#so anywhere we go she risks getting sick because no one who can wear one will

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

for @vampiregirl1797

“I just feel like we should put all our cards on the table before we go...all in. I’d like to go all in, but I feel like we need to be straight with each other about some stuff.”

“Oooookay,” Eddie says slowly, lowering himself to sit at the table. He had to shuffle the chair back a bit to fit the bump, “uhm, right.” Eddie feels kind of sick. Not the morning sickness kind, that’s long gone now, just the regular this is the End Of The Steve Thing kind of sick. Because someone basically saying we need to talk has never, not once, turned out well.

So.

Eddie maybe hasn’t come clean about anything. Eddie’s maybe been spending months scenting Steve curled up on his couch watching shitty movies. Eddie maybe just said the pups father isn’t in the picture and didn’t elaborate. Eddie maybe thought Steve had just bought that.

But Steve wants the truth, and Eddie’s going to let him have it, even though when Steve finds out what a little drug dealing slut of an Omega Eddie has been, like, historically, this might be it for straight laced Steve.

The End.

“I started in the library because I was doing community restitution.”

Eddie’s brain screeches to a sort of halt. Because wait. This was about Eddie admitting he’s a shit human being, right? Not for Steve to admit to doing anything wrong…? Wasn't it?

“Community restitution?” Eddie starts slowly, “like...you’re a criminal?”

Steve snorts but then looks at the table, fiddling with his own fingers before he looks back up again, “yeah. Kinda’.”

“And the crime was..?”

“Property damage. Rob’s boss tried to touch her up and then when she walked he screwed her out of her last pay check. It was her word against his so that didn’t go anywhere and...I may have smashed a couple of windows. A dozen. A dozen windows. While intoxicated.”

Eddie can’t even imagine that. Steve’s wearing fucking slippers and he’s at home now, so he’s swapped into the glasses that have an old people chain so he can hang them around his neck and not loose them, “I mean. Sounds...like a fair response. Yeah. Okay.”

“Sure?” Steve looks uncertain.

“I mean? If that's the worst thing you've ever done I’m pretty sure were good?”

Steve hums, it’s not a positive sound, “you know I’m,” he indicates the sides of his head. Steve’s told Eddie about the concussions. The sports scholarship. The one too many hits to the head and then the burst eardrum and the following infections that fucked his hearing up real good and pretty conclusively ended his career before it even started.

“Yeah?”

“Right, so without them in, I mean, I don’t wear them to sleep.”

And Eddie hadn’t thought about that, didn’t realize, because he hasn’t actually slept with Steve yet. Because Steve was courting him. Properly courting him. They have date night. It’s so fucking domestic Eddie nearly turns inside out over it.

Also Steve works in a library and he read somewhere that the bite of an Alpha who is not the sire of the pup can, in a few rare cases, cause the Omega’s body to fail the pregnancy and like...reject the pup in favor of having another heat so it can carry the pup of their actual mate. Or something. And because of that Steve won’t do more than kiss Eddie. Because he’s not willing to even take the risk that he might bite Eddie in the heat of the moment. He’s so fucking committed he actually offered to get Eddie off. Was very clear that he wanted absolutely nothing in return, was just happy to do hand or even mouth stuff to keep Eddie happy if that’s what he wanted.

Steve is like, just, how is he even real? And obviously Eddie said no because he's not a complete dick and saying yes felt incredibly selfish, even though he's been kicking himself every day since because when Eddie makes a decision Steve fucking respects that.

Fucking perfect loveable bastard.

Which is as adorable as it is fucking frustrating. But Eddie has also agreed that they will wait. They will wait until the pups born. They will wait for such time as Eddie can fully focus on a relationship. Whatever Steve means by that because Eddie is horny and doesn’t really care for the waiting part but-

“So I’m pretty deaf, at night.”

“Riiiight…?” Eddie has no idea where Steve’s going with this. Eddie is clearly fucking missing something along the line here.

“So when the pup cries at night, I won’t hear it. Like I definitely won’t hear it. And I get that, someone who can help more would be more appealing. Sometimes I don’t hear so good if there’s a lot of noise, so I’m worried if the pup cries and like, the TV’s on or something, I might not hear right away. And if you’re tired, I want to help at night, it’s not fair if you have to wake up all the time. I know I should have said something sooner but honestly it only really occurred to me today at work-”

Eddie’s heart is fucking melting into his guts. This is too much. Steve Harrington who smashes windows in defense of his best friend's honor. Steve Harrington who actually worries about his ability to look after another Alpha’s pup. This man. Eddie doesn’t know what to do and now his stupid face is leaking because he cries at fucking everything at the moment and Steve is looking at him absolutely horrified. Jesus Christ on a cracker.

Steve dashes around the table and dabs Eddie’s eyes with his own sleeve, while Eddie blubs incoherently about how perfect Steve is and how he’s the best Alpha ever.

So. There’s that.

Later, when Eddie’s finally managed to stop crying, but is lying splotchy faced on the couch, admits to Steve, “I’m not sure who the Alpha is. And they’re all douches so I didn’t want to hang around to find out.”

“Oh,” Steve says quietly, rubbing at Eddie’s knee, “do you want to find out now?”

“Still no. And, I get if you think it’s...wrong or...selfish...or whatever. I understand if you...you know, don’t like that I was sleeping around a bit.”

Steve seems to actually ponder that for a while, so Eddie decides to go all in and put the final nail in his own coffin, “also, I used to sell drugs. And do drugs. Some drugs. But not now. Not touched it since I found out about the pup. Haven’t been selling since I came back. Or smoking actually,” Eddie sighs, “could kill for a smoke right now though.”

Steve’s quiet for a long time, thinking. “Is the Alpha...likely to find out? Could this come back on you?”

Eddie bites his lip, taking a moment over it, “I don’t see how it ever could, no.”

Steve sighs, “okay, and clearly you weren't being safe, so did you get tested?”

Eddie swallows thickly, desperately trying not to start crying again, the embarrassment of admitting this out loud to Steve, Steve who is just so much better than him, might eat him alive, “yeah. Yeah, first uhm, appointment I had with the Omega nurse, we did all that. I’m all good. And I haven’t...been with anyone, since I got back to Hawkins.”

“So, basically, you found out about your pup and changed everything about your life, so you could do the best thing you possibly could for you baby, practically overnight?”

“I- I mean. I’ve tried?”

Steve pulls Eddie up and into his lap, so they can scent each other thoroughly, “Eddie, I think you’re wonderful.”

And Eddie shoves his face harder into Steve’s neck because he’s pretty sure his whole face is bright red with blush.

Eddie’s knee is bouncing, making the chain from his wallet jiggle, but he doesn’t seem to be able to make it stop. Steve rests his hand on Eddie’s disobedient knee; that works.

When Eddie’s name gets called, he goes, knowing that Steve is right behind him. They do the boring bit, and then Eddie is getting up on the bed and then the nurse is saying, “are you staying?” With a frown on her face.

And Steve looks down to Eddie and Eddie says, “yes?” and is then suddenly bristling at the side eye they are both getting from this nurse. Because yes, okay, Eddie doesn’t have a bite, and yes, fine, he and Steve aren’t mated but god dammit he wants Steve here for this.

He can feel the stupid nurse judging him and he fucking hates it but then Steve is squeezing his fingers reassuringly and yeah, okay, that does make it better.

Eddie doesn’t like the cold gel or the pressure, but he does love hearing his pups heartbeat. He really fucking does. It’s quick and strong and perfect.

“Would you like to know the sex?”

Eddie looks at Steve, but Steve’s just smiling and shrugging and being all perfect still. Happy to go along with whatever Eddie wants. Everything Eddie wants. Even though it’s technically not Steve’s choice anyway, even though it’s not Steve’s pup. Even though all of that, some Alphas would be presumptuous enough to pass an opinion, or worse; Steve absolutely never has.

And Eddie was always the kind of kid who shook the Christmas gifts, who couldn’t sleep, who couldn’t wait.

“Yeah, yeah please?”

“It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” and Eddie can feel the waterworks starting up again already and it doesn’t help when he looks up and Steve is looking at the screen with a look of wonder on his face. Steve looks like he’s in love. “I’d like to refer you though, for a routine investigation.”

Eddie’s nerves spark even though the nurse lady hasn’t given any indication of anything being wrong, “what for?”

She hums, moving the wand thing around, “it’s reasonably common in male Omega that their hips are too narrow to safely pass the pup. And from what I see here you may fall into that category, we should find out now and not in the delivery room.”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand again, “yeah. Yeah, makes sense.”

At least it means there’s no guesswork. Eddie isn’t waiting to go into labor; his narrow hips mean he has a date and time to meet his pup. He wants Steve with him, Wayne doesn’t even question it; is happy to sit in the waiting room with his newspaper and wordie or whatever that thing is he plays on his phone. There’s a curtain up, and Eddie can’t feel a fucking thing from the chest down because of the godamn terrifying needle thing they’ve put in his spine. So at least there’s that.

It feels like forever and no time at all, a lifetime of trying desperately not to panic while Steve holds his hand tight and tells him everything is okay. And god Eddie wants to snap and ask him where his sudden medical degree has come from, but he doesn’t, he bites it back, knows it’s the fear talking.

And then there’s a pup crying and she’s a bit gross and covered in gack but she’s being deposited straight onto Eddie’s bare chest and he doesn’t know what to do because suddenly he’s a parent. But Steve coos down at her and doesn’t seem at all phased by the gack when he holds her tiny hand oh so gently in his big one.

Eddie wakes up, and his calves are throbbing. He feels like he's actually run somewhere, and has the worst cramp. But then, he wriggles his toes and realizes he can feel everything again, even if he wishes he couldn't because everything fucking hurts.

Right behind that, he remembers why everything fucking hurts, and that startles him the rest of the way awake, suddenly flooded with panic because where is-?

Oh. All he has to do it look to the side, and she's right there, swaddled up in Steve's arms, Steve comfortably feeding her a bottle.

Steve must sense he's awake grinning over, "did you see how much hair she has? It's going to be just like yours." And Steve looks so absolutely delighted by that simple thing, and Eddie can't help but think that maybe this whole thing will work out okay.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Can you do a touya/Dabi fic with shotos twin sister and just had one quirk which was fire so she was tossed aside so she resented her dad and somehow she met dabi/touya and he made her his little spy but she also desperately clings to him at times when she reports to him and stays close since she never got that affection (Btw for outfits she usually wears tank tops and bootcut jeans) please and thank you

Warnings: sorry this took forever for me to get out, been meaning to get to it cuz i miss writing for dabi x todoroki!reader, tons of trigger warnings, sibling incest, siblingxsibling relationships, betrayal, manipulation, resentment, overall dark themes, dysfunctional todoroki family ft, mind the tags, don't read if you don't like the subject matter 🖤

Inhaling deeply before letting out a slow, steady, breath, you pull open the large front door of Endeavor's agency. You could survive a few hours in the presence of your father. Or rather, lingering in the background like the little ghost you were.

No one would dare to say it out loud, but everyone and their mother knew you were the spare twin compared to your slightly older brother Shoto. He was the pride and joy of the Todoroki family, unlike you. At first you believed it to be unfair. You were in the womb at the same time as him. Why didn't you get a ice and fire quirk?

Was it really because he was the first born? That couldn't be it.

Your white flames, while hotter than even your father's, did little to impress him.

You didn't turn any heads when you enter your father's personal floor of his agency's building. This task was easy. Stealing information and sending it to your older brother and his crew became a normal thing for you.

"See, I told you we should have her around." Dabi argued in your defense while caressing the side of your face. "She's a good girl who listens to her big brother, aren't you?" Some would call his tone degrading. You felt the tenderness in his hand though as it delicately angled your face upward so he could look into your mismatched eyes. One the hue of a storm in the sky, the other the color of a raging sea. That’s what Dabi always said before you closed your eyes to go to bed.

Shigaraki and the rest of the League were less thrilled about you being anywhere near them. While you weren't popular like your father or Shoto, many still knew your face. Having you around could be more of a risk than the League were willing to pay.

You just wanted to make him happy, to keep his eyes solely on you. If it involved betraying the other members of your family (including your twin brother Shoto) then so be it. You would let Dabi’s words consume you entirely, making you his mindless slave.

The rest of the League members could chalk it up to Dabi simply using sweet words to manipulate you. He didn’t care about anything. Especially his family. What made you different?

Now that was a secret that Dabi would not utter. His praise filled words were genuine when it came to you and Dabi would be damned if he had to give you up again because of Tomura. He'd make sure you'd make yourself indispensable to the League. They'd have to let you stay.

You were just as determined as Dabi was to keep your place. You hated to even pretend to be under allegiance to your father or any superhero for that matter. They'd always looked down on you for not being like Shoto. Never being enough for them or their world. But you were enough for Dabi.

Slipping the flashdrive up your sleeve, you leave just as you had arrived: unseen. Just in case the cameras hidden throughout the building were focused on you, you'd nonchalantly picked up some of your father's paperwork in appearance of tidying up his workspace like the good daughter you were.

It made you sick to your stomach thinking that not too long ago, all you'd ever wanted was Endeavor's attention and approval. Shoto suppressed his fire ability for years, associating it with his abusive father so you thought you had a shot. You spent hours upon hours practicing with your flames to make them hotter and hotter and finally to where they could melt anything and everything. Leaving not even ash behind.

When you hand Shigaraki the flashdrive, he grudgingly accepts it with a stiff nod. He didn't want to admit that you were providing them incredibly valuable information that all other villain groups lacked.

He ignores Dabi's smug grin as he slung his arm around your shoulder, giving the top of your head a peck. "Knew you could do it." His brings his hand up for his fingers to brush against your cheek.

You felt it again.

The world stopping and all breath departing from your lungs. You wanted Dabi to brand you with his palm, to use his blue flames and scorch your skin so you would always have a piece of him.

Then Dabi leans down, lips caressing the shell of your ear and in his husky tone he calls you "Good girl."

Blushing and highly aware of how Dabi simply towered over you, you shyly duck your head. "Ha. . . it was nothing."

Everyone learned to simply avert their attention when Dabi's affections for you walked on the razor's edge of what was appropriate.

You'd proven to be their perfect spy. Shigaraki couldn't wait to see you in actual battle. That would really be the test of your usefulness.

[tartlette1968]

It's 2023, and we're not post-covid, we're mid-covid,

Nearly 2 weeks ago my sister, in Perth, on her Facebook feed posted something to effect of...

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck faaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrkkk..."

So something was not right.

In actual fact something was very fucking wrong...

My Brother-in-law had covid. My fully vaxxed brother-in-law who is on immunosuppressants to control lupus, has a low functioning thyroid, and diabetes HAS FUCKING covid, from somewhere. He needed hospitalisation in very short time, because of small clots in his lungs, and was released, after being immediately prescribed anti-virals. Then back in hospital again, then released. He is now back in hospital, again, with pneumonia. Now, let me explain this slowly. Lupus is an auto-immune disease, and to control it, you have to suppress the immune system. What they have to do, now, to fight the pneumonia, is to lessen how much they suppress the immune system, which won't be fun for his lupus.

Meanwhile, Huntress and I contracted covid over here in Adelaide. Officially our positive RATs didn't come until Wednesday and Thursday. The RAT I did on Tuesday (when I felt completely shithouse) was negative. There I was sleeping more often than not, smelling literally every bloody smell there was, and finding those smells really awful, my head feeling like it would burst, and the RAT was negative. Huntress did a RAT Wednesday, and Thursday morning showed me the faintest of red lines that showed her to be covid positive. I did another RAT then, and as soon as the fluid from the test dropper hit the line, it turned bright red, for me, no waiting for 15 minutes. I was feeling about 50% better by then, save for my sense of smell being very dull; I still felt like crap, but I wasn't surprised. While I was obviously improving, after Tuesday, Huntress was slowly feeling worse.

But Thursday was the 26th of January, and a public holiday, so there was no calling her GP. We called Huntress' Doctor Friday, and they were eager and insistent on Huntress attending a Respiratory Clinic, to organise a script for the anti-viral meds very quickly. Then the nurse urged us to call the ambulance to monitor her SpO2. That was done, and they were here for hours, but the end result was a script filled for the anti-viral by 6 o'clock that day.

It is day 5 or 6 now, on our own covid journey, and Huntress is improving faster than we hoped after two days of the anti-viral course. I'm smelling things again, and sleeping without waking up coughing every 20 or 30 minutes. Huntress, so far, has managed to avoid an ear infection, and pneumonia, which would cause all sorts of problems, as she is seriously allergic to all antibiotics, save some that really aren't useful at all. She is sleeping, and only experiences the odd coughing fit.

But my Brother-in-law is in a life or death battle, now.

Look, our Government has been defending their slack approach to covid, by trying to reassure us that "Most people are vaccinated, now."

Huntress is vaccinated, with one booster, but the last dose she had, unfortunately, brought on anaphalaxis, which required a day in the ED, and adrenaline shot, and a worry, now. She can't risk another dose, at least not of an mRNA vaccine.

So it's this simple. I was walking around, with covid, breathing this stupid virus... into my mask, because this is exactly the reason why I wear a mask. I get runny noses after one sneeze, all the time. That was no different to what happened on Monday, when I already had covid. My throat feels a little scratchy regularly, and my nose gets blocked weekly, thanks to just stuff in the air. Even if it was just the flu, on Tuesday, I wasn't going anywhere, because I was sick, and I didn't want to infect someone.

People need to remember, we're super infectious before we are even feeling sick, and there are people walking among us who, while they are doing everything they can to prevent being infected, we need to meet them halfway. My sister caught covid a few months ago, and moved into their caravan to completely isolate herself, and keep my Brother-in-law safe. But we need to wear masks, keep washing our hands, get vaccinated, and avoid crowded events and places. Because for some people, even doing all they can do, it isn't enough, and they need us to be brave and step up to do our bit, too.

[limetameta]

OTP questions: 7, 8, 16, 31, 41, 42, 57

7 Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

Riza Hawkeye is restless one day and she's just about to announce that she's going to go on a jog when Kimblee, known lazer in beds, just casually asks: ''How about you use that pent up energy for something useful?'' Riza tells him she's not in the mood for sex. He scoffs. ''So juvenile, I was thinking to build a pillow fort.'' And Riza, ngl, she's down for that. So they just build one just because one day and hide in there for fun.

8 What happens if one of them gets sick?

Riza Hawkeye is fully functional with a fever of 39-40 degrees celsius, like she's not missing work. She's chugging water and sweating this bad boy out. Kimblee is like nearby in case she does need taking care of, but she's VERY MUCH got a handle on things. You think she's weak?? Pfft. No, she's not going to so much as complain about anything. Ever.

Now if Kimblee gets like a 37,8 fever he showcases it like it's the end of the world and people need to hear his last will and testament. Riza makes him soup. He cries and says it isn't the right kind of soup. She goes on a run to fetch him medicine and he takes it but he complains so much about it. This is a primadona when sick.

16 Can they stay up all night just talking?

YES. IF ANYTHING THIS IS THEIR MAIN LOVE LANGUAGE. ON A WEEKLY AVERAGE THEY SPEND LIKE 3 ALL NIGHTERS JUST TALKING UNRELATED TO WORK.

31 Can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? (lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.)

Riza can. Kimblee can. Kimblee refuses to. Riza promises that she's going to get back at him so hard for all of these little moments of pda when they get back home. Kimblee looks entirely too pleased with himself.

41 Which one would take their jacket it off and drape over the other one because they were visibly shivering?

KIMBLEE. I even have him do this in my fic Central City Stroll

42 What's their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

It's a summer night and the sky is full of lightning bolts, it's in the middle of a thunderstorm. Kimblee and Riza are watching all of this through a window and just chilling. They're wearing their home clothes and have like an ice tea in hand or something to drink.

Meanwhile in the middle of winter, heating on max, Riza dying and going to open the window to air the place out a bit - Kimblee shouting that she's being abusive towards him and that she's not welcome anywhere near him ever again for letting the cold air inside. Riza, short sleeves and sweating: Solf, it is A HUNDRED degrees in here! - Kimblee covered in blankets and hissing at her: If you open that window I'll have to refuse you entry into the bed - Riza opening that window anyway and just going: That's just the risk I'm willing to take. - Kimblee gasping at her audacity.

57 Whose the serious one when grocery shopping and who likes to toss random things in the cart?

Kimblee is the holder of the grocery basket. He takes this duty very seriously. Especially whenever Riza tries to put her 13 in 1 shampoo bottle. He protects the basket with his LIFE and tries to stop her. Riza will learn how to properly take care of her hair if it's the last thing Kimblee does. But yeah, Kimblee also tosses stupid shit into the basket and Riza has to say: We don't need that. / Kimblee makes a whole case on why they do indeed need an obscene amount of candies. Riza just tells him he's paying for that if he really wants it. Kimblee is like no big deal for me *takes even more candies now that he's worn her down into agreeing to let him buy them* Somehow when they come home Kimblee sees a brand new 13 in 1 shampoo bottle in the bathroom.

[sixhundredwinionsinatrenchcoat]

Getaway Car (Thaluke)

In which a young Thalia and Luke steal a car and get into a high-speed police chase straight out of the movies.

It all began on a regular day. Or, at least as regular as things could be for two young demigods constantly running for their lives from monsters. Luke and Thalia had been at their latest safe house in Georgia for a few days now, and they were starting to figure they should get moving soon before the monsters found them again.

"Luke?" Thalia called. "We should probably stock up on food and supplies soon."

"Right," he said. "We'll move out this afternoon, go into the nearest town and steal some stuff."

"Good," Thalia said, wincing. "Because... I kind of think I might be dying."

"What?" he cried. "Why, are you sick? Because we haven't fought a monster since last week."

"I don't know," she said, pulling on her leather jacket. "But I woke up this morning and there was blood on my blankets and my pants."

"Do you know where it's coming from?" he asked. She looked down and mumbled something.

"Huh?" he asked.

"You know... between my legs."

"Oh-" his face turned bright red. "Did you climb over any sharp fences yesterday?" She shook her head.

"And there's no cuts anywhere, I checked. It's like it's coming out of my... you know. I think I might be bleeding internally."

"It's fine," he said. "I always have reserve ambrosia in my bag, maybe that will help whatever's wrong?" She held out her hand. Luke handed her a small square of ambrosia. She gnawed at it a bit, then handed it back to him and stepped out for a bit of privacy. About five minutes later, she peeked her head back in.

"Nothing."

"Maybe you didn't eat enough?" he asked, confused.

"I'd rather not risk having too much," she said, grabbing a spare pair of jeans from her bag, these ones black, so less likely to show stains.

"Well, then what do we do? It's not like we can go to the hospital."

"The library," she said. "When we get into town. They might have a computer we could use to look up what's wrong with me."

"Okay," he said. "And if it's something bad, we can give you more ambrosia." She nodded.

"And if it's something ambrosia can't fix, then drastic times call for drastic measures."

***

"Good news," Luke said, looking up at Thalia from the computer screen. "It's natural."

"Natural? How is this natural?" She sat on a spinning chair with her legs carefully crossed. He grinned at her.

"It means you're becoming a woman."

"Great, what a rite of passage," Thalia said with a roll of her eyes. "If it's part of becoming a woman, you'd think my mom could've bothered to tell me this was going to happen before I ran away, but all she ever cared about was parties and booze." She sighed. "This is only going to happen to me once, though, right?"

"Um..." he squinted at the screen. "Yeah, once-"

"Oh, thank goodness," she breathed.

"-a month," he interjected.

"Once a month? Are you kidding me? Who even wants to be a woman if this is what it means?"

"Sucks to be you, I guess," he teased.

"Oh, shut up." She rolled her eyes. "So, I'm just going to bleed all over my pants every month forever now? Is that what's happening?"

"Until you're, like, fifty, yeah," he said.

"Is there anything I can do to stop it?" she sighed.

"I can't find anything, but there are products you can wear to absorb the blood so it doesn't get all over your pants."

"Good. Add that to the list for our supply run," Thalia said, standing up. "If this is going to happen to me every month until I'm fifty, there's no way I'm letting it stop me from doing what needs to be done. Let's go."

***

About fifteen minutes later, they entered the convenience store. Luckily, it was winding down hours, so there weren't many people perusing the aisles, just a few adults with small children. As usual, Thalia would act as a distraction while Luke swiped everything they needed. There was only one cashier tending the register, so Thalia's work was easy. She walked over and leaned on the counter, trying to make small talk with the cashier about prices with a bored look on her face.

Meanwhile, Luke perused the aisles with his backpack open. He stuffed it full of whatever snacks and toiletries he could find, including what he hoped were about two months' worth of pads and tampons for Thalia, along with some over-the-counter painkillers and a hot water bottle, since he'd read cramps could be brutal. By the time he was done, his backpack was stuffed full, and he'd shoved a few items into his pockets, too. He gave Thalia an it's almost time look and started heading for the door. He was almost there when an older woman standing in the snack aisle seemingly noticed he hadn't stopped to pay for anything he was carrying.

"Stop!" the woman yelled. "Thief!" Luke grabbed Thalia by the arm and they raced out the sliding door, running down the parking lot, looking for a chance to get away.

"There!" Thalia yelled, pointing to a silver car parked at the end of the lot. "Get in, get in, get in!" The doors were unlocked. Luke flung the driver's side on open and scrambled in and Thalia climbed into the passenger's seat. They slammed the doors behind them and Luke grabbed a set of keys from the dashboard, fumbling for the ignition.

"Buckle up," he told Thalia as he did himself while inserting the key to the ignition. A police car was already whooping down the street.

"Do you even know how to drive?" she asked him as her seatbelt clicked and the vehicle started to rev to life.

"I'm fourteen and I ran away from home when I was nine, what do you think?" he said as he tried to back up, ultimately slamming into the side of a black pickup, sending a jolt through them both.

"Oh my gods," Thalia said, putting her hands on the dashboard. "We're gonna die."

"Hey, at least if we do, you won't have to deal with periods anymore," Luke teased, then attempted to back up again. This time, the car shot out of the parking spot at a speed that had to be illegal and screeched onto the street, roaring past the police cars and down the freeway.

"How did you get that on the second try?" Thalia asked, shocked. He shrugged.

"My dad's the god of theives. Maybe I'm just good with getaway cars." That statement was immediately proven wrong as the car turned into the wrong lane, almost colliding with a forest green van that had a small family inside.

"Luke, brake!" Thalia screamed. He went to step on the brake, but swerved instead, bumping up over the curb and smashing through a storefront. Customers ran around screaming as they zoomed through the shop and smashed out on the other side. Thalia groaned. "I swear, we're going to kill someone if we don't kill ourselves first."

The sun was setting over an apartment complex as they zoomed through the downtown area- if it could even be called that. Two police cars were still on their tail. Luke swerved just in time to avoid crashing into a hot dog vendor's cart. The vendor, a short, squat man with a bald head, round glasses, and a handlebar moustache, shook his fist at them and shouted what Luke, being the son of the god of languages, could tell were obscenities in Spanish.

"Lo siento!" Luke yelled out the open window, then rolled it back up. Thalia rolled her eyes.

"This has been one of our most chaotic days in a while and there hasn't even been a single monster."

"Hey, sometimes it's a relief to take part in the mundane, mortal type of chaos," Luke shrugged as they careened through a tunnel.

"Where are we even going?" Thalia asked.

"Wherever we end up once we've shaken them off, I guess," he said. "Minor detour. Though I suppose it's not a detour if we didn't know where we were going to go in the first place."

"I suppose not." She rubbed her temples, then started digging through Luke's bag for food. She pulled out a chocolate bar. "I'm taking this."

"No, by all means, go ahead," he said. "I need to focus on driving anyway. Especially since I've never done it before." She sighed.

"Seriously, if we get caught we're going to be in trouble for theft, reckless driving, underage driving, and driving without a license."

"Thals, we never get caught," he said. "We'll shake them off."

"Before or after we total the car?"

"Oh, shush."

"Oh, yeah, and I forgot grand theft auto." She broke off a square of chocolate.

"I think that falls under the purview of theft, which you already mentioned."

"Yes, but when I said theft, I was referring to us stealing from the store." Luke swerved around another corner, the tires shrieking on the asphalt, nearly missing another car.

"Stop distracting me unless you want to get killed."

"You know," she said, "my mother would have never wanted me to be a criminal."

"So what you're saying is...?" he asked, confused. She grinned.

"Gun it."

"I'm already gunning it as much as I can." They shot through another tunnel, scraping up against a stone wall and probably ruining the paint job on that side of the car.

"Okay," Thalia said, glancing out the back at the police cars behind them. "I've gotta admit, this is pretty cool. We're in an actual, real live car chase."

"Thank you." He tapped the wheel. "I try."

"Well," she said, "then try harder, because they're gaining on us." Luke nodded and slammed his foot onto the gas. The car shot through another storefront, this one empty and boarded up. "Oh, yeah, and property damage," she said, adding to their invisible rap sheet.

"Well, the joke's on them," he said, zooming down the highway, which lead towards Atlanta. "They can't say we did anything wrong if they never catch us."

"Okay, quit saying that," Thalia said. "You'll jinx it, you cocky bastard."

"All right, all right." He nodded behind them. "Look back, are they further behind now?"

"Out of sight," Thalia said, glancing back. "But I wouldn't celebrate just yet." The wail of sirens still pierced the air.

"Hope you don't get carsick," Luke said as they rumbled over a speed bump, going up in the air a little bit.

"No," Thalia said, though her face looked kind of green. "If I got carsick, I would have done that a long time ago now."

"True," he said. "If we survive this, remind me to get actual driving lessons once I'm old enough."

"I mean, I think you could start next year if you wanted to," she shrugged. "But I really wouldn't advise it."

"Hey!" She playfully punched him in the arm. "What did I say about distracting the driver?" he asked.

"You're no fun," she said with a grin. "Hey, I have an idea." She leaned over and turned on the radio to the local news station.

"...a car chase on the highway to Atlanta. The perpatrators seem to be a fourteen-year-old boy and a twelve-year-old girl, who robbed a convenience store in a nearby small town and then, upon being noticed by customers, proceeded to hijack a customer's parked car as a getaway vehicle."

"Smart," Luke said. "We can hear how it's going from their end of things."

"And this is why I'm the brains," she said with a grin, her electric blue eyes sparkling. He rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Yeah, right."

"I am!"

"The police had fallen behind the perpatrators, but are reportedly starting to gain on them again."

"Okay, no time for arguing." He floored the gas again and shot off, slamming into several other cars and veering off the highway onto an exit that led to another city.

"Can they technically chase us into another city?" Thalia asked. "Is that legal?"

"I don't think so, but neither is this," Luke said as they shot through the streets.

"I'm pretty sure we're leaving permanent skid marks," Thalia said as they smashed through another store front, zooming past more screaming people. "And we better not get caught, because we do not have money to pay for all the damage we've caused."

"Definitely not," Luke said.

"And if we get caught, you know it's gonna be your fault, right?" she asked.

"How? You were the one who had the idea to steal the car."

"I said we should get in the car. I didn't say we should drive it."

"Then how else were we going to get away?" he asked pointedly.

"Touché." The car wove in and out of some scaffolding. Thalia was really starting to look like she was about to be sick, her face was a pale green and her cheeks were puffed out like she was trying to keep from barfing. And Luke wasn't sure he could go on any longer. It had been a crazy day and he was dead tired. He just wanted to lean his head on the steering wheel and go to sleep, but that would be stupid. His eyelids were heavy, but he turned the car radio from the news to a station that played loud, aggressive music, the kind Thalia liked, in hopes of keeping himself from nodding off.

Thalia looked pretty tired herself, her bag sat in her lap and she was hugging it like one might a stuffed animal.

"You go ahead, sleep," he said, yawning. "I have to stay awake and keep driving."

"No, I need to keep an eye out for- LUKE, WATCH OUT!" He had let his eyes close for a little too long and had swerved into the wrong lane. He swerved again, narrowly avoiding being hit by a semi, but this time the car smashed into the brick side of a factory with a loud crunch. The hood was smashed open and started steaming, the doors fell off and the roof had caved in, trapping them. The car was totaled. The whooping of the police sirens grew closer.

"Lay low," Luke whispered, slumping onto the dashboard as best as he could. "Maybe they'll think we were killed in the crash. Thalia nodded and slumped as well. She let her eyes roll back in her head, her head loll, and her tongue hang out. Her version of "playing dead" was disturbingly realistic. The dashboard was hard and uncomfortable, but he kept stone still, holding his breath. Then, the sirens stopped and voices and footsteps grew closer.

"Totaled," a young female police officer said. "Perps probably fled the scene."

"No, it looks like they're still in there," another officer, an older man, said. "But they're likely either dead or unconscious, or else they'd be crying for help or trying to fight their way out of there. Let's dig them out, and bring them in if they're still alive."

Luke and Thalia were scratched up when the police officers cut them out of the wreckage of the stolen car, however they still tried their best to pretend they were dead.

"They've both got pulses," the young female officer said as she held her thumb to Luke's wrist.

"Put 'em in the back then," the male officer said. Luke's eyes snapped open and Thalia's rolled back into place, and they started to fight their way free. Luke looked at Thalia's face, which was covered in bloody scratches and bruises. He knew she'd been hurt worse, but seeing her like that still upset him. He managed to wrench free from the officer's grip and pull her as well, and they started to run, but before long their tired legs gave out and they were herded into the back of a police car.

***

They spent the rest of the night in a holding cell, which was only slightly more comfortable than a car wreck. Despite how exhausted he was, Luke barely slept. He didn't do well locked up. It always reminded him of when he was a kid, when he would lock himself in his room to hide from his mom and her episodes, those fits she would have where her eyes would turn green and she would shake him and say strange things about his fate. It was terrifying. With stuff like that going on at home every day, it was no wonder he'd known he was a demigod for as long as he could remember.

They remained in the same holding cell for the next few days. The female guards were kind enough to provide Thalia with menstrual products, though the raging hormones made her even more moody than normal, so Luke couldn't exactly say he was glad to be locked in with her.

Finally, one day the guards decided to transfer them to a bigger cell, and they figured it was their chance to escape.

"You kids ready to go?" the guard, a tall bald man with dark skin, said when he arrived to get them from their cell. Luke nodded, as did Thalia.

"Now, we're going to try and get you kids a court date soon," the man said, as he took each of them by the arm with one of his massive, baseball mitt-sized hands. "There's a lot of charges to press."

"Oh, if only you knew some of the other stuff we'd done," Thalia said under her breath, just loud enough for Luke to hear.

"Huh?" The guard asked, and that was when Thalia took her chance. She twisted around, raised her right leg, and slammed her spiky combat boot right into the man's crotch. Luke winced in sympathy, but took his chance. When the man let go of him and Thalia to hold where he'd been kicked, he grabbed Thalia by the wrist and ran, pulling him along. Being extremely fast was another Hermes power Luke had inherited, and years of running from monsters and the authorities had made Thalia quite the speedster too, though Luke was still faster.

"Come on." He pulled her around the corner into the room where they kept the confiscated property and found the safe that matched the number on the tag he and Thalia had been given. "Help me shove that table over so I can stand on it to reach the safe," he said.

"Can do," Thalia said. "But first, can you lock the door?"

"Yeah," Luke said. He kicked the door to the room shut, then put his hand on the knob and willed it to lock with his powers. "I'll get the stuff, then give you a boost out the window, and then climb out myself."

"Sounds like a plan." Together, they pushed the table over, and Luke climbed on top, just able to reach the safe. It was a combination lock, so all he had to do was give the knob a little tap with his finger and it spun and solved itself. The knob to the door leading outside turned. Someone was trying to get in, to no avail.

"Got it," Luke said, pulling the safe open. Thalia hopped up on the table and he tossed her her bag. She took his too and slung them both over her shoulder.

"All right," she said. "I'm ready." They walked over to where the window was. Luke cupped his hands and Thalia stepped into them, the spiky treads at the bottom of her combat boots cutting into his hands, but he pushed up, just enough for Thalia to be able to scramble out the window and jump, landing with a thud. "I'm okay!" she called. Luke had no doubt about that. Thalia was like a cat- she always landed on her feet. As did he.

"Okay," he breathed. "Now comes the hard part." He took a deep breath and backed up to the edge of the long table, getting as much of a running start as he could, and then he jumped. His body slammed into the cement wall, which hurt a lot. But he had a grip on the windowsill. It was a shaky hold, but enough for him to pull himself up and jump out. He landed on his feet right next to Thalia, albeit turning his ankle.

"Okay." She tossed him his bag. "Now we need to go."

"Ya think?" he laughed.

***

That evening, they were back at the old safe house where everything had started. Thalia was gathering kindling for their fire, and Luke was gnawing on a little ambrosia for his ankle.

"Well," Thalia said, "that was a hectic couple of days."

"Certainly," Luke said. "And to think that it all started because you needed period products."

"Oh, so it's my fault now?" Thalia teased, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't say that," he laughed. "You can't exactly control that."

"Right," she said. "I still wish my mom had explained this whole bleeding every month thing to me when I was younger so I wouldn't think I was dying the first time it happened."

"Well, now you know." Luke put away his ambrosia and took a bag of potato chips out of his pack. "Want some?" She walked over, sat down next to him, and grabbed a handful.

"You know, I'd never want to steal a car with anyone but you." She kissed his cheek, causing him to turn a bright tomato red.

"I feel the same way," he grinned once the blush had faded. "You're the best partner in crime ever."

"To us," she said, raising a potato chip like she was giving a toast at a fancy party. He laughed and tapped one of his against it.

"To us." And for the rest of the night, they didn't have a care in the world.

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 24 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Happy Saturday my loves! A little fluff/angst double whammy for your afternoon :) 

contains: grouchy aaron, food mention, description of anxiety, canon-typical description of murder

wordcount: 2.4k

“I seem to remember you being the one lecturing me about the bureau’s generous sick leave policy not all that long ago,” You told Aaron as you gently shoved him back into bed three days after he’d broken his leg. 

“I also recall that in that situation, you were the one who was injured,” Aaron grumbles, and you roll your eyes. 

“Yes, and you stayed home to take care of me. Now, I’m returning the favor,” you reminded him. 

“I’m not going to get a brain bleed, I just need the leg to heal. You don’t need to stay with me all day while I sit in bed.” He argues.

“You’re right, but I think we both know that if I wasn’t here, you wouldn’t stay in bed, and seeing as how you can’t get as far as the bathroom without my help, that might present a problem.” You chastise him. “I’m not coming home to you bleeding out in the hallway because you fell over and couldn’t help yourself.”

“You make me sound like I’m eighty years old.” he scoffed. 

“Well, if you agree to wear a life alert, maybe I’ll go back to work.” You said, throwing your head against the pillows. There’s a few moments of silence, punctuated by Aaron’s deep sigh. 

“I’m glad you’re here. Sorry I’m being grumpy.” He apologized. “I just don’t want you to have to take care of me.” 

“You’re injured and in pain. You’re allowed to be grumpy,” you told him. “And I plan on taking care of you for the rest of my life, so you should start to get used to it.”

“Can I hold you for a little while? You don’t have to go near my leg,” he says, knowing you’ve been extra-gentle to avoid his injury since you’ve been home together. “You could put your head on my chest and I could just… hold you,” Aaron asks shyly, and your heart melts. 

“Of course, baby.” you say, snuggling your torso in close, leaning your head against his pec and resisting the urge to toss your legs over his. “See? Sick leave isn’t all that bad,” you tease him.

“No, I suppose not,” he smiles, rubbing an arm up and down your back.

“Jack is so excited to have you home.” You comment.

“Not that it matters, I can’t even take him to the park or ride a bike with him.” Aaron grouses. 

“Aaron, he’s over the moon just to have time to spend with you. He could sit here in bed with you watching Toy Story on a loop for the next six weeks and I’m sure he’d tell you it was the best month and a half of his life.” 

“A month and a half… I’m gonna go crazy.” Aarom remarks, more to himself than to you. 

“You’re gonna have to take up a hobby. Maybe knitting,” you snort, and Aaron smiles. 

“Yeah, or braiding or something,” he agrees offhandedly.

“Braiding?” You ask. 

“Oh, I mean, or maybe I could get back into Chess, finally get good enough to beat Spencer--” 

“No, no, back up, what made you bring up braiding?” 

“Uh… it’s just… something I’ve been thinking about in case we ever, you know, made a decision, and felt like maybe---” 

“Aaron, spit it out,” you laughed. 

“Just… if we had kids, or a daughter, I would want to be able to do her hair. Because if you’re not home, I don’t want to be the dad that doesn’t know how to do his daughter’s hair.” He confesses, the embarrassment clear in his tone. You place a kiss to his chest. 

“You are a good man, Aaron Hotchner.” 

“I’m glad you think so, anyways.”

“Alright, you’re getting grumpy and self-deprecating, which is a bad combo. You need a nap.” You instruct him teasingly. 

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” He asks, tightening his hold on you just slightly. 

“Of course, love. You go ahead and rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

You went back to work a little over a week later, when Aaron was mostly off of his pain meds, and able to get himself around the apartment without any assistance. You were still staying there when you weren’t on a case, and found yourself grateful that you’d decided to sign a month-to-month lease-- you weren’t sure what the point was of keeping up the pretense of separate places anymore. But, then again, with Aaron injured, now probably wasn’t the best time for a move. You're working through a few scenarios in your head when Spencer interrupts your train of thought. 

“How’s Hotch feeling?” He asks as you and the rest of the team board the jet to head home after a case. 

“He’s doing better,” you tell him. “The pain isn’t bothering him as much and he’s getting a little bit of his range of motion back. I’m still trying my best to keep him in bed, but I’m sure you can imagine how well that’s going,” you tell him with a smile. 

“Well, tell him I can’t wait to have him back. I hate all this paperwork,” Morgan cuts in with a playful chuckle, and you shove at his shoulder. 

“I’m trying to keep him home, Derek. Besides, we all know that Spencer is doing most of the paperwork for you,” you called him out, and Emily and JJ laughed.

“He’s just so fast,” Morgan defends himself, and now everyone is laughing. 

“We do want him back,” Emily tells you. “But not until he’s good and ready. And then, you know, maybe even a few weeks after that. Wouldn’t kill him to take a vacation.” 

“I’m not so sure about that,” JJ smirks. 

“Please, he’s already itching to get back to work. I think he’d leave me if I asked for a vacation.” You tell Emily.

“No, if you asked for a vacation he’d buy a plane ticket in an instant. And he’d bring his work phone and his computer to the beach and try to solve a murder from underneath a palm tree,” Morgan argued playfully. 

“Sometimes when we take a case somewhere warm, I stand in the parking lot for five minutes and face the sun. And if you close your eyes, it’s almost like a vacation.” You say. 

“Weren’t you literally taken hostage the last time you did that?” Spencer asks, and you roll your eyes goodnaturedly. 

“Well, there goes my tropical getaway,” you tease. 

With Morgan as acting unit chief, paperwork deadlines are considerably more flexible, which is to say nonexistent. Strauss would probably have a field day when she went to review the case file, but that wasn’t your problem. And, quite frankly, as you rushed to your car to get home to your boys, you couldn’t care less. 

When you swing the door open, you interrupt a very spirited game of Connect Four between Jack and Aaron. You notice that Aaron has at least three opportunities to make a winning move, all of which he ignores in favor of allowing Jack to push his chips in at random. 

“You’re home!” Jack exclaims when he sees you, scrambling across the living room and wordlessly commanding to be held by you. 

You hoist him up onto your hip, not without difficulty. He was getting big, and it made you a little sad. It strikes you that you won’t be able to do this forever, wrap him up in your arms and make him feel small and safe and secure. You squeeze him tighter. “Were you good for your daddy while I was gone?” 

“Uh-huh.” He nods, pulling back to look at you and running the collar of your shirt in between his thumb and forefinger absentmindedly. 

“And was Daddy good? He stayed off of his booboo leg?” You asked the only Hotchner who would give you a truthful answer. 

“Daddy was good.” Jack confirms, and you narrow your eyes skeptically. 

“Did he bribe you to say that? Ice cream for breakfast, or a new comic book?” You ask. 

“No. We watched Toy Story and I learned checkers. I had cereal for breakfast, not ice cream.” He tells you, and you relent. 

“Sounds like you had a lot of fun, bug.” You say, putting him down and crossing the living room to sit next to Aaron on the couch, who leaned over to press a kiss to the top of your head and placed a hand in your lap. 

“I did. But I missed you.” Jack tells you, climbing onto the couch next to you. 

“He’s not the only one,” Aaron whispers, pressing another kiss to your hair. 

“I missed you both, very very much,” you tell them, snuggling closer into Aaron and placing a hand in Jack’s hair. 

“We had pasta for dinner. I saved you a plate,” Aaron tells you. 

“Thank you, baby.” You tell him. “But, I’m pretty sure it’s past somebody’s bedtime…” You mention, and Jack pouts immediately. 

“I told him he could stay up until you got home, but he promised he wasn’t going to fight when it was time for bed, right buddy?” Aaron reminds his son. 

“Come on, sweet boy. I’ll tuck you in,” You tell him, pecking Aaron’s lips briefly before scooping Jack up off of the sofa and bringing him to his bed, tucking him in with extra stories and kisses to make up for the nights you missed while you were gone. 

When you come back into the kitchen, Aaron has heated up the leftover pasta and is waiting for you at the counter. 

“You didn’t have to get up, I would have done that,” you tell Aaron, knowing full well that he’d never actually listen.

“How was the case?” He asks as you settle in and start to eat. 

“It wasn’t too bad. We got the guy to surrender without hurting any of the hostages. A few of them were in pretty rough shape, but they should all recover.” you tell him in between bites. 

“And the team? Everyone’s doing okay?” 

“We’re all good, babe. JJ’s getting really good at the geographic profile, but I think it annoys her to stay at the station when we’re all out.” 

“She’s pregnant. It’s not worth the risk,” Aaron reminds you. 

“I know, honey, but it’s still annoying. It’s kind of like when you break your leg and you’re not allowed to go to work but you still have to hear all about it from your girlfriend,” you point out, and he smirks at you. 

“Morgan’s doing okay? The field agents aren’t giving him any trouble?” 

“Morgan can handle himself just fine against any cocky field agent. You don’t need to worry about us, sweetheart. We’re okay. You trained us up good,” you smiled at him, and he blushed, rolling his eyes at you. “We want you back, but we want you back healthy,” you tell him.

“Well, the doctor cleared me to start PT in two weeks. So hopefully I’ll be back sooner rather than later,” Aaron tells you. 

“That's great news! So the cast is coming off soon?” You ask. 

“Yeah, he wants to see me again to take it off and give me the final go-ahead for PT.”

“And you’re gonna take it easy at PT, because you know you can’t rush recovery, right?” You remind him. 

“Yes, mom,” he teases you with a smile. 

“It’s my turn to fret over you. Karma’s a bitch,” you smile at him as you get up to take his plate to the dishwasher. As you do so, his phone rings. 

“Hotchner,” he says into the receiver. “Woah, woah. Slow down, please. Are you okay?” Aaron says, and you turn around immediately, concerned. “Garcia, hold on. I’m going to put you on speaker. Yeah, she’s home. She’s here with me.” Aaron says, his eyes flicking over to you as he pulls the phone away from his ear and adjusts the volume. 

“Okay, so, I have been keeping an eye on Josh’s arrest record, awaiting his arraignment and his court dates so that we could throw a big ‘Josh is in prison for life party,’” she tells you, spitting out information a mile a minute. “There hadn’t been any movement for a few days, and I couldn’t figure out why, but I decided to check one more time before I went to bed tonight, and Josh’s dealer posted bail for him four days ago.”

“What?” You say. You heard her, heard every word she said in perfect clarity. But there had to be a mistake, right?

“Garcia, what do you have on the dealer? What has Josh been doing for the past four days?” Aaron asks, and you hear him, but you also… don’t. Everything sounds like you have cotton stuck inside your ears, or like you’re underwater. This couldn’t really be happening, could it?

“That’s a trigger,” you mumble quietly, and you think that Aaron doesn’t hear you, he’s so focused on his conversation with Garcia that you try hopelessly to follow. He turns to you, after a moment, tucking his phone back into his pocket. 

“What did you say, doll?”  He asks you. 

“That’s a trigger. You know, how we say that serial killers have triggers that make them start killing people. This is probably a trigger to start killing,” you say, staring at a spot of dirt on the tile. Jack must have tracked it on his cleats, and Aaron couldn’t mop with his injury. You should really clean that. You needed to get the dirt off the floor. Mop, mop, where did Aaron keep the mop? You pulled it out of the closet and were headed for the stain when you felt Aaron’s hands come to rest on your shoulders, blocking your path. 

“Hon, what are you doing?’ He asks, trying to make eye contact with you, which you avoided. 

“The floor needs to be mopped.” You answer, emotionless. 

“Why don’t you come sit down, the floor can wait,” he says, trying to guide you towards the sofa. 

“Aaron, your knee! Go sit. Go, go. I just need to get the floor clean. Please just go sit and I can fix it. It’s okay. I got it.” You got more and more worked up as you continued to stare at the dirt, watching the stain grow as your vision blurred, as if the dirt were mocking you. 

“Hey, hey hey. Where’d you go, angel? Come back here with me, love. You’re gonna be okay. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” He says, wrapping his arms around you. 

You’d never wished more that you believed him. 

tagging:  @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads

[doyumacy]

RIDE OUT - 9

ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ,  ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2,7k

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @coffee-prince-kyungsoo@xcharlottemikaelsonx@marksquare@tomorrowxforever@yoongsicles @neococo7 @angels-from-california @ahgastayzen @hiraarri @uhyikesbro

"yes yes yes yes," you moan as yuta eats you out.

"y/n, you look amazing. your face flushed, your lips as red as cherries, and your pussy, well i have no words for that." your face flushes even more from the compliment.

yuta adds a third finger and you roll your eyes. "fuck, i'm gonna cum." you whine.

"come for us, baby," you hear mark whispering in your ear. “let us see how beautiful you look when you cum.”

you wake up startled. your forehead is full of sweat and your hair is sticking to the back of your it. you swallow slowly as you sit on the bed and try to control your breathing. you don’t even realise you are panting.

what the hell was that? why is your mind tricking you in that way and making you have wet dreams about these two men? as if it isn’t hard enough.

you run a hand through your hair and get up from the bed going downstairs. it seems that johnny and jisung aren’t up yet. you need to focus on something else or your mind won’t stop replaying your steamy dream, and that’s the last thing you need right now.

you make breakfast and then get ready to open the shop. luckily, jungwoo has arrived earlier and he has already opened. you enter the shop and spot jaehyun talking to jungwoo about some switches.

“good morning,” you mutter.

jaehyun turns, surprised as if he isn’t expecting you. jungwoo smiles at you. “you're early today, y/n.”

“couldn’ts sleep,” you shrug and walk next to jaehyun. “i recommend the red one. it’s a better fit for your car.” you tell jaehyun.

he nods. “thanks.” he rubs his nape. “do you think we can talk?”

“i’ll be… at the office,” jungwoo gives you privacy and locks himself in the small office.

you turn your face to jaehyun. “what do you need?”

jaehyun sighs and rests his hands on the counter. “i didn’t know anything about it. i found out he was alive like almost two months ago…” he scrunches his face. “i’m sorry.”

you slowly nod. “i know.”

jaehyun frowns. “hold on, you’re not gonna yell at me or something?”

“you want me to yell at you?” you ask him.

“no, but… i thought you hated me and didn’t want to be my friend anymore,” jaehyun exhales in relief.

“dude, i had your dick in my mouth,” you remind him. “nothing can beat that.”

jaehyun laughs. “so, are we good?”

“yeah,” you reply to him. “but if you ever lie to me again i will chop off your balls.”

“you are a sadist.”

“stop whining and come here,” you open your arms.

jaehyun goes around the counter and hugs you. “i also knew you wouldn’t last too much time upset at me.”

you squint your eyes and look at him when he pulls away. “i can still regret it.”

“you won’t, and you know why? because i am your best friend and you need to rant about the situation,” he beams proudly.

“well, you’re right,” you murmur. “my mind is fucking me up and i don’t know what to do.”

jaehyun wraps an arm around your shoulder. “listen, y/n, fuck your mind. listen to your heart, does it beat faster when you see mark or when you see yuta?”

“beats pretty much in the same way for both,” you groan. “i’m even having wet dreams with them, jaehyun!” you rest your head on his shoulder. “i’m sick.”

“well, my advice is go poly!” he smiles and you stare at him. “yeah, never mind. that wouldn’t work. yuta is too possessive.”

“i just remembered why i never ask you for advice,” you sigh.

jaehyun giggles. “you want me to be real honest?” you nod. “you like mark and maybe there are more feelings there involved, but how do you feel about yuta? you might still have feelings for him?”

you pinch your nose. “it’s… complicated? weird? i mean, i never felt like that for anyone before. yuta is… the love of my life?”

jaehyun shrugs. “could be yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s your only love of your life. you still can have one more, or two, or three…”

“could you please run me over?” you sigh dramatically.

jaehyun chuckles. “y/n, i’m serious. you need to make your mind up before someone gets hurt.”

“that doesn’t help either,” you groan, pushing him away.

you are walking down the santa monica pier with mark at your side. after he picked you up that afternoon, he told you he'd take you to your favorite place. you never revealed him that, but replied he got a little help from jisung.

you are walking close together, shoulders brushing. and mark desperately wants to hold your hand. he ends up taking your hand into yours and you smile slightly squeezing his hand.

“the sun is setting.” you say. mark drags his eyes away from you and focuses on the water. the way the waves move toward the skyline.

the sunset reflects onto the water, pinks, oranges, and purples all blending with blue. It’s beautiful.

“it’s breathtaking.” he states, turning his head to look back at you.

“yeah. it's my favorite part of the day," you say, sounding awed. mark smiles at you, big and lopsided.

“i feel the same way,” he confesses, staring at you.

you blush and decide to avoid his eyes. you two stand there in silence for a while, holding hands. once it’s nearly dark, mark and you walk to the pacific park entrance and he smiles looking at the colorful roller coaster. “let’s ride it.”

"that looks,” you pause as you look up and watch the cart fly along the metal, the occupants all screeching with excitement as they were flipped upside down and around sharp curves, “interesting.”

"come on!" he takes your hand, yanking you towards the line.

how are you supposed to say to mark you're scared of roller coaster and you have never rode one? but you can't. he looks so excited and so thrilled about it that your heart melts.

you don't have to wait long before you are next to load onto the cart. mark looks over and sees that you are biting your bottom lip as the previous passengers file out of their seats.

“y/n, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” mark looks at you.

“no, I want to do this.”

“good,” mark nods, “because it’s our turn.”

mark helps your with placing the seatbelt on, laughing when he realizes that you never wear a seatbelt when you drive but somehow you trust it. when the ride operators come around and pushes the metal bar onto your laps, you squint down at it and tilted your head.

“do they really expect this to stop us from falling out?” you whisper and yank on the bar a couple times, making the whole cart shake.

“come on baby, you know about physics,” mark reaches over and places one hand on top of you to stop the shaking.

"i know nothing about physics," you frown, looking at him.

"you do," he holds your hand. "just relax, baby. if we fall, we won't know."

you groan and squeeze at his hand. "i'm gonna yank your hair off."

mark chuckles and when the car begins moving forward, the grip that you have on the bar tightens. you begin creeping up the first hill, and mark looks over at you to try and calm your nerves.

“why don't you ride roller coasters?”

you rub your forehead. “my best friend died on a roller coaster. this shit collapsed and she died."

"oh shit, y/n... i'm sorry," mark stares at you and groans. "fuck, i'm sorry. i'll talk to guys so we can get off ri-"

mark stops talking when he sees you laughing and throw your head back. he cocks an eyebrow. "what's so funny, baby?"

"i'm shitting on you, mark," you wipe your eyes.

mark squints his eyes and pulls away from you. the roller coaster stops once you're on the highest point. you refuse to look down because you don't want to see the sea and how tall you are. mark slightly moves, making the cart move. you hiss at him. "stop, mark."

"what?" he smiles at you, moving again.

you whine and you grip at the bar. "mark!" you groan. "stop it or i swear to god i'm gonna run your over with my car."

mark laughs and he comes near you. "you're so cute when you get mad."

"and i'll get cuter when i chop off your balls," you stare at him.

he pouts. "truce?"

"fine. but dinner's on you."

after leaving the pier, mark takes you to his favorite restaurant. he then takes you home and parks right outside. he turns to you and smirks. "i had a great time."

"yeah well, wish i could i say the same," you joke.

mark laughs and leans to give you a kiss. you kiss him back and he grabs your jaw to kiss you better. you pull away and smile tilting your head to the side. "just a simple kiss for you, lee."

mark nods. "as my girl wishes."

you roll your eyes. "you can be very cheesy sometimes, did you know?"

"yep." he winks at you.

you sigh. "i can't stand you."

"too bad. you're already so into me."

"just... go home, mark." you giggle and give him a final kiss. he nods and kisses you back. "text me when you get there."

(...)

on a saturday night, doyoung ask you, no, demands you to be at a party he's throwing. you don't want to go, but you can't risk screwing yuta's plan.

you arrive at the party’s locations and you find some known faces. you spot doyoung talking to a red haired man and you assume he’s his friend. you turn around, walking through the drunk and high people dancing. you have a cup in your hand, but you’re not drinking. you need to keep your head clear in case something happens.

as you’re trying to make your way to the bar so you can take a seat, you meet with someone’s chest. you look up and your eyes  wide open. it’s jisung.

what the hell is he doing there?

“what in the world are you doing here?” you hiss at him.

“my friend invited me,” he shrugs.

“are you stupid, jisung?” you look at him. “this is doyoung’s party!”

“w-what?” he stutters. “i didn’t know. my friend just told me to come, but i can’t find her anywhere.”

“tell your… friend you had to go.” you advise him. “please. i don’t want doyoung to see you.”

“too late.”

“why?” you frown.

“he’s walking to us.”

you suddenly feel an arm around your shoulders and doyoung pulls you closer to him. he smiles. “who is this young man, y/n?”

you gulp. “he’s my uhm… my brother.”

doyoung smiles looking at jisung and extends his hand. “nice to meet you. i’m doyoung.”

jisung looks at you and then eyes doyoung’s hand. he slightly shakes it. “hi. i uhm… i’m jisung.”

“jisung.” doyoung nods. “i’ll remember that name.”

you remove doyoung’s arm and get away from him. “we’re actually leaving.”

“already?” doyoung cocks an eyebrow. “but the party just started.”

“i have homework,” jisung suddenly says.

“homework?” doyoung laughs. “okay. young kid needs to finish his tasks.”

“thanks for having me,” you tell doyoung. “see you later.”

“uhm… g-goodbye.” jisung mutters.

you take jisung by the arm and walk out of the party. you both are shaking but try to act as nonchalant as possible.

doyoung watches you two leave and when he feels someone’s presence next to him, he doesn’t even flinch. “told you he’d come.”

doyoung takes a bale of cash and hands them to the person standing next to him. “how did you convince him?” he turns to them.

“he’s a man,” the person fixes their hair. “a bit of flirting and he was ready to leave his family.”

doyoung nods. “yves, right?”

“yes.”

“nice job. i’ll see you around.”

(...)

the days go by and you and johnny come to the agreement that jisung will not leave the house until the situation is fixed, as it is very risky and doyoung knows about his existence, although he still does not know the identity of 'jwi'.

one night, after mark drops you off he decides to walk to the door and when you two are having a mini make out session, yuta decides to show up.

the sensation you get is confusing. you feel you're cheating on yuta and that makes you feel guilty. but you also like mark, and the more you spend time with him, the more feelings you get for him.

on the other hand, you keep having dreams where the three of you are together and you hate it.

you slightly pull away from mark and look at yuta. he only stares at you. "good evening."

you press your lips together and mark's grip on your waist tightens. "is johnny inside?"

you nod. "yes. you can come in."

yuta shakes his head. "can you tell him i'm outside please? i just need to give him something."

"okay. i'll be right back," you murmur.

you get into your house looking for johnny. mark leans against the wall, with his hands inside his jeans pockets. yuta looks everywhere but at him and it's uncomfortable.

an awkward situation.

"so..." yuta breaks the silence. "you dating my wife."

mark stares at him and blinks. "yeah."

yuta nods, slowly crossing his arms on his chest. "enjoy the time you still have left with her."

mark scoffs, almost laughing. "you're that insecure you need to threat me? you need to work harder, buddy."

"you're allowed to think whatever you want, mark," yuta shrugs. "y/n loves me. don't tell me you don't see it."

"i don't because i'm sure about her feelings towards me," mark smiles.

"please mark, you'll end up believing she's over me and hurt yourself," yuta tilts his head to the side. "i'd recommend you to walk away for once."

"i'm not the type that walks away," mark spits, looking at him.

you and johnny show up at the door and johnny greets yuta. he hands him a black usb and tells him he needs to go. he approaches you and kiss your cheek goodbye. yuta smiles at you and before he turns around to leave, he winks at you. mark rolls his eyes and johnny feels awkwardly trapped.

mark says goodbye seconds later but he gives you a kiss on the mouth, making johnny feel more uncomfortable. his eyes go everywhere, trying to avoid the scene of you kissing mark. it's gross.

"okay, get a room now. i can see the tongues from here," johnny makes a disgusted face.

"goodnight, baby. sleep tight." mark kisses your forehead.

"you too," you smile at him.

mark says goodbye to johnny and you watch him get into his car. once you and Johnny are back inside the house, johnny rubs his cheek. "girl, you need to do something about it."

"about what?" you ask him.

"about the two desperate dicks that were outside minutes ago," johnny scoffs. "didnt you feel the tension between those two? i thought they would start beating each other at any second."

"I don't want to talk about it," you state.

"you always avoid talking about it, but you eventually will have to choose one." johnny cocks an eyebrow. "or maybe convince them to start a relationship with the three of you."

"you're so annoying, johnny. just... go away." you wave a hand to shoo him away.

"you can shoo me away but you know you need to choose one." he shrugs. "it's not fair and you know it."

you sigh. "i know."

[ggreactionsandscenarios]

Hi! May I request something from the scenarios prompt list? 7+31 with Mina? Thank you!

Mina x Reader

Prompt n°7 : Walking on your gf and mom talking about you

Prompt n°31 : Kiss me under the rain

Good impression

"Do you have everything packed already ?"

You closed your suitcase before facing your girlfriend with a smile.

"All set captain !"

Mina chuckled before engulfing you in a hug. You stayed like this for some time before she gave you a kiss and proceed to carry your suitcase down the stairs knowing you might kill yourself if you try to.

"Let's go, I can't wait to meet your mom."

You couldn't help but smile at your girlfriend's impatience. Since you asked her to go home with your for the holidays, she didn't stop asking about your childhood, your family and your mother.

For whatever reasons, your girlfriend believes that every women are partly a reflection of their mom. You being her girlfriend, she was curious to see what your mom was like.

Soon enough you were on the road, both of you singing happily to the songs playing on radio. Mina insisted on driving all the way to your childhood house without any break, she wanted to be there before night.

As much as you liked the fact that your girlfriend was really excited to meet your family you couldn't help but feeling nervous. You liked your family as dysfunctional as they were and liked Mina as much as you could but the idea that both might get along was nerve breaking.

"Don't frown, you'll get old before the age."

Mina put her hand on your thigh, making you look at her face. She was wearing the brightest smile ever, a smile that didn't seem about to go anywhere soon.

You grabbed her hand in yours, smiling at her when she looked back at you for a second.

Somehow you weren't nervous anymore, even if your family didn't like your girlfriend, you were sure she'll be able to charm them in no time.

You must have fell asleep at some point because when you opened your eyes again, it was already dark and the car was parked in front of your house.

You wondered why Minari didn't wake you up before seeing she was still beside you. She had her head hanging low and was mumbling things under her breath.

"Hey, why didn't you wake me up ?"

She got startled by your voice, probably too deep in thoughts, she didn't noticed you were awake.

"I just needed some time to prepare myself I guess.."

You were confused, she was so excited earlier but now she seemed rather terrified.

"Where did my excited girlfriend go ?"

"I'm still excited but now it's late, I don't like being the girlfriend who brought you home late."

As you tried to reassure your girlfriend it started raining outside, the rain hitting the car in metallic drops.

"You bringing me home is enough for them."

You said, cupping her cheeks in a gentle manner. You were about to kiss her when thunder made you jolt back in surprise, the rain was surely not going to die down anytime soon.

"Well... if you bring me home sick because you let me be soaked by the rain they actually might hate you."

"Ok ok ok, we're going now. You stay in the car, I'll be back."

Mina exited the car right away, letting you chuckle at her need of approval from your parents.

She got the luggage out of the car trunk and brought them under the porch before you could even step foot outside the car.

After traveling back and forth she came back to open your door, keeping you from getting a single drop of rain on you by blocking it with her own body.

She went to the car one last time while you were under the porch with the luggage, both of you perfectly dry. The time she got back the rain had increased and she was now soaking wet. Her hair sticking on her forehead and drops running down her face. 

You saw how she shivered, her light shirt wasn't enough to keep her warm in such a shitty weather.

“You might have done too much here babe, you weren’t suppose to get yourself sick either.”

You got her hair out of her eyes, revealing her loving eyes which where digging into yours before giving you a peck.

You swear those eyes alone could make you do anything for her. On a sudden impulse you took her hand and pulled her back under the rain.

"Y/N what are you doing ?! You're going to catch a cold."

"Then I'll be sick with you. Just kiss me under the rain."

Just as you talked the thunder covered your voice in a deep groan.

"What ?"

"Once we'll pass the door I won't be able to kiss you the way I want so kiss me under the pouring rain until I'll get sick of it."

Your girlfriend's eyes were filled with passion while listening to your words. She watched your lips as they asked to be kissed and couldn't refuse it.

She leaned in, embracing them warmly with hers in a needy kiss. Her hands encircling your waist to keep you close, rain running down your bodies but not being the reason why you were shivering.

It's only when a car passed by honking that you detached yourself from her, only to go back to kissing her deeply.

She was the one breaking the kiss, mostly for air though.

"Okay, what was that ?"

She was in daze, still appreciating the taste of your lips on hers. Until her head suddenly jerted back, hands moving to her nose.

"Atchuu !"

The sneeze had bring tears to her eyes, making them look red and puffy. She pouted her lips at you and whined.

"I'm sick because of you now."

"You're sick in love babe that's okay."

She rolled her eyes at you before kissing your forehead.

You led her to the front door, both of you were soaked by the rain, your steps marking the wooden porch in wet foorprints.

You knocked, letting Mina hide herself behind you. You mom was waiting for both of you so it was pretty useless but you let her.

The door opened on your mom and she engulfed you in a hug right away. It's been a while since you've been home to be honest seeing your mom's reaction made Mina feel guilty to be the one keeping you away from her.

"I was worried I thought you were supposed to come before dinner. God you're soaking wet get inside before you catch a cold, both of you."

You looked at your girlfriend giving her a reassuring smile before entering your chilhood house.

"Sorry mom, we got caught in traffic and then in the rain. Could we go take a shower ? I think Mina is getting sick already."

"Atchuuu !"

"Oh yeah if course, go ahead. I'll heat up dinner and make hot chocolate for when you'll get back."

You led your bowing girlfriend upstairs to the bathroom. She haven't uttered a word yet, maybe frozen by the weather outside or maybe by fear. Saying she'll be hated if she'll get you sick might had been a bad joke considering how she was now terrified of your mother.

"She hates me."

Your girlfriend let out a defeated sigh in the stairs.

"You didn't even talk to her yet."

"Exactly. She hates me and thinks I'm rude and impolite because I didn'tsay anything."

"You're overthinking this babe, she's going to love you. Now get in the shower while I get you something dry to wear."

"No you first, I'm not risking being alone with your mom right now. I'll just wait for you there."

"Okay but don't peek perv."

Once clean you pushed your girlfriend in the shower and got to your room to get her some dry clothes. You put them on the sink and got back downstairs to go talk to your mom.

"Hey sweety, already washed ?"

"Yes, Mina forced me to go first, she is afraid of being alone with you."

"I see, I'm the scary mother in law."

"Kind of yeah."

You laughed and sat beside your mom on the couch, taking a sip of the hot chocolate she made for you.

After few minutes of comfortable silence between you two she patted your thigh.

"I like her."

You put down your mug before looking at her.

"You didn't even got to know her yet."

"I don't need to after seeing you two kiss under the rain like teenagers in a romantic movie. I know I'm old but I can still recognise love when I see it."

You could only smile and blush a little at your mom's comments.

"I'll be going to bed it's getting late for your old mother, tell Mina to feel at home."

"Okay mom, goodnight."

You chuckled when few minutes after your mom entered her room, Mina started to climb down the stairs, seeking for her, already bent at 45°.

"She went to bed, you can go down."

You ate a late dinner with your girlfriend, she was slowly getting comfortable in your childhood house. Her frown now replaced by a small smile as she looked at you.

"Let's get to sleep baby, you must be tired after all the driving."

"Want to give me a back massage?"

She was teasing but you might end up complying, after all she drove you here, she deserved it.

You woke up to your girlfriend's laugh echoing through the corridor and into your room. You should have closed the curtains before going to bed because your eyes just got burnt by the sunlight hitting you in the face.

You turned in bed trying to bury your face in your girlfriend's neck with no avail since there was only cold air and an empty place at your side.

You got a little worried if she wasn't there where was she ? You hoped your mom wasn't for anything in Mina's disappearance. You didn't bother getting dressed, your pyjamas were too warm and comfy to be taken away from you.

As you crawled down the stairs, you heard your mom's voice talking to someone.

"That one was taken on vacation, Y/N was ten back then I think."

"Omg her swimsuit haha! What's that ?!"

You heard your girlfriend bursting out laughing.

"She chose it herself, yeah she wasn't a super fashionista at the time."

"She's so cute though."

You were now in front of the stairs behind the couch were your mom and girlfriend were sat.

"You should have it."

Your mom declared, getting a picture of you out of her photo album to give it to Mina.

"Are you sure ? I don't want to steal it from you.."

You melt when your mom smiled at your girl.

"I'm sure you'll take good care of her."

You saw the way Mina was restraining herself from crying and decided it was time for you to join them.

Hey, here is the request hope you'll like it 😊 Give feedback. Sorry for the time it took once again I tried to make it longer. ❤-Ael

[crowtrinkets]

A World Knowing You Aren’t in it

Prompt request from @mouselungs​ 

*forehead kiss* ty for that sweet sweet angst 

I wrote this at 1-2 am after watching a sad movie so uh yea I take my angst v seriously lol

Gender Neutral Pronouns for Apprentice, He/They Pronouns for Asra

Word Count: 2,208

I push my way into my shop, unwrapping my scarf from around my face. I take a deep slow breath of the not-so-fresh air mixed with dust and magical goods long since past their expiration. Wearing face coverings, just to go shopping in the market is necessary but I can't help but miss the days I could breathe in the fresh scents of spices and my favorite pumpkin bread without worry of getting sick.

"Asra? I'm back," I call out. I hear thumping traveling from the second floor and down the steps. A cloud of fluffy white hair pokes out from behind a curtain.

"Welcome home," he gives me a warm smile to which I return with my own.

"They were out of potatoes, something about merchants being scared of trade with Vesuvia," I follow them back up the stairs carrying my basket, sparse with groceries.

"I can't say I blame them," Asra mumbles to themself. I only hum in response, not wanting to push this topic further.

Asra has talked about leaving many times, but we had yet to do so, if we had the means we could but, there's no money in magic that can't heal a plague. Placing my basket on the counter of our kitchenette I pull out the food items I bought. Asra snatches an apple and bites into it but then grimaces.

"This apple is soft, like it's been left out," he goes to throw out the apple but I catch his arm.

"Don’t throw it out, if they're too soft I could make a cobbler or something out of them," taking the apple from Asra's hand I place it in a bowl with the other fruit I purchased.

"Oh, but they were out of sugar… maybe they're sweet enough on their own?" I mumble to myself.

"There's no need to go back out just for sugar, I'm sure we'll manage without it," Asra says with a smile that doesn't reach their eyes. They grab the lettuce I pulled from the basket out of my hand.

"Why don't I put these away while you go take a bath hmm? Wash the city air off of you," I give Asra a short nod and head off to the bathroom to wash up.

Suddenly feeling the weight of my day, running all the possible errands I can at once, so I am exposed less to the outside. I grab a towel from our tiny linen closet and pass by to give Faust chin scratches.

"Have you been bundled up here all day?" I question. She only responds by slithering closer so she can lean into my scratches. Her movement causes a blanket to fall, revealing a pile of books under it. My curiosity is piqued and I pick one up to read its cover. "Nopal Desert" it reads. I pick a map that was underneath it, depicting the better part of Vesuvia and surrounding territories. Nopal circled in ink. I hear Asra humming while he opens and closes the cabinets in the other room. I elect to bring it up after my bath.

The water is hot, almost too hot for my liking, but its burn soothes me in a way. Making me feel something other than the heavy burden that lays on the whole city's shoulders. I let myself sink down until the water cradles my head. Curling up so my whole body is submerged. I stare at the ceiling, watching the steam from the bath slowly rise, allowing condensation to sit on the wooden beams. I didn't bother to open the window so the bathroom could stay dry. I'll do that afterward. The water cups my ears, muffling the already quiet streets outside. My mind travels back to the books and maps I saw earlier. Was Asra trying to get us to leave? I explained in the past that I can't afford to pay rent on my shop and pay rent in a whole new area. Vesuvia is unsafe but the shop is my home, my lively hood. I can't give it up. I lie there, pondering and contemplating until the water has become lukewarm. My body aches after laying in the tub for far too long. After drying off my body and getting dressed I exit the bathroom, not bothering to stop my hair from dripping all over me. 

I walk towards my bed, finding the books and maps, untouched, and staring at me. I let out a frustrated sigh and collect the items.

I walk into the kitchen to find Asra nursing a cup of tea, and gazing out the window. They haven't noticed me yet. His eyes stare longingly out at the night sky. Sad and distant. I quietly approach and gently place the items on the table. Asra looks up at me in surprise. Neither one of us talks for a while. I clear my throat.

"What are these?" I motion to the map with the large black circle around the words that very obviously do not say Vesuvia. Asra places his cup down and fully faces me.

"Well I thought we could… stay there, I've heard the plague isn't present there and we could go, we could be safe and not have to worry about wearing face coverings just to go shopping," Asra's demeanor becomes meek the more he talks. I let out a sigh and collapse into the nearest chair.

"Asra I told you, I can't afford to keep my shop if I'm not here to work in it,"

"I can help you!" Asra says, straightening a little. "I-I've been painting masks to raise money, and we could go to Nopal for a few months, I could sell masks out there and you can have a makeshift shop in the desert," Asra reaches for my hand, taking it and rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. I give him a tired look.

"Asra, it's not that I doubt that you couldn't help me pay, it's just… Vesuvia is my home, our home, and I can't just leave at the drop of a hat like you," Asra winces and pulls away.

"Who knew you thought so little of me," he mumbles. I mentally kick myself for my choice of words.

"I'm sorry that’s not what I meant," I bring my head into my palm and lean my elbow on the table.

"What I'm trying to say is this is my home and I want to protect it so… I've decided I want to study medicine, to help with the plague," I look up to meet Asra's eyes. Their face pales and they sit back in their chair.

"Oh," is all he manages to say. I sit up fully and bring my hands into my lap, wringing them nervously together.

"I could use my magic to help too, and I want to be able to help the people, just like I did when I had people coming by regularly for magical ailments," I try to say something, anything to get Asra to stop looking at me the way he is. Scared, confused, frustrated, maybe even a little mad. He suddenly rises, his chair squeaking along the floor as it's pushed back.

"Asra please," I say barely above a whisper. Asra walks over the kitchenette and paces before turning to me, expression full of pain.

"That… That’s a terrible idea," he says. I suddenly feel taken aback.

"What wanting to help?" I say. Asra's face twists.

"You'll get sick, you'll… You will get hurt, you won't be safe!" he exclaims, starting to pace once again.

"There are people dying Asra I can't just sit around and let it happen! I want to do something, we can do something, we're both magicians!" I rise from my chair so I can fully face Asra as he frantically paces and runs his hands through his hair.

"How are we supposed to survive then, being exposed every day?" Asra looks me in the eye, his expression one of distress.

"Asra we're barely getting by as is," I motion to the bowl of fruit that I was organizing earlier. "The food isn't fresh, we have to go shopping all in one day so we don't risk exposure, and I am barely scraping by with my rent on the shop!" I let out an exasperated huff, folding my arms.

"I told you I would help you, I can sell masks, I can do fortune-telling just not here," Asra enunciates that last word by sharply pointing to the ground to make their point.

"I want to help, Asra… I want to be here," I shift awkwardly in place looking down at my feet. A lump begins to form in my throat, making it hard to breathe. Asra approaches me and places his hands on my forearms in an attempt to soothe me.

"Please, we can't stay here, let's just leave to where it's safe," He pleads, barely above a whisper. I slowly shake my head. Asra leans into me, trying to look into my eyes. His violet eyes, specked with tears in the corners.

"Why don't I help the people here? A-and you can stay home and make money off your painted masks," I say meeting his eyes.

"No, no no no," Asra begins to speak over me. He pulls away and faces his back to me, running his hands across his face.

"Asra I can't force you to stay here but you can't force me to leave," I say making my voice stern, hoping he understands my point. Asra quickly whips around tears falling down his face.

"Then how am I supposed to protect you!" he shouts. My breath hitches and I take a step back, my calves hitting the chair I was previously sitting on. The room grows eerily silent from his out burst.

"You can't protect me from everything, especially not this," I say, my own tears threatening to fall.

"Yes, I can! If you would just listen to me and leave! We could be safe," he approaches me, hands reaching out to me. I put my own hand up, stopping him from getting closer.

"Asra, I've made up my mind about this I'm not going anywhere," my chest aches, I want to leave with him, I want to leave because I'm scared. But I know I can help these people and I can't let my fears stop me.

"Please, you'll die," his voice cracks.

"If it saves the lives of even just a few people, then maybe was worth it,"

"No, you are too important to me!" they plead.

"Asra I have made up my mind! Nothing you can say will change it!" my volume begins to rise. Asra pleads my name and approaches once again gently grabbing my hands.

"Please it will kill you,"

"Asra..." my heart pounds in my chest.

"I can't live in a world knowing you aren't in it!"

"No Asra!" tears form in my eyes and my voice starts to crack.

"You will die-"

"Then death is better than this life we are living!" I shout. I didn't mean to. But I became so overwhelmed my temper flared-up. Asra takes a step back, releasing my hands.

"Is that how you feel," he says. I can't bring myself to answer, the lump in my throat has grown 3 times in size, swallowing my voice. "Very well," Asra turns away from me. Grabbing various clothing items as he goes. He disappears around a corner and I can hear him rummaging. I take in a painful deep breath. Wiping my tears as they fall. Asra comes back in with a bag, shoving items inside angrily, my eyes are too cloudy to fully see what he's doing but I can tell.

He's packing to leave.

"Asra," I croak. "Where are you going?" my voice comes out pathetically, as I try to compose myself. But my heart races in my chest. Asra ignores my question and continues to put items in multiple bags. All his clothes, his trinkets, their books. Anything they can carry.

"Asra please," I drag my feet as I try to follow him, but I can't stop the waterfall of tears escaping me. 

Asra finally stops in the middle of the room, passing me. He has multiple bags on both shoulders. I stand at the hallway entrance and watch him. Faust quickly slithers out from behind me, Asra crouches allowing her to climb up his arm. He takes his hat off the hook and places it on his head. I stumble towards him reaching out.

"Asra I'm… I'm so-" their eyes meet mine, cold, angry, pained. I stop in my tracks

"This is the grave you made yourself, I will not be there to watch you get buried," he says. His voice cracking. Without another word, Asra turns and goes down the stairs and into my shop. 

I can only gawk in silence, in disbelief that he actually left. The wall-shaking slam of the door breaks me from my shock. I grip the fabric of my top, just over my heart. Feeling as though it has broken in two. I sink to the floor and sob, harder than I ever have because a piece of my heart has left me.

[harryspet]

dimensions | peter parker

[Warnings] peter parker x reader, dark peter x reader, historical au, royal au, prince Peter, mentions of noncon sex, physical abuse, spanking, alternate dimensions, fluff, hella angst, alternate peter is basically ramsay bolton

A/N: This is an angsty idea from an anon “Angst thought: Peter's got a girlfriend he super likes but she gets switched with an alternate dimension's version of her who alternate him was the worst to (like one of your dark Peter fics bad) and she's terrified of Peter now”. I decided to make this like a historical au but it can basically take place at anytime in history.

THIS CONTAINS TRIGGERING MATERIAL AND ADULT CONTENT

main masterlist

word count: 2.7k

Wine dripped from his lips as Peter stared at you like a hungry wolf. What a beautiful prey you were. He was so lucky that he had decided not to kill you like the rest of your family. 

The kingdom you came from was made of sunlight. Sun dripped from the sun and kissed the skin of your people. You were a peaceful people. You had never seen war until you came to know Lord Parker. 

In Lord Parker’s part of the world, there was no sun at all. His fortress sat on a hill between a dark forest and a storm-ridden sea. His followers were loyal but this was because the family ruled with fear. They conquered and pillaged for power and your kingdom was just another line on his roster. 

You were nothing to him. Nothing except a toy. 

You scrambled backward, your back hitting the headboard of the bed you shared with him. Peter’s eyes trailed over the bare skin of your legs and up to the white nightgown you wore. He loved you in white, the contrast to your skin, and the innocence it represented. 

No matter how he tried to beat it out of you, that innocence was still there. 

Peter pulled the sheets all the way back and your body began to tremble, “My sweeting,” His words were kind but his intentions were anything but. He had his claws around your heart and you felt any wrong move would lead to him ripping it from your chest, “I recall informing you that you should refrain from speaking to my servants.”

Nothing. There were no words on your lips. 

Had Peter already diminished your fire? He thought he had mastered the art of pushing you all the way to the edge but not allowing you to fall over. 

The room was filled with grays and black, the only light in the room came from a few candles in the corner. You could hear the waves beating against the cliffs from outside the window. You let the cold hit your skin, allowing you to feel something other than sadness. 

Peter’s hands touched the mattress as his body leaned in closer, “You want to run from me, do you not?” You were frozen now. He cocked his head to the side, an evil grin decorating his handsome face, “That is why you asked your guard to help you escape. You thought he might take pity on you? Do you think the honey between your legs is that sweet? That any man would risk their lives just to taste it?”

Breathe, you had to remind yourself. Why had you done that? You should’ve known not to trust anyone. Anyone including those with sweet, forgiving eyes. 

Peter sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the large mattress. You recalled the memories of the last few nights. On your wedding night, he had forced himself inside of you with a force you couldn’t bear. You still ached between your legs. 

“I do try to be good to you. I try to be a good husband but … it seems the Gods have cursed me with anger …and your behavior lights that flame inside of me. Is it so much to ask that you be honest with me? To tell me what I hear is not true?”

Nothing. Again, no words escaped your trembling lip. Peter was starting to grow annoyed. He liked it better when you were screaming. 

“Answer me!” He screamed, causing you to hit your head against the wood as you flinched back, “You dare run behind my back!” Peter pounced, unable to resist the sweet touch of your trembling flesh. You resisted, but that only made the member in his trousers grow even more excited. 

Peter dragged you by the curls in your hair, forcing you to scramble forward until you were positioned across his lap. 

“My lord, please! Please, don’t!”

Peter smiled wide as he held you down, his elbow pressing into your back. “There she is! I knew my sweet princess was a fighter,” He pulled up the skirt of your dress, revealing your bare bottom. He could still see the evidence he left behind hours ago dripping down your thighs, “Continue to scream for me, my sweeting. I do enjoy your voice.”

You cried out, trying to wiggle from his grasp, as he landed several hard spanks to your bottom. You could feel it turning colors beneath his touch, the burning pain flowed through your body, “Please, please, I won’t do it again!” You begged, “I’ll be good!”

He didn’t stop until your bottom was raw and his own hand was bleeding. Tears streamed down your tired face, a complete look of defeat crossed your features, and ultimately satisfied Peter. 

“What is your name?”

You didn’t even remember anymore, “Nothing. N-No one. I am nothing but yours, My Lord.”

He dragged you from the bed though every step you took was like feeling fire against your skin. 

“No ones coming to save you!” Peter shouted as he dragged you out of the room, past your guards, and to the outside balcony that overlooked the entire fortress. Everyone was used to causing the scene with his cruelty so no one even batted an eyelash as you were pulled around like a ragdoll. 

He pressed you against the wooden railing, making you look out into the snow-covered court. The snow that was now soaked in blood. He was in pieces but you recognized him. It was the young guard you had talked to you. Stupidly, you asked him when the guards normally changed shifts in the compound. 

His legs were separated as well as each of his arms and then …. his head. His eyes were still open. “We cut off the head last,” As you closed your eyes, he pulled at your hair tightly, “He learned what happens when you try to steal my treasure. Treasure I bravely sought and retrieved on my own.”

It was all your fault. 

He was gone before Peter even stepped into that room. 

Your body was only protecting itself by shutting down and causing you to faint. Peter caught you as you fell into his arms.  

+

You awoke on a soft cloud. Everything smelt of sweet vanilla, even your hair. You touched your hair and found it longer and much softer than usual. Your eyes could barely adjust to the blinding light in the room. When were thing’s ever this bright on Lord Parker’s land?

Had he finally set the place ablaze with you trapped inside? The thought of it was delightful. You even considered closing your eyes again but, the room you were in, gave off an entirely different feeling than the fortress. 

You sat up in the bed and your mouth gaped as you took a look around. You stumbled as you stood up on the bed. The room was ginormous, even bigger than the over-sized bed. It reminded you of the great hall in the manor you grew up in … except it was a bedroom made of gold. 

You looked down at your body. This was not the white gown you were last wearing. There were no stains of blood or tears down the chest. There was also no burning on your skin, on your bottom or around your neck. 

You paused as the tall gold doors opened to the room. You stared as he entered, clad in a royal suit of blue, and wearing a smile. A smile? You had never seen him with a real smile, “Did you use to jump on the bed when you were younger?” He asked a tone you weren’t quite used to. It sounded pleasant, like there was happiness on his lips, “That was my favorite too.”

Had he slipped hallucinogens into your drink? Or was this just a nightmare of your own creation?

As he moved closer to the bed, you panicked, moving down to your knees, “M-My Lord,” You addressed him, your head tilted down. 

Peter paused, taking in your appearance, and his smile turned to concern, “Your Lord?” Peter asked softly, moving towards you. He reached for your hand and, although you didn’t pull away, he felt you shaking, “Y/N, what’s going on?”

You lifted your head, facing the demon, “W-Who is Y/N?” Peter searched your face for some symbol of amusement. He thought you might be pulling a prank on him but it was now clear that something was very wrong, “Where did you take me?”

Peter pulled away his hand, realizing he was only causing more unease, “I didn’t take you anywhere. This is my home. Our home. Should I call in the physician ...”

“We don’t live here …” You looked around the large room again.

“Y/N, do you promise me that this is not some sort of game?”

You shook your head quickly, “No games, My Lord.”

“My name is Peter. I am not your Lord …” Peter’s voice trailed off, his mind racing with concerned thoughts and confusion. Peter beckoned you with his hand, “Why don’t you come with me, Y/N? We will have a talk with May.”

A trick. This had to be some elaborate trick then. 

“I only talk to you, My Lord,” You assured him, “I won’t speak to anyone else, I promise.”

His eyes seemed to sadden. Sad? You’d only seen anger from him before, “Y/N, you can talk to other people. I am your husband but I do not control you. You have friends. You have a family.”

A sick joke then. You stared at him dumbfounded, before shaking your head, “You killed them. They were not worthy. You spared me despite my unworthiness.”

“I-I never-” Peter stopped himself, realizing that it was becoming useless to argue at the moment. You seemed to flinch at the slightest raise in his voice, “Walk with me, please?”

You were hesitant but you crawled from the bed, your bare feet touching the cool, marble floor. The fortress was grays and black. The fortress was soot and wood. This was a palace and the man before you were dressed like a prince. 

Peter noticed the distance you kept from it. Yesterday, you were madly in love with him. You held each other through every royal meeting and you spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms. He remembered how nervous he was when Tony announced the plans for his marriage but, the moment he saw you, he realized his luck. He was even luckier that you felt the same. 

You glanced around the long hallways with tall white walls and ginormous windows that gave a view of the sun over a calm sea. 

“What city is this?”

As the name of the city left his lips, your heart stopped. It was the same city you were kidnapped and taken to but you saw no sign of the darkness that you remembered. Had the darkness all been a bad dream?

+

The woman named May attempted to explain everything to you. She noticed your uneasiness around Peter and kindly asked to have a moment alone with you. You were frightened to speak out of turn, for fear of Peter punishing you, but the woman encouraged you to talk to her. 

She knew all about the kingdom you hailed from, about your family and your peaceful people. They were all alive, Peter’s forces never led an attack against them. In fact, your father and King Tony arranged the marriage between you two. Peter was a Prince. The prince of a kingdom that did not wage war against innocents.

She checked your vitals, not noticing anything that was physically wrong with you. You didn’t even have the scars anymore.

Despite all of this, the thing that made everything sink in was seeing your family. Both your mother and older brother had not returned back to your kingdom, and you were able to embrace them after believing you had lost them forever. 

+

Peter wasn’t sure what to think of everything. So much had changed that he wasn’t sure if he was looking at the same girl anymore. He didn’t want to be a villain to his own wife. He regretted that the bond that they now shared was indestructible. To divorce was a sin and they’d both be shamed by their countries. 

“I can find somewhere else to sleep tonight …” You looked up to Peter, seeing how he was trying to hide his sadness. Your chambermaids had prepared you for bed, bathed you, and put you into fresh nightclothes made of the softest silks. 

“It is your room,” You told him quickly, “I should not deprive you of the comfort … the comfort of sleeping next to your own wife.”

“I can tell you do not want me to, my love,” His words made your heart pang. Love. Did Peter love you? At least, did he love the old you? “I will allow you to have all the time that you need. I do not wish to be the source of your nightmares.”

Peter had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to change that fear she felt. 

“Please stay,” You told him as he made a move to leave, “I do not want to be alone.”

You had spent the entire day with your family, and now you just didn’t want to fall asleep in the silence. 

Peter thought for a moment, deciding his plan of action. You couldn’t help that your breath caught in your throat as he approached where you laid on the bed. He didn’t reach to touch you, only to grab a pillow. 

He laid it on the ground beside the massive bed and proceeded to make himself comfortable on the hard floor. You rolled over in the bed, looking over the edge at him, “The floor is no place for a prince, your grace.”

Peter instantly shook his head, “I do not know what you mean, my love. It feels great down here,” You could tell her was lying and a small grin pulled at your lips. He was willing to sleep on the floor just so you could be comfortable?

“Peter?”

Peter couldn’t help how his heart fluttered when you simply called him by his first name. He liked knowing before that you liked him as a person, not as an authority figure. 

“Yes, Y/N?”

“What kind of things did I use to like?”

Peter didn’t expect the question, but as the memories rushed, he couldn’t help but smile, “You loved your family. You always talked about them, about your people. You wanted everyone to know that you were a princess of two, great kingdoms, not just my own. You made sure they were never forgotten.”

You continued to listen as you pictured it. You hadn’t realized they were memories of your own. 

“You liked to garden. It reminds you of your time with your grandmother. You love the life you can create, the beauty you can make.”

A tear slipped down your face as you remembered the older woman. 

“You liked it when we went out on the boat and rode in the bay. You liked the sound of the ocean and the sun on the skin. You hated that we kept the fish we caught. You hated how they had to die and you insisted that we give them to beggars on the street.”

You realized that this wasn’t some past you that Peter was talking about. The girl he was talking about was still you. She just had a better chance at life. 

“You loved looking at the stars. You smiled for days when I showed you the telescope my father purchased from that French merchant, I swear it.”

“Peter, I-I am sorry,” Peter noticed you were crying and shot up from his spot, reaching to hold your hand, “You are nothing like him. You are nothing like him.”

“Do not cry, please,” Peter begged, rubbing soothing circles on your skin, “There is nothing to apologize for. Whatever this is, we will get through it.”

As his thumb brushed the tear from your cheek, you saw him clearly. You could look into those brown eyes and know he’d never hurt you. 

+

Hope you enjoyed! (Also sorry, please don’t ask for a second part)

[dontshootmespence]

As I Watched In Sorrow

Summary: After experiencing an unimaginable loss, Y/N floats through life, living for...she doesn’t know anymore. When it all becomes too much, she’s greeted by a woman in black with a deal so sweet, she can’t bear to let her grief and her morals get in the way.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 6,864

Warnings: Probably one of, if not the saddest thing I’ve ever written. Please heed the warnings! Suicidal thoughts and near actions, death of a child, betrayal, a crisis of faith/hatred for Chuck/God, brief mentions of sex, knives, self-hatred. Lots of shit.

A/N: This fulfills my entries to @stusbunker Lie to Me in Melody Challenge - a prompt from a Carole King song, “As I watched in sorrow, there suddenly appeared, A figure gray and ghostly beneath a flowing beard, In times of deepest darkness, I’ve seen him dressed in black, Now my tapestry’s unraveling - he’s come to take me back” and @covered-byroses​ 3k celebration with the prompt “shadow.” Shadow here is definitely more of an abstract than physical thing. Hopefully it works. Sorry to both of you that this took approximately 8,000 years. This takes place around season 8/9 solely for the fact that I needed the antagonist to have years of pent up rage toward the Winchesters.

Closed blinds did little to shield the slivers of morning light from burning her skin. As she tossed the blankets aside, she inhaled the stagnant air and closed her eyes against the sun. Though little, it was still too much. Turning off the lone lamp she’d forgotten the night before, she slowly ambled into the bathroom, popping open the familiar bottle and downing the necessary pills dry.

A glimpse in the mirror made her shiver. Her skin pallid and pitted, eyes sunken and dark despite the fact that she hadn’t worn makeup in weeks. Wetting her toothbrush, she propped the mirror open, unable to bear the reminder. Lazily, she pulled the brush across her teeth, more a societal necessity than a want or a need. She needed to grab food and it just wasn't okay to walk out of the front door without her teeth brushed.

Clothes didn’t matter though. The gray sweat-suit she wore to bed would do just fine. She dragged her gaze over the entirety of her bedroom, searching for her purse so she could go and get this over with. When the cursory glance didn’t lead to her bag, she began go through the other rooms - the kitchen, piled high with unwashed dishes and half-eaten tv dinners, the living room, where scattered dolls and a teddy dressed in a little pink tutu sat dutifully waiting for the return of their owner, the dining room, where she could practically still see her sitting, excitedly waiting for dinner. It wasn’t anywhere to be seen. 

Shuffling toward the front door, she looked in the coat closet, finding her hobo bag dangling limply next to the small, lavender windbreaker studded with unicorns. Had she not been in such a state after coming home the night before, she would’ve noticed it here, and put her bag somewhere else. She reached into the bag and opened the glasses case, slipping the oversized sunglasses over her eyes. Just because she needed to go out didn’t mean she needed or wanted to be assaulted by the sun. Why couldn’t it just leave her alone? Steady darkness had been her comfortable umbrella for weeks. Couldn’t the light just leave her be? Darkness was an old friend.

She stepped outside and locked the door behind her before heading toward her car. As a neighbor pulled out of their driveway, she glanced at a bumper sticker that hadn’t been there before.

When life gives you more than you can stand, kneel.

“I did,” she whispered.

----

Later that night, another half-eaten tv dinner was tossed on top of the already packed garbage can. Why was she even doing this? Continuing? Was there even a point?

She went through the motions, turning on the television to watch a TV show before she pulled the covers over her body once again. But it was useless. With more purpose than she’d had in weeks, she walked into the living room and reverently picked up the tutu-wearing bear, propping it underneath her arm as she gathered the remainder of her pills from the bathroom. She’d just refilled the prescription; it would be enough. 

Slipping back under the covers, she placed the bear next to where her head would lay on the pillow and reached for the pill bottle slowly, but with no hesitation. 

A faint whisper emanated from the behind her, where the overwhelming shadow of her apartment fought against the moonlight coming through the once-again closed blinds. 

“I can help you.” A whispery voice said, clearer than before.

“Great, I’ve lost my mind.” She heaved a heavy sigh and twisted the bottle cap open.

With a quick flap of what could only be described of as wings, a woman appeared behind her, emerging from the shadows. “I’m not here to hurt you,” she said softly, holding up her hands as a show of her promise. “I want to help you.”

“Who the hell are you?” She asked, getting up from the bed and backing toward the corner of the room. “Why are you in my house? Get the hell out.” To her disbelief, the other woman walked toward her, through the mattress, as if she wasn’t real. “I’ve gone insane,” she said, shaking, trembling fingers combing through her hair. “I’ve lost my mind.”

“You haven’t,” she countered.

“What the hell are you then?”

“I’m a Reaper. You can call me Tessa.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “What? Like the Grim Reaper?”

The brunette, wearing an unassuming combination of a leather jacket, black tank and ripped jeans, seemingly floated toward her, smiling. Softness radiated from her, welcoming, despite the situation. “That’s what you tend to call us,” she chuckled. “But we aren’t cold, hooded, evil figures. We’re only here to help you cross.”

Cowering in the corner, a realization began to come over her. “When we die. Is that why you’re here? For me?”

“No,” she replied, moving toward the bed and grasping hold of the teddy bear. “Truthfully, you aren’t supposed to die for a long time. I’m here because I think we can help each other.”

She shook with anger. “How could you possibly help me?”

Tessa lovingly stroked the teddy bear’s head. “I can give you back what you want most.”

Her heart skipped a beat, eyes glancing quickly at the worn stuffed animal. “That’s not possible. Why would you bring her back to me if your job is to ferry people to the other side?”

“Astute,” she replied. “Strictly speaking, it’s not something we’re supposed to do. Make deals with the living that is. As Reapers, we maintain the natural order, taking souls to where they remain for eternity because if they remain on this plane, many times, most times, they turn bad, shadows of their former selves. Order is what’s important.” Tessa paused, as if carefully considering her next words. “There are two men - brothers - that over and over and over again, defy the natural order.” The reaper’s voice became louder and louder as she spoke. “They cheat death. Time and time again. Those above me, my bosses so to speak, they don’t believe I can do my job anymore. And I’m at risk of losing it. You see, this is what I am. Without it, I’m lost.”

For the first time since this strange woman entered her home, for the first time in weeks, actually, she laughed. “So you’re about to lose your job and you want revenge on the people you can’t reap? Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” She ripped the teddy bear from Tessa’s hands and clutched it to her chest. “You take innocent five-year-olds from their mothers - to give to a God that strikes down someone so small and I’m-I’m-I’m supposed to care?!” She screamed, sliding down the wall toward the floor. “You and your God can burn.” Sobbing, she buried her head into the teddy bear, ignoring the looming darkness overhead. If she was to die right now, then so be it.

“Reapers have no allegiance to God. Frankly, I think he’s a heartless bastard.” She continued matter-of-factly. “But he is who he is and our job is simply to make sure these soul’s stay pure. Some we take to heaven, some to hell. Wherever it is they belong.”

“My baby?” She asked, chancing a glance at this creature disguised as a human.

“Heaven. I promise you.” Tessa crouched down to meet the woman’s eye. “Everyone has their own personal heaven. In hers, you’re there. Playing with dolls, snuggling in bed together, reading books. She’s happy.”

She clapped her hand to her mouth to stifle another sob. “Why her? She was just a baby. Why did I have to watch her wither away? Why?”

Tessa caressed her cheek with the pad of her thumb. “I don’t know. I can’t begin to understand His logic. But I can bring her back to you, just as she was, free of sickness. You can live a happy life together.”

“But you need me to kill someone.” The prospect hung heavily in the air. What did these men really do besides cheat death? Was that really such a bad thing? Wasn’t in human nature? Did they deserve to die? Her heart raced with possibilities. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? That you’ll keep your end of the bargain?”

Tessa held her hand out. “I’ll bring you to where her soul rests.”

Instantly, she was transported, at Tessa’s side, from her dim apartment, to a never-ending expanse filled with light. Doors came into focus. “You’re kidding,” she said. “Heaven is full of doors?” Tessa quickly walked her around corner after corner, ensuring they weren’t seen by anyone else, until they came to her door. “My baby.” Her fingers slid over the name on the door. And dates. 2008-2013.

“She’s in here,” Tessa whispered. 

Beyond the blinding light, a park came into focus - one she recognized. One she’d taken her baby to time and time again. From behind the playground, she ran, screeching with delight as her mother chased after her. She barely recognized herself. “This is her heaven,” Tessa said softly, her arm link with yours, almost like a friend. “She plays with you.”

“Can she seem m-?”

“No. Not the you standing here. That one is her projection of you.”

Filled with a resolve she hadn’t know since the moment her baby was placed in her arms at the hospital five years ago, she turned to Tessa. “What do I have to do?”

Tessa smiled, a small sigh of relief escaping her. She pulled a piece of paper from her jacket pocket. “This man will come into your life. I need you to let him in. He’s a strong man, but he’ll let his guard down with those he trusts. You need to be one of those people. Once you are, I need you to kill him. He disrupts the natural order, and we...have a history. He doesn’t trust me.”

“Why do I need to get him to trust me first?”

“That’s for me,” she admitted. “This history...he’s the reason I am where I am. It’s purely revenge on my part.” She loathed to admit it. 

“But I-”

Exasperatedly, Tessa held the woman’s face in her hands. “He has cheated death over and over again. And your daughter couldn’t. How is that fair?”

“It’s not,” she seethed, taking the paper from Tessa’s hands. “How long do I have? I’m assuming I’m on some kind of a timeline.” 

“One year,” Tessa replied. “If you can’t do it, the deal is void and I’ll find someone else who can help me.”

“I’ll do it. I promise,” she whispered. Before she knew it, she was back home and Tessa was gone. Unfolding the paper, she read the seemingly innocuous name.

Dean Winchester.

----

The following morning, she woke in her apartment, the teddy bear still firmly in her grasp. “Worst dream ever,” she whispered, sitting up in bed. She glanced toward the nightstand, where a piece of paper sat. Dean Winchester. 

“It wasn’t a dream?”

This man will come into your life.

So he’d just cross her path? She had to sit here and wait? 

Tired and dumbfounded, she pulled the laptop toward her lap and typed in his name, searching for some record of the man she was supposed to let into her life. A few Dean Winchesters came up, a character in a book series, a teacher out of the Midwest, an escaped convict accused of killing a number of women. Wonderful. None but the convict made an impression. Could this man, doing his best impersonation of Blue Steel after being accused of murder, truly be the one who crossed a Reaper? Cheated death?

Closing the laptop, she sighed, dropping her head into her hands. What the hell was she doing? How was she supposed to kill a man? A man she didn’t even know? “No, I can’t. I can’t,” she said emphatically. “This is insane.” It wasn’t real? Right? As if to prove her wrong, she felt a darkness at her back, heavy and insistent, but leading her toward the light nonetheless.

----

For the first time in weeks, she shrugged her army green coat on and headed out to the nearest bar instead of taking a bottle home from the supermarket and falling asleep after downing near all of it. Warm light bathed her as she walked through the door and sat at the far end of the bar. Her usual bartender, Zach, seemed surprised at her presence. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. What brings you back?”

“The quality booze,” she replied dryly. Some people wanted to pour their hearts out to their bartender, not her though. “Sick of supermarket wine.”

Thankfully, he didn’t push, instead bringing over her usual. Maker’s Mark neat. Sipping, she quietly hissed the burn, its warmth feeling different now, teasing. Maybe it was the fires of hell licking at her insides for what she was contemplating, the lengths she would go to in order to see her little girl again. 

The familiar, high-pitched bell chime alerted her to the presence of yet another patron of the bar. He came to sit a few seats away, ordering a whiskey on the rocks. When she looked up, she saw him. The Dean she saw in the mug shot - Mr. Blue Steel. 

Tipping the rest of her drink back, she swallowed her morals down along with the booze and eyed Zach for a refill. When Blue Steel caught her eye, she smiled and gave him a soft wave. He was cute. She could do this. She had to do this. Without her baby, there was nothing. He walked over, taking a seat on the stool next to her. “Hey. I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“Hi, Dean,” she said softly, taking the refill from Zach’s hand. “I’m Y/N.” She frowned into her drink before she continued. “My friends and family call me Sunshine.”

----

Dean was easy to talk to; smooth, like the bourbon she’d been sipping on for near an hour. He was open yet guarded. Secrets lay behind his eyes, just as they did hers. Though they hadn't spoken for more than an hour, she could tell he’d gone through more in life than others did in 10. Behind his mega-watt, ladies man smile sat years upon years of pain. “So Dean,” she started, swirling the amber liquid around in the glass. “What brings you to a bar in the middle of nowhere at 11:00 at night?”

“Bad day on the job...” He replied, gulping down a hefty swig of his own drink. “Really bad day. Just need to forget, you know?”

She nodded, understanding settling into the marrow of her bones. “More than you know, Dean. If you want to get anything off your chest, I’m all ears. Think of me as a sponge.”

“Thanks, Sunshine.” The nickname sounded foreign on his lips; she hadn’t heard it in so long. But from his pouty pink lips the name sounded comforting. She wanted to lean into it. “I’m not sure it’s something you would understand. I don’t mean that in bad way. Just...I don’t think you’d believe me.”

If the previous night’s happenings hadn’t occurred, she might have been shocked, but she wasn’t sure if she could be shocked now. This Tessa wanted Dean dead, so presumably Dean was involved in all manner of shit that she would’ve never imagined. “I’ve seen some shit,” she replied, tipping the last of her drink into her mouth.

Dean’s eyes scanned her quickly, as if assessing how much she’d actually seen and whether or not she could be trusted. “D’ya wanna go for a drive? There’s a lake about 10 minutes from here.”

This was stupid. Following a man she didn’t know, having seen his mugshot before, but there was an aura about Dean and it drew her in. Plus, she had to do this - for her baby. When she nodded, he held out his hand to her and smiled. Maybe he wouldn’t be a good man. Maybe she would be doing the world a favor. Something told her she wouldn’t be so lucky. As they walked to his car, she felt the darkness, the guilt, the shame, clawing at her back. 

----

Outside the bar, the moon hung near full in the sky. “This is my Baby,” he said proudly, running his hand along an old Impala. “Through everything, she’s been my constant.”

Dean opened the passenger side door for her and slammed it closed before sliding into the driver’s side like a hand into a glove. She could see he was made for this car. 

As the engine roared to life and they pulled out of the parking lot, Dean asked the one question she didn’t want to answer. But if she was going to get her back, she had to. “So, what brought you to a bar in the middle of nowhere at 11:00 at night?”

Taking a deep breath, she said her name. For the first time in almost two weeks. “My daughter.” She spoke so softly Dean almost couldn’t hear her over the rumble of the Impala’s engine. “I lost her 43 days ago. Cancer. She’d just turned five.”

“Fuck.” Dean smacked the wheel of the car. “I’m so sorry. No one should have to watch their kid go through that.”

A tear fell from her eye but she quickly wiped it away. “No, they shouldn’t. I hope you’re not a religious man, but...if God’s up there. He’s a dickhead.”

“I’m not a religious man,” he laughed dryly. “I have faith in humanity, most of the time, but God’s a vindictive asshole.”

She laughed and let her head hit the headrest just as they pulled up to the lake. The moon seemed closer here, silhouetting them as they walked toward the pier. “D’ya wanna talk about her?” He asked. “I’m all ears too.”

Sitting on a bench near the lake, she told him all about her baby girl. Her father hit it and quit it, leaving as soon as she found out she was pregnant. “I was petrified to raise her myself, but I wanted to be a mom,” she said, voice catching in her throat. “I brought her into this world by myself. I raised her myself. Worked two jobs to make sure I could give her the life she deserved. She was diagnosed with leukemia just after her 4th birthday.”

At first, she’d tried not to cry, but it was no use. “Sorry, I’m just-”

“Raw still?”

“Yea.”

“I get it,” he replied, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

She leaned into it, a warmth she hadn’t felt since her daughter insisted on a goodnight kiss the night God took her away. He wrapped his arm around her like this is exactly where they were supposed to be. “Anyway, she knew what was happening, even though she was so young. She was the one that kept me sane. Somehow. You wanna know what she said to me the night she died? Her last words?”

“What’d she say?”

“She’s the one who called me sunshine. She said my smile reminded her of sunshine. Before she fell asleep, she took my hand in hers and said ‘when I go to sleep, look at the sun and think of me. Then I’ll be with you every day.’”

She heard Dean sniffle and turned her head to see a tear fall from his eye. “It sounds like she was wise beyond her years.”

“She was.” Shaking her head, she pulled herself together and changed the subject. “What about you? What happened on the job that brought you to a random bar in the middle of the night?”

He was hesitant at first, asking if she believed in things that others thought impossible - ghosts, vampires, demons. Before Tessa, she would’ve said no, but now it seemed plausible. “I do.”

“I hunt them. The things that go bump in the night that no one believes in. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”

Her heart ached for him. Only a tragedy could get a young boy into such a horrific line of work.  

“Tonight, my brother and I lost a father and son because we couldn’t move fast enough.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” she said softly. She felt this innate desire to comfort him, to tell him he’d probably done all he could, but something in her told her Dean wasn’t the kind of man to rid himself of guilt with so few words. He carried it with him. “I really am.”

“Thanks, Sunshine.”

----

For the first time in weeks, she awoke the next morning to the burn of the sun, but her instinct wasn’t to shield her gaze. Instead, she craned her neck backward, hair slipping against the cool leather of Dean’s jacket. They’d fallen asleep on the bench. “Morning, Sunshine,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean for us to fall asleep on a park bench.”

“Me either,” she replied honestly. “But honestly it’s been the best sleep I’ve had in months.”

Dean grumbled in agreement. Apparently, he wasn’t much of a morning person. “Wanna grab breakfast?”

She hesitated a moment before her stomach entered the conversation. “I’d like that.”

At the diner, she ordered bacon and eggs and toast to Dean’s pancakes and bacon. Then they ordered an extra side of bacon to split because neither could get enough bacon. They didn’t speak another word of her daughter or his job. “Favorite color?” He asked. “Mine’s red.”

“Green. Three favorite foods? Obviously bacon is one.”

“Pizza and a big fat juicy burger.”

“Pizza and bacon, and then probably really good sushi.”

Dean made a face and they laughed. He liked grade-B horror movies and Disney movies, though he wouldn’t admit to the latter to many. She loved psychological thrillers and gross out comedies. “The really stupid ones that make you question your intelligence,” she laughed. “I like turning my brain off.”

As they paid, Dean pulled her close. “Maybe one day, we can watch one of those together. Order a pizza.”

“Meat lover’s?” She offered, handing him her phone so he could give her his number.

His smile shone brighter than the morning’s sunrise. “Is there any other kind?”

With ease, they strode out of the diner and back into the worn leather seats of the Impala. She still didn’t know this man, not really. He was a monster-hunting, leather jacket-wearing lover of bacon, pizza, crappy horror and Disney, but she didn’t know him. Yet, she gave him her address without a thought and allowed him to walk her to her front door. “Sunshine, with my job, my brother and I are kinda all over the place, but I’d like to see you again. If that’s okay with you.”

“That’s more than okay with me.” 

Dean returned her soft smile and slipped his fingers between hers, tugging her gently until her lips were mere millimeters from his. She glanced at them, inviting him to kiss her. Whatever she imagined him doing, he took her by surprise, pressing the most of chaste of kisses to her lips before pulling away. “I’ll talk to you soon, Sunshine. Okay?” He squeezed her hands in his, a further affirmation of his promise.

When he began to walk away, she called after him. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Anytime.”

----

It was nearly two and a half weeks before they saw each other again, but in the time apart, they texted and called nearly every day, each time letting the other in on a little more of who they truly were outside of their first meeting. “What do you miss most about being a kid?” He asked, voice low and whispery.

“Sam sleeping?”

“Yea,” he replied with a yawn. “I’m not tired yet.”

“You sound it,” she said. “Would it be too cliche to say not having to pay bills?”

Dean chuckled. “Yes, I mean something that tells me something about you.”

“There was a lake nearby my house when I was a kid. Well, not nearby, more like a couple hours away. But my parents would take me there a couple times a year. We’d build sand castles and look for seashells. I miss that. What about you?”

“I didn’t really have much a childhood. I was learning how to hunt before I turned 10. When we were young though, I read to Sammy a lot. Help him get to sleep, you know? I miss that.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Don’t be. It’s in the past.” This time he yawned so hard he could no longer deny that he needed to pass out for the night. “We’ll be passing through in a couple of days. Can I take you on an actual date?”

Smiling sadly to herself, she rested her hand over her tightening chest. “Looking forward to it.”

----

As promised, Dean showed up at her door two days later with a bouquet of flowers in hand. “How did you know these are my favorite?” She asked, inhaling the sweet scent. 

“Educated guess. Now, we’re gonna go to one of my favorite burger joints-bar-tavern things in the area. They have this killer bacon cheeseburger with an egg grilled into the middle of it that you have to try. They also have pool, so I can teach you how to play.”

During one of their nightly phone calls, she asked them how they made a living doing what they did. Hustling pool, the occasional credit card fraud. You know, the usual, he’d laughed. 

You’ll have to teach me.

“Sounds amazing.”

Reaching into the closet for her jacket, she glanced at the small purple coat, still hanging there, and felt her heart skip a beat. How was she able to go out and smile and have fun barely two months after losing a piece of her heart? It felt so wrong. And yet being with Dean felt so right, so natural. 

He’s a strong man, but he’ll let his guard down with those he trusts.

She swallowed back bile and quickly pulled her jacket out, closing the door against realizations and realities she couldn’t indulge. Plastering a fake smile across her face, she slipped the jacket over her shoulders and allowed herself to believe for one moment that life wasn’t as cruel as it seemed to be. 

----

“Sunshine, I think you might be the perfect woman,” Dean laughed.

At that moment, she was acutely aware of the grease running down her chin. “What this whole, chipmunk look with food in my mouth, guzzling beer is a turn on for you?”

Dean licked his lips and took another bite of his own burger. “Yup.”

“I can’t help it, this might be the best burger I’ve ever had. And that’s saying something.” 

“I told you,” he laughed. It didn’t take long for them to finish their food. “Burger is filling, but they have killer pie too. Wanna split a piece?”

She nodded and watched as Dean easily flagged down the waitress and asked for slice of “good ol’ apple.” “The best one they have, followed closely by cherry.”

Dean looked horrified when she grimaced. “Not a big cherry fan. Blueberry, peach, apple. That’s about it on the fruit pies.”

Less than two minutes after the pie came to the table, it was gone. “We should probably go,” Dean said, craning his head back to the door where a line of hungry dinner guests were waiting. “I think our waitress might kill us if we stay any longer.”

Chuckling, you stood up and reached for your wallet before Dean insisted he pay. “First date, remember?”

“Thanks, Dean.” 

Hand in hand, they walked out the diner and toward the Impala. It was so easy to be with him and more often than not he found herself smiling when he was nearby. But she didn’t have the luxury of falling in love, not if it meant she never got to see her daughter again. 

Tessa said he needed to trust her before...before she did it. “Up for a surprise?” She asked.

Dean raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. “Sure, I never get surprises anymore. Where to?”

Without telling Dean what she was up to, she directed him where to go. Less than five minutes later, she approached a park - the same one she used to take her daughter to. “I used to take my daughter here,” she said, zoning off as a vibrant picture played before her eyes. A little girl in a yellow dress ran across the grass and toward her favorite slide. “Sorry. Got lost in a memory.”

Dean’s easy-going smile from earlier faded away when he saw the sadness in her eyes. “We don’t have to be here,” he offered, looking back toward the car. 

“No, it’s okay.” It really wasn’t. But it was a reminder of why she was here, why she was doing exactly what she was doing despite the darkness eating at her from the inside out. “I wanted to share. There’s no one here at night.”

Dean chuckled and pulled her in to kiss her before running onto the playground set like a giant child. He ran up the metal slide and stuck his head out through a tube. “Come on! Let’s play!”

Allowing herself the opportunity to let go, if only for a moment, she ran up to meet him and chased him around the small area before she tripped and fell, bringing her down with him. “Been a while since I’ve been a kid,” he said, helping her up. They sat on the wood mulch of the playground underneath the slide and he pulled her close. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem.” For a moment, she hesitated. “You said you used to read to Sam right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Did anyone ever read to you?” When she looked back, she saw sadness in his eyes. “No?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“Close your eyes.”

Without hesitation, his eyelids fluttered closed. She reached into her pocket for her phone, hand shaking at the intimacy of the moment and the pain she felt. As she read - Vonnegut, considering he’d mentioned it in passing during one of their phone calls - he relaxed into her. Eventually, his head lay in her lap, her fingers twirling his messy brown locks. Hours passed. The only reason either noticed was due to the placement of the moon, now bouncing off the slide and onto the metal of a nearby bench. 

Dean sat up, sleep pulling at his eyes as he kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Sunshine. I can’t remember the last time I felt that relaxed.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she replied, softly. “Me either.”

----

Two months passed before they saw one another again, but not a day went by with at least a text. Sometimes it was just “I’m okay. Still alive,” other days they were able to actually talk, asking each other the most random questions in an attempt to know one another inside and out. “Hey, Sunshine,” Dean said as she opened the door.

Smiling, she allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace, his lips finding hers. “Hello to you to, Dean. I’ve missed you.” In the months since they’d seen each other, she’d made an attempt to clean her home. TV dinners were no longer piled up in the kitchen. Garbage was taken out when it needed to be. Occasionally, she would even open the blinds. Still, her daughter’s bear sat on the windowsill as a reminder of what she needed to do. 

Dean was unlike any other man she’d ever met and with him, she found herself content, even happy. But what did that say, if she allowed herself the happiness her little girl never got to experience? 

“Now, I know I said a couple days ago that we’d go get a bite to eat, maybe take a drive, but then I got an idea. Trust me?” There was a boyish glint in his eyes she couldn’t deny. 

Her mouth dropped open when she saw him remove a blindfold from his back pocket. “Kinky!”

“Not like that...not yet,” he replied, eyes full of hope. 

Dean wrapped the blindfold around her eyes and led her to the car. He would entertain a single question about where they were headed until shortly later, he stopped, picked her up out of the passenger seat and placed her on the ground before removing the material covering her eyes. “We’re at the beach,” she whispered in disbelief. “You remembered.” Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, emotion running wild. Despite the beautiful weather, the shadows nipped at her feet.

“Of course.” He crouched down to kiss her and wiped the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “I made macaroni salad, pie, and I brought all the fixings for the perfect burger, which I can make on this.” He pulled out a small grill. “My George Foreman! This is the best thing in the world.”

As promised, Dean made delicious bacon cheeseburgers with a runny egg in the middle, just as they’d had at the diner months before. After every ounce of red meat was gone, they walked along the beach, toes in the sand and looked for seashells. Given that the nearest real beach was hundreds of miles away, seashells were a rarity, but it was perfect nonetheless.

The sun began to set, blue giving way to purples and pinks as they swayed together on the beach. “My place,” Dean started, “The place I share with my brother between cases, it’s about a half hour from here, do you want to-?”

“Really?” She asked. Her stomach dropped. He trusted her. Enough to bring her home, to the place he shared with his brother, the only other person in world he cared for. “You sure?”

“I am.”

If only she was too.

----

Despite how much Dean talked about him, Sam wasn’t what she expected him to be. She grasped his outstretched hand and feigned shyness, unable to look him in the eye knowing what she would eventually do. “Dean talks about you all the time,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I knew you had to be some kind of woman.”

“Dean’s told me a lot about you. Mostly good,” she replied with a smile. “It’s great to finally meet you, Sam.” 

After she said goodnight, Dean led her down the wide hallways of what they called “the bunker,” his hand heavy and insistent on the small of her back. Inside, he backed her up against the wall, against the shadows, and captured her lips in a kiss so delicate and sincere she would’ve collapsed were it not for him. 

In spite of herself, she sunk into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to bed. He trusted her. She knew it in the way he touched her, moaned her name, drank her in. But mostly she knew it in the way he fell asleep peacefully at her side that night.

----

On the morning after their night together, Dean had practically begged her to move into the bunker. “When you leave, I miss you. I hate...being without you.”

She’d been hesitant, but with each excuse he’d countered it. “You make me happy, Sunshine.”

Everything in her had screamed to run, but the earnestness in his gaze pulled her in and she’d complied. While they were away on cases, she would walk around the bunker, gaining more and more insight into the man she’d fallen in love with. Tessa had to be wrong. Dean was a good man - the best she’d ever met.

Screaming into the cold concrete walls of the bunker, she called for Tessa. “I know you’re watching me, you bitch! Answer me!” She slammed her fists against the wall, but no amount of pain could make her feel. “Where the fuck are you?!”

Barreling through the halls like a storm, she gasped when she turned the corner to see her there - the same determination emanating from her as the night they’d met. “Having second thoughts?”

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed, falling to her knees in front of the reaper. “Dean is not the man you think he is. He doesn’t deserve this.”

Disdain radiated from each word. “You only know the man he claims to be.”

“No! I know him. He’s kind. He’s gentle. He does what he does for love. And if he crossed you it’s because you deserved it.” Tears streamed down her face.

Tessa’s gaze melted from soft and endearing into furious and frightening in a matter of seconds. Picking her up by the throat, Tessa tossed her back against the wall. “You’ll follow through on our deal or I will alter it. Get rid of him and you will get your daughter back. She’ll be just as she was and the two of you will live a happy life together. Go back on your promise to me and I will make sure your daughter’s spirit rots in hell for the rest of eternity!”

Sobbing, she clawed at Tessa’s hands. “My daughter did nothing to deserve this! You-”

“BUT DEAN HAS!” She bellowed so loudly it felt as if the walls shook. “And I will use whoever and whatever I need to make him pay.”

“You can’t. You said yourself your bosses don’t trust you anymore!”

“True.” She spoke coolly, her fury gone and replaced with something along the razor’s edge of composure. “But they want Dean dead as badly as I do, if not for the same reasons. Get rid of him, Sunshine,” she said mockingly. “Or I will find someone who will and your daughter will burn.” Without another word, she left her trembling on the floor of the bunker, shadows closing in from every angle.

----

As the weeks passed into months, she awoke each night, screaming, picturing her daughter calling out for her from the fires of hell, begging for her to save her. Dean would lull her back to sleep with made-up stories he used to tell Sam and fervent kisses that said what he couldn’t. 

With the deadline looming large, she tried to think of any way to get the job done. At first, she thought of drugging him with pills. An entire bottle would do the trick and he would fall asleep not knowing the monster that shared his bed, but Tessa wouldn’t allow it, appearing to her again. “I can’t get near him, but you can.”

She was in over her head. Her choices were slim. Either tell Dean, bear the brunt of his hatred and never see her daughter again, or do as Tessa commanded, hate herself and save her daughter’s damned soul. Self-hatred streamed through her veins, but she had no choice.

What started as “kill him in whatever way you can” had morphed into Tessa brandishing a knife she was to use. Every time she tried, pulled the knife from her pocket and attempted to do the unthinkable, she saw his green eyes fade away into darkness. For weeks, she made herself ill, throwing up every day and shivering to sleep in Dean’s embrace at night.

Dean thought she’d been cursed as a way to hurt him, but they couldn’t find any evidence. They’d taken her to the hospital, but unsurprisingly she’d had a clean bill of health. Only she knew the cause of her pain.

“Come on, Sunshine” he said excitedly, “I have a surprise for you.” 

Taking his hand, she followed him out of the bunker to a clearing in a forest just a short way away, where he had another picnic, like the one so many months before, set up underneath the stars. “It’s been 11 months since the first night we met. I probably should’ve waited for a full year, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Awash in darkness, she began to cry. He pulled her close and they began to sway, a clumsy dance that brought a smile to his face. There was no time left. Reaching into her pocket, she grasped the handle of the knife. “I’m sorry, Dean.” Before she could stop herself, she plunged the blade into his chest. 

He grabbed the blade, hissing in pain as she pulled herself away. “Why?” He choked, hands shaking around the knife’s handle. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she sobbed, backing away. “I had no choice.”

A moment years in the making, Tessa made herself known, kicking his phone away before he could call for help. “How does it feel, Dean? Knowing the woman you love betrayed you?”

With a self-satisfied smile, she disappeared momentarily, only to reappear with her baby girl at her side. Dean made the connection. “I could’ve helped you. I would’ve...I-”

Tessa ushered her away, demanding she run as Dean fell to the ground. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, holding her daughter tight to her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mama. I’m okay.” She remembered nothing.

Through the tear-stained forest, Sunshine ran from the light - the memories of Dean’s touch, his soothing voice, his gentle kiss - and into the darkness, her constant.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

This Sarah Everard case is so terrifying for women. But not only am I terrified - I am furious.

⚠️ tw for mentions of r*pe, sexual assault, violence against women, murder etc. ⚠️

She was just walking, including walking by busy roads and not dark alleyways. She was dressed in winter clothes. Even if she HAD walked down a dark alleyway or been wearing something short or “revealing”, she still wasn’t doing anything wrong - she was just walking somewhere.

Her murderer - a police officer named Wayne Couzens - plotted to murder a woman to live out his perverse fantasy. He didn’t plot to kill a specific woman - he knew he would murder a woman, any woman he thought he could abduct, any woman who would be out at night on her own. Sarah was just there.

Not only did he drive miles and hours to kill a woman, not only was he a police officer… he used his badge, police belt, handcuffs and credentials to fake arrest her to get her into his car. If a police officer tells you to go with them, we’re told to not resist, to be obedient or we will be in even more trouble. Even if she HAD done what the MET have just said women should do - “question non uniformed officers!” - it wouldn’t have helped her because he was a police officer. He had the credentials. Why would she run away and resist a police officer? And if women do resist, the police commit violence against them (like at the Clapham Common vigil for Sarah).

He handcuffed her, drove her for hours, then raped and murdered her. This fucking monster strangled her with his fucking police belt. He burnt her body and disposed of her in a pond.

A police officer did this - a fucking police officer, a MET officer, the MET we’re supposed to trust. And you want women to trust them?!!

And I don’t want to hear that “don’t judge the whole profession based on one bad apple”, because guess what? This is not the first time a police officer has harmed a woman. There is misogyny rooted deep in the MET that needs to be addressed. Wayne Couzens was literally nicknamed “The Rapist” by other police officers and had offended in the past by flashing people, and that’s just what we know of - and yet not a single person did anything. The police joked about it. Several officers gave character references supportive of Couzens during the hearings for his sentencing, and female officers told the press that they did not feel as if they could report concerning behaviour by male colleagues.

It’s thought that at LEAST 15 serving or former police officers have killed women in UK since 2009, and HUNDREDS of UK police officers have convictions for crimes, including assault. There are many cases that do not go reported, and so it’s likely the numbers on both counts are actually higher. Why are they still allowed to serve? Why is our government giving them more power and freedom to arrest whoever they please? “It’s not that many” - IT SHOULD NOT BE ANY.

If you can’t see why there’s a huge problem with our police force and why we say “fuck the police”, you’re part of the problem.

And the fear and anger we feel isn’t new - this has been a problem for literally all of our lives.

At 11, I learnt to come home before dark, and if it was dark in the winter on my way home (meaning: every night in winter), I was taught to not go down any dark lanes, and if I was walking the dark lane I had to go down if I got the bus home, I was to walk as fast as I could and to not have earphones in because i wouldn’t hear attackers. Every day from September 2009 to July 2014, coming home from secondary school, I was told to either wait for my dad or grandad to pick me up or to walk down the busiest road that ran near my house and had constant cars on it. I couldn’t take the shortcut down the public footpath on my way home from sixth form college because it was too dark and isolated - I had to go around it and through the village instead, which took more time but was vaguely safer. Since university, I’ve made a point of waiting for the hourly bus that stops just round the corner from my home and on the busiest road, even though I have to wait up to an hour for it usually, because getting the bus that comes every 15 minutes means walking up the dark quiet lane.

At age 13, I learnt not to talk to even very friendly men, even not in broad daylight, even with a female friend, when some old man approached us and started complimenting us, telling us we had “nice smiles” and “I can hook you up with someone who can help you get into acting” and “here’s £10, you go down to the garage down the road and get whatever you girls want”.

At 14, I learnt not to sit in trees in the park by the gate, not even during the day when it’s sunny, when an old man entered the park, took one look at me, and said “you’ve got a nice arse”. I couldn’t prove he had said anything, and I would see him on my way to school sometimes and panic.

At 19, I learnt that I could not trust friendly men online. Apologies to any decent men I have spoken to online - there’s a few who are nice and not weird, I’m not talking about them. I learnt this when a guy I was speaking to on my old blog - who had for weeks just been generally nice and checking in on me - started to send intimate and sexual messages that started with “*hugs you*” and became “*spanks your ass*”, “takes your clothes off”, “f*cks you hard”, just to name a few (and these were the milder ones). When I asked his age, he merely said “older” than me - “more than twice as old as you”, actually. I learnt to not talk to men online, and if I did then I had to set very clear boundaries in a way that wasn’t too obvious - not say it outright but make it clear I am “unavailable”.

I have to carry a rape alarm on my keys, just in case. I could go out to bars if I wanted to, I could have at university when all my peers were - but doing it meant risking the chance of being harmed while intoxicated or on my way home. I have to send my location to my mother if I get any Ubers, if I go out to theatres or cinemas in the evening I have to text my mum to say I’ve arrived safe. I only feel safe out at night if I’m with a man that I trust like my dad or grandad - I got very lucky at Uni because not only did one girl make sure I got home safely at 1 in the morning by calling me a cab, but one boy even stayed with me on another night until my dad arrived to pick me up, because he knew leaving me intoxicated at 2:30 in the morning was dangerous. I have even phoned my grandmother while walking home in the dark because being on the phone to someone means you’re less of a target to an attacker.

Men do not have this experience - or, if they do, it’s nowhere near the fear and worry women feel every day. Women can’t even walk somewhere without being worried of being attacked - we cannot go anywhere without asking ourselves “am I safe?”. Are we wearing the “correct” clothing, so as to not give off the wrong idea? Are we walking down the well lit roads where it’s busy? Are we aware of our surroundings, of every single person nearby? Do I have my keys in my hand, ready to defend myself if I’m attacked? Women are blamed if we are attacked - not men, but women. “She was dressed slutty” “she was passed out drunk” “she was walking down a dark lane” “she was out late”.

When doing safe guarding training at my current TA job, I came across this phrase: “always think it can and will happen”. Just as a teacher or TA should not think “none of my students will be victims of abuse”, women should not for one second believe that they are safe and “it will never happen to me” - every day we have to think of how to prevent our own assault or murder, just in case.

Every time I’m walking home in the dark, I have the fleeting wonder of “what picture(s) of me will they use if I’m attacked or go missing?”. I was not really surprised when I saw that other women said the same thing. Women wonder it so often it’s almost a joke, an absent minded thought. But it’s not a joke - it’s real life for us, every single day.

Sarah Everard is not a one off case. Sabina Nessa, a 28 year old primary school teacher, was murdered on 18th September this year, her body discovered the next day by a dog walker. So far in 2021, 110 women have been murdered in the UK by men (or men are the prime suspects). Only a handful get national attention because at this point, violence and murder against women have become normalised in this country.

I am not only heartbroken for all of these women and their families - I am scared for my own safety; I am scared for the safety of my mother, my grandmother, my aunts. I am scared for the safety of my 20 year old sister, the safety of my 17 and 14 year old cousins, for the safety of my older male cousin’s two daughters who are only 4 and 1. I am scared for the safety of every single girl and woman I have worked with, the safety of every woman I have ever spoken to.

But I am also furious and filled with rage. Women should not be scared to go out or have fun, we should not have to take such precautions or measures that still won’t completely prevent our assaults or murders. I am sick and tired of the victim blaming when a woman is murdered, of the indifference of “oh another woman”, of this being how women are expected to live their lives.

I’m tired of this problem being ignored by our government, tired of no one giving a shit about us or our safety.

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 6

AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Taglist @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings

It took less than ten minutes to discover the identity of the boy from the lake. As soon as they had arrived home, Lucie had started up her laptop and searched for missing children in the area. There was a boy called Steve Johnson, twelve years old. Lived in the village, just like the boy had told her. Had gone missing only a week ago. Lucie skimmed through the newspaper article. She’d thought the boy might have been dead for some time already, but he had been only dead for a week. She suspected he’d drowned the day of his disappearance. The article mentioned that the boy was a competitive swimmer, which explained why he hadn’t considered the danger in going swimming alone, but still, how likely was it that a competitive swimmer drowned in a lake that was perfectly safe for swimming? There were no dangerous currents, no weeds one could get trapped in. Drowning was always a risk, but in this lake, Lucie would only expect that to happen to people who couldn’t swim very well. Definitely not the case with this child. Exhaustion, then? But there was an island in the middle of the lake, and it wasn’t big. Anywhere he could have been, he should have been able to swim at least someplace he could stand in the water.

The boy had said something about how every time he tried to swim close to the shore, he’d appeared someplace else. Lucie wasn’t sure if she should believe that, ghosts tended to be confused about their deaths. Many didn’t remember dying at all until they realized what they were, and even then Lucie had heard some odd stories that couldn’t possibly be true. It was usually more believable that dying played tricks on the memory. But if that were true, if something had trapped the boy in the lake, then it would make sense why a competitive swimmer had drowned.

‘If he drowned and no one found out what happened, then his body must still be in the lake, right?’ Cordelia asked.

‘I think so. Someone should go looking for him. If the police know he’s in the lake, they should be able to find him. The problem is, how do we let them know where to look? I can’t exactly go to the police station and tell them I spoke to his ghost.’

‘We can send an anonymous tip,’ Cordelia said. ‘Maybe claim we saw him go into the lake around the time he disappeared.’

Lucie frowned. ‘Would they believe someone only called now a week later?’

Cordelia shrugged her shoulders. ‘Could be that we didn’t recognize him at first, we don’t know the child. But after looking at the missing posters, we realized this was the child we saw go into the lake to swim on the same day he disappeared.’

Lucie started rubbing her wrist, something she usually did when she was nervous. Then something occurred to her. ‘If he went swimming and never returned, then he must have left his belongings somewhere, right? A bag, some clothes, at the very least a towel. There was nothing at the beach.’

‘Lots of places where he could have entered the water,’ Cordelia said. ‘Most would be hidden from sight, so a bag or towel would not attract attention there. You mean to say someone might have taken his belongings to cover it up?’

‘Maybe. Or maybe he put the bag somewhere hidden from sight and no one has stumbled upon it yet. I’ll call with an anonymous tip, and claim I just saw a missing poster and realized I saw that boy go into the lake, that he might have drowned.’

Lucie was sick with nerves, staring at the phone. Princess Lucinda, a fictional and much braver version of Lucie, might never have heard of a phone, but she would not be scared to make a simple call if she knew how. But Lucie was terrified of making phone calls. She knew it was a stupid fear, but it was so unpredictable what might happen after someone picked up. What they’d say, what she was supposed to say, how loud someone else was going to sound through the phone. If she could even understand what they were saying, no matter how loud someone was, Lucie often struggled understanding speech through a phone.

‘Do you want me to make the call?’ Cordelia asked.

‘I can do this,’ Lucie said, more to herself than Cordelia, and she picked up the phone and called the police station.

She hung up as soon as she was done, she wanted to avoid questions she couldn’t answer. Police received anonymous tips all the time, right? Would they be looking already? Would they find him?

‘Can we take a walk?’ Lucie asked. ‘For distraction.’

‘That’s alright,’ Cordelia said. ‘Do you think Thomas and Alastair are still out there? Alastair used to take walks of several hours, he can probably spend an entire day there and not get tired of it.’

‘Funny. Thomas did the same thing. His attempt to get away from overprotective family members,’ Lucie said. ‘I’m sure they’re having fun.’

Lucie knew Thomas’ family worried for him because he used to be so sick, and his parents and sisters had never really left the pattern of Thomas being the small sick boy who needed to be cared for. Thomas greatly valued time alone because of that.

Lucie quickly went into her bedroom and changed into something more practical for a walk. When she returned downstairs she noticed a note her parents had left, she’d been so preoccupied with finding out who that boy was she hadn’t seen it at all. Her parents had gone grocery shopping and would be away for some time since the village didn’t offer much vegan food. A couple of months ago, Thomas had decided to go vegetarian because he liked animals and cared about the environment and Lucie had decided to surpass him by trying a vegan diet instead. Thomas couldn’t stay behind and had joined her, leaving two sets of exasperated parents desperately trying to figure out what they could still feed their kids. Both Lucie and Thomas were ridiculously stubborn, so any attempt to change their minds had been in vain. Fortunately, the UK was one of the easiest countries to find vegan food. Lucie was especially proud of Thomas, she knew he struggled with making choices for himself that inconvenienced others and this was something he’d chosen for himself.

Lucie and Cordelia walked into the woods, and Lucie made sure to take in the atmosphere. If this were a scene in her novel, how would she describe the trees? They were tall, for sure, thick, allowing little light to pass through. There was lichen growing over rocks and trees. There was a fog that was worst in the morning but never quite lifted. If this were a scene in her novel, Lucie definitely would mention the fog. It was both beautiful and eerie, the backdrop for a dark or scary scene. There were some birds in the trees, Lucie couldn’t see them, but she could hear them. If the scene became creepy enough, they would fall silent.

‘Is there always a fog here?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Usually,’ Lucie said. ‘I’m not sure why, weather science is not my expertise. It’s worst in the morning. Makes for a nice atmosphere though. Mysterious, eerie.’

‘Creepy,’ Cordelia added.

‘That too,’ Lucie said. ‘If I ever write a gothic or horror novel, this forest shall certainly serve as inspiration.’

‘Now I’m getting nervous,’ Cordelia admitted. ‘What kind of creatures do you think hide here?’

‘Oh, probably nothing,’ Lucie said.

‘Well, if something attacks us I’ll have cortana to fight it with,’ Cordelia said.

‘You brought your sword?’

Cordelia put her hand around her golden necklace. Lucie realized she always wore that necklace, but it had never occurred to her that it was cortana.

‘It changes shape?’

‘Exactly. I can’t exactly walk around carrying a sword, so it changes into a necklace I can wear daily,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’ve never really used it to fight something, but if we are attacked, I can defend us.’

‘Has it always changed into that necklace? Now I’m picturing your father or uncle Jem wearing it,’ Lucie said.

Uncle Jem could look well with it, she guessed, but she couldn’t picture Cordelia’s father wearing a necklace.

‘It changes into something different for each of us. For my father, it was a fancy golden watch. For uncle Jem, it was a jade pendant.’

‘Has Alastair ever carried cortana?’ Lucie asked, curious what it would change into for him.

‘No,’ Cordelia said. ‘He did want it when he was maybe fourteen, but the sword chose me over him. I think he later realized it wasn’t for him anyway. He has his daggers in case something really bad happens, but apart from that he’d rather stay away from the dangerous parts of the supernatural.’

Lucie wasn’t sure what she wanted, if given a choice. Sometimes ghosts could be unsettling, especially when she discovered they had passed recently or asked her if she could solve their murders. She wanted to be a writer, not a hero, but at the same time, she liked being able to see people when no one else could and she liked solving mysteries. She liked being able to help, to give the ghosts some power. Unfortunately, many ghosts needed things she could not give them and reading them parts from her stories didn’t typically help them move on. Some did give useful feedback though.

‘Are his daggers magic too?’ Lucie asked. ‘Like cortana?’

‘I don’t think they can kill anything like cortana does. We don’t know, some are old and have a rich history and for all we know they were magic. Neither of us have been willing to test that though, and Alastair keeps them because he likes collecting them, he doesn’t intend to fight with them if he doesn’t have to.’

Lucie didn’t know the particulars of killing supernatural creatures, and according to her father much of it was trial and error. Cortana was special in that regard, since it guaranteed to kill anything, but for others they would just have to hope whatever weapon they have does something.

‘Do you think they have started looking already?’ Lucie asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Cordelia said. ‘Missing children usually have a high priority, so I guess they would have started already. Searching a lake for a body might take some time, even a small lake like this one.’

‘What are you doing here?’

Lucie and Cordelia turned around to see Alastair and Thomas. Alastair really looked tiny next to Thomas despite being average height, she thought. They both looked like they’d been here for a while, a bit sweaty, Thomas’ face flushed. Alastair’s usually meticulously styled dark hair was a bit messy.

‘We went for a walk.’

‘I thought you wanted to go swimming,’ Alastair said.

‘We did go swimming, but after that we came here,’ Lucie said. ‘For distraction.’

She decided the boys had better know the truth too, and summarized her encounter with Steve’s ghost in the lake and the story he’d told about being unable to get out of the lake.

Thomas looked unusually nervous, was he alright? Alastair looked concerned at most, but as far as Lucie remembered he rarely showed emotion. She wondered if Thomas and Alastair had had any fun during their walk.

‘Trapped in the lake?’ Alastair frowned. ‘There are stories of people getting trapped in certain places by powerful beings. Of course, no one knows if those are true since people who become victims of such things usually don’t live to tell about it.’

‘Perhaps we better return to grandma’s house,’ Lucie suggested. ‘Then we can explain everything, figure out if anything needs to be done.’

On their way back, Lucie did most of the talking. She asked Thomas and Alastair if they had any fun, but neither of them spilled much. Thomas mentioned something about them seeing a hedgehog and that Alastair liked them, and at some point Lucie fell into telling them all about her latest story idea. Only when they were home it occurred to her that Alastair might not care for her stories at all. Lucie could never tell, and when people politely told her something along the lines of ‘that’s interesting’, she tended to take that as an invitation to talk about her projects for the next hours. British people tended to be very polite, so they never said what they meant and left Lucie to figure out what they were trying to say. It was very annoying.

Not long before grandma’s house came back in sight, something caught Lucie’s eye. She stopped, Alastair nearly bumping into her, but she ignored him. Instead, she stared in the direction where she thought she might have seen something. There was a boy there. Not the one from the lake, but another boy of around twelve. Dark hair, light eyes, Lucie realized she recognized him.

‘Lu, are you alright?’ Thomas asked. ‘You look like you’ve seen a- never mind.’

You look like you’ve seen a ghost, except with Lucie that was often the case and it rarely startled her this much.

She’d known about her ability already when Jesse died, had known about for as long as she could remember really. She’d searched for him, in the forest where he’d died, at school. She’d even gone by his mother’s house, who had refused to let her in. She’d never seen him, never even caught a glimpse. He must have moved on already, she’d thought and although she’d wished she’d had a chance to say goodbye, Lucie was fine with the idea of him moving on. It was better than remaining as a ghost.

But here he was, and he hadn’t changed a bit since he’d died over four years ago. Still a twelve year old boy, and it hit Lucie just how young he’d died.

‘Jesse!’ she called out.

Jesse looked up. He had a haunted look in his eyes ghosts sometimes had. He didn’t say anything, nor did he move any closer.

‘Jesse!’ she tried again. ‘It’s me, Lucie! I can see you!’

Jesse opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but then disappeared as if he’d never been there. There was no poof, no cloud of shadows or ray of light in which he disappeared. He was just gone, no evidence that he’d been there at all. But Lucie was sure of what she’d seen. Jesse Blackthorn had just appeared in front of her. But why here, so far from where he’d lived and what he knew? Why now, four years after his death?

‘What is he saying?’ Cordelia asked.

Lucie shook her head as she tried to get her breathing under control. ‘Nothing,’ she whimpered. ‘He’s gone. He disappeared. But he was right there, it was him.’

[writingwithacupoftea]

Quiet

Summary: Following Grace’s death, Tommy shuts himself off from the rest of the world, dealing with all of the noise in his head alone. But Y/N Shelby will be damned if she doesn’t try to help her brother...

Word Count: 3158

A/N: This has unexpectedly become my 200 follower celebration fic, so thank you again!! I was getting my doctor-prescribed daily dose of Cillian Murphy the other day watching his video about the rise of Tommy Shelby, and the part where he talks about Tommy being burdened by his intelligence for some reason made me think of Matilda. So, the song ‘Quiet’ from Matilda the Musical (which I love btw, I’m a massive musical theatre nerd) became the inspiration for this fic. Hope you enjoy it!!

Y/N Shelby was always a source of amazement to the rest of her family. Being the second youngest of the Shelby clan, it had come as a shock to her three elder brothers that she could be quite as ruthless as them when it came to business and enemies who threatened her family. However, it wasn't just that which truly surprised them: it was the fact that she still managed to retain her heart of gold. This was largely reserved for her family and, despite the violence and atrocities committed by them in front of her very eyes, she loved them unconditionally (even if they were a pain in the arse sometimes).

When Tommy bought Arrow House, he also acquired the little cottage on the estate. Knowing that Y/N was getting restless at the prospect of still living with her family as she approached her twenties, Tommy had given the place to her to do with as she wished. This arrangement pleased both siblings immensely. Tommy and Y/N had always had an incredibly close relationship, despite the large age gap, and the cottage's location meant that Y/N got the independence that she so desperately wanted, whilst also being close enough for them to see each other as often as they wished.

(As well as this, it gave Tommy peace of mind that the only way to access the cottage was to cross the grounds which lay in front of Arrow House. This meant that any enemies would have to go past the blinders stationed in front of his house, then through Tommy himself, and finally deal with the blinders outside of Y/N's cottage in order to get to her. Oh, and he always knew when she dared to bring a boy back with her.)

Everything was going perfectly, and Tommy and Y/N were, for once, happy with their lives.

And then Grace died.

For two weeks after the funeral, Tommy spent most of his time riding around the estate, thinking by himself. He didn't want to see anyone apart from his son. Sometimes, depending on where he stopped at night, Y/N could see her brother at a distance from her living room. She longed to run to him, not to tell him that she was sorry and offer her condolences because she knew he'd be sick of that already. Y/N just wanted Tommy to know that he didn't have to fight every battle alone.

Then, out of the blue, there came a point when he stopped doing that. Instead, Tommy chose to throw himself into his work, providing a different type of isolation. He barely left the house, locking himself away in his office, and when he did go out on business he hardly told a soul. According to Mary (who secretly phoned Y/N every week to let her know how Tommy was doing) he seemed lifeless now, as if he were the one that died, not his wife. Her employer was even quieter than he usually was, and Y/N knew that that was when his brain got the loudest.

Y/N refused to sit by and let him destroy himself for any longer...and she knew just the trick to bring her brother back to life.

***

The phone on Tommy's desk seemed to ring even louder than usual, adding to his pounding headache. He hadn't left the house in three days, not that he'd noticed it, and was more on-edge than ever. With a sigh, he picked up the receiver.

"Tom?" Despite the million thoughts that clogged up his brain, he couldn't help the flicker of a smile that passed over his face upon hearing his little sister's light voice, something he'd gotten so used to when she'd lived with him. But that calm didn't last long before his brain went into overdrive again.

"You alright?" He had tried his best to keep any tones of alarm and worry at bay, but knew that he had failed when his voice faltered on the last word.

"I'm fine, I just need to you pop over and help me move a bookcase."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Tommy replied steadily, "Y/N, I'm waiting on about three different phone calls and I have a business to run. Why don't you ask -" He paused, looking at the list in front of him, "Ben or Harry to help you, eh?" (They were in charge of guarding Y/N's house during the daytime this week, according to the rota.)

"I mean I would do, but I've given them the weekend off, and quite frankly you're the closest other person, Tom."

The man in question froze. "You've sent Ben and Harry away?"

"Yes."

"For an entire weekend?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't tell me about it?"

"That's about the size of it, yeah."

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at Y/N?" Tommy was shouting now, furious that his sister would be this stupid. "I thought you had more sense than this!"

"Actually, Thomas, I think in this case I've got more sense than you. They've been outside this house for two, nearly three, weeks now because you haven't stood them down and you won't let me do it myself. How do you expect them to do their job properly if they're dead on their feet?"

Tommy fell silent, his heart beating at a mile a minute, worry taking over from his anger. What if someone took advantage of this moment? What if they used this opportunity to take his sister from him, like they took his wife? He was terrified, and the worst part was that it would be entirely his fault: he should never have let this fuck up happen, he should've kept a closer eye on his sister. Y/N lived on his grounds, anyone that came for Tommy would inevitably go for her as well.

He didn't even bother to try and conceal the tremor in his voice when he finally spoke again. "Okay, I'm coming over. Do not, I repeat, do not leave your house, alright? Don’t open the door to anyone but me, either. Have you got a gun with you?"

"Tom, you made sure that an entire armoury was installed here before I even set foot in the place, yes I have a gun."

"Good. Keep it with you, make sure it's loaded. I'm on my way."

Tommy hadn't even put the receiver down before he was on his feet, scrambling to get ready. Guilt and worry consuming him, Tommy made another phone call to get some more men stationed outside Arrow House, went up to the nursery and kissed Charlie goodbye, and then told Mary of his plan. Tommy would be staying with his sister until Monday morning – he was taking his sister's safety into his own hands this time.

It was common knowledge that the patriarch of the Shelby family didn't give a toss about religion any more, but as his pace quickened down the drive of Arrow House that Saturday morning, he sent a prayer up to anyone who was listening that he wouldn't be too late.

***

Livid. That's the only way to describe how Tommy felt upon turning the corner to his sister's cottage. For there she was, stood in the open doorway, clearly waiting for him. As he got closer, Tommy noticed that Y/N was wearing one of his old shirts under her worn grey cardigan, with a gun tucked into the top of her rolled up, oversized trousers. She also had a gentle smile on her face, the one that was reserved only for her family members.

Shaking a stern finger at his sister as he marched over to her, Tommy stated in a dangerous tone "I told you to stay indoors."

Y/N's smile moulded into a smirk. "Yeah, and I told you that Ben and Harry had the weekend off, not that there was no one guarding the house. Eddie and Will took their place last night."

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, whether out of relief or frustration, neither of the siblings knew. "You are in so much trouble." His tone was far from teasing, and anyone else would be quaking at the knees. But not Y/N.

"I thought I would be, but you can shout at me as we walk." Y/N grabbed a large basket from inside the door before locking it. "Come on!"

"You're not going fucking anywhere until -"

"You know, Thomas, the further away I get the less I'll be able to hear of you telling me off." Y/N hadn't even turned around or stopped to say it, she just kept walking.

"For fuck's sake," Tommy muttered angrily under his breath and then started moving to try and catch up with her.

***

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for making you panic so much." Tommy had only just caught up to Y/N, and had opened his mouth to continue speaking when she cut him off. "I knew you wouldn't leave the house unless I made you think that I was in danger. You were always too good of a big brother to risk that."

Tommy was rendered speechless by her words. He had neglected her for over a month, barely speaking to her and never visiting – how could she still claim that he was a good brother?

As if she could hear his thoughts, Y/N continued to speak. "You're grieving, Tom. I didn't expect anything from you, no matter how much I wanted to see you. Although you haven't been checking that the blinders change over, that part of my call was true. But I've been taking care of it, so I've been safe the entire time. Don't go blaming yourself for anything else."

"We thought that Grace was safe." That was the first thing that Tommy had said in minutes, and his anger at being lured into his sister's trap lay forgotten for the time being. Y/N simply placed her free hand into the crook of Tommy's arm and squeezed it.

"You probably think I'm so selfish for doing this, but I promise I'm not just doing it for me." She paused, almost reluctant to put her next question out into the open. "Everything's getting loud again, isn't it?"

Tommy stared at the ground as they kept walking further and further away from either of their houses, wordlessly confirming her suspicions. He let out a small chuckle. "You always know, don't you, sweetheart? For someone so young, you don't miss much."

Y/N breathed out a laugh. "When you grow up with John and his bloody booby traps all over the house, you do tend to notice everything and more."  

That was enough to bring out the first proper smile that Tommy had produced since his wife's death. He had forgotten what a tonic his sister could be – just her presence and gentle voice was enough to soothe him and ease some of his pain. Tommy brought his free hand up to rest on top of her small one, still nestled into the crook of his arm, and she responded by leaning her head against his shoulder contentedly.  

They continued to walk in silence before Tommy realised that, for once, he had no clue what they were doing. When he asked, his sister's answer made him stop in his tracks.

"Nothing?"

"Yep." Y/N smiled at him proudly. "Absolutely nothing."

"Y/N, I don’t have time to -"

"Everyone has the time to do nothing, Tommy, even you." Her brother sighed in defeat, knowing that there was no point in starting an argument over it (the look that Y/N was giving him was enough to tell him that he'd lost it before it had even begun).

"Alright, fine. But how am I supposed to do nothing and clear my head at the same time, eh?" His tone boarded on impatient.

"You'll figure it out soon enough." Y/N responded, calmly.

***

She was right, of course. They had laid down the blankets that had been tucked away in Y/N's basket and for a while they simply watched the clouds dancing across the sky, bringing back fond memories for Tommy: he had done this countless times with his mother before she passed, and afterwards he used to take a much younger Y/N out to do the same before the war took over. Tommy let the rustling of the wind in the trees and the singing of the birds melt away the endless stream of thoughts in his head. His sister had also been clever enough to bring them so far out into the Warwickshire countryside that he knew that no-one would find them, causing a feeling of safety and freedom to wash over him for the first time in years.

Tommy reached over and held Y/N's hand in his, and whispered "Thank you, bug," just loudly enough for her to hear.

Y/N turned her head to smile at him and squeezed his hand. But then she frowned at her brother, causing him to mirror her expression. "Tom, you've got some grey hairs coming. Seriously, I can see them now, just at the side."

His lips parted in shock as her expression turned into one of mirth. "You cheeky fucker." Tommy's tone was deadly serious; however, Y/N knew her brother well enough to know what was coming next. She just managed to roll out of the way before Tommy's hand reached out to tickle her stomach.

Before they both knew it, Y/N was running like her life depended on it and Tommy was following in hot pursuit, uncontrollable laughter bubbling out from both of them.

***

A few hours later and night had fallen. Tommy had built a fire some time ago, and Y/N was sat by it, reading. He realised that, whilst the scene wasn't too dissimilar to the one he created every night in the weeks following Grace's funeral, it was also entirely different. Before, he had only focused on the thoughts constantly whizzing around in his brain, not noticing anything else going on around him.  

But now, everything was quiet. Not silent, for that would surely send all of the noise flooding back into his head. The sounds of the pages turning steadily in his sister's book provided that nice sort of quiet which meant that that noise just...stopped. Y/N hadn't actually tried to distract him from his grief or his thoughts, either, or tried to get him to talk about it as so many other people had done; all Y/N did was bring him physically away from everything and been there, a strong presence without pressure. For that, he loved her more than ever.

Tommy looked up as Y/N released a long sigh, having just finished her last chapter. He noticed her shiver slightly when a cool breeze brushed over the field, and fished another blanket out of the basket as she walked over to sit next to him. Tommy wrapped the soft material tightly around her and placed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a one-armed hug.  

Breaking the silence, Y/N looked up and said "The stars are so much brighter out here than in Small Heath."

Tommy hummed in agreement. "When you were little and we were on the road with mum, I used to point out all the different constellations to you."

"I don't remember that."

"Well, you were always about half asleep."

"Do you still remember them?"

"I do."

"Would you show me them again?"

The question was asked with such innocence that Tommy glanced down at his sister, and saw her bright blue eyes staring back up at him, eyes that had him wrapped around her little finger. He laid down, patting the space next to him, encouraging her to do the same. "Let's have a look then, shall we?"

He was rewarded with a big, beaming smile.

***

When Y/N started to yawn and her eyelids began to droop, lulled by the warmth and her brother's steady voice, Tommy decided that it was time for them to head back. He bundled everything back into the basket bar one blanket, which he layered on top of the other one covering his sister once they started walking away from the dying fire (despite Y/N's apparent annoyance at his fussing).

Tommy was still set on staying in his sister's spare room for the weekend, wanting to make up for lost time. Part of him also still worried that she would be taken away from him, and knew that there wasn't much chance of him sleeping if he returned to his own bed. After all that she had done for him today, Tommy couldn't bear to leave her just yet.

He carried the basket in one hand, and Y/N had wrapped both of her arms around his other arm, revelling in the chance to be so close to her brother again, and not just physically. Y/N wasn't naïve in her view of Tommy: he was cold, brutal, rude and relentless, and she knew that. But she had also never wavered in her belief that parts of the Tommy that she knew before the war were still there; they were simply buried deep within, so much so that it was slowly becoming more and more difficult to bring them to the surface.  

However, looking up and noting the absence of a crease between Tommy's brows, she couldn't help but feel that she could afford herself a small victory this time.

"I'm always here for you, Tom," Y/N mumbled, seemingly out of the blue. "When you need some quiet, and remember that I always know when you do, I'll never get bored of things like this."

Tommy was silent, and Y/N wondered if she'd ruined it and pushed it too far. But then she heard him clear his throat and quietly reply "That sounds perfect, sweetheart," and her worries washed away in an instant.

***

As the siblings stepped over the threshold of the cottage, exhaustion hit both of them. Y/N headed to the kitchen and Tommy made his way towards the living room. Upon his arrival, however, he stopped in the doorway and simply stared in...

"Y/N?" He called, confusion seeping into his voice.

The woman in question appeared behind him, and peered over her brother's shoulder at the bookcase abandoned in the middle of the room. "Fuck, I'd forgotten about that. Well, you can move it out of the way while I make tea – it's what I called you here to do anyway." Y/N began to wander back towards the kitchen, ignoring the befuddled, yet amused, expression on her brother's face. "Thanks Tom, love you!"

"Love you too, darling," Tommy murmured, not loud enough for her to hear, a full and genuine smile gracing his features.

Yep, he thought, his sister was definitely one of a kind, but he wouldn't change her for the world; and no matter what else he did, he refused to fail Y/N again.

[plasticnightmaredoll]

This is an idea/scenario I’ve had for a good while now pertaining to Arkham Knight Riddler. I don’t know if it’s any good -- it may be too “fluffy” to be in character -- but I wanted to write it down and get it out there, see what people think. Ironically, the idea came from a similar one involving Telltale Riddler, and I may post that one someday, too, but this AK Riddler one is...very different. Different in regards to a lot of headcanons, imagines, drabbles, etc. about him.

So, the scenario is like this: Someone wants to fuck with this poor guy -- not Batman, not one of the Bat family, not even one of the Gotham Rogues. It could be some random new villain, someone who is maybe more sadistic than any of the Rogues (save for Joker). I thought about this antagonist kidnapping AK Eddie’s s/o and holding them hostage …

But with a twist.

Catwoman has nothing to do with this because she’s not evil, but I thought about the explosive collar Riddler put on her in Arkham Knight, and what if this antagonist -- to really mess with Eddie -- decides to put such a collar on his s/o? And Riddler has to show up and complete some tasks (dangerous puzzles and riddle-based traps most likely), or else, his s/o loses their head.

Of course, Eddie shows up because he’s panicking. This was never supposed to happen! Nothing was supposed to happen to his s/o. This is beyond anything Batman had ever done. This is so sinister, so vile, so abhorrent, Eddie can’t even begin to comprehend it. At first, he bargains, offering money, tech, robots, his hacking skills -- even offers himself up to wear the collar instead because he can’t take the sight of his beloved wearing something that could blow their head right off, right in front of him, and leave him emotionally and mentally broken for life.

But the antagonist doesn’t want to bargain, even when Eddie begs -- like, really begs to the point of tears, asking for mercy and pleading with the antagonist to let his s/o go free. They have nothing to do with any of Eddie’s work. They’re innocent, and they’re too important to him! He can’t let this happen!

The begging amuses the antagonist but once again, it’s not enough. Eddie has to do the challenges, and if he completes them all correctly, the collar comes off. If he messes up, then his s/o dies. Eddie reassures his s/o that everything will be just fine, he’s got this under control, they’ll be out of trouble in no time so don’t be afraid.

It’s difficult to not be afraid when you have a bomb around your neck and a sadistic psychopath with the trigger. As bad as Eddie can be, he’s not THIS malevolent. He has some humanity left in him. But this person, they’re just out there to make him suffer because it’s “entertaining” to watch him squirm. 

As you know, by this point in his life, Eddie is very mentally unstable and could have a mental breakdown if pushed even just a little too far. His s/o is the only thing keeping him grounded, the only reason he has to keep his sanity (or what’s left of it), and this is the only person who has ever cared for him despite the fact he knows he’s not worth it. If he loses his beloved, then what would he have left? There would be no recovery from such a thing.

So, Eddie completes the challenges, although he is internally freaking out the entire time, partly because he doubts himself and partly because he has no idea if the antagonist will just press the trigger and kill Eddie’s s/o without warning. By the time Eddie is done, he’s a nervous wreck and on the verge of a breakdown, but he hopes that, by enduring all this, by letting this person watch him squirm, sweat, beg, cry, and panic, that maybe it’s enough to end this madness without his s/o dying.

But the antagonist doesn’t care that Eddie completed all the tasks. In the end, it’s about making Eddie suffer horribly because watching a nearly broken man finally break -- shatter -- is the point of all this. So, the collar has a 30 second timer set, and as it counts down, Eddie obviously freaks out, hyperventilating as he tries to plead once again for his s/o’s life, offering himself up again in their place, and yet, it’s not enough (kind of reminding him how he was never enough for his father, even if he agonized over pleasing him). The antagonist just laughs at Eddie’s mental breakdown and tells him he better use the remaining time to say goodbye. And no funny business. If Eddie or his s/o attempt to remove or disarm the collar, then it will detonate. 

Eddie’s s/o, despite being terrified does their best to put on a brave face and they tell him it’s ok, it’s not his fault, just don’t look, look away, it will all be over soon, he has to keep going for them...Eddie doesn’t know what to do, and seeing as he now has 10 seconds left, he does the only thing he feels he can and should do, and he grabs his s/o despite their protests and holds them tight, crying and saying over and over how sorry he is, he’s so sorry. 

And the timer reaches zero on the collar.

There’s a soft click.

Then nothing.

No explosion. 

The antagonist bursts out laughing, confessing that the “bomb” is a dud, was never going to explode, and since both Eddie and his s/o were too distressed to think all this through, they never even considered this as a possibility. The collar has been unlocked and Eddie’s s/o just kind of sinks to their knees in complete shock, and he can’t believe what he’s seeing. At first, he’s confused, wondering if this is all some sort of twisted dream, then he’s relieved because his s/o is safe, then he’s angry because what the hell was this?! He vows to get revenge on the antagonist and throws the collar away as he all but screams in rage.

Now alone, Eddie remembers his s/o is still on the floor, pale as a sheet and unresponsive. Kneeling down, he asks if they’re ok, tells them they’re ok, that this was all some sort of sick joke. When his s/o snaps out of their daze, they get mad and push him away, yelling at him for being so foolish

“You were just going to let yourself die with me?!” they demand.

“Yes!” Eddie responds, too overwhelmed to even know how to respond to this. 

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because!”

“WHY?”

“Because I can’t go back to my old life! Not having known you! You think that I would just sink back into my old routine without a hitch? You think I would forget you? You think I’d just move on and live life normally? How could I do that? How? If I lost you, I’d have nothing, do you understand? Nothing. My life would be empty, more so than it’s ever been, and nothing could fill that void, not the way you do. No one has ever loved me, not even those who were supposed to! But you, you love me! I didn’t ask for it, and I don’t even deserve it, but you love me anyway. You make me feel valid, you make me feel like...like I exist, like I actually matter.”

His s/o is crying, and he’s crying, and they’re both going to be emotionally traumatized for a while. Sure, Eddie will get revenge but he’s also going to be having night terrors -- nightmares would be much better than what he experiences at night -- about his s/o dying in gruesome ways while is helpless to do anything. Sometimes, he won’t even be able to sleep because he doesn’t want those ghastly images in his head, and he’ll stay up holding his s/o as they (try) to sleep (they have nightmares of their own after this experience). 

He has to come to terms with his first real encounter with the threat of loss, a real loss. He never cared about anyone before because no one ever cared for him. He was used to being ignored, bullied and belittled, and he always had trouble trusting others because of how he was raised. He never had friends, never thought he would need friends because, well, he never had any. Forming emotional attachments was beyond him, as he never had such a relationship with his parents, and that is the first time children are supposed to experience attachment. If your parents don’t love you, you grow up feeling unloved, alone, and don’t understand what it’s like to be close to people, so you just push everyone away and look out for yourself. It makes you selfish just as much as it makes you feel lonely.

But now, Eddie has his s/o, someone who just kind of barged into his life and stole his heart despite his best efforts to not feel anything sentimental because being vulnerable meant he could get hurt, and he didn’t like the idea of forming an attachment only to have it ripped away from him due to the other person’s betrayal. In his eyes, love equals abuse, since that’s the only kind of “love” this Eddie seems to have ever experienced. 

It’s going to take a lot of time -- and patience -- for Eddie to deal with this, and he’s going to be watching his s/o like a hawk. They won’t be allowed to go anywhere alone, and definitely not at night. He’ll be very clingy, protective, maybe a little possessive but mostly protective. When he does eventually find a way to calm down, it will actually make him a stronger person emotionally, I think, because he will understand himself better, and he’ll understand the relationship he has with his s/o better. This experience has taught him -- in the most insane and unwelcomed way -- why his s/o is so vital to him, and while attachment like that is almost frightening because of the risk of loss, he doesn’t want to go back to his old life and be alone, being seen as some sort of joke by everyone in Gotham. He doesn’t want to go back to being isolated, left with only his thoughts to comfort him despite his dwindling sanity and self-esteem. He needs to have a reason to press on, and trying to be better than everyone just won’t do it anymore. He needs to be loved, loves to be loved, but is also thrilled to be able to give it in return, whatever the risks may be.

And you know the antagonist is going to be utterly destroyed by Riddlerbots. Or something. Something awful will happen to that person. We know that much.

-------------

Ugh, so let me know what you guys think! This is way out there in left field in terms of portrayal of Arkham Knight Eddie (or just Arkhamverse Eddie in general) but this idea has been stuck in my mind for so long now. Feedback is definitely encouraged and appreciated here because this is such an epic and crazy h/c. Constructive criticism is welcome. Just don’t be mean, please.

[docholligay]

Little love letters--Lena

And of course I can’t help myself by ending with something where I even made myself a bit misty-eyed, cooked up in the middle of the night while I couldn’t sleep, staring at the ceiling and thinking of things of this nature. I love a good tragedy, I guess it can be fairly said of me, but I like it best when things are bittersweet. This is my bittersweet chocolate for me, but also all of you. 

The London Record-- a future run date

To My Wife’s Next Wife

by Lena Oxton 

When this is printed, she’ll be cross at me, I know, but I’ll be dead and so there won’t be much she can do about it. When this is printed, she’ll say that I was a bit of a wicked thing, not to tell her I was doing it, and I suppose she’s not wrong. When this is printed, she’ll tell you she won’t ever marry someone else, and that, I hope, is not true. 

I hope that you’re reading this right now, her next wife, and I hope you take everything I say under advisement. 

First of all, let me tell you all the reasons you want to marry my wife, Emily Oxton, formerly McNair, originally of Glasgow, and maybe living there when you meet her. But just as likely not, she’s built up quite a life in London, so if you’re reading this, and I hope you are, keep your eyes out for her all about the United Kingdom. 

I met her in a grotty little pub out on the East End, which does want for a bit of romance, so if you could manage more a meet-cute for her, she’d very likely be grateful. She never did much like telling the story of being stood up, and how I simply wouldn’t stop trying to cheer her, and how it took her days to call me. So I’d appreciate you giving her a story she enjoyed telling, if you’re feeling generous. 

You’ll know her immediately. There’s few women like her, and I knew it that day in the pub, dank as it was. If you see a tall gorgeous redhead, with long legs like a supermodel’s, but carries herself like she doesn’t know that, it might be her. You’d have to check and see if she has those same bright, clear eyes, and the freckles that go all the way down her shoulders. If those check, ask her a question, and you’ll know its her by the soft singsong way she talks, like everything’s a question. 

I suspect you will already be in love with her, at this point. At the very least, you’ll want to pop round for a drink with her. If the soft dress with the foxes and rabbits embroidered on it puts you off, let me explain that she’s a reception year teacher, or I hope she will be again by then--she’s taken some time off to care for me--and her kids love the dresses. She loves the kids, loves to teach them, and she’s so good at it. She’s good with the soft and small things, and though you can’t know it, just meeting her as you are, your heart will melt seeing her with them. 

It’s fun to bring her flowers at work, though it’s a bit unprofessional, and see their eyes grow wide, asking Miss Emily just who you are. She’ll blush a bit, it’s very winning. 

I did that, when we were first together. She’s a bit shy in the beginning, you know. I would walk her home--and you had better walk her home, I won’t have my wife marrying someone who wouldn’t be a perfect gentlelady to her--and she’d stammer at her door, wanting to invite me in and afraid to do it, all the same. Had to invite myself up, really. I was a perfect gentlebutch about it, mind. That first night I slept over, we did nothing but fall asleep holding hands on the couch. 

So you must be patient with her, you see. Emily takes time, as all things worth enjoying do. Once she kisses you, and smiles at you, once she makes you dinner in her flat, it’ll all have been worth it, I promise. If you thought she was beautiful before, you’ll find her stunning when she trusts you. She glows under the light of love, and she deserves every inch of it. 

I’m hoping the next woman she marries can give her children, though I can’t really be too cross over something I couldn’t manage for her. She’ll be kind even if you can’t. We whispered it to each other one night on my couch, how we’d both wanted it, how an unhappy twist of medical truth had made it impossible for us both. We might have adopted, had things turned different. But they didn’t, and so all I have is this letter to you, telling you she would make the best kind of mother, and however it happens, you should give her the chance. 

It’s hard to get my thoughts straight, all the things I need you to know about Emily, and what a wonder she is. My days are measured in moments now, and I fall asleep halfway through a sentence sometimes. No one ever tells you the business of dying is boring as well as inconvenient. That one’s not about Emily, just consider it a bit of free advice. But I must get it out, you see, for there’s the risk you won’t know all the things I need for you to know when you marry her. 

Her favorite hot chocolate is the Wispa Gold, and she likes it best on winter afternoons when it rains. She likes wines that are a bit sweet, and prefers cider to beer. She hogs the duvet, so you’ll need to make like the Swiss and have two. She loves to have her hair brushed and braided, when she’s feeling a bit sad. She prefers Italian food to nearly anything else, and doesn’t care for oysters, and she’ll only order a pudding if you suggest it first. Her perfume is Memoires d’une Autre Domaine, and you should buy it for her, she’s a bit loathe to spend the a few quid on herself. That last bit might have changed, by the time you meet her, but I had to learn all of this myself, so you’re getting ahead all the same. 

Emily is a terribly sensitive thing, and you must be tender with her sometimes. When she cries after a movie, I want you to be sure to hold her tight and kiss her tears. Let her know you think it’s sweet that she’s so. She’ll surprise you with her strength, too. I have found her to be a proper rock against everything that’s befallen us, this first and last year of our marriage.

She deserved so many things I couldn’t ever give her, and a longer marriage is one of them. I look to you to fix my mistake. 

I say she was so strong, even crying at a commercial or something, because she chose this. I told her the truth before we married, and she chose to take my hand for whatever time it was anyhow. She didn’t have to do that. I tried so many ways to give her an out, and she never did take it. So you see how lucky you are, to find someone like her. She believed in that oath of in sickness and health before she even took it. 

You are, ideally, a woman with a steadiness and a safety I lacked, but still having enough of the spark she seemed to appreciate in me to keep her laughing.She loves to laugh. If you were a bit neater than me, she’d appreciate that as well, I think.  You like to cook, but want to have help in the kitchen, because she likes to help. Mind that you take her on holiday--I don’t want anyone who expects her to be kept at home. You should own at least one good suit, and wear a tie when you take her out, like the lady to be shown off she is. 

If you work to be worthy of her, I’ll help you find her. 

There is so much to have with Emily: She is the sort of woman who will meet you at the airport with flowers, simply because she thought there needed to be some celebration of your being home again. This magical thing will grin at all of your plans, and hold your hand as you walk through Paris, or anywhere you care to take her, with wide eyes, for she appreciates all the small things of this world. When you’re unwell, she’ll read to you in that brogue of hers I’ll miss hearing so much. You’ll feel warm, on the coldest London day. Nothing gets through her. 

I promise you, if you take the time to become my wife’s new wife, you’ll be the happiest woman on this grey rock we call a country. Even when I’ve had not much to be happy about, I see her there and I know that at least one thing has been right. She’s a light in the darkness, love, and you must trust me on that. 

Her mind may turn to me, from time to time. Seems unavoidable, however much I told her not to be fussed over me. I’m only a shadow and a memory, something that’ll pass over her and then be gone. Sometimes she may want to tell a funny story about me, and it would be kind of you to listen. Please don’t think of me as a threat, even if it makes her a bit sad. My mate has told me I may be aiming quite high, and that the shadow of me is a touch intimidating. But I’m not writing you as Tracer, aviatrix, and Overwatch command, and whatever else I might have been on the record. 

This letter comes from Lena Oxton, who was married to, for a short time, and dearly loved, Emily Oxton. 

 I need you to know that I’m writing this to you because I want you to find her. I want you to love her and be loved by her, and I want you to have fifty or more happy years together. I am out of time to give her every gift she deserved, and so the only thing I can give her if the gift of you, wherever you are. My greatest hope, at the end of my life, is that you are out there, the right person, waiting for the right widow to reenter the dating sphere, maybe not even knowing that yet. 

Emily will be cross at me, when this is first published, but she’ll also clip it from the paper. Maybe she’ll read it over on your wedding day, and she’ll cry a bit, knowing she found you, and so gave me the only last thing I ever asked of her: Not to put her heart on a shelf. 

You have my blessing, and my hope. To my wife’s next wife, I love you as well, and I thank you.