#so technically she is more than the help but i love her

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 3

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

The shadows unceremoniously dumped a whole stack of Sellyn Drake Novels on Azriel’s desk.

Azriel eyed the stack of novels dubiously, wondering how in the Mother's blessed name the Shadows had gotten their hands on these. Or why.

But they stayed silent, clearly waiting for him to outright demand an answer. *Why?* he asked with a long suffering sigh. *What's this about?*

No response.

Azriel reached for one of the books, pulling it off the top of the stack and flipping it over. And immediately he regretted that decision. The cover was…certainly something.

A shirtless man holding a rather skimpily dressed woman up against a wall. 

Azriel let out a long, long sigh.

*You need to read the books, Master,* the shadows told him seriously.

Azriel stared at his shadows, then at the books, then at his shadows. *You cannot possibly be serious.* What exactly was this supposed to give him? 

He flipped it over, reading the synopsis. 

When Lady Eleanor is forced into an unwanted marriage, she despairs—until the enigmatic Sir Tristan, a battle-scarred knight with a fearsome reputation, crashes into her life. Bound by a promise to protect her, Tristan whisks Eleanor away from her gilded prison, thrusting them into a wild escape across enemy lands.

Haunted by his past and wary of love, Tristan tries to keep Eleanor at arm's length. But as they face danger together, a fierce passion grows between them, tempting them to trust in a love that could heal even the deepest wounds.

What the fuck. 

*We are, Master.* The Shadows told him, sounding as earnest as they possibly could.

He opened the book. Titled The Dark Knight’s Desire, flicking through the pages. Was this…a first edition?

*It’s important!* The shadows insisted. *You know…to brush up on these flirting skills of yours.*

Azriel shot the shadows an unamused look. *I can flirt perfectly well,* he protested.

*You most certainly cannot.* The Shadows deadpanned. *It’s research! Read them for her!*

*Read them for…* Azriel started, his voice trailing off.

*You found...* he trailed off weakly. They had found a female for him?

The shadows swirled around him almost playfully. *Of course we did,* they said innocently. *We told you we would, didn’t we?*

They were working quickly. It had only been weeks since he had agreed to let them find him a wife.

*You did,* Azriel said slowly, but his mind was working fast, so fast, trying to wrap around the idea that his Shadows were trying to help him find a wife…and more importantly, that they had found a female they thought he would find suitable.

*Where did you find her?* he asked, carefully.

*Here in Velaris!* the shadows answered brightly.

*Here?* Azriel asked, his surprise obvious. The shadows had found...a female...here in Velaris? Someone who was compatible with him? And they wanted him to read...what were these again? Sellyn Drake novels? So he would know how to best romance this female?

*Read the books, Master,* the shadows said with a sigh. So he did.

And that was how Azriel spent his next few hours. Reading a book, and blushing like some sort of adolescent boy when certain…particularly intimate scenes came around. The Shadows cackled beside him the entire time.

How the fuck did Nesta do this with a straight face?!?

Azriel had no idea, but by the Mother, he was never going to ask her. Ever. He would just die of embarrassment.

Though he needed to admit...he actually quite liked it.

The novels, that is. The…intimate scenes. Azriel liked them. A lot. Not even the...smut, like Nesta called it...no, he liked the love story. He liked the two people that came together and would do everything for each other...the falling in love part. He liked that.

But the Shadows were probably never going to let him live this down. Azriel did find comfort in a single thought, though. Whoever this possible future partner was, she was never going to know about this. There was no way in hell he would let her find out that he read smutty books to brush up his flirting skills.

But even that did not stop the nagging thought in Azriel's head, one that made him hesitate, and doubt himself, and doubt the Shadows' judgment. "What if..." he said softly, hesitantly. "What if she just...doesn't like me?"

He knew he had some...rough edges, to put it kindly. And he had his own...troubles. His own...insecurities. Some of the things he kept to himself, so many of his...issues. The shadows knew of them all, of course…There were many nights they stayed up with him, soothing him when the ghosts in his mind became a little too loud, a little too real.

What if that scared her? He didn't want her to be scared. He didn't want to scare her.

*She'll like you, Master.* The Shadows assured him, wrapping themselves around him comfortingly and soothingly. *She’ll love you.*

He exhaled. *Can you read minds now?*

*Only yours,* the Shadows assured him. *But as long as you don't cheat on her with her sister, you'll be doing a better job than her ex-partners!*

What. 

"Are you seriously reading a Sellyn Drake novel?" Only 5 centuries of training kept him from flinching as he looked up to find Cassian in his doorway.

"Nesta said it was good," he shot back flatly, not hiding the book, because that would just give Cassian even more reason to tease him. 

"You...actually listen to Nesta's...book recommendations?" Cassian stared at him, as if he had grown a third head.

"She is intelligent, and she reads more than either of us," Azriel shot back, sharply. "So yes, if she says it's good, I'll try it."

Cassian gave a slight shake of his head, not believing what he was hearing. "You are…actually reading a Sellyn Drake novel?" He repeated as if he couldn't quite believe that Azriel was actually doing that.

"Yes," Azriel said, his words clipped. "You have a problem with that?"

Cassian just stared at him for a long moment before letting out a quiet laugh. "No, I just never thought I would actually see the day that you read a Sellyn Drake novel."

"Well, I like it," Azriel said evenly. "It’s very are well written."

"And smutty," Cassian said with a grin.

Azriel rolled his eyes. "It’s are more than just...smut, Cassian, It actually has a story, and good characters."

"Characters who can barely keep their hands off each other long enough to solve the mystery, you mean," Cassian drawled, but Azriel ignored him, flipping a page. 

."Have you ever actually read a Sellyn Drake novel, Cassian?" Azriel asked, shooting him a look. "Or do you simply judge by the covers?"

Cassian just grinned, clearly enjoying this conversation and how defensive Azriel had become. "The covers are pretty damn attractive though."

Azriel rolled his eyes at that comment, but didn't respond. Just looked back down at the book, completely ignoring his brother.

"Are you coming to dinner tonight?" Cassian asked him instead. 

"No," he answered flatly. He did really want to know how the book ended.

*We found a house! We can show it to you!* the shadows hissed at that moment. Huh.

"There is something that needs my attention," Azriel said simply.

Cassian gave him a searching look, a frown etched into his face, but Azriel simple met his gaze. 

"Az," Cassian said quietly. "Come on."

"I have something I need to do, Cassian." Azriel's voice was still flat, but more firm, a clear sign that he did not want any arguments.

"Az," Cassian said again, and this time, there was a small thread of pleading in his voice. "Just… come have dinner with us. Please. It'll be good for you."

Good? Good to sit at Rhys' table and be told to "behave"? Azriel would rather eat crushed glass than do that. Which was the reasons why he skipped out of them as often as he possible could.

He knew, he knew that Cassian was just looking out for him, but that didn't mean that he felt like he was obligated to go.

"I have something I need to do," he repeated, his voice even.

Cassian sighed. "You are so goddamn stubborn," he muttered, but he let the subject drop, clearly knowing that Azriel was not going to listen.

That evening, instead of sitting through that dinner, Azriel let the shadows swirl around him in excitement, tugging on his jacket, practically dragging him forward.

*It's a lovely house, Master!* they said as they wrapped him in their embrace.

He blinked twice as he rematerialised in front of a lake. Somehow not quite what he had expected. But then…then he saw the house.

Grey stone and wood and the biggest windows he had ever seen that promised an breathtaking view over the lake… and nobody around as far as he could see. He stared at the house, a brow raised. It was nice…very nice. A little too nice. Exactly too his taste.

Azriel turned towards the shadows as he raised another brow. *And how exactly did you…* he started with a huff. *You know what, nevermind.*

He could already hear the shadows saying that they asked for a favor in exchange. Or maybe they stole it.

The house was still nice though, perfect really. He just…didn't want to know what they had done to get it.

Azriel glanced towards the building again. He could almost picture himself in the space, walking around, just….simply existing. It was peaceful and quiet…and he would not be…disturbed or bothered.

He could see himself reading in front of the fireplace, looking out into the night sky through the large windows. 

Azriel walked towards the building, his fingers brushing over the wall. He could feel it already….he could already feel his muscles loosening, his shoulders lowering from their stiff position.

Home, he thought as stepped into the space, the shadows following after him as his lips tugged upwards.

Yes, he could already see himself calling it that. Home. He liked the ring of it. 

*You're welcome, Master,* the shadows said as they swirled around him, nuzzling him affectionately. They were happy for him, so very happy for him.

The living room was spacious, filled with  overstuffed couches and armchairs made for wings… the view indeed was spectacular. And one long uninterrupted wall was lined with tall, massive bookshelves.

It was perfect.

*Does she like books?* he couldn't help but ask.

*Yes, Master! She loves books!* The Shadows assured him in an excited chorus.

She liked to read. That was the first little tidbit of information he learned about her.

*Will you tell me something else about her?* he asked them softly, as he kept exploring the house.

*What do you want to know?* the shadows asked.

*Did her ex-partner really cheat on her with her sister?* he wondered aloud.

*Yes. They are engaged to be married now,* the shadows answered. *He's an asshole,* they muttered darkly.

Azriel couldn't help but give a nod in agreement. An ass was too kind. Whoever he was, he was more than that. Azriel hated him, whoever he was.

*Anything else?* he asked the shadows, curious, so damn curious, to know more about the female.

*She has a cat. His name is Hector. He may be the ugliest cat in existence,* the shadows said primly, *but she adores him.*

Not what he expected, but it was...sweet. It was kind. She had a pet cat. His lips tugged upwards into an involuntary smile.

*And...?* he trailed off, waiting for a response. He was greedy, so damn greedy for more, so greedy to get to know the female more. His curiosity about her had grown to a fever pitch, it seemed.

The Shadows hummed thoughtfully. *She is very, very kind, Master,* they finally said softly.

Those words caused Azriel's smile to go soft, so damn soft. His heart fluttered at the Shadows' words. She was kind. She was kind and she had a cat that she adored. Her ex was an ass who cheated on her. She read, liked books, which meant she was intelligent, and…

Was he getting excited about someone he had never even met?

*When...when can I meet her?* he asked softly.

*Soon,* the shadows promised. *She doesn't leave the house that often...*

Azriel's brows drew together at that. *Why not?* he asked quietly, not sure if he really wanted the answer to that question.

The Shadows hesitated for a moment before responding. *People...people aren't very nice to her,* they admitted slowly.

Azriel blinked, confused. People...weren't nice to her...? But…why? What was there not to be nice about? From what he had gleaned, she was kind, had a cat, was smart, and liked books. What was wrong with any of that? It didn't make any sense.

*Why?* he demanded shaprly.*Because people are idiots as usual,* the shadows snapped right back. *People aren't nice to you either.*

Azriel gave a small wince at that, the shadows words hitting him like a bucket of ice cold water. But they were right, people weren't all the nicest to him, either.

Still...he didn't like the idea of her being treated poorly. He wanted...Gods, the want was so strong, all of a sudden. The want to…to protect her. To guard her, and protect her. To keep her safe. To make sure she was alright.

*Tell me when she leaves her house,* he demanded.

For a moment he could swear the shadows were nearly frozen in place.

*Change of Plans. Put on a different shirt,* the shadows said quickly. Azriel just stared at them.

*A different shirt?* he asked. He didn't even have any clothing here! That was back at the House of Wind. But the shadows were clearly not taking no for an answer.

He batted away a tendril as it started to unbuckle his fighting leathers and did it himself, only for them to shove him into a shirt that was so dark green it was nearly black and then start fussing with his hair.

Azriel barely had time to even process what was happening before the shadows were pushing him towards the door, still trying to fix and smooth his hair and clothes as they moved forward.

*What is the change of plan?* he asked them

*You are getting to see her right now,* the shadows said with a hint of glee to their voice. *Her sister and some friends are taking her to a bar.*

*The same sister that cheated on her with her ex-partner?* he demanded.

*Yes,* the shadows agreed in a hiss. 

Great. So he was going to have to stop a fight from happening, all while trying to meet the female he apparently was connected to? That was a...recipe for disaster right there..

*She'll be at the Crystal Drop* the shadows informed him, and his heart gave a strange little clench at those words. He was...he was actually going to get to meet her. Tonight.

The feeling of excitement was back, rushing through him like a wildfire. But there was also a hint of trepidation, a hint of nervousness. What if he screwed it all up? What if he messed things up? His stomach was suddenly full of butterflies.

Azriel didn't have time to dwell on those thoughts, though, as the shadows gave him a little nudge forward again, all but forcing him to start moving towards the tavern.

He could see it in the distance, the sign proclaiming it as “Crystal Drop”. It...it was right there. She was there... 

Taking a deep breath, he headed towards the bar, his heart pounding in his chest with every step that he took closer to the entrance. Gods, his hands were shaking. 

He was nervous. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was

He entered the tavern, and his eyes automatically went to the crowd, searching for...something.

The shadows let him towards a place in a corner where he could view the whole bar and he ordered a single fireale, because he was not getting drunk. He wanted his wits about him when he met her. 

But right now…right now, Azriel settled in to watch.

He watched the crowd, his eyes roving around, searching the whole tavern once again. He just wanted to know where the group was. He wanted to know where...she was.

*Do you see her, Master?* the shadows asked him, nearly teasingly.

*I have absolutely no clue how she looks, so how should I?* he gave back in a growl. The door opened and he watched as a group of females poured in...and then right there at the edges of that group...

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on her, and...oh.

Between one blink and the next everything changed. A golden bond unfurled in his chest, connecting him to her.

Her.

He knew it.

She was his mate.

Mine. He whispered in his head, barely more than a thought. He knew it with every fiber of his being, every part of his heart.

He took her in hungrily. 

She was so beautiful. So, so beautiful. Azriel had to physically restrain himself from going over to her right then and there. 

He could hardly breathe. He couldn't form a coherent thought. His whole world had suddenly narrowed to the sight in front of her. His mate.

*Master?* There was alarm in the shadows voices as his breathing became near erratic.

*She's...You found my mate,* he said weakly.

The shadows hummed in confirmation and his eyes were glued to her still, drinking her in. She had long brown hair with soft curls, falling over back, bangs framing a rounded face with high cheekbones and plump cheeks...full rosy lips too and adorable freckles dotting over her nose...

She was the most beautiful being he had ever seen.  She was simply...stunning. 

And mine, he thought to himself. She was his. She was his mate.

He didn't even look at the rest of the group. Just focused on the one...the one who was at the edge of the group, seemingly trying to vanish, to become invisible. 

Even from the distance, Azriel could see the tension in his mate’s form. He frowned slightly at that. He didn't like it, seeing her like that.

He...his instincts were starting to kick in, a soft, protective urge rising up in him. He wanted to go to her, to...to stand by her side and ease away whatever was bothering her. But he stayed rooted to the spot, just...just watching her. Just watching his mate, the sight of her soothing every single little part of him until he felt warm all over.

He let the group settle at a table a few feet away from him, forcing himself to look down on the bottle in front of him and not stare at his mate like a total creep.

If he strained his ears, he could hear the whole conversation. Apparently it was his mate’s sisters Hen Party, the kind of celebration that some High Fae Females had before they got married.

Nice. Why not bring along your sister, when you were engaged to the guy that cheated with you on said sister?

The fact that his mate even came along into this bar that evening was probably a sign of how fucking nice she was. And Gods...no wonder his mate was so anxious...this whole thing was just...a disaster waiting to happen.

He glanced towards the group again, his attention once again immediately falling on his mate. He could see it, the small twitch of her fingers, the tightening of her lips...the small little things, and he felt his heart wrench at the sight.

She didn't talk. She was just sitting there silently, while the other females had a raucous conversation, that she wasn't part of. It made him bristle.

He didn't understand why they were doing that, why she wasn't a part of the conversation. She was right there. But they weren't listening, they weren't noticing her...or maybe they were ignoring her on purpose.

He...he didn't like it. He didn’t like it at all.  

Just minutes later, Azriel realised that he should have wished that they kept ignoring her.

Because Azriel was quite certain that he was going to slit his mate's sister's throat with Truthteller if she said one more word. 

The blonde, her sister, stared at his mate and this time a sharp, nasty smile curled on her lips. "Oh, what's the matter, little sister? Mad that I nabbed the male you were going to marry?" she taunted with a malicious grin. "I guess he just liked me better."

Azriel was so shocked that he could just sit there, staring. 

The other females laughed as the blonde continued, her lips curled in a sneer. "You should be happy for me, really," she said, her voice sugary sweet. "After all, you could never keep him happy. You've always been useless, haven't you?"

The comments made Azriel see red. What the hell was wrong with this female? Who treated their own sister like this? 

He had half a mind to go over there and wring her neck. 

*Don’t,* his shadows hissed. *You’ll make it worse.*

*Make it worse?! It can’t fucking get worse!* he hissed back. 

He itched to go over to the group, to protect his mate from these cruel, cruel words. 

*Yes, it can,* the shadows snapped. *What do you want to do? Massacre her sister right in front of her?!* Azriel growled under his breath. 

*Normally you are much more bloodthirsty,* he complained to the shadows. 

*You are the fucking spymaster. Act like it,* the shadows snapped. *You want us to make her sister’s life a misery? We’ll do it. We’ll do it and it will never be traced back to you. Besides, she deserves worse than a quick death.*

He clenched his teeth. 

The other females were laughing, but his mate...wasn't. She wasn't saying a single word, wasn't defending herself, wasn't saying anything. Just...just sitting there and taking the horrible abuse with a neutral, blank expression on her face.

"Cat got your tongue?" her sister asked her with a roll of her eyes. "I mean, it's not like you're good at talking, are you?" she asked her with a cruel little laugh. "Too bad for you that males want females that are able to have a conversation, not awkward little things who can't even speak when spoken to."

Azriel's body tensed as he listened to the words, every muscle coiled tight. It took every ounce of his control not to stride over to the group of females and punch her sister straight in the face. The only thing he wanted to do in that moment was to protect his mate.

The comment clearly found it's target, Azriel could see his mate flinch at the words, her face crumbling momentarily before it smoothed over into a neutral expression again. Gods...it must've hurt so badly to hear her sister speak to her like that…

*We’ll ruin her fucking life,* he vowed to the shadows. 

*Agreed, Master.”

Her sister rolled her eyes another time. "Come on, let's go," she told the other females. "You have the bill, don't you, Skylar?"

The words made Azriel snap. So the sister hadn't intended to even pay for her drinks in the first place? It was…they had just used her, he realised suddenly. Used her for the first stop on their tavern tour, to pick up the drink tab…and that was all she was good for in their eyes…

It was...Azriel couldn't stand by and watch this anymore, it made him so angry. So fucking furious.

"Ye...yes," his mate stuttered.

She looked so small in that moment, her eyes averted, her shoulders slumped, her hands trembling. She looked...wounded, so hurt, and Azriel was...he was sick of seeing her just accept this verbal abuse without a word. 

They left. They should thank the cauldron that they left at that moment, because otherwise Azriel would have made Cassian at his worst look like a puppy.

He wanted to storm after them, to give every single person in the group a piece of his mind, but that could wait. The most important thing right now was his mate. She was still here, after all. Azriel took a deep breath, and slowly, almost hesitantly walked towards her.

He watched as she didn't move, and he finally decided to speak, his voice a low, soft murmur. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the chair beside her.

Her head turned, and he felt his heart stop as her eyes met his for the first time. Up close, her eyes were...mesmerizing. A deep, sparkling blue, framed by long, lush eyelashes. He couldn't look away from her.

And she stared at him, her mouth slightly open, her eyes near comically wide.

He gave her a soft, slow smile. "Hi," he greeted her, his voice gentle. She blinked a few times, still staring at him, and he found it so cute, how shocked she was that he was talking to her. 

Her mouth opened but no words came out. She was staring at him like a poor bunny rabbit would at an apex predator , caught in his grasp.

For just a moment her scent went utterly haywire.

Caramel and Hazelnuts. So sugary sweet that he would have gladly rolled around in it. And she just stared at him, wide eyed, silent...until suddenly the scent changed to incadescent happiness.

"Oh." A small sound escaped her as she swallowed.

And he knew. He knew at that moment that the bond had just snapped for her.

[endearng]

Doomed

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: If you and Spencer had a nickel every time someone teased you after witnessing your interactions, you'd have two nickels, which isn't much — but it's weird that it happened twice. WC: 4.4k Warnings: Mentions of abandonment and I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: HI!!! I'm so obsessed with them... in a normal amount of course. I'm thinking about writing casually for them, who knows... Also,,,, who am I if not a morcia truther….. I hope you enjoy it! Feedbacks are always appreciated <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

You were doomed from the moment he bid you goodbye.

"So, who's he?" Victoria inquired, a sly smirk on her face and a bashful expression on yours.

"Who's who?" You asked, trying to feign nonchalance.

She groaned playfully, "You know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I don't." You winked, sitting on your couch again, between the two women. Sex and the City was playing on the TV across from the three of you.

"You're acting like us as freshmen when the seniors looked at us—" she retorted.

"I thought we didn't talk about that," Jude deadpanned.

"You're 'I don't know what you're talking about' me? I thought we were friends!" Victoria poked you in the rib.

"Ouch! He's just a friendly neighbor, that's it." You said, trying to cut the subject. Jude looked at you suspiciously. "White wine time."

From Spencer's apartment, he could hear the sound of chatter, joyful laughter and opening bottles for the rest of the night. He didn't know how to feel by your invitation, now that he had calmed down after looking you in the eye for a moment, technically, all by yourselves. He would definitely feel inappropriate at a kid's birthday where he barely knew the people who invited him, but he thought that Olivia's gesture was amazingly endearing. What could possibly be more childishly adorable than an infant trying to help and making a 'mistake'? And what could possibly be more devastatingly endearing than a mother taking advantage of said mistake to make it right?

Spencer studied the card for a moment. It fit the palm of his hand, tiny and delicate. It had a different address from yours and the time of the party, all of it lovely handwritten, just like the letters from calligraphy practice notebooks. It seemed like Olivia put a lot of effort in trying to perfect her handiwork. It read:

Hey, it's Oli!

I'm turning six and I want to celebrate it with you!

The contents of the slip of paper were adorned by dainty drawings related to birthdays: party hats, cake, gifts, some decoration and so on. It suddenly dawned on him that he was actually becoming closer to the people he always thought lived a perfect life. His mind had a tendency to wander and, for a fleeting moment, he thought about what it would be like to be part of that perfect life.

Olivia was a perfectionist child. He saw the expected behavior of the age in her manners, but the care with her work almost made him think someone else had done it for her. Something told him it wasn't the case, though.

Secured by two magnets, he placed Olivia's birthday party invitation on his fridge. You know, just so he wouldn't forget it — he tried to convince himself.

Everybody knew about his otherworldly memory, but he decided to forget it purposefully.

"Good morning, good ghost. I didn't see you anymore." Olivia greeted as she saw Spencer in front of the elevator. You were just locking your door closed, hyping yourself up for the week ahead of you when you heard it and a shiver ran down your spine. This, whatever it was, was getting out of hand.

"Good morning, Miss Olivia!" He said, a sweet tone of voice. You melted. "It's true. It's been a while. I was here on the weekend, but it seemed like you had other plans." He stuck his hand out for her to shake. She did it in a heartbeat.

"I was with my grandma and grandpa. They took me to the movies and grandpa made me lasagna." She explained as you approached them, adjusting your bag and Olivia's backpack in each of your arms. "Did'ya get my birthday party invitation?"

"Yes, I did! Thank you for inviting me. But, you know, your mother probably needed the rest of them for the other guests." He said as the elevator opened. He gestured for you to enter it first, so you did it with a grateful nod.

"Sorry, mommy. I didn't mean it." Olivia looked at you briefly, ashamed that you would call her out.

"I know, baby, 's okay. Everyone has one now." You assured her with a light tone. Breathe. "Hi, Spencer. Good morning." You said as he joined you in the elevator.

He breathed out, "Good morning. Hi." He had a big smile on his face, standing right next to you, you both facing the door and Olivia in front of you. Internally, he felt like a puppy who had his owners’ undivided attention.

Olivia pressed the button to the lobby. You noticed a book in his hands. Courage. "So, what are you reading, Spencer?"

He gulped. Were you talking to him? It took him a moment to get a grip and realize that he hadn't answered you. Struggling to find the words and suddenly unable to remember what he was actually reading. "Me? I'm just re-reading one of Dostoievski's books. Notes from Underground."

"Dosto-what?" Olivia chipped in.

You looked at her, ready to tell her to not interrupt someone, but couldn't stop yourself from giggling. Spencer watched it fondly. "It's Dostoievski, baby. D'you remember that one book with the 'ugly' cover that mommy was reading the other day?" You asked her, air quoting the word 'ugly'. “It wasn’t ugly. It just wasn’t pink.” You explained it, looking at Spencer. He grinned.

"Yeah. You didn't read to me because it was work." She said, getting distracted with one of her braids.

"Are you a teacher?" He asked, intrigued.

"No. I actually work for a publishing company. Sometimes I have interesting content to revise." You said, a tinge of irony in your voice. He smiled at you, feeling comfortable enough to joke around him without the awkwardness of that first encounter.

The elevator door opened. Olivia jumped out. "I bet it's interesting," was the best he could come up with. Tongue tied.

“Yeah. It’s a good book.”

Like a fucking teenager, he watched as you left with your daughter. Your mixed laughter echoing in the lobby as Olivia spinned around while you carried the weight all by yourself.

He scolded himself for not remembering to offer you help.

Two days later, a few states over, Spencer sat on a chair at the conference room of the precinct they were working with. The case was exhausting and he just wanted it to be over, but it wasn't that simple. He waited for Derek Morgan — he was his ride that night back to the hotel they were crashing on. He was in front of Derek as he and Penelope talked, her image on the computer screen. The man's nonchalant tone was a riddle for her to unsolve — everyone else was aware that there was definitely something between them (an unspoken dictionary worth of words), even if their interactions were deemed as jokes. Penelope, feeling very shy, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at her lap after a particular comment about her smile. As she did so, her eyes caught a glance of her watch. "Oh, shoot. I have to go," she murmured, relieved to have a way out of the exchange that had high chances of turning her into a nervous wreck. "I'm so sorry, handsome! Tomorrow is one of my friend's daughter's birthday."

A flash of disappointment crossed Derek's features. Not that she'd noticed. Instead of pressing her, he chose to say, "Need extra energy to keep up with the kids, babygirl?" Ah, there was it. The teasing tone. She was definitely imagining things.

"Not as much as I need to keep up with you, tiger," she replied with a wink, the dynamic between them quickly shifting back to the usual playful banter. Both of them wanted more than playful and far more than banter, but none of them had the courage to admit it, to be straightforward about it. Spencer understood it, really. Speaking made things too real. "But, seriously. I totally forgot to pick up her gift. Olivia loves reading, so I'll go to the mall. I'm glad I already bought it, so I won't get home late."

If he was a dog, Spencer's ears would have definitely perked up from how quickly he associated one thing to another. Could it be the same Olivia? Your Olivia? "Okay, mama. Be safe." Derek said.

"I will," she smiled as she hung up.

Idiots.

Maybe Derek was too serious about the "no profiling each other" rule they set.

"Let’s go, pretty boy," The dark-skinned agent stated. Spencer got up, grabbed his bag and made his way to the elevator with her.

As they chatted about nothing in particular, walking out of the precinct, he desperately wanted to ask him if she truly didn't see past Penelope's sudden shyness. It wasn't in his nature to do that, of course, but as Derek and Penelope were two of the most important people in his life, he wondered why wouldn't they be a thing by now, since they enjoyed themselves so much and were so open about their affections towards one another.

He was quickly ripped away from his thoughts when the man suddenly spoke up, “So, what's your deal lately, Reid? What's she like?"

The doctor choked on his own saliva, which made him cough like crazy. Derek laughed, but tried to help his panicked friend. "What was that, man?" he asked worriedly, once he saw Spencer had finally inhaled a gulp of air.

Face as red as a tomato, cough dying in his throat, "what was what?" Derek returned to his normal self once he noticed his friend was able to finally form a coherent sentence.

"You're gonna act dumb now that you almost died when I talked about her?" Derek questioned, teasing tone, "it was just a lucky guess, but I see you, Reid. You're daydreaming far too often for what's acceptable for the boy genius who's as focused as a laser beam."

Spencer looked straight ahead as they got to the exit. He should have cornered Derek first. "Why would you think it has anything to do with a 'her'?" He chuckled, nervous to be caught red-handed — even if he wasn't doing anything wrong.

Was it wrong to want? He felt like it was. All his life, really. Had no chance to want anything because either was a far too distant reality, person, happiness for him to grasp it or it was ripped away from him too soon, before he could even acknowledge what was happening inside him. That's why want was almost a foreign sensation for Spencer. He had been deprived of it for as long as he could remember.

"Because people get a little dumb when they're in love. At least, ordinary people do. Apparently, so do geniuses," he snickered, his mind also set on teasing Spencer.

Maybe it was dumb to reveal his secret, jaw dropping crush on his cute neighbor, but he wanted some sort of relief to that mess of tangled thoughts inside his head and the strange, to say the least, feelings brewing on his chest whenever he saw you. You barely knew each other. But he supposed it was yet another part of the want he wasn’t familiar with: it didn't need much and it took all consciousness out the door. It wasn't uncommon for him to feel like his heart was being ripped out of his chest whenever he was on the field, especially since he was often facing danger. The way the events were unfolding were scarily similar to his cases: he noticed you, made up theories based on your behavior and routine, and slowly, oh, so slowly, started to approach you. Not to put you away, but for more personal reasons.

What was different was the feeling in his heart, instead of the sensation of being squeezed painfully inside his ribcage, often leading to ragged breathing, now felt like it was being held delicately by a pair of caring, dainty hands. Either way, his heart was fighting in the frontline and relied on the other part to be calmed and saved. The least he could do was try to be careful, finally opting not saying anything to Derek.

"Just a lot on my mind lately," he chose to say, instead. Derek dropped the subject, too tired to press it further.

Olivia's party had come to an end an hour ago. You got to see old friends and talked until they got every single ounce of information about your life lately and so did you about theirs. Your daughter had enjoyed her party greatly, and hugged every. single. person. who came to wish her happy birthday and thanked them for being there. She paid little attention to the gifts, too focused on spending time with her friends, playing with them until the sugar rush wore off — all of them had a massive candy intake that day. You didn't spend much time with her, but she promised you that she would unwrap her gifts the next morning with you, the most adorable toothless grin on her face.

Despite everything flowing accordingly, all day long, your stomach churned with anticipation. You wondered if Olivia's dad would show up, since the day she was born was, quote, the happiest of his life. His parents did, and when you looked at them anxiously, his mother shot you a neutral glance. Not a word from his end was its meaning. Your daughter never asked anything about him during the day, which made you even more jittery. You feared she would have a breakdown at any time, so you paid extra attention to her.

It never came.

You had missed the deadline of a book chapter that you had to revise, too caught up on trying to balance everything in your life, so your parents told you they'd stay with her so you could go home to work and take her in the morning. Normally, you wouldn't accept it, but your father had decided you were too tired to wake her to go home, so you complied. Right after the guests left, you did all the steps of her night routine, except for the bedtime story — she was that tired of all the running around in the backyard. You were sure she would sleep all night long.

Once she dozed off, you stood for a moment in her grand-bedroom (she had come up with that and it kind of stuck with you). Your parents had decorated it while you were still pregnant. She needs to feel at home, was what your mother said when you walked in on them assembling her crib. You almost cried, overwhelmed with joy. Your fiancé, then, had rolled up his sleeves to help out. Oh, the irony.

Her room was full of photographs that held many memories of her six years of life. You could never imagine that you could love this much, let alone dedicate yourself so entirely to someone like you did for her. Even though it was hard and you often didn't feel like you were enough to raise her on your own, Olivia was a wonderful child and her gestures and overall behavior assured you you were doing a good job. The reflection brought tears to your eyes. You drove home by yourself.

Currently, in your apartment, it felt a little too big without Olivia in there — too many books, too many chairs, too much space on your sofa, too many toys scattered around with nobody to play with them. You sighed, deciding on going to the kitchen to make you a cup of tea — you felt like your brain was hammering inside your skull and you still needed to spend time in front of a computer screen. Going back to your small office to wallow in self pity and second guess yourself even as you read whatever material it was, you heard a knock on the door.

You checked your watch. 9p.m. On a Saturday.

Weird.

Through the peephole, you saw someone you truly weren't expecting. "Spencer?" You asked as you opened the door, surprise filling your being. "I didn't think you'd come, I supposed you were at work. I mean, sometimes it feels like you barely have a routine, heh. But, um, thanks for dropping by." You said, a little unfiltered. Not even five seconds in his presence and you were already making a fool of yourself in front of him.

He held a small bouquet of flowers in one of his hands and a gift in the other. To a stranger's eye, it seemed like he had missed your birthday and was trying to apologize for it. You blushed at the thought. He shut his eyes, sorry crossing his features. "I know. I'm sorry I missed it, even though I really didn't want to. You were right, I was away on a case." You smiled, dismissing his apologies and soothing his worries once you did so.

"It's alright with me. She was totally expecting you, though. Kept asking where you were for the first hour. Then she got distracted with candy," you told him, "so she's the one you're gonna need to apologize to." You joked.

"T—that's why I'm here."

"I'm just not sure if Olivia is old enough to get flowers," you said, face serious. His eyes went wide and it took him a moment to understand, but once he looked at your serious expression cracking, his shoulders shook with laughter, with you. If you had more attention, you'd seen the moment his ears turned red.

Your laughter died down. A beat of silence. "These are actually for you." He revealed.

You were stunned. "Oh," you said, suddenly at a loss of words. "Thank you so much."

He gave you the flowers and you gracefully accepted. You were mesmerized by them; colors swimming in harmony before your eyes and the scent making you feel dizzy. Maybe not the scent, but the emotions you were feeling with the surprise. He went out of his way to get you those flowers — it's safe to say that it had been a while since you felt that way. "I—I have no words, Spencer. Really. Thank you so much," your voice choked.

You looked at each other for a brief moment. You tried to show how much you appreciated his gesture. You grinned, trying to get out of that haze, "Do you want to come in? Oli's with my parents, so you won't be able to apologize today," you quipped, making room for him to enter.

"Yeah, I'd love to."

"You can place the giftbox on the coffee table." He went inside, toeing off his shoes in the small space you had before the living room. Once he was there, he saw you enter the kitchen to find a vase. He could see you from where he stood. "Make yourself at home. Do you want some tea? I have Earl Gray."

Your voice was distant as he took in his surroundings. "Yeah, I'd like it." He murmured as he looked around. Your walls were a light gray, adorned with pictures of you and Olivia, some people he assumed were some of your friends. The wall behind the sofa was entirely covered by a big bookshelf that went from one end to the other, filled with books and souvenirs from basically everywhere. The dark wood of the furniture complemented the light walls in a cozy way, some toys and kids books scattered around the floor. The apartment smelled like fresh printed sheets of paper and earl gray tea. You had a few indoor plants that looked well taken care of. Spencer was admiring your degree from Stanford, which hung on the wall beside the TV, almost close to the door.

"One of my biggest achievements. Besides Olivia, of course," you approached him with his mug of tea. Turning to you, he noticed through his peripheral vision that you had placed the flowers inside a vase and in your coffee table.

"Thanks," he said.

"So... are you okay?"

The question caught him off guard. What?

You smiled a little. "You always look kinda tired when I see you," you said, not thinking about how your words might be interpreted. Your eyes widened, realizing it. "I mean, no! Sorry! You're still pretty, don't worry. It's just— I asked because you might be going through something. Forget I said anything about your looks."

He would definitely never forget.

Spencer laughed, flustered, eyes softly gazing at you while you rambled like a madman. "I'm fine, thanks for asking. Sometimes my job is a little demanding and I'm forced to see some things that usually people don't even think exist," he confessed.

You bit your lip. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be," he retorted, "I have a great team to work with."

"I'm glad to hear that. Sorry I brought it up, you probably don't want to talk about work right now." You said, sipping on your tea.

"Yeah, you're right, again," he chuckled. "How was Olivia's birthday?" He tried a change of subject.

"That was actually the reason I was moping when you got here," you said, trying to force a chuckle. "It was nice, I guess. I was just on edge all day trying to anticipate her emotions regarding her dad, but I guess they never came. At least, not today." You beckoned him to sit with you on the couch, now facing each other directly.

"May I ask why?" He asked, tentatively.

"Why what?"

More hesitance. "Why wasn't he there?"

"From what I know, he moved away." You said, tone unreadable.

He worried that he was overstepping and wasn't sure that he would like to hear more about it. He was scared to find out unpleasant news, such as you still had feelings for him. "I'm sorry." Was all he could muster.

"Don't be. I have a great team," you repeated his words from earlier and he smiled at you.

His brain and tongue didn't seem to be working together that night, he was so avid to know more. "Did you always have support?"

"My parents didn't like the idea of having a single mother when they first heard it. It hit me hard back then, but then I realized it was better to be alone than to stay in an unhappy relationship, especially since Olivia was already in the picture." You said, setting your own mug on the coffee table.

"What happened?" Stop it.

He couldn't help it, he was too curious. It was his first opportunity to truly know the novel sort of family that you had. Apparently, not so much.

"He was distant before leaving. Someone else, maybe?" You asked, rhetorically, a crease between your eyebrows. "I never found out, but I don't want or need to, either. His parents absolutely love Olivia and they were there today, 's all that matters."

"You’re a very strong person."

"I have to be," you said, softly. "You’re a very good listener."

A rush of courage running through his veins. Deciding on not taking the road of unsaid things, like his friends were earlier. Don’t dance around the subject, take the opportunity. Dare. "And you're just as pretty."

The world stopped. You looked at him in disbelief. It didn't last much. A knock on your door. Scratch that: someone banging on your door.

You pinched your eyebrows together. Spencer stood up, almost as if he was doing something wrong. You looked at him, apologizing, "I'm not expecting anyone."

You walked to the door and he stood behind you, telling you he was going to let you be. You didn't want to and you were already chastising yourself from not trying to talk to him and focusing on your problems instead. You opened the door and in the threshold stood Penelope Garcia, gift basket in hands. Before you could speak, both of your guests spoke at the same time.

A mortified "Garcia?" from Spencer.

A surprised "Spencer?" from Penelope.

Finally, a confused "Do you know each other?" from you.

"Yeah. We work together." Spencer replied. "What are you doing here, Penelope?"

"What are you doing here, boygenius?" Her tone now was teasing, a cheshire grin on her face. You were acting confused, but you were loving to see Spencer so out of place.

"I... I was..." He trailed off.

Poor thing. "He came to drop Olivia's gift. We're neighbors." You explained, trying to save him from further embarrassment.

She glanced between you two, eyes full of mirth behind her glasses. "I'm here to do the same." She said, smiling as she handed you the basket, which you took carefully and thanked her with a side hug. "There's her present, sweetcheeks. I'm so sorry I couldn't be there, you know how much I miss you and Olivia. But I'm sure our genius told you all about it." Her sentimental words truly held emotion, but she turned her attention to Spencer once again. The opportunity was too good to let go.

Spencer looked like a fish out of water. You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. "Garcia, can we talk?" He asked abruptly. "I'm sorry, I have to go." He murmured in a much more soft tone to you.

He could never resume whatever was going on in there because he felt like he had been caught with his pants down.

You were so surprised you didn't even process what was your answer, forgetting to ask if Penelope wanted to come in or anything. "I—Okay. I'll see you, then." With a small smile and slight disappointment in your voice. He all but dashed out of your apartment and took Garcia, who had a mischievous expression on her face, with him. You closed your door and looked at the mix of flowers. A sigh escaped you. Damn, Garcia.

Spencer was escorting Penelope back to her car, ready to bury himself alive because he knew she would run her mouth and knew precisely to whom she would tell about it. And, of course, the endless jokes he would hear during the next few days. "Sooooo..." She trailed off, suggestively.

"I—don't want to talk." She opened her mouth, but had no success in talking. "Not. A. Word."

She entered her car and started the engine as he waited for her to go. But before she started driving, she yelled, "I knew you had it in you, Reid."

From your balcony, work long forgotten, you watched Spencer hide his face in his hands in utter embarrassment.

You were doomed.

[trippinsorrows]

ltye: in your hands

authors note: welp. here i am, once again. we're back with yet another 'what if' scenario, prompted by you lovely people in an ask that i can't seem to find to link right now. smh.

words: 3.3k

warnings: none. just sam being sam.

song inspo: in your hands by halle

Roman should have stuck with his first mind. Stayed home. Texted her some excuse about being caught up with work. She would have never found out the truth, and even if she did, he wouldn’t have given two fucks. 

Because this shit doesn’t seem to be getting any better. 

This dating thing. 

It’s gotta be at least the fifth or sixth one he’s taken her on, and each one has been just as miserable up until the point where he gets her on her knees, gagging or bouncing on his dick the minute they get back to his penthouse. Anything before that has been irksome, borderline miserable. 

Samantha is stunning. Has been since they were kids, and her body is the most desirable of the women he has on his roster. She leans on the thinner side of what he prefers, but the tits and ass are decent, regardless. She’s also just as kinky as him, which is why they’ve worked all these years.

But, the more “dates” Roman forces himself to power through, the more he’s starting to feel like bedroom activities is where it stops for them. 

Technically, he’s always known this. Even if he did have some level of desire to be in a real relationship with someone, which he doesn't, it would never be her. She’s vain, condescending, and seems to think she’s somehow better than the other women he fucks with.

If only she realized he views her just like he views the rest of the women. A warm body with a wet cunt to help him get his dick wet. 

“Roman!” Her voice cuts through his inner dialogue as he focuses on her cleavage. The dress she wore, short and tight, doesn’t help his desire to skip to the fucking part of this evening. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No.” Roman sees no sense in lying to her. “I probably don’t care either.”

She rolls her eyes and proceeds to continue like he literally didn’t just tell her he doesn’t care. “I was saying we should go somewhere.”

He’s partially intrigued now. Mostly because he’ll probably need to set her ass straight. “Where?”

She smiles and shrugs. “I don’t know. I was thinking Bora Bora.”

He shakes his head. “So go.”

She frowns, clarifying. “I said we should go, Roman.”

He scoffs, looking off at the ice sculpture in the middle of the upscale restaurant. A waste of money, in his opinion. “What the hell makes you think I have time to go to fucking Bora Bora with you?” He really wants to ask her what makes her think he would want to in the first place, but he’s trying to be somewhat less of an asshole to see if maybe this could work.

His Wise Man’s nervous voice balanced out with sage wisdom returning to the front of his mind.

“If the Elders are to force you into a marriage, why not with someone you already know? Especially someone who you know would have no issue in giving you an heir.”

If only Samantha wasn’t so fucking annoying.

She leans back in the chair. “You make time for these dates.”

Out of obligation. But, he won’t say that. “Yeah, but I can get my nut and send your ass packing in the same night. Can't do that if we're out of the fucking country.”

“You’re suck a di—”

“I’m so sorry.”

Soft. It’s the first thing that comes to mind hearing her voice. Light, almost. Kind. Even with just three words being spoken. And that’s just based off audio. Visually, Roman’s thoughts take an entirely different direction.

Stunning. 

Roman’s seen, entertained, and done a lot more with some beautiful women in his time, but the one standing at their table seems to have something more than all of them put together. She’s beautiful, easily one of the most gorgeous women he’s ever laid eyes on. And her smile, small but genuine makes him pause. As does her body.

She’s wearing the same uniform he’s noticed on the other waitresses, but none of them fill them out like she does. The white, long sleeved shirt that’s tucked into the knee length black pencil skirt can’t hide the curves he can practically see through the bland outfit. Nice, heavy breast. Curvy hips, thick thighs and an ass he can partially see from the front. 

This. This is his preferred body type. A woman who has something he can grab onto when he’s fucking her from behind. And Roman can only imagine what it would be like to be holding onto those luscious hips of hers while he—

“Oh my god, are you stupid?” Samantha’s annoying voice once again pulls him from his carnal fantasies. She gestures between herself and him. “Can you not see we’re in the middle of something?”

The girl, who Roman would guess is in her late twenties, early thirties at most, immediately looks repentant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—I was just going to apologize for your wa—”

“Whatever.” Samantha lifts her hand, silencing the girl who’s now looking down at her shoes, clearly embarrassed. “What’s the special for this evening?”

“What’s your name?” Roman’s question comes out at the same time as Samantha’s inquiry. However, his voice clearly presents with more of a commanding nature. 

She swallows. “S–Solana.”

Pretty. Just like her. 

Samantha notices the way Roman is looking at her and is fully confused as to why he’s asking this fat troll for her name. She cuts in again, in that same nasty tone. “Hello? I asked you a question.” 

Solana is clearly struggling with Samantha’s aggressiveness, Roman wondering why this bitch is directing whatever unresolved feelings she has onto this innocent girl. “Umm, I think—”

Samantha scoffs, nose turned up. “You’re our waitress, and you don’t even know what the evening special is?”

“No ma’am, I do. I’m sorry. It’s just—it’s been a long day.” There’s a weight to her words, a sadness in her voice and in her pretty brown eyes. Roman notices all of these things and finds himself wondering what the story is. Everyone has one, and hers is suddenly of interest to him. For reasons he cannot understand. 

“Pretty unprofessional to bring up your personal life, don’t you think?”

Solana closes her eyes, pausing before answering. She looks exhausted. Mentally and physically. “It’s Squab. That’s the main co—”

“I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat.” Roman rolls his eyes. This hoe has been saying that since they were in high school, yet every so often she goes back to having a normal fucking diet only to switch back to that salad shit. “What’s on your—”

“I’ll do us both a favor and get her to shut the fuck up.” Roman has had enough, both of Samantha’s grating voice but mostly her being a bitch to this girl for no reason. He’s a dick on the regular. He knows this. But, never has he come across someone like this Solana woman who, with just her presence alone, exudes such softness. Like, she doesn’t have a mean bone in her fine ass body. And she clearly doesn’t because anyone else would have probably lost their job by cussing Samantha out. Not that it wouldn’t be deserved.

Roman catches the faintest hint of a smile on Solana’s face as she redirects her attention to him. “Give her the salmon. I’ll take your best steak. For wine, you carry Madeira?” 

She’s pulled out her notepad and finishes taking down the order before answering with a nod. “Yes, sir.”

Roman’s jaw clenches at that sir bit. He could ruin this girl. “What do you recommend?”

She’s visibly taken back by his question, probably by the fact that he’s asking her for her opinion. “Umm—”

“Roman, I can rec—”

“I didn’t ask you,” he cuts that bitch off with the quickness, eyes never leaving the pretty girl before him. “I asked Solana.”

Her smiles widens as she answers in a more confident tone. “Julio Barros…..1950.”

Roman smirks. 

Exactly what he was going to order.

“I’ll take it.”

Their gazes linger on each other a second too long for Samantha’s liking as she cuts in once once more. “You can go now.”

Solana’s smile drops again, Roman suddenly finding himself all annoyed. Her smile is something pretty that he wouldn’t mind seeing more of, though that irritation is waned as he’s granted the view of her nice, round ass and curvy hips swaying as she walks to the back to turn in their order.

Samantha reaches over and touches his hand, Roman snatching it back and sneering at her. “What?”

She sighs. “Baby, I’m trying to talk about us.”

And just like that, he’s annoyed all over again. “There is no us.”

Samantha looks sad only for a brief second. “Roman, I’m not stupid. I know what these dates have been for. You’re trying to see if it could work.”

“If what could work?”

“Us.” She goes on to share. “There’s rumors that the Elders have been putting more pressure on you to settle down and make an heir.” Sam leans over the table, intentionally trying to emphasize her cleavage. It’s nice. He’ll give her that. But, he’s certain it’s nothing compared to Solana though and those big breast of her hers. “I can do that for you. Be that for you. Be your wife. The mother of your children.”

Not a damn thing she’s saying sounds even the least bit desirable. At all. 

“I mean, we’ve been fucking around since we were kids. Why not make it official?”

For a lot of reasons. All the reasons. The main one being Roman don’t like this bitch unless she’s choking on or riding his dick. 

What he does like, however, and finds solace in is the interactions with Ms. Solana as the evening goes on. They’re not very often outside of her bringing the bottle of wine and their food when it’s ready as well as a check-in here or there on how they’re doing.

Each time Samantha sending her the dirtiest look or just being an ol’e nasty bitch, to which Roman shuts down, cutting her off and even telling her to shut the fuck up.

The girl is just trying to do her damn job. And as his eyes locate and land on her on several different occasions, he can see that she works hard. Moving from table to table, almost saddened facial expression indicates she’s on the receiving end of more verbal lashings from people like Samantha.

That actually pisses him off, Roman having to control and stop himself from doing some out of pocket shit. 

Again, for what reason, he hasn’t the slightest clue. He just knows those brief glimpses of her actually smiling, usually when she’s chatting with a coworker, do something for him. 

Maybe even to him. 

And unbeknownst to him, the intrigue goes both ways, because as shitty a day Solana Miller was having, the handsome stranger with the rude girlfriend or wife or whatever has somehow, someway made this day just a little bit better.

It’s been some time, if ever, Solana has come across someone with such a presence about them. Him dining at this uppity restaurant she was able to score a job at tells her that he’s wealthy. His disposition and the fact that he somehow secured it to where the surrounding tables of where he sits have been marked as unavailable tells her that he has pull. But, the way he interacts with her, a literal nobody, she’s not sure what that means.

Especially with the beautiful woman he’s with, because while Solana thinks she’s every bit a bitch as most of the women who come into this place, she’s a stunning bitch. 

Which is why Solana can’t allow herself to believe that that equally beautiful looking man is looking at her in any sort of capacity. 

There’s no way in he—

“Solana.”

And just like that, she's frowning again. “Mami?”

The last thing she expected to see this evening was the sight of her mother, already dressed in her scrubs, baby in her arms. 

Solana’s baby. 

Her 11-month–old daughter, Soraya. 

The shock wears off as Nina gets closer, Solana shaking her head, “what are you—”

Nina shakes her head, face apologetic and tone contrite. “I’m so sorry, baby, but I got called into work. I can’t watch Raya.”

Shit

It's inconvenient, but Solana understands it. She remembers the countless times Nina had no other option but to leave her with a neighbor after being called into work at all kinds of hours. She’s always worked so hard to take care of the two of them when Solana was growing up. 

“It’s okay, mama.” Solana easily reaches for her daughter, a wave of relief and happiness washing over her as she holds and kisses her baby. The source of all her joy. All of the struggle, every bit of it, is worth it as long as she has her daughter. She’d do anything for her. “How was she?”

Nina gives a small chuckle. “She’s like you were and still are. An easy child.” Solana kisses Soraya’s temple. “Sol…..” And just like that, Solana already knows she’s probably not going to like what she’s about to hear. “I know you’ve said you don’t want to go after him for child support, but it’s not fair for you to be out here working two jobs while putting yourself through school to take care of his child.”

Solana holds Soraya just a smidge tighter. “She’s my baby, mami.” 

Nina counters. “She’s his biological child.” Solana looks away, hopeful her manager, Aldis, doesn’t come out and scold her for this little interaction. She’s scheduled to clock out in another half hour anyway. “He should be paying you child support.”

Her mom is right. Solana knows this, knows that it’s not fair for her to have to be the sole provider for her baby girl, while Cruz lives his best life as an absentee, deadbeat dad. And she’s considered on several occasions going to the courthouse to see what she needs to do to get that ball rolling. 

But, every time, she’s haunted by something he said the last time they spoke, not even a month after her daughter was born. 

“Don’t you get it? We were fine before she came in the picture! We could be fine again if she wasn’t.”

Solana’s never been more disturbed than she was to hear those words leave his mouth. That’s why she’s glad he’s gone, that he wants nothing to do with her or his child. Because she would never trust to leave her baby girl with him in the first place.

And if that means she does it without him contributing financially, that’s exactly what she’ll do. 

Solana shifts Soraya from one hip to the other. “I don’t need him, mami.” And she doesn’t. Because if Solana had to resort to sex work to take care of herself and her daughter, it’s exactly what she’d do.

Nina gives a heavy sigh. “Mija, you know I help you when I can.”

“I know.” Because she does. But, the same way that times are hard for her. They’re hard for her mom, too. Everyone’s struggling these days, it seems. Everyone except the rich people who wine and dine without a care in the world around them. “I’ll be okay.”

Always will be.

Nina gives a knowing nod, hugging her daughter and gently taking her granddaughter’s hand, kissing it, speaking in Spanish. “I’ll see you later, okay? Abuela loves you.”

Solana smiles. “Thanks, mama.”

“Always, baby.” 

Nina reaches Solana the diaper bag, Solana placing it on the bar stool, knowing it’s bound to be left alone. These rich ass people would never bother with the Ross purchase. With a final parting smile, Nina is off to the hospital, leaving Solana with her daughter who’s just now waking up.

“Hi, baby girl,” Solana giggles at the almost cranky expression on her baby’s face. Raya is definitely not the happiest camper when being woken up. 

A glance at the time reminds Solana that she technically is still on the clock and really shouldn’t have her child with her. But, with no other option, she accepts she’ll just have to clock out early and take whatever those consequences are.

But before that, the least she can do is grab the bill from the table where the handsome stranger and his girlfriend sat. She’s briefly disappointed to see the table empty, even if she remembers his deep voice thanking her for her assistance this evening as she brought them that same check earlier. 

It’s a silly thing, really. And she tries to push away the disappointment at not properly telling him goodbye. A stranger. 

Silly.

Soraya grasps at the collar of her shirt while Solana walks over to the table, pausing as she gets close enough to see that there’s more than just a bill with a signature. There’s cash. A stack of it. Money in hand, she’s confused, because this man paid with a black card, so what—

“Good.” 

Solana gaps and spins around, her eyes widening as she looks up. He’s a lot taller than she realized, burly body nearly eclipsing her view of anything else, silky black hair in such a neat, perfect bun. “Wanted to make sure you got it.”

Brows furrowed, it’s hard for her to speak for a lot of reasons. One of which is the fact that this man cannot be real. A man cannot be this handsome. But, he is real, and he’s looking at her.

And Soraya. 

“I—” She shakes her head, clearing her throat. “Is this—you already paid—”

“That’s not for the bill,” his voice is so velvety, smooth, and deep. “It’s your tip.”

Eyes widening, her gaze snaps to the wad of cash as Soraya continues to grasp and squeeze her shirt. She doesn’t even need to count to know that this is a nice amount of money. 

Too much.

“I can’t—it’s too much.” 

He chuckles, “do I look like I can’t afford it?” Her eyes roam over his big, muscular build dressed in fine, expensive looking clothes. He just oozes wealth. 

And power. 

“N–no.”

“Dealing with Samantha, trust me, you earned it.” Solana looks down, wanting to hide her small smile. His gaze redirects to the child in her arm. “Who is this?”

And just like that, Solana’s proud smile returns. “My daughter, Soraya.” It’s like Soraya knows she’s being discussed, lifting her little head to look at Roman. A big grin on her face before she buries her face into Solana’s neck. 

Roman makes a sound, and she can almost swear she sees the smallest smile on his handsome face. “She looks like you.”

That creates such a warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach, “thank you…..”

He looks at her a bit confused, like her unspoken question surprises him, before answering. “Roman.” Roman. “Roman Reigns.”

Roman Reigns. Even his name is powerful.

It fits him.

Solana shifts Soraya around as she starts to get wiggly in her arms. “Well, thank you, Mr. Reigns.” She’s certain the shock of just how much money this random, rich stranger has given her hasn’t truly set in. Because if it had, she’d have a much more visceral response. 

A lot more.

“Roman,” he corrects. “Call me Roman.” 

“Roman….” 

Something indecipherable flashes in his eyes, something that makes her feel a bit unnerved under his intense stare. It’s broken, however, by her now irritated daughter.

“Mama.” Soraya makes her dissatisfaction at being still for too long known by punching her tiny fist against Solana’s chest. “Mama!”

“Shhhhh,” Solana kisses her temple, trying to quiet her down before someone makes Aldis aware of her presence. She looks at Roman, eyes softening, “thank you again.”

Truly. Honestly. He hasn’t the slightest clue how much this will help her. It’s why she can stand here without anxiety and concern about making it to the bus stop on time. Tonight.....tonight she’ll treat herself and her baby with calling an Uber instead. 

Might even stop and pick up dinner.

Roman nods, eyes briefly glancing at her daughter again, the smallest smile on his face. “I’ll see you later, Solana.” His head dips a bit in acknowledgment towards her baby. “Soraya.”

The smile is plastered on her face even as he walks off without another word. And it’s only a good two minutes later that she catches onto what he said. A certain word in particular standing out the most. 

What did he mean by later?

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

Okay, imma be real? I think this fandom gets way too upset over characterization differences between books (this'll be a long one just let me explain).

I see a lot of posts in the WOF fandom about how certain characters got ruined in the next books or how their characterizations were completely screwed over. A lot of posts also are like, "Oh, Tui messed up X character in this book so badly!" Or "All their personality has changed in this book, what happened to my favorite character?" and so on like that.

This kind of thing, ESPECIALLY after rereading the series recently, then coming back to the fandom, pisses me off to NO END for a couple of reasons.

1. Tui wasn't "ruining" your favorite characters personality in the next book, because the focus of the next book wasn't the character in question. The spotlight is on another character entirely, and trying to micromanage THAT many personalities to their truest form is INCREDIBLY difficult.

2. Plotting out character personalities is a GRUELING process, coming from someone who does a lot of writing. ESPECIALLY if it's original characters, because then you can't just pull from fandom or canon, you gotta do that shit yourself. And over the course of the canon, their personality is gonna change!

This brings me to my last point and probably the biggest reason:

3. EVERY BOOK IS FROM A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE.

This has been a STAPLE of the Wings of Fire books from the VERY BEGINNING. With every new book, we as readers are jumping from one dragon's mental space to the next, learning about their traits and quirks and how they perceive the world around them, every single time we pick up the next book in the series. It's what helps give us those deeper insights into the characters that yall get so angry about when they aren't immediately represented in the next book, when that dragon is no longer our spotlight.

Also, when we are learning about the other dragons before we jump to their perspectives, the character that we are reading about is already making assumptions and assigning traits that they think correlate with the character in question! We are seeing the world through their eyes and thoughts, so when we move to another perspective, that dragon is doing the exact same thing, even though now we know more about one of the other characters!

And then the fandom gets hissy when the first character gets relegated into the background and assigned some base personality traits, even though that's exactly what happened before.

Personally, I think the ones who suffer from this the MOST are Clay in Arc 1 and Moon in Arc 2. Clay, according to fans, gets boiled down to nothing but his love for food, even though we see in his, Sunny's, and Peril's perspectives that he's more than that. His behaviors also directly correlate to why he gets that kind of background trait (although that's a whole other rant), and every time I see someone saying that Clay got screwed over by characterization, I take psychic damage.

And Moon. God, yall, Moon gets it THE WORST FROM YOU. I've seen SO MANY POSTS about how she got boiled down to nothing but a love triangle piece in the later arcs, which is only partly true, but we also see from ALL OF THOSE PERSPECTIVES (Qibli and Winter specifically) that the traits they're assigning her are both different aspects of how her character worked in the first book and what two lovestruck, moons-blinded dumbasses are seeing and choosing to view her as.

Her book even SHOWS how much of a NIGHTMARE it would be to have every character be deep and know their inner thoughts at all times. Moon herself gets mentally and physically overwhelmed near CONSTANTLY during the majority of her book, and I'm not even technically factoring in Darkstalkers' influence.

All of that to say, Wings of Fire fandom, is to stop losing your SHIT over how your characters might seem flat or not like they were in their books. All of these perspectives are different, and if you motherfuckers actually took some time to reread the books while actively LOOKING for those hints of your silly guys being the same silly guys, just from another dragon's POV, then maybe yall wouldn't be so pissed off about characterization in the books nearly HALF as often.

I don't even care how much discourse this is gonna spark I just felt the incredible urge to tell yall to use those skills you learned in English class and chill the FUCK OUT on this topic.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. Now go use your eyes :>

.

[s-wave-entertainment]

*BAM*

THAT WAS THE SOUND OF ME BUSTING THE DOOR DOWN. HI. Okay so first thing's first, I recently saw an animatic (??) by @/armintist on Instagram about N's perception of Tessa as of ep. 6 and it has broken the dam. Your honor I think about what must have been going through his head at that given moment So Often; some may say too often (I know my roommate definitely would, sorry Anna-). Y'all, he literally just remembered her existence and because we have no canon timeline as to how long was between eps. 5&6, I'm going to assume it was no LESS than two hours, IF EVEN. Doll could have gone straight to "Tessa" from Uzi's house, we'll never know. But like... what in the fuck was going on in his brain? This person, who he KNOWS that he knows, that he has vague, barely comprehensible memories of from a time far back into his past that he only just got back, is suddenly standing right in front of him again. And he hesitates, because OF COURSE HE DID. It looks like her (or does it? He doesn't remember his face, he never even truly saw it), it sounds like her, it feels like her... but how long has it been? And why here, why now?

Honestly, "Cyn's" pretty smart. She knew he would be willing to go along with what he told her because he's never really pressed into his memories before. He's relieved the tidbits of them, sure, but he tends to acknowledge them and move on. She knew all she had to do was act right and he would probably trust her. But what she didn't account for was him finding a love worth fighting for, and that's where her ultimate fucky-wucky was. But I'm not here to talk about "Cyn's" strategy, I'm here to talk about our beloved traumatized murder robot puppy.

What do you think happened when it hit him that that skin over Cyn's body wasn't of it's own creation? That his friend was technically still alive, if you count her preserved remains being thrown over a robot body like some sick and twisted reverse fursuit. And it can't be said that that didn't happen, because it definitely did. N's little episode in the hallway while "Cyn" hunted them down showed us that he is in fact recovering his memories. Slowly, and at very unfortunate times, but he is. And I can almost guarantee you that at some point, in some way, he must have recovered the full memory of the gala massacre. And oh me oh my, that must have been a long, hard day for him. Thank God he has Uzi now-

That aside, he must eventually realize what happened. And as he remembers more and more good times with her, his little heart probably just shattered more and more. Along with all of the other BULLSHIT he must be remembering following ep. 8.

AND ANOTHER THING ON THAT NOTE. I have so so so many emotions about N and how good he is and how,,,, Genuinely Good his heart is. Like actually. Y'all, need I remind the court that he was supposed to KILL Uzi. He had her PINNED TO THE WALL with a wing, but after watching her father turn around and ABANDON HER, he stopped. And sure, it can be reasonably said that this is because he spent some time with Uzi beforehand, but how long would they have had together, logistically? Ten minutes, maybe twenty, tops?? The fact that that was enough for him to COMPLETELY CHANGE SIDES and want to help her instead (which is also attributed to the conversation they had in the cockpit but again, TEN MINUTES)... listen, Uzi had no one before she found N, but N had no one either. J openly abused him, and V had to act like she hated him to protect him. N was lonely, just like Uzi. Somehow, someone found him who was kind to him and seemed to actually care. She was a little edgy, but she talked to him and she listened. It was more than he had at the base - and the same was true for Uzi. But again, I could talk about how much I love NUZI for hours, right now I want to talk about how good N's heart is. He was a worker, once. A worker who did everything he could to be... useful, to Tessa's parents, but a good friend to Tessa. And he loved his friends. He has,,, so much love in his heart. He always has. And he gives it so readily, and it can hurt him, but he like - he gets better about it, I believe. He can guard himself better these days, but he just. He still cares. And he cares so much and he just. GOD. GOD I LOVE HIM AND I FEEL SO TERRIBLE FOR WHAT HE'S BEEN THROUGH. FUCKING HELL-

[kei-crocker]

Headcanon for me:

Post-AGIT Dan doesn’t cling to his biological parents. Based on what he says and does in "The Ultimate Enemy," he doesn’t show anything particularly special toward them. In fact, Maddie’s actions toward him felt a bit harsh to me, especially when she said, “He is not my son!” in AGIT. (Of course, I completely understand why she acted like that—they nearly got killed by him, the city was destroyed, and they don’t remember Dan’s original timeline.)

(And given that half of him is Plasmius, maybe it feels odd for him to see Maddie and Jack as his parents.)

Jazz, though, was different. To be fair, her circumstances were different from those of her parents. She fully understood who Dan was (even though her parents technically knew too, they seemed to view him only on a superficial level). Jazz even had(more specifically, remember) direct experience meeting him before. The first person to show interest in talking to Dan and sparing him was Jazz. Her feelings toward Dan were not just out of mercy, but closer to familyship, I think. Mercy wouldn’t be much use when the one you’re sparing is far stronger than you. Humans weren't exactly in a position to show mercy to him. Jazz believed that Danny was inherently good, so she thought Dan was one who could be persuaded. Before Danny tried to spare him, she was the only one who’d been willing to.

I imagine Dan’s feelings toward Danny and Vlad are far more complicated. I believe that at his core, Dan’s main feeling is self-hatred. He probably hates the part of himself (Danny) that lost everything he once loved, and his Plasmius side only amplifies that feeling.

At the same time, Dan must feel jealousy toward Danny. Danny has the second chance that Dan never got—he used Dan as a warning and went on to build a better future. In AGIT, we see Dan’s feelings go beyond just hate; his anger toward Danny seems to be fueled by jealousy. After his world vanished, the one clear goal Dan had left was to destroy Danny and make him feel that same despair.

As for Vlad, I think Dan might have at least some positive feelings for him. Of course, Dan was once Danny, and in his timeline, Vlad probably bullied (?) him like always. But when Dan lost everything, Vlad was the one who took him in and cared for him like his father. Even Vlad’s actions that led to creating Dan weren’t out of malice but came at Danny’s request, as Danny was suffering so much. I imagine Vlad really did his best to look after him in that timeline.

That said, Dan could never fully love Vlad. Being partly Plasmius himself, Dan knows Vlad’s darker (or weaker) sides all too well. And, after all, it was Vlad’s actions that led to such a terrible outcome, even if he had no evil intent.

The irony is that the two people who ultimately saved him were Danny and Vlad. His parents only saw Dan as a dangerous ghost, while Danny, understanding Dan’s feelings, didn’t want to hurt him. In the end, it was Danny and Vlad’s actions that saved Dan and gave him that second chance he’d longed for. So, after AGIT, I imagine Dan becomes a little friendlier but still can’t fully accept them, holding onto a slightly bitter attitude. Now that his deepest self has been exposed, we might see him as a sensitive, wounded spirit rather than his formerly confident self. Still, his existence is a shared responsibility for Danny and Vlad, and they’ll do their best to help him find happiness and enjoy this second chance. Maybe one day, Dan may open his heart to them.

[kodrama]

#kdramawomensweek

DAY 3: THE HELP

[knifekris]

every day i struggle to make choices

[foxett]

Some au doodles uhmmmm yeah I made another new au I'm at 11 omori AUs...

[shidoukanae]

TME PMV frame thingie WIP

I absolutely adore Helene and Lyla's relationship in both iterations of TME's story and i NEED more qpt gal relationships like theirs is i s2g

it's really, REALLY hard to get me sincerely invested in relationships between female characters but damn am i invested in this one.

Something about a do-good heroine who is abnormally hostile only towards her own half-sister for seemingly no reason (read: "no reason") is a dynamic i can't get enough and seeing Lyla constantly make efforts in both the manhwa/LN to reach out to her is so bittersweet and yet amazingly well done

(and i can't praise enough how amazing Helene is handled as a deeply flawed female character!!! She's genuinely the best written female character ive seen and i wish more gals were written as amazing as she is TwT)

[the-winds-of-destiny-xxx]

.

[arolesbianism]

hello gamers minor life update I have been doing Real bad lately so I will likely continue to be very inactive, but hey on the bright side I have been fleshing out some eternal gales lore I reworked a while back and I can happily say that Dodie no longer completely contradicts the very nature of reality in eternal gales and the fog tower™ officially has a real reason to exist again so hell yeah to that

[nope-body]

.

[fingertipsmp3]

I never leave mlm groups I get invited to on fb, and I’m sure the people who start the groups are really annoyed and confused by why I stay despite never contributing or buying anything, but the thing is I just find it so interesting to observe how these people peddle their wares

[on-the-clear-blue]

Little idea wiggling about in my brain...

So like *holds Danny and Billy up by the scruff of their shirts* these two bastards won't leave my brain, and for punishment I will make them kiss...

Just, the Rock of eternity technically is Shazam's (the wizards) haunt? He has been dead for a long time, living only though his champion, what if Ghost King Danny gets slapped with a post it note that reads like

"Daniel, you're required to assist the Champion of Magic as the High King of the Realms, even Pariah helped the previous Champion Black Adam."

And Danny is like, "Sure, why not, Magic is real and so are ghosts."

And like....

Sparky Danny meeting Literal Sun Beam Billy, they are both 14, it's puppy love at its finest. Danny doesn't know what to do with gay panic and Billy is just straight up "This man is my soul mate, he shall be mine." (Call iy Zeus bestowing more than just lightning)

The leauge is very concerned why Captain Marvel seems to have a seeming underage partner.

Superman squinting very hard and trying to figure this out: So...just how old is Phantom?

Billy, unaware how bad this looks: Oh I don't know honestly, it's kinda hard to tell with beings from the Realms! Though he died when he was 14!

Superman, gripping the table (which cracks a little) :And how exactly long has he been 14?

Billy, taking out his phone and flipping out pictures: Like I said, I don't really know how old he is, but there is Egyptain hieroglyphics of him! Look!

Superman, blinking at the very real looking pictures: Ahh. Fun cool cool cool...a-and how are you again Cap?

Billy mindlessly swiping the photos, excited to show off his boyfriend:Never said it, but he is definitely older than I am.

(Danny is older by a month, Billy calls him an old man for it.)

Billy gets to live full time in Danny's haunt in the Zone, Danny built him like the best house, Tucker and Sam get to meet Billy and they just are flabbergasted that Danny "I can't get a girl to date me or else she ends up wanting to kill me" Fenton has a boyfriend that has been going steady for a few months.

My brain sees like, Maddie and Jack are 100% backing Danny, they are fully supportive of their bi/gay/pan son, but in no way would they support him if he was a ghost, like they are organizing Amitys first ever Pride parade, but there is a shoot ghosts on sight order.

And just the reveal is like...

Danny gets finally tells them he is a ghost: if you start shooting me, your shooting the only Gay person you know, not very ally of you mom and Dad.

Maddie mouth open in horror: Oh no...Jack are...are we homophobic?

Jack sharing her look of fear: Great Scott...Dann-o a-are you sure...its...it's a life style right? Y-you chose this?

Danny, trying very, very hard not to laugh: It's not a life style dad! I didn't choose to Die!

Anyway, thank you for coming to my brain word vomit, I haven't slept in 20 hours.

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Part 1

[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4]

To not turn into a giant raging asshole hell bent on murdering people and destroying the world after everyone he loved died, Danny had ran from Amity with his chosen vice.

A bottle. That’s right. Even after Jazz’s talks about alcoholism as a poor coping mechanism as a form of self harm, he still chose alcohol. Or maybe that’s why he picked it, because it reminded him of her, right before the booze took the sting of grief off of her memory. He was never really all that good at listening to Jazz.

And now she’s gone, so it’s moot point. Danny really hated Nasty Burger.

Danny made it all the way to Gotham, bottle constantly glued to his hand. It’s better than Vlad’s creep-o-self looming over him all of the time. He bummed out on the streets, fitting into crime alley like a native. Danny learned to pickpocket. Not much, just enough for a bottle when his ran out. He stayed human. At first he tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to be perceived as a meta in a city where Batman notoriously disliked metas. Then, as he sunk deeper, he admitted to himself in a shameful curl of a whisper that it was really because alcohol affected his human side much easier.

Ghosts need an ungodly amount of alcohol to even get slightly buzzed. Danny’s human side? Only one full bottle the shittiest tequila he could find could even hope to be more than buzzed. It sucked.

He’s spent two years being an alcoholic that didn’t actually get that drunk. Technically, underage drinking was a crime. But then again, so was being a vigilante ghost. So, whatever. He does what he can to dull the grief. Mostly, he slept on covered and hidden nooks on top of Crime Alley’s roofs. Gotham city had taken pity on him and cleared her smog clouds when he was awake at night. Stargazing helped, at least. It gave him a little hope. It gave him a little wish to change and better and live like he wants. But then the night ends and when the day comes, Jazz isn’t there. Sam isn’t there. Tucker isn’t there. His mom and dad are not there.

Danny always went back to the bottle, in the end. Not that it did much.

Which was why, when he saw three looming figures over a tiny child, Danny’s saving people thing flared with a vengeance and his surprised ectoplasm burned what little buzz he had achieved by downing most of the bottle away, leaving him stone cold sober and pissed.

Danny sighed, dumping the rest of the nasty tasting liquid out. There’s no point drinking that little.

He approached the trio, who were beating up an actual child. Ancients, he hated Crime Alley sometimes.

“Give me your shit, you little punk!” Asshole 1 decided to say like a typical mugger, raising his leg to kick the curled up kid below. Danny doesn’t let him land the kick, smashing the bottle on the asshole’s head before any of them clocked his presence. He pivots, pushing a bit of that extra strength he normally keeps on a tight leash into his hands, and punched the other two in a quick fashion, knocking them out.

With that taken care of, Danny turned back to the kid who was still curled up. Danny sighed again, the trembles in small shoulders plucking on his heartstrings.

“You okay, kid?”

The kid uncurls, and Danny stared. Holy shit, is he looking into a mirror? Blue eyes, black hair, and tanned skin. Holy shit, he’s even got similar jaws to Danny.

“Huh.”

The kid flinched.

“Y-y’er the drunk,” the kid flinched again, eyes darting to the broken bottle still clenched in Danny’s hand. “I- I ain’t got money, honest. Please-”

Danny blinked down at the kid, brain connecting the dots after so long without actual interaction. He’s panicking and staring at the bottle in Danny’s hand like it’ll kill him. Danny raised the bottle and the kid closed his mouth with a click, terror worming its way into the kid’s eyes.

“I wasn’t going to mug you myself, kid.”

“But- y’er the- the Alley drunk.”

Danny blinked. Did he get a reputation without knowing again? Goddammit.

“I guess. Am I famous or somethin’?”

“Nobody- nobody fucks wit’ ya.”

“I also don’t hurt kids.”

“…”

The kid stared at him dubiously and with a sinking feeling, Danny realized that maybe the kid already had some terrible experiences with a heavy drunken hand. He promptly chucks the bottle further into the alley.

“I drink, yes. But I’m also not the kind of scum that would lay hands on a kid, let alone anyone that didn’t provoke it first.”

“Oh.” The kid uncurled more, looking at Danny warily, more at ease now that the bottle has left the chat.

“Yeah. I’m Danny. Stone cold sober, right now.”

“…”

Danny waited.

“Peters.”

“Okay. Peters, do you wanna take their shit?” Danny pointed a thumb at the knocked out would-be-muggers behind him.

“Y… yeah, sure. What’s my cut?”

“All of it.”

Peters stared.

Danny shrugged and started looting.

"Y'er so fuckin' weird."

----

See, the thing is, Danny hadn't anticipated saving Peters- "'s actually Jason"- would result in having a duckling following him around. The kid, Jason, glared at everyone who even looked at them wrong. But that's not the problem, because Danny could take anyone who took issue with Jason's looks, it's more like there's a child following him around now and Danny doesn't want to be the reason Jason turns into an alcoholic. It's- well, it made him cut down on the drinking. He even got jobs- legitimate jobs that sucks out his his poor ectoplasmic soul.

Why? Because Jason's apparently homeless. While that's something Danny's okay with for himself, he can't ever condone that for an actual child. Jason's walking around in threadbare clothes and thin soled shoes in the middle of Fall, for Ancient's sake.

Danny grumbles as he piled a bunch of clothes into the shopping bag as he checked out. Gotham's Walmart is a different kind of hell, but Danny feels right at home.

Sure, the work might suck out his soul and he might hate being sober, but Jason's face every time he comes home to an actual place to live, warm clothes, and food was worth everything.