#1. has been stuck in my head for five days now and has shot to the top of my most played playlist

[cheery-space-lizz]

🎶✨️when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)🎶✨️

Tagged by @thatiwouldbe

1. The Ballad of Jane Doe - Emily Rohm, The Ride the Cyclone World Premiere Cast Recording Ensemble

2. for the girls - Hayley Kiyoko

3. YES - Ben & Tan

4. Put Your Records On - Corinne Bailey Rae

5. Take my Breath Away (Glee Cast Version) - Glee Cast

I'm only going to tag a few mutuals, 10 is a bit much :,> @bae-wulf @justlookatthosesausages @sparebutton @thespringsoldier @foxcantswim @danisdreaming

[hargreeves-duncan]

Hey! I saw that you’re taking tua requests and after season 4 I’m in desperate need of fluff fanfics. May I request a Five x Y/N where Y/N looks exactly like how Five envisions Delores but they haven’t met yet and right when Five and Lila were about to kiss in the greenhouse, Y/N appears with a gun because this two strangers invaded her greenhouse and Five would be utterly shocked and immediately let go of Lila and went to Y/N calling her Delores and she would say something like “I don’t know who Delores is but the two of you better start explaining what you’re doing in my greenhouse or I’ll bury a bullet in your skulls.” And after that it could be all fluff with a happy ending. Maybe Five takes her to meet his family when he finds a way back?

a/n: thank you for your lovely request! the idea of reader as a dolores variant is so sweet, i just had to write this! i hope you love it!!

summary: five mistakes you for dolores, you turn out to be quite the opposite

warnings: reader has a gun😟

word count: 2.4k

Trying to traverse this damn subway was driving Five insane. If he had been keeping track accurately, he and Lila had been stuck down here for seven years. For someone that had made it through forty years alone at the end of the world, you’d think that he’d be able to hack it, but a couple of key factors had changed since his first time around.

1. This time he wasn’t alone.

When he’d brought Lila down to the station, the thought of getting stuck there hadn’t even crossed his mind. Every other time Five had visited the subway, he’d made it home with no problems whatsoever.

It was typical that when he was accompanied by the one woman he’d never want to be around for a prolonged amount of time, that the universe would screw him over and trap them there.

He did have to admit, the more time that they had spent together, and the less likely getting home seemed, Lila had become tolerable. He might even go as far as to say he liked her now.

She was smarter than he’d given her credit for and painfully determined in working out their way home. Lila had always kept them both going, insisting that if they’d gotten there in the first place that there had to be a way out. Five wasn’t so sure anymore.

2. Dolores wasn’t here.

Whilst Five could pretend that if he stopped looking for a way out and settled down with Lila in a new timeline he would be happy enough, he knew that in reality, he wouldn’t be. There was no way that his friendship with Lila would ever measure up to the company of Dolores and the love he had for her.

She had been his everything for more of his life than not and his connection with her had truly meant something to him. Unlike whatever circunstancial friendship he had built with Lila.

For a long time, Five’s daily routine had revolved entirely around making sure that Dolores was cared for and making sure that they were always one step closer to finding a better way of life. Because he would be damned if his girlfriend had to live a life with anything but the very best.

This time, without the motivation of holding Dolores in his arms at the end of a long day, Five had found little reason to keep searching for a way to get home. He was beginning to lose all hope entirely as he and Lila had got off the subway for the fiftieth time that day.

As they stepped out into the sun, it became clear that of all the timelines they’d been to, this one was, without a doubt, the most peaceful. They were surrounded by woodland that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Somewhere above their heads Five could hear birds twittering. That was a good sign, this timeline was still habitable, many of the last ones hadn’t been.

Five walked out into forest. The trees there shot up almost 70 feet into the sky. It was breathtaking.

Somewhere along his stroll, Lila, had ended up off course, discovering the new world around them, “Wow.” She whispered to herself.

Five chuckled and raised an eyebrow as he walked towards her, “If you’re done here, there’s something much more interesting that we ought to take a look at.”

He pointed to the bottom of the hill that they stood on, where a small cottage sat. It looked as if it came from a fairytale, with its thatched roof and adjacent greenhouse, that housed all sorts of plants and flowers.

A small seed of doubt planted itself in his head the more he looked it over. It looked too nice. What if it was some sort of trap?

Lila clearly didn’t have the same trepidations. She gasped with excitement, then turned back to him, saying, “What’re you waiting for? Let’s go.”

As suspicious as he now was, he wasn’t strong enough to crush Lila’s hopeful expression. He hadn’t seen her look this spritely in weeks and if this didn’t end up being what they wanted he needed her to be okay to keep going. So, he followed her down the hill.

By the time he’d reached the bottom, Lila was already waiting, hands on her hips as she laughed at him, “Come on, old man, what is taking you so long? I want to explore this cottage before someone comes and tells me that I’m imagining it.”

She reached out, pulling on his arm impatiently and he couldn’t help but smile back at her. He supposed he could entertain this fantasy of normality for a while.

Lila grinned as she led them up the steps, peering in through the glass at the throng of shrubbery packed into the building. With a tug on the door, Lila led them into the greenhouse.

Five had to appreciate the organisation of it. One corner of it hosted a mix of plants and herbs, another held flowers, another for vegetables as well and even one for- “Strawberries!” Lila gasped, dropping his arm and rushing over to them.

In that moment, there couldn’t have been a better sight in the world than home-grown fruit. It’d been a painfully long time since they’d last eaten real food and Five suddenly felt starving.

He watched as Lila picked a strawberry, taking a bite. She groaned in pleasure, closing her eyes. Mouth still full, she beckoned him closer, “Five, come here, you have got to try these.”

Five obeyed, walking over to her. Lila took another enthusiastic bite, as she declared, “I think these might be the best things that I’ve ever eaten.”

Tossing the hull of the strawberry behind her, Lila reached for another. She smirked at Five, waving the strawberry in front of his lips tauntingly, “Open up.”

Five rolled his eyes, trying to repress the smile that was creeping onto his lips as he relented, opening his mouth. Lila pressed the strawberry to his lips and as he bit down…

Click.

Five froze, eyes snapping open. Lila spun around and her lips parted in shock as she took you in. There, you stood, shotgun cocked and pointed at the pair of them.

You were a sight for sore eyes, with your tousled hair around your shoulders and polka dot dress that fell effortlessly around your hips. Five was completely mesmerised.

Your soft hair, the polka dots that covered your dress, it was all so familiar to him. Your presence felt like a greeting from an old friend and he smiled lovingly at you as he said, “Dolores.”

Lila’s presence was entirely forgotten as you stood in front of him, just as beautiful as he’d remembered. Lila raised an eyebrow, asking, “You know her?” at the same time as you asked, “Dolores?!”

You looked them both in the eye, stepping closer and aiming the barrel of the gun at their heads, “I don’t know who Dolores is but the two of you better start explaining before I shoot you both.”

You had to admit, you were slightly intrigued by the appearance of the two of them. More specifically, the man in front of you. Even more so when he audibly laughed at your words.

You raised an eyebrow at him, smirking with amusement as you said, “You do realise that you’re trespassing, right? That I’m well within my rights to pull this trigger and put a bullet through both of your skulls?”

Five was still looking at you as if you’d hung the moon and the stars and not just threatened to shoot him.

Lila shoved her elbow into his chest and he groaned, clutching it, “Jesus… Lila!” He said, glaring at her.

“What?” Lila groaned, looking over at him with a huff, “She asked you a question.”

“Yes, thank you.” You said with a small nod as you watched her. She nodded back with a pleased smile, holding her hands behind her back.

You look back at Five, expectantly, gun still raised, “Well?”

He smiled saccharinely at you, being sure to emphasise his words as he said, “Me and my friend here just got a little lost, that’s all.”

“Hm… getting lost is what we’re calling breaking and entering now?” You challenge and your combative demeanour only made Five want to get to know you more.

He grinned, shrugging his shoulders innocently, “It would appear that way.” He said, making it impossible for you to ignore the cockiness in his tone.

You simply laughed at him, lowering your weapon slightly, “And Dolores?”

“She’s…” He paused, thinking it through. He couldn’t exactly say who Dolores really was, you’d think he was crazy and that was the last thing he wanted.

If he ignored the fact that you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, he could also tell that you were exactly the kind of woman he wanted to know and he was not going to mess up any chance he might have with you, “…my ex-girlfriend.”

That wasn’t entirely untrue, he thought to himself. Lila’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Slowly, a look of realisation spread across her face and she stifled her laughter as she asked, “Hold on, you don’t mean that manne-“

“Please, excuse my friend.” He hastily cut Lila off with an infuriated glare thrown in her direction.

“She has terrible conversational etiquette.” Five offered, smiling politely at you as if he hadn’t just completely shut Lila down, “I’m Five, and that over there is Lila.”

You nodded in return. Lila smiled but made no more attempts to initiate a conversation as she wandered off deeper into the green house.

Five, happy to have the chance to speak you alone, stepped closer, “It’s a nice place.” He said, putting his hands in his pockets.

You lowered your gun, slinging it over your shoulder and offering him a warmer smile, “Thanks, I think so too.”

You were funny. He felt himself grow more smitten with every word you said. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, raising an eyebrow at you, “What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t.” You answer, brushing off your skirt. His eyes followed your fingers as you did.

You walked by him to pick up a bag of compost and dropped it onto the countertop beside you. Five walked after you, placing a hand on the table in your eyeline, practically begging you to keep the conversation going.

The last time he’d gotten so quickly attached to a girl, he’d been with her for forty years and he was already thinking about what that might look like with you, “Are you going to tell me it?” He pushed, tilting his head to the side as he smiled at you.

You stopped breaking up the soil, laughing softly as you looked over your shoulder at him, “You know, you’re very interested in knowing about me for someone I just caught breaking into my house.”

“I thought we’d agreed that we were just lost? I can confidently say that there was no ill intent on my part.” He replies, smirking at you.

“Maybe not.” You say, smacking your palms against each other to dust them off, “But there is intent of some kind.” You bend down, pulling out an empty plant pot from below the counter.

“True…” Five hummed, tapping his finger on the counter as he watched you place the pot onto the table and begin to fill it with compost.

He looks around the room some more - noticing the lone chair and table in the observatory by the back door, “You live here alone?”

He asked, watching your nimble fingers form a well in the centre of the pot. He looked over his shoulder to where Lila was prodding a venus flytrap and then back to you for your answer.

“I do.” You reply as your fingers continue to press deeper into the soil. Five nodded, rolling his sleeves up and leaning them on the countertop with a sly smile.

You dust off your hands again and go back to kneeling on the floor. Five watches with interest as you sift through pots and packets of different flowers.

“Okay and why is that?” He asks, bending down beside you as you consider which flower to pot.

You look over at him and notice how his eyes lingers on the bright, yellow marigolds tucked away to the left. You take them out.

“Because…” You say, hauling the smaller pot onto the counter again, “I’ve never been much of a people person.”

“Hence why you live in the middle of the woods.” Five nods along, smiling to himself. He was beginning to get an idea of what kind of girl you were and he liked it.

“Exactly.” You nod, gently prying the marigolds from their original pot and settling them into the divet in their new one.

You scooped some compost into your hands, sprinkling the marigold with an extra layer of dirt, “That’s me, but what about you? What makes a guy like you take a wander in the woods?”

A guy like him? Five glanced down at himself, suddenly feeling very self-conscious of his dirtied appearance. He hadn’t looked in a mirror in a while but he couldn’t imagine that seven years without a shower had done him any good.

Then again, your arms were buried elbow deep in dirt right now, so he figured he couldn’t look that awful, “It’s a long story but… simply put, my friend and I are looking for a place to stay.”

“I see.” You hum, touching up the marigolds. You pull open a drawer, taking out some pruners and making tiny adjustments to the flowers.

Five appreciated the precision with which you worked on them, he imagined that you treated all of your plants with the same amount of time and care. He was beginning to feel a little jealous of them.

You tilted your head to the side as you looked back at him, “So, you just thought that you’d crash here?”

Five looked slightly embarrassed as he stood up straighter, searching for the right answer. Lila smiled, yelling from the other side of the room, “Yeah, pretty much. It’s a really nice place.”

You laugh at her bluntness, placing down your pruners and dusting off your hands again, “Good to know.”

Five chuckles and looks back down at the counter. Taking in the sight of the finished marigolds, sitting plump and pretty in their new home, he smiles, “They’re beautiful.”

“Consider them a welcome gift for the two of you.” You say, pushing the pot towards him. Then, you wink, walking past him and back into the house.

Five is rendered speechless.

[reiderwriter]

🎱 Trust In Me When I Say 🎱

Chapter Four of That's What You Get

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Female Reader

Summary: What happens in Vegas doesn't stay in Vegas, and now that you're back in Quantico, you and Spencer decide to seek some advice.

Warnings: none!

A/N: My laptop gave up on me tonight, so this one was typed out on my phone, just as the fanfiction gods intended. This one was fun to write, though, and I'm so excited for the next few chapters! Hope you enjoy it!

Check out the series masterlist and my general masterlist. Requests are closing in September for 1 month!

Spencer slept all the way back to Quantico, not once budging his hand from your leg or letting you know peace. You enjoyed the warmth of his hand between your legs, but masking your expressions after your original wake-up time was like working on a case all over again. 

You wished you could just curl up into his side and sleep again for another ten hours, still feeling the exhaustion of your night out. When the PA system pinged with an alert from the Pilot saying you were close to landing, you panicked slightly about how the hell you were going to get the man off of you. 

If you pushed his arm away, surely they'd see the movement under the blanket and think you had been doing something way less innocent than you had. If you just stood up and let his hand fall from your lap naturally, you'd be stuck awkwardly standing in your seat with nowhere to go. If you woke him up, there was no way of knowing how he would react. These thoughts chased each other around your brain the entire descent, while he slept on peacefully. 

Luckily, the landing seemed to wake him up naturally. Without a chance for second thoughts, you grabbed and squeezed his hand under the blanket, pushing it so it wouldn't move too much as he rose from his slumber. 

"Well, good morning, Spence," JJ laughed as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

"Looks like someone had a long, sleepless night. What was it? Got drunk and did some math for fun?" Emily teased. Your heart was jumping out of your chest now, praying that he wouldn't make any sudden movements and would realise the situation he'd gotten himself into. 

"Yeah, I guess it was a long one," he yawned out, finally moving to stretch his arms a bit when he realised the position they were in. He made a small jolt, the kind that you'd only know was a reaction if you were looking for it, and luckily, you didn't think either woman were. 

He turned his head to you, tracing his glance down his own arm, down to your lap, and pulling it back up to your face before sending you a questioning glance. He gently turned his hand over so it was facing palm up, and you held it in yours for a second. He squeezed it as if to ask what was going on but you shot him a look that said "don't ask," and thankfully he was able to understand you. 

"Hey, Y/N. How's your head today?" he asked, initiating the conversation so that your prolonged eye contact wouldn't be seen as suspicious. 

"Pounding. Uncomfortably. What the hell did I drink last night?" You let go of his hand now and bought the leg that he had been gripping desperately in his sleep up now, crossing it over the other. The movement was large enough to mask his hand, pulling away, and luckily, he did just that, taking the chance you gave him. 

"Three tequila shots, five high balls, six Long Island Ice Tea's, an ill-advised Jello shot from a promoter on the street and… And after that your guess is as good as mine." You rolled your eyes at him. 

"Listen up, team, the Director has taken into account the hard work we've put in this last month and granted us some special leave. You're free for the next four days unless there's something urgent." Hotch announced from the front of the jet, letting you escape the eavesdropped conversation. 

You hung back as everyone exited the jet, still trapped into your seat by Spencer, who was taking his time moving and grabbing his stuff. 

"You two coming?" Rossi looked back at you, the last of the team to exit before you. 

"Yeah, if wonder boy ever gets his move on. We'll be right down," you answer for the two of you. Rossi nods and doesn't ask any follow-up questions, leaving the two of you alone on the jet. 

"What the hell was that?" You whisper-yell at him quickly, somehow still afraid of being overheard. 

"I'm sorry it wasn't intentional! How long was my hand…. down there?" You could see him blush as he asked, and you had to hold back a laugh, entertained by his meek reaction. 

"Practically the entire time you were asleep, Reid. God, I know we've grown closer in the last twenty-four hours, but you don't need to be attached to me physically, you know?" 

"It was an accident, I swear!" he moved away from the seat now, his hands coming up in a surrendered position. "Why didn't you push my hand off, we were under the quilt. They probably wouldn't have noticed."

"Because I remembered a certain somebody blabs in their sleep if they're moved or disturbed, and I didn't want to explain why you were saying my name in your sleep."

"Oh, you think I'd say your name, Y/N? Do you think I was dreaming about you?" he questions you, suddenly growing in the space, standing a little bit taller, more confidently. 

"Yeah, I just– I just assumed you were… YouYou had that vice grip on my thigh and…" you tried not to stutter, sending a stressed hand through your tousled hair. You had just assumed that his dreams had been similar to yours. That he'd wantes you so badly that, even in his sleeping state, he'd reached out for you unconsciously. 

"Y/N, if I was dreaming about you, I wouldn't be mumbling your name in my sleep," he said, matter-of-factly, grabbing his bags and making his way to the exit. You stood silently waiting for him to continue. 

"I'd probably call out for my good little girl instead," he smirked and quickly left before you had a chance to hurl the blanket in your hands at his head. 

–X– 

You quickly followed him down the steps after that and joined the rest of the team back at the bullpen to collect your things. Rossi and Hotch had retreated to their respective offices by the time you reached your desk, never ones for letting paid leave get in the way of them doing their jobs. Penelope had also practically sprinted back to her tech cave, and you could hear her cooing sounds as she checked in on her system. 

"Well, I, for one, am heading out." JJ spoke confidently, grabbing her car keys and making her way to the elevators. 

"I'm right there with you, blondie," Derek said, stretching out his arms. "Four days off does not sound bad right about now." 

"Are you coming, Y/L/N? Reid?" Emily asked, making her way to the elevator ahead of you. 

"I'm gonna finish up a case file so I don't have to worry about it when we get back," Spencer replied. 

"I'm gonna check up on Penelope before we leave, see if she needs a ride." She shrugs but doesn't question the two of you, and you wave them all off to the elevator. 

Once the doors are fully shut, you're left alone with Reid in the lobby. Putting his earlier teasing aside, you turn to him with a serious expression. 

"What do we do now? Surely we have to tell Hotch, right?" you ask, finally acknowledging your marriage outside of Vegas. 

"I don't know, I don't particularly want that lecture." 

"Yeah, he kind of just has a way of staring at you that makes you disappointed in yourself." You shudder at the thought.

"We have to start somewhere, though, right? And it's not like Hotch was one of our witnesses. He'd have sooner arrested us than let us do that." You mutter to yourself.

"What about Rossi?" Spencer poses the question to you, and you look directly up at him for a second. He has that look on his face that he gets on cases where his eyes glaze over, and you can see he's remembering important information that could be relevant.

"Rossi's third marriage was a Vegas marriage, and they separated pretty quickly. It might be useful to go to him first. At least we'll get no judgement." He looked up at you when he finished, his eyes soft with a hopeful look, desperate to see if he'd made a helpful suggestion.

"Yeah. Okay, let's go ask Rossi."

You made your way up the stairs quietly, doing your best to act natural. Luckily, Hotch's blinds were drawn, and he seemed deep in paperwork, so he didn't notice your unusual path.

Spencer led the charge and knocked on the office door quickly twice before opening it.

"Spencer, Y/N, I thought Aaron was clear when he said we had time off now. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He looked up at the two of you from his desk,and you awkwardly glanced at each other before turning back to him, unable to find the right words to say.

"That bad, huh?" He laughed up at you from his desk but still waited for you to talk.

You took the plunge first.

"We fucked up and we need your help,"  you blurted out quickly, unable to stop the rambling when it took hold. Rossi only raised a single eyebrow at you in question, so you powered on.

"We got super drunk last night and ended up at the marriage licence bureau and now we're legally married and we need your advice because this happened to you before, too, and we thought it might be helpful to ask you for your opinion on what we should do next." You hardly took a breath throughout,only cutting yourself off when Spencer grabbed your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Well, I'll be damned," Rossi pushed himself back in his seat, looking upon the two of you with fresh eyes.

"I guess celebrations are in order, correct?" He chuckled as you squirmed under his stare.

"We just wanted to know what the best way to go about this is. Should we register the marriage with the bureau, let Hotchner know, that kind of thing?" Spencer managed to ask, his fingers entwined with yours and his thumb drawing small circles on the back of your hand. 

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised," was all Rossi offered from his desk, and you snapped your eyes back to his. "But I don't know what advice I can really offer you right now that doesn't come straight from the FBI Handbook, and I'm sure you have that memorised, right, kid?" 

"All interpersonal relationships must be reported to your direct supervisor or team leader. Failure to do so could lead to termination or suspension if it is deemed to negatively affect your work," Spencer approximated the official guidelines.

"Here's what I will say. Take some time with it, but only a week, tops. If your problem goes away in that time, perfect, nothing to worry about. If it doesn't, tell Aaron at least." 

"So tell Hotchner in a week that we're getting a divorce, great, thanks," you tried your best not to sarcastic but you were tired and you were stressed and the words had a mind of their own.

"Hey, what was that thing you said to me a while back, kid? You never know when you're going to get the chance to experience new things at your age?" He smirked up at Spencer, happy enough that he got to feed him that line back from the case you'd worked in Atlantic City.

"Give it a week and tell Aaron. I don't care what you tell him, but only a week, okay? Because if you don't, I will. I don't particularly want to acclimatise to your replacements when you're fired for not disclosing this."

You nodded your goodbyes to the man and swiftly exited his office, making your way back down to the bullpen.

"I think Rossi's right. We should wait and tell Hotchner after we've got this annulment thing finished. And we still have to figure out who our two witnesses are." You let out the sigh as you turned to face Spencer, quietly engaging him in conversation. 

"Yeah, that sounds good. How about you meet me at my place tomorrow and we can talk about details and get the ball rolling?" he asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes. "Maybe we could see if we can jog our memories a bit as well, I have a few books on memory loss that I've been meaning to read recently, I'll get through them tonight and maybe they'll have some tips to help us figure out what happened." 

"Yeah, yeah, perfect. It's a date!" The words left your mouth before you could stop them, and you had to stop yourself from instantly clapping a hand over your own mouth in surprise.

"Like an appointment, something scheduled, not like a… not like a date-date. You know what I mean." He laughed at you a little before looking side to side, checking if anyone was in the vicinity. When he saw that there was no one around, he stepped closer to you, closing the gap between the two of you, and placed a small soft kiss to your temple before moving away quickly.

"It's a date. I'll send you my address later, but for now, you should go check on Garcia. Keep up our cover story, right?" He began walking backwards to the elevator  having grabbed his bag while you were stood mouth slack in surprise. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'll go do just that. Bye."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Reid," he said, stepping into the elevator, the doors closing before you had a chance to chastise him. 

You stood there for a solid two minutes, just staring at the place the man had been, desperately willing your heart to go back to beating at a respectable rate. When it didn't, you knew you were in trouble.

Turning on your heel, you ran down the hall as inconspicuously as possible before throwing the door to Penelope Garvia's office wide open. 

"Penelope, I fucked up and I need your advice." 

🏷 @w-windy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @bluecandycake @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @daddy-dotcom @zaapsite @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @kat453 @ferrjulie @kapeyama @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @sharkcat1928 @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @alyssaxstan @ghostheartbeat @zada-quinn @beguiling3lavender @Casss2111 @zatannas-wand @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @kspencer34

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[lustfulslxt]

Heyy hope your day going good I have a request for a Matt fic based on their recent pod they did with there parents basically when they were talking about how Matt was on the hockey team and he would get mad a lot maybe he has a game or something and loses it and he takes it out on his gf? Hope that makes sense

Take It Out - Matt Sturniolo

warnings : roughhhh sex

—

It’s around 6:30 and I’m already running late. Matt’s hockey game started ten minutes ago and I’m not even on my way to the rink yet. I know Matt’s probably upset about it, because I’m upset about it. However, I got stuck at work, and now I’m on my way home to pick up a gift bag I have for him.

We’ve been talking about this specific game for weeks now. They’re facing their rivals and Matt’s been practicing so incredibly hard. I know how important it is for me to be there for him, cheering for him.

I pull into my driveway and run inside, quickly gathering everything I need before running back out to my car. I toss it on the passenger seat, swiftly reversing and semi speeding to my destination. My nerves are on ten, I just want to get there to support my baby.

Upon pulling up to the rink, I hurriedly exit, leaving his gift bag in the seat and running inside. Once I give my ticket to the booth and they let me in, I swiftly make my way to the front, sitting in my reserved seat.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! Ugh, Matt is gonna kill me.” I exclaim, my face ridden with guilt.

“It’s okay, it was a late start anyways.” Marylou reassures me.

“Yeah, but he’s still upset. You can see it in the way he’s playing.” Nick says, making me frown.

He’s right, Matt’s game is off tonight. I can feel my stomach tighten at the thought of it being my fault. Sure, it’s just a game, but I know how much it means to Matt. I continue watching the game unfold in front of me, my leg anxiously bouncing with every passing minute.

The score’s 1-5, Matt’s team unfortunately down. I can visually see the frustration in him, he’s been extremely aggressive. He’s already been put in the penalty box several times this game, having been too rough.

Suddenly, Matt is checked by someone from the opposing team, crashing into him and resulting in a violent collision. I can practically see the steam coming from his ears. He jumps up and flings his gloves off, shoving the other guy into the wall, and throwing a punch at his face. A gasp leaves my mouth at the scene in front of me, my hands crossing at my chin.

“Jesus, Matt!” Nick shouts, tossing his arms up.

The two are quickly pulled apart and he’s once again sent to the penalty box. They’ve only got five minutes left on the clock, so it’s crucial that he’s on the ice to help his team. I watch as he anxiously paces back and forth, occasionally screaming through the glass as he watches the game play out in front of him. He then looks over in my direction, our eyes locking momentarily. I shoot him a smile, which he doesn’t return, and rolls his neck, something he does when he’s aggravated.

“God, he hates me.” I mumble, frowning once again.

“He doesn’t hate you. He just hates tonight.” Nick clarifies, reassuringly patting my knee.

I take a deep breath and nod, wishing the words to be true. I know he doesn’t actually hate me, but I would be surprised if he weren’t ridiculously upset with me right now. Though his feelings would be valid, it would still hurt. It’s not like I planned to be late, life just happens.

Once Matt’s two minutes were up, he quickly skated out, heading straight for the puck. Even if he were to make this shot, his team would still lose. They’re just too far behind to make it up in three minutes. As he chased after the puck, swiftly swiping it from his opponents, he began racing towards the opposite end of the rink, heading towards their goal. He swings his stick, hitting the puck and sending it flying into the goal. He turns around and throws his arms up, cheering. I can see the smile through his helmet. However, it quickly vanishes when he looks at the scoreboard and sees they’re still 6 points behind, just as the final buzzer goes off.

They lost.

I sigh, already knowing how the night’s going to go. As the teams exit the rink, I stand up, bidding goodbye to Nick and Marylou, and make my way towards the locker room, waiting for Matt to come out. Around ten minutes go by before he walks out the door. He looks at me, rolling his eyes, and continues walking towards the building’s exit.

“Seriously, Matt?” I toss my hands up, following after him.

He doesn’t say anything and just makes his way towards my car. Once we reach it, he tries to open the passenger door, but doesn’t succeed as it’s locked. He sighs loudly, rolling his eyes once again as he impatiently shuffles on his feet. I hit the unlock button and he opens the door, only to be met with his gift bag. He looks at it, then up at me, then back at it.

Without a word, he puts it in the backseat with his duffel bag, taking his place up front. I can’t help the deep frown that tugs on my lips. I knew he was going to be upset, but he doesn’t have to be a jerk. I silently start the car, waiting a minute for it to warm up, then pull out of the parking lot, heading for my house.

It’s tradition. After every game, he comes to my house and we spend the night together. Win or lose, it’s never been different. Though he’s never been this upset with me before, and I don’t even want to ask him if he’d rather go home. It could be selfish of me to want him to spend his time with me when he’s clearly mad at me, but I also want us to work through it.

It doesn’t take long to get to my house, and he’s getting out without a word, and grabbing his bag before making his way inside. Noticing he left the gift bag in the car, my frown deepens. I don’t understand why he’s being so mean. With a sigh, I retrieve the bag and follow him inside. Upon making my way into the living room, I notice him setting his bag against the wall.

“Matt, seriously! What the fuck is your problem?” I ask, finally giving in.

“My problem?” He asks, bewilderment taking over his face. “What’s your problem? You were supposed to be there.”

“I was there!” I exclaim.

He dryly chuckles, “Yeah, late.”

“But I still showed up! I’m sorry that I got held up at work, but I still showed up. Yes, I was late, but I still showed up. When have I ever not been there, Matthew?” I snap, already feeling frustrated with the audacity of him.

“You promised.” He mutters, his voice angry with a hint of sadness. “You were supposed to be there for the whole thing, and you weren’t.”

“I’m sorry, okay? But it wasn’t my fault! It’s not like I intentionally decided to come late.” I yell, before tossing the gift bag at him. “Here’s your gift, even though you’re far from deserving of it right now.”

I don’t spare him another glance, and I don’t wait for a response, I simply walk up the stairs, already ready for bed. I can’t believe him. He’s being ridiculous. Before I can even make it into my bedroom, I’m yanked back.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Matt says from behind me, his voice low.

With that, I’m spun around and his lips are slamming into mine, kissing me fast and hard. One of his hands holds onto the back of my head, the other one gripping my ass and pulling me closer to him. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, exploring every inch of it as I moan into his. I hate how easily he affects me, I’m always at my knees for him.

He pulls away from the kiss, quickly pulling my shirt off and attacking my neck with wet kisses. His teeth graze over my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He backs away once again, frantically removing his shirt. He yanks me back into him, smashing his lips on mine once more.

Our lips are working together, teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance, hands touching any and everywhere. His hands then reach my jeans, swiftly unbuckling them and tugging them down. To assist him, I kick them off of my feet. His hands then reach into the waistband of my underwear, pulling them down just as quickly. Once they’re discarded, he pulls his sweats off, leaving him in his boxers. I can see his hard on pressing against the fabric, constricted against it.

His lips are on mine again, his hand reaching in between my legs, feeling my bare heat. With a simple brush of his fingers, they’re now coated in my juices.

He pulls away and groans at the sight, “I knew you loved this shit. Such a whore.”

I can’t help but moan in response, him now rubbing my bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure through my body. His other hand massages my boobs, squeezing and tweaking my nipples. His fingers move from my clit, down to my entrance, pumping into me. The pace is slow and steady for only a split second, before his fingers are thrusting into me, fast and hard. My legs almost give out, so he wraps his arm around my waist, holding me up as he finger fucks me.

“Fuck, Matty.” I moan out, my face contorting in pleasure as the knot in my stomach grows tighter.

“Look at you, you’re eating this up.” He groans into my ear, “You love it when daddy’s rough with you, don’t you?”

I can only moan in return as he curls his fingers so perfectly. Unhappy with my response, he halts his movement inside of me, and his hand holding me up grips my jaw as he moves his face in front of mine.

His lips slightly ghosting over my own, he says, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, yes. I love it so much.” I admit, lewd moans emitting from my mouth.

“That’s my girl.” He grins, continuing to pump in and out of me.

With a few more thrusts, I feel myself lose it, giving into the pressure in my stomach. A loud moan falls from my lips as I let go, squirting all over his hand as he fucks his fingers into me. My breath hitches in my throat, feeling utter euphoria coursing in my veins.

As soon as he removes his fingers, he has both of my legs wrapped around his waist, leaving me to hold onto the railing behind me, my elbows resting on it. Without a word, he’s shoving his cock into me. A loud yelp escapes my mouth, and a guttural moan from his. Off the rip, his pace is fast, fucking into me so deliciously and hard. My boobs are bouncing from the force and I can’t help my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

“F-feels so good, daddy.” I moan out, my breathing erratic.

“Mhm. Such a good little slut.” He groans out, his thrusts increasing in speed and strength.

The knot in my stomach returns, pleasure building up very quickly. I force myself to keep my eyes open just to take in Matt’s appearance. His brows are furrowed and his bottom lip is tucked in his mouth. His torso is glistening with sweat, whilst his hair slightly sways with every movement, aside from the pieces sticking to his forehead. His cheeks are flushed a rosy color, and his eyes are dark with lust.

Just the sight of him was enough to push me over the edge as I let go for the second time tonight. Pornographic moans leave my mouth as I tighten around him, feeling him pulsating inside of me. Me clenching around him caused him to shudder, immediately releasing his nut into me, fucking us both through our orgasms.

“Fuck, so good to me, baby.” He moans out, his thrusts coming to a stop.

Both of us are breathless, panting together as he pulls out of me, slowly letting me down, but still holding onto me, so that I don’t drop.

“That was-“

“I’m sorry.” He cuts me off, pulling me flush against him. “My team was shit tonight and I took it out on you when you did nothing wrong. Thank you for coming to support me, I love you so much.”

I smile, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll always be there for you, Matty. I love you so much.”

He gently kisses me on the lips, soft and slow, savoring the moment. He then picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, running in the direction of the bathroom.

“Come on. We need to shower.” He laughs, making me laugh in return as he’s not wrong.

—

a/n : so sorry this is so short!!! i hope it does the trick tho :( pls enjoy fr, send in more <3333

[somestorythoughts]

Eldritch Echo Pt 5

So I have no idea what the canon timeline is, but I'm gonna say that for this there was at most 6 months between the Citadel and Echo's rescue, possibly less, and those months have been absurdly busy for the 501st. There was a week tops between Rex holding Fives in his arms when he died and then holding Echo as he pulled him out of the tank, so poor Rex was having Domino-based emotional whiplash that week. When this fic starts, Echo has been with the Bad Batch about a month and a half. They're friends and they trust each other, partly because since Echo recovered very quickly most of this time has been spent on missions with them and that's bonding time, but 1, they aren't as close as they one day could be, and 2, while Echo's mostly accepted that this is his new body in other ways he's still getting used to it. So they're all still working things out.

Now onwards!

‘Fives has one to match.’

It sticks in Crosshair’s mind after Echo leaves. “Tech? Remember when we brought Echo to the medbay after rescuing him?”

“Yes.”

“That medic. After we all thought Echo was asleep he asked Captain Rex if he wanted him to tell Echo about Fives or if he wanted to do it himself. What was it Echo said then?”

Tech frowned. He remembers that, remembers working with the medic on Echo’s prosthetics and hearing Echo mumble names and binaries in his sleep. “It was something about Fives, and walls – Fives is busy in the walls.”

“Fives is busy in the walls.” Echo had said, clearly only mostly asleep, and both CMO Kix and Captain Rex had turned around so fast they must have gotten whiplash.

“He didn’t say Fives was dead just now.” Crosshair realized. “He said Rex told him Fives was dead. And given how he and the medic looked before Echo spoke, I bet they believed that. But if Echo was left behind after an explosion that could have killed him, could something similar have happened to Fives?”

“And if it did, does that mean Fives is the same kind of trooper as Echo?” Tech added. “I do not believe Echo’s oddities were designed by the Kaminoans, I have found no references in their files of any experiments with the Regs that look like they could have caused this. Either it was something Echo hid, or the cause originated from something that he encountered after Kamino.”

“Find out how Fives died. I’ll see if I can find a question he’ll give a straight answer to.” Crosshair snarled.

“Fives was shot in the chest by Commander Fox.”

Both troopers jumped. No one was in sight, but Echo’s shadow loomed on the wall, Torrent-blue eyes dull against the metal. Echo’s voice continued from somewhere above their heads. “And if we’re ever on Coruscant, I’m gonna have a little chat with him about shooting my twin. Now if you don’t mind, I’m trying to sleep. Stop talking.”

Crosshair flips off the shadow on the wall with both hands. It grins with silver needle teeth and sinks into the wall. “Night Tech. I’ll wake you up for the next watch.”

“Very well.” Tech agrees. But, much like Echo’s earlier choice words had stuck in Crosshair’s head, the word ‘twin’ won’t leave Tech’s mind. He searches the term before he goes to bed, and only leaves his datapad when Crosshair glares at him.

Twin. Forming or being one of a pair born at birth. He knows this. But the clones are decanted in huge batches, hundreds in a day, and there’s always only one trooper per tube. Either each decanting is one multiple birth or none of them are. Either each batch is all twins – or whatever the word would be for hundreds of brothers born at once – or none of them are.

So why did Echo call Fives his twin?

And then, just before Tech finally drifts off to sleep, he realizes that this isn’t the first time he’s heard of troopers calling each other twin. There had been a pair of troopers who did that in the 41st Elite Corps, under General Unduli. They had painted their armor to be mirror images of each other and had been friendly to the Batch. And when Wrecker had complimented their armor, one of them had laughed and said it was a good reflection of their eyes and each had taken off their helmets to demonstrate.

Heterochromia, when the eyes were two different colors. They each had a blue eye and a brown eye, and much like their armor, their eyes mirrored each other. What had been their names? Ah yes, Cobalt and Cerulean.

He falls asleep trying to remember if they had been like Echo in any way.

The next day, he learns they’ve been given a mission to rescue some shinies attached to the 41st, and decides it’s a chance to find out.

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 13

welcome the the tenth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. i was always yours (even before you knew it) by paladarns

Lance thought Keith was just an asshole. Lance has always thought of Keith as an asshole, all throughout traveling into space in a large mechanical lion, all throughout bonding moments. All throughout becoming closer as teammates and friends.

Even now, with his hands pinned above his head and Keith’s thighs straddling his waist, Lance thinks Keith is an asshole.

Lance had always thought he could see right through people, but now he’s starting to think he has a bad judgement of people.

---------- a fic in which keith is obvious and lance is a bit of a gay nervous wreck

takes place as if season 1 is the only season to exist but its now years later

so many things to love about this fic. so so many. so i am going to list them. a) secret relationship bc i love that shit and eat it up every time, b) ‘takes place as if season 1 is the only season to exist but its now years later’ -- paladarns my love thank you for this truly excellent description of where i write my fics like 80% of the time. c) keith has game, and d)  HE WAS ALWAYS KEITHS EVEN BEFORE HE KNEW IT IM SOBBING BEST TROPE BEST TROPE

2. Wake Up, Sleephyhead! by @transbakugou

Keith has never loved someone like he loves Lance. Lance is his sun, his stars, his happiness. Their hands fit together like they were created to do nothing but hold each other, and he fits perfectly inside of Lance's arms. But he can never let anyone find out how much he loves this boy, how wholly and endlessly. Who knows what the Galra would do with that kind of information?

One morning, the lie comes crashing down around them.

Maybe it won't be as bad as they feared.

i love gay whipped klance and truly every single fic that has ever been written based on a vine is truly amazing, this fic is no exception. also secret relationship lol i am a sucker

3. Something Secret by @kingswriting

It was funny at first. Their arguments became more banter than actual disagreements, yet the entire team continued to assume they were at each other’s throats.

And Lance knows they’re not. He is fully aware that every sharp word, every sly smirk, every heavy handed push, and everything in between is anything but malicious.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss the softer side of things.

Or, Lance and Keith are in a secret relationship, but honestly want to omit the 'secret' part.

okay u can always tell what tag im following obsessively at certain times lol. for yall i present yet another secret relationship fic. ahem. this one is cute! banter and flirting and misleading and kisses and GOD its so sweet

4. Things Held Sacred by yarrie

So maybe, just maybe, Pidge was right. Maybe, just maybe, Keith had shot himself in the foot with his first attempt at resolving the blanket-hogging situation, because now Lance seemed to think it was a game and the rules were: steal the blankets, get sex.

To be fair, Keith hadn't exactly been...dissuading him very well.

okay so heres how this works. every fic rec friday so far has been from a specific collection of mine called ‘rereadables’, which was literally started because of this fic. i dont even know what specific part of this fic gets to me so hard, but you know when you read something that makes your stomach go all swoopy? and you can’t stop smiling? thats this fic! i remember i finished it for the first time and then i scrolled right back up to the top and read it again, then again, and again. like i cannot get over this fic. it gives me butterflies every time

5. Communication is key, they say by @ellana17

They already had communication issues before… Or: a malfunction with a healing pod leaves Lance able to speak only Spanish for a few days.

the idea of lance getting stuck in spanish and then almost immediately using that to flirt with keith without him knowing. like. i love that SO much that is quite possibly one of the funniest concepts to exist

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[redjademilktea]

Hello hello! This idea for an Imodna fic has been sitting in my head for *ages* now. I'm gonna be working on this first chapter later tonight, but I'm just kind of excited to share before I polish this thing up and post Chapter 1 to AO3!! It's a modern AU, set in Exandria. Imogen is a Ph.D. in Sociology at Dayal Hall University in Jrusar. And Laudna... well, let's just say this is an exes-to-lovers type of deal. Recent canon angst compels me I suppose. Anyway, please enjoy the snippet!

----

Imogen pinched the bridge of her nose between her eyes. She’d been staring at this damn screen all day and it was starting to strain her vision. Normally, she’d be arms deep in grading assignments, wrapping up last minute lecture notes, finishing up office hours, literally anything else other than staring at her now empty email inbox. An impressive feat no doubt, Imogen idly noted. She can’t remember the last time it had even stayed this clear. A testament to her sheer boredom in the moment.

When she glanced back again and her still empty inbox, she thudded her head against her desk. The confirmation email should have been sent hours ago. She should be already back in her apartment, well into packing for her research trip to the Heartmoor by now. But instead she remained stuck in her office at Dayal Hall University. Patiently – very patiently – awaiting the confirmation email from the assistant archivist from the Heartmoor Hamlet Folklore, Oddities, and Curiosities Museum to finally confirm her appointment time so she could forward it to her chair the Sociology department admin staff to confirm the start of her sabbatical.

She let out a pained groan as the page she had refreshed for the twentieth time in five minutes remained unchanged. Defeated, she glanced around her office, tapping a pen to her desk as she did so. In the left side of the office, the low coffee table surrounded by assorted seating and a lone bean bag laid undisturbed in the corner. The bright yellow rug and strategically placed lighting provided a warmth to help combat the harsh fluorescent lights above. While normally reserved for students during her office hours, her pending sabbatical rendered them empty for the time being.

Huffing out a sigh, her gaze shifted to the right side of her office. Large bookshelves filled with monographs across disciplines lined the shelves, though most of the titles remained firmly within the realm of sociology. Imogen passively noted the growing number of office plants that seemed to be appearing without her knowledge. At least one or two had made their way from the tops to the actual shelves themselves, obfuscating the books behind them as their sprawling leaves spilled over their potted houses.

On top of one of the lower bookshelves sat a framed diploma, reading:

Starpoint Conservatory

Department of Sociology confers onto

Imogen Temult

The degree of Doctorate in Philosophy

Below the ornate frame next to yet another potted plant Imogen did not remember acquiring sat several framed photos. While the majority of them were from her time at Dayal Hall – a mix of faculty photos, candid shots of university sponsored outings, and conference shots – one in particular pulled her drifting thoughts.

In the photo, a recently graduated Imogen stood, awkward smile and stiff posture unaided by the weight of various leis and her doctoral regalia, next to a woman with braided hair flowing over the shoulder of her tan blazer. The woman bore a striking resemblance to Imogen, but tired, sunken eyes belied her wary demeanor. It was the first time she’d seen her mother in over a decade. And it was the last time she’d seen her since.

Imogen wondered, then, what her mother – the renowned anthropologist Dr. Liliana Temult from the Aydinlan Seminary in Yios – thought of her career. Her mother’s focus on her career and work had driven a wedge in her family relationship to be sure. It was part of the reason Imogen chose a smaller university to establish her academic career in the first place. One of the only things her mother had ever really said to her on the rare occasion they spoke over the phone was to stay away from the academy and the rigor of it all. Ruefully, she was reminded of the sorry state of their relationship now, all communication conducted over formal channels, sent from Liliana’s university email.

Next to the frame sat a small, stuffed white horse. Imogen’s melted into a short-lived fondness over the plush before the edges of a well-trodden sadness began to seep in. She told herself she kept the plush to make her office feel more welcoming and homely. That her students could feel more at ease knowing she wasn’t just some hardass professor and that they could trust her.

But the unspoken truth remained. The horse – Flora, after her childhood horse in Gelvaan – remained there because of what it reminded her of. Of who it reminded her of. Being gifted the small plush was, of course, the last time she ever saw L-

A knock at the door shook her from her spiraling thoughts. Imogen shook her head slightly, as if to clear the lingering fraught emotions from her mind.

Imogen cleared her throat, “Door’s unlocked.”

At that, the door opened, the familiar gentle and deliberate turn of the handle bringing a small smile to her face. The door further opened as Orym made his way into her office. In his hand, a stack of books reaching well past his head was delicately balanced as he gracefully moved towards her desk.

“Got the books you wanted,” Orym said, placing the stack down with surprising ease.

“You didn’t have to bring ‘em all at once,” Imogen said, smirking

“I know. But I didn’t know how much longer you’d be here.”

“I’ll be here all night if I don’t get this damn confirmation email,” Imogen huffed, slinking down her office chair.

“They still haven’t gotten back to you?” Orym raised an eyebrow.

“No. Been starin’ at my inbox all day waitin’ for it. Thanks for these by the way,” Imogen tilted her head towards the tall stack of texts. She grabbed the book at the top and began thumbing through it. The cover read Home Under the Moonlight: Werewolves and the Queer Imaginary in the Gloomed Jungles.

“Any time,” Orym nodded. “And they probably just need a few hours. Sounds like a small operation.”

“Yeah,” Imogen sighed. “And this small operation is makin’ me regret my career choices with every damn minute they don’t send that confirmation.”

“Ooh I’m hearing something about regretting career choices.” Imogen looked up to watch as Fearne casually strolled into her office, moving around Orym to place the potted plant in her hands onto another shelf. “I hear so many professors say that. I think it must mean I’m pretty good at it since I don’t regret anything.”

“Pretty good at what, Fearne?” Imogen asked flatly, finally understanding the source of the growing garden that was supposed to be her office.

“At professoring,” Fearne wiggled her eyebrows.

Truth be told, Imogen never did figure out what department Fearne worked in, let alone if she was even faculty at all. Imogen had only just recently accepted her position at Dayal Hall when Fearne wandered in on her setting up her new office, vaguely alluding to some “professorly obligation” to introduce herself to “the hot new hire in the Soc department.” Despite the odd introduction, Imogen had been grateful to not have to start out so alone. Not after… everything. And Fearne and her became close quickly. Fearne helped Imogen get acquainted with Orym, the university’s head librarian, and the two have been indispensable to Imogen ever since.

Imogen eyed the new foliage adorning her bookshelf before looking at Orym, who simply shared a slightly bemused look with her. “Fearne, what are you do-,” Imogen started before realizing the futility of the question and changing course. “I’m gonna be on sabbatical, Fearne. I won’t be- I can’t take care of these plants if I’m not here.”

“Oh it’s okay,” Fearne said, reassuringly. “I have a key to your office. Me and Orym can take turns plant sitting while you’re gone.” Fearne produced a key from her pocket, waving it at Imogen before slipping it back.

“How did- Fearne. You can’t have a copy of my office k-”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. Geeze louise. Professors share keys all the time. It’s part of the pact.”

Imogen struggled to string together a response before a flash on her computer monitor caught her eye. Hurriedly, Imogen rushed to open the newly received email.

Hello Dr. Temult!

I’m so sorry for the delay! I had a few visitor sentiment surveys that demanded my attention!

Anyway, I am writing to confirm your appointment for next Grisson afternoon at 3 P.M. Look for me at the front desk!

Thank you,

Prism Grimpoppy

Ph.D. Candidate – University of the Heartmoor

Archival Assistant

“Finally,” Imogen muttered under her breath. She forwarded the email before slamming her laptop closed in relief. “Looks like I’m headin’ off,” Imogen said, turning to Orym and Fearne.

“Good luck,” Orym said. And then, carefully, “Just… let us know if you need anything while you’re out there,” Orym added, placing a gentle hand onto Imogen’s shoulder. Imogen winced slightly.

“I’ll be fine,” Imogen said, tensing her jaw. She knew Orym meant well. She knew. Fearne and Orym didn’t know every single detail. But they knew about the last time Imogen had done a big research trip like this. How she had a… tumultuous experience to say the least.

What they didn’t know was the depth and scope of the hurt. What they didn’t know was just how much pain, stress, fear, and loss she had experienced then. How she almost withdrew from the program, taking a leave to go back to Gelvaan for a year to reckon with the extent of her hurt. They didn’t know how much she withdrew into herself, wrestling with the scars left as she trudged her way through writing her dissertation and scraping past the finish line, battered, bruised, degree in hand. They didn’t know that it was when her and Laudna–

“Okay,” Orym said. “But just so you know. We’re here.”

“Thanks,” Imogen responded. A muted, but still fond smile grew on her lips.

“And hey,” Fearne added, “maybe you can take this time to do some personal research if you know what I mean.”

“Fearne,” Imogen rolled her eyes as she packed up her bag.

“What? Archives can be so romantic.”

[topsyturvy-turtely]

OTP challenge - day 15

there are two parts because I couldn't didn't want to shorten it for the life of me.

I wanna apologize for not updating regularly - never mind daily. i hope you can forgive my non-existent organization talent! thank you to everyone who is still in on this challenge!

[link to day 14]

15. teaching each other how to do something

(pt. 1/2)

Five year old Rosie stopped playing the violin with a loud dramatic note. "Well done, Watson. Keep practicing and it will be perfect." Sherlock praised his little apprentice.

John scoffed which turned his daughter's and best friend's head around. "Whatever do you you wanna say, John?"

"Just that Rosie already sounds perfect to me."

"Oh, she is. However let's not feed her ego too much.", Sherlock countered and winked at Rosie who grinned up at him.

"Yeah, she is already better at everything I am, aren't you, honey?"

There was a proud twinkle in Rosie's dark blue eyes when she giggled at that.

"Well", John stood up from the armchair that used to be his. "Thank you for the lesson, Sherlock. Are you sure you don't want-"

"I will not accept any payment from my favorite student." Sherlock immediately interrupted.

John made an amused noise. "Yeah, alright. It- it was good to see you, Sherlock." Their relationship ever after the Culverton case has been fragile, they never quite went back to what it used to be but... each man took what he could get.

"Good to see you too, John", Sherlock said softly. "Watson", he added, making the littlest bow towards Rosie. John adored how Sherlock treated his goddaughter. It made the doctor feel soft inside and sometimes this softness creeped through his walls to show through a smile. Like right now. Then he caught himself and clapped his hand against his thigh - a sign to say goodbye.

"Say thank you, Rosie, so we can head home."

Rosie finished putting away her tiny violin, then stretched her arms out, so Sherlock would pick her up. The detective did so, and then let her kiss his nose. "Thanks, Sherlock. Love you."

"Love you, too, Watson.", he said and kissed her temple.

At that moment, Mrs. Hudson walked into the room with a tablet of freshly baked biscuits. (Sherlock doubted it was anything but very calculated timing. She missed John terribly and adored Watson horrendously.) "Hoohoo, darlings! Buiscuits and tea anyone?"

"Mrs. Hudson!", John exclaimed pleasantly surprised (he had of course not seen through the landlady right away like Sherlock). "It's so good to see you!"

"Oh John, you should visit more often! Baker Street misses you.", she shot a meaningful glance at Sherlock, who pretended to busily clean his violin bow.

"And my sweet little Flower, how have you been?"

"Good! I love my violin sessions.", Rosie said enthusiastically.

"I can imagine, it sounds lovely from downstairs. Ooh! But I gotta go! The next round of biscuits is in the oven still!"

"May I come?", Rosie asked excitedly.

"Of course, dear.", Mrs. Hudson immediately agreed (no doubt this was her plan all along).

"Dada, may I?", Rosie asked her father.

"Yeah alright, I'll be right down."

"No hurry!", the two girls said in unision, on their way out.

John laughed after them, "Yeah, I see how it is."

Sherlock smiled, "Hudders adores little Watson."

"Everyone adores that kid.", John replied, shaking his head affectionately.

"Yes, indeed.", agrees Sherlock. He still had that soft smile on his face. Back in the days John liked to think it was only for him. These days, Rosie Watson was on the receiving end of it most of the time. John was glad at least one Watson had that honor.

"You're a fantastic teacher, Sherlock. Rosie... she really loves you.", John wasn't sure why he felt so awkward. They used to flow, now they are stuck in unspoken words and unspeakable emotions.

"It's my pleasure. She - both of you - mean a lot to me."

John softly carressed Rosie's violin case. "Do you know why I wanted her to learn to play the violin?"

Sherlock didn't say anything, but his interest was piqued, John didn't have to see him to know that - he felt it.

"It reminds me of you.", John said quietly and now he did look up at Sherlock. He hoped Sherlock knew what he actually meant: John missed him. How they used to be together.

For a long few seconds Sherlock looked at him. As so often, John could not look away. He didn't want to anyways. Then Sherlock breathed in sharply, turned around and grabbed his violin. John immediately fought an eye-roll. Of course they wouldn't be able to talk, how had he ever thought they-

But Sherlock held the violin out for John to take. "Sherlock, what do-"

"Take it."

Bemused John looked back and forth from the instrument to the man. "Are you sure- ", he started.

"I want you to try. Take it.", Sherlock insisted.

Hesitantly, carefully, John took the instrument. It felt fragile, but it was heavier than John had expected it to be.

"Put it under your chin. Like-"the gentlest touch redirected John's chin. Cold fingers. "-this."

"Hold the bow like-" Again, cold fingers on him, gently, just a whisper of a touch. "There you go."

Sherlock's mouth was close to John's ear. His voice velvet and deep. It crept inside of John, making the fine hair at his neck stand on ends.

"Now play for me.", Sherlock whispered. John surpressed a shiver. He was pretty sure, this shouldn't sound this alluring.

He didn't try to push his finger on a string. He simply let the bow glide and he produced an actual passable sound from a violin.

"Good, that was an A. Now try-", but John forgot to listen when Sherlock stepped behind him, feeling his fingers placing his index on the string, feeling his hand wrap around his bow hand, feeling Sherlock's chest against his back. John is pretty sure he forgot to breathe.

Sherlock was simply too close. He registered the man saying something, but he didn't know what. He tried hard to force the fog away. Instead he felt Sherlock leading his hand over the string, it was so darn cold against his own sweaty hand. A tone played and it was all so surreal: Sherlock teaching him to play the violin, Sherlock against his body, Sherlock whispering in his ear, Sherlock's cold fingers against his own warm ones. The tone sounded on and on and it sounded like the beginning of something. Like the beginning of something magical. Like the beginning of them.

But soon this something, that danced in the room to the tone they had played together, was interrupted by the thunder of upstairs-running kid's feet.

[to be continued in part 2!]

---

Special thanks to @totallysilvergirl whose series "Drawn to Stars" but especially "Teach Your Children Well" has subconsciously inspired me to write this incredibly talented and loving Rosamund Watson. I didn't realize until later, that it was very much inspired by you. Check this series out if you haven't yet! I love it so much!

tag list! (please tell me if you wanna be added or removed! 💚) @catlock-holmes @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @boredsushi @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @7arantellgrrl @ssmeowl123 @so-youre-unattached-like-me @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @pansherlock @the-smol-bean-libby-blog @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @almosttinycowboy @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee

[air--so--sweet]

So, I already edited and added to this one before and it took two hours and then tumblr glitched and saved none that and instead posted my original messy draft and I didn't realise for several hours and was very annoyed which is why this is coming now rather than sooner.

I've decided to save my full David and Syd analysis until after watching season three, so this is just my stray observations post while watching the last three episodes of season 2.

- If David hadn't been off fucking Future Syd maybe he could have prevented the delusion spreading through Division 3 and maybe Ptonomy could have survived. Also, I know they were limited timewise, and I know they haven't really known what to do with Ptonomy since season 1, but couldn't we get at least one shot of his friends mourning him?! If not David and Syd, at least Melanie? Wasn't it implied they worked together a significant amount of time at Summerland? I know his consciousness is being kept alive in a computer or whatever, but they didn't know that at the time!

- I want to know how Clark and Syd's 'girl talk' moment came to be. Do they meet for tea regularly? Talk about their love lives and exes? I'm not sure how I feel about Clark's story about the boy in the army he loved who kept jumping out of planes to get away from him. I feel like it might have been better to get something more real in that moment than bizarre (especially when we know he had a husband and son that he lost due to his obsession with David). I read a review that treated the army boy story as serious and emotional but like... he parachuted away from him, and then one day his parachute didn't open?! It's just occurred to me thst I might be taking this too literally like the autistic stereotype I am but honestly in a show like Legion that's the sort of thing that would be intended to be taken literally and not as a metaphor so I don't even know anymore...

- Literal or not I did not miss the parallel of Syd jumping out of a plane and parachuting down to get to David. Honestly, parachuting into the desert and immediately kicking your boyfriend in the shins is such a power move.

- In general it feels like the show doesn't know what to do with Clark, and I worry that he'll meet a similar fate to Ptonomy as a result. Hopefully not!

- Admiral Fukuyama was created to keep the secrets safe from the telepaths...now he works with them? I liked seeing some of how he came to be, but it honestly it left me more confused. Also, if all he has is the metalwork around his head, I don't really get why he wears a basket...its probably just a meaningless visual I'm reading too much into... I love the visuals of Legion a lot, but I do feel like sometimes 'this would look cool/weird/strange' is the only reasoning behind things and it doesn't always land with me.

- So this absolutely should have gone in my TUA comparison post, but I remembered writing it, got confused, and thought I'd already posted it rather than stuck it in a stray observations draft...whoops. David choosing to not tell anyone his plan as Farouk would read their mind and instead manipulating them all as an alternative - it's the first time David, as David has acted based on his own thoughts and feelings and I'm questioning if he's doing the right thing. I couldn't help but think of Five Hargreeves line to Viktor in The Umbrella Academy, 'You know what they call a superhero who acts alone and doesn't listen to anybody? A villain.' (Having now reached the end of the season I wasn't wrong)

- Farouk previously talked about David's white father taking over and telling his people what to do (sidenote: who are Farouk's people? I thought he might mean mutants, but the white part of the line then doesn't make sense. It's unclear if Farouk is Moroccan like the comics or Iranian, since he speaks Farsi, but in this universe, did Professor X colonise Morocco/Iran?!?) He also talks about white people being cast as the heroes when speaking with Future Syd, and he's got a point, but the show needs to commit if it truly wants to address this. Yes exoticism has been used as short hand for villainous in the past, yes the writers of Legion didn't create or name Amahl Farouk, they're just (loosely) adapting the comics, and yes David does reveal himself to be a villain rather than a hero. But like...Farouk is still also a villain? So yeah, your blonde blue-eyed white man might be a monster, but that doesn't erase all the things Farouk has done (including helping turn David into a monster). Also, him being free at the end is down to his manipulations and control of others, right? Because the whole of Division 3 isn't so stupid as to let him walk free, right?!?

- 'You're the song they play outside a hostage crisis to keep criminals from thinking clearly.' This is just a great line I wanted to highlight. Syd could have just called Lenny a distraction but went with this beauty instead.

-The show that talked about delusion and moral panic then tries to blame technology for helping create narcissists and not seeing others as real people. It feels like that stupid 2014 video that claimed using our phones meant we'd miss out on meeting the love of our life because we won't ask her for directions. It's such nonsense. I've seen people who watched it when it aired say that technology is just a framing device for discussing narcissism and not meant to be seen as the blame, but if that's the case, sorry, they did a shit job because it absolutely feels like its proselytising about the evils of tech. It feels so incredibly out touch and tactless, and I wish they cut it, especially as the John Hamm narrative segments had reached a natural conclusion just the episode before. Having enjoyed the segments until now, it's disappointing that this is what they were building to.

-I think they were aiming for 'the desolate' or 'desolation' but 'Le désolé' just means 'the sorry' I checked with a French friend to make sure, and they confirmed it. You can use désolé to mean desolate, but only if there's a noun in front of it so this doesn't work.

- I'm not sure if the two David in David's mind are meant to be alters or like a devil and angel on his shoulder (really hope it's the latter because DID has been demonised enough and I don't trust the show to not be another Split honestly) but as someone who watches with subtitles I got the fun insight that their names are apparently Divad and Dvd.

- I've seen some people say Legion is set in the '60s/70s but we're never given a year, right? Considering it's a parallel universe I thought it was just another present day low/no tech AU like The Umbrella Academy or Manic. Especially as a lot if the tech we see feels more steampunk than 1960s . I get why a reviewer called the depiction of an MRI scan in season 1 anachronistic now, since MRI was only invented in 1977 (sidenote: as a student radiographer I will still never get over that scene. I was so ready to just accept it as a made up experimental scan and then they said the words MRI and I had to pause it, I was laughing so hard because it's sooo bad)

- I watched two whole seasons of this show and thought Melanie was played by Kim Cattral, but she isn't, she's played by Jean Smart! TWO SEASONS. I hadn't heard of Jean Smart before now, but honestly her and Kim Cattral are twins.

[duhragonball]

Janwum IV Update: 2808

I think this has been going well. The goal is 25k by 1/15, but I purposely set aside the first five days for 5000 words of plotting. I've barely managed half of that, but I still feel like I've made a lot of progress figuring out what I want to do. I knew it would probably be this way, and 5000 was a shot in the dark, so I'm just gonna forge ahead and not worry about hitting that target by Friday night. That just means I'll need to pad out my wordcounts a bit from Jan 6-14, but I don't expect that to be an issue.

The harder part will be nailing 2500 words a day for... wait, I should only need eight days for that. Why did I schedule nine? Oh well, it doesn't matter. I added the 15th as a makeup day, so now I get two makeup days. Anyway, the hard part will be maintaining that pace. I mean, I managed similar numbers in November, but then I had the luxury of being able to jump from one project to another when I got stuck.

If you're bored, you can head on over to my main blog @sodiumlamp , where I have improbably begun hateblogging Star Trek: Picard because they had the temerity to put random present-day labware in a scene set 375 years in the future. Sure, that may sound crazy, but it's a pet peeve of mine when TV shows half-ass laboratory scenes by just putting flasks of colored liquid and acting like that makes it science-y. It's bad enough in police procedural, but this is some hoity-toity big shot production that should know better.

To be fair, Picard only committed this transgression in a single episode, but that episode was really, really terrible, and so are all of the others, so I'm just watching them all and complaining about them to cope.

I bring this up because I was looking up YouTube reviews to see if anyone else hated the show as much as I do, and this has led me to the unfortunate discovery that a lot of the criticism of Picard comes from internet chuds who are just mad because it's "woke" or there are too many women in the cast. You know the type, they're mad at Kathleen Kennedy for existing. Let me assure you, I only hate Picard because it's extremely badly written and slow-paced. I actually feel bad for the actors, because they all seem quite talented, and they're just trying to make the best of the lines they're given.

The important thing is that Star Trek: Picard is a lousy, rotten TV show, and props departments should think twice and do some research before they just order a bunch of graduated cylinder and fill them with Kool-Aid.

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Could you make part 2 for your Shang-Chi fic called New Neighbor??????

New Neighbour // 2

Pairing: Shang-Chi x Reader

Summary: Who said fairytales weren't real?

Warnings: none

Note this is the last part for this fic!

Part 1 Part 2

MASTERLIST

-----

"Okay you two, I have work in like five hours."

"Booooooo!"

"Party pooper!"

Shaun and Katy were drunk off their asses from all the shots of patron and tequila they drank during kareoke night. Ever since that day we all met, Katy and Shaun made it their business to get me to tag along whenever they went out for drinks and good ol' kareoke, no matter which day of the week it is.

"Yeah, booo, I'm no fun, yada, yada, yada. Get your asses in the car or else I'm leaving you guys here." grumbling beneath their breaths they drunkenly gathered their stuff while I paid for the drinks.

"Let's go." I held the door open for them as they stublemd out onto the sidewalk. Thankfully I was able to get parking right around the corner becuase the rain was pouring down on us.

"Here, don't want you to get sick." Shaun put his jacket over my head, his eyes locked with mine under the street light, the cold water beating down on him seemed to sober him up a bit. Even soaked in the rain from head to toe he managed to be handsome. Movement of flouricent pink pants over his shoulder caught my attention.

"Katy!"

She was dancing away in the middle of the empty street to whatever song she has stuck in her head.

I cannot deal with this

"The rain feels great guys!" giving up on trying to do a box step she proceeded to lie flat on her back, letting the rain drops hit her face first.

"She's right, it does." Shaun agreed with her moving to join her in the street. Realizing that I hadn't budged an inch he came back for me, scooping me up into his arms bridal style.

"Shaun!"

He carried me in his arms as if I weighed nothing, spinning us around in the pouring rain. I was fully drenched now, laughing and grinning like a total idiot in the arms of my crush.

Yes, for the past three months I've been crushing really hard on my neighbour since he helped me move in. He's become someone extremely important to me and I don't know what I'd do without having his goofy sense of humor around.

I could never tell if he felt the same about me so I never risked our friendship by trying to see if there was anything more between us. I'd rather be his friend than nothing at all.

"How does it feel now?"

"Amazing."

And I wasn't just talking about the droplets hitting my skin

"Oh for the love of God, Shaun, kiss the girl!" Katy shouted and he stared down at me with a bashful smile on his face, eyes hopeful. I can feel his increased heartbeat in his chest, it was mirroring mine.

"What are you waiting for Shaun? Kiss the girl." my soft tone was enough to break whatever trance he was in, he lowered his head to meet mine and I met him halfway, locking our lips together.

There are no words to describe this kiss, except for the fact that it was magical. The rain, him holding me in his arms, it was perfect. Our lips molded together in a perfect fit, like they were made for each other.

"It's about damn time you love birds got together!" breaking apart I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as he continued to stare down at me.

"You have no idea how long I wanted to do that."

"Same here, I'm glad you finally did."

Smiling he kissed me again, this time dipping me as he did.

I could never get tired of the taste of his lips. Tonight is one for the books, I didn't think that I'd have one of those fairytale kisses like the ones I read in my books but by some twist in fate I finally know what it feels like.

All thanks to my new neighbour.

----

MARVEL Taglist:

@dorks2022 @n3ssm0nique @chrisfucksblog @sophiaedits @peakascum @anonymoustip217 @iiddaaa @mintphoenix @hardcoppizzasludge @panaitbeatrice @tanyaherondale @creatingjana @calimoi @rootcrop @louisianalady @thummbelina @vicmc624 @leyannrae @janaev4ns @queenofkings1212 @believinghurts @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @stumbleonmywords @inas-thing @blackcat420 @badasseddy @spiderlaufeyson @yesimwriting @blondekel77 @4-everm-0-re @sketch-and-write-lover @farfromjustordinary @haoluvver @garbinge

[havecourage-darling]

When You're Gone // Just Like Heaven (2005) AU

Chapter One: New Beginnings - 1/5 || AO3 || Masterlist

Adopted Female! Wheeler Reader x Eddie Munson

wc: 5.8K

warnings: cursing

A/N: This is a Just Like Heaven (2005) AU that absolutely no one asked for. It's my coping mechanism for S4.

For dialogue/plot purposes I made reader a Wheeler but my headcanon, for this story, is that they're the adopted second born. There should be no reference to size/race/features.

I am not posting the rest of this on tumblr** if you want to follow the rest, check it out on my masterlist/AO3

“You promised,” Nancy’s glare shot through the phone and into your skull. If your older sister was good at anything, it was getting her way. Usually with you or Holly. Mike always managed to slip through her fingers. You really needed to get him to teach you how to do that.

“I’m not backing out on that promise!” You said, flipping through a patient’s chart. Oh, he needed a CT scan before you could ask your attending on releasing him. You placed that file to the side.

“Are you even listening to me?” Nancy demanded, a loud sound of the timer going off behind her. “You said you’d be here by six!”

“I will be!”

“The hospital is a thirty-minute drive.”

“So?”

“It’s five forty-five,” she said, dryly.

You shot up, looking at the clock and wincing. “I meant six thirty.”

“Please don’t show up in scrubs.”

“I won’t! Jesus Nance, have some faith in your sister, please. You’re turning into mom.”

Nancy’s sigh was audible through the phone. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I’m just worried. You can’t keep going this way, you’re going to burn out. Undergrad, med school, your residency – it’s been nonstop for almost nine years. You need to do something other than your career, that’s what your twenties are for!”

“Hey, I took you on vacation!” You exclaimed, remembering the beach in Mexico fondly.

Nancy’s voice was like a cold bucket of water. “That was three years ago.”

Rolling your eyes, you hauled your charts back to the nursing station and dumped them into the correct bin. “I promise you Nance, I’ll be there. I will wear that dress you bought me, I’ll be nice, socialize, be a regular human being.”

“You better be!”

“Alright, alright, I love you,” you huffed, rolling your eyes again. If you strained them, you were billing her for the invoice.

“I love you too. Hurry up!”

Hanging up, you walked towards the bathroom and smiled when you saw Barb at the sinks washing her hands. “Hey you,” Barb said, glancing at her watch. “You’re still here?”

“It’s only been a few hours,” you said defensively.

“Try twenty,” she shook her head. “You did you long night two days ago – you’re not scheduled on for this long until next week.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, fixing your hair and making sure you didn’t have anything stuck in your teeth. “Besides, I’m on my way out.”

“Good. You need food and sleep, doctor’s orders.” She winked.

“Ha ha! You’re so funny Holland!”

Barb glanced at your fretting and smiled. “Nancy finally get you to go on that blind date?”

“Yes,” you groaned, “I fought her off for years and now she’s back at it again with a vengeance.”

“She only wants what’s best for you,” Barb said, laughing. “She’s always been like a dog with a toy when she wants something.”

“It’s because our parents moved to a different town after the earthquakes. She’s worried that I’ll feel alone,” you huffed.

“It’s a valid concern,” Barb said, shooting you a look, “although, with our schedules who has time for anything? Charlie and I have rescheduled our date for three weeks now.”

Barb had recently moved out of your building and into a new condo with her long-time boyfriend. You were almost positive he was trying to propose but if you barely left the hospital, Barb practically lived here. She was a senior resident, vying for a permanent position that had recently opened up.

“See, and you’re pointing the finger at me,” you said, applying some lipstick. Barb laughed and nudged you.

“We’ve known each other for too long for me not to,” she said, handing you some blush.

Before long you were finally making your way towards the elevators. “Wheeler? I need another set of eyes on this,” a notoriously cranky senior resident called out. You hesitated, flickering towards the opening doors and sighing when the resident snapped their eyes to you.

“Sorry, were you busy? Should I find another willing intern?” He goaded.

“No, sir. What did you want me to look at?” You said, sighing internally as you followed him towards the nursing station.

An hour later, you were half running towards your car and all but flinging yourself in. Checking the time, you winced when you saw 8:00PM flickering back at you.

“She’s going to kill me,” you sang softly to yourself as you backed out the spot and drove a little faster than needed towards the highway. “But she has to love me anyway!” You tried to console yourself.

You’d managed to catch an issue in the scan that the senior resident hadn’t – in front of the attending, who had congratulated you on your foresight. Not wanting to pat yourself on the back in front of the scowling resident, you let yourself celebrate a little now. Turning the radio onto your favorite station you bopped your head along, wiggling in your seat a little, and grinned. Tonight, was going to go well, you could feel it.

Just as you came to a stop, you checked both ways before letting your foot off the break. A flash of lights - a screeching sound that reverberated in your bones - and the world went dark.

Eddie looked up at the building with skeptical eyes. The façade was crumbling brick with a peeling brown painted trim. The front door, next to a bar, was an ugly yellow color. Or, it’d once been yellow and had now faded to a pale oxidated orange. Following his friend, he walked into the makeshift, narrow lobby and fought the urge to scrunch his nose. The inside was even uglier than the outside, if that was possible.

“Are you sure about this place?” Eddie asked Robin, his brows raising at the dated interior. The bar directly under all the units might also have been the reason for his question. While Eddie had absolutely no room to judge questionable bars – the Blue Ocean Bar looked…bad.

“Yes, and considering that you didn’t like any of the other nicer places in your budget, you should really try and tone down that judgmental tone Munson,” Robin said, shooting him a look over her shoulder. “Besides, don’t judge a book by its cover. You should know that more than anyone.”

Clasping his chest, as if she’d shot him in the heart, Eddie gasped. “Alright, there’s no need to be rude,” Eddie said, laughing when Robin rolled her eyes at him.

He groaned, climbing up the fourth floor walk up that Robin had managed to help him find at the last minute. He’d been looking for a new place for almost two months now, with nothing but a brand-new appreciation for real estate brokers to show for it. Robin was the only one who’d managed to not sucker punch him after so many apartments. Although being one of her best friends might have something to do with her sympathy for him.

“How’d you even find this place?” Eddie asked, catching his breath at the top of the stairs. Man, he needed to cut down on the cigarettes. “You said it was a sublet right? Someone can’t own a unit in this building, right? No one’s that demented.”

“Again with the judgmental tone!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie wheezed as Robin pushed the key into the door.

“It was listed almost two months ago, fully furnished, but with a month-to-month lease. It’s not ideal but we’re both desperate right? Holy shit, look at the kitchen in this thing,” Robin whistled. “I’m not sure who’s listing it since the leasee is working through a private broker. She was very tight lipped about it. There are a few conditions with the apartment but Jesus, look at that view.”

Robin was right, Eddie mused. The apartment was small, a one-bedroom, but it was beautifully designed. The kitchen and living room were open concept, everything looked modern but homey. It looked…lived in. Like someone’s entire life was in this apartment but they hadn’t bothered to come back and retrieve any of their things.

It was clear that photographs were removed from the walls, and other personal items, but it did have pretty much everything he was looking for. The windows were big and spanned across the entire west wall, letting the setting sun warm the entire space. The apartment fit him.

Goddamn it. He hated it when Robin was right. She’d be smug for weeks.

“Alright,” Eddie said, not wanting to prolong the torture, “you were right. It’s pretty good.”

“And you haven’t even seen the best part,” Robin said, smirking. She motioned for him to follow her and walked back out into the hallway. There she procured another key to a door directly to the left of the apartment. “It’s only accessible to the unit on the last floor, private entrance. The handyman told me that the previous tenant mostly climbed up through the fire escape in the bedroom but knowing you – you’d fall out.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Eddie said dryly, climbing after Robin up the steep stairs. Eddie popped his head out and realized they were on the roof. There was rooftop deck. Jesus, she’d really never let him live this down.

“Shed has some of the previous tenant’s stuff, a few musical instruments apparently. We’re to leave it alone if you’re interested in the storage. I took a look and it’s just an acoustic guitar and some gardening tools,” Robin explained. Eddie’s interested peaked at the guitar but his attention was pulled onto the sectional in the middle of the roof. It had a tarp over it, clearly in a lazy effort to conserve the sofa’s integrity, but….

“How the fuck do you get a sectional that big up here? That staircase is too narrow.”

Robin shrugged. “Don’t question it, it’s comfortable.”

“Yeah, fine, fuck it, I’ll take it.”

Pumping her fist, Robin stuck out her tongue and mimicked his earlier statement. “Are you sure Robin? It looks old Robin,” she said in a high-pitched poor imitation. “That’ll teach you to doubt the Buckley intuition.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Eddie said, sighing.

Walking back down into the apartment, Eddie took a quick glance at the bedroom and bathroom down the hall. “So, like I said – the tenant had a two-year lease and was only halfway through. The owner of the building and the previous tenant’s family wants to keep the apartment as is. You’ve got to keep the furniture in the same condition and the major point made by the agent was that the books need to be left alone,” Robin said pointing to the bookshelves that framed the television. “They’re important to the people leasing this out so, you keep your paws off them. Don’t eat near them, don’t drink near them, shit don’t even think about them. Alright?”

“Yes mom,” Eddie huffed. “What’s with all the ladybugs?”

The question was out before Eddie could stop it but, he was curious. The apartment was sprinkled with random ladybug trinkets. Most of them were cluttered by the shelves but he had to ask.

Robin glanced at the shelves. Two ladybug paperweights winked at them as a sunbeam hit them, a crystal shaped ladybug sat at the top of the left shelf while the other had a ladybug clock above it and a pretty large stuffed animal.

“I don’t know, they remind me of an old friend though,” she said, smiling a little sadly. “Alright. Let’s call them and see when you can move in, yeah?”

And it was really that easy. Eddie had met the owner, Chief Hopper of all people, and his wife and kids. Joyce, Jane, Will, and Jonathan. Eddie faintly recognized Jane and knew Will was one of Dustin’s friends. They didn’t live on site – rather in a house in the woods on the other side of town – but, Eddie was confused as to why Hopper would own a building in downtown of all places.

“It was my dad’s,” he had huffed at Eddie, scowl on his face. “Haven’t been able to sell it yet. Keep the apartment clean, don’t go breaking shit, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie promised.

“If you need anything, don’t call me, call Saul.”

So, with that warm and generous welcome, here he was. Fully moved in three days later sitting on the couch with the coffee table cluttered in beers and the ashtray overflowing. Shit, he’d have to dump that soon.

“Fuck it,” he said, pushing the tape into the VHR. He sat back down with a grunt and felt the familiar sucker punch when he heard her laugh.

“Corroded Coffin, first real gig!” She giggled, her blonde hair swaying. “I’m so proud of you babe!”

Eddie’s wide grin filled the camera, his lips coming down to hers in a loud smack. The guys behind the camera groaned and wolf whistled until they separated. “Alright guys! Let’s do this!”

The camera was shaky but it zoomed into the well-lit stage with a moderate crowd and everyone grabbed their instruments. Chrissy cheered, her hair falling into the lens, creating a curtain of blonde strands. He watched himself, eyes happy as he glanced at her, announce into the mic: “This one’s for Chrissy!”

“Fuck this,” he groaned, heaving himself up to his feet and going to grab a joint to go with his beer. He was still too sober to get through the entire video. Eddie held his freshly rolled joint and padded his way back to the living room, feeling his heart drop into his feet when he saw you standing by the couch, looking confused.

Whirling around at the sound of him, your eyes widened. “Who the fuck are you?” You screeched, voice bouncing off the walls.

“Me? Who the hell are you? This is my apartment!” Eddie said, fumbling with the beer in his hand.

“I don’t know how you got in here,” you said, voice steady and no nonsense, “but you need to get the hell out or I’m calling someone.”

“Oh yeah, what are you going to tell them? You’re in my home!”

At that, your calm stance cracked and your eye twitched. “For fuck’s sake I live here!” You ran for the phone at the same time he did and Eddie watched you completely disappear before you touched.

Eddie froze. His eyes darted around the room, as if you’d pop up from behind something, and frowned down at the joint clutched in his hand. Slowly putting it down onto the dining table, he stepped back. Maybe…that was enough for one night. Clearly, grief and booze were clouding his mind.

They’d been clouding his mind for years now, that’s why he liked them, his mind supplied.

Yeah, but he’d never fucking hallucinated. Holy shit, he was finally going crazy. He was cracking under the pressure.

Either way, that was enough for one night.

By the next morning, Eddie had managed to convince himself that he’d been seeing things. It was new to him but definitely not uncommon. His counselor had told him that – grief did strange things to people. Maybe he needed to slow down on the beer and smoking.

Eddie had just managed to convince himself of the fact when one morning, he was woken up by ABBA screeching from the stereo. He jolted up, stumbling blindly into the living room and almost tripping over his pile of discarded clothes.

“Fuck,” he groaned, drowsily slapping a hand against the volume and half-landing on the couch. “What the fuck?”

A loud chuckle echoed faintly behind him and Eddie’s hair stood on end. Whirling around, he saw nothing.

It was fine. This was a fluke. Shit like this happened all the time, right? He wasn’t going crazy. He wasn’t.

At the end of the week, Eddie finally cracked and called Steve. In a span of six days, Eddie had managed to find his cigarettes snapped in two – no matter how many he bought – the stereo waking him up with increasingly bad bands, and most worrisome, it felt like someone was watching him.

He’d entertained the idea of having lost his mind, descending fully into paranoia, and if anyone was up for the task – it’d be Steve.

“What the hell is this bar choice man?” Steve asked quietly, making a face as he sipped his drink. “The beer on tap is shit.”

“His new place is upstairs,” Robin reminded Steve, taking a big gulp from her fruity drink before offering it to Steve who didn’t hesitate in swapping. “How’s that going for you?”

“Well,” Eddie started, eyes glancing around the deserted seating area. How the hell was this place still in business? He never saw more than a handful of people. Shit, the bartender had told him to call for her if he wanted any more drinks before disappearing.

“I’m seeing someone,” Eddie admitted, fingers picking at the beer’s label.

Robin and Steve exchanged excited glances. “That’s great!”

“What?” He blinked at his friends, confused.

“The last time I tried to set you up you bailed, you made me look like an asshole,” Steve said, shooting Robin a look. “The fact that you initiated this? That’s amazing dude, you’re getting out your comfort zone!”

“Who is she? Do we know her? Is she from school?” Robin asked, her expression so eager that Eddie had to take a moment and appreciate his friends.

“I’m seeing someone who isn’t there,” Eddie clarified.

Steve frowned. “Someone who’s emotionally unavailable? I mean, so are you – why are you judging her for it?” Robin elbowed Steve at Eddie’s look and understand dawned on him. “Oh, you mean a hallucination?”

“Twice, in my new place,” Eddie mentioned, pointing upwards. “A woman.”

“Was she hot at least? Ouch, Jesus Robin, it’s a fair question.”

“I think I’m stuck more on the fact that he’s now hallucinating Harrington,” Robin hissed.

Steve’s expression morphed into something more serious, his brows furrowing like they usually did when they were psychoanalyzing him. His hand reached for a napkin and he grabbed a pen from his pocket. “Alright, were you on something when you saw her?” Steve asked in his therapist voice. Eddie had always thought that the jump from babysitter to psychologist wasn’t much. Steve was always a natural at being a good listener.

“I was a little drunk, I’d been watching the last performance Ch-” Eddie’s voice caught on her name. “I’d had a few beers. I was going to light up when she appeared. Why are you writing this down?”

“It’s a shrink thing,” Robin sighed, reaching across the empty bar and pouring three shots, “he can’t help it.”

“I gotta stop drinking,” Eddie muttered, dropping the beer in his hand, the label in tatters.

Steve straightened. “No! God, don’t. I mean, keep it in moderation obviously – when it becomes a problem, I’m here for you. I can give you a good discount-”

“-when?” Robin snickered at Eddie’s narrowed look.

“Until then, drink, smoke, whatever! Just do it with people. Socialize. Look around, this is the first time you’re at a bar in how long? Rejoin the world Munson, it’s been two years. It’s time,” Steve said, eyes going soft in a way that Eddie hated. He hated the sympathy. It’s all he got from people for the past few years.

“Hey, we’re not pitying you,” Robin said, proving his guess that she was a mind reader. “We’re just saying that we’re your friends dude. We’re available, come out with us every once in a while.”

Eddie sighed. “I’d really rather listen to ABBA on repeat than go out and socialize.”

“Dude,” Steve said, with his therapist ‘I’m disappointed in you’ look. It usually worked on Eddie. “Come on.”

“It’s – I’m not ready.”

“You’ll never be ready, you just gotta throw yourself back out there,” Robin said.

Eddie rolled his eyes and focused back onto his drink. “It’s a scary world out there Buckley, it’ll chew me up and spit me back out.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, then you get back up and try again.”

“Isn’t that the beauty of it all?” Robin asked.

Eddie sighed. He hated when they ganged up on him.

Eddie wasn’t willing to admit and say that getting out of the apartment had helped this little ‘losing his mind’ moment of his but he’d managed to have another week go by with no incidents. Maybe Steve was right? Eddie snorted. Words he’d never utter aloud in his lifetime.

Coming back to his apartment after a long day of unpacking and packing up equipment for a local band, Eddie had only one destination in mind. Locking the door behind him clumsily, he stumbled over to his bed and flopped down. God, this stupid bed was comfortable.

Groaning when his knees cracked, Eddie pulled the pillow under his head tightly and started drifting to sleep. While he didn’t want to admit it, Eddie did miss the pull of performing. He’d been with his band for almost a decade before he suddenly dropped out. Jeff and Gareth were always calling him, letting him know he had a spot ready for whenever he wanted to come back. But…Eddie wasn’t ready. The story of his life. Never ready. So, he’d settled for being a crew member, helping wherever he could locally.

It was good work, he liked the band he was working with now, but his joints were always sore for the two days after a tour date scramble. Glancing at the time, Eddie promised himself that he’d get up and order some pizza in an hour – after this nap.

Finally, some peace.

“Oh my God are you still here?” You screeched, shattering his illusion of tranquility.

Eddie jolted up, a familiar situation nowadays, and saw you standing in the doorway. You were illuminated by the light in the hallway and stood with your arms crossed – like an angry toddler. Eddie fought the delirious, exhausted urge to laugh.

Apparently, he didn’t try hard enough because your expression went from mildly annoyed to livid.

“How the hell do you keep getting in here?” You asked, hands moving to your hips. Tapping your shoe against the floor, Eddie sighed.

“You are a hallucination. You are not real.” Eddie said, flopping back onto the bed and pulling the pillow over his head. “Go away!”

“Oh,” your voice came out softer this time, as if you’d discovered something fascinating. “I see what’s happening here.”

“Please, enlighten me, figment of my imagination,” Eddie huffed.

“Has your recent alcohol consumption increased?”

What? That was not what he was expecting.

“Yeah. So?” Eddie asked, sitting up against the headboard, wanting to keep distance between you two. Hallucination or not, he didn’t want to touch you.

“Are you seeing things that aren’t really there? Auditory hallucinations are most common. Hearing anything?” You asked, stepping closer to him.

Eddie snorted. “I’m looking and hearing one right now.” You barely batted an eye, a sympathetic expression coming over you.

“Have you recently sought mental health support? From a professional?”

“How the fuck did you know that, wait a second, stay away from me,” Eddie said, a touch louder than he meant to as you took another step. Eddie felt like a cornered animal in a cage with some kid’s meaty paw swiping at him.

“Right, okay, a little defensive.”

“You’d be too if you were me, okay?!” He exclaimed, hand going to his hair.

“I was afraid of this. Okay, listen to me, you’ve somehow convinced yourself that you live in an apartment that in fact belongs to someone else. This is my apartment. I’ve been leasing it for almost a year.” At Eddie’s silence and confused stare, you continued. “I’ll prove it. These bedsheets? They have a hole in the top right – right there.”

Eddie’s fingers traced the small coin sized tear he hadn’t noticed. “I tore them like two seconds into getting them, I was so mad. There’s a cracked tile in the shower, right? I broke it recently, I slipped and slammed into the wall. That’s why one of the shower curtain rings is broken. How would I know that if this wasn’t my apartment?”

Holy shit, how would you know that? Eddie felt his grip on his sanity loosen. Maybe he needed to call Steve again.

“These are my bedsheets, that’s my nightstand, those are my photos- wait, where are my polaroids?” You froze, hand midair while Eddie was contemplating his existence in the universe.

“What polaroids?”

“My entire wall above that desk, I had taped polaroids to them!” You placed your hands back on your hips and Eddie frowned.

“When I got here there were no polaroids, I swear.” Great, now he was trying to placate the woman who’s apartment he stole – or the hallucination. Oh my God, maybe he really was mentally ill.

“Did you take them? Who does that?” You snapped, stomping over to the phone on the wall. “That’s enough! I’m calling the police!”

Eddie shot up, worried for his sanity either way. “Wait please!” Eddie’s voice trailed off as he watched your hand disappear through the phone.

Holy shit.

“What’d you do to my phone?” She hissed. Her hands unable to grab the phone, disappearing angrily as she swiped for it. For the first time, Eddie saw fear bleed into her eyes. “Stay right there, I’m using the one in the kitchen.”

Your footsteps lightened until you’d disappeared completely.

Eddie slumped, rubbing a hand down his face. Had he almost been convinced by his hallucination that he was delusional? Had he almost believed you?

This was getting fucking ridiculous. If he didn’t do something, he was going to end up in a nuthouse. He wasn’t going to let the community of Hawkin’s get that satisfaction.

This ended now.

And that was how Eddie found himself at the occult bookstore downtown. He’d passed by it so many times coming and going from school years ago but he’d never really given it a second glance. People in this town already thought he was devil worshipper.

Which, from his point of view, wouldn’t be the worst thing. He eyed the crystals lining all the bookshelves and front desk warily. Maybe they wouldn’t be so bad at this point.

“Hey Robin?”

“What’s up Munson?” Robin asked, her voice booming through his phone.

“Do you remember anything that broker told you about the previous tenant?”

Robin hummed, the sound of a printer in the background echoing. “Not really, the agent told me that there had been a tragedy in the family. They didn’t seem to want to talk about it so I didn’t press. I didn’t even get the name of the tenant – the apartment is under Chief Hopper’s name. They’re family friends, I think. Why?”

“No reason.”

Eddie had woken up this morning from the worst sleep of his life, and contemplated his options. He was either hallucinating and needed to be institutionalized. Or this woman was really there and for some reason, only he could see her. A ghost.

The first option didn’t leave much to be desired so Eddie was steering into the latter. As dumb and ridiculous as it sounded. He had to admit, he’d come up with weirder twists during a campaign.

Eddie glanced at the spiritual section, the books blending together and giving him a headache. A familiar voice came from over his shoulder. “Can I help you with anything sir? Wait, Eddie?”

“Sinclair?” Eddie said, grinning despite his situation. “Dude, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Holy shit, yeah,” Lucas said, surprising Eddie with a hug.

“How’s Dustin? I haven’t seen Henderson in almost a year either,” Eddie asked, his older memories shaking off their cobwebs.

“He’s good, everyone’s good,” Lucas said, a familiar look seeping into his eyes and Eddie groaned. He could recognize that look from a mile away. It’d been his whole life since the accident. “Hey man, I’m really sorry about what happened.”

“It’s-” the word fine died on his tongue and he watched Lucas smile genuinely at him. Maybe other people didn’t mean it but he knew Sinclair – he’d known him since he was a short little freshman. Lucas didn’t have a malicious bone in his body. “Thanks, man. How’s Mike? I haven’t seen him since I graduated.”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Lucas asked, sympathy morphing into sadness.

Eddie frowned. “What?”

“His-”

“Lucas!”

Max popped up, chewing gum. She pointed to the flickering lights by the UFO section. “They’re going haywire again, can you check downstairs? Oh, hey Munson,” she said, as if it hadn’t been a good six years since he’d last lived in the trailer across from hers. Her red hair was still neatly braided into pigtails, her expression characteristically serious.

“Hey Max,” Eddie said, smiling at her attitude. He had always liked her.

“It was good to see you man,” Lucas said, “we should get a beer or something.”

“Jesus, you’re old enough to drink? Get out of here man.” Eddie joked, shoving his shoulder. Lucas laughed, his head shaking as he walked over to inspect the light.

“Sorry, was he helping you with anything?” Max said, crossing her arms.

“Uh, do you believe in this stuff?” He asked, a little confused as to how someone like Max worked here.

Something flashed across Max’s face but it was gone before Eddie could pinpoint it. It looked almost, worried. “Yeah,” she glanced at the book he’d picked up. “Don’t take that one, it’s outdated.” She pointed to one in front of him and another a few shelves above.

“Thanks,” he said, pulling them from their spot.

“What kind of encounter had you had?”

“What?”

“People only come in here for a few reasons. Most common, a weird fetish. Second thing? Encounter,” Max said, sounding like the leading expert on the topic. She’d always had enough confidence in her that she could sell water to a fish.

At his stunned silence Max rolled her eyes. “Here, these should help if you’re trying to get rid of it,” she piled on a few books into his arms and Eddie frowned. He was glad she hadn’t assumed he had a fetish but – to just believe him? That he wasn’t going insane wasn’t the easiest and most logical answer?

His life was getting weirder by the moment.

Not wanting to waste any time, Eddie plowed through the books. Some seemed weirdly rational – if you had energy and spirit when you were alive, why would death take that from you? Others seemed downright idiotic. Apparently rubbing lemon onto your elbows and putting some skunk’s pee under his bed helped ward off evil.

Were you even evil? Eddie thought back. Annoying? Yes. Evil? No. The most you’d done is shed a few years off his life by blasting Dancing Queen at six in the morning. And snap his cigarettes – making him chain smoke his pack before he got into his apartment.

“Alright, here goes nothing,” Eddie muttered to himself, feeling ridiculous. He waved the special candle he’d bought from the store a few doors down, and waved it in the air. “My intentions are pure, I mean no harm, I seek only to guide!”

He repeated the chant a few more times before sighing. This was bullshit. Before he could put the candle down, Eddie felt his hair stand on end. The air in the room shifted to something weirdly appealing and Eddie couldn’t help but feel like he was being laughed at.

“Are you there? I think you are,” he said, feeling stupid when there was no answer. Great. This is what his life was reduced to. Doing some weird demonic ritual thing and calling his hallucination ghost girl forward.

Alright, fuck this. He grabbed the first book he saw off the forbidden bookshelves, popping it open, he grabbed at the base of the page and held it up, like he had an audience.

“I’ve got one of the fancy books in my hands. It looks expensive and old. I’m going to oops – accidentally tear at the corner…”

“Don’t you dare!” You admonished, a wonderfully deep scowl in your face, and Eddie immediately dropped the book. “Oh my God! That’s a first edition, pick it up!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Eddie put it down back on the shelf gently. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” You asked, as if any part of this conversation was normal. Like you’d both always been roommates.

“Do you find it weird, about how you’ve been spending your days?”

“Yeah, it’s weird having some fucking stranger in my living room, squatting!”

“I’m not-” Eddie reigned in the fire that lit within him. This woman drove him up the wall. “Let’s start over – I’m Eddie Munson.”

“I’m…uh, I’m…” You frowned eyes glancing around the room. “I – don’t worry about it.”

Eddie fought a smile at the sight of your frustrated glare. “Fine, let’s settle on Lou.”

“Lou?”

“Short for hallucination,” he said, only mostly joking.

“I am not a hallucination.”

“Alright then, uh, what about Bug?” He said, gesturing to the thousands of random ladybug assorted items.

Weirdly, your face smoothed out at that. “Sure. If that gets us to the end of this conversation, sure.”

“When was the last time you remember speaking to anyone? That wasn’t me.”

“The other day!” You said, indignant.

“Okay, what do you do when you’re not here?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you responded with so much venom that Eddie really had to take a second not to smile.

“Has anything traumatic happened to you recently?”

“What?”

“Like, oh, maybe dying?”

“What.”

“I’m trying to help you face the fact that you’re dead,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder only for it to go directly through.

“Do not touch me!”

“I’m sorry! I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just trying to help!”

Her face twisted into something resembling heartbreak and Eddie froze. “What would help me is if you’d get the hell out of my apartment!”

“Do you see a light? The books say to not be afraid of the light!” Eddie said, picking up the book he’d left opened. He’d read some passage about guiding troubled spirits to the light. The afterlife, the big paradise, whatever. He could be someone’s guidance counselor as long as you got the hell out of here.

“There’s no fucking light weirdo! I’m not dead!”

“Have you tried, Bug?”

Your face twisted into something endearingly stubborn. “On second thought I hate that nickname and for the fiftieth time, I’m not dead!” Eddie realized he’d backed you into the middle of the table, only your torso visible. You glanced down and gasped. “What is happening?”

“You’re dead! I just want to live in peace in my own home!” Eddie exclaimed, frustrated.

“This is not your home!” You screamed, hands planting themselves on his chest and subsequently disappearing when you toppled through him and out the window.

“Rest in peace!” Eddie huffed, feeling relieved. He turned and jumped when he saw you with your arms crossed.

“I’m not leaving.”

Jesus, why was it always him? Couldn’t he catch a break?

A/N2: Some things were changed to help fit the story, obviously, there will be some plot holes – let’s just smile and wave boys! Also, I have no idea what a first/second-year intern’s schedule looks like. So anyone in the medical field, pls forgive me lmao

[andreafmn]

Choices - Part 1

Word Count: 3,913

Requested: by me; inspired by a TikTok POV

Story Description: After the snap (Y/N) and Steve decided to shift their friendship into a romantic relationship. After the Battle of Earth, and Thanos’s ultimate defeat, Steve had to travel back in time to return the stones, but what (Y/N) doesn’t know is he’s not returning. The man leaves to his best friend the hard task to break the news to his lover. But what will happen if Steve returns in an unexpected manner? 

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part: 1/3

A/N: I just gotta say I only have spoiled knowledge of what happens in Endgame because I refuse to acknowledge its existence and I’ll never watch it. Anything I write that is not cannon, whoops. But this one-shot is inspired by a POV I stumbled upon in TikTok and I just needed to write. Had to divide it into two parts because it was getting too long.

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                                                        ***

 It had taken 6 years and losing almost everyone we loved for Steve and me to admit our feelings for each other. After seeing our closest friends dissipate into fine dust we decided life was too short to wait for the right time. 

That was 5 years ago. Our relationship had been solidified as the years went on and the loss of Nat and Tony in the Battle of Earth only bringing us closer.

But something had changed. These past few days Steve had grown distant and quiet, only acknowledging me when we were in our bedroom or stuck in training. All I could attribute it to was that he was nervous about traveling to return the stones. Normally, he would talk to me about what was clouding his mind but nowadays he was acting as if we were strangers. 

Thankfully, I had a friend to occupy my time with. Bucky and I had developed a close friendship since meeting him back when he still was the Winter Soldier. Being part of his recovery was the catalyst to the relationship we have today. Losing him in the blip was horribly heartbreaking but it brought me and Steve closer. Now that he was back, I was able to have someone I could confide in the understood the Captain’s brain. 

“Hey, Buck,” I announced my arrival as I saw Bucky getting some water in the kitchen. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Not really,” he sighed. “The nightmares, you know?” 

He was right, I did know. Although I wasn’t blipped I had my own demons I was still battling with. “Yeah, I get it. I’m making grilled cheese, do you want some?” 

“Grilled cheese? At 3 am?” He chuckled. “What’s wrong?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Come on, (Y/N). You only eat grilled cheese at this time when you’re worried about something.”

“You know me too well,” I sighed. “It’s Steve. He’s been really weird this past few days.” 

“Weird how?”

“He’s been kinda avoiding me lately and I don’t know why.” A few tears were threatening to spill, but I did my best to dry them before they fell. “It’s like nothing I do is good enough, like he’d rather be anywhere but close to me. Does he hate me? Is it something I did?” 

Bucky got up from the chair he was sat in and wrapped me in a hug. I couldn’t hold off the tears this time. “There’s nothing you could do that would make that man hate you, he’s probably just in his head about traveling in time.” 

“I thought so, but why wouldn’t he talk to me about it. There’s not a single thing we haven’t been able to talk about up to ‘til now. What’s so important about this that he can’t talk to me about it.” 

“Don’t stress yourself over this, doll. I’m sure after tomorrow everything would go back to how it was.”

Bucky’s POV

And at that time I did believe it. Knowing Steve I really thought he was just nervous about the journey he had to take in the morning. That was until he said he needed to talk with me. 

“What is it, punk? You too nervous?” I chuckled until I saw the serious face he held. 

“I need a favor from you, Buck, and you might not like it.” 

“You’re scaring me, Steve. What’s wrong?” I couldn’t help but think that this had to do with why he was avoiding (Y/N). 

“When I go back today, I’m not coming back in 5 seconds.” 

“What are you talking about, Steve?” 

“I’m going to stay back and have a life with Peggy. This is my last chance to be with her and I’m taking it,” he ran his hands through his face. He knew what he was asking of me and he knew it wasn’t fair. “I need you to tell (Y/N) for me once I’m gone. She’s gonna need someone to lean on and I need it to be you.” 

“You can’t do that, Rogers. It’s not fair to me and it’s definitely not fair to her. (Y/N) loves you with her whole being. This is going to crush her.” He had been ignoring her out of guilt and he was leaving all these feelings behind in a couple of hours, leaving me to deal with the aftermath. “You know, she’s been beating herself over you avoiding her and I thought it was just nerves. But this is a new low; the Steve I know would never do this.” 

“Bucky, I’m sorry. I just think it’ll go over quicker if it comes from you.” 

“What you’re doing is cleaning your hands of a mess you’re making.” The anger was boiling inside of me by now. (Y/N) did not deserve this ending, she did not deserve to have her heart broken in such a cowardly way. 

“Please, Bucky. I don’t think I could tell her face to face.” He took a paper out of his back pocket. “I wrote her this letter, hopefully, it’ll help things to smooth over. Please, Buck, please. You have to believe me when I tell you the last thing I want to do is hurt her.”

I snatched the letter from his hands and guarded it in my jacket pocket. “I’ll do it only because I owe you my life and she’ll need someone once I break her heart for you. But, I get it.” 

“Thanks, bud. I know that for now, it must seem like a horrible thing to do but hopefully in time you’ll see my point of view.” I accepted the hug he offered. Although my head was telling me to be loyal to Steve, my heart was breaking at the thought of breaking (Y/N)’s. 

Before I knew it, Sam, Bruce, (Y/N), Steve, and I were standing in front of the machine that would be the catalyst of inevitable heartbreak. 

3rd person’s POV

“Well, this is it,” Steve whispered. They were standing to the right as Banner made sure everything was ready for Steve’s trip. 

“You know, it’s not too late to back out,” (Y/N)’s hands traveled to his chest. “We can have someone else go.” 

“It has to be me, (Y/N). But I’ll be back before you know it, doll.” His head lowered and left a deep kiss on her lips. They lingered for longer than usual, and she couldn’t help but imagine that there was an underlying message to it. “You know I love you, right? And I would never do anything to purposely hurt you, right?”

“Of course, Steve. I love you, too.” (Y/N) smiled and kissed him once more, allowing him to engulf her in a tight hug. “Be careful, okay? I can’t lose you too.” 

“I will,” he smiled. “Now, I’ve gotta go.”

“I know, be safe.” She smiled once more as she watched Steve get on the machine. She made her way over to Bucky, his arm circling her shoulders. “It’s just 5 seconds, right?” 

“Yup,” he smiled, ignoring the burning sensation coming from the paper inside his jacket. “Just five seconds.”

“Ready, Cap?” asked Bruce from behind the control panel. Steve nodded, one hand on Mjolnir and another on the case that held the Infinity Stones. “Alright, we’ll meet you back here, okay?” 

“You bet,” he responded. Two of the people present knew that it was a lie, but no one else had picked up on it yet. His head was encircled by the helmet and he stared at the two people that meant the most to him in this lifetime. Hurting them was the hardest thing he had to do, but he had been living for everyone else for too long. He decided that it was time to do something for himself. 

“Going quantum in 3, 2, 1,” Bruce announced. A breath hitched in (Y/N)’s throat as the time went down, all she had to do was brace herself for five seconds. Banner hit the button and (Y/N) had to blink various times to fully grasp the disappearance of the man she loved. He had vanished as quick as a thought, one second there and the next just a memory. “And returning in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1....”

Nothing. Bruce clicked the button and nothing happened. The body of Captain America was nowhere in sight. 

“Bruce, what the hell is going on?” (Y/N) spoke up, but she wasn’t sure if her voice was heard. Her mind raced a million miles an hour and she could feel her legs giving out. Had it not been for Bucky’s left arm, she would have crashed to the floor. Bruce stammered with his words, not knowing what to say. “Bucky, where is he, Bucky? Where’s Steve?” 

Bucky knew it would hurt to see her cry, but this was shattering his heart. Her body was falling limp in his arms and the tears were streaming out of her eyes faster than he could dry them. Her words were slurred but he understood the gist of it. She was hurt; she was betrayed; she was beyond heartbroken. 

“Come on, let’s sit down.” Bucky led her to the tent that was propped up behind them. “There’s something you should know.” 

“What is it, Buck?” She sobbed. 

“Please don’t hate me, but Steve is not coming back.” The girl looked up at her friend, not know what emotion she was feeling in the moment. Her tears stopped momentarily, needing to hear the words that would spill from Bucky’s mouth. “Steve decided to go back in time and have a life with Peggy. He needed you to know that he didn’t want to hurt you. He also left you this note.” 

Her shaky hands extended to take hold of the piece of paper Bucky handed her. She dried away the tears that were clouding her eyes and began reading. 

My dearest doll,

 If you are reading this letter, you know I am not coming back. I decided to take hold of the chance to have the life I would’ve had if I stayed in the 40s. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling in this moment, and I’m sorry for all the hurt I know I’m causing you. I need you to know that I never knew I could love someone after Peggy and I’m thankful for all the years we had together. I was in love with you and I still am, but I could not continue on knowing I have a chance to answer one of my biggest ‘what if’s. I could not go on in our life with the weight of my past on our shoulders, you deserve better than that. I hope you can pardon how big of a coward I am being in the moment, I knew I couldn’t do this face-to-face and you deserve at least a worded explanation of why I left. You are strong, amazing, beautiful, and deserving of all the love in the world; I’m sorry I couldn’t provide it. I want you to promise me that you’ll move on and be happy, even if it’s not with me. I also hope you don’t hate Bucky for being the bearer of bad news, he didn’t know until today and I gave him no other choice thant to tell you. If there’s someone that can understand what you are feeling right now, it is him.

I hope one day you will forgive me for this,

I love you until the end of the line.

Steve

She folded the paper back up and broke down once again. Bucky engulfed her in a hug and held her as she shook. “He’s gone, Buck. He went back to be with Peggy. I wasn’t enough for him.” 

“Oh, doll, I’m so sorry.” 

“Guys, we’ve got to head back,” Sam peeked his head through the tent, heartbroken by the view in front of him. “I’ve got her, Buck. Go get the truck started.” 

Bucky released (Y/N) into the arms of Sam Wilson, and left to start the car to head back to the tower. Sam ran his hands over the sobbing girl’s hair trying his best to soothe her. Even though he didn’t fully understand the situation she was in, he got the jist of it. After everything was packed back up, (Y/N) had fallen asleep in Sam’s arms, so he picked her up and laid her on his lap to not wake her. She would be needing all the rest she could get. 

“You guys good back there?” Bucky asked.  

“Yeah, she’s out like a light,” Sam whispered. 

“Good, she’s gonna need all the energy she can get to recover.”

“What happened?” 

“Steve decided to stay back and be with Peggy; left me to tell her the news.” Busky gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were pale white, his anger building up inside him. 

“Wow, I never expected that from the Cap. I don’t think it’ll be easy for her to move on from this.” He looked down at the sleeping figure in his lap, wiping away the few tears that had slipped out in her slumber. “She might be physically strong, but she’s very sensitive and rarely gets attached.”

“I still don’t understand why he chose to do it this way. The little punk.”

The duo waited until Banner was inside the truck before leaving the spot they were in and back home. Unbeknownst to them, behind the trees, a figure stared at the scene in front of him with a broken heart.

                                                           ***

It had been almost three weeks of robotic movements from (Y/N). She would wake up, sometimes eat, sit in front of a window and stare down the New York skyline; other times she would lay in bed wearing one of Steve’s shirts and sprayed the room with his cologne as she sobbed into his pillow. There were the nights that she drowned her sorrows in a bottle of whatever liquor she could find, until the other members started hiding the bottles. But that didn’t stop her from stashing a couple of bottles in her closet. Nighttime was always the hardest. (Y/N) had grown used to falling asleep in Steve’s arms and being engulfed in his warmth. Now, she thrashed around in a bed that was too big, too cold, and too uncomfortable.

The rest of the team had tried their best to lift her spirits, but nothing seemed to work too well. Sam tried his best to make her favorite meals, which she gave thanks for but rarely ate, pushing the food around in the plate; Bucky tried to entice some emotion by asking her to join him in clearing his list of movies to watch to catch up on the times, but she would zone out for most of the movie; Bruce would ask her to join him in his afternoon reading sessions, but every time she picked up a book she re-read the same page over and over not retaining a single word; Wanda would try her best to get her to partake in normal hygiene practices, which the girl had held off on for a couple of days, only getting her to shower every other day.

(Y/N) was a walking zombie, doing the bare minimum to survive.

But today she had woken up differently, her heart hurting a little less than the other days. She got into the shower, brushed her teeth, and even got dressed in her own clothes. It was three in the afternoon, but she was up. She was detangling her hair when her bedroom door opened.

“You’re awake?” Bucky said, startled to see a clean and awake (Y/N) in front of him. “Don’t mean to sound so surprised, but I came in here with the intention to startle you awake once again.”

The girl chuckled and continued her brushing. “Thought it was time to do something by myself.”

“Here, let me.” Bucky took the brush from her hands and started brushing through her damp hair. It finally smelled of her normal shampoo and conditioner, and not a mix of her hair oils and Steve’s cologne. The smell of strawberries and vanilla emanated from her head and Bucky couldn’t help but breathe in deep. His left hand ran the hairbrush through her hair as his right hand smoothed it down. (Y/N) leaned into his touch and smiled at the comforting strokes he was providing. Unknowingly, Bucky started humming a lullaby under his breath.

“What are you humming?”

“It’s a Russian lullaby I overheard one night while under HYDRAs hold. There’s not much I like to remember from those times, but this I don’t mind.”

“I like it,” she rocked to the movements of his hands and smiled as she listened intently to his humming. She couldn’t see him, but the veteran was smiling at her. It had been the first time she had shown any kind of emotion in the time that had elapsed. He finished her hair in a sloppy braid, not fully understanding the mechanics of the three-strand braid. “Thank you, Buck.”

“How’re you feeling today, (Y/N)?” He finally asked.

“I’m feeling better, don’t know how long it will take to get me to 100% but I’m feeling like a 45% today.”

“That’s good to hear, you know. It’s better than where we started.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind and she leaned into him, enjoying the warmth his body emanated. “So, what do you want to do today?”

“Have not gotten up to that point.”

“Well, Sam’s already cooking up something in the kitchen and I’m on the second movie of The Lord of the Rings, so we can watch that one.”

“Okay, that sounds good.” She smiled at the man that was next to her as they exited her room.

The rest of the team had gathered in the kitchen, working on ways to cheer (Y/N) up when they saw her emerge from the hallway with a small smile on her face. Everyone’s jaw fell open when they saw the girl looking partly human and with a spark of energy. It had been a while since she had resembled the (Y/N) they knew and loved.

“Guys, please pick up your mouths off the floor, your eyes do not deceive you.” (Y/N) joked.

“Glad to see you’re alive, (Y/N),” Sam spoke. “Come have some food.” 

She smiled at her friend and sat next to Wanda as Sam placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her. Bucky served himself and her a cup of coffee and added the cream and sugar she enjoyed with her drink. She happily munched on the food as the people around her stared in astonishment.

Thankfully, the staring didn’t last long. Wanda and Sam had a quick recon mission and Bruce had some work to finish in the lab, leaving Bucky and (Y/N) to enjoy The Two Towers in peace. Bucky had the curtains drawn and the movie all set up as (Y/N) took out blankets and made a hole between all the pillows that adorned the couch. The duo settled into their spot and bundled themselves in the blankets, settling in for the 226 minutes of the extended version of the movie.

She wasn’t sure at what point in the movie she fell asleep, but she was woken up by Bucky softly shaking her awake. She mumbled something she didn’t even understand, so Bucky decided to carry her to her bed. (Y/N) had burned too much energy by being around too many people too fast. It didn’t seem like a lot but being around the whole team had taken a toll on her. The sun had started to set and so were the last slivers of happiness she had felt.

Bucky set her down on her bed, tucking the blankets around her. He turned to leave when a small hand wrapped around his right wrist. He looked down and saw a teary-eyed (Y/N) looking up at him.

“Stay, please.” Her voice was barely a whisper and it trembled slightly. She was the vision of the heartbreaking scene that had hurt him three weeks ago.

He smiled softly at the girl and went around the bed to climb in. “Today was hard, huh?”

“Yeah, I thought I was ready to go back to normal, but it took too much out of me. I feel so useless.”

“You are far from useless, doll. You’re hurting, darling, we all understand.” He pulled her in close and laid her head on his chest, the thin layer becoming wet with her tears. “It’ll get better someday, that’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“How do you know?” 

“Because we all do, after a while we all get better.”

“I wish we knew how long a while was. Everything would be easier.” 

“I know, doll, but let’s take it all one day at a time. Just remember you’re not alone. You have me – and the rest of the team.” He cleared his throat trying to disguise the importance she held in his life. Bucky would have never said anything, but he had fallen for the girl. He held her already in high regard for the care she had given to his best friend, but his feelings had started to shift when she started caring for him while they were on the run.

“Thank you, Buck. I don’t know where I would be without you.” She laid a kiss on his chest and drifted to sleep with Bucky’s arm rubbing circles on her back.

One more week had gone by and (Y/N) had grown used to having Bucky sleep with her at night. He had helped her pack away all the things Steve had left in the room – specifically the cologne that still hunted her, – he started waking her up earlier and making sure she got at least two full meals a days before she went to bed, and he made sure that she didn’t spend her nights crying for a man he called his best friend.

All of Bucky’s efforts didn’t go unnoticed. The remaining Avengers had noticed how the ex-assassin cared for the broken girl, going further than the rest of them did. And his feelings for the girl did not fly by the mind-reading witch that currently stared at him preparing lunch for (Y/N).

“When will you tell her how you feel?” The redhead spoke, casually sipping on a cup of coffee.

“What do you mean, Wanda?” 

“What she means is that you’ve been in love with that girl for far too long and it’s time you confess already,” Sam jeered. “Nothing’s stopping you now.”

“Except for the fact that she’s still reeling from my best friend breaking her heart by going back in time and leaving her to be with someone else. I’m sure she’ll be jumping with joy if I confess right now,” he mocked. “Anyways, how did you know?” 

“You’re not very secretive about it,’’ Sam laughed. “You’re always in a sour mood but magically when you’re with her you become someone else. The White Wolf become (Y/N)’s puppy real quick!’’

“I am not that obvious with it.”

“Okay, lil’ pup.”

“Whatever. Anyways, it’s not the right time for that.”

“When will it be the right time then, Bucky?” Wanda inquired.

“I don’t know. But it’s not right now.”  He plated what he was cooking and headed to (Y/N)’s room. The last thing she needed at the moment was a new relationship, even if that’s all Bucky wanted. 

[elias-code]

The Feeling’s Mutual - c!Techno x Reader

PT 1 because I‘m taking too long lmao

Characters: c!Technoblade x gn!Reader, Philza, Quackity, Charlie S

Summary: [from an ask] The reader is kicked out by Quackity from Las Nevadas and was forced to roam around to look for somewhere to live and they end up in Techno’s cabin after passing out in the tundra. At first, you have a shared hatred of each other, but you end up warming up when you figure out he’s been making you breakfast.

Warnings: Exile, mild malnutrition, corruption

————————— Enjoy :3 —————————

“Ooh! I get to go visit you now! Like a vacation!” Charlie cheered.

“No, Charlie,” You sighed, continuing to follow him out of the city, “I’m getting exiled. I don’t think Quackity will let you visit me,”

He frowned, confused. He wasn’t the best at understanding broad concepts like exile and all the drama that brought it about. He just thinks you’re one of his best friends, and that Quackity is also his best friend. Now, Quackity was in no way your friend as you once were. He banished you for the dumbest thing, just because you challenged his integrity. Unbeknownst to Charlie, Quackity was giving away trade secrets, rigging elections and his casinos. You didn’t join him to scam people, you just wanted a new start after L’Manburg.

You walked with him in silence past the bright neon lights and street lamps of Los Nevadas. You were never going to be allowed back here, even though you built half of the damn place.

“So if Quackity doesn’t let me visit, can you visit me?” Charlie asked solemnly.

“Again, probably not,” You stuffed your hands in your pockets and half-smiled at him, “I don’t think he wants to see me back here. Ever,”

Where were you even going to go? No one would take you. Quackity had made many enemies, who were, in turn, yours, and now no one you were allied with alongside Quackity will be friendly except for Charlie. But Charlie was his lapdog, nothing could touch him and you weren’t going to be allowed around him anymore.

Your enemies list was vast, all the way up at the top, finally overtaking Technoblade, was Quackity. Congrats, Big Q, you piece of shit.

Charlie stopped at the end of the road, finally realizing this might be the last time you see each other. He wanted to cry, but he held it back. There’d always be hope, he could sneak out, you could sneak in. But you’d have to do it all in secret, and it just didn’t feel right to him.

“I’m gonna miss you, Charlie,” You said.

He smiled weakly at you and pulled you in for a slimy hug.

“We’ll see each other again someday,” He stated.

You wanted to believe that, but the pit in your stomach just sank further as the embrace came to an end. You’d have to get going, this would be the last time you see him, or Los Nevadas for that matter, in a long time at least.

-

You spent days wandering. Just as you suspected, no one would take you in. Not even Niki because of your governmental associations. You found the occasional scrap of meat or stale bread in some chests along the prime path, but you felt so sick to your stomach that it became hard to eat anything you found.

From the desert to the ocean to the plains to the tundra you roamed. You hunted with what little supplies you had.

There had been no food for days now, the snow was the only source of water within sight. There were no signs of life, no people, no animals, only the occasional dying tree to sleep under in the blistering cold. As if things couldn’t get any worse, the blizzard came.

Blinding white all around. The only sound audible was the whistling of the wind in the frozen, rotting branches above you. At this point, you’d gone numb, the only thing you could feel was your heart beating heavily in your chest as you lost consciousness.

-

“We couldn’t just leave them out in the snow, Techno! That’s just cruel!”

“They’re with Quackity, Phil. Don’t make me explain this again,”

“I’m not going to let you throw them back out,” Phil explained, “No one would willingly come here, Technoblade. They have a reason, I know it,”

You opened your eyes cautiously. It was warm, you were covered in a thick red cape and a few blankets, the fire next to you was roaring. Whatever argument was taking place had moved further into the distance, out of earshot.

Everything ached, but at least you were warm. You let yourself come to your senses. Maybe the exile was all a nightmare. Maybe Quackity wasn’t a dumb bitch after all. But where were you? Whose bed was this? Whose-

It’s Technoblade’s cape.

Your eyes widened as you shot up out of bed. The pain in your legs was sickening, but so was being in this man’s house. You ran to the fireplace and grabbed some sharp steel tongs, meant for poking at the logs, for protection. His footsteps moved closer, the conversation was over.

You brandished your weapon and prayed for dear life.

The door creaked open and he stepped through, shutting it behind him. He stared at you, looking down at the weapon and then back at the tossed bed. He looked unfazed by your threatening pose. You were more scared than he was.

“I lend you my cape,” Technoblade points at the bed, “And you decide the best move for you is to stab me?”

Guilt crept into your throat.

“What am I doing here?” You hissed at him.

“Phil found you under a tree,” He chuckled, “And decided he wanted to adopt someone else,”

“Aren’t you supposed to kill me or something?”

“Why? Should I?” He threatened, taking a step towards you.

You stepped back, bumping into the table behind you, “That- That’s what you do,”

“If it were up to me, you’d probably be buried in the snow by now.”

You scowled at him, rediscovering past hatred towards him and using that to fuel your rage.

“I’d rather be left out there,” You spat, “Not stuck in here with you-“

“Again, I agree, but Phil is the one you should be angry with if you don’t want to be here,” He rolled his eyes and held his hand out.

“I’m not giving this back to you,” You growled.

He stepped forward and snatched the spear out of your hand, tossing it behind him, out of reach. He leaned forward and hissed in your face, “Don’t try anything, kid,”

You swallowed your pride, weak and unarmed. Whether you liked it or not, you’d have to stay with him for a while. No one would take you in, so it was either deal with Technoblade or die. You might as well use this to your advantage.

-

Days went by where you never even saw Techno. Phil took care of you most of the time, but he didn’t have any room in his house with Wilbur being there and all, so you were forced to sleep in Techno’s cabin. It became easier and more manageable as time went on. The only time you ever really saw him were the latest hours of the night when he’d come home and, if you were lucky, at dawn when he left.

Breakfast usually materialized at your doorstep every morning around the same time. Sometimes it was yoghurt, sometimes fresh fruit, sometimes cold meat and oatmeal, but it was always delicious. You suspected Phil was behind the mysterious meals, that was until you asked him about it.

“I don’t think I ever said, but thanks for breakfast,” You smiled at Phil as you helped him load firewood into the horse’s saddlebags.

He looked at you, perplexed, to say the least.

“What breakfast? Don’t you just eat whatever Techno has?” Phil replied.

Your stomach turned, letting the past couple of weeks turn over in your head. You shouldn’t have assumed Phil was the one making your food. You should’ve asked before you just started gorging yourself every morning.

Phil watched as you turned pale and hopped on the horse. He thought that you just ate whatever Techno had in his pantries, and never questioned it. Now, all was revealed. Techno had been making you breakfast.

For most people living as a guest in someone else's house, having breakfast brought to their door would just be seen as a sweet thing, but it was dangerously blown out of proportions when it was your ex greatest enemy doing it without you even knowing. You silently reasoned with yourself that if he was going to poison you, you’d be dead already. That comforting fact backfired as you realised he could have killed you so easily. Your emotions were on a rollercoaster, and your stomach sank deeper and deeper as the more intrusive thoughts crept in.

You needed to catch him in the act. Something about The Blood God making you breakfast created sentiments of self-worth out of thin air. Part of you wanted to prove it to yourself, and part of you wanted to embarrass him for it.

-

The familiar shine of daybreak made the room glow orange. The fire had gone out that night, as it usually did, but the cold felt like nothing now that you had a mission to accomplish.

You slipped out of bed, clad in leggings and a simple green shirt. The floor was icy on your bare feet but you trodded out the door and down the stairs, heading for the kitchen.

The dining room was salmon-pink, highlighted by the bright orange flickering coming from the fireplace. It was already warmer down here than it was upstairs, the fire must’ve already been on for a while by now. The kitchen was out of view, but you could already smell fish frying from the base of the stairs.

Making your way through the archway, you spotted Techno’s red cape on its hook by the door next to the thick winter coat you loaned from Phil. Below them, both were black boots, sprinkled with half-melted snow. The floorboard below you creaked when you stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

Techno spun around, startled by the noise. His face flushed with guilt temporarily but was quickly replaced by a furrowed brow and confused eyes.

“What are you doing awake? It’s five,” He implored.

“I could smell the salmon,” You shrugged and moved towards him innocently.

He turned back to the fish and turned the stove off, sliding it onto a plate.

“What’re we eating today?”

“You just said,”

You scoffed and conceded. It was a dumb thing to ask, but he wasn’t supposed to answer. It was only meant to highlight the reality that you knew what he’d been doing. Nothing in his expression, now unreadable, made you think he didn’t know that you knew he’d been making you breakfast.

He gently pushed by you, letting his arm brush against yours. It made your heart skip a beat, probably out of fear, you told yourself. Your skin went cold, but you followed him into the next room where he put the dish on the table and gestured for you to sit.

“You don’t seem to hate me anymore,” You mumbled.

“I never said I hated you, just that I don’t like you,”

“Well, you don’t seem to not like me either,”

He blinked at you and sat across the table from you.

“Where are you going today?” You said with a mouthful of food, “To do mysterious things, I imagine,”

“I was going to stay here today, actually.”

You stopped eating.

“I finished my mysterious duties,” He mocked.

Well, he wasn’t going to budge on where he’d been going the past few nights, but that wasn’t particularly important right now. What caught your attention was that he was staying here for the day. Again, meaningless to most people, but with him, it was surprising.

He began snickering, just at your face.

“I was never the one that hated you,” He laughed, “You were the one who brandished that poker at me,”

Your face flushed red with embarrassment, “I can be resourceful, at least,”

He continued to laugh at you, the absurdity of the situation hitting him with full force. Right now you wished you could hit him with full force.

“Alright, alright,” He took a deep breath, “I do have some questions for you,”

You looked up at him, annoyance plastered on your face.

“Shoot,”

“Why are you here instead of Las Nevadas?”

“Because Quackity kicked me out, and-“

“How did you know I made you breakfast?” He cut you off.

“I asked Phil, but-“

“Why did Quackity kick you out?”

“I asked him too many questions, just-“

“Do you still hold any loyalty to him?”

“No, but-“

“Questionnaire over, thank you for participating,” He stood up and excused himself from the table, heading back to the kitchen.

-

Techno never left again after that. He stuck around and made an effort to make you annoyed and uncomfortable every chance he could get. It was becoming a sort of game with him, and you were more than happy to play along. It made it easier to get along with him in general. There’d be no more dreading seeing him, no more awkwardness surrounding your avoidance.

Now, you had other things to be awkward about. If you passed each other a bit too close in a doorway, when you tripped over a rug in the living room, the fact that you were sleeping in his bed, the abrupt flirtatious nature of the man you were now sharing a room with.

You never really thought about it, but before he moved back into his room onto a makeshift bed, he’d been sleeping on the couch. He’d wake you early in the morning when he’d get up to make breakfast, and whenever he did leave to run errands, he’d wake you late at night when he came home.

One morning, around eight, he woke you purposefully.

“Get dressed, I want to show you something,” he whispered, gently shaking you.

You groggily complied and eventually found your way to the front door where he was waiting for you.

“No breakfast?” You asked.

“Breakfast after,” He said, opening the door.

He was dressed in his usual clothes, but he carried a large satchel with him. Inside were different scraps of leftover meat and some bones. He didn’t tell you what for, but you were too tired to ask anyway.

You followed him through the fresh snow, crunching under your feet. It was drowned out by mindless conversation that you both kept up to stay awake. He brought you to a distant hill in a clearing, where a cliffside was awaiting. The conversation stopped as he told you to wait, and he went over to the wall and pressed a rock into the stone.

You could faintly hear the sound of pistons firing before the rock slid down slotted into the floor.

The sound of dogs barking filled the forest as hundreds of dogs and puppies spilt out of the entrance. Most of them went running to Techno, who was now holding the bag aloft, out of reach from the dogs. Some of them ran to you, their tails wagging happily at their new potential playmate.

“Pretty cool, huh?” He shouted.

“Holy-“ You stopped and pet the large, black dog that jumped on you, “Where’d you get so many dogs?”

“Long story,” He began to throw chunks of meat into the writhing pile of hounds, who were now obsessively sniffing you.

“I do this three times a week,” he said as he made his way over to you, “It’d get done a lot faster if you could help now that you’re living here full-time,”

“Wait,” You looked at him blankly, “Full-time?”

“That’s the idea,”

You thought for a moment, “Where am I going to sleep?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said, handing you some chunks of meat to throw.

By the time Techno’s bag was empty, it was almost noon. He shephered them back into the cavern and shut the door behind them. They were very well trained, when he commanded them all to sit once they got inside, there was no hesitation. The puppies were confused at first, but they followed along with the pack flawlessly.

Leaving the clearing, you talked with him freely about your plans for the future at the cabin. It didn’t mean you’d live there forever, knowing Techno, he might end up being hunted out of the tundra eventually. But for now, you were sticking with him.

It was strsnge to think that you were once mortal enemies, staring each other down on the battlefield with nothing but rage coursing through your veins. Now, you were cheerily chatting about what it would be like to settle down together. Between the two of you, mutual feelings of respect and redemption. The distrust was long since buried.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

[ariadne-does-her-best]

Love in G Major

Dick Grayson x Reader One-Shot; Soulmate!Au

Word Count: 2,500+

Warnings: Kidnapping but nothing graphic happens

Author’s Note: Hey guys! This is my first time posting a fic so characters may be a little OOC. Please let me know if you guys liked this and if you want to, feel free to send a request! Also, I might make a series of Soulmate! Aus since I have a good idea for Jasons thought out. xo, Ariadne

Summary: In a world where everyone has a soulmate, you’re one of the lucky ones to receive a physical sign of your soulmate in the form of a timer counting down to when you’ll meet. But after being kidnapped by the Riddler, hours before you’re supposed to meet them, you can only pray that the Riddler of all people isn’t your soulmate.

Five hours.

You swayed to the rich sound of your cello, eyes closed, as you shifted your hand down into fourth position. You rested for a beat before going down bow, still doing vibrato even after the piece was done. The audience waited for a sign that you were done with the piece, be it that your hand stopped moving or you physically stood up and told them to clap. Instead, you opened your eyes and smiled as the diners took their cue to start clapping before inclining your head in thanks as you waited for the applause to die down.

It was a normal Saturday at the small but expensive Italian restaurant you performed at. You weren’t supposed to be there since you had requested to take today off but the owner had still put you down to play during half of the two-hour live performance time slot. At the end of the day, money was money and who were you to ever say no to the thousands you always received in tips. After all, you could only think about the new bow you could buy with the money. Which would lead to you sounding better, getting more gigs, and making more money. The process was like a cycle, really.

After the applause stopped and those who were up putting money in your jar had sat down in their seats, you sat back down and started playing Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1, Prelude. You could hear the pianist who was supposed to take over for the rest of the night setting up, his hands flipping through his many copies of sheet music.

Aside from the sounds of cutlery and the wisps of conversation, there was not much noise other than the smooth sound of your cello. But even if there were no noises, something still bothered you.

At first, it wasn’t that bad. You could feel someone staring at you, which was normal since you were performing on a stage with your whole being on display, but it was longer and more intense than normal. Letting your eyes wander around the crowded restaurant, your eyes locked onto a pair of green eyes. You smiled slightly at the young girl before wincing as the slight burning of your wrist got worse. You continued playing, closing your eyes as you tried to ignore the burning of your timer. Your soulmate timer.

You were one of the lucky individuals who had a visible connection to their soulmate. Instead of feeling a spark whenever you touch your soulmate, like your neighbors do, or being able to finally see color when you touch your soulmate, like your parents, you were one of the few lucky ones who could count down to the precise moment when you would meet your soulmate. And that was exactly what you did. When you were thirteen and your parents had explained your soulmate mark to you, the first thing you did was calculate when you would meet your soulmate according to your timer and write it down in your diary.

It was impossible for you to ignore the burning on your wrist, impossible for you to not grin as you played. But your grin was wiped off when you heard glass shatter and a scream.

Four hours.

You had no idea where you were but judging by the smell of the place and the fact that two men wearing green suits with question marks were staring at you, you were not at the restaurant.

‘At least I still have my cello,’ you thought as you pulled against the ropes that tied you against a pillar. The henchmen were talking between themselves as they approached the pillar where you were tied. They started untying you from the pillar and you took this opportunity to suddenly stand up and run.

You heard one of the henchmen curse but you ran in random zigzag lines towards where the door was. It was weird that the henchmen didn’t shoot at you or even attempt to stop you. But you ignored the niggling in the back of your mind. Wrenching the door open, you looked back at where your cello lay and turned back around to walk towards your freedom.

Except it wasn’t your freedom, it was the Riddler in his forest green suit and bowler combo. A rather tacky-looking combo in your opinion but hey, you weren’t going to be the one to break the news to a murderous criminal. He looked up at your sudden entrance and smiled.

“Here she is,” he said, yanking you into the room where the guests of the restaurant were tied onto the seats of an auditorium. You shivered as the cold air hit you and you looked around the room, taking in the TV production set up and the large stage that covered up more than half of the room there.

The Riddler dragged you up onto the stage, and you couldn’t help but wince as the harsh lights burned your eyes.

“What am I doing on stage,” you asked the Riddler as you covered your eyes with your hands. The Riddler’s smile became somehow larger, looking rather comical for a second before becoming more uncomfortable to look at. “Riddle me this,” the Riddler started as he pushed you down onto a chair, “what is it that cannot open any locks and yet has 24 keys?”

Your eyes furrowed in confusion as you rubbed at your wrist, the burning sensation somehow getting worse.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled as a minute passed.

“Well, if you don’t know, why don’t we give you a little motivation to figure out the right answer?”

And with that, the Riddler drew out a gun and pointed it at the closest person seated at the stage, the pianist. At this point, you could hear the sobs wracking through his body and you thought about his elderly parents who depended on him to pay for their surgeries. You don’t know how you could live with his blood on your hands.

“Wait, I have the answer,” you cried out, reaching out to grab the Riddler’s elbow but stopping. Something told you that that wouldn’t be a good idea and he might take that opportunity to shoot you.

“Well, do go on.”

“It’s music,” you said, staring at the deranged man’s face. He broke into peals of laughter, clapping his hands, as he tried to settle himself. It was unnerving how he could flip the switch easily from being a man ready to kill another to laughing as if you were the funniest person on Earth.

“That’s correct. And with that, let us start the games.”

Three hours.

After asking you his initial riddle, the Riddler had quickly set up a broadcast to be shown to all of Gotham, using the footage that one of his henchmen had taken of him questioning you as the intro.

“Batman, I have two riddles for you,” he said, addressing the camera. If you weren’t stuck on stage with two guns pointed at you as you tuned a somewhat cheap cello, you would have sighed. Why couldn’t he also include picture puzzles or something else for once? But you were stuck on stage so you just carefully tuned the instrument, hoping that none of the guards took your movement as you tuned as a sign of your sad attempt at running away.

“There are as many constellations in the sky as there are keys in a piano. What number am I? There you will find the answer to, ‘What is it that makes songs but you will never hear it sing?’ You have an hour to find them before I start playing my little game.”

As if that's your cue, one of the gunmen poked your back and you tensed, surprised by how cold the metal was through your sweater. You quickly quit your tuning and started playing the op. 88, hoping that maybe Batman or Robin would recognize it. It would probably be difficult for them to recognize since they probably weren’t as necessarily as interested in music as you were. And if they were, it’d probably be a little difficult to hear and piece together the piece since you were playing more stiffly than your usual languid movements.

You just hoped that they could understand the Riddler’s riddle and show up to save the night.

Two hours.

An hour has passed of you sitting in your seat playing your cello. Your butt was stiff from the hard chair, your back hurt from your stiff posture, and your wrist was burning pretty badly. At the thought of your wrist, your mind recoiled slightly. What if your soulmate was one of the Riddler’s henchmen? Or the Riddler himself? The thought of it made you want to puke.

“Well Gotham,” the Riddler said, standing in front of the mic as he paused to look dramatically at the camera. “Batman still hasn’t arrived yet so I will be starting my game. And today we have a very special guest that will be playing with me.”

At this, the goons started applauding and you heard a child in the audience cry even louder.

“Our special guest is the one and only (Y/N) (L/N) who has been playing such lovely music for us during our broadcast.”

You sat in your chair, music forgotten as another stage light shone on you.

“Now come on (Y/N), don’t be shy. I know that I’m somewhat of a local celebrity but I don’t bite.”

You shivered under the Riddler’s gaze and got up, trying your best not to stumble as you walked towards him. Your breathing was labored now and the closer you got to the Riddler, the more you felt like you were going to faint.

“(Y/N) here is going to play a simple game. She’s going to play a song that shows up in the cards,” he held up a large stack of index cards and fanned them out on the podium. The crying from the audience became even louder, with ‘Please, no’s mixed in. You turned to watch the small girl from the restaurant being dragged onto the stage, the bright lights highlighting the tears running down her face.

“And if (Y/N) here cannot play the song or if she plays even a single note or rhythm incorrectly, little Bella here will be dunked into this vat of water. For each mistake, she will be kept there for thirty seconds longer.”

You watched in horror as the girl was dragged towards what looked like a giant hole in the ground filled with water. She struggled against her restraints as she cried, her bleary eyes focused on something over your shoulder. You looked over in the corner of your eye and saw the familiar red and yellow of Robin.

As you turned around to shake the Riddler’s hand in acceptance of the rules, you curled your hand in a fist.

“Let the game begin,” he shouted, smiling at the camera before he went to choose a card.

“I’m sorry but we’re going to have to change the rules,” you said before pulling back your fist and punching him in the jaw.

One hour.

You were hiding in the corner of the stage, hidden by the curtains as you tried to untie Bella. The poor girl was trying to hold her sobs in but some still escaped, sounding misplaced in the sounds of Batman and Robin beating the Riddler & co. into oblivion.

You shushed her and tried to twist the rope and push it through the knot when a birdarang flew through the gap of the curtains and sliced your cheek along with the stray strands of hair nearby before hitting the wood paneling behind you. You ignored the blood that was slowly dripping down your face before grabbing the birdarang. You probably grabbed it wrong since it cut the palm of your hand, making you curse under your breath as you started sawing through the multiple knots in the ropes around Bella’s hands and feet.

Once she was free, the little girl tried to get up and run but you grabbed her, putting a finger up to your mouth and cupping a hand behind your ear, whispering “listen.”

You both sat there, listening to the sounds of Robin giggling as he punched someone. You furrowed your brow at that, wondering who exactly was the boy crazy enough to dress up as a traffic signal and fight crime with an equally weird man dressed as a bat.

You slowly started standing up once the sounds of Robin’s laughter had receded before holding a hand out to Bella. The young girl grabbed your hand and you both started edging your way off of the stage area where the fighting was taking place and towards her parents. Batman and Robin were tying people up when you finally found Bella’s father, the sound of the GCPD’s sirens in the background becoming louder and louder as they came closer.

As you and the other hostages made your way out, making sure to jump across the dock to the other side so you don’t fall into the disgusting water down below, you felt someone grab your wrist. You turned and smiled at Bella’s father.

“Why don’t you go and seek some medical assistance?”

“I will sir,” you replied before making your way to the paramedics, letting them fuss over your cuts. You could see Batman speaking to Commissioner Gordon but you couldn’t see Robin near them.

“I think you have something of mine,” Robin said with a grin as he held his hand towards you. You were surprised to see him in front of you but you smiled at him confused.

“I don’t know what you’re…,” you trailed off when you looked down to where he was pointing to see that you were still holding his birdarang.

“Oh. Well, I don’t know… maybe I should keep it. Something to remind me of this day,” you teased as you held up the birdarang so it was eye-level.

“Alright, you can keep it. Just don’t tell Batsie,” he said with a wink, causing you to giggle. “I’m sorry for cutting you.”

“It’s fine,” you said, wincing as the burning on your wrist became worse. Robin also gave out a hiss of pain at the same time as you, causing you to both stare at each other. You reached your hand out towards him slowly, letting your hands ghost over his cheekbones slightly when you felt the telltale cooling sensation of your wrist.

“Let’s go talk somewhere else,” he said, and you nodded, following behind him to an empty alleyway.

“Let me introduce myself again,” he started taking off his mask, “I’m Dick Grayson.”

You were met with the most beautiful pair of lilac-blue eyes, causing you to catch your breath in the back of your throat.

“And I’m (Y/N).”

“Why don’t we get out of here and get to know each other better, princess?”

“I would like that, love bird.”