

His forehead wrinkled in concentration as he slowly repeated the signs back to you, looking confused at the sign for horse.

You smiled and pointed to the garage before signing it again, recognition lighting up his face.

“Alright. Be quick about it though.”

You grabbed the bucket and put on your shoes, taking a breath before opening the door to dash outside. 

The wind whipped around you, stinging your cheeks as you squinted against the onslaught. You hurriedly squatted (with some soreness) and used your bare hands to scoop snow into the bucket, the cold biting your fingers cruelly. You really should have located your gloves before this.

You perked up at a sound that was eerily close to a croak riding on the wind. You couldn’t see the gates from here with the low visibility and the cry sounded far away, but it put you on edge. Scrambling to finish filling the bucket, you dragged yourself back inside, closing the door harshly behind you and locking it.

“Y’alright?” Joel called to you. 

You nodded despite the stiffness in your fingers, toeing off your shoes and making your way towards the slight glow growing from in front of him. Settling on your knees next to him, you placed the bucket beside you to melt and rubbed your hands together, hoping to generate some warmth as the fire grew. 

Joel’s hands suddenly enveloped yours, forcing your gaze to raise and meet his own. His eyes looked so open in the dancing light that your stomach flipped, your shocked inhale breaking the silence.

“I-” Joel halted, apparently thinking better of what he was going to say. He cleared his throat.

“We should look around. See what supplies this place has.” He said instead.

You nodded, taking your hands from his grasp and getting up to look around, hoping that a walk would calm your racing mind.

Heading to the kitchen, you began opening cabinets and drawers, finding little of note at first; some dish towels, extra pencils and paper for the log book, a few mismatched glasses of different sizes.

Kneeling despite your protesting body, you opened the last cabinet to find two liquor bottles and a jar. The bottles both held some unidentifiable liquids. You put them both on the counter and picked up the jar to examine it more fully.

A laugh bubbled its way out of your throat when you saw it in the light. 3 fat joints were inside. You had never been more grateful for Eugene. If Joel was going to keep up the silent act (a hypocritical thought for you to have) and you were stuck here, this was exactly what you needed. 

Loading your arms with your newfound goodies and grabbing two cups for good measure, you made your way back to the living room, where you were pleasantly surprised to find the fire now casting a healthy glow around the room. Joel had disappeared but the blanket you had brought was laid out along with some cushions from the couch. You smiled as you placed your findings beside the makeshift spot. Maybe it wouldn’t be as awkward as you had anticipated.

Noticing that the snow in the bucket had melted, you took it upon yourself to go out to the garage and give it to Whiskey, along with the extra blanket by the back of the couch.

Humming at him in acknowledgment, you held the bucket up for him to drink from before setting it down and switching out the damp blanket on his back, giving his nose a few good rubs while you were at it. Once you were satisfied that he was comfortable, you made your way back inside and settled on a cushion.

Joel returned a few moments later with what you recognized as your coats and pants, laying them next to the fire at a safe distance to dry before sitting next to you, leaning his back onto the couch behind him.

Keeping your eyes on the fire, you leaned back as well. 

“It don’t look like it’s stopping anytime soon.” Joel gruffed, his gaze fixed ahead. 

You nodded your head, the reality of the situation crashing down around you. You were stranded, with very few resources, with a hoard practically at your door.

Joel seemed to sense you tense up beside him.

“We’ll figure it out.”

He sounded like he was convincing himself as well as you. In response, you held up the two bottles you had found and shook them at him.

He scoffed a laugh, taking the one that had what looked like an official label and some amber liquor to inspect it.

“This one might actually be real.” He said, mesmerized.

You passed him the second bottle that held some sort of clear liquid.

“This one looks like shit.” He said, matter-of-factly, cause you to snort before covering your face.

You handed him the two glasses you found before jiggling the jar in front of him.

“Well, shit.” He smiled. “Thank god for Eugene.” 

You enthusiastically signed your agreement, a shared laugh bubbling between you.

After silence settled between you again, you hit his shoulder to get his attention before signing ‘which one should we start with? Weed or alcohol?’

Comically over-exaggerating a thoughtful pose, Joel replied with “Huh, why not both, Char?”

Your dimple carved itself into your cheek with a sideways smile at his new nickname for you.

You shrugged and began to pry open the jar as he twisted off the cap of the whiskey-like substance, pouring you each a generous portion. Clinking his glass to yours, you each sipped your drinks before you leaned towards the fireplace, letting the edge of the joint catch fire before inhaling and then blowing on it lightly. 

With a smirk on your face, you passed it to Joel.

You both sat comfortably in the silence for the next few minutes, leisurely passing the jay back and forth in between you as you drank.

Joel’s head rolled slightly to regard you more fully after you flicked the end of the jay into the fire.

“What- happened earlier?” He questioned.

You looked at him quizzically, not understanding his question as you were pretty positive he understood what sex was.

“Where did you go?”

Your blood suddenly turned to ice. The discrepancy between the signs that you had taught him and the things you needed to communicate seemed an unbridgeable gap.

Directing your gaze to the ceiling, you fought the burn in your nose and the glassiness of your eyes. The seconds seemed to drag on like a sloth crawling through quicksand as you contemplated your reply.

You settled on signing ‘you’re a man’ before pausing, gauging his reaction.

His eyebrows pulled together, trying to wrap his mind around what you were communicating. You saw the moment something clicked in his mind as he hastily looked down at his hands.

“Ain’t too fond of men, generally, I take it.” He said to his hands.

You shrugged and nodded your head a bit side to side once he looked back up to you.

He seemed to contemplate how to phrase his next question and you saw what looked like a bit of red climbing his neck as if he was embarrassed and out of his depth.

“Cause, um, you prefer uh- women uh- generally or cause men ain’t been kind?” He asked.

You breathed deeply through your nose before signing ‘a little bit of both.’ It was your turn to stare at your hands, instinctually scared of his reaction.

You heard him inhale a bit shakily before taking another gulp of his drink and placing the glass on the floor.

“D’you regret it?” He asked, his voice sounding scared.

Your head shot up to regard him, trying to read his own answer to his question through his face. If anything, he looked vulnerable. Like he was worried that he was about to learn something he wasn’t sure he could face.

Slowly bringing your hand up to his face, you tilted it towards you, forcing him to meet your eyes. His big brown eyes were pleading and shiny in the firelight.

You shook your head subtly, a crooked smile forming on your face.

His eyes immediately lightened, hopeful. You brought your face to his, directing your gaze to his lips before meeting his eyes once more. His breathing hitched. You used your hand to angle his lips to yours, pulling him in greedily as he released a small moan into your mouth, his beard scratching your chin.

You pulled back after a minute, his lips chasing yours. Your smile widened as you kept his head in place with your hand, continuing your retreat.

After staring into your eyes again, he muttered a quick “well fuck” before grabbing the bottle and refilling your glasses, causing you to burst out laughing.

You sat in silence as your bodies warmed further, both from the fire and the liquid you had determined was, in fact, whiskey.

You sipped a bit more carefully as the day went on, cutting yourself off earlier than Joel did. Once this storm stopped, you’d need your wits about you.

The sheets of snow outside turned a darker color as the afternoon slowly bled along; the pressure building between your bodies like the expansion of a forgotten Coke in the freezer. Sweat gathered at the base of your neck from your proximity to the fire but turned to a chill as soon as you got up and walked around, hoping to pace the snow outside away.

As your brain began to teeter towards the alluring insanity that often seduces when one feels trapped and restless, your toe caught on the bottle of moonshine that still sat untouched next to the blanket.

It toppled over, a small amount of the liquor seeping into the carpet, a victim of the age of the wear and tear of the cork that held it. Quickly bending down to right the bottle, your eyes became mesmerized by the growing spot on the blanket as it crept its fingers towards the edge closest to the fire. A sudden and violent pop from the fire sent a spark sailing through the air, abruptly landing on the wet circle of the throw. In slow motion, like the predictable yet satisfying explosion in an action movie, you saw it catch light; you could hear the whoosh of the acceleration of the flame.

Without thinking, your foot shot out, stomping on it repeatedly until you felt strong arms jolt you back.

“What the fuck?” Joel yelled at you, spinning you around to face him.

Your heartbeat and breath seemed to have decided that they liked a bit of a more upbeat tempo than usual, turning you towards a hazy, black-spotted vision before giving you whiplash as it shoved you back into the present.

All of your senses rushed back to you, the pulsing deep throb of the self-inflicted burn at the bottom of your foot furiously making itself known. A pained grunt left your mouth as you lightly pushed Joel out of your space, lowering yourself to the ground as you grabbed your foot for relief. Finding none, you hissed through your teeth as you rocked back and forth. You sensed Joel moving around behind you but couldn’t seem to focus or comprehend what was happening. Scooching further back onto your ass, you bent your right knee, contorting your leg so that you could get a good look at the burn.

Sure enough, your sock now sported a strangely placed hole on the sole of your foot. Through the newly made ‘window’, you saw an angry darkening mark. 

Joel suddenly sat in front of you, pulling your leg forward before opening the bottle he had filled with snow earlier and pouring the cold water over your foot. You hissed at the uncomfortable sensation buzzing through your whole body at the action, accidentally pushing your leg forward as you involuntarily tried to get away from him and nearly kicking him in the face.

“Woah. Careful, careful. It’s ok.” He coaxed you through the pain. 

It felt momentarily better before the staccato ache returned full force. You breathed through it, your calf still in Joel’s hand as his thumb circled lightly around your ankle bone.

He chuckled as your breathing evened out slightly. ‘What?’ You signed at him, slightly annoyed that he was laughing at your pain. 

“M’sorry. I just-” he struggled to get his laughter under control. “I kinda thought that one might have gotten an - expletive out of you.”

Your eyebrows crumpled a bit at that. Did he think this was a conscious choice? Pulling your leg back toward yourself, you hobbled up and over to the window, peeking outside. 

‘Still snowing’ you signed towards Joel, not looking at him.

Joel cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable in the settled silence.

“S’getting dark. I think it might be good for us to - uh - stay. Won’t be safe to try and fight our way out like this.” He advised once the stillness of the air finally strangled the words out of him.

You nodded your head despite the sudden storm swirling around your brain. A slight panic had settled in your bones. The man across the room had seen you now in multiple states of vulnerability, but he didn’t understand a thing about you. He didn’t understand that you weren’t a woman, but how could he? You hadn’t told him. He didn’t understand that it wasn’t a choice to not speak. That sometimes all you wanted to do was fucking yell in someone’s face and explain everything but your body physically seemed to stop you and ASL was the only way you had slowly been able to get any sort of communication back.

You were emotionally stuck on top of being physically stuck in a house with a man with no real plan of escape.

You jumped and whipped around when a hand landed on your shoulder. 

Joel’s apologetic expression came into focus and your shoulders relaxed slightly in spite of your misgivings.

“I didn’t mean to suggest-” Joel started before restarting. “I’m realizing that we don’t really know each other all that well. And I didn’t mean to - I’m not sure -”

You took pity on his stumbled words, the fight and anger leaving your body in a flood of exhaustion as you signed that it was fine and placed your hand on his shoulder in reassurance.

“It wasn’t my intention to trap you here on your first day out.” He said with a labored exhale. “I would have brought more food.”

You laughed lightly, hobbling your way back to the blanket on the floor, ungracefully dropping yourself back down. If you were stuck for the night, you might as well light up another one. Grabbing the jar of joints, you held it up and shook it, making Joel chuckle.

“Well, shit. I usually wouldn't, but maybe it will inspire our exit strategy.” Joel drawled as he groaned his way to the floor next to you, before stopping halfway down, grabbing his glass and draining the whiskey left in it. “It's as frigid as a banker’s heart in that other room, and I don’t know about you, but my back ain’t survivin’ a night on this floor.”

He paused, shifting his jaw to the side in thought.

“Would you help me bring the mattress in here?”

You rolled your eyes at him before offering your arms up to him to help pull you up, proud of yourself for keeping your laughter under wraps as you noticed how much more pronounced the whiskey had made his accent.

After an embarrassing amount of huffing and puffing, you both sat on the mattress comfortably set up in front of the fire, passing the now lit joint between you.

Zoning out, your eyes focused on the reflective glass of the bottle of moonshine, the fire projecting its dance around the surface. An idea suddenly popped into your brain in the slow-motion reserved for the ingenious thoughts that were born only while you were smoking. 

Your hand shot out and grabbed Joel’s shoulder harder than you meant to right as he was holding onto his last puff, causing him to dissolve into a fit of coughs. 

‘Sorry.’ You signed as you frantically got to your feet, hissing through your teeth at the pain that exploded in your foot, running to the kitchen, grabbing one of the dish towels that you had found earlier in the day, and then half hopping back to your spot next to Joel with it.

He was looking at you with a strange look in his eyes, swimming somewhere between apprehension and humor as you grabbed the bottle of moonshine and held the towel over the top, waving it for dramatic effect. 

You saw the realization slowly dawn in his eyes as a smile broke across your face as you placed the bottle back on the ground.

“You’re a fucking genius.” He breathed, his eyes falling to your lips. 

The air seemed to swell with electricity, a static clinging to you, tangling in the veins of your arms and crawling like a tree’s roots down to the core of you.

Without a second thought, you crawled onto his lap, grasping around his neck lightly and using your thumb and index finger to tilt his head up to meet your eyes, his mouth hanging open slightly as he stared into your eyes. 

Taking the roach from his fingers, you brought it to your lips, inhaling deeply and holding it in before you threw it into the fire. 

Placing both your thumbs on his chin as your index fingers extended along his jaw towards his ear, you gently pried his mouth further open before leaning in, sealing your lips on his and exhaling the smoke into his mouth as he greedily inhaled it.

You leaned back, observing him hold it in before blowing it out the side of his mouth. 

A charged moment sat between you before you both rushed to each other, pressing your bodies closer together as you began to devour each other. 

Next Chapter

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