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pathologicalreid · 18 days

Note

hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:

reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.

Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)

I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3

can you come get me? | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any) word count: 4.56k a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!

Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.

It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.

JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”

Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.

“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.

It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.

Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.

Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.

JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.

Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.

Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.

Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.

Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.

Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.

“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.

Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.

You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.

His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.

Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.

After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”

“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.

A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.

She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”

Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.

Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.

A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”

“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”

The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.

“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.

Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”

He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.

“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.

Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.

Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.

He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”

Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.

For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.

The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.

Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.

Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.

You were silent.

As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.

In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.

Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.

While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.

Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.

The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.

A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.

“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”

He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.

The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.

“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.

While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”

“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.

Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”

Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”

Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”

The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.

Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.

He left that last part out of his message to your father.

As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.

A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.

“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.

Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”

Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.

Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.

You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?

He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.

Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.

The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.

“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.

Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”

Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.

“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”

Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.

Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”

“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.

Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.

He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.

Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.

In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.

Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.

Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.

You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.

Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.

In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.

His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.

With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.

Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.

Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.

He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.

“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”

The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.

Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”

Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”

It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.

“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #margot's requests #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds hurt/comfort

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 1 month

Note

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

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The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter.

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway.

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence.

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan.

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life.

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together.

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you.

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes.

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk.

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop.

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in.

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.”

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.”

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day.

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually.

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid.

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did.

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.”

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner.

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way.

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude.

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.”

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?”

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked.

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“What’d you do this weekend?”

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.”

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?”

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his.

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.”

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of.

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked.

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked.

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.”

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot.

God, you were down bad.

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face.

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed.

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded.

That was all you needed to hear.

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible.

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little.

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting.

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual.

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken.

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.”

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?”

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger.

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.”

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm.

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed.

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece.

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice.

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!”

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his.

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive.

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless.

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

——

read part 2 here

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!baureader

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doctorbitchcrxft · 1 month

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Hook Man | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions of religious trauma/parental abuse

Word Count: 4869

A/N: Guys. We hit a bit of a milestone earlier in the week. Just wanted to say in celebration that I am so beyond grateful for all of your love and support. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! Giving big big kisses to all of you!!! Taglist is open!!

Edit: Hey.... I suck I forgot to add the taglist when I published. So sorry!!! fixed now!!!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You and Dean were sat at an outdoor cafe; coffee cups in hand. He was clacking away at his laptop while you wrote in your journal. You wrote your excerpt on the shapeshifter next to a drawing of Dean’s necklace.

“Is that…?” Dean asked, pointing to your journal.

You nodded.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he said.

“No offense, lovebug, but you don’t know much of anything about me,” you retorted.

He scoffed. “Will you take the compliment and be quiet?”

“I didn’t hear a compliment,” you giggled. “Well, maybe in ‘Dean Winchester Land’ it was a compliment.”

“Oh, shut up,” he responded playfully.

Sam hung up the payphone he was standing in and came back over to your table.

“Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin’ cold over here, Francis,” Dean jabbed at his brother.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” you told him.

“So, anything?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam huffed. “I had ‘em check the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Does fitting Dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.”

“Sam, I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t think Dad wants to be found.”

Sam looked disappointed.

“Check this out.” Dean turned his laptop around to you and Sam. “It’s a news item out of Planes Courier. Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

“Thank god, a short trip,” you sighed.

“ ‘The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road,’ “ Sam read from the article.

“Keep reading.” Dean nodded at his laptop.

“ ‘Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.’ “

That last line caught your attention. “Could be something interesting.”

“Or it could be nothing at all,” Sam protested. “One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.”

“But what if it is? Dad would check it out,” Dean responded.

***

The one hundred mile drive concluded with the boys dropping you off at a sorority house.

“Remind me why I have to play barbies for the week again?” you asked.

“Because this is Lori Sorensen’s sorority house; the witness from the killing,” Sam replied.

“Great,” you mumbled.

“Have fun making s’mores and singing campfire songs,” Dean remarked.

“Bite me,” you snarked. “You’re going to a frat, though, Steve McQueen, so I wouldn’t be so cocky.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he grumbled.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” you said and shouldered your duffel bag. You bid them goodbye and reluctantly marched up to the door of the sorority house.

A girl with long, dark curls opened the door. “Hi,” she said. “Can I… help you?”

“Yeah, I’m (Y/N),” you explained. “I’m your sorority sister from Ohio State. Do you guys have an extra bed I could sleep in? I just transferred here.”

“Sure,” she grinned. “I’m Taylor, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She led you inside and introduced you to Lori Sorensen. She was a sweet girl; very naive and a little stuck-up. Taylor seemed a little more like a party girl, but still relatively tame. You decided you could gel with these girls for the time being.

They told you they were headed to Sunday service at Lori’s father’s church and invited you to go with them. You obliged.

In the middle of the introductory rites, you heard the heavy church door slam shut. Your head swiveled to find Sam and Dean frozen and looking guilty. You scoffed amusedly and rolled your eyes, turning your attention forward for the rest of the service.

Taylor invited you and Lori out to a party after the service, but Lori said she couldn’t. Her father had dinner with her every Sunday since her mother passed away. She and Taylor hugged and Taylor bid you goodbye before heading off.

Sam and Dean came over to you and Lori.

“Guys!” you said excitedly. “Sam, Dean, this is Lori.” You introduced her to them. “They’re my friends from Ohio. They transferred with me.”

“I saw you inside,” she told them.

“We don’t wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and…”

Dean cut his brother off. “We wanted to say how sorry we were.”

You knew where this was going; he was cruising for another hookup.

“I kind of know what you’re going through,” Sam broke back in. “I-I saw someone..get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.”

Lori nodded slightly. Just then, her father came up to your group.

“Dad, um, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). They’re new students.”

Dean shook the reverend’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.”

“Thank you very much,” he smiled. “It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied and began leading him away from Sam and Lori. “Actually, we’re looking for a new church group…”

***

Later that day, you and the boys were sitting together in the local library. Sam relayed to you what Lori had told him about the passing of the guy she was with.

“So, you believe her?” Dean asked him.

“I do,” he nodded.

“Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.” Dean smirked at him.

“You think almost everything with a vagina and legs is hot, Dean,” you remarked.

“Not you,” he jabbed back, still smirking.

You clutched a hand to your chest. “I’m hurt, you dick.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“Can we focus, please?” Sam broke in. “There’s something in her eyes. And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.”

“Wait, the body suspended? That sounds like the—”

Sam cut you off. “Yeah, I know, the Hook Man legend.”

“That’s one of the most famous urban legends ever,” Dean added. “You don’t think that we’re dealing with the Hook Man.”

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began,” said Sam.

“Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn’t a man at all. What if it’s some kind of spirit?”

You had the librarian bring over boxes of arrest records. The three of you poured through pages upon pages for hours.

“Hey, check this out. 1862,” Sam said finally. “A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, ‘some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh.’ “

“Get this, the murder weapon?” Dean was looking at another page. “Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook.”

You pointed to a page in Sam’s book. “Look where all this happened. Nine Mile Road.”

“Same place where the frat boy was killed,” Sam chimed in.

“Nice job, Dr. Venkamen and Annie Potts. Let’s check it out,” the older brother quipped.

The three of you headed to Nine Mile Road. Dean parked off the road in a clearing in the woods. He popped the trunk and handed Sam a shotgun. “Here you go.”

“If it is a spirit, buckshot won’t do much good,” Sam said.

“Yeah, rock salt. It won’t kill ‘em. But it’ll slow ‘em down.” Dean led the three of you through the clearing.

“That’s pretty good. You and Dad think of this?”

“I told you. You don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius.”

“Cool it, Winchester. You and your daddy aren’t the first people to think of rock salt bullets.” You loaded your own gun with shells of your own.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“They’re a bitch to roll,” you said.

“Oh, one hundred percent,” he remarked.

You suddenly heard rustling in the bushes.

“Over there,” you whispered to Sam. The two of you aimed your guns and cocked it.

The “ghost” came out from behind the trees. A sheriff.

‘Dammit.’

“Put the gun down now!” he yelled. “Now! Put your hands behind your head.”

“Wait, wait, okay!” Dean told him.

You immediately dropped your gun and put your hands up.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!”

You three obeyed.

“Now get down on your bellies,” he commanded. “Come on, do it!”

“Are you just on a power trip or something? ‘Cause— ah!” you were cut off by a sharp kick to the shin from Sam.

The sheriff brought the three of you into the station. It was early the next morning by the time you were able to leave.

“Saved your asses!” Dean jeered. “Talked the sheriff down to a fine. I am Matlock.”

“How was it that you were left in charge of talking him down?” You raised a brow at him. “And how in the fuck did you do it?”

“Sweetheart, this may surprise you, but I’m good at my job. And I told him Sam was a dumbass pledge, you were his girlfriend we’d dragged along, and we were hazing you.”

You and Sam both recoiled at the idea of dating each other.

“First of all, ew,” you started, “No offense, Sam.”

“None taken.”

“But what about the shotguns?”

“I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank.”

“And he believed you?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, Sam looks like a dumbass pledge.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You stuck your tongue out at Sam.

Moments later, several officers ran out of the building to their cruisers. Barely needing to share a look with the boys, you hurried into the car and sped away to follow them.

You could see Lori wrapped in a disposable blanket in front of the sorority house you were staying in. You weren’t exactly sure what was going on, but you had no doubt that it was another murder. The stretcher carrying a body bag rolling out of the front door affirmed that thought seconds later.

Dean parked the Impala around the back of the house.

“Why would the Hook Man come here?” Sam asked as the three of you crept around the building. “This is a long way from Nine Mile Road.”

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s about something else,” Dean suggested.

You pulled his arm back seconds later to avoid being seen by your “sorority sisters.” You used the fact that you had now pretty much pulled yourself in front of him to allow you to lead the way up to the second floor.

While Dean made a stupid joke about a naked pillow fight, Sam was busy giving you a boost before climbing up himself. You looked back down at the ground to see Dean struggling to find his footing.

“Need help?” you smirked.

“No,” he grumbled.

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

You waited patiently, leaning your head in your hands on the railing of the balcony and smiling down at him. He struggled for a few more moments before he conceded. All he did was open and close his hand he was extending upwards, similar to a toddler asking to be picked up.

“What’s the magic word?” you sing-songed.

“Come on!” he hissed. “Please?”

“There we go,” you smiled. You dug your heels into the ground and pulled him up.

You then realized the window you were entering was the one in Lori and Taylor’s closet. You hoped to god in that moment that Taylor wasn’t the one dead.

Your fears were realized, however, when you entered Lori and Taylor’s room to find the words “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?” crudely etched into the wall above Taylor’s blood soaked bed. You didn’t exactly get attached to people on hunts, but seeing good people die was never easy for you. It didn’t get easier. Your dad would call you soft, but you always liked to look at your compassion as a strength.

“ ‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?’ That’s right out of the legend,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man all right.” Dean tapped his nose as he spoke. “It’s definitely a spirit.”

“Yeah, I’ve never smelled ozone this strong before,” Sam muttered.

“(Y/N), you okay?” Dean asked you.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah. Fine. It’s just… look at this symbol.” You were referencing the one beneath the writing. “Does that look familiar to you?”

Your head jerked toward the sound of footsteps approaching. You quickly shooed Sam and Dean back into the closet and out of the house. Thankfully, you made it back to the car without being seen. You pulled the copy you’d made at the library of one of the pages on Jacob Karns out of the backseat. That was where you had seen the cross symbol; on Karns’s hook.

You showed it to the boys. “Told ya.”

“Alright, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down,” Dean said.

Sam took the page from your hand. “ ‘After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery. In an unmarked grave.’ “ He flicked the page with his finger, looking aggravated; as were you and Dean.

“Super,” the older brother muttered.

“Ok. So we know it’s Jacob Karns. But we still don’t know where he’ll manifest next. Or why,” Sam pointed out.

“I could just be spitballing here, but Lori definitely has something to do with it,” you said, looking up at the sorority house.

***

You managed to get into a party at the fraternity house Sam and Dean were staying in later that night. Dean had been busy mingling with thin college girls dressed in mini skirts while Sam stuck to the outside wall. You bounced around from talking to Sam and hustling some of the drunk frat guys in multiple rounds of pool.

The three of you reunited around the pool table you’d been dominating that night.

“Man, you’ve been holding out on me,” Dean told Sam. “This college thing is awesome!” He smiled and winked at a passing girl.

Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. “This wasn’t really my experience.”

“Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A’s?”

Sam nodded. You chortled.

“What a geek. Alright, you do your homework?”

“Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori? So I think I came up with something.” Sam unfolded a piece of paper.

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage,” Dean read.

Your eyebrows knitted together.

“There’s a pattern here,” Sam explained. “In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out— get this— with a sharp instrument.”

“What’s the connection to Lori?” Dean asked.

“Her dad. Man of religion who openly preaches against immorality,” you pointed out. “Maybe this time, though, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his kid.”

“Reverend Sorensen,” Dean tsked. “You think he’s summoning the spirit?”

“Maybe it’s like when a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place,” you suggested.

“Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.”

“Without the reverend ever even knowing it,” Sam chimed in.

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight,” Dean told his brother.

“What about you?”

Dean looked over to the opposite side of the pool table where the blonde you’d been playing with smiled at him. He reluctantly said, “(Y/N) and I are gonna go see if we can find that unmarked grave.”

“We are? I wanted to play more eight-ball,” you told him.

He looked back over at the blonde, back at you, and shook his head in disappointment. “C’mon. I’m not happy about it either.”

***

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go back?” you asked Dean as the two of you trudged through the Old North Cemetery. You were holding shovels and flashlights searching for the grave of Jacob Karns.

He shot you a look.

“I know, I know, I’m kidding,” you laughed. “But seriously. Now that we’re… acquaintances, we should go out to a bar sometime. Preferably one with a pool table.”

“That’d be cool, actually,” he said, smirking at you. “You’re pretty good.”

“What, at pool?”

He nodded. “I could probably still kick your ass, though.”

“You’re on, pretty boy.”

He stopped and turned to you. “Don’t objectify me.”

“What?” you asked, stopping next to him. “You know you’re gorgeous. You frequently use it to your advantage.” You marched on.

You smiled when you heard him mutter, “You are so confusing, woman.”

You walked for a few more minutes before your flashlight landed on a grave marked with that cross symbol from Taylor’s room. “Jackpot.”

You and Dean set to work exhuming Jacob’s corpse. Your back and shoulders ached more and more the deeper you dug. “How fucking far down is six feet?” you remarked breathlessly.

“I don’t know, but next time, I get to watch the cute girl’s house,” he replied.

“Aw, you don’t wanna spend quality time with this cute girl?” you asked playfully.

He eyed you strangely with a lopsided smile.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing. You’re just funny,” he told you.

You smiled back and got back to digging. Your shovel finally hit the wooden box lying below. You broke through it to reveal his corpse. Or at least, what remained of it.

“Hello, preacher,” Dean said. He threw his shovel aside and helped you out of the hole you had dug. After he had climbed out, you poured salt and lighter fluid all over the bones.

“Goodbye, preacher.” Dean threw a match down into the grave.

Your nose twisted up in disgust. “I will never get used to that smell.”

“What, burnt, hundred-year-old preacher? Me neither.”

You and Dean packed up and headed back to the car that was parked in the cemetery’s parking lot. Your body was exhausted.

“Um, weird question,” you started.

He turned to you and threw his shovel and duffel bag in the trunk.

“You think we could sleep in your car for a bit? I’m running on two days of no sleep.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It should all be over now and Sam should be layin’ it down with Lori.”

And so, you did. You stretched out over the backseat, and Dean laid down on the front. A few moments of silence passed between the two of you, and strangely, you no longer felt tired. You supposed it was the strangeness of the situation. You were now sharing a somewhat intimate moment with a man you despised just weeks prior. You weren’t quite sure where your relationship with Dean was heading, and that bothered you a bit.

“Dean?”

“Hm.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

***

Four hours of shut-eye later, you felt recharged. You awoke to the sound of Dean’s phone vibrating over which Sam told you to meet him at a hospital.

“Hospital? Why? Is he okay?” you asked Dean, climbing over the front seat to sit shotgun.

“I think so, but he said the reverend’s hurt.”

About fifteen minutes later, you were walking down a long corridor only to be stopped by two cops in wide-brimmed hats.

The sheriffs put a hand to Dean’s chest to stop him.

“No, it’s alright, we’re with him. He’s my brother,” he explained. “Hey! Brother!” he called, waving dorkishly at Sam.

“Let them through.”

“Thanks.”

You and Dean began walking toward Sam, who met you in the middle.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” sighed Sam.

“What the hell happened?”

“Hook Man.”

You looked incredulous. “You saw him?”

“Damn right. Why didn’t you torch the bones?” Sam responded.

“We did,” you rebutted, confused. “You sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns?”

“It sure as hell looked like him,” Sam returned. “And that’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching on to the reverend.”

“Well, duh, he wouldn’t send Hook Man after himself,” you remarked.

“I think it’s latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.” He whispered that last part.

“Damn.” You gritted your teeth. “I could see how that could upset her.”

Sam nodded. “She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.”

“Ok, so she’s conflicted,” Dean chimed in. “And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he’s doing the punishing for her, huh?”

“Right,” the younger brother nodded. “Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair.”

“Remind me not to piss this girl off,” Dean muttered. “But we burned those bones, buried them in salt, why didn’t that stop him?”

“We must’ve missed something,” you said.

“No, we burned everything in that coffin.”

“Did you get the hook?” Sam asked the two of you.

Realization struck you. “Fuck,” you grumbled. “No.”

“Why does that matter?” Dean asked.

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him,” Sam told him.

“So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power.”

“So if we find the hook—”

The three of you finished Sam’s sentence in unison, grinning. “We stop the Hook Man.”

“Well, back to the drawing board,” you said as the three of you began walking away from the reverend’s hospital room.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“Do you know where the hook is?” you raised your eyebrows at him.

He said nothing.

“Exactly,” you giggled.

***

Your next stop was the library for the second time this hunt. As much as you liked to read, obnoxious amounts of research was not your thing. Finally, you thought you’d found something. “Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary. ‘Karns, Jacob. Personal effects: disposition thereof.’ “

“Does it mention the hook?” Sam asked you.

“I don’t know. ‘Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner’s house of worship, St. Barnabas Church,’ “ you read aloud. “That’s where Lori’s dad preaches.”

“Where Lori lives, too?” Sam asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

“Maybe that’s why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends’ daughters for the past two hundred years,” Dean added.

“Yeah, but I think someone would’ve noticed a blood-stained, silver-handled hook hangin’ around the church or Lori’s house.”

Dean pulled out another book and slapped it down in front of you. “Check the church records.”

Sam pulled the book to sit between the two of you. You and he flipped through pages upon pages of records before he found something. “ ‘St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged.’ “ He sighed. “They melted it down. Made it into something else.”

“Goddammit,” you grumbled.

Later that night, you and the boys returned to St. Barnabas Church. Dean shouldered a duffel bag and began leading you to the church. Sam followed close behind.

“Alright, we can’t take any chances,” the older brother began. “Anything silver goes in the fire.”

“I agree. So, Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in,” Sam added.

“Okay, take your pick,” you told him.

“I’ll take the house,” Sam responded.

“Dean and I will take the church, then.”

“We will?” the older brother asked.

“Yup.”

You led Dean up to the church. He called back to his brother. “Hey. Stay out of her underwear drawer.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice and giggled.

You took the top floor of the church while Dean scoured the basement. The two of you, along with Sam, met up in the furnace room.

“I got everything that even looked silver,” Sam told you.

“Better safe than sorry,” Dean said.

Your head turned upward at the sound of footsteps. You could hear Dean taking his gun from his jacket as you grabbed yours.

“Move, move,” Dean told you quietly.

You crept up the stairs as quietly as possible. When you got back to the ground floor, you could see Lori hunched over, her shoulders shaking. You lowered your gun and lightly pushed Sam forward. He shot you a look, but headed over to Lori anyway. You and Dean went back downstairs to continue melting the silver.

“I feel for her,” you said quietly. “I know how much religion can fuck you up.” Silver clanked against the coals in the furnace as you spoke.

Dean turned his head to you. “You do?”

You nodded. “I’ve watched so many people go through crisis after crisis when their loved ones end up dead.”

“Me too,” he said earnestly. “Probably why I don’t pray.”

“Well, it’s a little difficult to believe in a higher power when all day, everyday is blood, guts, and monsters,” you remarked.

He chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t know if I’ve met one religious hunter.”

“I have,” you said. “My mom.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was somehow still convinced of ‘God’s plan.’ “

“Catholic?”

“Oh, very.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied playfully.

“Yeah, me too,” you smiled. “My dad wasn’t, but, uh, he had his… other issues.”

Before he could ask further questions, you heard commotion upstairs. It sounded like running heading toward the opposite side of the basement.

“C’mon,” Dean urged, sprinting out of the furnace room with his gun in hand. You followed closely behind. You could hear the breaking of boards and slamming of what you assumed were bodies that practically shook the walls that got louder as you got closer. Sam was maneuvering himself behind the Hook Man’s clunkily-moving apparition.

Dean gruffly called to his brother, “Sam, drop!”

His brother obeyed and Dean shot the Hook Man, who disappeared.

“I thought we got all the silver,” you said.

“So did I,” the older brother answered.

“Then why is he still here?” Sam’s voice was frantic.

“Well, maybe we missed something!”

You looked around and noticed Lori’s cross necklace. “Lori, where did you get that chain?”

“My father gave it to me,” she responded nervously.

“Where’d your dad get it?” Sam asked.

“He said it was a church heirloom,” she answered quickly. “He gave it to me when I started school.”

“Is it silver?!”

“Yes!”

Sam ripped the chain off her and threw it to you. You caught it with ease and went to start running back down the hall when the invisible Hook Man started dragging his hook along the wall.

You threw Sam your gun and started running down another corridor you hoped would bring you to the same destination. You could vaguely hear Dean say to his brother, “I’ll cover (Y/N), shoot anything that moves!” before you heard approaching quick footsteps behind you.

You sprinted down winding hallways and thankfully quickly made it to the furnace room. You threw the necklace into the fire and watched as it slowly began to melt. “C’mon, c’mon,” you muttered anxiously. It took longer than you would’ve liked, but the cross broke off the necklace and burned into ash. As soon as it did, you and Dean ran back to the latter’s brother to make sure the ghost was gone. Thankfully, he had, but Sam seemed injured. He was clutching his left shoulder and wincing.

You called the police to the scene and urged them to send an ambulance. They arrived in no time, and Sam was able to get his injury patched up.

“And you saw him, too?” A sheriff was asking you and writing in a notepad. “The man with the hook?”

“Yeah, we all saw him,” you responded. “We fought him off and then he ran.”

“And that’s all?” The sheriff was skeptical.

“Yes, sir.”

“Listen. You and those two boys—”

Dean came up behind you and answered for you. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re leaving town.”

You laughed at his response. Sam and Lori talking near the ambulance caught your eye. You continued watching them in the rearview mirror once you’d gotten in the backseat of the car. Sam soon left Lori, who looked after him sadly, and stooped down into the car.

“We could stay,” Dean suggested.

You could tell Sam wanted to, but he shook his head. A deflated air had settled over the car, but you knew the younger Winchester wasn’t ready for anything yet. He’d been dating Jessica for a year and a half and had just lost her less than four months ago. You knew he needed more time. The best way you knew to comfort him was to wrap your hands around his shoulders gently, minding his injury, from your place in the backseat. He tensed for a moment, but allowed you to hug him nonetheless. He responded by holding your arm with his good hand. And for a moment, if you closed your eyes, it was almost like hugging Steven again.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernaturals series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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sunkissed-zegras · 8 months

Text

✮ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐢 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞. 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | prologue jump then fall au

au masterlist! masterlist!

♡ ─ word count | 1.7k

♡ ─ summary | adam was resisting the idea of hiring a nanny despite luca's insistence that paloma needed one. they met with a potential nanny who had good credentials and reviews. they decided that cece may be the right person to care for paloma, even if it would take time for adam to fully trust her.

♡ ─ warnings | mention of a troubled past, the hard time opening up, nothing else really!

♡ ─ taglist | TBD! let me know if you want to be in the JUMP THEN FALL AU!

♡ ─ ev's notes | oh my gosh, i haven't been this excited for an AU in a while. i have been so de-motivated for so long and i'm so happy that i'm finally back on my grind LMAO!! but on another note, thank you v @drysdalesv for helping me with this au, i love you and you're so amazing and creative HEHHEHEH. anyway, enjoy!!!

"Adam, come on." Luca sighed as he leaned his head back in annoyance. "She's two, she can't survive on her own and you can't take her to every practice, or game."

Adam sat on the couch of his brand-new apartment as he listened to his brother trying to convince him to get him a nanny. He's been trying ever since the move and he understood why but he wasn't sure he was ready. "People are weird these days, Luca, I'm not gonna just hire someone off the street-"

"Adam, there are websites, background checks and so much more. You're not gonna hire some random person to take of her, I get it, but what do you expect?"

Adam, torn between his protective instincts and the practicality of the situation, sighed. "I know, Luca, I just… I've never been comfortable with the idea of strangers around Paloma. She's my everything."

Luca leaned forward, his voice gentle but firm. "Look, I get it, man. But we can't do this alone. You've got a career to focus on, and I've got my own life to manage, I can't be driving up here everyday and mom and dad have their work. We both love her, but we can't be with her 24/7."

Adam ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. He knew Luca was right, Paloma was his top priority, and his hockey career demanded a lot of his time. It was his dream but he had to make sacrifices sometimes.

"I know, I know. It's just… What if something happens? What if the nanny isn't right for her?" He's heard the stories of those crazy nannies who abuse their power and doesn't even know what he'd do if anything like that happened to Paloma.

Luca put a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "We'll find someone who's perfect for her, someone we can trust. And we'll be there to oversee everything. Paloma deserves a chance to socialize, learn, and grow."

Adam nodded, the corners of his lips lifting slightly as he scoffed playfully. "You always know how to talk me into things, Luca."

Luca grinned happily. "That's what brothers are for, right?"

Adam glanced at his draft photo on the wall, picture of him holding Paloma in his arms, both of them wearing matching smiles on the second best day of his life. It was a simple reminder that Paloma's happiness and well-being were his top priorities. And the more he thought about it he realized that maybe, just maybe, he could find someone who would fit perfectly into their little family.

"Alright, Luca. Let's start looking for a nanny."

──

The air was warm and the scent of flowers filled the outside area of the Cafe Adam had chosen to meet with the new nanny one of his new teammates had told him about. She was around his age, maybe a bit younger, and was currently a student at Ohio State. She seemed like an ideal fit, with a schedule that matched Adam's needs—available Monday through Saturday from 9 am to 2 pm, perfect for morning practices. She also had many positive reviews from previous employers.

Seated outside, Luca observed his brother, who repeatedly checked his phone. Luca couldn't help but let out a soft sigh. "What?"

"She's late," Adam replied, his anxiety evident. He was usually laid back but right now, Luca could tell he was nervous.

"Since when do you care about punctuality? And it's rush hour, she's probably stuck in traffic." Luca replied as he tried to calm the boy down. She was the fifth nanny they'd met with in the span of a few weeks and he still hasn't found a match. Practice was going to start next week and this girl just had to be the right fit or he wouldn't know what else to do.

Adam tried to calm his nerves, playing with his keychain to try and calm his nerves. "Yeah, you're probably right. I just want this to work out, you know? Paloma deserves the best."

With an encouraging smile, Luca affirmed, "And she'll get it, Adam. We'll find the perfect fit for her, someone who'll love her like we do."

Adam nodded, appreciating his brother's reassuring words. He knew Luca was right; they would eventually find the perfect caregiver for Paloma, someone who would care for her as if she were their own.

Just as Adam was about to voice his concerns about the potential nanny's tardiness again, the cafe's entrance door chimed, and a young woman stepped inside. She scanned the outdoor seating area, her gaze locking onto the table where Adam and Luca sat. With a friendly smile, she approached them, her demeanor friendly and sweet.

She was pretty; that was the first thing Adam thought as he looked at her. She had a backpack on and it was obvious she had just come from a lecture, she looked the tiniest bit of tired but Adam thought that made her somewhat more attractive.

"Adam, Luca?" she inquired, her voice warm and welcoming. "I'm so sorry for being a little late, I got stuck in traffic on the way here."

Adam couldn't deny that Cece had a certain charm about her, and he appreciated her honesty. "No worries, Cece," he replied, offering her a warm smile. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Adam, and this is my brother, Luca."

Luca also greeted her with a friendly nod and smile. "Good to meet you, Cece."

Cece settled into the chair across from them, her backpack placed beside her. She seemed at ease, and her friendly demeanor put Adam's initial concerns to rest. It was important that the person they chose to care for Paloma was not only qualified but also someone she could feel comfortable around. The fact that Cece had come straight from a lecture also signaled to Adam that she was hardworking, which he appreciated.

"So, you go to Ohio State?" Luca mumbled playfully as he looked down at his Michigan sweatshirt. Cece let out a soft laugh at that and nodded.

"Yup, buckeye through and through." Cece faked a southern accent which made them both let out a soft chuckle, "Well not really. My entire family has went to Michigan, I'm the first to break the tradition."

As the conversation flowed, Adam couldn't help but steer it towards the topic that mattered most to him—Paloma. He had to know if Cece could connect with his daughter. With a warm smile, he began, "So, Cece, have you worked with toddlers before?"

Cece nodded, "Yeah I have. I worked with a toddler last year but they moved. I also have a little brother and some nieces and nephews.” A smile engulfed her face as she mentioned her family and Adam couldn’t help but be drawn to her genuine warmth.

"That's wonderful," Adam replied, his own smile growing. "Family means everything to us, and Paloma is like our little princess."

Luca chimed in, "She's a sweet kid, but she's been through a lot. We want to make sure she's comfortable with whoever takes care of her." Adam couldn’t help but stiffen at the mention of their hardships. He looked down at the table.

Cece sensed the change in the atmosphere as soon as Luca mentioned Paloma's hardships. She couldn’t help but wonder exactly what those were but she wasn’t going to ask anytime soon, it was obvious the wound was still fresh.

"I understand," she said softly, her voice filled with empathy. "Paloma's comfort and happiness will be my top priorities. I'll do my best to create a safe and loving environment for her, so she can heal and thrive."

Adam, still struggling with the memories of the past year, nodded slowly. It was difficult for him to open up about their challenging journey and even Luca still didn’t know the entire story with him and his ex.

Luca placed a reassuring hand on Adam's shoulder, silently letting him know that they were in this together, and that Cece might just be the right person to help them move forward as a family.

Adam leaned forward, "That's what we want, someone who can give her love and security. She's the most important thing in my life." Cece could tell how much Adam loves Paloma and she admired that. Her gaze softened as he spoke, it was so heartwarming seeing a father so involved with his daughter.

Cece met Adam's gaze with sincerity. "I promise you, Adam, Luca, I'll put my heart into making sure Paloma feels loved and safe."

In that moment, as they discussed their shared commitment to Paloma's well-being, Adam felt a sense of hope he hadn't felt in a long time. Cece's warm and genuine personality made him believe that they might have found the perfect person to care for his daughter. Sure, it’d take a while for her to fully gain his trust, (if ever), but he had hope for them.

As their conversation came to a close, Cece, still smiling warmly, glanced at her phone. "I hate to cut it short, but I have to head to my next class soon. Is there anything else you'd like to ask or talk about before I have to leave?"

Adam exchanged a quick look with Luca, silently before nodding. With a smile, he replied, "No, Cece, I think we're good. Thank you for coming to meet with us, and for your willingness to be a part of Paloma's life."

Cece's smile widened, and she stood up, picking up her backpack. "It was my pleasure, Adam. I'm really looking forward to getting to know her better.”

As Cece left the cafe, Luca turned to Adam with a grin. "I think we found our nanny, Adam."

Adam chuckled, a weight lifted off his shoulders. "Yeah, I think so too. She’s good.”

“That’s all you’re gonna say? She’s perfect, Adam.” He chuckled as he picked up the water and took a sip. “And she’s just your type.”

Adam rolled his eyes and groaned at Luca’s insinuation as he laughed. He wasn’t wrong, she is exactly his type and not just on paper, she was sweet and caring and- Adam stopped himself before he got too ahead of himself. “Remember what we both said not even two weeks ago?”

“No girls,” they said in unison and Luca let out a dramatic sigh. They had to focus on family and hockey, their main priorities before getting into any serious relationships. It was mostly Adam, though - after what happened with his ex he felt as if he couldn’t even think about relationships. Hockey and his family, more importantly Paloma, were his top priorities and love was simply a distraction. Right now, at least.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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samstclair · 8 months

Text

Tommy Shelby's Barmaid

Tommy Shelby X Reader

Anonymous Request -

Good morning/afternoon/evening/night Sammy Sammy yes I am! So check this out - I just saw Oppenheimer and came to the conclusion that I really miss seeing Cillian Murphy's face. So that night I began rewatching Peaky Blinders and am just in awe. So you know the point. I want to be his barmaid. No hate to Grace, love her, but let a girl just imagine. And that's where you come in. So yeah I wanna be his barmaid and sing to him. Maybe we're off to the races? Do your thing or else I'll might do a thing and report your account! :)

Word Count: pretty long

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And where are we off to, Miss?"

"One ticket to London, please!" you told the airport cashier, (or whatever they're called I'm not sure tbh), with your gleeful, bimbo smile. "The UK, one, thought. Not the Ohio one! Can't have that happening again!"

The lady didn't respond, she instead gave you a soft customer service fake ass laugh pretending she knew full well what you were talking about and kept her eyes down on the computer, securing that flight. You no longer trusted yourself to use computers or laptops, thanks to those Benadryl pills you used to be addicted to. But now that you were evicted from your New York apartment, you lost those pills in the process, and honestly all of your personal shit, so you've been forced to quit cold turkey and was actually experiencing withdrawals at the very moment. But, you couldn't let anyone know this! You needed to leave America fast.

"Okay, to confirm your name, Y/L/N, Y/F/N, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am!" You passed her your credit card and she did her magic, charging you a fuck ton of money!

The printer pooped out your ticket and she passed both that and your card back to you.

"Enjoy your flight. Safe travels," the lady wished you.

"Oh my god, girl, you too!" you wished back. You turned around and found your terminal, buying an expensive Starbucks drink of your choice and plopping your big butt down on a chair. You sat and looked around, sipping your coffee like a mother, taking in your surroundings of this little JFK airport they got going on.

"I'm really a world traveler right now...like, I'm on some Lewis and Clark shit right now," you thought to yourself.

You looked down at your luggages, or perhaps, just luggage. All that remained after your eviction just filled one Hello Kitty-themed suitcase you bought from TJ Maxx. You also had your rare vintage Juicy Couture purse you bought from Depop, thats faux leather was literally peeling off like dead skin, filled with all your essentials - lip gloss, nearly dead Elf Bar, crumpled up two-year-Goodwill old receipts, wired headphones because that's what cool people use walking down the street, crystals, loose hair ties, a baby Calico Critter, wire-exposed phone charger, and more that aren't too important to mention. You did miss all your other knick knacks and items that were lost, but since you were traveling light you 1. saved more money since it was just carry-on and 2. looked mysterious, just a girl on the road on her own adventure.

"After all, items are just like - items. Things." you thought, trying to convince yourself that all material items are just not real and people don't really need those things. This is what you repeated to yourself over and over but in all honesty it wasn't helping. You were fucking pissed you lost all your shit.

With all your items was your go-to airport fit - a Juicy baby blue tracksuit. So now you resorted to old PJ's you had shoved to the bottom depths of your drawer, wrinkled to the house boots down and forgotten of existence. They were a pair of Nike shorts and a baby tee that read "I <3 Surfer Boys". You then looked down to your white Crocs with the knock-off Jibblitz - the ootd would just have to do.

As you sat in your terminal, waiting, you thought about what adventures UK would bring to you. You wondered what people you'd encounter, what new storylines you'd get wrapped into, what NPCs would say to you - it really did feel like you were fast-traveling into another country in a video game.

Safe to say, you were ready for liftoff! Whenever that liftoff! would be because your flight was delayed like three times cause that's just airport things! This was the start of a new adventure! New and humble beginnings! No more America and their never-ending obsession with you committing financial fraud or whatever the IRS loved to say! But never mind that don't ask don't PUSH!!!!!!

Some hours later, you were finally able to board your flight. By this time, let's just say - people were fucking pissed about their flight being delayed, but you didn't really mind it. Yes, you were in a big time rush to leave America as soon as possible, but all that time waiting allowed you to finish the only downloaded show on your phone: LPS Popular. Shit was finally getting heated, Savannah Reed was def the no nonsense type of girl you envisioned yourself to be.

Anyway whatever you boarded on, took your window seat and went through the usual bullshit of waiting for everyone to board on and take off and turbulence and random ass baby crying and shitty food and whatever.

About a half hour in the sky, you looked through the catalogue of movies available - none which caught your interest.

However, after scrolling for another half hour - you found the one.

"Oh my god, a movie about two lovers flying in the sky staring Cillian Murphy and Rachel McAdams?!" you thought excitedly. "That's some good shit right there."

You hit that play button, scooted deeper into that seat, propped your patas up, and was subsequently locked IN for the short ass movie Red Eye.

The majority of the plot went over your head because you were to entranced with the Irish actor's cunty little face, sassy little attitude and blue big orbs for eyes, causing you to replay certain scenes over and over. (Specifically that bathroom scene. You didn't miss SHIT there). That hour and a half passed by and the movie had finished. Safe to say, you were NOT expecting any of that shit to go down.

"If that were me, I'd call that fucking hotel before he even told me to. Shit. I get Mark Wahlberg, if I was on that plane, things really would have gone differently," you thought, shaking your head. ]

After your almost seven hour flight, you had finally made it to London Town. It was indeed a stormy day, he was right, but you could go outside and roam around, contrary to popular belief. In order to prep for this trip, you stuck to just watching British films, trying to get an overall vibe of what those little redcoats were like. Pride and Prejudice (2005), Love Actually, Trainspotting, Little Women (Greta's version), Clockwork Orange, Barry Lyndon - let's just say, your Letterboxd was going crazy. You sobbed pretty disgustingly to all of them, except Trainspotting and Clockwork, which made you feel just icky. And Barry Lyndon just made you angry fuck that guy fr.

A/N - I just realized that Little Women, both Greta's version and the older 90s Winona Ryder one take place, in FACT, America. Oops! So yeah disregard move on u horndog <3

You once thought you were well-rounded on what chaos was, after all, you've been 1. in theater school, 2. briefly in the Medellin cartel, 3. worked in corporate America - but all of those experiences looked like fun Sunday pastimes the moment you stepped your fat butt off of the plane into London's Heathrow airport. Nothing could've prepped you for this shit. Too many people all doing different things in different directions was NOT your favorite place to be in! Let's just say - shit was hectic.

You boarded off, left your terminal and gathered your one Hello Kitty-themed suitcase and bolted the fuck out, running at your highest speed possibly, your Crocs locked in their sports mode, you just ran. It's what you did best, your superpower some might say. Maybe since Ezra Miller is canceled for being a kidnapper, you could possibly replace the Flash? Who knows tbh.

You ran so fast, miles and miles, (kilometers here!), you didn't realize you were now standing in front of the Big Ben. It was, admittedly, pretty big. Too bad you couldn't read time like that.

You looked down to your phone to see your receipt - you needed to be back in three hours for your next flight to Glasgow, Scotland - your actual destination. This London shit? Yeah it was only a layover. But you couldn't miss it.

You ended up missing it. You fell asleep on the big red bus, thinking you could sneak a little tour in before having to return for your next flight. By the time you woke up, it was morning, and you were alone, just you and your carry on.

"Ello Miss? Miss?"

Your eyes fluttered, adjusting to the brightness. A big English dude with missing and fucked up teeth was poking you awake.

"Bro what?" you muttered, pushing yourself up.

"Miss, it seems you've drifted off to sleep," the man said.

"Wait," you collected your thoughts, looked around at your surroundings, then down to your phone - your flight was seven hours ago. You felt your heart fall to the acidic pits of your stomach -

"Ain't no fucking way I'm stuck in London", you blurted out. "AIN'T NO FUCKING WAY!"

As if you took ten shots of DayQuil, you jumped up, scrambled for your shit and rocked the bus side to side as your Crocs took you across it, out to the exit and back onto the cobblestone streets of London Town. It was cloudy as always.

"Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh no. NO I CAN'T DO THIS I CAN'T!" you yelled, running back towards the direction of that hell of an airport. You needed to get back. You NEEDED to get back to Scotland, you literally saw Trainspotting just for Scotland!

But alas, it was too late. By the time you made it back to Heathrow, there was no refunding. You would have to pay another fat BUCK to get on another flight.

"Oh fuck that," you told the English lady. You walked back out, no way this little kingdom was gonna make a profit off of your ass. "I'd rather walk!"

And then you began to walk. Not run, you were a little hungry and needed some energy for that amount of dedication.

You stopped by a tea place and thought that you might as well have a crumpet or whatever, which sucked ass. They charged so much for what? A pastry with like three grams of sugar? Girl bye.

You sat on the curb, looking down at your phone and opening a map, you could literally just walk to Scotland. Yeah it'd be a pretty fat walk, but you might get a crazy BBL ass for free from all the walking.

"Babes? Are you alroight?" you heard a strong British voice call. You turned and there it was - a chav. A real fucking chav.

"Oh my god, you guys exist?"

She furrowed her dark over-filled brows as she smacked her nude-lipsticked lips on a piece of gum. There were other chavs behind her, all bleach blonde, overly tan and red ass cheeks. It was like your friend group, but in an alternate universe.

"Wot?" she asked again, more confused than offended.

"Listen girl, I don't know if you can tell - but I'm not from here. I need to get to from the UK to Scotland. How does a girl like me do that?"

"Babes? Yor in the UKay, loike, this is London?"

"Huh?" you asked, like Trisha Paytas in the car.

"Babes," another chimed in, "the UKay is loike, mooltiple places poot into one? Loike, England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales -"

"Oh, so they're all like, the same?"

Their faces dropped with fear.

"Babes, don't say that. I've just met you, but I'd definitely tell you loike, don't say that around other peepol," the main chav warned.

"Especially the Irish, yeah," another said. "They'd be mentool."

"Oh, no worries here. I'm an ally to all," you assured, "so do you know where I can rest for the night?"

"Babes!" the chav said excitedly, "I've got family in Birmingham! It's up norf, already on the way for yor travels! I'll text me nana so you can stay there fo free!"

"Babes," you said, you're cheap frugal ass getting hyped, "you're such a babe! Thanks girlie!"

You ended up dropping some money to take an Underground from London to Birmingham, because you then really realized your Crocs could only momentarily take you so far. Also, tat withdrawal wasn't doing you any favors. Anyway you enjoyed the ride, drinking some complimentary tea with your headphones in and disassociating as you looked out the window into the cement walls. You started to regret not bringing some sort of sweater because who would've thought a baby tee and Nike shorts would be enough. Shit was chilly.

You stepped off into the platform, feeling a strong GUST of wind rush past you. You first kinda enjoyed it like it was some sort of main character moment, but the moment that ghastly smell of smoke hit your nostrils - you went frozen like Mitch McConnell.

"Jeeeeeesus CHRIST!" you bellowed, "who fucking farted?"

You looked around, but soon became even more confused. Everyone was giving you the hardest stares you've ever received in your lifetime. But it wasn't their stares, no, you've been stared at before for worst things, it was cause of their - fits.

Everyone was dressed like some 1900s shit. It reminded you of the show Downton Abbey, the show your old boss Logan Roy used to binge. Little particles of what looked like dandruff floated around you and everything else just seemed gray.

"Wait, are you guys filming?" you asked in your bimbo self, smiling, "did I just walk onto set?"

No one replied. They really thought you were insane. There you were - rough looking, mid-withdrawal, I <3 Surfer Boys, old high school Nike shorts, Crocs, Five Below socks, Dollar Store sunnies, Hello Kitty-themed suitcase and Juicy bag, Elf bar in one hand and your phone with dangling earbuds wrapped around it. They were petrified.

You grew angry. You just stood there as they stood there too - both you and the Downton Abbey cosplayers were in a stand off.

"Okay whatever," you said, rolling your eyes. "Stay hating!"

You whipped around and began walking down the pavement, calling, or as the English say "ringing", that chav's nana. However, it rang and rang, you dialed and dialed, the lady was not picking up.

"Um, what the fuck?" you said looking down at your phone, "can this girl pick up?"

You continued to dial, your other hand to your waist like a Karen. You continued to look around as it rang, really impressed with the set.

It had been very foggy, and the cobblestone roads led down between old brick buildings where people in their 1920's costumes walked along, smoking and dodging the occasional explosion from the coal-burning coming from inside the buildings. Horses were trotting, carrying hay and other shit. People were yelling in their crazy accents and the dandruff kept raining down. Pillars up in the sky let out dark clouds of smoke. That gross exhaust smell still lingered, and no matter how much Nicki Minaj body spray you put on yourself, there was no way to mask it.

"Great. I'm homeless AGAIN!" you thought, giving up on that nana. "Whatever. I didn't even want a roof to sleep under anyway. C'est la vie honestly."

The stares did not cease. In fact, it got worse. You knew you were hot but like what the fuck can't a girl just walk and bitches mind their business?

Things were getting worse. The cobblestone ass road made it hard for you to pull your suitcase, so you were just essentially dragging it, you phone was on ten percent, you were hungry and thirsty because let's be real you did not eat much on that train, and honestly just over it.

You passed all the workers, dodged some random explosions, evaded random running children, spit some of that dandruff out of your mouth. Safe to say, you were angry but needed to persevere!

Eventually it was nighttime. You couldn't really tell if it was night or if it was just the pollution in the air at first, but after asking a random man he assured you it was indeed nighttime.

"I don't know how you guys live with all this dandruff," you told him, shaking your head. "You guys must be getting paid good as extras."

"Dandruff?" the man said, "that's ash, luv!"

"Thank god, that makes more sense. I was thinking I was gonna need to buy some Heads and Shoulders. I hate Heads and Shoulders."

He continued to look at you weird while he smoke his, what you were pretty sure in the span of you two talking, sixth cigarette. "Heads and shoulders? Fuck are they to do with your hair?"

"I know, horrible branding. I feel bad for the people in Pompeii. They probably thought it was like, a dandruff epidemic."

Eventually the man directed you to the Garrison, which was supposed to be this pub or whatever that all the locals hit up. You really just wanted a drink of water and like Taco Bell or something. Maybe a "Macky D's"? By the time you made it to the establishment, it was midnight, since you took forever cause you kept getting lost.

It was situated in a weird spot, where several men would occasionally run out and throw up bad on the dirt floor. It sounded hella noisy and rough in there, which was something you were not looking forward to. But again, you're hungry.

"I'm fucking starving," you thought to yourself as you pushed those heavy doors open, your suitcase getting caught in them. A surge of anger caused you to yank it past the swinging door, causing the it to slam against the wall and crack the glass. You got scared cause you didn't wanna pay for it, so you applied the "hear nothing, see nothing" tactic. It always worked <3

Nothing could've prepared you for when you entered. The energy was just not it. Heathrow vibes for sure. Hoards of drunk ass English men doing, well, things that drunk English men do. They were yelling, cursing, fighting, just being overall very annoying and overwhelming. It took you by surprise, you were just in awe that English were real. It was literally like a Call of Duty lobby but the English colonized it as they always do.

"These motherfuckers are crazy bro," you thought to yourself, getting a seat at the bar. The bartender made his way to you, and after some hesitation on his end, he finally spoke.

"Em, what can I get you, ma'am?" he asked, looking at you confused.

"Y'all got a menu?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Food, bro. I want food." You were not having it.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid there's just drinks here."

"Fine, fucking alcoholics," you said, holding in your hangriness, "what about water?"

"Huh," he thought, "no one ever asks for water. I forgot we served it!"

He turned around and as he began to pour some crusty water into a dusty glass, you felt a tap on your shoulder. But before you could even turn to ask what the fuck whoever wanted what, another big burly English drunk dude was all up in your face.

"ELLO MISS! MIGHT I HAVE A CHANCE AT BUYIN' YA A DRINK?"

You were flabbergasted. Dude REEKED of some ale.

"Uh, you stink," was all you could muster, pressing your fingers on your nose.

His face fell into a very angry one. "YOU FOOCKIN' JEZEBEL!"

You weren't sure what 'jezebel' meant so you just rolled your eyes and turned back to the new glass of water placed in front of you by the bartender, and before he could walk off you downed the entire thing. He, too, like McConnell, was frozen at your abilities.

"Sorry about that man, Miss," the bartender said as he poured you another. "You're very pretty. Must be getting used to it by now around here."

"Yeah, like, about that," you started, taking your time with the water this time because you didn't know how much they had left in this place, "why is everyone cosplaying? Like, people here are DEEP into their character, which, don't get me wrong - I respect. I used to be a theater major myself, so I get it. But this is like, crazy. I know the English love their theater, but god."

The bartender, with a hypothetical gun to his head, could not for the life of him understand what the fuck you meant. You kinda got that vibe when he didn't reply right away. He actually looked worried for your mental wellbeing.

"Um, why did you just like, disassociate?" you asked.

"I'm sorry, Miss," he chuckled nervously, "you've just confused me, is all."

"Yeah, all that alcohol is giving you that early onset dementia. Do you know where I can get food around here?"

"Hmm," he thought, "I don't really know, to be honest with ya. And it's quite late, so I'm not sure what's open."

You could cry. You hated being hungry and tired at the same time, added to literally everything else that was happening around you. You were able to tune out the drunken men yelling behind you, but only to a point - mama was close to blowing.

"Oh my GOD," you started. "WHAT'S A GIRL TO DO TO GET SOME FUCKING FOOD AROUND HERE?!" you caught yourself. The bartender was growing more concerned. "I'm sorry," you cleared your voice, "it's just like, your queen for real sucked."

"Queen?" he asked.

"Wow, you're really dedicated to the craft. Like I said, I respect." You continued to drink your water.

"How'd you end up here in London, anyway?" he asked, leaning against the counter. You later found out his name was Harry, like Styles.

"Oh, buddy," you said, "what a story I have for you."

You then began to blabber on about what brought you to this point, which helped because it made you forget about your current grievances. Soon, the entire pub went dead quiet, tuned in to your story time. You felt like Tana Mongeau, and these were your viewers. You get why the majority of YouTubers were lowkey conceited. (Not Tana though she's funny love you girl <3). It was like a big kindergarten story time.

About half an hour later, you were mid-way through.

"And so, when my boss literally fucking died, I was like, 'oh shit, I've like lost my job by like, proxy'? It was scary."

"How'd he pass?" one of the drunk men asked.

"Dude, get this. He died getting his phone out of the toilet. Like, some Elvis shit," realizing they wouldn't get what you just said, you thought it best to move right on, "anyway, I was like, 'maybe this is a good time to move on, maybe America isn't the place for me.' I was also wanted by the Men in Black, too. They don't fuck around."

"Who's the Men in Black?" Harry asked.

"The IRA were after ya?" another asked, in shock.

"I. R.S. It's not important. So, after he died, one of his kids had to be chosen to take over the company. Imagine like a Game of Thrones sort of thing. My on-and-off boyfriend, Kendall, is the oldest so you'd think it'd be him, right? Like, his name was underlined and everything. Or crossed out, you know, is the dress blue and black or white and gold? The day of, I snuck into the building for the board meeting. I wasn't supposed to be there, cause you know, I'm not a share holder or whatever, but I thought 'if I act like nothing happened, maybe technically I'm NOT fired cause my boss died, maybe nobody will say anything?' Confidence takes you a loooong way let me tell you! So at the board meeting, I voted Kendall, but his stupid home alone ass brother Roman was like 'oh YOU'RE still here?'. Then he told me to fuck off and that I should've died with Logan? Could you believe that?"

They were all in shock, muttering angry English curse words to each other.

"And then I was like, 'no fuck you. What ever happened to democracy? I don't have a vote?'. But whatever, Kendall didn't win and he left the building. No, Horton Hears a Who Tom won, and while everybody was celebrating I was like, 'guys? GUYS! ALL EYES ON WINDOWS! WHERE DID KENDALL GO? All eyes on windows!'. Then I got like, kicked out or whatever. I kept spamming Kendall, texting him and calling him and nothing. Like 'Kenny, wya???'. He was ghosting me. Then I saw right after he put his phone on Do Not Disturb. Targeted, really. I saw his location at Central Park, facing the water, and this had me WORRIED. Kendall and bodies of water? Yeah they don't mix well. I needed to talk to him before he jumped! But when I got there, his new dumbass body guard was like, 'Can you leave? He's not seeing anyone'. I kept calling him, and he wouldn't turn to look at me. He was like, mega dissociating watching that horizon."

"Must've killed him that he's no longer the number one boy," a drunken English man said, somber.

"Def," you said.

"So you and Kendall?" another asked.

"No more. He never picked up, so I thought we were done," the men in the bar were devastated. "Yeah, really sad. I already mourned, though. So, yeah, I was like, 'what do I do now?' Logan gave me some money, so I can really just do anything? I was walking down the streets of New York and saw a random man in a suit I thought was the IRS, and it hit me - I'm lowkey a fugitive? I need to like, leave. Logan isn't there to protect me anymore, you know? And then it hit me - I'll go to Scotland! In Logan's honor! Like, his hometown. Plus, I thought Scotland didn't have extradition, but it was actually Venezuela. But it's okay, same shit. And that's why I'm here."

"But this is Birmingham?" another man said.

"Oh, yeah, don't worry I fully aware. But yeah, that's it."

Again, the pub had been silent. They'd been intrigued, captivated. You waited for someone to speak up and break the silence, but about two minutes later you realized that wasn't gonna happen.

"Okay? Anyway, so nothing to eat here?" you asked Harry.

He shook his head, stunned. You then slowly crept off the chair, gathered your shit and saw your way out. "Weirdos," you thought.

You exited back out, it was now fully dark with few lampposts shining light onto the falling dandruff. It all reminded you of exactly where you were - stuck.

You slumped against the wall, onto the ground where you didn't see any of the mud that splashed all over your shorts. You were too tired and over it to give a fuck. You pulled out your phone, and saw the battery on 2%.

"Man FUCK!" you exclaimed, "I know damn well none of these Lin Manuel Miranda stans built an electric socket."

You went on to scroll mindlessly through your feed, which barely loaded because of the lack of signal. You were in the middle of spamming the refresh button until you received a notification from Snapchat that read, "One Year Ago Today". You clicked it open, forgetting you still had that app downloaded, and its contents nearly pushed you over the edge to start balling.

You clicked play.

"Oh, don't be a pussy, Greggguh!"

"Mumusdsfjks," Greg said, shoving more marshmallows into his mouth, "Chubb Bunif."

"Sorry, buddy, couldn't hear you!" Tom said, giddy, shoving his own marshmallow down Greg's mouth.

"You got it Greg!" you heard yourself say.

You wanted to cry. You wished you could just go back to Waystar in that moment, playing the Chubby Bunny challenge with gay lovers Tom and Greg.

"Man, I miss them," you thought. But alas, that was all gone now...

You quickly closed the video, going to your bank app to see how much money remained. After all, Logan DID leave you with enough, but you couldn't help yourself on those McDonald's breakfast orders through Uber Eats.

Your tears quickly evaporated like they were put through the snap of Thanos when you got a glance of your credit score though. Oh no.

"OH MY GOD?!??! MY CREDIT IS AT 400????!!? I'M LIKE, FUCKED?!???!"

"What's a credit score?"

You nearly shit yourself at the deep, sullen voice. You looked up and let's just say - you were intimidated. It's the terrorist dude from Red Eye. He wore a flat cap and a tweed little suit type of fit.

But it wasn't the tweed that had you transfixed - no, it was those eyes....they were familiar. The last time you felt power of being in a trance like that were those Furbies... it forced you to look at them, you had lost all ability of self-control. They made you question yourself, your purpose and whole life being. They were commanding you with their uncanny valley vibe. Their immense gravity caused all time to slow...

"Dude, put those away!" you yelled, forcing your eyes shut and looking away.

He didn't reply.

"I'm sorry," you giggled, realizing he wasn't gonna reply to you and instead just stood there. "I'm just really hungry. You got anything?"

He thought for a moment. "Actually...we don't eat." He had a little sassy, matter-of-factly tone of speaking you fucked with heavily.

"Yeah, that's why your official dish is tikka masala," a glance of that dish popped into your head. "Man I could fuck that up right now."

"I can take you to my office, I might have something there," he said. You agreed right after, anything would have to do. Little did you know, this would be the man who would save you. Not in a self-fulfilling sense but he'd grab you something to eat.

You two made it to his office, some ways away. It was just a big ass dark room with tables in the middle, which you would later find out the betting on his horse racing took place.

You sat down and he took off his coat and goofy ass hat, then went to the back for a moment. You looked around, you felt like you were in a dungeon. You looked down to your phone - shit was dead.

He came back moments later, with a single loaf of bread he placed in front of you. He then took a seat across from you, took out a cigarette and did what the English do best, smoke.

You were a bit taken aback, and it definitely showed, since his little sassy face got more sassier.

"Well?" he bellowed, motioning to the food.

"Honestly," you started, not wanting to offend cause he did scare you (in a hot way), "I don't know what more I was expecting. I know Panera bread when I see it."

You began to eat, he just watched you. You would be annoyed had this been anyone else, but man was too fine.

Some minutes went by, and he just smoked while you ate. He was definitely a man of few words.

"You're so mysterious," you said. "Is that your character?"

He took in a big puff and put his feet up on the table like he owned the place, cause he literally did. "You don't belong here."

"Yeah, no fucking shit. I'm supposed to be in Scotland."

"What's in Scotland?" he asked, tapping his cigarette into an empty whiskey glass.

"Bagpipes, I've heard."

He then leaned to the side, grabbing his cigarette case out and offering you one. You declined.

"It's okay, I don't like cigarettes. They're gross," you went inside your bag and pulled out your crusty geriatric Elf Bar that was on life support, "here, try this! She's my sidekick!"

He stared at it, not a thought behind those eyes. He then rose up.

"What about a whiskey, eh?" He went to a table against the wall and poured two glasses. You shrugged at his decline of your Elf Bar, and took some shitty hits cause girl it's dead give it up.

As he had his back to you pouring the glasses, you really thought about how manly he was, in a way all those Ryan Gosling Drive stans love. He reminded you of those mafia boss fanfics you used to read. The way he spoke was so low and serious, but it made your feet rock like crazy!

He turned back around and placed your glass in front of you. Before he sat, he took a swing of his and literally drank it all in one shot like an animal. Wanting to impress him, you did the same, but soon regretted it right after. You'd tried whiskey before, but that was just not good. It was so strong it burned your esophagus, causing you to feel like you had strep throat all over again. You nearly gagged and threw it up but you couldn't let Tommy see you that way. He was staring.

"Jesus Christ," you said in a raspy, chain smoker voice, trying to smile through the pain, "that's some real shit right there. I'd much prefer a BuzzBall."

"What brings you to the UK?" he asked again, a little more interrogating.

"Fine. I'm avoiding parole."

"Parole?"

"Have you ever been on parole?" you asked.

He took a moment, your question hit hard. "Ever since men like me got back from France, we've always felt we were on parole under the king." He had a sadness to it, which then made you kinda sad.

"Aww, you're a parole baby <3."

He rose his brows in a "yeah this girl off it" way.

"Does France give you bad memories?" you asked, wanting to know both out of being a nosy bitch and seeing if you could break him.

"Most nights," he said.

"Don't worry, me too."

"You served?"

"I might has well have," you replied, thinking of that past life living with your old boyfriend.

"I wasn't aware women served."

"We always do," you assured. You kept looking into his eyes like it was a staring contest.

"What's it you're looking at?"

"You have a very, no-nonsense cunty face. Like BBL," you first smiled telling him that, but it then reminded you of when you told your old boyfriend Kendall the same thing. The thought of him made you sad, you wondered where your number one boy was now...

You didn't realize but Tommy noticed your change in demeanor, initially believing you were thinking about your time during the war in France. He rose and grabbed another drink, placing one in front of you as he killed his in less than a second.

You snapped out of your sadness. "Oh, no thanks. I don't think I can have anymore. This trip will definitely be very detoxing for me."

You two then sat in comfortable silence for some time, as if you two were both mourning after the innocence lost before France. You were something different for him, a new comfort he couldn't find much else in that polluted ass city. And you found comfort in him, he really did seem like he needed fixing. But that's not what you do, no no, he's a grown ass man and can fix himself. You'll just watch from the sidelines <3.

Eventually, you stayed in Birmingham. Once you were aware that your money had no value in the UK, you realized you needed to be employed again to save up for Scotland. Dollars, turns out, did not equal shillings and pounds or whatever. Tommy hooked you up after finding out your situation and generously gave you a job at the Garrison as a barmaid, along with Harry, who in time, became your BFF. It wasn't that hard of a job, these men never mixed any drinks and would instead have their alcohol straight like a bunch of monsters, so you kinda ate at this job. Another perk was that these 1920s bitches loved thin eyebrows, so your Y2K overplucked eyebrows fit right in! Full circle shit!

But perhaps the best perk was when Tommy would come in every so often and give you a little LOOK. Oh that shit made you rabid yes it did! It made you all hot down there and you couldn't handle it! You two barely spoke, as he would go into the side room for meetings and whatever mumbo jumbo he got up to with his brothers, but when you did you did your best to bring out that old femme fatale. You knew damn well he'd fuck that shit up. And let's be real so did you.

You knew that you had Tommy in your CLUTCH when he was once lecturing you - basically there was talk about some Billy Kimber dude amongst him and his brothers and the members of the gang, but you couldn't get past how fun it was to say the man's name, especially in their wild ass accent. You kept incessantly shouting it, to what you thought was a joke, "BILLY FACKIN KIMBA" in every possible moment you could, but it would send all the men into a paranoid shock thinking Billy boy was just around the corner. Obviously, he wasn't, in fact you couldn't point out who Billy Kimber was in a crowd of English, but let's just say - it sent them for a sheer panic. They would constantly tell Tommy to get you to stop, since it was bringing back war trauma basically and never felt fear like that since the war. You personally thought they were being a bunch of pussies but whatevs.

Anyway Tommy found you at the bar after closing and wanted to have a serious talk with you - no more random BILLY FACKIN KIMBA. As he was lecturing you on the dangers of it, you actually started to disassociate in those eyes of his. You then started to think,

"What if I just grabbed his hat?"

Those intrusive thoughts grew stronger and stronger as the moments flew by and the more his voice became a bunch of muffled nothing. And they won.

"GOTCHA HAT!" you spat before taking his flat cap off and running with it, jumping over the bar on some parkour shit and pushing those doors open onto the grimy streets of Birmingham, in an excited manic. You ran for nothing, since you didn't notice in the adrenaline of it all he didn't move an inch and instead just stood at the bar, stumped. From that point on, he knew you weren't like other girls. Cause let's be real who in their right fucking mind would do that to Tommy Shelby? You did girl xoxo <3

But when your image with Tommy REALLY hit home for the guy, it was one night. One very special night...

You were working the night shift at the Garrison, again. It was another rainy day in London Town, and you were all alone cleaning up. You started to think about Gabbie Hanna, and how low key right she was. You continued to rap to yourself,

"♪ Overwhelmed, overworked, overpaid. I'm on top of the world sitting pretty ♪ -"

The doors flew open, causing you to jump pretty high up. You looked to the entrance, it was Tommy. And man was drenched and tired looking, your fave combo.

He walked over, behind the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He was always a little emo and to himself, but something about him now was really depressing, like man's definitely going through it.

He then took a seat at a table, and looked at you with dead eyes.

"What's with the frown?" you asked, trying to lighten up the mood but was severely unsuccessful. (Unbeknownst to you he literally just had to put down a horse he thought was cursed :/ it's a canon event!)

He didn't reply. Surprise surprise instead he just drank his whiskey done. You chewed your gum, clueless.

You just continued to clean, continuing Gabbie's rhyme in your head.

"♪ Overwhelmed, overwork, underpaid ♪ -"

"Can you sing?"

You turned around again. He fr sounded sad asf. It shocked you, cause did he like, read your mind or sum?

"Uh, yeah. You want me to sing?"

"Every barmaid knows how to sing."

"Okay, sure. Like acapella?"

He just stared at you, lost again with your mumbo jumbo.

"Well, I know Lana, I know Nicki, my ex had a song L to the OG-"

"Lana. She sounds nice."

You nodded. "She really is, I love her. Okay, I think I know a song."

"Stand up there," he pointed to a table. You were a bit hesitant, the last time you did that you ate shit like that one girl on YouTube who was also singing on a table and ate shit. But it was for Tommy so you did so anyway.

You climbed up, took out your gum, flicked it in a bucket, cleared your throat, moved your hair out of your face, and fixed your posture - this was your Pose moment tonight, and Tommy's Billy Porter.

You then started to sing White Mustang by Lana, but the moment you got to the chorus, which was, well, White Mustang, he told you to stop.

"Something else, please," he asked demanding yet softly.

"What? Too close to home? Don't worry, Lana does that," you assured, "here, I'll sing a song that hits close to me, it's called How to disappear, it's what do when I'm trying to run from the IRS."

You cleared your throat again and started to sing and girl you ATE THAT SHIT!!!!!

You hit those fucking notes, you were lost in your little own world envisioning yourself in a music video. You understood why America's Got Talent contestants were nervous, cause the pressure? Yeah it's real. And not only is Tommy Billy Porter, he's also Simon Cowell - a yes from that Brit would secure your spot.

Speaking OF Tommy, because momentarily you forgot he was there with you - the man was enthralled, ENCHANTED. He sat silently, the rainwater dripping down his face, as he was taking in every small gesture you made, taking in every musical note that came out of your BBL mouth, (even the voice cracks), and just taking, well, you in. At that very moment, he was in love. YOU were the femme fatale he needed in his life, the one that would complete him, make him feel whole, and would give him purpose.

Once you were finished, you snapped back into reality and realized you actually weren't in a music video. You looked to Tommy, whose face barely made any other emote other than the one where he looked like he was annoyed, staring up at you. A wave of anxiety flooded over you - you were the center of his world right now, and that pressure was too hot!

You quickly climbed down, and flashed him a big smile.

"So?" you asked, now LITERALLY feeling more grounded on the ground.

He didn't respond at first. Moments later, he did.

"Do you have something nice to wear?"

"Like what?"

"A dress?"

"Um," you thought, trying to remember the contents of your Hello Kitty-themed suitcase, "maybe. Why?"

He rose up, getting ready to leave from the fear and insecurity of the emotions he just experienced. "I want to take you to the races."

"We're gonna race?"

"Horses. Horse races," he corrected you, making his way to the exit. "Be ready by tomorrow, I'll collect you before noon."

"Oh my god, like a date?" you were too slow to come to the conclusion because by that time he'd already left. The excitement quickly mixed in with the anxiety, which wasn't the best feeling in the world. You knew in anticipation for tomorrow you were gonna need SOMETHING to take the edge off, so before closing up you snatched some bottles of alcohol to take to your flat. You weren't really sure what exactly they were, but what you did know was that it was gonna taste like fucking ass. But when mama needs her go go juice, she TAKES her go go juice.

The following morning you woke up at the crack ass of dawn to get ready - you knew you needed TIME. Not that it takes a while for you to get all pretty, girl you're already naturally stunning! but time and place - you needed to stunt today. Also, you already weren't a morning person so you didn't trust yourself to snooze. Actually, you barely slept at all last night since you were too caught up about what makeup you were gonna do, how you were gonna style your hair, what dress to wear and most of all, your ass was just asked out by Tommy. You wondered if this is how nervy the soldiers felt when they encountered bin Laden's bunker.

You had already finished your makeup and hair, looking pretty snatched. Too bad your phone's been dead for the past couple of weeks and you couldn't take pictures. But anyway you did the usual 1920's makeup tutorial you remember watching on some Buzzfeed video a while ago, pretending you were doing a Vogue makeup tutorial in your mirror and talking step by step your process. You curled your hair into the 1920's bob they were obsessed with back then, packing on an obscene amount of gel just to keep that wave stiff. You struggled but nonetheless you got it girl.

You were now staring at the remaining contents of your Hello Kitty-themed suitcase - let's just say, you had nothing. That's a lie you did have SOMETHING but was it appropriate for the time? No. Like if you're going to the Renaissance Fair, your ass isn't gonna wear some Skims ass dress. But guess what? That's actually all you had.

It was a black, tight, spaghetti-strap slip-on dress that was above the knee - definitely NOT the vibe for the era, maybe a bit too revealing? But what other choice do you have? You're I <3 Surfer Boys tee? Exaaaaactly.

You slipped it on and was taken aback - you know how you forget how good you look when it's been a while since you've dressed up and you actually surprise yourself? Yeah that was you right now. Kim would be proud to see you in that dress, in fact, she'd probably cheer you on to wear it proudly at the races. Even though she wasn't your favorite sister, you imagining her company right now really did help.

You kept feeling yourself in the mirror - girl you looked GOOD. You put on some black heels, some perfume and that was it - you were simply that bitch now.

"Oh my god," you thought to yourself, "Tommy's gonna flip. Shit, I'd get with me."

And just like that, you heard the honks of a car coming from outside your flat. You peered through the window, and there you saw some vintage, rinky dink ass car.

"Oh, fuck!" you shouted, mainly to yourself, but they heard. "Coming!" you called out the window.

It was actually happening - oh fuck he's here oh yes he is. Quickly, you grabbed one of the bottles you confiscated and took the fattest swig. It was the most horrendous, grotesque warm vodka you've ever consumed. But it would have to do.

You quickly made it downstairs, taking a moment before appearing outside to calm yourself down and make it seem as if you effortlessly just went down some stairs without a care or worry in the world. You made sure to grab a fur coat, faux of course, and your keys.

Down by the car was Tommy in the driver's seat, with his two brothers, Arthur and John, seated in the back. They all looked at you in awe - they had never seen so much of a woman's legs in their entire life.

"Bloody foockin' hell, Tommy! What do we have here?!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Jesus, Tommy," said John, "I didn't think it was bloody possible for you!"

Tommy stared at you for a few seconds longer, a bit taken aback himself.

Tommy ignored his brothers and exited his side, helping you into the passenger's. You got a whiff of his cologne that brought out an animalistic, innate horndogness of you that you remembered to keep in check. Now was not the time but it was admittedly hard cause the man just looked so good.

He climbed back into his side, then started driving off, the cobblestone road causing you to feel even more nauseous than you already did. You didn't realize it, but you were mute for the first ten minutes from how disassociated you were. That vodka was hitting deep and swimming in circles in your empty tummy - you hadn't had breakfast, essentially raw dogging and running on nothing, because you knew if you munched on some Panera bread, you would've thrown it up from the nervousness. You were now really accepting the fact that it was a grave mistake.

"Well, what's wrong with her?" Arthur bellowed, "is her bloody tongue cut off?"

Tommy gave you a quick little side eye, then fully turned to you after realizing you were, indeed, gone.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned with a TOUCH of attitude. Or maybe they were both the same you couldn't differentiate it when it came to Tommy.

"Uh, yeah," you cleared your throat and sat up straight, "just really taking in the moment, you know? It's my first race."

Tommy turned back to the road.

"You guys look great!" you complimented, wanting to move on.

"Why thank you, Miss Y/N. I shall wear your kind words like a medal from tha war," said Arthur. "You look like one of them silent film stars!"

You blushed. "So, wanna listen to some music?" you suggested, hating sitting in quiet cars.

Tommy scrunched his brows. "What do you mean?"

You looked down to where the touchscreen on the car WOULD be, forgetting this car was quite literally just a box on wheels with an engine attached. AUX and Bluetooth are not in the vocabulary of these people's brains for another couple more decades.

"Like, carpool karaoke," you suggested.

"What?" John asked.

"Bloody hell is that?" Arthur also asked. You also forgot, these English men wouldn't face the atrocity that is James Corden in ALSO a couple more decades.

Tommy scoffed, a small little smile on his face but nonetheless a smile. He gets it. "Singing. She likes to sing."

"Is that right?" smiled Arthur, "wow, you've really done a number on Tommy boy over here! He's now a fan of the musical arts!"

The two brothers began laughing and smacking Tommy on the shoulders and head in a playful, men-in-a-gang, manner. He smirked.

"I'll start, I have the perfect song - this one's called Off To The Races," you turned to Tommy, "also by Lana."

You two smiled at the little inside joke y'all had going on now. You then started singing, really into it like the night before. You were hitting those "scarlet, starlet" notes a little too good. Once you wrapped up, you left the three men in a silence that lasted for a couple minutes. Except Tommy, he was always silent. But his brothers were a little confused, but decided to just roll with it since you made Tommy happy. You thought they were just floored by your abilities.

"Lovely," John finally said, hesitant and low to break the silence.

"You've got yourself a bloody mental one here, Tommy," said Arthur. Tommy smiled, you were indeed a little unwell but it was okay to him. So was he <3

It had been about an hour after your arrival, you had been helping yourself to a shit ton of food by a table, stocking up like a bear ready for hibernation. You were literally the only one there, and you assumed so because the cigarettes and alcohol these Brits were fucking up were acting as appetite suppressants. Your fat ass wasn't complaining.

Besides being the only one actually eating something of nutritional value, you were getting HEAVY looks and side eyes for your outfit. You didn't care, your ass looked good from all the walking around the pub you've been doing. Upon entering, Tommy noticed the looks to. You whispered in his ear, "it's cause none of these interbred Habsburg jaws know what a real woman a real BITCH looks like 💅."

He didn't get exactly what you meant, but got the vibe and he liked it. He, actually, loved that you were the center of attention here, as you SHOULD be. Afterwards, he told you he had some business to attend to and knowing you were hungry, led you to the food table. He said he'd get you after he was done, and man was taking his time. But again you didn't care you were just munching away.

"Try the scone, darling, it's absolutely dashing!" a rich, socialite said to you. Her costume was just as amazing as everyone else.

"You know, I've been avoiding it but, maybe I will. Why not?" you smiled, grabbing one and taking a chomp. It tasted like actual ass but you have a great poker face. You moaned like Mark Weins, even hitting his crazy facial expressions. "It's great!" you mumbled. She smiled and talked on about something you didn't really pay attention to.

Eventually, Tommy came up behind you and grabbed your arm gently. Had this been any other man, you would've pistol whipped them in the face with the rock of a scone in your hand, but it was Tommy so you just got all the butterflies inside. You turned and smiled, chewing your food and swallowing it almost hole to say something and not just stand there.

"Fhey Tomyif," you mumbled through the dry scone.

"Feeling better, eh?" he said in a low tone. He seem a little more cheery, which made you cheery. He was enjoying himself, as he should. And so were you, as you should. Let's just say, the vibes were good.

"Omg, def," you said, finally swallowing the last bit of food, "you know, you should try eating something. I know you don't do it much, but, I feel like it can be a great experience for you."

He looked into your eyes. He loved that you cared. A soft smile came on his lips.

"Not hungry."

You thought for a minute. "But like, I'm pretty sure you haven't eaten since France."

"Maybe later. Do you dance?"

"Do I dance? With a little spicy marg in me, Tommy, it's over." But alas, the bartender would have no clue what a spicy marg was, so you kinda had to retract your statement, "But no yeah I can dance sober too no biggy."

"Good," he said, grabbing your hand gently and leading you to the crowded dance floor. You turned back to wave at the socialite lady, who gave you a little wink. My girl knew you scored.

All you knew was that the Brits LOVED their Charleston dancing, something that you definitely needed Just Dance to teach you. But she wasn't here. You were frightened at the thought, but when Tommy pulled you in, and you two just started going at it, it was as natural as your BBL ass. That one Pride and Prejudice dancing sequence had you mastered in the art.

With his hand at your waist and the other in your hand, and your other hand around his neck feeling his buzzcut, there was no force on this earth that could stop you. You honestly just moved your legs around and were great.

Up close to him, you were again in touch with his cologne. You needed to control yourself, but it didn't help that he was like three inches from your face. In this sea of people, it just felt like you two and no one else.

As you two were fucking up that dance floor to that 1920s jazz music, you looked around at the other faces of people dancing around you. Some you caught staring, others pretended not to. You smiled at the fact your hot ass was intimidating.

"Man, if I were to do the Woah here, they'd all lose their fucking minds," you thought. "What if I like, just started twerking? No, I can't. I can't let them win." You knew those intrusive thoughts cannot get another W against you again. The last time that happened, you were expelled from theater school. You couldn't, you couldn't embarrass Tommy - but the urge was too strong.

Almost as if Tommy read your mind, he pulled you aside the dance floor.

"I want to introduce you to someone," he said. He then took you to a table where a man with the craziest middle part and mustache sat, beside another who looked like an owl with glasses and other carbon copies of English dudes. At the table was a fuck ton of coins and money, along with drinks and clouds of cigarette smoke from ashtrays.

"Y/N, this is Billy Kimber. He owns the tracks here," Tommy said. Oh my god it's him, its Billy fackin Kimba...

You weren't sure why Tommy would introduce you, but you took it as a compliment. Maybe he just wanted to stunt on this guy? Who knows.

The man with the goofy ass fucking name had a wry grin on his face that you did not like at all. The vibe was not good no more around this guy. He stuck out his hand to you, and you obliged very hesitantly. He grabbed your hand and kissed it. With that a wave of disgust flew over you, feeling as though you've been stained. Ew gross.

"Lovely ta meet ya," the man said. He rose, "Mista Shelby, might I ask your lady for a dance?"

"Oh, no thanks! <3" you said, a welcoming smile on your face. Tommy and Billy both looked at you as if you just said the most out of pocket shit. The owl man and English robots also gave you daring looks.

"Wot?" Kimber spat.

You almost laughed.

"Uh, yeah like, I don't wanna dance." you said, mimicking Tana Mongeau's "a bleach and tone".

Billy saw absolute red. He was livid. He turned to Tommy, who, too, was speechless.

"The fuck are you on about?" Billy spat again. You really weren't sure what he didn't understand.

You then realized - there was no getting out of this. You didn't want to cause a scene, cause you kinda already did. So you again invited those intrusive thoughts.

"Fine," you said, clearing your throat and standing straight. "I'll dance."

You then pretended to throw something in the air, looking up in an anticipatory, worried way. They all looked up too, confused.

"Oh my god, do you see it? Mr. Kimber, where is it?!" you said as if a bomb were to fall.

He looked up and then to you, growing increasingly worried. He was too in shock to speak.

"Where is it?! Where is it?! Do you see it?!" you kept looking up at basically nothing, but you knew it was something. You kept them on their toes, scared at this point. Your feet dancing softly, they were ready for impact. It was time to come down. "There! There it is and -"

With that, you pulled it down and committed the hardest, most nastiest Woah you've ever done. The last time it was that riveting was during middle school lunches.

When you brought that down, the pose you ended on had your head down and body limp, as if you were Aang in the Avatar state during the episode where he was fighting Zuko's papa and had to unlock and harness such force.

You left them taken aback, disoriented. They didn't know what to do or how to react. You looked fucking insane.

You took a deep breath and stood back up straight, satisfied. Once you realized that the room had fallen completely silent, even the musicians, you felt you needed to excuse yourself.

"Um, so," you struggled to find the words. You felt the anxiety creeping up again, the lightheadedness arising. And most of all, it was time for you to empty yourself. "I've, uh," you thought harder and harder - "I'VE GOT AN ITCHY BUM!"

You split, running and running as fast as your pumps could take you. You ran and ran, it was always the most liberating activity honestly. All that dancing with Tommy, the nerves piled up along with the hors d'oeuvres - they lead to this very moment.

You searched round and round, desperately for a bathroom. No where in this bitch was there a sign or indication, and time was running slim. This was some real Mission Impossible, Tom Cruise is on a time crunch, shit. You pushed through crowds of drunk, belligerent and yelling people, feeling your body slowly succumb to the intense body heat.

Eventually, you spotted a familiar face. You ran.

"Arthur!" you yelled. He spun and looked back to you.

"Y/N! What is it?" he asked, worried. You looked a bit wild. "Are you alright? Where's Tommy?"

"He's fine, he's," you thought, "somewhere. Look, it doesn't fucking matter."

"The mouth on you -"

"Where the fuck is the bathroom in this bitch? Huh? The loo? The toilet? The washroom whatever the fuck y'all call it?"

"Well, I was on me way. It's just over there -" he pointed and you bolted.

As you were entering, you literally ran full force into the socialite from earlier. She wasn't angry, just like Arthur, worried.

"You look absolutely GHASTLY darling!"

"Girl move -"

You went into one of the stalls and laid your worst. Thankfully since it was a Skims dress, all you had to do was pull your Victoria Secret thong off and go. You felt bad for the ladies in their dresses and stockings and shit here - convenience was definitely not a factor yet.

After you cleared your business, (and subsequently the whole bathroom), you stepped out of your stall, refreshed and effortless. You washed your hands, fixed your hair and makeup just a bit in the mirror, and felt yourself again. You took mental selfies, since it was all you had.

As you left the bathroom, you heard the grunts and yells of men. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, but it sounded like some shit was fr going down. You crept to the source of the noise, coming from the men's bathroom. At first, you thought someone was probably constipated, but instead it was Arthur, John and a few others absolutely rocking this guy's shit. They were beating him, cutting him with the razors sewn into their goofy caps, and curb stomping his head into the sink. So sink stomping?

You made a gross face and walked back out. "Yeesh."

After all, it wasn't the first time you were so close to the mob.

You remember your number one golden rule you learned from earlier during your time with Pablo: Hear nothing, see nothing!

After walking past the dance floor again, you were relieved to see that everyone and everything had gone back to normal - people were back to dancing, drinking and chatting - back to the script. You actually forgot this was supposed to be a horse race.

But, there was no Tommy anywhere. You searched and searched, yet you couldn't find that 75% shaved head anywhere.

You then walked back outside by the entrance, where you saw a woman smoking. You went up to her.

"May I bum a smoke?" you asked in your best English accent, trying to speak their language. She turned to you and pulled one out, lighting it for you. "Thank you so much, you look lovely, darling."

The woman smiled. You loved hyping the girls up!

"You too. I must admit, I find your choice in wardrobe absolutely admirable and daring!"

You smiled, "Aww, really?" you quickly corrected your accent, "Oh dear, many thanks, many thanks yes."

You took a hit of that cigarette. Shit was gross. But when in Rome...

You and the woman spoke for some time, deep in conversation. It was refreshing to meet another girl here, safe to just talk shit and have a break from all the drunken men and oh no there's Tommy.

You saw him approaching you and he looked again, upset and emo. It didn't exactly burst your bubble, you really liked Tommy, but were afraid that you possibly embarrassed him in front of the Bilbo Timberland from earlier.

You bided the woman goodbye and walked towards Tommy. He then took you two back to his car and started off onto the road. By now, it was nearing evening. The car ride was pretty silent, you were looking out admiring the brief countryside. Shit was beautiful like a Microsoft Home Screen.

"So, what's wrong?" you asked. "You're like, down in the dumps again. And where are your brothers?"

"They'll find their own way home," Tommy said, low and serious, the usual.

"So is that it? Y'all got into a fight or something?"

He let out a deep breath. "I told Billy Kimber he could have a dance with you."

"Ew, why?"

"Well," he didn't want to say 'business', cause like okayyyyy shout out to 1920's gender roles!, "because you look...nice. You look pretty."

You blushed hard, trying to control your smile. Seeing this side of Tommy was like a sneak peak, it was so exclusive!

"Oh my god, Tommy, are you flirting with me? I didn't even know you had that setting available!"

He smirked, his frown OFFICIALLY being turned upside down. He chucked in disbelief of himself. He was falling.

Once you made it back to the neighborhood, the sun had gone down and the streets were once again pretty dark. Smoky depressing England like what the Smiths wrote about you get the vibe.

Anyway he took you to his flat, saying that he wanted to "show you something". You weren't sure what that something was, it could've honestly been like a dead body but actually it wasn't! It was dinner <3

"I've uh," he started, not crazy about the fact that he was falling for you, "I've prepared dinner."

You gasped and made a very soy ass face. How absolutely gentlemanly of him!

"Oh my god, no you didn't Tommy!" you said, "You're so sweet, that's like, so sweet! You shouldn't have!"

He smiled softly, in a "yeah I did that" sort of way. And he did just that. You were 90% sure whatever was inside he didn't cook, but it's the THOUGHT that counts!

He escorted you inside like the gentlemen he was, shutting the front door behind you two. The lights inside the flat were dim, and by the table were two plates. Upon closer inspection, you were absolutely FLOORED!!!!

"No way - tikka fucking masala?!" you exclaimed. He chuckled and it was hot.

You walked closer and saw two very familiar, VERY FAMILIAR, colorful orbs. You turned them to the side. All this time since you'd last seen one, you forgot what they were or looked like.

"AND FUCKING BUZZBALLS?!?!?!" you said. "Tommy, how the fuck did you even get these?"

He pulled the chair out for you, and you scooted your big fat butt in.

"I know people. It's my job."

You couldn't help but smirk.

"It's so hot when a man has connections," your dirty Jezebel mind thought.

He cracked the BuzzBalls opened and poured them for each of you, like it was some high end expensive ass champagne. You watched him, relishing in the moment - you had your GRIP on this man. Chivalry was in fact, despite popular belief, not dead. But it was also the 1920s so you forgot about that bit.

You looked down at your plate - you were going to fuck. this. up. He'd never seen this side of you - the side that would tear your meal like a fucking ape cracking open a coconut with a rock for water. You thought if you should warn him, but told yourself - he needs to know ME for ME.

You gripped that naan, grabbed a fat ass chunk of that chicken - and the moment it hit your lips, you had started giggling like Mark Weins again but subtract the poker face. You had forgotten the long lost love of spice other than pepper and salt. You could've cried if it hadn't been for the fact your makeup looked too good.

You two dined and wined (there's no wine) for the next hour, talking and talking and chewing and chewing. Seeing him eat was hard for your mind to process, you just never thought he was capable of it. Anyway as he was talking you felt bad because you were zoning out looking at him as if he was another dish of tikka masala. He had such a sigma vibe to him, maybe alpha? (I don't know I'm not familiar with gym bro brain rot TikTok lingo but you get the vibe.) He was just so manly and yet so gentle and calculating, it kinda scared you because like he could literally have everything set up to kill you right now and you wouldn't know cause you were too charmed. But then you realized, he wouldn't have done all this shit for someone he wanted dead. No girl, he just wanted YOU! Your toes tickled at the thought, and those butterflies? They were fluttering.

For the first time, you had anxiety but hadn't felt the need to shit yet. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol calming your nerves, or the chill vintage ambience going on, or Tommy's comfortable/intimidating presence. In other words, this felt natural and you were fucking with it.

There were several times you needed to burp, but forgetting you weren't with your girls, you had to swallow that shit deep. After all, girls don't burp. You tried to keep your femme fatale composure.

You were the light he needed in his very dark emo life. It had been a very long time since he had a genuine laugh, despite the fact he might have had no idea what the fuck you were talking about or saying half the time, but seeing you all bubbly and happy made him feel content. He was finally being vulnerable, letting go a little and just, well, living life. Being free. #livelaughlove

"What will you do? When you've saved enough for Scotland?" he asked.

The idea brought you down a bit. You forgot about that shit. "Oh, well, I don't know. I kinda like the barmaid stuff, so maybe I'll try to find something similar there?"

You were eating his leftovers. He didn't eat much but liked watching you eat like it was a mukbang. He loved a girl who eats.

"Why don't you stay?" he asked, avoiding eye contact with you as he poured himself another BuzzBall. You could tell he wasn't a fan but drank it anyway for you because you liked it.

You again couldn't help but smirk. You loved seeing a guy CRACK!!!

"Do you want me to?" you asked, biting your tongue like the white mom. You hadn't done that in a while either, this English life didn't permit it.

He took a sip from his drink. "Perhaps you'd be interested in working for me."

"Aren't I already, low-key though?"

"Garrison's not mine," he said. "Do you know anything about bookkeeping?"

He lit a cigarette and offered you one. You took it, not wanting to offend.

"Well, I gotta tell you," you said, "math is NOT my forte. But oh my god yes babe thanks!"

You ran over and jumped to hug him, he hugged tightly back, he then threw you on the hard table, pushing everything to the floor and you felt his member pressed against your leg. He began kissing you, his tongue licking your lips for entrance. You let him in. Your tongues fought for dominance but you let him win. He eventually started going down on you, taking your Skims dress clean off, and started kissing your labia.

"This...this is a bloody fucking labia," he says.

You lifted your legs as he began to eat you out, his wet breath on your cooter. He held your foot up and raised himself, ready to press his member into your entrance. Your eyes were closed, ready to take the boy from Birmingham in. This is it. No missed flights, no drunk men to call you Jezebels, no lung cancer from cigarettes and factory smoke, no IRS or IRA, nothing - just you and Tommy.

You and Tommy laid on his bed, in each other's arms. Since his bed was high-key smaller than a twin, it was pretty cramped, but neither of you minded. You two were smoking (him a cigarette and you your Elf bar), reminding you of that one band Cigarettes after Sex and how Tommy would've liked them, but they wouldn't drop music for another couple years in this time zone.

You two talked softly as the rain patterned on the window's glass, some of the street lights peering through the curtain. If there was some incense on, it'd be a vibe. You originally thought his opium pipe was an incense holder but you were very mistaken.

" - so yeah, that's why people picked team Jolie. But in all honesty, I feel bad for Jennifer, you know? Like, he literally cheated on her. Over what? A fucky boof ass movie? It was ass," you hit your Elf bar, refusing to accept it was dead. "I guess it doesn't matter now, cause NONE of them are together anymore. So what do you think? Aniston or Jolie?"

He took a drag of cigarette as he stared at the ceiling. He made an unsure face.

"I'm not familiar with them."

"True. Fine, let me think of something you'd know. Like something English drama," you thought. "Okay, team Blur or team Oasis? I hear there was a lot of blood shed during the battle of Britpop."

He again took another drag of his cigarette. Anyone would be looking at this and thinking he found you hella annoying, but he didn't. He just genuinely thought you had a great imagination.

"Neither, I guess. I don't have time to listen to music."

He was right, which was why he loved when you sang at the pub and most of all, to him during your private Lana concerts.

As time went on, you were in DEEP. Scotland? Yeah never heard of her. Not only were you working for Tommy doing whatever bookkeeping is, but he had even introduced you to his family, which you KNOW damn well is a sign that shit is serious.

You loved the Shelby's, even though they were a bit off their shit sometimes. But it wasn't anything new, you'd been well familiar with crazy families before. You loved talking shit with Polly, going to the 'cinema' with Ada, fucking with Arthur until he got mad, supplying John with his toothpicks and making little Finn believe in the fake number 'derf'. You got along with them well, they saw you as a perfect fit for the family - something different, vibrant and bright! You loved them and they loved you! Polly would even tell you in confidence that you made Tommy a happier person, something he lost after the war. Getting Polly's stamp of approval was literally it, that's all you needed.

And you and Tommy? Yeah y'all were a thing. An item. During work hours he'd give you little looks here and there, and so did you, as if it was some secret office romance. But it wasn't secret literally everyone knew you were his girl. And that's power.

You learned the ropes pretty fast, again it wasn't your first rodeo in the mob. It was like Colombia all over again, but we don't talk about that. Tommy fucked with you having a secretive criminal past, he thought it was pretty hot.

Besides bookkeeping, you still worked in the bar. All the patrons loved when you sang Lana, it just went on to prove that she's indeed a poet. They eventually memorized them and sang along, which annoyed you sometimes cause you just wanted to hear yourself and they sounded like ass when they were drunk. But you just go along with it!

Some of the songs you in the pub (and Tommy's room) sang included:

Bartender (cause hello? You're LITERALLY at a bar)

Shades of Cool (for Tommy's big blue ass eyes (you wished they could hear that guitar solo cause the acapella didn't do it justice :( ))

Cola (singing this for the fist time made you realize you had to censor a couple things, they weren't a fan of that intro)

Stargirl's Interlude (Lana's part obvi, but it's again for Tommy cause he's your starboy <3 he loved when you hit those high notes)

Brooklyn Baby (you avoided it cause it reminded you of your ex)

Video Games (hello it's for Tommy)

Love Song (this makes them all cry)

Money Power Glory (again hello it's Tommy, but this wouldn't hit until he's a member in Parliament)

National Anthem (being in England for so long made you forget the United States anthem)

Fucked My Way Up To The Top (literally you rn)

Speaking OF a bunch of drunk men, the gang loved you. You thought you were like the comedic relief of the little theater thing they had going on here. You had to admit, you admired the method acting everyone had done so far. It only, to you, proved that it worked, since you were GENUINELY left in deep in a psychosis where you're just a 1920's flapper girl.

There was some rules and etiquettes you needed to remember, however. One, was of course, the "BILLY FACKIN KIMBA", and another was you finding out Tommy did NOT fuck with brujeria or anything dark magic related. You thought it was kinda funny, he reminded you of those Reddit r/atheist accounts but at the same time, he was low-key scared of zodiacs. Not that he didn't like it, he was paranoid at them. You literally asked his zodiac sign and he responded very sternly and seriously,

"Y/N, don't."

You then said. "That's a very Capricorn thing to say."

Besides that, everything was great and chill.

It wasn't long before this annoying ass Irish inspector dude pulled up to the pub. Once he saw you, he locked eyes with you and approached the bar. You didn't like his vibe in the slightest. In fact, no one in the pub liked his vibe either. They all fell silent when he entered.

"Excuse, me, ma'am," he said. You turned, not really wanting to talk.

"Yeah, what?"

"Do you know about a Thomas Shelby?"

"Yeah, what about him?" you didn't fuck with anyone who referred to Tommy as Thomas. Like?

"Do you know where I can find him?"

You were really starting to not fuck with his vibe even more. Something was def fishy.

"You should really go back to being with the dinosaurs," you said. He didn't like that.

He leaned in. "Do you know who I am? Who do ya think you arrrrrre?" the R's went very crazy.

And just in time, as if he was your guardian angel, Tommy opened the doors to the little room beside the bar. Babes was hearing everything and he was NOT gonna let this dude talk shit to his girl like that.

"You need to speak to me? Inspector Campbell, is it?" he said. "I've read about you in the papers."

Tommy then took Campbell soup outside to speak. Before leaving, he (Tommy) gave you a wink and you winked back. You knew that was code for 'let's hit my flat later'. Little did you know, this would be the last time.....

P.S. - when you asked one of the men at the pub who he was and someone replied IRA, you originally interpreted that as the Irish IRS and shat yourself. You didn't know how to tell Tommy your time was ticking, they'd located you - but you were not going down without a fight.

You were both in his bedroom as usual, he was lying in bed smoking, you were hitting the Elf bar, rain pattering, English people yelling outside yeah you get the vibe. Anyway, he asked you to sing - a request you took quite seriously. You knew this was his only time of relaxation and you had to make the best of it before you break the news you needed to escape again.

You rose, sitting up and looking down at his BBL face.

"Lana or Nicki?"

"Lana."

"Can I do Nicki? You never ask for her."

He took a drag and nodded. "Go ahead."

This, now this would be where you fucked up. Let's just say, you wish you could wipe out this night from your memory. Alas, all things need to come to an end, even the good ones, unfortunately. You'd never thought it would be like this though tbh.

You stood up on the bed, as usual, cleared your throat all that bullshit. You thought and thought, "what's a good Nicki song? What's fitting?"

And then it hit you - it was definitely a deep cut.

He had a soft smile on his lips, watching you as you were thinking. Little did he know, you were going to harness a part of yourself you hadn't seen in a while. This was a mode you unlocked that was such a release after, and you knew you had to go all or nothing.

You cleared your throat.

"Okay, so this one's kinda not AS well known, but it has British themes I think work well," you prefaced. "Okay, here I go."

The moment you opened your mouth, you let the spirit of Nicki come in. And once she's in, there's no going back. And Tommy was not prepared for that. You then started Nicki's verse in Sean Kingston's "Born To Be Wild".

"♪ If you will die, then why would you try and if you reply, a suit and a tie is what I will buy then you will be mine because you and I were born to be wild, I am Martha you King Arthur who knew you would land me, I’ve been known to eat these rappers, cook em like chef Ramsey - ♪"

You were too deep to notice Tommy's rapid increasing worry and fear as you spat out those lyrics. It was too overstimulating for him to handle. You ate, but that was just want concerned him - he didn't know you were rapping. In fact, no one at this current time did.

" ♪ - Mission accomplished, your my accomplice cover of vogue yeah ima go topless ima go bonkers ima go crazy ima get reckless then have a baby then hang the baby off the balcony teach him to moon walk tell em he's Japanese - ♪ "

No, he thought you were putting a curse on him. No, he was CONVINCED.

"Stop! STOP!" Tommy rose from his bed, pushing the sheets off of him.

You were shaken out of your trance, confused. You became worried, what happened? Did you miss something? Were y'all in danger?

"Wait, Tommy -"

"Enough! Stop!" you had never seen panic in that man's eyes. Never. And you didn't like it. He was looking straight at you, talking to YOU.

"Stop what -"

"You're a bloody fucking witch!" he yelled, rubbing his hand through his hair while the other TIGHT on his hip. This was his evaluating stance. "That's what this is - that's what it's been."

"Uh, Tommy," you said, more annoyed that he interrupted your moment, "I'm no witch. I'm just, well, Y/N."

He took a deep breath, now facing away from you. He couldn't believe it. All this time, all that mumbo jumbo that came out of your mouth, all this time - they were just that. Curses. No wonder he didn't understand them, you were literally speaking in tongues this whole time.

You walked towards him, slowly. This man needed that opium right now.

"Tommy -"

"Leave. LEAVE!" he yelled, grabbing your messy bun, and doing what you didn't think would happen again for a very long time - he beybladed you.

Spin. Spin. Spin.

"LET IT BLOODY RIP!"

And there it was.

And there you went.

He twisted you in the air round and round, ready for a different kind of liftoff. He flung you out the window, you crashed through and onto the cobblestone streets of Birmingham.

That was it. All these months, all this rehearsing - it all came to an end. On a random Tuesday evening? The Tommy you once thought you knew was no more - after all this time, he never trusted you? Didn't he know who you were? Like dude he watched you be vulnerable at fuck up a tikka masala. TWO of them at that.

Anyway, you realized maybe the entirety of UK just wasn't your vibe, anyway. With this 'IRA' now in town, your ass needed to be grass. Before leaving, you broke into his horse racing betting place whatever it's called and committed a little fun heist, taking all the money. What? A girl needed to sustain herself in this economy. Dog eat dog world shit. And plus, all your stuff was back at his apartment and you were DEF not gonna go back. Who knows? Was HE working for the Men In Black? Wining and dining you to gain his trust and he turned you in? Maybe he did you a favor in the end.

And maybe you could upgrade to the latest iPhone when you got to London with all this horse money? With a shilling and a pound, the possibilities seemed endless.

You walked down the streets, sad, but again more confused and a little relieved, onto your next destination, wherever that maybe. Anywhere Y/N went, it was all just a big adventure of a girl having fun being, well, just a girl having fun in this world. And THAT'S all that matters.

Hope you enjoyed!

xoxo,

~Sam St. Clair

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x y/n #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #fanfiction #imagine #smut #x reader #oppenheimer #oppenheimer x reader

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cohandshake · 3 months

Text

From all the posts going around of what other bands to listen to rather than Wilbur and Lovejoy, there's a few that I'm surprised I haven't seen:

Pat the Bunny and his other projects Wingnut Dishwashers Union, Ramshackle Glory, and Johnny Hobo and the Freight Trains - the epitome of folk punk, a genre that Will was obviously into and inspired by considering he covered a few songs from Pat

I'm not a good person

I'm going home

Whiskey is my kind of lullaby

Your heart is a muscle -> the first song I typically recommend

More about alcoholism

Urine speaks louder than words -> the cover wil did of this is how i found him

Never trust a man who (who plays guitar)

Crywank - another band that was inspo for both the solo albums and Lovejoy, AND another folk punk staple, one of the few I can think of off the top of my head that's british

Welcome to castle irwell

Its ok i wouldn't remember me either

Song for a guilty sadist

Memento Mori

AJJ - especially People Who Can People album

Back Pack

People ii 2: Still Peoplin'

Brave as a noun

Bad bad things

Days N' Daze, Mischief Brew, and Defiance, Ohio are also great folk punk bands that are in the same vein as the ones mentioned above.

misanthropic drunken loner

little blue pills

oh, susquehanna!

roll me through the gates of hell

coffee, god, and cigarettes,

olde tyme mem'ry

I will say, while I could hear the definite influences these bands and genre had on his solo stuff, YCGMA and MSR always struck me as a more tamed version made more palatable for the masses, so while the themes, overall sound, and inspo is all there, I can't guarantee that it's a vibe for everyone

Ren - while not the same genre by any means, I think the vibe could def be appreciated, and if you like up-and-coming artists who've originated on youtube, check him out

Frank Turner - british artist who also makes music that I would considered the marketable version of folk-punk. more positive vibes than others in the scene

Get better

I still believe

I knew prufrock before he got famous

The Libertines - more for those who like Lovejoy. this band has been around for a while, and they've never stopped being insane about eachother. GREAT music, one of my favs tbh, and classic brit-indie 2000s which is what Lovejoy reminded me of.

Can't stand me now -> prob their most known song

The good old days

What a waster

What became of the likely lads

Gunga Din

Sorority Noise

Blonde hair, black lungs

Using

Art school wannabe

Kimya Dawson - if you're looking for something woman-based, she's for you. In the vein of the folk-punk scene (she's actually anti-folk), her and her band Moldy Peaches have been in soundtracks like Juno

So nice, so smart

The beer -> one of the ultimate songs imo

loose lips

#wilbur situation #lovejoy #other bands to listen to

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brooooswriting · 1 year

Note

Hello once again so,

Vada Cavell being high cuz of the whole shooting situation and R finds her past out on the sidewalk takes her home and takes care of her.

ofc if you don't feel like writing this for any reason

delete this

have a good day <3

Hi can I request Vada Cavell x reader where they both get high together and it leads to something more. Thank u I hope you have a amazing day

Higher than life

Vada Cavell x reader

Tw: weed, overdose, mentions of school shootings

You were on your way home from school after another dreadful day, teachers who tried to get the work done while ignoring the obvious pain of the students, consuls who tried to keep the moral up, security randomly checking peoples bag and students anxiously and depressed sitting in class counting down the seconds. For almost all of them it was the first shooting, it wasn’t for you. You moved here a year ago as your parents constantly had to move for their job and before you went here you were in schools in Texas and Ohio (just took random ones, please don’t come for me) where you were involved in shootings.

It still hurt, it still made you angry and mad and it still made you anxious but you knew how to cope with it, better than most. Sure Nick took his trauma and made something out of it but it may be him and around 10 other people while the rest is going down.

You sat in your car at a red light, staring out the window as your fingers drummed against your thigh completely out of space. At least until you saw someone familiar, Vada Cavell, sitting on the sidewalk starring into the sky. You thought for a moment before your turning signal went on and you took a right turn to hold in front of the girl.

Vada wasn’t quite the person you thought of becoming friends with, not that she wasn’t pretty and nice but there was just something about her that made you keep your distance at first. But in the end she just woed you with her humor and those damn pretty eyes, which was how you became friends. After the shooting you guys kinda drifted, just like she did with Nick, as she was always hanging out with Mia and while you actually really liked Mia you couldn’t disagree with Nick. The blond girl wasn’t a really good influence on Vada at the moment, it makes you sound prude. But while you weren’t really against some alcohol and weed you just knew that they weren’t a way to deal with the trauma.

“Vada, what are you doing here?” You asked as you stopped the car causing the brunette to tilt her head towards you. By now you could see her blood shot red eyes and the drowsy look on her face, she was barely responsive which made you hurry out of your car. “Vada, come on, get up” you told her as you tried to get her to keep her eyes open. After another two tries you just picked her up and sat her in the passenger seat of the car before lightly slapping her cheek. She grumbled a bit before slightly opening her eyes, “what did you take?!” You were quick to ask as it was obvious that she wouldn’t stay awake for long. “A lot of weeeeeeeeed” she giggled closing her eyes again, “how much Vada!” You buckled her in before she even answered. “Like… two and a half joints?”

You rolled your eyes as you closed her door, it wasn’t enough for her to have serious consequences. She’d probably throw up in the next couple of hours and then have a terrible headache but nothing more.

You sat behind the wheel thinking about where you would bring her. You couldn’t bring her home like this, you knew her mom and she would make such a big deal out of it. So you decided to bring her to your home, your parents were gone for the next two days anyway.

The drive was rather silent as the small girl next to you was still asleep and you were deep in your head. Normally driving cleared your head but right now you only wanted to arrive to take care of her, seeing her like this scared you, you were scared to lose her even though she wasn’t really yours.

When you arrived at your home you didn’t even try to wake her as you picked her up again and carried her into your bed room where you laid her under your blanket after you took her shoes off before sitting in the living room. After you read a bit you decided to cook something as you knew she’d get the munchies after weed, she always did.

So you balanced cooking and looking after her every 5 to 10 minutes to make sure she was still fine and breathing. It was crazy how many lives on idiot with a gun could ruin and how idiotic it was that this was even possible in America. Every student or teacher you saw that was shaking anxiously broke your heart.

You were nearly done with the pasta and the dessert when you heard some movement in your room, someone running to the bathroom to be more precise. Turning off the stove, you walked to the bathroom to find your friend laying on the ground with her head next to the toilet. “You alright?” You asked as you sat down next to her, taking a bit of paper to clean her mouth. “‘M great” she mumbled sarcastically causing you to smirk. “That’s what you get from overdosing on weed, idiot” you pulled her into a small hug which she gladly accepted as she leaned back into you. “Why don’t you take a shower? You can get some of my cloths and I’ll give you a toothbrush and then you can eat something” you suggested causing her to whine and shake her head. “Nooo, too tired”

You were and at the same time weren’t surprised. She just slept for like 3 hours but at the same time her body was fighting the overdoses. “How about you brush your teeth and eat a bit? Your body needs the energy and then you can sleep again, huh?” You were comfortingly rubbing her back as she kept whining and squirming. “Nooo” you finally had enough as you sat her onto the closed toilet lit and grabbed a toothbrush to brush her teeth yourself. Sure, it was a lot more complicated than her doing it herself but at least it was done.

After you were done brushing her teeth you made her walk into the bedroom while you got her food. “Here, eat at least a bit before you fall asleep again” your tone was strict causing her to pick up the fork and start picking at the food. “You still remember my favorite food” she drowsily smiled clearly showing that there was still weed in her system. “Of course I did, just because you forgot about me the last weeks doesn’t mean I forgot about you” you were truthful, while she didn’t reach out or answered you, you were constantly thinking of how she felt and if she was okay. Her smile disappeared as she guiltily kept eating.

Once she was done you went to put the food away until a hand on your wrist stopped you. “Can you stay please? I don’t like being alone” the look in her eyes broke your heart, so you sat down the plate on your nightstand and laid next to her. Her arms immediately wrapped around you, her head landed on your chest and one of her legs was over yours. You couldn’t deny the fact that you liked the way this felt. Which was probably why it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep too.

At least until Vadas phone started to blow up, texts and calls from her family, you completely forgot about them. Unsure of what to do, you stared at her phone. You could a) wake her up and make her answer the phone, but she was way to tired and high for that and b) was something you haven’t quite figured out.

Luckily you didn’t have to figure it out as your phone started to ring, your display showing the younger Cavells name. “Amelia, hey” you carefully whispered into the phone trying not to wake the girl next to you. “Y/n, do you know where Vada is? She didn’t come home, she isn’t answering her phone, everybody is freaking out” her breath was quick and her voice was unsteady, it was clear that she had been crying. “Oh, I’m so sorry. She’s with me, we fell asleep and forgot to text, her phone is probably on silent. Tell your parents that she’s with me, safe and that I’ll bring her to school tomorrow alright?” Your voice was kind and reassuring. “Okay, thank you. I’m sorry for spamming your phone” you grinned as the girl spoke. “No problem, I’ll see you around ok?”

After you hung up you decided to clean the kitchen before watching some Tv in the living room. The time neared 1 am when you decided to go to bed too, which put you up for another ultimatum. A) sleep next to her, like she asked you before or b) sleep in the guest room. You didn’t quite want to sleep next to her as she was still high when she asked you to do so and you felt like it wasn’t fair as long as she didn’t know how you felt, but you also didn’t wanna leave her alone so you settled into the arm chair next to the bed.

You woke up around 5:45 am to get ready before Vada woke up. You showered, brushed your teeth, did your hair, packed your bag, then put some painkillers and a water next to Vada before starting breakfast.

While you were cooking with your music blasting through the house, the brunette finally woke up. It took her a moment to realize where she was but as soon as she did notice that it was your house she relaxed. She was also more than happy to see the painkillers as she immediately chugged them.

You didn’t hear her walking into the kitchen nor did you notice her standing next to you until you bumped into her, nearly letting the pan fall. “Jeez, you scared me” you said as you put the pan down before turning towards her causing her to mumble a ‘sorry’. “How’s your head?” She groaned as an answer which made you grin, “well, I don’t wanna repeat myself, but that’s what you get for overdosing. Now sit down so you can eat breakfast before getting ready” you told her as you put a plate on the table before sitting down in front of her. “Thank you. For everything, not just for breakfast” her voice was small and quiet.

“Vada, we still have to talk about this” you started and her eyes immediately lowered. “I know that this shit is crazy and I get that it fucks with you, but drugs are not the solution. If you feel so terrible than come talk to me or talk to Nick but don’t overdose. You know how scary it was to find you completely out of it on a sidewalk after not hearing from you for over a week?” You were rambling, you knew that, but you just couldn’t stop yourself. Yeah, the situation wasn’t as bad but that doesn’t mean that it’s okay. “Don’t start this y/n” her voice suddenly turned cold and serious which made you flinch for a second. “Don’t start what?” You were genuinely confused. “Don’t talk to me or scold me like I’m a child” she was mad, more about taking it so far and nearly making you cry than about you scolding her but she didn’t know how to say that.

“I’m not talking to you like a child, you’re grown but that doesn’t make what you’re doing okay” you tried to keep your calm as your eyes watered even further. “You’re right! I’m an adult so I can do whatever I want” you scoffed. “Look, if you wanna hurt me by choosing Mia over me, while I’m pretty sure you know I’m in love with you, that’s fine but if you wanna hurt me, your friends, your family by overdosing then I’ll drive you to Mia. If that’s your plan, then keep away from me and Amelia, she doesn’t deserve this” you stood up and walked into the guest room slamming the door shut.

Vada has never hated anyone more than herself in this moment, how could she hurt you like this? You saved her yesterday, and she only hurt you. She loved you, she did since the first time she met you but she was too scared to do anything and now that she had an opportunity, she fucked it up.

“Y/n, please open the door” there was no movement on the other side, even after the third try. “Look, I’m sorry alright? I don’t know why I did it and it certainly isn’t my plan to do it again. I was confused and overwhelmed and it just destroyed me in that moment and then I thought, just a couple of hits to loosen up. But they only made it worse, I didn’t get chill, I overthought everything and when I was on my way to talk to you I realized that I would have confessed my feelings for you in that moment, I would have told you how much I love you and I was scared that that would ruin everything. So I took another couple of hits and it just kept going like that. But I promise I won’t touch anything like that anymore unless you’re with me. Now please open the door” her words were hectic, not well spoken and some barely understandable but they were true and that’s all that counted.

You opened the door and her eyes immediately met your bloodshot ones. She hugged you tightly trying to hide her own teary eyes. “I’m sorry” was a phrase she mumbled over and over again until you parted. “Can you stop apologizing and finally kiss me?” You asked her with your hands still on her shoulder. She grabbed your waist to pull you into her to finally connect your lips, causing you to melt into her.

This was everything you needed in that certain moment, it reassured you that she was still here, very much alive, and that you could influence her to stop doing drugs. Your lips moved against each other until your timer rang. “We gotta go to school” you whispered, your face inches apart from hers. “Fine” she grumbled before pulling you closer once more.

That day you walked into school hand in hand, Vada a bit less anxious. It was going to be a long way until she would be fine in school and didn’t touch weed anymore, but you promised yourself and her that you’d be there for her every step of the way.

#reader insert #brooooswriting #vada cavell #vada cavell x reader #vada x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader

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bcofl0ve · 1 year

Text

fast car | part 1/?

general series tags/warnings: slow burn, mentions of family history of substance use, implied economic disparity in relationship, angst typical of co-workers to lovers stories, family drama

summary: all things considered you don’t have it that bad. your four year old little boy is happy, and you’re happy- finally in a place where getting out of bed in the morning doesn’t feel like a herculean task. but things could be better, which is why you take the PA job on a movie filming down the road. you can work when jack is in school, bring in some extra money- and be able to say you helped make a movie. unlike your mom insists, you didn’t take the job to ‘meet someone’- let alone austin butler. funny how your mom’s intuition is never wrong.

word count: 2152

i live for comments and love talking about my writing, feel free to pop me an anon anytime!

“Momma, I don’ wanna go to school.”

You laugh a little at how serious Jackson sounds in contrast with how he looks sitting in his carseat in a Spiderman hoodie with matching velcro shoes. He pushes his eyebrows together, arms crossed lightly over his chest. A few hairs from the top knot you'd thrown his hair into fall out and frame his face- that when he’s being indignant, according to your mother, looks exactly like yours.

“Well,” You start as you park the car, looking at him in the rearview mirror as you unclip your seatbelt. “You don’t have a choice buddy, mommy has to go to work.”

His eyebrows go from furrowed to pushed up, the confusion evident on his face. Which is fair- given that for the past year you've been working nights, a neighbor coming over to stay in the house while he sleeps.

"Nuh-uh," He insists, jabbing his pointer finger out the car window at the sun. "Not nigh' time."

“I’m working somewhere different now- and you wanna know something really cool?” You start as you go around to the passenger side door, opening it and helping him unbuckle his chest clip. “My new job is helping people make a movie.”

The job in question more or less fell into your lap- literally, a job posting for production assistants coming off the community information board at your last gig when you were closing up for the night. You'd applied mostly as a joke with a friend, and when she got a rejection email you accepted you would too.

Except you didn't.

The four year old seems to perk up a little at that, taking your hand to hop down out of the car.

“That’s cool momma,” He says, swinging your hand as you walk towards the building that he looks at through squinted eyes. “But I s'ill don’t wanna go."

Chuckling to yourself, you bend down to kiss his head.

“You’ll live, baby.” You say lightly, squeezing his shoulder before directing him into line with the other kids in his class waiting to go inside. “Love love love you, be good, have fun!” You continue a little louder as he reluctantly ran off, watching him for a second before going back to your car.

- - -

Pulling out of the school parking lot, you let the GPS direct you to the filming location that had been sent in the pre-shoot email the night before, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you drive. You feel a little ridiculous for being so nervous. This isn’t a glamorous gig on a Warner Bros lot down the street from Hollywood Boulevard. It’s Ohio.

And yet pulling up to the lot seeing the line of trailers still makes your stomach flip over on itself.

Check in is easy enough, you go through an orientation that feels a little quick with the other PA and tour the lot before being split off. You’re in the office helping make copies off a call list when the woman who had been introduced as a supervisor clears her throat.

Looking up from her phone when you turn your head, her thumbs still linger over the keyboard as she speaks.

“Could you go grab Mr. Butler and bring him to set A?” She says lightly, glancing down to look at the time. “He should just be finishing up in hair and makeup now.”

You nod and finish making the copy you were working on, your chest tightening a little.

There was making copies and there was having to interact with the people in this movie. Which you signed up for, you try to remind yourself as you chew on your lip. And you’re familiar with most of them. Your little sister and self proclaimed theatre nerd had squealed into the phone when she realized you’d be working with Mike Faist, and your mom is a Tom Hardy fan.

Your mother is also an Elvis Presley fan, and saw the recent biopic no short of eight times over the summer. She dragged you with her on round four, and you thought it was alright.

But sitting in a movie theater watching him pretend to be Elvis for three is hours is about the only context you have for the actor you’re walking across the lot to go meet.

The hair and makeup trailer doors are open when you approach, which makes you feel a degree more intimidated. But you step just inside, a girl holding a makeup brush turning to you when she hears the footsteps.

Who you assume to be Austin is in the chair next to her, and follows her gaze as he turns.

The first thing you notice is that he has significantly more facial hair than he did in the movie you saw with your mom.

The second is that you’ve been standing there without saying anything for thirty seconds. Oops.

“Hi!” You exclaim as you clear your throat, standing up a little straighter. “I’m here for Mr. Butler, he’s needed on set?

“Austin is fine.” He says cooly, thanking the makeup and hair team before getting up to follow you. He’s wearing khakis and a leather biker jacket with some patches, the boots he has on putting an extra inch on the height that already has him a bit over your head.

“Sorry, Austin,” You reply and swallow, suddenly so nervous that you have half a mind to be a little embarrassed. “I’ve never worked on a uh- movie set before. Still trying to figure everything out I guess- you know, the etiquette.”

You hear him chuckle as you walk in lockstep, the realization that you’ve been rambling making your face hot, and your gut sink. Way to be Y/N, getting yourself fired on your first day.

“I’m actually probably not supposed to be talking to you at all right now, am I? I’m so sorry-”

“Hey- no,” Austin says he cuts you off, and when you catch a glance at his face you notice his eyes softening. “If I was one of those hard asses that doesn’t want people to look me in the eyes they woulda warned you,” He continues. “And I mean- I’m not. Been doing this for a few years and I still don’t really get those people.”

There's still a hint of a southern drawl leftover from Elvis in his voice, which you find amusing. Alongside finding yourself relieved that he’s being so nice. No getting fired on your first day then after all.

After offering him a quiet thank you, you fall into a comfortable silence until you reach your destination, the parking lot of a rundown bar littered with old cars and motorcycles. It’s quite the sight, and it almost feels like you stepped into a time machine. Out of the corner of your eye you see Austin’s eyebrows go up, the smile his lips are tugged into as he takes it all in childlike. It’s endearing to witness.

You startle when his name being called by Jeff pulls you out of your head.

Austin waves at him from across the parking lot but stops short of running over, turning back to you.

"Thank you,” He says, pausing, and you’re quick to realize you hadn’t actually introduced yourself.

"Oh- it's Y/N." You blurt out, not wanting to keep him too long.

Austin nods, giving you a little mock salute with a “Thanks Y/N, see you around.” before jogging off in the direction of the rest of the cast.

Hanging back, you watch the cast mingle and be directed around to where they’re supposed to be, fascinated by how this whole movie thing actually works. But you can’tt watch for long, recognizing the voice of another PA before you actually see her.

“Hey!” She calls as she comes over, pushing her hair back. Not that you can really pick favorite co-workers on day one, but if you had to it would be her. She introduced herself earlier in the day as Vada, “Yeah like My Girl,”, coming across as an Energizer Bunny of sorts.

And you don’t mind, you actually appreciate her temperament more than the straight edged focus of the others. Though you do find it a little amusing how out of breath she sounds assuming she must’ve run from wherever she was to here “I have to help with extra corralling, they sent me to send you back to the office.”

You give her a nod, more bummed than you want to admit that she gets to do the “cool stuff” and you have to go back to making copies. But it couldn’t all be glamorous escorting of stars all day. There were afterall, other duties listed in your job description.

Thanking her and going to walk away, you scan the set to see if you can see where Austin ended up. Your eyes find him mounting one of the motorcycles, and you let yourself watch for a few seconds as he revs it up, unable to help a smile at the enthused laugh that escapes him as it roars to life.

- - -

“Soooo how was it? My little Hollywood bigshot.”

Your mom croones and you can’t help but roll your eyes a little, holding the phone against your ear with your elbow as you straighten up the living room. It was nice being able to spend the evening with Jack instead of working. But in the interest of not having been able to in a while you wound up letting him run a little wild. And go to bed without having to pick up his mess.

Hence why you were doing it at 10pm.

“I’m a glorified intern- but it was fine.” You say, putting your son’s Hot Wheels cars back in their garage. “Cool to see how the old motorcycles and cars they’re using for different things- Austin was nice,”

The last part flies out before you can stop it, mostly because that interaction was the most interesting part of your day spent mostly in the office. You just about hear your mother’s eyebrows shoot up over the phone.

“Austin? As in Elvis Austin?” She says, and you chuckle. “Yeah, that one. He’s sweet.”

The line falls silent again, and you recognize what this particular pause from your mother is implying quickly. Your face heats up just like it did earlier, a sensation you don’t particularly enjoy.

“Wha-”

“Sweet and single?”

“Mom.”

You groan for emphasis, but it doesn’t sway her from the path she’s already charging down as you plop on the couch.

“C’mon, it wouldn’t be a bad deal if you found someone on this job. I’m sure the guys there are more suitable than the ones at Meijer- bet they’re cuter too,”

“I’m there to work, that’s it.” You try to interject, but she just keeps going.

“And Jackson could use-”

You cut her off more harshly before she can finish that sentence, and start the argument you found yourself having with her at least once a month. Whether she means well or not, it gets under your skin every time.

“Oh don’t even start with that. If Jackson needed a dad his real one wouldn’t have been such a colossal piece of shit.” You punch out, pinching the bridge of your nose.

She tsks on the other end of the line, and you hear a door creak that you can’t identify as happening at your house or hers. “That wasn’t what I was going to say Y/N. I’m your mom- it’s my job to look out for you two and I worry, that’s all.”

Before you can respond you realize the door creak had been from your place, hearing small footsteps padding down the hallway. Jackson emerges soon enough, rubbing his eyes with a little sniffle.

"Hey, mom I gotta go," You rush out and hang up, opening your arms for your son to come to you.

“What's goin' on sweetie, you have a bad dream?" You coo softly as he meanders over, knocking into your knees and letting you lift him onto your lap. A little hiccup escapes him as he nodded.

Mumbling, he presses his face into your neck with a "Scary." so quiet you almost don’t hear it. Rubbing his back, you press a kiss to his tangled bedhead.

This was never part of the plan- not in the slightest.

There was a time where you were certain that you’d leave Ohio the day you graduated high school and never look back. Dropping out of school and moving back into the same neighborhood that you’d lived in since you were little, alone, with a baby in your arms wasn’t on your to-do list.

A quote you saw recently read “Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks in it.”, and how much it resonated made your gut twist.

Because there’s a version of you somewhere in a parallel universe that didn’t have to let go of so much, and you mourn for her a little.

But you love your son to death. That’s your priority. Your only priority.

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#fast car by bcofl0ve #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fic #austin butler headcanons #austin butler headcanon #x reader

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vvyvernicus · 7 months

Text

Beginning of my Winter King x OC fic. Unsure if I'll commit to finishing it to full, but I'll leave it here in case anyone was curious.

Chapter 1: The Winter Star

When thinking of the coldest month of the year, December often comes to mind. All the winter decorations and holiday traditions are promoted most during this time of year after all. But in reality, the months that follow can have much harsher climates. Just like the weather that blankets Ohio in January.

The first snowfalls are beautiful and awe-inducing… for the first couple of days. Then people get sick of all the ice. It's cold, makes roads dangerous for travel and is just a pain to remove when more will just take its place a few hours later. Pure white snowflakes that first fell to the ground have now become coated with dirt and grime. And people will be wishing for spring to take over.

Not to mention when they block the view of the sky. Planes have to navigate through them carefully whenever a storm happens. And the people assisting the pilots from ground level have it even more rough. However these stresses really only apply to people like Yenna Lynn who are air traffic controllers.

With the weather being frequently abysmal, it made their jobs just that much harder. Knowing that lives could be potentially lost only added to the tension. So just what was there to be done about that stress?

* * * * *

“Damn blizzards…”

The brunette scowled as she pulled her winter coat tighter across her body. Not only did these snow storms make directing the airplanes substantially more difficult, but they had prevented her from leaving her work premises. There had only been light snow that morning but no forecast predicting that the weather would turn into this. Then again, it was the snowiest time of the year.

Yenna stared out the glass door which was getting battered by icy clumps from the other side. If it hadn't formed two feet of snow at the base, she might have been brave enough to traverse through it and get to her car. Normally there was equipment used to remove the snow buildup, but only during daylight hours. Unfortunately she was working a night shift. So for three more hours she was to be confined to her work environment.

“Ms. Lynnly, I see you've been taking in the scenery.”

She did not turn her gaze from the window as she knew who it was. One of her co-workers, one that she may or may not have indulged in a few risky acts with to fulfill a temporary way to relieve stress. Despite this, they were definitely not friends. At least not from her perspective.

“What do you want, Jeremy?” she groaned as she tore her focus away from her view of the world outside.

He stood taller than her, but considering she was 5'3, most men she came across did. Though not by too much, only by a couple of inches. It made it easy to make eye contact with him and look into his blue eyes that were eerily similar to hers. Thinking about it made her reminisce of back when she first got the job and people confusing them for siblings for that fact alone.

“You were looking a bit more anxious than usual so I thought I'd pop by to check on you. I'd offer you some of my ‘special candy’, but I know you don't operate that way,” he chuckled as she shot him an unimpressed glare.

While it was true that their job positions could be quite stressful at times, not once had she accepted one of his illicit methods of relaxation. Not only was it illegal, but she was pretty sure if her boss found out she would be fired. Unless he and the other staff were stealthily slipping them as well. Honestly it wouldn't surprise her if they had official doctor's prescriptions for stress relieving drugs.

“We are literally snowed in. Of course I'm stressed out,” Yenna huffed before pulling her coat tighter. Even if they were inside, it still felt blisteringly cold to her. A grin flickered across Jeremy's face as he got a little closer to her.

“You know, we could always… have a little de-stressing in the bathroom. Not like we're on the clock so we have plenty of time to—”

“On second thought I do want some candy. Hand some over, will you?” she said as she gestured for him to slide some into her coat pocket. His eyes widened and he seemed to be in genuine surprise that she actually wanted to take them this time. “Just give me the damn smarties and I'll make sure I de-stress you thoroughly later,” she smiled at him as her fingers began to trail across his white dress shirt.

After that interaction, she found herself in possession of the alleged ecstasy candies. Though she grimaced at the thought of spending another time with him privately. She didn't exactly want the benefits he provided for her anymore. Not that she ever craved them the first time. But now was not the time for her to be thinking of the future.

With the bathroom door locked and secured, she reached into her pocket to take out the baggy. Inside were three round tablets, one red, one blue and one green. They really did bear a strong resemblance to smarties. Though she doubted they tasted the same. She popped the blue one first and was immediately hit with a bitter taste as she swallowed it.

Definitely not candy for kids. It went down her throat easily but then she pondered on if she was supposed to chew it up first. Suddenly panic set in as she worried that in the chance she took it wrong and that something bad could happen. Luckily Google came to the rescue and assured her swallowing it whole was the way to go.

“Thirty minutes to an hour, hm. I haven't eaten anything since lunch so it's got to be closer to thirty right? This waiting sucks,” she then groaned as her body slumped to the cool floor.

This is what her life had come to. Taking narcotics in hopes that life would suck just a little less. If only her parents could see her now. Though she never did care to meet them as they ditched her as a baby. With no familial ties, she was able to focus more on landing a good job for herself. However a six figure salary was starting to seem pointless if she was stressed all the time and had barely any time to do things outside of work.

Sighing, she leaned back against the wall as comfortably as she could. It was quite cold in the bathroom. Even with her hands inside her pockets she felt cold. Maybe the tablet also made one more sensitive to temperatures. No, it had to be because of all the cold outside building up.

Her mind began to feel hazy and weak. The smartie was taking effect and now she could finally be at peace. She leaned down so that her head was flush with the hard floor. For some reason it felt like a cushion of softened snow. The faint sound of the winds howling away outside began to lull her into slumber.

* * * * *

Eventually she had to get up. There was a good chance that people would wonder where she was after being gone for so long. Plus it wasn't a very comfortable position. After all, she didn't want to keep touching the cold masses of snow beneath her.

What a silly comparison for her brain to use to describe the bathroom floor. Sure it was cold, but it wasn't ice. Or wet. At least not last since she checked.

Her body suddenly jolted upwards as her eyes blinked themselves clear. As she gazed at her surroundings, one thing was clear. This was not the bathroom. Nor did it look close to the airport. She appeared to be in the middle of a forest that was covered thick with snow. This… had to be a prank, right?

“What the hell?” she spoke to herself softly as she stood to her feet. “Did someone seriously drag me out in the middle of the woods as some kind of… prank?”

She looked around for signs of people or perhaps cameras filming. It was a weird conclusion to jump to, but she wouldn't be surprised if that happened to be the case. She probably blacked out after taking the drug and a rival co-worker saw perfect opportunity to take the chance. Though this would have to be the most extreme prank someone had caused her to go through. Certainly a step up from putting salt in her coffee.

Then a more likely reason popped into her head. Of course. This was a hallucination. Had to be, no doubt about it. Though was that a even a side effect of molly? She was no drug expert by any means.

“At least I didn't hallucinate my clothes being wet in this lovely weather,” she muttered as her hands started to dust off the snow clumps that had been forming on her clothes.

Touching the ice made her shiver more. Okay, maybe not a hallucination. But she was still holding onto the possibility. It would not be fun to have been stranded in an unknown location like this.

Oh of course! No need to panic since her phone was in pocket's reach. All she had to do was turn it on. Great, still has plenty of charge. Now to Google maps—

“Shit, no service,” she growled as she turned it back off and shoved it back into her pocket with unnecessary force.

Too far out into the wilderness that her phone wasn't able to get a signal. So much for that expensive data plan. As she looked around as her brain argued with itself on which direction to walk towards, she felt a certain pain in her chest.

Every time her heart beat, it felt like someone was sticking a needle right through it. One needle soon became several needles. And soon her hand found itself clutching at her chest. Though it did nothing to stop the pain.

She fell to her knees and doubled over, snow coating her pants once again. Now was no time to be panicking and yet…

It must have been a side effect of the pill she took. Anxiety welled up in her chest and was violently attacking her heart and lungs. She couldn't breathe. And it was too cold. Much too cold to think properly.

“Hey, over there!”

Her head perked up at the sound of the voice. It sounded like it could belong to a young, teenage girls. Even though she was trembling an in pain, she still did her best to pull her body somewhat upright. As she did, she saw too figures gliding towards her over the snowy ground. But as they got closer, she couldn't help but recoil backwards.

“A human woman?!” one of them blurted out in surprise as the pair stood only a few feet away from her.

As she stared at them in bewilderment, their pale blue eyes bore a similar expression. The two were completely identical in appearance. Each wore a blue helmet with a lightning bolt shape coming off the top, blue skirts and cyan blue hair that nearly came down to their waists. Their skin was also completely white and they had long, pointy noses. They also had swords which made Yenna even more wary of them.

“It can't be a human, they all got wiped out during the war remember? Our king told us that so it must be true,” the other said as she looked at Yenna with skepticism.

“Well, maybe not every human did. There had to be at least a few left that he didn't know about. Our king is great and smart, but I bet he doesn't know absolutely everything,” the first to speak replied as she lowered herself to Yenna's level. Yenna's eyes never wandered too far from their hands and weapons.

“Excuse me, but where exactly am I?” she spoke up as she tried her best to avoid showing weakness to these strange creatures. She had no clue what was going on, but for now she had to be cautious if she wanted to survive whatever this was. For all she knew, she could have been hallucinating and stranded in the snowy wilderness. “And dare I ask what you two are?”

Both of their eyes blinked at Yenna before they turned to face each other and then back to her.

“We are…” The two of them began to twirl before holding onto each other's hands. “The Winter Kingdom's finest Ice Scouts!”

The confusion on Yenna's face became more apparent as she watched them strike a pose. What in the world was she supposed to make of this? Winter Kingdom? Ice Scouts? Her reality seemed to be getting more bizarre by the second.

Before she could ask them more questions, pain filled her body once more. Her body felt like it was freezing from the inside out. She normally had a good tolerance to cold weather, so this was a threatening feeling. That stupid drug… she never should've taken it.

“Damnit… I can't feel—”

Her body collapsed onto the ground once again as her legs gave out beneath her. As she fell, the two Ice Scouts rushed to her side immediately. She couldn't quite hear what they were saying as everything became muffled. However she retained some consciousness and did not drift off so easily.

“Quick, Christina! We've got to give her the cloak!” one of them said while looking at her twin companion.

“Really? Her? But what if she ends up being a problem for the Winter Kingdom?”

“We'll figure that out later! But for now let's just wrap her up in it. Our king will know what to do when we bring her to him,” she replied confidently, having full trust in how he would handle the situation.

Yenna began to stir as she felt the coldness in her bones alleviate and her senses returning. Her eyes flickered back open and she immediately grabbed her arms, feeling new clothing on top of her work attire. It was soft, sleek and warm. A cloak that was now covering a good portion of her head and protecting it from the snowfall.

She did not waste time to question why this cloak felt like she was in the perfect climate and returned her gaze to the beings responsible for putting it on her. They seemed happy that she had recovered, but there was the slightest bit of wariness in their eyes.

“You said you have a king, correct? Could you bring me to him?” she asked them as they bobbed their heads in agreement.

“Of course, that was the plan!” They both spoke in unity as they took their places on each side of her. “Let us escort you safely. Then it'll be up to our king to decide what needs to be done.”

Yenna was not in any position to be arguing with them, so she went along with it. If there really was a king here and this wasn't a hallucination, it wasn't a bad idea to get close to someone who held power in this world. But honestly if she truly had the chance… No, terrible idea to try escaping from armed creatures she knew nothing about.

(Total word count: 2,578) If you enjoyed what you read, it helps motivation a lot if you like, comment on or reblog this post!

#the winter king #winter king #fionna and cake #adventure time #simon petrikov #ao3 writer #writers on tumblr #winter king x reader #winter king x oc #original character #oc x canon #y/n #yenna lynn #fanfiction #unfinished #comments appreciated #fanfiction teaser #drug usage #ice scouts

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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 years

Text

Dance with me, Darlin’

Description; Beau Arlen x Reader - After a long case, Beau gets you to open up to him about what’s really been going on.

Warning: Criminal Minds level Violence, mentions of death etc.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When you had first made it to Big Sky, it had been...a journey. Going from working as just a street cop in Ohio to heading back home to Virginia to work as a Homicide detective for a while, to then heading to work with the FBI in their Behavioural Analysis Unit for a while to just six months ago getting a call saying they had a more...calming job for you in Montana. Big Sky, to be more precise.

But that was just the bigger journey of life. The car ride into Big Sky was also kinda hectic.

You had hit multiple pieces of traffic along the way. You had dealt with at least two empty tanks - mostly because of the traffic. And then your car had finally broke down outside of a Private Investigator’s office.

God, that felt like a life time ago.

You, with annoyance clear in your aura, got out of the car. The door slammed a little too hard than you had wished it to behind you, but you couldn’t concentrate on that right now.

At least your home that you were renting wasn’t that far. Maybe a 10 mintue walk?

“Screw you.”

“Is everything okay?”

You turned around to see a dark haired woman and a blonde one stood side by side, clearly just having come from the building in front of you.

“Yeah.” The words came out as both relief and annoyance. “Just this stupid thing. I’ve got extra fuel in the back.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You looked back to her from the trunk of your car.

“I’m Cassie, by the way. This is Jenny.” You shook their hands.

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

The cloud of annoyance had now grown sparse, slowly developing into plain tiredness as you flipped the cap off the fuel tank.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “like I said; this stupid thing. Traffic all the way coming up here...it’s a freaking nightmare.”

“Where are you travelling from?” Jenny asked.

“Uh...Virginia.” you answered. But it wouldn’t have really mattered what you had said since she was round the front of your car checking out your plates.

To be honest, you couldn’t blame her. Some wild stranger breaks down in front of your building? You’d be curious and cautious, too.

“I’m...uh...I’m meant to be starting a new job in-” you checked your watch. Oh, crap. “In a couple of hours.”

“Where are you starting?”

“Police department.” you answered, chucking the closed and empty fuel container back into the trunk and closing the top.

“Oh, I’m deputy Sheriff.” Jenny answered.

“Jenny...Hoyt.” you then looked up to the building sign. Dewell and Hoyt. “God, I-I should have made the connection. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” she smiled. “It’s been a long drive.”

“About four days.” you added. “I don’t fly. I know it’s easier but...I don’t like it.”

“You’re scared of flying?”

“Maybe a little.”

Even the conversation about planes made you on edge.

“Well, you’re lucky. Most things you’ll need are within driving distance.”

You smiled. “Great.”

“I’m just about to head to the station. You can follow me up. They’re doing something on the main road so you’ll have to take the back ones.”

“Okay.” you answered. “Well, it was nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Cassie smiled. “I’m sure we’ll see one another again, soon.”

“Probably.” you agreed.

You’d heard a couple of stories about Jenny and Cassie in the last couple of months before you made the transfer. All good. Mostly badass.

“You’ll get to meet our Sheriff but I have to warn you, he’s a chatty one.”

You smiled. “Kinda gathered.” You had been on the phone twice in total with Sheriff Beau Arlen. Both were pleasent experiences. He seemed liked a good man, and a good Sheriff. You explained all of this to Jenny and Cassie.

By the time you had made it to the Police Department you had already fallen in love with Deputy Poppernak. He was a nice change from the seriously-stern-oak-tree-shoved-up-their-asses cops you’d dealt with in your time. Most of them believed they were Agents at the FBI and had the same power as judges in court.

And it was nice to have a Sheriff who clearly understood his job but still managed to find the light in certain situations.

Working with the BAU and as a cop had shown you how terrible some of them could be at their jobs. How they didn’t actually want the job or how they only took it so they could seem powerful compared to everyone else.

It wasn’t long before you began to feel like you fitted in, in Big Sky.

Whenever you had time, you’d go and hang out with Jenny and Cassie at the Boot Heel - Beau joining 80% of the time. Or you were with Denise in Dewell and Hoyt. She’d tell you all the gossip that was going on in town over a lasanga or tacos. And then, if you weren’t at home on your own, you’d be with Popp in the Police Department. He’d tell you all about his family and fishing whenever you both had to go through boring paperwork.

But that wasn’t to say you’d all had your fair share of dangerous situation.

There had been a couple of cases from three homicides to kidnappings. Your expertise in Behavioural Analysis came in handy on most cases. It gave the department an opportunity to see the crime from another point of view. One they hadn’t fully had before.

But, in recent weeks one case had been getting to you. And that was something they all could see.

From the moment the case came in, your blood had frozen over. It felt all too similar. All too familiar. And when Beau had to pull an old file - a file you had seen too many times to count - that was when the shift fully set in.

Three girls dead. Three more taken in the space of a few weeks. And one of those three died in a ‘fire’ the night before.

For weeks, you worked day and night with the rest of the team. At first, you did everything in your power to avoid the topic. To avoid the case. But you couldn’t.

And that had all come to a head just a few hours ago.

Finally! Freaking finally! He’d been outsmarted. Cornered.

But you were the only one there.

And you froze.

All those years. All those nightmares. They all came down to this man. This sick, twisted, vile man.

His voice just echoed in your ears, over and over as he moved around the empty room, going unnoticed. You didn’t know what to do, where to point your gun? As much as you had him trapped, he had you in just the same position.

“Do they know?” he’d asked you. “Do they know that you think of me?”

Your blood was rushing faster, and faster, and faster. Until finally...Jenny rushed inside. He came out of hiding. And you shot. But not before he shot first.

He couldn’t fully see where to point, but he got you anyway. Just a graze. But he still got you.

Jenny had stopped dead in her tracks looking between the body on the floor and you. She could see the look in your eyes. The same look she’d seen every time they discussed the case. Only, now it was more clear.

It was a look of fear, panic and anger.

“It’s over.” was all you said as she slowly took your gun from your hands which still had it pointing up - but you were slowly lowering it. And, eventually, you managed to make eye contact with her when she placed a hand on your shoulder, too. “It’s finally over.”

Jenny nodded. “It is.” before she looked to the door and saw Beau. He’d checked the man’s pulse. Gone. Forever.

“Hoyt!” Popp called from behind them.

“Is okay,” Beau reassured Jenny as he placed a hand on your other shoulder and arm. “I’ve got her.”

Jenny nodded before rushing to find Poppernak.

“Come on, let’s find a medic.”

You hadn’t spoke a word after that.

Beau led you outside to a medic, standing to the side a little so he could watch them patch you up. You’d live. It might hurt for a few days, but you’d be okay.

And now, you sat in a booth at the Boot Heel.

You would have probably been sat either in Dewell and Hoyt or at home, alone. But Beau had dragged you out to go with him, Jenny and Cassie to the bar. Clearly, this case was more than just a case. And he needed to know why.

“Hey,” Beau knocked your leg with his foot gently under the table. You were sat with one leg and arm up on the back of the booth, your back leaning against the wall as you watched the others in the bar dance to the band. “Talk to me.”

You pulled yourself from your thoughts and looked at him, taking hold of the cold beer beside you.

“What?”

“This case.” Beau stated. “Clearly it meant something to you. I tried to check your records with it and it’s all blacked out. And I want answers. I need answers.”

You sighed. You were going to have to tell them at some point. You had hoped you’d never have to speak of it again. You had a pscheval that cleared you. You had medical exams that cleared you. You were capable of working the case. You had worked the case. But that didn’t stop the reality of something this big hitting you.

“It’s just me and you, Darlin’.”

That was true.

Cassie and Jenny were at the bar being chatted up by two guys.

Beau let you take a moment. You shifted your bullet-grazed arm from the back of the booth chair and place your other leg on the ground before finding the courage - all while scratching the label from your beer bottle - to look at him.

You took a deep breath and slowly began to explain.

“It was back when I worked Homicide.”

“Okay,”

“I was going from case to case. Most offenders left so much DNA behind we caught them soon enough. But then this once case came in. A young girl. 15. Missing. I didn’t worked missing person’s cases but it had made it’s way through to me. She’d been missing for a month an she matched a Jane Doe I had come across about a week earlier. No DNA. No evidence. No nothing. Until one of my deputies came through with a patern. It was our guy. Countless of women across the city. In my part of town, it had only been two women but across Virginia? Maybe 15? Anyway, the case went cold but I kept it open. But then I got the call to join the BAU. I took it but the case stayed with me and then one day...another girl came through. And another. And another. He was esculating. And we thought we had caught the guy - turns out it wasn’t him.”

“How’d you know?”

“I got a package in the mail the next morning.” you answered. It was like it was just yesterday. “A photo, a note and a piece of burnt flesh. Hers. He’d got another girl. We found her two days later. For months we worked on the case and each time we came close but he knew.” You gave a small laugh, an angle of your head and a scratch of the label again. “He always knew. Always just one step ahead of us.”

You paused for a short moment, trying to put your emotions on hold for the next few moments. But Beau just waited.

“Anyway,” you could feel your nerves starting to get to you now. “The case had gone cold. Again. Until I got home after a case in Florida. Everything was normal. I thought I was safe.”

This wasn’t good.

“Until I was stood in my kitchen and was taken from behind. We faught. I managed to grab a kitchen knife and stab him but he found my gun hidden under my kitchen island while I was away. Shot be twice before using my blood to write on the floor beside me. You’ll never catch me. I’ll always be with you. That’s what he wrote. I was in the hospital for a few weeks. But when I went back...it wasn’t the same. One of my teammates, Emily...she’d gone back to my house to try and scrub away the blood but it was like I could still see it. Like I could still see my blood around me and on me. Then, after a few months, I got the call from the Director about a slightly calmer job. They knew I wouldn’t stop working so maybe a calmer situation was best.” You looked back to Beau, a small smile on your face. “And then you called. And I took the job and...now we’re here.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You looked down for a moment and closed your eyes, shaking your head. “Don’t be. I had - well, the Director and I had one of the tech analyisists black out my file. Garcia - even she couldn’t get into it. The team knew most of what had happened to be but some things I wanted to keep to myself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this earlier?”

“I didn’t want to go back.” you answered honestly. “I have enough flashbacks as it is. And my team back in Quantico...they all knew and I could see that look in their eyes. That look that was watching my every move, just waiting for me to explode or crumble. I love them, but I couldn’t take it. And I can’t take it from any of you, either.”

“Well...” Beau made sure you were looking at him. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

You nodded with a weak smile on you face. “I know.”

A few minutes of silence passed between you two. Cassie and Jenny were still busy at the bar and the band was still playing. You were watching people dance on the wooden floors and, as Beau turned back to look at you, he got an idea.

Shifting from his side of the booth, he finished his ceer and held his hand out.

“Come on.”

You looked to him with a small laugh. “What?”

“We’re dancing.” he told you. “Come on.”

“Beau...”

He held out his hand, that look in his eye. He wasn’t letting an opportunity like this pass.

“Dance with me, Darlin’.”

You looked to the crowd with a small scoff - was he really asking you to dance?

“But I don’t know how.”

He gave a small shrug and pout. “We’ll learn together.”

It took a moment, but you agreed and he took your hand, pulling you up and towards the dance floor.

“Like this?” You placed your hand in his and your other on his arm.

Beau nodded, then placing his hand on your waist to pull you a little closer and you both, slightly awkwardly but still comfortable, danced.

He spun you out before pulling you back in and before you knew it, the awkwardness was gone and replaced with smiling faces and laughter.

Meanwhile, back at the bar Jenny handed Cassie a 10 dollar note.

“What-?”

“Look.”

On the dance floor, yourself and Beau were now in a slightly slower dance. Close. Intimate. Or close to it, anyway. Either way, Jenny knew she’d lost.

Cassie smiled widely. “Ah-ha. I knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, gloat all you like.” Jenny took a sip of her beer.

“Before you know it, they’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde but on the good side of the law.”

Jenny pointed to Cassie as she swallowed her beer. “I am not betting you on that.”

“Ten bucks it’s in the next two years.”

Jenny grumbled. “Fine. But this time I am having Denise take note because I’m still sure I won the bet about those two becoming friends.”

“Hell no, I won that one.”

“Whatever you say.” Jenny answered before they both looked back to Beau and yourself.

“They look happy, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Jenny smiled. “They do.”

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fukanouna · 1 year

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request: coming home for christmas (you are my home)

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 1390

A/N: based on this request HERE :) Happy holidays everyone!

---

"You got everything, Nat?"

With a low grunt, Natasha hoisted her backpack onto her shoulders, trying not to wince in pain. "I'm good, Hill."

Maria watched as Natasha subconsciously grasped her left side. She knew the Russian sustained a severe injury on her latest mission, but her friend refused to tell her how serious it was, like always. "You should get that checked." The SHIELD agent received a dismissive noise from the redhead.

"I will. It can wait," Natasha responded brusquely while waiting for the Quinjet's ramp to extend out onto the landing pad.

"It can," Maria agreed. "All I ask is that you don't wait too long." She knew why Natasha was impatient and understood why. It genuinely warmed her heart knowing that Natasha was finally embracing her feelings. "Say hi to Wanda for me."

Natasha flipped her off, to which Maria simply smirked. Eventually, the spy's features relaxed and smiled at her fellow agent.

"Merry Christmas, Maria."

"Merry Christmas, Nat. Now hurry up and leave so I can close the jet before I freeze my ass off."

---

When Natasha entered the compound, she wasn't surprised when Vision phased and descended down from the ceiling. She heard the compound was attacked while she was away, but fortunately no one was hurt and only structures were damaged. Vision volunteered to patrol the area during the nights with FRIDAY to ensure everyone's safety.

"Agent Romanoff, welcome back," Vision greeted politely.

"Thank you, Vision," she returned the sentiment with a smile. "Glad to see you're doing good."

"We have all missed your presence in the compound, especially Miss Maximoff.

Natasha swallowed thickly, feeling her heart tightened at the mention of Wanda.

"Where is she?"

"She in the communal area. The space is beautifully decorated with festive ornaments and lights with a large Christmas and lit menorah set on a spacious table. Miss Maximoff put great effort in decorating, believing you'd love the sight once you've returned. However, last time I patrolled that area of the compound, I believe she had dozed off by the tree."

"I see." Natasha cleared her throat in a poor attempt to hide the emotion welling up in her throat. She wondered how long Wanda was waiting for her when there was no indication of Natasha even returning home tonight on Christmas Eve. It just so happened Natasha returned to the Avengers Compound in time for Christmas. She didn't want to keep the young brunette waiting any longer. "I'll go check on her." The spy flinched when she noticed the synthezoid's piercing blue eyes on her and already anticipated what he was about to say.

"You are injured," Vision noted quietly after a surface level scan. "You have a laceration dealt to your left lumbar region."

"I put on a fresh bandage and antibiotics before Maria dropped me off. I'll be fine," she insisted stubbornly.

To the Russian's surprise, she could see a sort of understanding expression coming from the sentient robot. "Of course. I understand that seeing Miss Maximoff is of great importance to you. I shall take my leave and resume my patrol route," Vision said with a dip of his head.

Natasha waved Vision goodbye as he phased beneath the floor, leaving her alone with her thoughts as she made her way to the communal area. Even before entering the room, she saw the soft glow of the fluorescent holiday lights hung across the walls and ceilings. Red, green, gold, and silvery white overloaded her senses in a pleasant way that reminded her of her childhood wishes to have a proper Christmas like other families in her Ohio neighborhood.

Wanda was fast asleep on one of the Lawson chairs positioned near the tree, legs curled up and wrapped in a scarlet red fleece blanket. She had reindeer antlers on, and the simple sight made Natasha smile as warmth bloomed in her chest. Carefully, Natasha knelt down in front of the sleeping Sokovian and rested a hand on her leg, gently shaking her awake.

"Wanda?" She whispered the name softly over and over until Wanda's eyes began to flutter open. It took the young woman several moments after waking up to realize who was in front of her, and when her vision finally focused and could clearly see Natasha, it wasn't long until tears brimmed her eyes.

"Natasha…?" Wanda whispered, voice thick with emotion.

"It's me," Natasha affirmed gently.

Wanda's bottom lip trembled, and she couldn't help but launch herself at the older woman, accidently knocking Natasha onto her back but into an embrace. The hug didn't last long when Wanda heard Natasha hiss in pain in her ear, immediately pulling back to sit up with worry swirling in her ocean-colored eyes. Though she winced in pain, Natasha chased after Wanda and sat up with her, taking the brunette's hands into hers. "I'm fine." She tried to reassure Wanda with a smile. "My left side is sore, but it shouldn't be infected." Natasha felt her entire body melt when Wanda cupped her face, sighing softly when her thumbs brushed against her cheekbones.

"You're really here… I'm not dreaming, am I?"

Natasha let out a throaty chuckle, bringing Wanda closer so that she was situated on her lap. She wrapped her arms around the younger woman's waist and smirked when Wanda placed her arms around her neck in response. "Definitely not a dream."

"Prove it," Wanda challenged, leaning downward.

Natasha didn't have to be told what Wanda wanted, far too eager to capture the Sokovian's lips in a kiss after being separated for two months. Wanda sighed into another kiss and Natasha took the opportunity to dart her tongue forward, the brunette already granting her access to explore her mouth and deepen the kiss. Normally, this sort of compromising position and Wanda's lips on hers was enough to ignite a fire that burned between her legs, but the soft sight of Wanda in reindeer antlers, an oversized knitted red sweater with a snowman design stitched on the front, and the festive atmosphere surrounding them was more than enough to quell any primal urges. Natasha was simply happy to be back to spend the holidays with her girl.

Once they were temporarily satiated, they moved onto the couch for better comfort for the sake of Natasha's injury. Wanda was huddled happily against the redhead with her head on the latter's shoulder while Natasha had her arm around the younger. Noticing that it was almost midnight, Natasha dug through her backpack to hand over a small box with a tiny bow on top.

"A present for you," Natasha said. "It's not much but… I hope you like it."

Wanda straightened herself and gingerly untied the boy before pulling off the box lid. She let out a soft gasp when she saw the contents of the box: a sterling silver ring attached to a chain with words engraved on the surface:

Ты моё сча́стье

You are my happiness

Natasha watched as pure happiness crossed Wanda's face, but seconds later, her smile faded into a frown and her eyes fell sad, which worried her. The spy wondered if she was coming off too strong with the ring's message, that maybe she was unintentionally burdening Wanda with her emotions. She had no idea how to interpret the sudden shift in Wanda's expressions.

"Natasha, this is beautiful. I love it so much. Now I feel terrible because all I got you was a matching ugly Christmas sweater…" Wanda mumbled despondently, genuinely upset at herself.

A big sigh of relief escaped Natasha and was unable to stop herself from laughing, more at herself for being ridiculous at doubting Wanda's feelings for her. "You wanted us to match," Natasha noted.

"I do," Wanda admitted with a pout. "Please say you'll wear my sweater."

Natasha immediately tugged the sweater over her tactical suit once Wanda gave her the wrapped sweater. Once she was comfy in the knitted garment, Natasha helped clasp the ring around Wanda's neck.

The moment the clock struck midnight, Wanda used her powers to whip up two hot mugs of hot chocolate from the comfort of the couch. Natasha wrapped the fleece blanket around her and Wanda, and together, they talked into the night with their hot chocolates in hand, making up for lost time and spending their first Christmas together.

---

A/N: Sorry if the Russian is incorrect. I googled it. Thank you for reading! :)

#wandanat #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #scarletwidow #request

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limalatina · 4 months

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T A S K # 0 1 - INTRODUCTION.

Alright uni gang, I'm gonna need y'all to listen up and take notes. Auntie Snix has some words of wisdom for all you loners and rejects out there who need my help fitting in while also uniquely standing out. If my 22 years on this planet have learned me anything, it's that you're never too much of a bad bitch to learn some new tricks. So pop a squat, get your popcorn ready, and pay attention because I'm only going to say this once. And trust me, these are invaluable life lessons that will stick with you throughout your extended time here at wmu.

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞'𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 :

𝟏. Your college years are the time to be selfish. Now you may be thinking, "Santana, you've always been self-centered." While there may be some validity to that, college is an excuse to not feel guilty about it. Step outside your comfort zone, act on your own desires. Just don't get arrested for public intoxication. 𝟐. Never show up early or empty-handed to a party. The goal is to appear cool and indifferent, not make yourself look desperate. Frat parties aren't really my scene, but they typically have the best alcohol if you're looking to drink away your problems. 𝟑. Real Housewives is priceless entertainment. If you haven't watched it yet, you need to start. They show reruns on Bravo. If you have watched it and it wasn't your cup of tea, I'm sorry to inform you but you have terrible taste. I bet your favorite show is Breaking Bad or Grey's Anatomy. How unoriginal. 𝟒. Dress hot for a job interview. Practical? No. Effective? Hell yes, unless you're Rachel Berry. It's a miracle how far thigh high boots and a tight-fitted camisole will get you in the bartending biz. 𝟓. Crocs with socks should be a federal offense. If you own a pair, please burn them. Sincerely, everyone. 𝟔. Online shopping is both addictive and cathartic. Just ask my mom. After she found out about my dad's affair, she started buying up those 5,000 piece jigsaw puzzles that take weeks to complete. Not to mention she put all of the funds on his credit cards. That's the kind of petty behavior I admire. 𝟕. Street food in Lima, Ohio is not the same as it is in Miami. I need a lot of spice in my life. If I'm not legitimately delirious and sweating from the heat on my plate, I don't want it. Lima's version of that is buffalo chicken wings smothered in Taco Bell diablo sauce. Check, please. 𝟖. SZA's comeback was the highlight of the 2022. Five years between albums is wild that I have to admit my girl had me stressing for a minute, but her new music delivered. Shoutout to Kehlani for also releasing another banger. 𝟗. Relationships ain't shit, delete your dating apps. If I wanted to be cheated on, I would've set the bar higher and aimed for someone rich like those gold diggers on Real Housewives do. At least then I wouldn't have to foot the bill at the end of the night. 𝟏𝟎. Guys lie to you but girls will destroy your psyche. Not all girls, obviously. Just the evil ones I'm attracted to and date. Consider this my vow to stay single forever.

That's all for now, kiddos. I hope you weren't expecting some profound insight into societal norms or anything like that. It's too early in the morning and I haven't had my daily dose of caffeine yet. I'm just here to keep it real. If you're in the market for any more helpful tips or tricks, hit me up on my socials. And if I have you blocked, best believe it's for a good reason and I would appreciate it if you never contacted me again. Deuces.

#wmutask #𝐢𝐯.⠀ ⸻⠀ ❝⠀development!#( task 001. )

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redlegumes · 6 months

Text

If it's just till St. Patrick's Day: Excerpt from Thanksgiving

Chapter Summary:

An orphan Thanksgiving with their strange family. Steve reveals some new secrets to Eddie. Steve proposes a new arrangement for the holidays which they start. After Thanksgiving, Eddie offers Steve his support. Can be read stand-alone

"They’re just hookups though. Steve put his pants on after and left after. I shouldn’t, agh. That sounds so cold. It hasn’t been that cold. But it’s definitely a ‘friend with benefits vibe.’ Though… Eddie mused, our friendship was always odd too. Forged in supernatural hell. Now that the supernatural hell was gone, he had kinda worried how long their little trauma family would hold on. But here they mostly were, in November, still maintaining various group chats, hanging, and celebrating holidays."

Complete tags and finished fic on A03

CW: Smut, Closeted trans character, Tobacco use, Mentions of (not overtly detailed)- alcohol use, past physical abuse parents, family transphobia, disownment

( 〃● ₃● ) ~ 🍁🍂 🧡EXPLICIT CONTENT AFTER THE CUT 🧡🍂🍁

"Who knows what will be, But I'll make you this guarantee, No way November will see our goodbye"

Mrs. Henderson had set out a big spread. She was hosting a bit of an Orphan Thanksgiving for the ‘family.’ Not everyone was around, Nancy wouldn't be back from Boston till Winter break and Robin was off visiting family in Ohio, but those who were tried to make the Henderson house’s gracious invitation to eat there. Mrs. Henderson apparently hadn’t wanted to travel to see her family that year. She’d bought such a big bird, and said it seemed a shame for just her and Dustin to enjoy it.

Eddie learned all this from Dustin, surprised he made the cut for invites. It was still a big group making time for the evening meal. He and Wayne never did much for the holiday, normally turkey frozen dinners, football (that he didn’t watch), and cheap beer. So after a quick check-in text, he said yes.

Hopper and Joyce Byers were in, which included Will, El, and Max. Jonathan was in school for photography now, but he was coming in from Chicago. Mike got permission, as well as Lucas since his family was having their meal closer to lunch. Family was staying with the Sinclairs that week, and his house was going to be packed. Lucas practically begged for a break from his cousins that would be sharing his room over the holiday.

…

Turkey day arrived, and Eddie spent the beginning of the day hanging with Wayne, just catching up. He drove over afterwards to Henderson’s, feeling a little bashful that he was the last to arrive, the others showing up early to help cook and prep the table. The food was plentiful and damn close to the commercials and movies Eddie’d seen when he was a kid. So this is Thanksgiving. Wild.

He even assumed their ‘family’ followed the classic tropes. Before the meal was set out, he and Jonathan took a little ‘walk’ to wet their appetite. The kids mostly bickered and ran around, some watching the game, others watching a stream in Dustin’s room. Eddie hadn’t expected Harrington there, but then he remembered he had picked up Mike and Lucas. For some reason he kind of just assumed he’d drive off after, to his own Thanksgiving. If this was a regular one Eddie could only imagine a rich people version of the holiday.

…

After the meal, Eddie volunteered for dish duty. It only seemed right since he hadn’t done any of the prep. Steve joined him. Most everyone else had relocated into the living room where a game of Mario Kart had been agreed on. Based on the yelling and the huddle around in front of the tv, it appeared as if the game was in full swing.

Mrs. Henderson wandered over with a shot of brandy for the adults. She patted his cheek and then Steve’s before handing them two little glasses. She delivered some platitudes about it being the holidays and moved on to the next room.

He and Steve exchanged shrugs and grins before turning back to the last pots and pans. Steve knocked his brandy back once they finished washing; Eddie'd waited to follow suit. Steve had hopped up to sit on the countertop. He looked good. Maybe it was just that extrovert glow. Or maybe it's because he's one-on-one with me for the first time this evening.

They'd talked since Halloween. Mostly flirting over texts, which wasn't too new, but things had gotten… perhaps… maybe… just a teensy bit more complicated. Steve had been over to his twice now without booze and slutty costumes to provide an easy excuse for ‘bad’ behavior. They'd done the dirty on a total of three occasions at this point and each time it had been good. We both got off. Hell, more than just getting off. Recalling Steve, fucking him on his bed, instantly made Eddie’s cheeks red.

They’re just hookups though. Steve put his pants on after and left after. I shouldn’t, agh. That sounds so cold. It hasn’t been that cold. But it’s definitely a ‘friend with benefits vibe.’ Though… Eddie mused, our friendship was always odd too. Forged in supernatural hell. Now that the supernatural hell was gone, he had kinda worried how long their little trauma family would hold on. But here they mostly were, in November, still maintaining various group chats, hanging, and celebrating holidays.

Eddie had sat down in a kitchen chair, broken from his thoughts by the tap of Steve's foot on his knee.

"Eddie."

"Yeah?"

Steve’s volume was low, but the house had gotten so noisy Eddie doubted anyone could hear their conversation. "I was just saying it's cuffing season. Look, I’d, ah… I’m good with hooking up for the holidays."

Eddie felt himself do the double take. "What?"

"I know you heard me that time."

"Yeah, but cuffing is a little more than just fucking." Eddie gazed up at Steve, still somehow cool and calm above him. Eddie wanted to run a hand through his hair but he'd tied it up. He settled for picking at a fraying rip on his jeans. Cuffing… that’s practically. Nope. Not even gonna think it.

"We could keep it casual but exclusive. You do like it don’t you? That way we could do fewer barriers. It’s fun, Munson. Been real fun. So, let’s keep it going." Steve winked at him. No no. I am the winker. I’m the bad boy here. Who does he think he is? "I want more, but I like a little structure. And if true love shows up in between for either of us, we break it off. No hurt feelings."

"No hurt feelings? We’re just above tolerating each other as it is." Aren't we? I'm always teasing and pushing. Well, is that it? Is he finally pushing back? What's it gonna be, Munson, he asked himself. Take him seriously or… nah. Obviously more teasing. "Former fuckboy."

Steve snorted. "E-girl wannabe."

"Fantasy footballer.” Eddie stuck his tongue out. “Best you can do, without enough skill for a scholarship."

"Shows what you know. I still didn’t have enough cash to go to State, even with the scholarship."

Why lie about that? "That’s fucking bullshit. You’re a ‘Harrington,’ as in Harrington Law Offices with that, y'know. The awful jingle on the radio." Eddie snapped his fingers but couldn't remember it.

Steve’s face soured, and he slid off the countertop. "Disowned."

Okay. That. That I couldn’t have heard right. "Steve. Wait. What?"

Steve looked at him as though calculations were running through his head. "Not here," he jerked his chin out toward the backyard.

Eddie flicked the light on as they walked out. As soon as the door shut he launched what felt like the first of a few million questions he had. "Since when? Also who knows? And Steve, we can fill out a fucking FAFSA for you. Why not? You can still go to college, man."

Steve stuck his hands in his pockets and jumped a bit in place as though he'd experienced a chill. It wasn’t that cold outside, considering the time of year. "You got smokes on you,” Steve asked instead of answering one of Eddie’s many questions.

Eddie patted his pockets. "Fuck. The pack's in the van."

"That's fine." It didn't look fine. Steve rocked on his feet.

"You sure?"

"I wanted to go on HRT." Steve said, suddenly focused on his Adidas. "I wanted to transition."

Eddie looked over Steve. To his eye nothing had changed. His hair was a little long, but it wasn't as long as Eddie's. He knew Steve shaved all the time, but that was explained as a holdover from his swimming days, and of course now he knew how some of Steve's partners probably liked that but… trans? Eddie knew better. He already felt shitty for ‘looking’ for clues. It didn't matter how Steve presented now. If the 'he' wasn't good for him, she should be able to be a her.

Steve was nervously rambling a little. "Yeah, I won't exactly be treating you to too much if we do hook-up for the holidays. Why did you think I was here and not with my bio family anyway? Family?" He muttered, "this is what I’ve got."

“You want to transition." Eddie hated the disbelief betrayed in his tone as he made the statement. That’s not what he, she? he? needs from me right now. Fuck. Why'd he say wanted? Past-tense. What the hell happened?

Steve finally looked up and met Eddie's eyes. "I did. End of high school, I spoke to my doctor about it and was trying to start shifting the way I present, just a little and… And then I told them… Bye bye insurance, home, financing for college. I would have had to take out too much in personal loans." Steve had turned away from Eddie, head thrown back as he stared at the visible stars above them. "I didn't qualify for financial aid when I was with my folks. Luckily, the car was in my name, so I got to keep that. But… I was homeless for a little and…" Eddie walked around to Steve's front, an urgent need to be in his space. "I mean, I got out with a duffle bag."

Steve's hand went to his face in a gesture Eddie recognized. If he thought of his past battles or his losses, Steve always had to check his face to make sure the cuts had healed and the bruising had gone away. It 'grounded' him, Robin had once said.

That motion with that story. "They didn't," Eddie gasped. He held the hand on Steve's face with his own, gripping Steve's waist with the other.

Steve's big eyes met Eddie's. He whispered, "I can take a hit."

Eddie's eyes raked over Steve's face. He held him a little tighter. "You can dish ‘em out too."

"Not in that moment." Steve chuckled, and he let his hand leave his face. He shifted it to hold Eddie's hand and shrugged. "That's what he wanted. Restraining order with an assault charge strapped to it. Make things a lot easier to explain versus, 'I disowned my son because he was trying to be my daughter.' Easier for others to digest. Though, I guess they say whatever they want about me now." He shared the last piece of information as though he was contemplating it for the first time.

"Steve." Eddie dropped his hand and flung his arms around him, holding him as tightly as he dared. "I can't believe… this whole time you’ve been on your own like that. Who else knows? Why? You've never said."

Steve pulled back a bit to shake his head. "Eddie, you know why."

Because he would've had to have said why they did it. Explained. Eddie looked hard at Steve's saddened but resigned face. He thinks his plans for his future, including transitioning, died that night. Jesus Fucking Christ.

"Robin knows about everything. Dustin knows something happened and about my apartment. Hopper probably knows that I'm cut off and living independently, but he was a detective basically so..." Steve sighed, and Eddie watched him brace, as if he was waiting for some sort of rejection. "Now you know everything too," he said softly.

Eddie looked at Steve’s big eyes glistening magically like they did, even under the poor strength flood light in Dustin Henderson's backyard. Guess I was always kinda right. Eddie had privately believed that eyes so starry and big could only exist due to princess powers. His heart broke for the sweet princess in his arms. He couldn’t help but be reminded, standing in each other’s embrace, that Steve was very, very pretty.

He kissed him, and, at first, Steve tensed. Then he relaxed in Eddie’s hold, letting him kiss deeper. Steve’s lips were just as welcoming and sweet as the last time they’d kissed. Okay… Eddie had made a decision. I want this.

He let them part, stifling a little moan when he did. "’Cuffed’ or ‘exclusively hooking-up’ so shit isn’t so bleak with all that holiday Hallmark crap plastered everywhere. Whichever, whatever. I'm in. Okay?"

Steve bit his bottom lip and then ran a hand up the side of Eddie's neck. "Okay," he whispered back. They kissed again till Steve got anxious that someone might come out to get them.

Eddie felt as though he couldn't care less, but there was pie waiting inside to be considered.

…

"How's the apprenticeship going," Hopper asked.

Eddie was moments from taking a huge bite of pumpkin pie, but he set it down to answer Hopper. "It's fine, and no nights. So, in theory, I could gig again when I want to."

"You with a wrench seems like a menacing image," Hopper replied. Eddie knew him well enough now to know when he was fucking with him. He stuck his tongue out and went back to his pie. The mechanic apprenticeship was going well, they paid him to learn a trade. All in all, a good deal from where Eddie was sitting.

Dustin piped up. "You should see him with a guitar."

"Will you play some tonight," Mike asked.

There was a general begging from the table, and Steve appeared at his shoulder. He held out Eddie's keys that had been in his jacket pocket and dropped them in his lap. "He'll play. There's always a guitar in the van."

He knows me too well. "Fine. Yes, but a total of three requests only! And then whatever I want until I get tired. So you better get to brainstorming."

He returned with the guitar to find the family had split into teams.

Hopper, Joyce, and Mrs. Henderson requested 'Alice's Restaurant.' Eddie played a few rounds of the chorus for them. He didn't know the whole thing and didn't want to try. It was a goddamn long 'song.' His boys and Jonathan requested 'Hellraiser' next 'cause they were good like that. After came Steve, crouched on the rug between El and Max. He smiled wickedly up at Eddie.

"Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go."

"No," Eddie said firmly.

"Yes," hissed his traitorous audience.

But they cheered and he relented. Damn my vanity.

Steve watched intently when Eddie played. Even now, settled between the girls, he knew there was that spark between them as Steve watched him perform. Imparted in that instant was the knowledge of who would be following him home that night. It made it hard to focus, but Eddie managed to finish his requests and strummed through whatever came to mind afterwards. Everyone in the house had settled down, full and content. The evening was at an end.

…

There were plenty of hugs and 'happy Thanksgiving's' on the way out the door. Mike, Lucas, and Will were staying the night, and Jonathan had driving duty to ferry them back home in the morning. It gave Eddie the strong feeling his wishbone wish went through.

He put his guitar back into the van and waved at the Hopper-Byers group filling up their SUV. Steve leaned against his car as Eddie closed his back van doors.

"Angel, you having car trouble? 'Cause I never work on German automobiles." Eddie leaned back next to Steve. "But for you…" He made a show of looking Steve up and down, checking him out. "I could make an exception."

Steve fluttered his eyelashes and pushed up off the vehicle. "Mmm, lucky me." He dropped into his driver's seat and shut the door.

The hell? The car started but didn't move as Eddie walked to the driver's door, and peered in to see Steve smiling. Tease. He lowered his window and Eddie leaned down. "Your place or mine?"

"Yours?"

"Heads up. Nothing else is getting stuffed tonight baby." Ate too damn much.

"That's fair. But you forget… maybe I'm still hungry." Steve looked at Eddie's crotch and licked his lips.

The lethargy Eddie had felt after the pie melted away. Excitement pumped through his veins, waking all of him up. Fuck-buds for the holidays. Perhaps this is a brilliant idea.

He drove back to the apartment far too fast, grateful there were rarely cops on the back roads. Eddie locked his van, unlocked his door, and went straight to the bathroom to freshen up. He'd finished when he heard Steve knock and enter. He also heard the sound of the deadbolt turn.

He walked out of the bathroom and looked back over his shoulder at Steve standing in his little hallway. "Hey, do you want to change into something with an elastic waistband?"

Steve had a flirty little smile on his lips. "God, Munson. Where were you hiding that kink?"

Eddie smacked his lips, walked up, and slid his arms around Steve's waist. "Oh no. Sweatpants and a cock like yours? That's not hidden baby."

Steve pulled back Eddie's hair to rest his lips on Eddie's neck, just below his ear. "Then I'll have to slip into a pair."

He resisted the urge to do more in the moment, moving instead to the bedroom. Eddie rummaged in his drawers for a pair of promised sweatpants and threw them on the bed. Steve was just about to reach out and grab them when Eddie pressed up behind him. "Can I help you?"

"Now that you mention it, I could use a helping hand." Steve stood back upright and undid his jeans, letting Eddie help him push them down, followed swiftly by his underwear. Steve patiently stood still as Eddie eagerly pulled off his shirt and then his own. He left his pants on and wrapped one hand around Steve's chest, pulling their bodies close together. Steve angled his head back, seeking Eddie's lips as his free hand wrapped around Steve's hard cock.

Steve moaned as Eddie held him, jerking his cock, pressing his own denim covered erection against the bare swell of Steve's ass. His lips ranged over Steve's neck and shoulder, murmuring into his skin every promise he wanted fulfilled for Steve that night. "I want you to bust in my hand baby, feel it against my chest when your spine tingles, give you that release, let you melt back into me. You beautiful angel…"

Steve moaned, and Eddie tugged at a faster pace, keeping his hand at the same firmness. He wanted to wet it some but was loath to do anything that changed their position. Instead he sucked love bite after love bite onto Steve's shoulder. He let his short nails rake across Steve's chest and with a shudder and a cry, Steve came. Eddie drew up his hand to catch what he could, waiting for the last pulse of his cock before letting Steve go. Steve turned and sat on the bed.

"How did you make a reach around… Fuck.” Steve was flushed, his pretty lips wet and pink. "Eddie, my legs are literally weak."

Eddie could feel himself blush a little as he cleaned off his hand. "I didn't know that you would, dry… I, um. No shame in admitting it I guess…" He rubbed his hand across his mouth. Damn. Am I getting self conscious over my body count? "I've been getting cocks off for a bit now."

Steve looked up at him with big eyes and pouted. "Eddie. I'm still hungry."

Christ. Eddie unzipped and lowered his pants and underwear that time. Steve pulled Eddie's hips forward till he stood between Steve's knees. He ran his lips over the side of Eddie's cock. He teased the wet pleasure of his mouth by tonguing the whole of the underside of Eddie's cock, from balls to tip. Eddie flinched, fighting the urge to grab and manhandle Steve.

Steve seemed to know he was holding back. "You can put your hands wherever," Steve said sweetly. "I trust you not to choke me. Three taps for out, two for slow, one for keep going."

"You have been a naughty thing, haven't you? I'd've never guessed and now you’re sitting so pretty, holding my cock, telling me your non-verbal signals." Before Eddie could tease him more, Steve had wrapped his lips around Eddie's member and had half his length sucked into his mouth. Steve's mouth met with his hand around the base of Eddie's shaft.

Eddie's hand shot out and buried itself in Steve's luscious hair. Eddie held his head in place, so that he paused Steve's motion. He wanted to savor the depth a while longer, the tongue pressing against his cock. All fluctuating pressure and spit. He liked the precautions Steve had set up for himself. He wasn't as worried about gagging him when he started to lightly pull on Steve's hair. Eddie pushed his head forward and back at a varied pace. Steve's mouth slid and sucked obediently, focused on Eddie prompts.

"That's good baby. Who taught you to be so good," Eddie asked. Steve's eyes shot up to look at him. Light brown irises nearly imperceivable, Steve's pupils had expanded so much. They were a little teary too, making them glisten even more than normal.

Eddie couldn't tear his eyes off of Steve either. Mouth stretched, gazing up at him, so focused on his pleasure. So pretty and pink cheeked. "Lovely," he whispered. "You're so lovely, baby."

Steve kept going, and Eddie lost himself to the sensation. He kept his hand on Steve's head but let him continue at the depth and speed he'd last set. It was all consuming. Eddie barely recognized when it built so high he finally spilt over. The delight etched in his body in waves, as Steve sucked his release down.

Steve's voice was a little graveled when his mouth popped off of Eddie's spent cock. "You're teaching me gorgeous. You're teaching me how to be good for you."

Eddie felt like his heart stopped before pounding at high speed again in his chest. He leaned down and angled Steve's head up, index finger curled under his chin. Eddie kissed him softly. "Very, very good Stevie." Steve's face rapidly covered in a blush, and Eddie felt a grin spread across his own face.

They both put on sweatpants, Steve threw his undershirt back on, and then he lay down in Eddie's bed. Steve stayed the night.

…

Now that Eddie was looking for it, little pieces of dysphoria seemed to be everywhere.

The way Steve was always more comfortable with the girls than he’d been with his buddies on his sports teams. Those friendships hadn't stuck, but with Nancy and Robin... Steve talked to them on the daily. Any guy could be protective of his friends and kind to kids, but all the maternal jokes and the babysitter ribbing now sprang to mind. Any guy could care about his appearance and fuss with his hair, but now Eddie couldn’t help but think how proud and pleased Steve was over the length of his locks and look. Those things didn't make him a woman, they were just parts of Steve. Yet… don't those details mean a little more now?

Out of everything Eddie considered, if he knew anything about Steve it was that he would put aside his own discomfort and pain for others. The longer Eddie dwelled on the matter, the more he felt like it was deeply fucked that Steve had abandoned his transition. Steve had shoved it to the side as he worried about having to get by, and killing Vecna, defeating the Mind Flayer, and caring for the kids. How much of his stress had piled deeper? How much had he struggled with that core element of himself… herself?

When Eddie woke up with Steve still in his arms, sound asleep that Black Friday, he was determined to help her however he could. He hadn’t asked her yet about pronouns, but mentally he’d already made the switch. She deserved the help to be herself. I want her to be happy. I want her to feel whole.

Chapter continues *•.🍁.•* Keep reading on AO3

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #ao3 fanfic #i write things #smut #eventual trans fem steve Harrington #future stevie Harrington #trans fems can be tops is this fics secret agenda #found family #thanksgiving #Steve's still hungry #coming out #happy ending #stranger things #the whole gang #cuffing season

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