#so this was kind of late but i was holding on so much to the toddler years

[millersfinest]

untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!)

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring…”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

[lamb-teaa]

` Little Miracles!

` pairing: Sylus x fem!reader

` tags: fluff! fluff! fluff! late-Christmas fluff! short ficlet. marriage life, your honor. soft husband Sylus.

` teaa's note: laaate but heck at least i finally got this outta my brainrot! mewrry late-Christmas everyone!

You were up to something.

Sylus could immediately sense the moment he arrived home from his usual dealings. The twinkle in your eyes, the beaming giddy smile gracing your lips and the way you were practically bouncing on your feet when you pulled him towards the living room couch.

He raised a brow when he noticed you were hiding something behind your back, an amused smile twitched at the corner of his lips. "Hmm? What is it, sweetie?"

You eagerly placed a small gift box in front of him, your heart racing in anticipation and excitement as you gave his hand a light squeeze. “Christmas present for you.”

Sylus eyes the small sized red box tied with a string of blue ribbon, smiling softly, “Didn’t we agree not to give presents for Christmas? You’re already the best present I have in my life.”

A lovely blush adorned on your cheeks as you playfully booped him on the nose. "Ah my darling, a charmer as always, buuut this gift is something I can't not give you."

"Is that so." Sylus chuckled in amusement, now curious about the content inside the box. But then he noticed something perched upon a tall stand by the wide living room TV.

“..Why is the camera there?”

“It's for a memento.”

“Sweetie, if this is some kind of a prank I’ll-“

“Just open it!”

Sylus shot you an deadpan stare, torn between demanding a direct answer from you or indulge in your little fun. But there was something in your gaze that made him pause, the mixture of hope and worry shone in your eyes before Sylus finally decided to give in as he drifted his attention to the small gift box on his lap.

Slowly and carefully, Sylus pulled off the ribbon. Shaking the box slightly when he realized how light it felt and making sure you didn't put some kind of, well, something inside to spook him or anything - the cautious sight of him earned a slight annoyed eye roll from you despite the smile still present on your lips.

Opening the lid, he found himself looking at a small piece of black and white photo. Confusion etched on his expression when he examined it closer but then froze when he realized what it was.

A sonogram.

With a small handwritten note scribbled beneath the image.

‘You’re going to be a daddy!’

Sylus's head snapped towards you in an instant, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your still flat stomach, his hand slightly trembling as he held the sonogram.

“Are you sure?” His voice came out shaky, his eyes locked into yours as his heart raced with pure elation and hope.

You felt your cheeks hurt from smiling too much. Your husband’s reaction was too adorable and you were glad you had the camera set up early to capture this joyful moment. You chuckled and nodded cheerfully, cradling his cheeks into your hands, “Yes Sy, I took three tests this morning before confirming it through checkup with a doctor."

Sylus abruptly stood up, eyes still wide as saucers, “Are you really really sure?”

“I’m positive!”

Your squealed echoed throughout the living room when he picked you up and began spinning you around in his arms, his face buried against your neck, his voice came out in an awed whispered. "You're pregnant.."

Sylus carefully set you back on your two feet, surprising you when he suddenly kneeled down in front of you, his calloused hands holding your waist gently as he nuzzled his face against your stomach, his voice loving and tender as he whispered. "You're pregnant.. With my baby.. Our baby.."

Your heart warmth from the gesture, your fingers threading through his hair as you gently lifted his face up to look at you. An excited and amused giggle escaping your lips as you decided to correct him on something. "Babies actually, darling."

Sylus blinked, puzzled. "Huh?"

You let out another gleeful giggle, before tugging him once more to sit on the couch. Holding the sonogram up close to him as you began pointing to the three small gestational sac on the grainy picture.

"Look closer. There's baby A, baby B-"

Sylus nearly toppled over at your words. "Wait, what?"

"-And baby C!" You finished with a beaming smile, enjoying the shocked and flabbergasted expression on Sylus's face.

It's not often you get to see the big bad leader of Onychinus get caught off guard like this so you were thrilled to witness it yourself by announcing your first pregnancy.

Mission success~!

Sylus was rendered speechless, his mouth slightly agape as he observed the sonogram much longer, now finally noticing the three little bundle and realization hit him in an instant. "You're carrying three...?"

"Triplets, my loveable darling. Yes." You grinned, ruffling his hair to snap him out of his stunned stupor. "Our three little miracles on Christmas day."

Three little miracles.

Three bundle of joy.

Three times the love.

Placing the sonogram aside, he summoned his Evol, the black red mist wrapping around your figure as it very gently levitated you slightly in the air, causing you to let out a small squeak of surprise, before placing you to sit on his lap. His strong arms immediately circled around your waist, his face resting on top of your chest as he let out a soft happy chuckle.

"Thank you." His deep voice whispered in earnest, his hold around you tightened at the thought of you carrying his children, his eyes fluttering close to suppress the tears threatened to spill out. “Thank you for this wonderful gift."

Sylus embraced you tightly, lifting his face to gaze into yours, his eyes full of affection and warmth before capturing your lips in a sweet tender kiss that had you melting in his arms. "I love you, sweetie.”

You smiled against his lips, your arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him closer, deepening the kiss as both your hearts raced in sync from the overwhelming emotions. “Love you more, Sy.”

Lost in their love and warmth, the camera continued rolling, capturing the heartfelt moments between the two soon-to-be parents on the wonderful winter night.

[tsukuhoe]

13. who's the cute boy with the white sweatshirt

the coffee shop buzzed with its usual morning rush, the scent of espresso mingling in the air. you stepped inside the coffee shop, your sundress swayed lightly with the movement. a soft white rosalia midi sundress dotted with a yellow floral print seemed to carry a piece of summer into the shop. you glanced at your watch— enough time before the table read started. 

you walked up to the register, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you studied the menu. 

“good morning!” the barista greeted you. “what can i get for you?” 

“hmm,” you murmured, your voice soft but thoughtful. “a vanilla latte with two shots of espresso and a rose cold foam, please.” 

“right. your order will be soon! love your dress by the way, has anyone told you that you look a lot like y/n l/n?” 

“yes...! i get that a lot! thank you.” 

as you waited, your eyes wandered, taking in the shop's interior. your gaze brushed over a familiar-looking raven-haired man with multiple facial piercings and gauges. his hair was tied ​​half up and for a brief moment, your eyes met. you smiled, the kind of small, polite smile you give a stranger, but it felt like a spark anyway. 

when your drink was ready, you picked it up, fingers curling delicately around the cup. as you turned toward the door, your shoulder collided with someone. the next thing you knew, your latte was splashed across the floor and the person’s white sweatshirt. 

“fuck, i’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, panicking at the mess you made. looking up to see the guy you spilt your latte on. his purple eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, you forgot about the sticky, rapidly cooling liquid soaking into his clothes. 

“no, it’s okay,” he said quickly, though the words came out more irritated than he intended. “i wasn’t paying attention.” 

“neither was i,” you admitted, setting your cup down on a nearby table. “here, let me help.” you grabbed a stack of napkins from the counter and handed him a few, keeping the rest to blot the floor. 

he stood and ran a hand through his messy dark hair as you got on your knees, trying to wipe the hem on his sweatshirt, hoping it wouldn’t stain the white. his face flushing, then turning it away from your downward view. your sundress’s cleavage gave an invasive view from the angle and the position you were in didn’t help his mind to not lead to sexual thoughts. 

“i feel terrible. how much was this sweater? i’ll pay for it.” you asked, still focused on the stain. 

“you know, normally, people would ask for an autograph instead of offering money.” he chuckled, grabbing your arm and picking you up to look at him. 

“huh? i’m sorry, i don’t quite understand...." he smirked. then it clicked. you realized who you were looking at. "wait, are you suguru geto?” 

“the one and only,” he nodded with a sweet smile on his face. “and you’re y/n l/n, right? i’ve seen you a few times on the news and radio.” 

you eagerly nodded back. this was the suguru geto. the one that played a huge part in the indie music industry. the one that went on an indefinite hiatus five years ago. 

“can i buy you another drink?” he asked, snapping you out of your shocked state. you hesitated, glancing at your watch. you were going to be late if you waited any longer. fuck. “i don’t really have time—”

“or,” he interrupted, holding up a hand, “you could take this.” the raven-haired slid a sleek, black stainless steel tumbler across the counter towards you.

you frowned. “what’s this?”

“my coffee. black, no sugar,” he said, a sheepish grin tugging at his pierced lips. “i’m a little obsessed with punctuality, so i always leave early. you, on the other hand, seem like you’re cutting it close.”

you stared at him, a mix of gratitude and disbelief swirling in her chest. “you’re just… giving me your coffee?”

“think of it as an apology.”

you accepted the tumbler reluctantly. “okay, but only if you let me pay you back for that sweater.”

“deal,” he said, slipping a card out of his wallet and scribbling something on the back with a pen from his pocket. “here’s my number. text me when you’ve got time, and we’ll call it even.”

album bonus tracks: — SUGURU !!! — i have this huge hc of suguru having facial piercings n tats — he has an eyebrow piercing, snake bites, labret piercing, industrial, helix (and tits!) pierced! — and tats are placed on his upper left arm to neck <33 (idk if u can tell but i love body decor) — also on the topic of piercings n tats, choso has SO MANY (which we'll talk about some other time) — excited to update more (if u couldn't tell by my little spree lately) ⋮ MASTERLIST  ֹ⋮  PREVIOUS  ⋮  ֹNEXT  ⋮

. ꒷ TAG LIST .ᐟ.ᐟ [CLOSED 50/50] @celloccino @shokosbunny @nymphsdomain @alpha-mommy69 @soulairess @poopooindamouf @reyna-isabellaa @justamina-blog @koreluvsspring @mayhemfellasleep @clamousera @roxy776699 @l-ilysm @ayla-1605 @kaemaybae @starmapz @gigiiiiislife @puppyminnnie @desideityy @yuhig-blog @kaiiibxby @ami20019 @kentochronicles @missthatgirl @lauuriiiz @emi311 @lunavelha @coffeeisbehindyou @freakadelick @theclassbookworm @ladytamayolover @tojirin @fuckisthatahotghost @odxrilove @perqbeth @rxi-n-lyche3 @sugoroo @mentallyunpresent @naviaberries @wil10wthetree @thesharkcollector @harryzcherry @ghost-buddies @tearshedder @mourn1ng-dov3 @hellokittyish @good-mourning0 @shoma-nom @elegancefr @norikuna

[bloggerspam]

Two updates in one day? It's a Christmas Miracle!

Here's the Epilogue :) Gentle reminder that this fic is also on AO3!

===

The problem with knowing things, Jason thinks, is now he's gotta do something about it.

"Knowledge is a burden…" Dickie sighs. "How are you holding up, Jaybird?"

Jason groans, slumping further into the giant bean bag chair he's in.

It's summertime, and Jason is on break from school. After the Christmas Carol Debacle in April, Dickie decided that Jason's stay at Titan's Tower should not only be moved up from the original plan of Christmas Break, but also extended to the entirety of Summer Vacation.

He was not happy to learn about parallel timeline Bruce's actions, and like a spurned girlfriend waking up from a dream of her boyfriend cheating on her, he's taking it out on this Bruce.

"Jaybird privileges have been revoked." Dickie had growled at Bruce, once Jason was done explaining what had happened. It made Jason feel all tingly and warm inside as he packed his duffle bag for his stay at the Tower. 

Jason and the Titans are lounging in the spacious living room area, Beast Boy and Cyborg playing some kind of racing game whilst Raven reads some suspicious-looking tome. 

Starfire is milling about in the kitchen, attempting…something. She might even be worse at cooking than Dickie is, and he’s banned from the Kitchen. 

Alfie has been teaching Jason how to make simple breakfasts, and Dickie has been reaping the benefits. 

His brother rolls over on top of Jason, practically suffocating him in his affection as he waits for Jason to answer. 

Jason’s still not used to this kind of physical affection, but thinking on it, Dickie’s never really stayed at the Manor. He knew his older brother wasn’t getting along with Bruce nowadays, but he never really thought to consider the natural result of it causing a rift between the two brothers. 

It should have been obvious: Dickie didn’t want to see Bruce, and Jason lives with him. 

…Maybe Danny was right, he really wasn’t looking at all. 

“I just don’t know what to do.” Jason finally answers, adjusting so his arm isn’t trapped under the bulk of his brother. 

“Do you have to do anything?” Beast Boy says, before crying out at his car flipping over on the screen.

“Batman did say messing with the timeline too much would be, what did he call it?” Cyborg does a little fist pump when he ends up first in the race. “Paradoxical?”

“It’s too late for that,” Raven cuts in, shutting her tome with a loud thump. “Jason being here already dictates heavy changes. That’s not what he’s asking anyway.”

“It is about your siblings, yes?” Starfire hums, coming to float and sit down on the adjacent sofa. “Will you not go find them?”

“He’s worried about their skill sets,” Dickie explains, “And their intentions.”

“And the moral dilemma of it all.” Jason whines.

“I don’t get it.” Beast Boy says, whooping when he wins the second race. “What’s so bad about picking them up now?”

“You mean besides some stranger coming up to you and declaring you’re siblings in the future?” Raven rolls her eyes, disappearing the tome and flicking a small marble-like ball of energy at BB’s head.

“Ow!” Beast Boy flinches, converting himself into a dog to tumble his way into Jason and Dickie’s little cuddle pile. 

It’s a little embarrassing, especially when Beast Boy turns into a cat to curl around his neck and head like some kind of mother cat, and the other Titans give them a soft smile.  But Jason can’t really say he hates it.

“If he gets little Damian now, he saves him from life at the League.” Dickie explains, “But that would deprive him of his relationship with his mother, and possibly even put his life in more danger if he lacks the assassin background he grew up in.”

“Cassandra would be better off being saved now,” Jason mutters, “But I don’t know if she has a hand in Damian’s training or not, and if we take her but not him…”

“It could affect his training or something,” Cyborg completes the thought, “Which would bring you back to square one, where you might as well bring him in anyway.”

“Which just starts the cycle all over again…” Raven observes.

“And hence,” Dickie gestures with a hand towards Raven, “Knowledge is a burden.”

All of them groan.

“Fuck it.” Jason finally says, grabbing Cat-BB and squeezing him tight like a stuffed animal, pushing his face into his cat belly. Cat-BB graciously lets Jason snuggle him half to death. His brother’s friends are equally cuddly, no surprise.

“Language.” Dickie murmurs from where his face is smooshed against the beanbag chair.

“Fuck it,” Jason says again into Cat-BB’s belly. “Let’s draw up a co-parenting agreement between B and Talia. Kidnap Cassandra because fuck that guy pretending to be her dad, for real.”

Cat-BB purrs up a storm, making biscuits in Jason’s hair and laughing little cat laughs. Starfire and Cyborg cheer as Raven huffs a laugh. Dickie squeezes him a little tighter.

“What about the others?” Raven asks, “Stephanie Brown and Duke Thomas?” 

“We looked into Stephanie,” Dickie waves a hand, “Turns out her dad’s Cluemaster. Bruce is looking into her.” 

“Duke will go through a nondescript war, at a nondescript time.” Jason follows up, shrugging. “There isn’t much we can do about that until it actually happens. Bruce said we can just keep an eye on him for now.”

“And what of the Tiny Tim?” Starfire tilts her head, “He is your neighbor, is he not? Is he still alone?”

Jason grins.

===

Jason whoops as he grapples through the buildings, running on rooftops and dodging reaching hands.

Blackbat melts out of the shadows, stopping him dead in his tracks when she boops him on the nose. 

“Tag.” Cass says, and even through the mask, Jason can tell she’s smiling, “You’re it, Lightning Bug.”

“Stop calling me that!” Jason groans, but Blackbat has already joined the shadows once more. “You’re only 3 months older!” 

He huffs. 

He looks down at himself, at the black cargo pants and bright white accents, white steel-toe boots to match. His lower face mask, doubling as a gas mask, almost gleams in the moonlight as it reflects off the white sheen of it. 

He reaches up to make sure the black hood is still attached properly, adjusting his black leather jacket when it rides up with the action. The white skin-tight armored kevlar underneath peeks through, the black bat symbol on his chest almost absorbing the light.

He has to admit, his white and black outfit does kind of make him look like a streak of lightning when he’s dashing about the roofs, but if anyone’s a lightning bug it’d be Duke.

For obvious reasons. 

He takes another running dive, swinging left when he sees some movement. Speak of the Devil….

Signal is up ahead, jostling around with Spoiler. 

Jason locks on, grin feral. 

“SHIT!” Cass curses when she sees him, “SCATTER!”

To Jason’s surprise, Nightwing nose dives away veering right when Spoiler and Duke separate on the left. Damn, didn’t see him there—Jason’s losing his touch.

Duke hoots and hollers with laughter, especially when Jason decides to chase after Steph.

“Hey! Why me!!!!” Steph whines, twisting and winding and parkouring over vents.

But they’re around Crime Alley now, his turf. Jason ducks under, dipping through an open window and waving hello to Mr. Gonzalez as he jumps out the other side, hooking himself up through the fire escape to cut Steph’s path off.

She didn’t have a chance.

“Ah! Fuck!” Steph screams as Jason trips her. She does a neat little cartwheel, landing on her feet with a huff. “Where did you even come from???”

“You’re in my Alley, Spoiler.” Jason taunts, sticking his tongue out and grappling quickly away. 

Some cheers erupt from the windows, Mr. Gonzalez and Miss Ruby, even little Billy from the bakery sticking their heads out their windows to cheer them on.

“I bet my money on you winnin’ this time, Spirit!” Nikki, one of the working girls, waves with a grin as he passes by. 

“Ain’t no winners in tag, Miss!” Jason calls out, hoping his replying grin is audible in his voice. “Only one loser!”

Jason swings this way and that, hearing echoes of his siblings’ laughter as he takes a small break at his favorite gargoyle.

He sits down, careful to hide within the arms and wings of the grotesque, and breathes. He should have known wearing his lower-face gas mask would get sweaty. At least his white domino is made to be breathable.

He doesn’t know how Steph and Cass survive the breakouts. He’s 19 and he’s still breaking out with acne every now and then. Do girls just have magic powers?

He feels a presence loom above him, and when he tilts his head up to look, Batman smiles down at him. It looks funny, upside down, but Jason likes it anyway. 

He can see Robin giving him a little nod further behind before he grapples away to no doubt join the festivities. 

On comms, he can hear Cardinal yelping in indignation at being tagged by Spoiler. Jason chuckles, wondering if Timmy’s going to blow a gasket or not. Oracle is chiding them for language, but she’s also giving hints about Dickie’s whereabouts, so clearly she doesn’t actually care. 

“You’re not going to join?” Bruce asks, sitting down beside him.

“I’m the one that tagged Steph.” Jason laughs, “I’m just taking a break, old man.”

“Hn.” Bruce grunts, even though surely he already knew all this. 

“If you wanted to chat, all you had to do was say so.” Jason takes off his lower mask, grinning. “Or maybe you wanna join in too? This isn’t a gala y’know, you don’t need an invite.

Bruce chuckles, shaking his head and looking out over Gotham. They sit there in amicable silence, enjoying the stars and sky. 

“I’m proud of you.” Bruce breaks the silence, not looking over at Jason but reaching a hand over to pat him on the head. “I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”

Jason smiles, accepting the gruff pat and looking up at his dad as he fastens his mask back on. “Hey, I’m proud of me too.”

Jason jumps up, Bruce no doubt raising an eyebrow in confusion before—

“Tag, you’re it!” Dickie grins, cackling all the way as he hooks an arm around Jason and grapples away. 

“Please do start heading home, children.” Alfie’s voice cuts through the comms, “Dinner will be served in 20.”

“Got it, Agent A!” Jason chirps, cheeky, “Game ends when the last person hits the manor!”

Their laughs echo through Gotham as Batman himself starts to barrel towards them,  their siblings swing in and out and away and around, heading back.

Heading home.

===

Jason looks up at the sign, head tilted up. It’s a bar, plain looking and unassuming at a first glance. It looks a little run down, but close inspection of the entrance gives Jason the impression that it was on purpose. 

Overall, a very interesting place to be sent to.

“This the place?” Roy mutters from beside him. 

“Not sure.” Jason hums, pulling out the green post-it note in his pocket and reading it over again. “It’s the right address, at least.”

“Only one way to find out.” Artemis grins from his other side. “Good thing we’re all legal.”

They make their way into the building, a little hole-in-the-wall bar. It’s cleaner, nicer than Jason expected it to be. There are a couple of patrons milling about, low murmurs sprinkled with hearty laughter. 

He and his friends each take a stool at the bar when a bartender comes out from the back.

He’s built like a truck, with long black hair tied back into a messy braid hanging over his shoulder. When he spots them, Jason notices that his brown eyes look almost red in the dim light. 

The bartender squints at him for a moment, looking to his left and right, contemplating. A moment later the edge of his lip ticks up in an almost smile, and despite the confusion in his face he looks knowing. He looks like he recognizes Jason.

Jason’s too distracted, wondering why he looks so familiar to really get up in arms about it.

“Well,” The bartender says as he comes to a stop before him, “Guess you found your Outlaws in the end.”

“We are not outlaws…” Artemis defends them, confused and a touch offended, “We haven’t done anything.”

“Right, right,” The man flaps a hand, “You’d be something else this time around.” 

“You’re…” Jason feels like he’s on the edge of remembering something, like a lost memory from childhood.

“What can I do you for?” Despite asking, the bartender starts to make three drinks—a whiskey on the rocks, a mug of honey mead, and a glass of ginger ale. 

“How—” Roy dazedly takes the ginger ale, looking towards Artemis with her honey mead. “I didn’t even know they had honey mead at bars?”

“They don’t.” Artemis stares at her mug, “Not…not usually.”

“Who are you?” Jason furrows his brow, clutching his whiskey in one hand and crumpling the note in his pocket in the other.

The bartender smirks, leaning his left shoulder just a little forward, tapping a nametag with his right index finger with an almost crystalline tinktink!

“Long time no see, kid.” Dan smirks, leaning forward on his elbows. “It’s like it was yesterday—you grew up nice. Come to the UK for the holidays?”

“You could say that.” Jason, overcome with an onslaught of forgotten memories, starts to slowly beam. “Are the other Dannies in town for Christmas?”

“Hanukkah.” Dan corrects, tilting his head towards a menorah banner hanging off the cash register, “Got a Jewish friend in town, plus we hate Christmas.”

“How can someone hate Christmas?” Roy cuts in, “And who even are you?”

“An old friend.” Jason smiles, “Though I like his siblings more.”

“Everyone does.” Dan rolls his eyes, but Jason can see a ghost of a smile. 

“Could I see them?” Jason wants to ask so many things, tell them so many things, about what’s different now, about his siblings, just talk. 

“Sure,” Dan shrugs, “I’m guessing CW sent you? Green post-it?”

“Yeah,” Jason pulls out the crumpled note and puts it on the bar.

“They’ve always been nosy.” Dan grumbles. “My shift’s over in an hour. Kids’ll be happy to see you.”

Dan gets called over by one of the other patrons, and Jason kills time by answering his friends’ abundant questions, catching them up. 

Kori and Bizarro join them just as they’re bundling up to leave, Dan bidding his coworkers goodbye. 

“You really hate Christmas?” Jason needles as his friends head towards the direction Dan gave them ahead of time, “Even though…”

“Yeah, even though. Danny’s idea. The one with the Y.” Dan smirks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Bah Humbug, and all that.”

Jason laughs.

===

Jason sits back at the dinner table, satisfied and joyful. 

It’s a raucous affair, Christmas dinner with the Waynes.

Especially so with guests.

Cass and Sam are talking about witchcraft, and how ethical the practices might be.

Duke is chatting amicably with Tucker about the latest game-turned-film feature playing in this universe, Steph putting in her two cents about it with pointed gestures about how little she’s impressed by it.

Babs and Jazz are discussing Jazz’s job as a therapist, Babs wondering if she can pick Jazz’s brain for improvements for Arkham. 

Bruce and Dan eat in friendly silence, though Jason suspects that maybe they’re silently communicating at a grunting frequency only brooding men can hear, like cats.

Dani, now called Ellie, is goading Damian into a spar with very little success. 

Danny and Dickie are trying to subtly direct them into pranks, with very high success.

Alfie is coming in and out, tending to the food and his charges with a smooth smile and happy demeanor. 

All in all, it was worth convincing the Phantoms to celebrate Christmas with the Waynes, just this once. 

Tim is telling him about college options, Jason about to put in his own tips about class scheduling when he realizes a great opportunity. 

“Hey Tim, can you do me a favor?” Jason lowers his voice conspiratorially. 

 “That depends on the favor.” Tim squints up at him, skeptical and no doubt confused at the sudden change in subject. “And what I get out of it.”

“It’s nothing big.” Jason reassures him, “It would just be funny for the Dannies.”

Tim tilts his head, listening to Jason whispering his plan in his ear before acquiescing with a shrug. “Sure, I guess.”

Jason beams, clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention. 

“Thank you for coming,” Jason starts, addressing the Phantoms who raise a glass in agreement, “And well, for everything else. I don’t have some grand speech, but I just wanted to end this night right, you know?”

Dan raises an eyebrow almost exactly in time with Bruce, causing Danny and Ellie to dissolve into laughter.

“And so,” Jason grins, gesturing grandly to the boy beside him. “As Tiny Tim observed…”

Tim rolls his eyes, but smiles indulgently. “God bless us, every one!”

A Christmas Carol AU

Inspired by a prompt found in the @haunting-heroes-creative-games :) (i.e. back on my shit again)

When a 15 year old Jason, pissed at Bruce for taking Robin away from him, finds his birth certificate he realizes Catherine Todd is not his real mother.

Just as he resolves to go out and search for his birth mother, Jason finds himself accosted by three ghosts in his room, talking about A Christmas Carol of all things.

===

"So, what? We're gonna Christmas Carol him?"

Dan scoffs, crossing his bulky arms with an unimpressed look. "We hated that movie."

"I didn't." Dani chirps, disturbingly cheery, "I didn't see it!"

"We hate Christmas," Danny corrects, "But the movie was alright, and the logic is sound."

"I don't hate Christmas," Dani once again interjects cheerily, "I've never participated!"

"Sound my ass," Dan growls over her, throwing his hands up. "We don't even know this guy!"

"Minor detail." Danny insists, "Tuck can look him up."

"He's a fucking Bat, Danny." Dan scrunches up his face, pinching the bridge of his nose just like Vlad does when he's disgruntled with any of Dad's shenanigans.

"He's a Robin, actually." Dani pipes in, "And he's just a kid. How hard is it gonna be to pretend to be this kid's Ghosts?"

"You're a kid," Dan reminds her, crossing his arms, "And you didn't believe me when I told you sticking a fork in the outlet would shock you."

"I believed you," Dani sniffs haughtily, crossing her arms and pointing her nose up with a snooty voice, "The warning simply did not deter me from doing it anyway."

"We don't have to convince him we're his Ghosts, or even that we knew him before," Danny reasons, needling, "We just have to convince him that we're…"

He hums, pointing at Dani. "Past."

He points at himself, "Present."

He points at Dan, "Future."

Dani does a little cheer, arms up and twirling into the air before landing with her legs over Dan's shoulders, hands and head settling atop Dan's fiery, but harmless, hair. It flickers, before going limp into long white strands that Dani messes up by gently scrunching up the strands and running her fingers through them.

Dan lets her, huffing and looking weirdly like a downtrodden, wet cat. "Why am I future?"

"Because." Danny doesn't continue, because he knows it makes Dan annoyed. True to form, his scowl gets worse, like sucking on a lemon. They all know why anyway.

Dani grins, triumphant and knowing, letting her voice go real deep, "The future," she intones into Dan's hair, "is here."

"The future is now," Danny corrects her, but doesn't lose his smile, floating up to tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

"The future is already here," Dan mumbles his correction, or is it a follow-up? "It's just not evenly distributed."

"How about you distribute some of those muscles, Gibson," Danny sighs, shaking his head "Waiting for puberty is such a drag, and we both know you didn't get the mass from Vlad's side of the family."

Dan makes a moue of disgust, but it serves him right. The consequences of his own actions, and whatnot. He looks up at Dani, who simply shrugs. "I think you'll do great." She leans down to give him two pats on the arm.

"So how's acting out A Christmas Carol gonna help us stop this Jason guy from blowing up?" Dani fiddles with Dan's hair, tongue poking out as she attempts a braid, "Will he even see us? Ghosts in this dimension taste funny."

"He'll be able to see us, it's magically rich enough for some ghosts to maintain a semblance of themselves," Danny explains for the third time. Dani and Dan hum at different pitches, and even though Danny is the common denominator he kind of hates that Vlad has more of a lasting impression on them. "The ectoplasm here is scarce and mostly corrupted, though, so it's rare."

"So there's lotsa bad ghosts here?" Dani eyes the messy braid she's made, proud, even as Dan's silky hair immediately causes it to fall apart, "Or 'mentally unsound' or whatever Frostbite called it."

"No," Dan grumbles, annoyed and indulging all at once, "Corruption begets ecto-rot, but the scarcity means they're not strong enough to actually retain their sense of self enough to rot."

"Shades," Danny explains when Dani looks even more confused, "There's lots of shades."

"Is this one of the Olympian dimensions?" Dani groans, flopping over Dan's shoulder as he sits down on the sofa, "I love Pandora and all, but if I see Zeus again I'm gonna lose it."

"It's one of the hero dimensions," Danny hums, taking over braiding Dan's hair the way Jazz made him when they were little, "There's a couple of Amazons walking about, but on the whole no Olympians."

"I don't know why he didn't just dump me in a Norse dimension." Dan leans back and closes his eyes to their ministrations. "Especially with my current occupation."

The three of them are sitting in Dan's apartment, a large loft studio located somewhere in the UK of the aforementioned hero-dimension. Alber-something, Danny can't remember. Doesn't need to, it being a different dimension from his anyway.

Dan doesn't have a lot of things: a sofa and TV, a bed in the corner, a decent but small kitchen. They're still trying to figure out decorations, but Dan on the whole is a minimalist so it's been slow going.

He's working as a bartender these nights, whiling away his odd existence now that his form has stabilized.

And wasn't that a trip? Learning that hey, adult lightning halfas shouldn't really be mixed with teenage ice halfas, actually!

Apparently, ectoplasm can become corrupted if you try to combine incompatible sources.

Apparently, side effects include (but are not limited to) unmitigated violence and a devastating need for vengeance.

Sound familiar?

"This dimension has a lot of time continuity errors," Danny reminds him, "Dropping you here gave the least amount of pushback."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan flaps a lazy hand, "Praise be the speedforce and flashpoints and whatnot."

"Plus," Dani adds softly, absent-minded as she watches Danny finish up the braid, "Lotsa heroes to help out if you relapse."

Dan heaves a slow, controlled sigh. Danny and Dani both pretend they don't notice.

"Is it bad?" Dan doesn't open his eyes, his voice is so low Danny can only hear him by virtue of his ghost powers, "Like me levels bad?"

"No." Danny shakes his head, leaning into his older self, his older brother of sorts, "He decapitated eight crime lords, killed a couple of assassins, maybe an innocent or two depending on your definition of things."

"Past tense?" Dan scrunches his nose. They all hate how confusing Time Shenanigans are.

"He's living as Red Hood, right this very moment."

"Red Hood?" Dani questions, "That his hero name?"

"Crime lord alias." Danny corrects her, "But he's more of a vigilante these days. Has a bat on his chest and everything."

"But it's bad enough to warrant a trip to the past." Dan points out, "Bad enough for us to try and persuade him. Does he relapse?"

"Not…exactly." Danny scrunches his face, not wanting to explain Clockwork's ambiguity.

Dani floats to spread over Danny and Dan's laps, sprawling out and purring like a cat. Self-soothing, though it's more for their benefit than hers.

"Like Dani said, there’re lots of heroes here, and he doesn't have powers." Danny continues, petting at Dani's soft hair, "The world doesn't end. He doesn't have the means to, even with the ecto-rot."

Danny pauses, and chooses his words deliberately and carefully. "And deep down, Jason Todd is a hero through and through. Relapse would be…difficult. His Obsession is similar to yours."

Dan lets that sit for a moment, but nods, Danny moving a little with the motion. The tension slowly bleeds out as they wait like that, enjoying each other's company.

"If the world doesn't end," Dani whispers, "Why is Clockwork sending all of us?"

Danny thinks on that, on his meeting with Clockwork. The Ancient's voice when he explained what would happen.

He thinks about Jason Todd, about Bruce Wayne, and Catherine, and Sheila. He thinks about Batman, and Robin.

He thinks about Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, about Damian Al Ghul, about Cassandra Cain, and all of Jason's Outlaws.

He thinks about a tattered uniform that stays up in a glass case for a long, long time.

Most of all, he thinks about Dan.

He thinks about regrets and one bad day away.

And then he stops thinking about it, because sometimes the past is the past, and other times, it's the future that never happens that haunts you instead.

"You know, Dani." He settles on, "I'm not sure. He probably has his reasons."

Dan leans heavier onto him, and they lean together like that, with Dani in their laps.

Ghosts of decisions made, unmade, and never to be.

Follow the story on AO3 here!

[penny-anna]

travelling home after christmas today

checking my tickets this morning to make sure everything is in order. realise i somehow booked a 2-stage journey with a change at Doncaster rather than a direct ticket.

aw fuck. :(

report this to my sister who suggests trains might not be running as usual. assure her that it's definitely my fault

arrive at station. my train is at 13:03. there is also a direct Edinburgh train at 13:00. longingly watch the direct train depart. :(

my train is somehow running 5 minutes late in spite of starting at King's Cross?? wym you're running late. you haven't been anywhere.

anyway this is a problem bcos i only have 11 minutes to change at Doncaster.

train also doesn't start boarding until maybe 2 minutes before scheduled departure. there are around 200 people trying to board. we are not leaving at 13:08.

finally leave at around quarter past. yeah i am not making this connection. i didn't have a seat reserved so no great loss.

notice that the app now says my connecting train is delayed due to 'overcrowding'. ehh i don't think i want to get that train anyway.

the connecting train isn't delayed enough for my to catch it. phew, i think, bullet dodged!!

the next train to Edinburgh arrives. it was also delayed leaving Kings Cross for the same unclear reasons as my original train. it's booked solid but the screen says there are seats available in coach C so off i go.

attempt to board the train. the vestibule is so full of people that im honestly not sure i can fit.

manage to fit. oh fuck. oh this is not a good train to be on.

various people are scouting out coach C in seach of seats and come back without. decide to make a trip myself as they were a couple and i'm a lone traveller so might have more success.

i have my big rucksack on + an extra bag so im just barging my way through there. there's people standing in the aisle. way unpassable.

return to the vestibule.

someone has left a very large buggy in the vestibule, unfolded, seemingly abandoned, unbelievably in the way.

someone suggests that we could fold the buggy. everyone agrees this is a good idea but no-one is the buggy's owner.

i ask if anyone knows who the buggy belongs to and someone points to a woman halfway down the carriage, beyond a bunch more standing people.

people are needing to get through to the bathroom. attempt to put myself on the other side of the buggy to clear a path. almost get stuck bcos w all my bags i am just so so large.

manage to get to the other side of the buggy and take off my backpack so i'm not taking up so much space. add my backpack to the luggage piled in front of the luggage rack.

someone returns from the adjoining vestibule with news of more space for luggage, suggests we move the buggy

collectively manage to get the buggy's owner over. she tells us she is travelling alone with 5 children. now feel kind of bad about being annoyed by the buggy.

buggy is too wide to go to the next vestibule without being folded. she say she can't fold it because it's got bags in it and there's nowhere to put the bags.

it's pointed out that she can put the bags in the other luggage rack where there is (apparently) more space. the buggy is removed and we all have space to actually move around.

my rucksack is at constant risk of fallling off the luggage pile and it's on the other side of the carriage door so not much i can do. another passenger is kindly keeping it in place for me.

also a problem w standing on long haul trains is that they are just not designed for it so there's nowhere to hold on and i almost fall into people several times.

okay we are coming up on York. maybe, i think optimistically, a bunch of people will get off at York (it's a big station) and things will improve

ohh god things do not improve

more people pile into the vestibule including a couple with a very large suitcase and a baby

suitcase has nowhere to go except the middle of the corridor. couple debate whether they should just get off the train and find alternative transport. woman says (reasonably) that she doesn't want to stand holding the baby for 3 hours to Edinburgh.

before they can come to a conclusion the train leaves

predictably the vestibule is now home to a crying baby

a man comes out of the coach w a bag from the buffet service. asks politely if he can get through so he can go back to his seat.

oh we are SO sorry but you are going to be here a while :(

manage to get my rucksack properly onto the luggage rack :)

after a while the man w the buffet car bag says that at the next station he's going to get off the train and back on at the next entrance in hope of getting back to his seat

we wish him godspeed. he gets off the train. never see him again. i hope he made it.

we are now not far from Durham. very large man w a very large bag comes through, smacks everyone with his bag, and then almost dislodges my backpack taking his suitcase out from underneath it

announces confidently which side the train doors will open on.

ok we have a shot here. on my previous recce i noticed a whole group of seats marked reserved to Durham. tell myself that i must act swiftly and decisively when we get to Durham.

by this point im having significant foot pains from too much train standing.

we arrive at Durham. the big group mentioned leaves and then a reshuffle commences

family of 5 kids mentioned previously (remember them??) are moving to take over the vacated table. observing events it looks like there's going to be 1 free seat left.

there's 2 people closer to the seat and i can't just barge past them BUT they are together. ask if one of them wants the seat.

they do not want the seat!!

move swiftly & decisively to take the seat.

it is covered and i mean covered in popcorn but i will take what i can get at this stage.

from beneath the seats me and some other helpul passengers retrieve a dropped pair of gloves, a hat and a toy Sonic the Hedgehog which we return to their owners.

finally sit.

take off coat put in eye drops begin drinking delicious 7up i've been carrying since kings cross etc.

at the next stop the person in the other seat leaves and am joined by another of the group from the vestibule. we sit and quietly read our books :3

[solxamber]

HELLO!! Hi!! My goodness I really hope I'm not too late!! I really love your works and had been way too busy these days to scroll on here like usual. Seeing that you have a holiday event had caught my eye and the whole thing makes it so cute!! I was hoping maybe you could do Heartslabyul, 7, Fluff or pomefiore, 4, comedy!! Happy Holidays and thank you so much for working hard with these events!! ❄️🤍

thank you so much! Happy holidays <3

(I'll take any opportunity to write for my wife :) I'm also running out of title ideas someone send help)

Perfectly Reasonable Reaction || Vil Schoenheit

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "I'm NOT jealous" ; Genre: Comedy

It was just another day of being the prefect/unofficial errand-runner/problem-fixer/therapist at NRC.

This time, you were helping a nervous first-year untangle a charm spell gone wrong. With zero magic to your name, this mostly involved you holding the instructions and squinting at the text like it was written in ancient runes (which, frankly, it might as well have been).

“Okay,” you said, pointing at the paper. “Try… flicking your wrist, but like… less aggressively. Right now, it looks like you’re swatting a fly that insulted your mother.”

The freshman nodded frantically, his hands trembling as he adjusted his stance. You smiled encouragingly, even as you silently prayed he wouldn’t accidentally explode the lounge.

Across the room, Vil was perched on one of the elegant sofas, sipping tea with the precision of a king. And by “sipping tea,” you mean glaring daggers at the poor first-year while trying to look aloof.

“Roi du Poison,” Rook whispered dramatically from beside him, his eyes sparkling. “Your expression is most tempestuous today. Could it be the fires of jealousy I see in your eyes?”

Vil didn’t even dignify that with a response. He simply crossed his legs, radiating judgment.

“I’m not jealous,” Vil said eventually, setting down his tea with the kind of grace that would make royalty weep. “I’m merely concerned for my significant other’s safety. The freshman looks like he might combust at any second.”

“Oh, naturally,” Rook replied, clearly trying not to laugh.

You, oblivious to the brewing storm behind you, clapped as the first-year finally managed the spell without disaster. “See? You got it! You’re a natural.”

The freshman looked like he might cry with gratitude before scampering off, leaving you to clean up the scattered papers.

Which is when Vil swooped in like a bird of prey spotting its target.

“Darling,” he said smoothly, already taking the papers from your hands.

You blinked up at him. “Vil? What’re you—”

“You’ve been standing far too long. Sit.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sit,” he repeated, and before you could argue, he placed both hands on your shoulders and gently pushed you into the nearest chair.

“Uh… okay?”

Then, without warning, he sat on your lap.

Your brain stalled. “Vil. What.”

“I see this as a necessary course of action,” he said loftily, adjusting his position until he was comfortably settled.

“...For what?”

“For ensuring that everyone here understands you’re unavailable.” His arms looped around your neck, his tone casual, but his eyes daring anyone to approach.

“I was helping a freshman,” you said, biting back a laugh.

“Yes, well, he seemed very comfortable with your assistance,” Vil replied, sniffing imperiously.

“He looked like he wanted to die,” you pointed out.

“I’m not jealous,” Vil declared immediately, his pout saying otherwise.

“Oh, obviously,” you deadpanned. “You’re just… asserting dominance by turning my lap into a throne.”

“Exactly,” he said, completely missing your sarcasm.

You couldn’t help it anymore—you burst out laughing, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Vil, you’re ridiculous. I love you, but this? This is a lot.”

His cheeks pinked, but he didn’t move. “If it ensures people don’t get too close, then it’s worth it.”

You grinned, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Well, Mr. Not Jealous, you’re cute when you’re clingy.”

His face went a shade darker, but he still didn’t budge. Instead, he sighed dramatically, resting his head on your shoulder. “Be that as it may, you should be more cautious. You’re magicless, and people will take advantage of that.”

“Yeah, because freshmen with shaky hands are definitely my greatest threat,” you teased.

“Watch it,” he warned, but his voice was fond.

Behind him, Rook was positively vibrating with delight, a camera in his hand. “Ah, what a beautiful scene! The protective Vil, shielding his beloved with the ultimate act of affection—shared proximity!”

You and Vil turned to glare at him, but Vil’s arms stayed firmly around you.

“Remind me to confiscate that later,” you muttered.

Vil’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “As you wish, darling.”

And so, you sat there, Vil refusing to move from your lap, your legs starting to go numb, and the entire lounge buzzing with gossip. But hey—at least you weren’t helping any more freshmen.

Masterlist

[jupiteress]

First kiss – Viktor x Reader (POV)

This is a fanfic I asked Chatgpt to write for me with a soft and kind Viktor, it was cute so I am sharing :)

---

The lab was quiet, the hum of machinery a soft backdrop as you and Viktor worked side by side. It was late—far later than you’d intended to stay—but neither of you seemed ready to leave.

Viktor leaned over his notes, muttering to himself in Zaunite as his pen scratched across the page. His concentration was magnetic, and you found yourself watching the way his fingers moved, the faint furrow in his brow.

“Staring won’t solve the equation,” he said suddenly, his tone laced with that dry humor that always made you smile.

You flushed, snapping your gaze back to the schematics in front of you. “Maybe not, but it’s entertaining.”

He glanced at you, a flicker of amusement softening his tired features. “Entertaining, hm? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You grinned. “You should.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you longer than usual. There was a nervous energy in the air, a tension that neither of you had acknowledged out loud but that had been building for weeks.

When Viktor finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost tentative. “You… You make this easier, you know. The work, the late nights. Everything.”

Your heart fluttered at the admission. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. I’m just here to make sure you don’t burn out.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” he murmured, his golden eyes locking onto yours.

You didn’t know who moved first—maybe it was you, maybe it was him. But suddenly the space between you was gone, and his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow, hesitant at first, as if he was afraid you might pull away. His lips were soft, his touch cautious but steady. When his hand brushed your cheek, you leaned into him, letting him know it was okay.

It deepened naturally, his other hand resting lightly on your waist. He was careful, almost too careful, as though he thought you might break.

“Viktor,” you whispered against his lips, your hands moving to his shoulders. “You don’t have to hold back.”

He pulled away just enough to look at you, his eyes filled with something raw and vulnerable. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me,” you said firmly, your fingers brushing along his jawline. “Not like this.”

His breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his usual composure. “You are… so much kinder than I deserve.”

You silenced him with another kiss, this one more confident, more certain. His hands tightened slightly on your waist, drawing you closer. The world outside the lab ceased to exist; it was just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of something that had been building for so long.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths uneven. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted softly, his voice trembling.

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” you replied, your hand slipping into his.

And in that moment, you felt the first stirrings of something even deeper, something that neither of you had words for yet—but that didn’t need them.

——————-

Part II « First time » is out, link down bellow

[littlemissaiko]

Sneak peak of the first chapter because why not 🥰🥰

You swing to a high roof, the highest you can find, for the view of the shitty city you have to protect now . sitting down on the edge, you let your legs dangle, looking at the very gray (very comfortable looking. atleast from this height) asphalt on the street below. You're holding a small paper bag with takeout inside, Inhaling deeply, to smell it in all its unhealthy glory before opening it. A perfect-well, not really, cause of the moving andswinging, it might have gotten a little messed up, but it's still perfectly eat-able! You hope...

You take the burger out, a classic, iconic, simple, and delicious cheeseburger. The type that makes you pause for a second while wondering if you should really put something like this in your body before you say fuck it and eat it anyways. You disable your mask, freeing your face for the first time in a couple of hours

"Karen? Can you play one of the voice messages from the 'favorites' folder? Or a video, whichever works, as long as mister stark is in it..." you take the wrapper off of the cheeseburger and a mechanical voice rings out through the quiet-as quiet a crime ridden city with sirens playing in the background 24/7 like Christmas music in malls during December-can get. Obviously.

"Playing, 'happy birthday kid' sent on ------ at 1:31 A.M"

You let out a huff of amusement, mixed with tiredness, taking a bite of the burger

"Kind of ironic isn't it... almost like a bad joke?" You scoff "...Happy birthday, mister Stark" your voice cracks a little before going going silent at the end, just then, a message that was sent to your suit when you were on patrol starts playing, and another voice starts talking.

"I was planning on telling you later, after school hours, but then i saw someone on youtube livestreaming 'the spider patroling and fighting #onlyinnewyork!' despite there being a weather warning sent out, honestly kid!- when will you start taking care of yourself?!

I have a lot more to say, but I won't, for the sake of my sanity, and for the sake of today. I had Happy make some reservations at a new restaurant that opened near your apartment, so your aunt can also join us. 7 pm, don't be late. Happy birthday, kid. I'll see you later, don't stay out too late and take care-"

The recording is cut off, followed by a sound that sounds like a choked sob, but not quiet there. You try to calm yourself, taking a deep breath in. 'Four seconds in, eight seconds out. Four seconds in-'

You can't afford to panic here. There's so much left to be done... but at the same time, that gaping hole in your chest, in your heart. It hurts more then any wound you've ever had. It leaves you feeling incomplete, you desperately want to fill that space with warmth, comfort, home...

'I can't- I shouldn't...' You can't risk more people getting hurt. Not again. Never again. Your heart wants you to pull yourself together and seek comfort in the arms of someone, anyone... but at the same time your mind is screaming at you to make sure not to let anyone in, to keep everyone, no matter how strong, at arm's length.

"I'm tired mister Stark..." the sky is faintly visible. A rare occasion for Gotham, or so you've heard, you haven't really had the time for stargazing in the recent past. It might just be the loneliness talking, or you may have finally lost your mind and started hallucinating, but the stars seem to twinkle a little brighter then before.

EXCUSE MY AMATEURISH WRITING IT'S MY FIRST TIME DOING THIS 🙏🙏

This thing has been picking away at my mind for I don't know how long and it's killing me inside that there isn't already a fic like this

Imagine spider!reader coming to the DCU after the event of no way home. Like after they defeated everyone? reader asks strange to send them to another world without any spider-people AND making everyone in their og world forget who they are?

They got more trauma (✨️) and don't want to hurt the people around them anymore, so they land in Gotham.

Imagine spider!reader still having their suit along with Karen. Imagine the potential ANGST of spider!reader sitting on a rooftop eating a classic American cheeseburger while asking Karen to play videos of Tony?

Imagine this teenager, who has just kind of given up and only holds back for the sake of not killing people.

Imagine the reaction of the other vigilantes of Gotham when they see this meta(?)human who is going by the name of spider.

Imagine their reaction when it's a homeless teenager orphan 👌

Imagine spider!reader doesn't come with batfam because they don't trust anyone enough to share their identity because of what happened when they trusted Mysterio?

IMAGINE 😭

[meelusinee]

SANTA’S LETTERS | R.B X READER

in which you convince regulus to make letters to santa

FICMAS MASTERLIST

pairing: regulus black x reader tags: fluff!!! word count: 2.8k

author's note: merry christmas everyone!!!! i haven't written in a really really long time, though i think i'll be taking a writing break up til new years!! i wanted to give u all a christmas special thoughhh, albeit a little late in the day <3 ONE MORE THING TO NOTE when i come back i plan on a one to two week schedule rather than an every day schedule, though no promises <3

PRESENTS

“My love,” you heard Regulus’ voice calling out to you, a curious expression on his face. 

“What is it, love?” you asked, turning to face him.

He cleared his throat before holding up a photo. “Who is this?”

It was a small photo, one from the picture book your mother had gifted you before she died. That photo was a memory you held rather dearly to you. A younger you, maybe from your Fourth or Fifth Year, sitting with the mall Santa. 

“That man?” you asked, a small smirk growing on your face.

He nodded, pointing at the mall Santa. “Yes, the guy. Is that a grandpa or someone?”

“That’s Santa.” you smiled softly, leaning forward over the back of the couch.

“What is Santa?” he asked you.

You weren’t sure how to explain it to him, shrugging simply. “Well, he’s a myth for children. Kind of. Sometimes people dress up as him for children.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Christmas.” you smiled softly. “He’s meant to give out presents and stuff.”

Regulus looked down at the photo before nodding. “Oh.”

You smiled softly. “You haven’t had a Christmas gift before, have you?” 

“No, I haven’t.” he said. “Sirius might’ve when he ran away.”

You shook your head, knowing that he probably didn’t get any presents from his friends either. As much as they cared for each other, they didn’t always show it in a generous manner. Usually, it was through threats of murdering others for each other.

“How about you write a letter for Santa, we’ll mail it out to him.” you smiled.

He raised his eyebrows incredulously, not sure why that would work. “You said he was a myth.”

“Well, maybe he is.” you said with a smirk. “Maybe he isn’t. If you write a letter, you’ll see.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, kissing your forehead. “Fine.”

“How would you open a letter without the other person knowing you’re opening it?” 

Remus looked up from his book and towards you as you asked the question, raising an eyebrow curiously. “From Regulus?”

“For Santa.” you said. “He didn’t know what Santa was, which I think is a crime.”

“So you’re going to open it and pretend you didn’t so he can experience it.” Remus finished your thought, grabbing the letter from your hands and casting a small charm on it.

“He might’ve put a charm to detect things!” you winced, watching him open the letter.

“Please,” he chuckled. “I did the same thing with Sirius, tested 20 different charms to see what would work. I know that he won’t.”

“You’re crazy.” you chuckled softly.

“So are you, apparently.” he smirked.

“Alright, how did you do it?” Regulus asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” you repeated nonchalantly, smiling softly at the small gift he had in his hand.

It was a notebook that he had been wanting for a while, though you weren’t exactly sure why. He seemed to have an obsession with that brand, as he already had one he’d been filling these past few months.

“The present.” he deadpanned. “How did you know that I wanted one?” 

“I didn’t know, Santa did!” you smiled brightly, clapping your hands.

Regulus looked at you with an expression that said ‘really’, though he knew that you probably wouldn’t tell him. “Thank you.” he whispered.

“I’m not the one to thank, thank Santa.” you said casually, sitting down beside him as he handed you your present. “What is it?”

“Open it.” he smiled.

You opened it with a small smile, ripping the paper to see a journal. It was a journal like the one you got him, except it was full of things. A unique amount of things. Love letters, small photos, poems, and other trinkets.

“What is this?” you asked gently, voice wet as you spoke.

“A journal,” he whispered gently. “For you. I’ve found that you’re the only way I can truly make art that I’m proud of.”

“You,” you muttered, sniffling softly as you flipped through and read some of the pages. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” he whispered.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

thank u all so much for readingg!!! im sorry i havent been posting as much, christmas time is extremely busy (especially since my one year anniversary is like two days before too sob sob sob) I DONT REGRET A THING THOOOO

THANK U ALL FOR SUPPORTING!!! AS ALWAYS, please like comment and reblog, and have a lovelyyyy break <3

[youleftmenochoicebut]

HATE TO BE LAME — james potter.

SUMMARY. — three times you almost tell James you love him + the one time you actually do.

PAIRING. — james potter x fem!childhoodbsf!reader

WARNINGS. — fluff, angst, uhm… death? if smth else here may be triggering lmk, im still kinda learning all this

A/N. — sorry for cross-tagging! i think i only did on that first post, haven’t done it on the rest and def won’t do it again!

1970.

you’re sitting by an old oak tree, laying back against it, holding an apple in your hand. you throw it up in the air then catch it without much fuss, having been doing this for almost thirty minutes. it’s getting pretty boring, waiting for your bestfriend in your usual meeting spot.

the wheat field you and James have made your personal hang out place is perfectly centered between your houses, both of you having the same amount of road to pass to get here, and it’s been your favorite since forever.

most of the time, like right now, you meet to fly around and practice on your broomsticks, even though you’re too young to even have them. perks of being born in wizarding families that teach magic and all from the moment you’re born.

another heavy sigh leaves your lips, and you bite into your apple, chewing on it completely. the summer’s merciless this year, the temperatures especially high for britain, and the heat pisses you off even more than James being late.

you stand up after eating your apple, gathering your stuff annoyed, when he finally shows up. you hear him first, only then see him when you turn around.

“hi there, mate!” he calls out, clutching his broomstick in his hand as he practically runs to you, and you look at him unamused.

“you’re late, Jamie.” your lips quiver, and you cross your hands over your chest, quickly moving back to picking up your toys and others. “almost an hour.”

“i know, i’m sorry!” he groans softly, approaching you with an apologetic but still goofy smile, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “my mum made me tidy my room first. even under my bed! it was a nightmare!”

you pout, mulling over your options for an answer, careful eyes set on him and sliding over his form. his curls are messed up (you can see a spider web cling to them all the way from here), the glasses on his nose askew, and he’s breathing faster, probably running to you from home the whole way. you slowly nod, putting your things down again.

“i made you a wreath when i was waiting for you.” you say as you search through your bag, then pull out the wreath, motioning him to sit down in the shadows under the oak. the wreath is clumsy, but nonetheless pretty, mostly made of wild flowers, poppies and daisies.

you place it on his head, smiling when you notice his grin only get bigger, and you pull away soon.

“i’m gonna wear it all the time, Y/N!” James exclaims enthusiastically, waving his hands like an excited toddler, and for a while you let him tell you stories. when he mentions going into the nearby river to catch some frogs, you nod, but as he stands up you pull him back down, remembering your mother’s words.

you turn around to your bag, taking out a bottle of sunscreen, then look at him again.

“my mom said that her muggle friend bought her this. it’s a cream to protect you so the sun doesn’t hurt you!” you explain at his surprised expression, and you know you were the same level confused when your mother told you about it.

you squeeze some of that sunscreen onto your palm, from there putting it on James’ face and slowly rubbing it in.

“i think you’re going to be in Hufflepuff.” James murmurs suddenly and you raise your eyebrows, your hands freezing on his cheeks. “you’re just so kind.”

you and James are starting Hogwarts next year and the closer it gets the more excited you two grow, the only fear growing along with your excitement being that of a case where you don’t end up in the same house. with James being sure he’s gonna be a gryffindor, you’re sure you aren’t.

“my whole family’s been in Slytherin.” you shrug, renewing your movements on his face, and you’re trying hard not to chuckle when he makes a stupid face at you.

“well, it doesn’t matter to me!” he tugs at the end of your braid and you push him away playfully, rolling your eyes. “you’re my bestest friend. i’m gonna like you best no matter which house you end up in.”

that’s when it hits you. even thought you’re only ten, even if it doesn’t make sense.

i love you.

i love you, it rings out in your head like an alarm clock going off, i love you.

the words almost slip past your lips, but you manage to happily crook out something else instead.

“you’re the bestest, Jamie.”

1975.

“Y/N, stop running!” James groans as his eyes follow you around the huge room. you, him, Sirius and Peter have been doing the whole ordeal to become animagi for a good few weeks, and now that everything was done, the only thing left was to actually change.

the boys… aren’t having it, for sure. Peter’s all red on his chubby face, panting heavily, Sirius is deeply focused on the task (trying to act like a dog in hopes it’ll just work like that), James only has his eyes on you while Remus just reads a book in the corner of the room.

and you’ve actually managed to change into your animagi form after only a few hours of trying, now running around the room of requirement in your tiny arctic fox body, little tongue out cutely.

you stop in front of James, tilting your head, and then just reach out your paw to put it on his knee. he lets out a relieved sigh before you take off again, your claws making almost a clicking sound against the floor as you run over to lay down in Remus’ lap.

“oh, c’mon, mate! stop bragging, will ya?” James huffs, rolling his eyes as he leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. you whine, and Remus scratches you behind your ear, making you roll onto your back playfully. “Y/N, i’m not joking. change back.”

if you could, you would roll your eyes right now, jumping off Remus and freezing in place for a moment. it’s the first time you turn back into human form, and neither of you know how it’s actually gonna go.

so, mere seconds later, you’re laying naked on the floor in front of four teenage boys. Sirius smirks, but turns his gaze away soon enough, Peter looks away so quickly he bumps his head against the wall, and Remus doesn’t even glance up from his book at you.

James, on the other hand, skips over to you, throwing a blanket over your body. you sigh, suddenly feeling sore from the transformation, and you look at him with a frown.

“you alright?” he asks, reaching out to brush your hair back away from your face, and he gives you a smile.

„yeah.” you whisper, the frown on your face disappearing soon enough as you hear the voice in your head again. it’s quiet at first, growing louder by every second passing with your eyes set on him.

i love you. i love you. i love you.

but you keep your mouth shut, painfully aware of your friends being right behind you.

1977.

it’s snowing outside the castle, and it’s snowing lots. for early december you’d say it’s really a big amount. most of the students are out on the hogwart’s grounds, playing in the white landscape, while you are strolling down the halls with an obstinate expression on your face, holding your wand in your hand tightly.

you’re determined to tell James how you feel. finally, after all those years, you’ve decided it’s time. you bump into someone, only realizing it’s Remus after you’ve passed him, not even registering what he’s said to you. it doesn’t matter now, because you’re going to tell James how you feel and you’re going to live happily ever after.

yeah, right. sure.

you storm into the Gryffindor common room, practically jumping with each step you take, feeling like you could just fly off any second. you see James talking animatedly with Sirius on the couches, and they’re both as excited as you have ever seen them.

„hi, boys!” you skip over to them, ruffling Sirius’ perfectly messy hair, which earns a scoff from him, then turn to James „can i talk to you for a moment?”

„sure, foxy. what’s up?” he takes your wrist, leading you into a secluded corner of the huge space, and you can see him beaming. he’s always like a walking ray of sunshine, but now it’s all so… so much more. „oui, actually, i need to tell you something.”

your heart skips a beat at that. that’s it, you think, he’s gonna confess his undying love for me, for sure. well, the grimace that graces your features after his next words is a clear indicator that’s not true.

„Lily agreed to go on a date with me!” he practically, no scratch that, he definitely yells out, and for a moment you swear you can see his ears move in excitement. „can you believe it? i wanted to try, one last time, and i took Moony’s advice! i went up to her alone, and i just… just asked her. and she said yes.”

you nod, mustering up a small smile, but as James continues to yap along you dissociate. that’s not how it was supposed to go. yeah, of course you always knew James liked Lily. at least, that’s what he’s been telling you. you, and Remus, were never convinced. you’ve thought he liked the thrill, the adrenaline, that he just liked bugging her. apparently not.

you don’t realize you zoned out until his finger pokes your cheek, and your eyes snap back to him. you let out a forced chuckle, nodding again, before you manage to speak.

„that’s great, James.” you say, squeezing his hand with that fake smile on, and he’s too spiraled on the thought of Lily to notice you being off. „i hope Lils knows she just tapped a keeper.”

1978.

„stop messing it up, James.” you grumble as you adjust his bowtie for what must be the thousandth time, your tongue stuck out slightly in concentration as you fiddle with the material. sure, you could do it quickly with magic, but doing it like this makes you calm your own nerves.

„sorry.” he mutters quietly, his eyes darting all around the room before setting on you. you step back after a moment, crossing your arms over your chest while you look him up and down.

all the guests are out in the garden, already waiting for the groom to come out so the ceremony can begin. James looks absolutely handsome in his tuxedo, but honestly there’s not a time where this man doesn’t look fine as hell.

„don’t be nervous. you’re marrying the love of your life.” you smile at him softly, reaching out to smooth out the collar of his dress shirt, trying to keep your heart from sinking lower than it already has. „and if anything, Sirius and I will help you escape.” you add jokingly, winking at him in hopes of loosening up the atmosphere.

after all you’re his best woman. yeah, it sounds weird, but if Sirius is the best man, then you’re the best woman. that’s all you’ll ever be, and you’ve made peace with it. somewhat.

„yeah, foxy. right.” James lets out a heavy breath, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards ever so slightly, and he fixes up his curls once more. „we should go. Lils is all ready probably.”

„before we go…” you sigh, your lips pursing for a beat, your gaze turning gentler. „i love you, Jamie.”

you say those words, even though you know they will be misinterpreted. you say them, even though you’ll never explain them. you say them, and you wish you could see something click in his eyes, something that makes him realize it’s you he should be marrying right now.

you say them, and you watch him cheerfully reply.

„oui, i love you too, Y/N!” he chimes, giving you a hug too quick and too short to be anything more than friends, then takes a step back. „now, c’mon, i gotta get married!”

1981. (status: erased)

you’re here.

you feel your heart race in your chest as you stand in front of the Potter’s house in Godric’s Hollow. it’s been hours since it happened, a week since you last saw them, a day since you last talked to them.

you take a breath, then another one. it’s excruciatingly painful to just breathe, and the cold, almost winter air is not helping with that.

you’re only here because it’s your job. your partner’s off, talking to the neighbors, and you’re supposed to go in and investigate.

you know that someone took Harry to st. Mungo’s, probably one of your own subordinates, so at least you know your godson is safe.

but it doesn’t change the fact, the reality of what’s waiting for you inside.

your steps are slow, unsure, as you make your way inside. the house you had countless happy memories from and about, all of them destroyed now. without the lights on, without the sound of James’ and Harry’s giggles, without Lily’s warm smile, the house feels intimidating. threatening even.

you think of simpler times, or even moments from merely weeks ago, when your whole friend group hang out here. now, all that’s gone. Sirius just got arrested, Peter went missing, Remus locked himself out. Dorcas and Marlene grieved, so did Mary.

the wooden floor creaks underneath your leather boots, and you remember the time when last christmas Sirius hung there mistletoe, not realizing he would have to actually kiss someone else than Remus, and ended up giving plenty of kisses to James when they went in and out of the kitchen passing drinks.

you go past that, walking further into the house, and then you see him. well, not completely for now, just his legs. you can feel the lump in your throat grow bigger, and you swallow, your eyes watering already. you approach the staircase, falling down onto your knees without flinching when they hit the stair in a totally painful angle, and a sob rips through you. you look at the lifeless body of James Potter laying across the stairs, and you cannot control the tears that fall down your face.

you move up a few stairs, now sitting by his head, and you adjust his crooked glasses, feeling the salty taste of your tears on your lips.

„i love you, James.” you whisper shakily as your hand rests over his cheek, and another sob wrecks your body. „i’m going to raise Harry the best as i can, i promise.”

[eighth-house-tarot]

🤍 pick an emoji, mini reading 🤍

Spirit Messages for You 💌

method: random posts selected from my spiritual pinterest board

₊˚ʚᗢ₊˚✧ﾟhow to pick // disclaimers ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

🕺🏽 🦬 🩰 🎠 🧿 🪬 🧬 🔭 🪆

Inhale, exhale 3x, pick

★ personal readings ★ support me ★ other readings ★

Pile 1 🕺🏽

I think the sublime confusion is from 19 to 29. You think you are late for everything, you’re a has-been, nothing is happening… there’s no opportunity for you, the world is closed, everything is a disaster, you wanna die. And then you’re 30. […] I’m much happier at 53 than I was at 23. - Guillermo del Toro

Pile 2 🦬

Imagine you are pulling negativity and pain away from your body.

Pile 3 🩰

Before a child talks, they sing. Before they write, they draw. As soon as they stand they dance. Art is fundamental to human expression. -Phylicia Rashad

Pile 4 🎠

What if cell by cell you gently and very gradually shift your thoughts of self-shame to a sparkling vibration of self-celebration and how would that feel in your heart, in your body? - Yumi Sakugawa

Pile 5 🧿

The time is now. (image of a clock and all the numbers are the word “now”)

Pile 6 🪬

I was no longer needing to be special, because I was no longer so caught in my own puny separateness that had to keep proving I was something. I was part of the universe, like a tree, or like grass is, or like water is. Like storms, like roses. I was just part of it all. - Ram Daas

Pile 7 🧬

If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it. - Zora Neale Hurston

Pile 8 🔭

The first feminist gesture is to say: “OK, they’re looking at me. But I’m looking at them.” The act of deciding to look, of deciding that the world is not defined by how people see me, but how I see them. - Agnés Varda (images of Sophia Coppola holding a camera on the red carpet at the Venice Film Festival in 2003 and 2023)

Pile 9 🪆

This summer I will forgive myself. I’ll braid my own hair and lay in the sun. My past is farther behind me today than any other day. And tomorrow I’ll say the same. Time will leave me with peace. I am allowing my soul to be kind again this summer. I will forgive myself.

pngs: click here // dividers: click here // I do not consent to my writing, blog's likeness, or anything associated with my work, to be used to teach any machine learning software and artificial intelligence for any purpose.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Surprise Boyfriend

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Plus size reader

Warning: Cursing, mentions that reader is plus size but doesn't emphasises, insecurities

Summary: You're in love with Eddie but he doesn't like you back. Right? You're just friends. That's why it's so surprising when he asks to meet your parents.

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□□

I’m not sure when things started to change between Eddie and me. We've been friends for a while, hanging out after school, talking about everything from Dungeons & Dragons to heavy metal. We joke around, complain about the crazy world around us, and escape to our own little bubble where things just make sense. But lately? It feels different.

Eddie’s always been a little flirty with me. It's just his nature. He’s got that sarcastic charm that comes with being an all-around badass—a wild, untamed guy that everyone notices. His long, messy hair, the leather jacket he always wears, his constant rock ‘n’ roll vibe, and, of course, the undeniable smirk that’s always on his face. I never really thought much of it. We’re friends. He’s just Eddie being Eddie. But now? I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to it.

The way he looks at me sometimes. The way his arm casually drapes around my shoulders when we sit close. The way he holds my hand, like it’s something natural, like we’ve been doing it forever.

But then I remember—Eddie’s the kind of guy who’s into wild, pretty girls. Not… well, not me. I’m not thin, I’m not what everyone expects. I’ve got extra weight, and I always feel like I’m the last person someone like Eddie would ever want to date. He’s got a reputation to uphold, after all, and I’m just his friend. Nothing more.

It’s a Saturday, and we’re lying on Eddie’s bed again, watching one of those cheesy 80s slasher flicks. We’ve been here for hours, the room filled with the scent of old pizza and the faint smell of smoke from the joint we shared earlier. Eddie’s strumming his guitar quietly in the corner, the soft music blending with the sounds of the TV. He’s so comfortable here, and for the first time in a long while, I feel relaxed too.

"So..." Eddie glances over at me, his eyes mischievous. “When am I gonna meet your parents?”

My heart skips a beat, and I turn to face him, unsure of what he’s getting at. “What?” I ask, the word coming out a little more confused than I intended.

“You know,” he says, still grinning. “I feel like I’ve spent enough time with you, your friends, and your—well, your extended family. What about the folks? When do I get to meet them?”

I blink, unsure if he’s joking or being serious. “Eddie, what the hell? Why would you need to meet my parents?”

He sits up, running a hand through his messy hair, his expression turning slightly more serious, but there’s still a playful edge to it. “Because, Y/N, I’m your boyfriend.”

I laugh a little, but then I catch the look in his eyes. He’s not joking. Or at least, he doesn’t seem to think he’s joking. My breath catches in my throat. “Boyfriend?” I repeat, barely able to hide the confusion in my voice.

Eddie chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Y/N, come on. We’ve been going on dates for months. I even took you to that picnic last weekend, remember? We smoked a little weed, and I bought you dinner afterward. That’s a date, sweetheart. Plus I invite you to my shows and then dinner afterward. I consider that a date.”

I swallow hard. Oh god. I didn’t realize that’s what that was. I thought we were just hanging out, just… being us. I mean, Eddie’s invited people to see his band before, so I just assumed this was another one of those things. He’s always friendly to everyone. And yeah, we’ve shared some quiet moments together, but I never thought it meant what he clearly thinks it does.

“But you invite everyone to your shows, Eddie,” I say, trying to explain myself, my voice trembling a little. “I thought you were just being nice, like you always are. Like, friendly Eddie.”

He narrows his eyes at me, leaning in a little closer. “I’m always nice, sure. But I don't pay for everyone's dinner. Being nice isn't the same thing as asking someone on a date, is it?” He gives me a pointed look, clearly a little frustrated.

I chew on my lip, still unsure of what I’m missing. “I don’t know, Eddie,” I say quietly. “I just thought… we were friends.”

He grins, his usual cocky charm returning. “I thought we were more than that. I mean, come on. We’ve been holding hands, sharing this bed, watching movies together. You’re practically my girlfriend without all the labels.”

I feel a warmth spread across my cheeks as I glance down at my hands. He’s right—we’ve been close. Really close. But I never thought of it in those terms. I’m not used to being the girl who gets that kind of attention. Especially not from someone like Eddie.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper. “I didn’t realize you felt that way. I didn’t think you wanted to be with me.”

Eddie gently takes my hand, squeezing it softly. “Why wouldn’t I want to be with you? You’re incredible. You’ve been there for me, Y/N. You come to all my shows, you cheer me on like you’re my biggest fan. You support me—like a girlfriend would. I thought you knew.”

I feel my heart pounding in my chest. Does he really feel that way about me?

The weight of his words settles on me, and I begin to understand. He’s been there for me too, in his own way. He’s always included me, always been there to make me laugh, always made sure I felt important. I start to realize that maybe I’ve been blind to what’s been right in front of me this whole time.

“We’ve been hanging out so much,” I say, a little embarrassed, “I just thought it was normal. I mean, I never thought you were asking me out. I thought you were just… being Eddie.”

Eddie smiles, the tenderness in his eyes making my chest tighten. “I get it,” he says. “But I’ve been asking you out, Y/N. We’ve been going on dates. I don’t do this with anyone else, you know. It’s always been you.”

I nod, trying to process everything. The hand-holding, the moments when he pulls me closer when we’re sitting next to each other, the way he makes sure I’m always part of whatever he’s doing. He’s been showing me, in his own way, that he cares.

“You’re right,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I just… I didn’t know. I didn’t realize.”

Eddie brushes a lock of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle, and I can’t help but melt into it. “Well, now you do,” he says softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

I smile, feeling something shift between us. Maybe I’ve been blind to it all along. Maybe I was the one who didn’t see what was right there in front of me. But now I do. And somehow, knowing that Eddie really does want to be with me makes everything feel right.

As Eddie leans back, his arm sliding across my shoulders, I feel like maybe—just maybe—I’m finally seeing things clearly. And I can’t help but wonder what the next step for us is.

[danverslvrr]

Workaholic

Emily Prentiss x reader

summary: You’re engrossed in a case file and Emily tries to coax you to bed.

a/n: this was originally an oc thing i wrote before i changed it to be an x reader and i haven’t grammar checked or anything so apologies in advance

1243 words | fluff

———————————————

The soft light from the desk lamp casts a warm glow over the room, the quiet ticking of the clock almost too loud in the silence of the house. You sit at your desk, the low hum of your computer and the occasional rustling of paper the only sounds that filled the air. You’re in your usual home office setup—comfortable, focused, and deeply entrenched in the case file that was laid out before you. Your plain t-shirt and sweatpants were a far cry from your usual professional attire, but it was the kind of comfort you need at the end of a long day. Blue-light glasses sit precariously at the end of your nose as you skim through the pages, eyes scanning the details with the same precision you bring to every case.

It had been a long week. The team had been buried in paperwork, and you haven’t been able to shake the feeling that something was slipping through the cracks. You knew you had to get this right, and the determination that often fueled you was now keeping you glued to your desk. But it was late. Too late, really.

The quiet sound of footsteps approaches from behind you, soft but deliberate, and you don’t need to turn around to know it’s Emily. The subtle scent of her perfume, the soft brush of her clothes as she moves, always gives her away. Emily’s presence, however, wasn’t the only thing you had grown used to; the relaxed way Emily moves around your shared home, the quiet strength she exudes was something you cherish every day. But right now, as much as you love the work you do, Emily was the only one who could pull you from the depths of your concentration with just a touch.

You feel Emily’s arms slip around your shoulders from behind, her embrace warm and familiar, and you close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to relax into the slight but welcome affection. Emily leans down, her lips brushing softly against the top of your temple in a kiss that ls light, tender.

"Hey," Emily murmurs, her voice low, almost coaxing. "You’ve been at this for hours. Don’t you think you deserve a break?"

Your fingers pause for a split second over the mousepad, but you don’t pull away from the screen. "I just need to finish this," you say, your voice calm but filled with the exhaustion you couldn’t quite shake. "It’ll only take a few more minutes."

Emily’s arms tighten around you, the soft pressure of her hug more grounding than anything else. "You know, you’re allowed to rest every once in a while," Emily says, her voice light but laced with affection. "You’ve been working hard, and I think you’ve earned a little downtime. Come on, just ten minutes. I miss you."

You let out a quiet sigh, feeling the weight of the case and the pull of Emily’s affection. Your mind is still caught in the case, but Emily’s presence, so close, is impossible to ignore. The way she spoke, so softly but with that subtle edge of determination, made it hard for you to hold on to your focus.

You slowly pull your glasses from your face, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was almost midnight. You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed. Emily wasn’t wrong; it had been hours, and maybe, just maybe, you could afford a small break.

Reluctantly, you close the case file, clicking the lid of your laptop shut. You didn’t need to look at Emily to know the smile that was spreading across her face. Emily’s fingers gently trace the back of your neck before she leans in and kisses your cheek, a small, playful kiss that brought the first spark of lightness to your chest.

“Thank you,” Emily whispers, her voice light and teasing.

You finally turn your chair to face Emily, your expression softening. "I’m just trying to be efficient." Your voice was still tinged with the usual edge of determination, but the warmth of Emily’s presence was making it impossible to resist the urge to let go of your work, just for a moment.

Emily takes your hand and gently pulls you up from the chair, guiding you toward your shared bedroom. The quiet weight of your body pressed against Emily as you moved and the familiarity of the gesture almost comforting. You let yourself be led, not with the usual hesitation but with a quiet surrender to the affection Emily had to offer. You let Emily guide you, your body finally easing into a sense of calm you hadn’t realized you needed.

You reach the bed and sit down at the edge, legs dangling over the side. Emily climbs up behind you, her movements graceful, and without a word, she slides into your lap, her arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders. Your breath hitches slightly at the closeness, the warmth of Emily’s body pressing against yours.

For a moment, you just sit there, your arms instinctively holding Emily close, your face buried in the soft strands of Emily’s hair. The quiet of the room wrapped around you, a blanket of calmness that was only enhanced by the simple act of being in each other’s presence. Your hands gently rest on Emily’s back, fingertips lightly tracing the soft fabric of Emily’s shirt as you lean your head forward, pressing your forehead to Emily’s shoulder.

Emily sighs softly, as if she had been waiting for this, and you can feel the steady rhythm of Emily’s heartbeat beneath your palm. The closeness feels like a sanctuary. You can feel yourself melting into it, your earlier tension slowly dissipating, bit by bit.

“See?” Emily murmurs, her voice soft as she rests her chin on your shoulder. “This is exactly what you needed. Just a little break, a little time for us. You work so hard, Y/n. You deserve this.”

You chuckle quietly, your hands slipping up to gently frame Emily’s face, your thumbs brushing over the soft skin of Emily’s cheeks. "You always know how to make me stop thinking," you mumble softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Emily’s eyes meet yours, soft but filled with an unspoken promise. "I don’t mind being the distraction you need," she whispers back, her smile tender and knowing.

You lean back slightly, guiding Emily to lay on top of you as you settle against the pillows, your body feeling weightless under the quiet pressure of Emily’s presence. Emily’s arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer, and you finally allow yourself to sink into the moment, your breath slowing as you relax into the softness of the bed and the warmth of the shared silence.

For the first time that night, you let go. There were no case files, no distractions. Just the steady rise and fall of Emily’s chest on top of you, the gentle pressure of Emily’s body against your own, and the quiet certainty that in this moment, everything was exactly as it should be.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words flowing out of you without thought, the affection in your voice raw and genuine.

Emily’s smile softened, her arms tightening around you as if to hold you even closer. “I love you too,” she replies, her voice full of warmth and tenderness. And in that moment, as you held each other close, the world outside your bedroom faded away.

[seiwas]

sniff hiccs i’m back begging for mattsun + friends -> lovers + stomach (ALSO ILY)

thanks for sending saint!! sorry i'm getting to this so late, ily 🥺

mattsun + stomach + friends -> lovers

contains: pining mattsun, christmas fluff!, seijoh 4 dynamics bc ofc they are a scheming conniving bunch, kind of ambiguous?? but there is def something, suggestive innuendos, fluff!!!!!!!!

ugly christmas sweaters aren't issei's thing. not one bit.

they're itchy, first and foremost, and you'd think, with something that horrendous, they might as well have some kind of redeeming quality (like wool-soft thermal lining)—but nope, they're equally as uncomfortable as they are ugly.

the hem of this year's sweater, in particular, rides up his disproportionally long torso, making it impossible for him to reach forward or upward for anything. the cuffs of his sleeves land at that awkward length that just barely covers his wrists, leaving his fingertips cold. for issei, an essential criteria of any good sweater is that the sleeves must be long enough for him to pull over his knuckles—a quality that this one definitely does not have.

plus, it's ugly. (did he already mention that?)

"oh shit," takahiro wheezes, holding in his laughter as he reads the text on issei's sweater. he bites down his side comment and nods his head instead, "i respect it."

issei stares at him, deadpan.

since arriving at hajime's apartment for your group's yearly christmas celebration, issei's kept himself confined to the kitchen. there are many reasons for this: one, the alcohol is much easier to refill back here; two, not everyone's arrived yet; and three—

"'unwrap me, baby?'" hajime steps into the space, eyebrow raised as he tilts his head at the very obvious red bow adorning issei's sweater. the gold text on the fabric is even more evident.

"i swear," takahiro tells hajime as he swings an arm around issei's shoulder, "if this isn't his profession of lo―"

"shut the fuck up," the taller male elbows him as hajime chuckles across the room, "it's the stupid theme."

issei hates christmas sweaters, and yet every year, without fail, you manage to rope him in to wearing one away. regardless of its stupid theme.

"well, they should be around ten minutes out," hajime replies, checking the notifications on his smart watch, "so if you plan to… you know…”

issei shrugs, taking another sip from his glass of gin, "s'just a small crush."

but everyone knows it's much more than that.

.

you and tooru arrive with arms full of gifts. one by one, you approach them, present in one hand as you go in for a hug with the other. it's a typical, normal thing you do, but his heart instantly hammers the moment you stand in front of him. the soft smile you give him is one he knows well, and if he wants to be a little hopeful, it's one he thinks you give to him, alone, too.

your arm wraps around issei's waist as you lean in for a hug, the blend of your shampoo and perfume hitting him all at once. the alcohol has done much to ease his mind, but little to dull his senses, his arm instinctively bringing you closer. when you linger in his hold for just that bit longer, all his thoughts turn silent.

everyone’s known of this thing between you and issei for a while; it's hard not to notice after all the years of mutual pining and undeniable chemistry. it’s even gotten to the point that tooru’s added the event of you and issei getting together to his christmas wishlist.

but, you always say you don't think issei sees you like that, because if he did, he would have said something by now. which, to issei's defense, the only reason he hasn't said anything is because the last time someone tried to ask you out, you said, "i'm not looking for a relationship right now."

takahiro argues that it's been a few years since then, and that your answer would have been very different should issei have been the one to ask. but still.

"'santa baby, oh baby yes baby,'" hajime squints at your christmas sweater, reading the words slowly.

"dude, you have to stop reading that shit out loud," takahiro groans.

tooru laughs from the couch, "unwrap me, baby’ and that? cute! you’re talking through your sweaters."

issei's expression remains unbothered as he watches you turn shy, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before walking over to join tooru on the couch.

"at least issei's the only one who takes the themes seriously,” you jokingly huff and pout.

.

issei should have known his friends were up to no good tonight, with the outright teasing and the weird way hajime’s been acting this entire time.

the kitchen is surprisingly full right after dinner; cleanup duty is typically left to you and issei because it’s the only other thing the both of you can do—plus, it makes for a perfect combination: your speediness in cleaning the countertops and his ease in handling dinner plates make for an efficient team.

but tonight, everyone’s seemed to fit themselves into the tiny space, pushing you closer and closer to one another.

“mattsun, can you pass that big bowl in the cupboard?” tooru calls out, pointing at the space overhead.

issei’s gaze follows the direction of his finger, his arm reaching up high to get it.

then, it happens too quickly after that.

from an ‘accidental’ bump to a slight shove, hajime backs up into takahiro who manages to push you out of balance, leading you to cling on to the next best thing to keep you standing—

which just so happens to be issei’s stomach, lean muscles and smooth skin on full display from the way his christmas sweater has ridden up while reaching for the bowl that tooru just so happened to coincidentally ask for.

he shivers almost instantly—whether from the coolness of your fingertips or the plain fact that it’s you, he has yet to determine.

you look flustered, apologising profusely as you turn to move away, but as everyone else seems to exit the space, issei puts his hand over yours to keep you in place.

the action makes you still.

“you okay?” he manages, still a little dazed as his eyes look for yours.

the stare you return is a mixed bag of shock, confusion, and uncertainty—as if you’re not sure if you’re reading into this correctly.

so maybe it’s the alcohol, but when he jokingly asks, “taking ‘unwrapping me’ literally, huh?” while motioning to his sweater, he doesn’t think much beyond the intention of trying to lighten up the mood—of trying to make you laugh despite the awkwardness of the situation.

your eyebrows shoot up briefly before you dissolve into stifled laughs. the hand you’d rested on his stomach relaxes and you feel him do the same, his subtle sigh of relief blowing small wisps of hair away from your forehead.

this is enough for him—just the two of you in the kitchen, laughing over another one of these mishaps like it’s happened plenty of times before (because it has; too many times that he wonders if it’s normal for friends to find themselves in these situations).

but you push it just that bit further and tease him back, snorting as you mimic the words on your sweater, “guess i should say ‘santa baby, oh baby yes baby.’”

and if you both notice the evident hardness pressing into your thigh, neither you nor issei says a thing about it.

a/n: this def crosses a boundary in their friendship and they get together after a few days, just in time for new year’s 😌 unmentioned but reader has also had the fattest crush on mattsun since forever, they’re just really good at hiding it. and reader also thinks that mattsun is just naturally flirty with everyone else (he isn’t).

[quirekey]

I love your writing so much! Can I request how heatwave would react to his little human gf when she gets the chance to babysit Cece for the Greene’s and she’s literally like a mom? Even the Burns would be surprised at how good reader is acting with little Cece. Kade would fs tease heatwave as well, saying something like, “she’s loves kids, heatwave. Take notes on that.”

We all know that heatwave secretly loved robo baby in that one episode, and I feel like he feels the same for cece ngl.

Sorry if this seems too descriptive 😞 tysm tho!💛

AWWW THIS IS SO CUTE!! I’m so sorry for coming late, Christmas and stuff! I’m so glad I can write freely now. I’ll do a small introduction as an apology for my late answer >:]

(ALSO TYSMMM GAH)

[ HEATWAVE ] x [ FEMME!READER ]

[ heatwave x human!femme!motherlike!reader ]

INTRODUCTION

You were first introduced to the Rescue Bots due to Kade’s trust in you. You both were really good friends and you somehow had the tolerance to stand Kade on a daily basis. Kade with his loud mouth slipped and told you about the Rescue Bots, Heatwave specifically. Because of this, you met the Rescue Bots and got to know them on a personal level.

Months pass and seemingly Heatwave has been pushing Kade away, bringing himself to be with you more often. You saw him as a gentle soul and he appreciated that. After a while, the little love confessions happen and you both got together. (let’s say he confessed first, bluntly)

Ever since then, you both were lovers. Unfortunately you did not have any training in the field and only knew some medical procedures, so you stayed behind or went with Chief in-case of emergencies or injured civilians.

Mr. Greene trusted you a lot due to your kind and trusting nature, so overtime, he wanted to adjust you to Cece, his daughter. You adored her so when you got to babysit her, it was definitely a fun time for you. That day was a quiet one, so you and Heatwave decided to take care of Cece during the time you guys have together.

HEADCANONS

- When you brought Cece to the department while Cece slept in your arms, the Rescue Bots were definitely surprised. Boulder was the most happy with her appearance due to a past emergency where he was her little frog-plush (something that you can never get over). Chase and Blades didn’t mind too much, but Heatwave did.

- Heatwave was not fond of Cece. Having a fragile baby near massive sentient robots doesn't seem safe, but you assured Heatwave that you can keep her safe.

- You tried to get Heatwave to get along with Cece, constantly getting him to help you take care of her. You even got him to hold Cece, in your vision of course.

- After a while, you picked up Heatwave’s true feelings about little and young sentients (or technically babies). He seemed to be pretty comfortable and fond of them, he seems to be more relaxed with the knowledge that he’s taking care of such a fragile being. You think that he thinks that Cece is pretty wholesome, annoying but fun.

- Cece really likes Heatwave. It’s common that babies enjoy those ‘hard to get’ types of people, knowing deep down that they still care. You saw this so you got Cece to hang around with Heatwave more often than you, and they got along pretty well. Heatwave was too afraid to hurt her so he didn’t do much, trying to make it look like he doesn’t care when he really does.

- You do all of the chores when it comes to taking care of Cece. Changing her nappy, feeding her and bathing her. Heatwave does the comforting and rocking her to bed type of chore. Though you could easily do that yourself, the sight of Heatwave being a parental figure always warmed your heart.

- Though he’s afraid to admit it, Heatwave does get jealous of Cece. Though it’s an absolutely embarrassing secret, when Cece is around, she takes all of your attention away from him. He doesn’t care but the bitter jealousy does linger over him when you are babysitting Cece.

- You enjoy getting Heatwave to turn into a firetruck and driving you and Cece around. Cece giggling and looking outside the window is an adorable sight and Heatwave is way slower and careful when you guys do this. Doing this does help Cece sleep too. Being rocked in a Fire Truck while you told her a story is luxury in her eyes.

- I do agree, Kade does make fun of Heatwave for this A LOT. When Heatwave is helping Cece fall to sleep by telling her a story he was told in Cybertron, Kade always poke fun. He’s usually teasing and snickering at the sight, saying how much of a softie Heatwave really is. All Heatwave could do is keep rocking Cece and ignore Kade’s antics. (Or Heatwave would just tell him to shut up.)

- You gained a deeper understanding of your lover when Chase told you about the time when the Rescue Bots were assigned to take care of Robo-baby. Chase thought it’d be important to mention that Heatwave does enjoy the company of babies and that you can trust him with one. Not like you did before but it was nice to have some reassurance.

[leftoverghosts]

half in love with her, and tremendously sorry

patrick zweig x childhood friend reader

"I don’t think I could survive seeing you with someone else."

warnings: nsfw!!! some curse words. pretty much plot so i could write reader begging for it again (my one good party trick). use of she/her for reader. no use of y/n. not beta read.

nori says: to the anon who requested this, i love you. psa: i'm going to hang up my horndog hat for a bit and return to my angst roots. (also praise me, i didn't use the word tension once!! free me forever) xoxoxo

word count: 2,000?~

Mr. Zweig’s seventieth birthday gala was ostentatious to the point of parody. The ballroom of the Zweig family estate in Scarsdale glittered with the kind of extravagance that made people whisper the word dynasty under their breath, the chandeliers dripping with crystal and history.

The guest list was exclusive, filled with elite names by Patrick's mother, a descendant of the Rothschilds, and you, her de facto daughter in law— whose family's fortune was shrouded in mystery but rooted in generational wealth. Your great-great-grandfather, great-grandfather, and grandfather on both sides, were all born into privilege and riches.

As the night's events unfolded, you found yourself standing near the main table, holding a champagne flute in one hand while your date, a perfectly presentable finance bro, stood nearby, charming an elderly guest about his take on cryptocurrency and market trends.

True to form, Patrick arrived late. He had always despised these gatherings since you were children, rolling his eyes at his mother's insistence on upholding traditions. But he was here, all the same, his jaw tight, his bowtie undone in a deliberate nod to rebellion. It was the kind of disheveled charm that made people forgive him for being an ass.

And when his eyes landed on you—on your date—they darkened in a way that made you feel both victorious and a little nervous.

It wasn’t that you were intentionally trying to irritate Patrick. Well, maybe just a little bit, but you honestly hadn’t thought he’d attend. And this is what he deserved for not be available to escort you earlier.

Before you could even prepare, he was cutting through the crowd, murmuring clipped greetings to family friends until he reached you. “We need to talk,” he said quietly, making sure only you could hear him.

"Must we?" you countered, taking a slow sip of your champagne.

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth, his hand brushing your elbow in a way that wasn’t a suggestion but a command. “Now.”

Patrick all but dragged you through the twisting halls of his family’s mansion, your steps stumbling short. When he finally pulled you into his childhood bedroom, you couldn’t help but laugh. “God, this room. It’s like stepping into 2002.”

“Cut the crap,” he snapped, shutting the door behind him. His expression was stormy and his usual composure cracked wide open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I don’t know, Patrick,” you said with an exaggerated shrug, leaning casually against the edge of his old desk, the perfect picture of indifference. “Attending your father’s birthday party?”

He stepped closer, his jaw tight. “You know what I mean. Him. Bringing him here. Parading him around. Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

“Oh, relax,” you said, rolling your eyes. “He’s harmless. Besides, you wouldn’t have even shown up if your mother hadn’t threatened to cut you out of her will.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” you challenged, crossing your arms.

“The point is—” He stopped, visibly struggling for words. His pants were usually down around his ankles when you were alone together. This was unchartered territory. “I don’t think I can survive seeing you with someone else.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. You tilted your head, a wry smile playing at your lips. “Well, you haven’t burst into flames yet, so clearly you’re stronger than you think.”

“This isn’t a joke,” he admonished, taking a step closer. His eyes held something that made your heart lurch despite yourself. “I mean it. Seeing you with him, pretending like this—I can’t do it.”

“What do you think this is, Patrick?” you countered, your tone sharper now. “We’ve been playing games since we were kids. The only difference is that now, the stakes are higher.”

He shook his head, his expression tightening slightly. “I don’t want to play anymore. Not with you.”

His hands found yours, and for a moment, he just looked at you, searching your face for something—an answer, a reprieve, a reason to believe he wasn’t crazy and you were actually in love with him.

“You feel it. I feel it. Why can’t we just give this a go? I want to be your plus one, baby. I know I don't deserve you. I know I've hurt you, but I also know that what we have is real. It's messy and complicated and probably a little twisted, but it's ours. And I don't want to waste another second pretending otherwise."

You stared at him, your defenses crumbling as his words sank in. “How long will that last?” You hesitated, “How long can I expect you at the table, Pat? You always push me away, you’d rather brood and sulk than admit you actually care.”

“We both sulk,” his lips twitched with the ghost of a smile breaking through his frustration. “But I do care, I love you. More than is good for either of us. It’s been that way since we were kids, since before I even knew what love was. And I know I'll love you until the day I die, whether you choose me or not.”

“Well,” you said, your voice laced with a shaky laugh, “that’s a hell of a confession to make next to your poster of The Pussycat Dolls. Nicole Scherzinger would be disappointed to lose her place as number one in your heart.”

"Come here," Patrick rolled his eyes as he reached for your face with his large hands. You pursed your lips in annoyance and he leaned down to kiss them. There was a brief moment of stillness before his signature smirk returned. “I’m going to cum inside you and then we’ll go back out there and you can ignore that douche.”

“And they say romance is dead?” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Patrick's lips crashed against yours with a fevered intensity, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he walked you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the old bed.

The same bed where you had spent countless nights as unshapen youth whispering secrets and sharing dreams, where you had comforted each other through heartbreaks and celebrated each other's triumphs.

It was only fitting that this is where you would finally surrender to the inevitability of your love.

He lowered you down gently, the mattress dipping under your combined weight. His body covered yours, his hardness pressing against your stomach in a way that made you gasp into his mouth. His tongue swept inside, tangling with yours in a dance that was both familiar and exhilarating.

His hands roamed your body, skimming over the silky fabric of your dress before finding the zipper at the back.

You whined, giving him a look of warning. “Don’t tear it, this is Vintage! 1956 Balmain.”

“I won’t tear your ugly collectable,” Patrick sighed, tugging the zipper down more slowly than he would have without reproachment, his fingers brushing against your bare skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your own hands working to divest him of his tuxedo jacket and dress shirt. When you were both finally bare, skin against skin, a shiver of anticipation raced down your spine.

"I need you," he murmured against your mouth, his voice rough with desire. "I've always needed you."

He moved to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, your collarbone and then lower, his tongue swirling around your nipple before drawing it between his lips, sucking hard. You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on your breasts, alternating between gentle licks and sharp nips that had you writhing beneath him.

"Fuck, your tits are perfect," he said, squeezing them roughly in his large hands. "Spread your legs for me," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "Let me see that pretty pussy."

You obeyed without hesitation, parting your thighs and baring yourself to his hungry gaze. He groaned at the sight of your glistening folds, already slick with your arousal.

"You're dripping," he was in awe, his fingers ghosting over your slit. "Is this all for me? Are you this wet just from a few kisses from me?"

"Yes," you breathed, your hips canting up, seeking more of his touch. "It's all for you, Pat. Only for you."

"Always so ready for me," he murmured approvingly, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. "Such a good girl, getting this soaked just from me touching you."

You whimpered, your hips bucking up into his hand, seeking more friction. He obliged, slipping one long finger inside you, then two, stretching you open. He pumped them in and out, curling them just so, hitting that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

"Pat, please," you begged, not even sure what you were asking for, just knowing you needed more, needed all of him.

"Please what, baby?" he taunted, adding a third finger, the delicious burn making you clench around him.

"Fuck me," you moaned, your voice wrecked with desperation. "I need you inside me, right now."

Patrick grinned wickedly, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to his lips. He made a show of licking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. "You taste so fucking good. I could eat this sweet little cunt for hours."

Your core throbbed at his filthy words, a fresh gush of arousal coating your inner thighs. He noticed, of course he did, and chuckled darkly. "Later. Right now, I'm going to fuck you until you scream."

He positioned himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock nudging your opening. You held your breath, waiting for that first delicious stretch. But Patrick, ever the tease, just rubbed himself along your slit, coating his length in your slickness.

"Beg for it," he demanded, his voice rough with need. "Beg me to fill this tight little pussy."

"Please, Patrick," you whined, dignity be damned. "Please fuck me. I need your big cock splitting me open. I've been such a good girl, I deserve it." You weren't usually vulgar, but this was his love language.

"Fuck yes you do," he agreed, and with one powerful thrust, he was inside you to the hilt.

You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your walls fluttering around him as you adjusted to his girth. He gave you a moment, peppering kisses along your face and neck as he murmured praises into your skin.

"You take me so well, baby. This cunt was made for my cock, wasn't it? So fucking tight, squeezing me like you never want to let go."

"Never," you agreed breathlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist, urging him deeper. "I never want to let you go."

Something flashed in Patrick's eyes at your words, raw and real and achingly vulnerable. But then he was moving, withdrawing almost completely before slamming back in, and coherent thought became impossible.

He set a brutal pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that had the antique bed frame creaking in protest. You met him thrust for thrust, your hips rising to take him deeper, your nails raking down his back as you held on for dear life.

The room filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, of your needy whimpers and his guttural grunts. You could feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter at the base of your spine with each expert roll of his hips.

"Fuck, I'm close," Patrick panted, his rhythm growing erratic as his own release approached. "Cum with me, baby. I want to feel this greedy little cunt milking my cock."

With a keening cry, you shattered, your walls clamping down around him like a vice drawing out his own release.

With a hoarse shout of your name, Patrick came, spilling himself deep inside you, marking you from the inside out. His hips jerked through the aftershocks, until finally, he collapsed on top of you, spent.

For a long moment, you just held each other, chests heaving, hearts pounding. His weight on you was comforting, grounding. A physical reminder that this was real, that you weren't dreaming.

Finally, he lifted his head, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from your face. "So," he said, his voice still rough around the edges. "Think we can scandalize my family by skipping out on the rest of the party?"

You laughed, the sound bubbling up from your chest, light and carefree.