#bess and chance

[biggs-regretti]

Rescue mission! ft. Passion Pirates!

[kanerallels]

37!

37. Bess is Tim's sister. Ehehehehehe this one is so so specific. Okay so I had a dream that Elizabeth McCord (main character of Madam Secretary) was Tim Bradford's (one half of Chenford, from The Rookie) sister. And it just kinda stuck in my head. Namely, the following two concepts:

Tim, being the private, fame loathing guy he is, making his sister, the actual hecking Secretary of State, promise to never come to LA unless there was an Actual Emergency. Since Tim nearly dies at least once per season, this results in a lot of phone calls where Elizabeth goes "THAT'S IT I'M COMING TO LA" and Henry (her husband) and Tim have to calm her down a little

Elizabeth's dislike of Tim's girlfriend, Ashley

Anyways I had a ficlet living in my head, so here you go!

“What are you doing?”

“I’m keeping you company,” Lucy said as she settled into the chair next to his hospital bed, and Tim’s eyebrows went up.

He hadn’t exactly expected that when she blew into his hospital room, demanding why no one had told her about his surgery. Asking where Ashley was— which he hadn’t been able to answer, not truthfully. Even with knowing that the relationship was over, it still hurt to see her walk away.

But this was Lucy. He’d long since learned not to be surprised at how often she did the unexpectedly kind thing.

“You don’t have to do that,” he told her, giving her a smile that hopefully said, “thank you but you have had an equally long day and this is your chance to leave”.

She gave no signs of understanding that. Instead, she met his eyes and said, “I know.”

Of course she did. Tim couldn’t help the flash of gratitude that was really more than gratitude going through him, any more than he could help the way his eyes stayed on hers for a moment longer than was strictly necessary.

But instead of dwelling on that, he listened to Lucy talk, about her day and how she’d wrangled Smitty and the other cops into helping her, and about nothing in particular, and he let himself rest.

This lasted approximately 47 minutes.

Tim was in the middle of scoffing at Lucy, who was busy insisting that he was completely wrong about the best cop movie ever— which he wasn’t. It was hardly his fault that she had bad taste— when they heard voices outside of their room. And one of them sounded… familiar. Oh, no, Tim thought. Please, tell me she didn’t.

“Who is—” Lucy began, and then stopped short as someone pushed open the door to Tim’s hospital room.

And by someone, he meant Elizabeth McCord, Secretary of the United States of America.

Also known as his older sister. Whom he had expressly forbidden to come to LA under any circumstances.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, shooting her a scowl.

“Wow,” Elizabeth said, lifting her eyebrows at him in the older sister scolding expression she was so fond of. It also worked very well, which was annoying. “That’s the thanks I get for flying five hours to see my brother?”

“It is when I specifically told you not to,” Tim said. “Life threatening circumstances only, remember?”

“I do,” she told him, moving in and closing the door behind her. “Do you remember that you told someone to call me right before you went into surgery?”

Frowning, Tim said, “I didn’t do that.” Did I? His memory of the past few hours was fuzzy at best, and he couldn’t be totally sure that he hadn’t asked Ashley to call his sister. “Okay, maybe I did,” he admitted. “But crisis averted, I’m fine. You can leave now.”

“What— Tim!” Lucy protested, giving him an “are you out of your mind” look. “Your sister just flew five hours nonstop to see you, and you’re just gonna chase her out of here?”

Tim glared at her as Elizabeth gave her a smile. “Thank you,” she said, in her warm way. “You’re Lucy, right? Stevie told me about you after her trip, she said you were very welcoming.”

“Yes, that’s me,” Lucy said, and Tim could see her expression lighting up the way people always did around his sister. Elizabeth had inherited all the real people skills in their family, leaving Will and him blunt and uncompromising. Tim didn’t really mind. It was almost fun to see the way she could charm anyone.

Of course, it was easy if that person was already one of her number one fans. “I’ve got to say,” Lucy added, “I’m a huge fan of you, and your work. You’re just an inspiration, the way you’re fighting for change and to help people, it’s amazing, and it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Oh— thank you, that is encouraging to hear,” Elizabeth told her. “It’s an honor to meet you, too. Anyone Tim has mentioned more than once is officially celebrity status to our family.”

It wasn’t often Lucy looked anything like giddy, but this was definitely growing close to that. “I— wow, thank you,” she said, grinning. “Um— I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Let me give you two some privacy. I was just meaning to go get some coffee. Do either of you want some?”

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” Elizabeth assured her. “And if you see a couple massive guys in suits waiting outside of the room, assure them I’m not dead.”

“Right,” Lucy said. “Will do. Back in a bit.”

Shooting Tim a grin, she headed out of the room. As the door closed behind her, Tim said, “Congratulations, she’s not going to talk about anything but this for the rest of the week.”

“She’s very sweet,” Elizabeth said. “And from what Stevie says, she can handle you and your nonsense.” Dropping into the chair, she arched an eyebrow at him. “So. No Lifeguard Barbie?”

“Her name is Ashley, as you well know,” Tim said, scowling at her. “And no, we— I sent her home.”

He must have used up all his convincing expressions on Lucy, because Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. “You realize I was in the CIA, right? And I’m currently raising a teenage boy? I can see lying a mile away.”

There wasn’t much he could say to argue with that. Letting out a short sigh, Tim said, “Ashley and I… we broke up.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “I see,” she said slowly. “What made you decide to end things?”

“She broke up with me,” Tim said, and Elizabeth’s jaw dropped.

“What— you’re kidding me! What made her think she had the right, exactly?”

“Seriously?” Tim wasn’t sure if he should laugh or roll his eyes. “You do realize she’s perfectly within her rights to do that. Also, you never liked her, so why do you care?”

“She dumped my brother,” Elizabeth grumbled. “It’s the principle of the thing.” She was silent for a moment, then said, “I may not have cared for her, but I am sorry, Tim. I know you liked her a lot.”

He had, it was true. But even before this, he’d known things weren’t… right. Her opposition to marriage, the way she wanted him to retire already. And just an overall feeling, like things didn’t fit right.

And really, he knew why that was.

“Thanks,” he told Elizabeth, pushing the thoughts away. “But it’s for the best, really.”

“Well, I happen to be sure that you’ll find someone else. Someone much better.”

Tim started to roll his eyes and make a comment about platitudes, but there was something far too confident about her remark. Like she knew something— something he definitely didn’t want her to know.

That’s impossible, he told himself as Lucy reappeared, carrying a cup of coffee, and Elizabeth yielded the seat to her. There’s no way she could have figured that out— even I’m not sure about that.

But, watching his sister talk to Lucy, Tim had an odd feeling that he was wrong. Elizabeth almost always knew more than she let on, and this could very well have been one of those situations.

Mentally, he resolved not to ask her about it unless he absolutely had to. She would be completely insufferable if she found out she was right.

[gorewound]

For the record: I thought that every single sailor from both boats were doomed to be dragged off and mauled to death while their distant and ever softening screams signal only how long until the next man is taken, when I incorrectly assumed the boats were being stalked by a perfectly ordinary and mundane polar bear.

[quill-pen]

Modern!Bess: *wraps Eb into a hug and kisses him soundly* 🥰I love you so much, I'd follow you on foot over a mountain to seek asylum in a different country with nothing but the clothes on my back.

Modern!Eb: 😕Darling, you know you're not supposed to watch 'The Sound of Music' without me.🥺

Bess: 😭I know, but the Cratchit kids were begging me! They used Tim's sad puppy eyes against me!

Eb: 😧 The deplorable fiends!

[killerkillerkillher]

Bound to Fall in Love

Angel/Demon! 141 x reader

Tags: kidnapping, sacrifices, religious references, reader is too angry to die, reader commits murder lol, canon typical violence??, reader gets a kissy on the forehead, a tad crack-ish

Inclusivity tags: reader is referred to w he/him and they/them pronouns, no bodily description, no y/n

A/n: call my brain an apple w all the worms it's got. This was just a blurb at first, but I made room in there for me to potentially make it into... something I guess.

minors dni!

"Cole, I can't fucking focus while they're just... staring at us like that."

"Ignore it, Bess. We have to finish these candles."

You wish a bolt of lightening would come down and strike all three of you at once. Or maybe the building spontaneously combusting would be better. Anything, anything, would be better at this moment than watching your boyfriend and best friend work together to light a summoning circle after having tied you up in your sleep.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if any gods are watching, if any of them would be willing to give you a boon and allow you one last chance to punch both of these betrayers in the face.

"Okay, okay, the book," Bess mutters, going to the pick up her ritual book from the coffee table you bought. Honestly, if they were going to try to sacrifice you somewhere, your living room is one of the most disrespectful places. Probably right under your bed room.

"I'm sorry," Cole has the gaul to look down at you with a face stricken with grief. Like you're dead already. "We didn't know what else to do. We're both in bad places and you've always been so good to us, so we figured-"

"You better hope this fucking kills me." You grunt. Cole's face melts into a glare. "Because if I'm still breathing, it's going to take more than Satan's intervention to save you from me. I swear on my mother." You jerk forward, making him jump back a step.

"Cole...?" Bess looks at you, then up at Cole with unease. Cole doesn't say anything for a second, sorting his feelings out with a leer before turning to her.

"Read the book."

He drags you into the middle of their pentagram while she sings Latin words off the old book pages. The candles flicker and waver before their flames grow twice as tall. Cole rolls you onto your back and pulls a knife from his back pocket.

"I meant it when I said I'm sorry," Cole mutters. You snarl, but don't jump at him like you want to.

"Yeah? Yeah, you're sorry? Kiss my ass!" You shout over Bess's reading. "If I'm still alive after this, I'm killing you and burying you in the fucking septic tank!" You crane your head up so you can see Bess as well. "Time to get some stuff off my chest, yeah? Bess, I fucked your older brother on the day we graduated."

Her eyes go wide, and she almost stops talking, but Cole shoots her a look that forces her to continue.

"And his friend Carl, the one you had a crush on. And Cole? I never. Fucking. Finished. Ever! You are the only person I've dated who couldn't get me off." Cole's hand's twitch around the blade.

"Are you serious?"

"Does now look like a time to- ack!" You don't get to finish because Bess finished the spell and it was time for your blood to fuel it. The blade buries in your gut, turning this way and that way at measured increments. You just lay there and twitch, breathy gasps falling from your gaping mouth, the pain only throwing fuel to the fires of your rage.

"Please, we call you here! Honor us with your presence!" Bess chants. Cole step away from you when the candles roar and your vision is filled with bright red and orange.

The ground beneath you rumbles. Whispers fill your ears, nothing you can ever imagine understanding, but something tells you they're other summoners. Or maybe little souls of those who were just where you are now, with a people sacrificing them.

It's odd, you think as blood soaks your back, your hair. You thought you'd be more scared in what could be your final moments. But there's only anguish where there should be fear. Only unfettered violent tension felt in your muscles, and a tongue hungering for iron and gore. You're jaw is wound tight enough to shatter your teeth.

If you could think straight, if you weren't about to die, you might be a little concerned. Never have you wanted to sink your fingers into someone's soft bits as much as you do now. This is normal, right? A normal amount of rage for the people taking your life.

Something in your gut tells you it's not.

In the fog of your rage, you missed the appearance of a pair of men above you. They hover, leathery plum colored wings sagging. One wears a leather strap harness across his chest, while the other favors an unbuttoned silk shirt. One of them looks at you curious as the fire dies, steam and copper colored smoke bellowing from his mouth. A thick cigar hangs on his lips.

"You came! There's... two of you?" Cole gawks, then falls to his knees beside Bess. You can't help but scoff at their sniveling forms.

"We did. There are." The one without the cigar brushes back his long mohawk to get a better look at the whimpering humans. They're nothing new to them, just another set of weak little things looking to get something without putting in the work for it.

Well, they might have had to put in the work to capture you, based on the way you still squirm and fight the rope keeping your arms together. So much blood has left you. You are going to die. Yet you spend your last moments doing what most humans find to be a waste of precious time. Being angry. It's interesting.

"What do you want?" The bearded one in the silk shirt grunts out around his cigar. Bess lifts her head just a bit to speak.

"We want to make a trade. A soul for a better life for us."

There's a moment of silence. You blink your heavy lids, growing too tired to do much else anymore. Both demons look back at you, then to the kneeling humans.

"They're not dead." They say at the same time.

Bess and Cole stiffen and finally chance a glance at you. You're bleeding, a glassy look to your eye and a smile on your face, but you're not dead.

"See, Bess?" You cough up blood only to swallow it back down, "what did I tell you? The cunt can't make me come and can't... can't even make me go."

The mohawked devil pops a wicked smile, not even hiding it from his would-be contractors.

Cole fumes. "I can finish the job. Fuck, am I going to finish the job." He stands, moving to step into the circle only to yelp, the invisible border around the summoning circle becoming visible if only to shock Cole back.

"Not so fast," the bearded one spawns a scroll in his hand. He's eyes glow a molten orange as he scans it. "Section 1, clause 3, part 19 states: executioner(s) must sacrifice one(1) human soul to contractee(s)... Let's see... Here it is: Sacrificee(s) must be dead upon arrival so that proper collection can be done. If sacrificee(s) is still soul bond upon arrival, then they are made the true contractor and all work will be conducted with them."

"In other words," the mohawked one grinned, "you should have went for the heart." He taps at his chest.

"Or the neck." The other devil offers.

"Or that vein in they're thigh."

"The sephenous, Johnny."

"Yeah, that."

"No, no!" Cole grabs at his hair as Bess looks like she's about to start crying. You want to laugh. They deserve the despair. They deserve the horror in their mistake. They were going to kill you!

"That means," the devils lean back to look at you. "You're our contractor. You get two requests at the price of one, human. I suggest one of those requests includes healing you." He flicks the ashes of his cigar on your leg. You don't even have to think of what you want most right now.

"I want you to untie me." You roll on your side. They wait for the rest. Cole and Bess look like they're going to shit themselves from the pale faced looks of terror they give you. Your eyes narrow. "And a hammer. A old fashioned iron and wood handled hammer."

Another beat of silence before the infernals bend over in laughter. The room shacks, sulfuric smoke pouring from their mouths to funk up the room. Cole tries to cox Bess to her feet while they're distracted. Their feet can't move though. It's like they're glued in placed and no amount of pulling and tugging could get them loose. Shame.

"Yer a funny one, love. I'll love having your soul for a few eternities." The one in leather floats over you, tilting his head this way and that way to get a good look at you. You settle him with a neutral look. "My name is Johnny. You sure that's what you want? I think you've only got a few minutes left in you."

"Then let's hurry this up a little, huh?"

"Ooh, you heard 'em." The cigared one snickers and snaps his claws. Two contracts appear in front of your face, both written in a language you can hardly comprehend. A pen appeared in front of your mouth. "Sign on the dotted line please."

You take the quill in your mouth, dip it in the blood beneath you.

"Rah 'ere?"

"Mhm."

You lean forward to dot the paper with your sloppy signature, but bizarrely enough, it seems like the powers that be have decided that they haven't made enough appearances. The floor trembles, and you worry about your poor infrastructure for a fraction of a second, when a set of gold doors spawn right behind you. You roll back onto your back to intake everything. You swear you're hallucinating when a pair of white winged angels step out, the clouded blue of heaven at their back.

"Hello?" You greet stupidly. You must be losing your mind, right? What the fuck is happening.

"Do not sign a thing." The bronzen angel instructs. "Human, we are here as messengers. God sees great things for you in your ascension. Please do not squander that to these demons." He shoots a sharp look at the demonic pair. The angel's counterpart wears a white cloak, obscuring all but his glowing golden eyes. You half expect him to sing "Be not afraid." despite you actively shitting bricks.

Oddly enough, their appearence seems to have some sort of healing property. Your lethargy starts to clear and the blade in your gut starts to get pushed out. Nothing hurts anymore.

"Oh, so we've got a big soul on our hands here, huh?" Johnny smirks. "Price, what's the plan?"

Price the devil throws his cigar to the ground and crushes it.

"Do what we do best. Bargain."

"Don't play with us, Price." The shrouded angel grunts. He's got a mind piercing voice that's got your head ringing, and you swear it echoes despite the room being well furnished. "We can provide them with just as much, if not more, at no cost of their soul." Those gold orbs land on you. "All we ask for is your faith."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You tug at your bonds with renewed vigor. The angels wince at the mention of their Lord, but only watch as you force yourself upright. "I could not give a rat's ass who gets what! How about this? First one to get me free and a hammer in hand gets my loyalty."

There's two resounding snaps from either side of you. The ropes disappear, a hammer is in your left and right hand. You don't think deeper on what that implies. You finally stand, dropping the hammer in your nondominant hand, and march over to the two people you thought you could trust. They kneel now, seemingly ready to beg for their souls.

"Come on, don't look scared now." You drop your hands on your hips. "What happened to you finishing the job?"

"I didn't want-"

"Say it with your chest." You poke his breast plate with the iron hammer head.

"I didn't want it to come to this!" Cole yells. The divine audience doesn't say anything about it. They watch you curiously as you bounce the hammer in hand. Your soul is visible to them. What should be a glowing ball of light is a red and white morning star, all sharp edges and pulsing like a heart. Your soul will certainly not end up with the others, that much is true.

"I just... I couldn't keep up with you! Your life style, the way you act, your job. I never left good enough. Bess expressed the same thing and we just... clicked. We would have just left, but we could have never lived without struggling, so we just..." He swallows. You can't look at him anymore, hands clenching at what he says next. "The book called for someone we cared for."

''That supposed to make me feel better?" You tilt your head. Cole winces, eyes falling on your feet. You look to Bess. "Thought you were better than this. You were going to kill me. Because what, I was happy? I loved both of you, you could have just talked to me."

"We're sorry! What more do you want?" Bess sobs. You straighten up, bouncing the hammer on your hip, acting like you next action is something to deliberate. You already know what they deserve, and a flash of sadness bubbles in your chest, but it quickly passes as a hot, searing emotion burns a hole into what little hesitation you had left.

"Reckon I want your souls after all the shit you've caused." You grin before swinging the hammer back and caving in Cole's chest.

"Fuck..." is all you can say after everything is done. Cole and Bess lay in a bloody heep, all recognizable features destroyed and crushed. You pant, hands trembling and nothing but white noise and static crunching around in your head. You just killed your best friend and boyfriend. For some reason, you've never felt so light.

Someone's whistle gets followed by a clap.

"Impressive. Done that before?" Johnny chuckles. He floats closer, hand running down your back as he moves past and pokes around the pulped organs. "Shite, did them right in. Can't tell which is which."

"I've never-" you start to answer, but hands are clapped onto your shoulders, shocking you into silence.

"Well, that was a good place to start, lad. Your swings were a bit sloppy, but we can fix that." Price squeezes at your trapezius, massaging the stiffness out of them. A throat clears, and Price sighs like he forgot there was other company.

"We aren't finished. The human is our ward now, Price." The uncloaked angel snaps his finger, pulling you from Price and making you spawn between the two angels. The bronzen angel smiles down at you with teeth so white you could damn near see your reflection.

"There you are. It's nicer to have you close. My friend here is Simon and I'm-"

"Come on, Kyle, you know he's ours!" Johnny spits, his wings flaring out. "We gave him the hammer first, so piss off."

"Uh...huh." Kyle's smile falls. "I think you're a bit mistaken. Look, after executing the human's request, I have his name here." A stone slab appears in front of your face. It's smells like sunshine and warm grass. What the fuck. "His pledge to the Lord has been set and his soul already has a place next to Their throne."

"Right, right, like we don't have documentation neither." Johnny huffs. The stone disappears as a scroll appears next to the devil. The smell of sulfur and smoke wafts over to you. "His name is right there, pretty boy. Getting yer fuckin' lookers on."

Kyle ignores the rude tone and does pull out a pair of reading glasses to go over the scroll. You stand there in the silence, a little too scared to speak up. What could you do anyway? In a blind anger, you didn't really have the mind to think any of this out. Angels and devils are fighting over you because you'd stupid ass was too blood hungry to think past murder. All that can be done is for them to figure this out amongst themselves, and for you to wait for the sentencing. Heaven, or Hell?

"...Simon." Kyle slowly pulls his glasses off. "This is legit. His soul is promised to all of us."

You glance up at Simon, the scary motherfucker. He blinks. Once. Twice. Then pinches the bridge of his nose with a hagard sigh.

"Shit."

That's not good.

Johnny laughs, Price grinning like a dog with a bone. Kyle marches over to you, patting your shoulders with an awkward smile. His demeanor reminds you of the way your mom acted when she said she was going to divorce your dad. And all you can think is "Not this again." Are you going to be spending your afterlife going between heaven and hell forever? Does God get weekends because Their day is Sunday or whatever?

"We need to go and talk this over with some superiors. We'll clean this up," Kyle snaps and the gore is gone, so is the ritual circle and candles. "And we'll get back to you in the morning." He places a feather light kiss on your forehead, and suddenly you're squeaky clean and in the softest set of pajamas you've ever worn. "Stay safe while we're gone and don't allow these two to influence you. Get some rest."

"Blah, blah, blah," Johnny mocks from the sidelines. Price tilts his head, and there's nothing but amusement behind those eyes. Yeah, this is exactly like your parents divorce.

"O-okay? I mean, I'll try." You shrug.

Simon nods. "That's all you can do." He steps back into the golden doorway and Kyle falls in stride. You make some distance, and with a final wave from a white toothed angel, the doors shut with a slam that shakes the house's foundation.

"Just you and us now, stud."

You turn with a comedic slowness to the devils. Price chuffs and floats forward. His assess you, takes you in in all your fluffy white pajama glory, and it seems he finds what he wants when he nods.

"Guess we've got to talk with top brass to see what's going on ourselves. Pity we couldn't stick around longer." The devil's eyes never meet yours, staying glued to various parts of your face. They hop from ears, to your eyebrows, down to your lips. Christ on a bike, is it getting hot in here? His blue, glowing cerulean eyes appear to flash with something.

"Shite, yer right." Johnny groans. "I hate going down there."

"Suck it up, love. You know how I feel about sharing." Price drops his interest in you like an old toy and takes Johnny close by his waist. You watch with a lead poisoned stare as their noses touch intimately, words you can't hear being exchanged. It's kinda of awkward to just stand there and watch but your brain isn't really functioning well enough to tell you to stop.

"Hey, stud." You blink, refocusing on the pair. Johnny seems to have climbed his partner, his legs on his waist and arms around his neck. Price makes busy opening a portal to hell in your livingroom with one hand, supporting Johnny under his ass with the other. "Sit pretty, yeah? 'll be back before those two arseholes, promise."

"Right... yeah." You nod. "Uh, be safe?"

"Be safe, he says." Price mutters. "Cute." Johnny waves until Price steps through the infernal hole and falls from view. The portal closes right behind him so you'd have no hopes of seeing anything but the red hue of smog and dust.

And here you are. A little dazed, a little sad, probably holding back a break down from the last hour of events. But you're alive and you're healed. There's no blood to clean, you're in comfortable pajamas. Could probably sleep right now if your brain would stop for a minute, but it doesn't look like that's in the plans.

So you look for something to do. Cole and Bess and moved around all your furniture to make the summoning circle. Guess you can start there, right?

[astrophileous]

hi! is there any chance you could write a scenario for spencer with a plus sized reader? love your writing! congrats on the milestone and happy birthday month 💕

tyyy so much anon 🥺❤️ I hope you're happy with how this turned out 💞

Warning(s): fem!plus-sized!reader; I legit think there's no warning for this. not even swearing. but pls lmk???

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer looked down when he felt you shuffle against him. "Cold?"

The two of you were lounging on the couch with Spencer sitting on one of its end and your head leaning on his chest. Your legs were curled up on the cushion underneath a tiny blanket, the flimsy material barely doing anything as you pressed yourself even closer towards your boyfriend, trying to chase the warmth from his body heat to combat the chill running down your spine. Spencer noticed what you were trying to do and instantly tugged at the other blanket on his lap, laying the material gently around you and smiling when he heard you sigh in appreciation.

"What about you, Spence?"

"I'll be fine. I run hot."

"Mmh. Can't argue with that."

Spencer squeezed your thigh in response to your cheeky remark, your whole body shaking in laughter before you focused your attention back on the TV screen ahead.

It was a rarity for Spencer to find himself home safely at 8 o'clock on a Friday night, not to mention to have you home at the same time as him instead of at the ER tending to patients. On nights like this, Spencer made sure to always cherish the time with you in whatever way you liked, even if it meant he had to sit through nearly five hours of a Hallmark movie marathon after stuffing his stomach full with greasy Chinese takeouts.

The man was head over heels in love with you, and he would do just about anything to keep that mesmerizing smile permanently on your face.

"That's adorable," you said breathlessly after a few minutes of silence.

Spencer didn't want to admit that he had just spent the last ten minutes getting absolutely gobsmacked by your beauty, so he quickly tore his gaze away and directed it back towards the TV screen. His confusion only tripled in size when he saw that nothing particularly stood out from the scene. It was just another shot of the two main characters having yet another one of their silly little arguments as a cheesy jingle played in the background.

"What is happening?" Spencer asked at last.

You glanced at his question and scoffed. "You weren't paying attention again, were you?"

Spencer had the audacity to grin, and it was pretty lucky of him to have been blessed with such a pretty face that could melt even the hardest ice around your heart.

"Okay, handsome. Listen carefully. So, what happened is, the girl—"

"Bess?"

"Yes, Bess. Well, she and Aidan decided to meet for lunch to talk about the deed to the land, right? But that talk didn't really lead anywhere as they ended up fighting, again, and Bess walked away from the restaurant. Aidan ran after her and they fought again on the sidewalk, but then they got interrupted by the rain."

"Of course. The rain. How original."

You hid your bemused smile before continuing, "The two of them ran for cover in this little bookstore after that. Bess was shivering because she was wearing this little black thing, and Aidan noticed. So like the gentleman he is, he took off his suit jacket and gave it to Bess. They both ended up spending a couple of hours in that little bookstore waiting for the rain to stop, and Bess wore Aidan's jacket for the rest of the day. She didn't notice she still had it until she went home in the evening."

Spencer nodded along as he waited for your recount to finish, expecting to find clarity by the end of it only to be met with an even bigger confusion than before.

"I still don't get it. You thought that it was adorable that... they got caught in the rain?"

"And they call you a genius?" you teased, shrieking when Spencer lunged forward to tickle your sides. "No, silly. Not the rain. The jacket."

"The jacket?"

"Yeah. I think it's nice." You smiled, your eyes crinkling as you turned back towards the TV. "I've always loved that. When the guy gives something of his for the girl to wear. His T-shirt, his jacket, his sweater. Anything. The girl would wear his clothes and they'd usually look too big on her and it all just feels so... domestic. There's a sense of belonging in the gesture itself, sort of a non-verbal way of him claiming the girl as his. A little territorial, perhaps. But I personally find the whole thing adorable."

After he was done hearing your explanation, Spencer found himself at loss for words. "I didn't know that. That's actually a thing?"

"It's a pretty common trope in romance books and movies. One of my favorites, too."

"And you like that? Having your boyfriend lend you his clothes to wear?"

"Well, I don't know. I, uh, I actually never tried it myself." You suddenly grew bashful as you started playing with the hem of your pajamas top. "Everyone I've dated has always been smaller than me, so I never got the chance to experience any of that."

"Sweetheart—"

"Relax, Spencer. It's fine," you assured him. "I'm not sad about it. Do I feel like missing out sometimes? Yes, maybe, but it's not like it's the end of the world. I'll survive just fine. Promise."

You resumed watching the rest of the movie after that, the short conversation being shoved to the back of your mind as you relished in the final scene of the movie where the guy, finally and inevitably, managed to win over the girl with an arduous chase through the airport concluded by a romantic confession in front of gate 4E.

After movie night on Friday, the following week unraveled in a hectic frenzy for you. The ER where you worked saw a full house nearly every single night, forcing you to take not only one, not two, but three extra shifts in a single week. By the time the next Friday rolled around, you were exhausted beyond belief, collapsing face first into bed as soon as you arrived home without even waiting for Spencer to get back from his week-long case in Idaho.

The following morning, you woke up to a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. You followed the scent in your sleepy haze until you came face to face with your boyfriend standing behind the stove, unruly curls and a handsome smile as he glanced up at the sound of your footsteps. You couldn't even imagine how dishelved you looked in that moment—with dried drool around your lips and pillow imprints on your cheek—but the way Spencer assessed you from the distance, it made you feel as though you were meant to be sculpted as a flawless copy of Aphrodite herself.

"Good morning, gorgeous," your boyfriend greeted as he pushed a plate of pancakes across the counter. "Breakfast?"

The two of you spent the entirety of breakfast telling each other about your respective week while enjoying Spencer's pancakes that, surprisingly, tasted even better than they smelled. After the dishes were washed, Spencer grabbed your hand and started leading you back towards your shared bedroom.

"Come with me for a moment. I wanna show you something," he said.

You trailed after Spencer in curiosity, compliantly fulfilling his order to sit on the bed as he vanished into the ensuite. Three minutes later, Spencer reappeared in front of you, donning a grin so enormous that it nearly distracted you from the foreign pair of clothes he had changed himself into.

"What do you think?" Spencer asked enthusiastically.

"What do I think?"

"Yeah!"

"It's cute, Spencer. Is it new?" Spencer nodded eagerly, confirming your suspicion. "I see. It's kinda... too big for you, don't you think?"

The hoodie Spencer was wearing came in your favorite color, but it hung on his lanky frame almost like a poncho. Spencer still looked good in it, though. You admired his talent to still appear attractive even when he was wearing something that didn't fit him properly.

"I picked out a bigger size on purpose," Spencer revealed, taking off the hoodie before extending it towards you. "Here, try it. I went two sizes above your usual so it should feel roomy."

Your perplexed stare zeroed in on the clothing in Spencer's hand. "Wait. I don't understand. Did you buy this for me?"

"Um, no? Well, technically yes." Spencer rubbed his neck, suddenly turning sheepish as his gaze found your eyes. "Remember last week when you told me about girls borrowing their boyfriends' clothes? And how you never got to experience that? Well, I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I went ahead and ordered this hoodie for myself but in a larger size. That way, you can steal it from me from time to time. Have something of mine you can wear when you want to."

Silence descended into the room in the wake of Spencer's declaration.

His heart was a sonorous thumping inside his chest. Spencer waited for you to say something, but your voice never came. It wasn't until the first sob broke through the quietude did Spencer realize that you were actually crying.

"Sweetheart? Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?"

The man knelt in front of you in no time, his palm clenching at the side as if he was ready to go into battle to fight whatever or whoever caused the shed tears in your eyes. You lifted your head just enough to see him, smiling shakily when you saw the taut lines above the bridge of his nose.

"I can't believe you bought this hoodie for me," you muttered once your sobs had subsided.

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief. "That's why you cried? Because I bought you a hoodie?"

"It's not just because of a hoodie, Spence. It's the fact that you cared. You listened to my silly thoughts and you remembered." You brought your hand up to cup his cheek, feeling him melt against the touch. "This is the nicest, most considerate thing anyone has ever done for me."

"That just breaks my heart, gorgeous. You deserve so much more. I'm literally doing the bare minimum."

"No, you're not. You're doing so much. You're doing everything, Spencer."

You kissed him, then. Urgently and vehemently; trying to convey just how intensely your heart felt for him. When you pulled away, Spencer was wearing a big smile undoubtedly identical to your own.

"I love you so much, Spencer. You know that, right?"

Spencer's smile blossomed. In his heart, he sketched the way your face looked in that moment to burn your beauty into the depth of his mind.

"Not as much as I love you, sweetheart."

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [32] - Viscaria

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Honesty makes bonds stronger. 

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of trauma and violence.

Word Count: 4000

Series Masterlist

The following week was very chaotic, and that was saying something considering what this whole season had been like so far.

Daphne was back from her honeymoon and had a lot of things to share with you, and you weren’t sure if you were ever going to be able to recover from that conversation. It was one thing to know and hear that nightly activities were -as Daphne had called them- pleasurable beyond words and it was another to know despite they were pleasurable beyond words, you still hadn’t…

Consummated.

Because Benedict had told you once that he would only touch you when you fell in love with him and you were not going to get rejected again.

The other thing was that Anthony had tempted fate that night apparently, because now everyone was talking about Colin and Marina. As Lady Whistledown had written on her society paper, Marina was pregnant from another man and she had been since she had got to London. Once the news had broken out, her courtship with Colin was brought to an end immediately and she was sent away from London by the Featheringtons to the countryside and as far as you had heard from Eloise, she was to marry the brother of the baby’s father, since the father was dead.

You shuddered to think what that poor girl was going through.

Colin was quite heartbroken but as Benedict had told you, he was slowly getting better. He and Marina had had the chance to talk before she had left for the countryside, so you figured that had to have cleared out the air at least a little.

Not for the ton, of course. That scandal was to keep them busy for at least a month if you had to guess.

As if all that wasn’t chaotic enough, both Bess and your aunt had decided that they would throw balls back to back; Bess’ ball was tonight while your aunt’s was next week, and you had spent the last week rushing from her house to Bess’s to make sure everything was going smoothly.

“I have a question for you,” Lottie said as she flung herself next to you. You still had hours until you would all go to Bess’ ball, so you had decided to relax in the park a bit. Though you were supposed to focus on your book away from the crowd under a tree, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Benedict who was in a deep conversation with Margery and Henry before you frowned and turned to see Lottie better.

“Yes?”

“So you know how everyone is talking about Marina being…” she lowered her voice, “pregnant out of wedlock.”

“Hasn’t escaped my notice.”

“But how?”

“Sorry?”

“I thought one was supposed to be married to become with child.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Well not—not necessarily,” you managed to say and she took a deep breath.

“I asked mama.”

“Oh dear God.”

“And she says it is an act full of love and desire that should only happen once you’re married.”

“Uh huh,” you said, looking around in an attempt to distract yourself. “Oh look at that, a butterfly—”

“What act?” she cut you off and you let out a whine.

“Lottie.”

“What happens when you’re married?”

“You know what, that’s a really good question,” you pointed out. “And the better question is; why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Because you’re married,” she answered. “Not to mention, even before you got married you and Benny have been…”

“Debauched?”

“Full of desire,” she whispered and you felt your cheeks burn. “Even before your wedding, you two—”

You cut her off, careful to keep it quiet. “We didn’t do anything before the wedding!”

Nor after, now that you thought about it.

She lowered her voice. “But you kissed.”

“Nothing more!” you whispered back in a haste. “And you’re telling me you and Anthony did not?”

She repressed a proud grin, trying to keep a straight face.

“Perhaps.”

“There you go!”

“But that’s not our subject right now,” she said. “I forgave you after lying to me for months and you will keep it from me?”

“Lottie…”

“My two best friends and the love of my life lied to me, and now you keep another thing from me.”

“You’re devious,” you pointed at her, causing her to smile at you sweetly. “You really are.”

“I’m just hungry for knowledge.”

“You and I seem to have that in common,” you murmured. “Lottie, it’s just…it’s a pleasurable act.”

“That causes one to be pregnant?”

“Not always,” you said. “Marina’s was just bad luck I’d say. It’s only on specific times if you do that act that you become pregnant, it’s a mystery. I heard people say there are ways to prevent it as well, she must have not known.”

“And?”

“And,” you cleared your throat. “When you’re in love, and you desire that person and they desire you back…It’s—well, it’s divine.”

Or so I heard.

She thought for a moment.

“And you knew all this when you married Benny?”

“I didn’t grow up in the ton,” you said. “People talk about it more back in the countryside.”

“And Benny knew as well?”

“…Mm hm,” you pressed your lips together to keep yourself from laughing but she still saw the look of amusement on your face.

“What does that mean?”

“He’s very well practiced, and that’s the only thing I’ll say about it.”

“You know,” she mused. “There was a lady and one of Benny’s friends during my debut two years ago who were caught in an inappropriate situation at night in her bedchambers, and at their wedding breakfast I asked Benny what that situation was and he only laughed and told me I’d learn after I got married.”

“Wise words from the ton’s horizontal refreshment,” you muttered and she tilted her head.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

“So it’s pleasurable then?” she insisted. “If it is with the one you love?”

“Not to quote Benedict, but you’ll find out soon enough,” you said with a small grin. “Anthony and you will be married before the season is over, you know it as well as I do.”

A bright smile curled her lips, then she took a deep breath.

“I still haven’t forgiven him.”

“How much longer are you planning on making him suffer?”

She let out a giggle. “I would never make him suffer,” she said. “My heart is his completely.”

Your grin slowly faded when your gaze drifted to Benedict chuckling at something Margery had said, then joked back, making Margery laugh. Henry had to have walked away so it was just the two of them, and you felt the bitter taste of jealousy burn your throat before you looked at Lottie.

“So um—are you going to forgive him then?”

“I’m hoping to talk to him tonight at the ball,” she said. “He is coming as well, no?”

“Oh all of them will,” you said. “Even Colin, apparently. Benedict is dragging him there.”

Lottie nodded slowly, then stood up.

“I’d better see if my siblings are up to something, excuse me,” she said and walked away from you. Benedict saw her out of the corner of his eye, then said something to Margery before rushing after Lottie, no doubt to try to talk to her considering she hadn’t forgiven him yet either. Margery looked around, then waved at you and approached you.

“Well hello there,” she said and you offered her a smile.

“Hello.”

“Riveting read?”

“Not quite, but it’s a good excuse to keep myself busy,” you said and she shot you a smile.

“Understandable,” she said. “Can I join you?”

“Sure,” you said and scooted over so that she could sit down.

“We missed you at the party last week,” she said. “Why didn’t you come with Benedict?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I was quite busy,” you said. “At the ball. But he says it was very much fun.”

“Oh it was!” she said, pressing a hand over her chest. “You really should’ve been there Y/N. Jane throws wonderful parties, you simply must come to the next one, I insist.”

“I will,” you said. “And are you coming to the ball tonight?”

“Absolutely,” she said and let out a laugh. “Benedict was just joking about how he has never seen me dance and he has this theory I’m terrible at it. He says he will see at tonight’s ball.”

You could feel your stomach doing a flip. It didn’t really mean anything, nor was it something that was ought to make you feel this jealous but—

Alright, this was ridiculous.

They were friends after all, so of course they were to joke around, there was nothing for you to feel bad about. You cleared your throat and smiled.

“Does he?”

“My mother used to give me these endless lessons until my dancing was perfect,” she made a face. “I hated it, but I do admit it comes handy at the balls.”

“Things we do for the ton,” you said as your eyes fell on Benedict who was making his way to you and Margery stood up.

“I should leave you two be.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to—”

“No no, it’s no issue,” she said. “I should find Lucy anyway. See you tonight Y/N.”

“See you,” you said as she walked away, and you watched Benedict come closer to you.

“The ton’s horizontal refreshment?” he asked and you repressed a laugh at the look of complete puzzlement on his face.

“You talked to Lottie?”

“Talked at her before she—did you seriously call me the ton’s horizontal refreshment?”

You shrugged your shoulders, adapting a look of complete innocence.

“I could’ve called you the town harlot,” you pointed out. “But I’m nicer than that.”

A laugh escaped from his lips and he motioned at your side. “May I?”

“Of course,” you said and he sat down beside you, making your heart skip a beat.

“So what brought that on, exactly?”

“She was curious about what happens when one gets married,” you said. “You know, with the Marina scandal and everything.”

“Ah,” he said and paused for a moment. “And what did you say?”

“Well I certainly didn’t say she would learn after getting married, which is more information that you gave her,” you pointed out. “Hypocrite.”

“It was not my place to inform her on that,” he defended himself and turned to look at you. “Please tell me you didn’t tell her it’s unpleasant.”

“Wh- of course I did not!” you said in a haste. “Everything aside, I don’t want to listen to Anthony whining about it.”

Benedict made a face. “Let’s just stop talking about that because I do not want that picture in my mind.”

You hummed. “How is Colin?”

“He’s heartbroken but he will pull himself together,” he said. “I’m not sure if Anthony will though. Third scandal involving our family in one season.”

You shrugged. “So far.”

“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I honestly think that he might have a heart attack if another scandal happens, and I do not want to be a Viscount.”

You grinned at him before you saw Margery and Lucy walking by the park out of the corner of your eye, and lowered your glances to your book, smoothing out the corner of the page. Benedict frowned.

“Are you alright?”

“Hm?” you asked, lifting your head. “Oh yeah, sure. Just thinking about tonight’s ball, Bess put so much effort into it so I hope it goes well.”  

“I’m sure it will.”

“And uh—Margery is coming as well?”

“They all are,” Benedict said. “Should be fun.”

You tried to smile, then nodded your head.

“Yeah,” you said. “Should be fun.”

                                      *

In all honesty, it really was a fun ball. Bess was a wonderful host, albeit a busy one because you hadn’t had any chance to talk to her or Josie or Andrew for that matter. You had hoped to talk to Lottie but you barely had the chance to see her before she had excused herself from the ball after one dance, saying she was still tired from the park. Anthony had left around five minutes after Lottie had, but they were the only ones because every other guest seemed to be having so much fun.

Felix had somehow convinced you into being a part of the next dance which required you to switch partners every once in a while, and you were now paired with him while Lucy danced with Henry and Benedict danced with Margery. You let out a laugh and let him turn you as the dance required.

“An artist and a good dancer,” you said, taking a step forward with him. “Full of surprises, are you not?”

“I hope my art skills are better than my dancing skills,” he said with a smile and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not complaining,” you said. “Any new paintings you have been working on?”

“Just drawings,” he said. “And you? Have you discovered a new flower yet?”

You scoffed a laugh, “Mm hm, I’ll name it Felix,” you said. “And when will I see the drawings? Or does that privilege only belong to my brother-in-law?”

He suppressed a smile and stole a look at the dancing couples, and you winked at him.

“You two are such close friends after all,” you said airily as he held out his arm and you put your hand on it. Felix grinned.

“We talk a lot about art,” he played along. “He has many interesting ideas. It’s quite inspiring.”

“I’m sure it is,” you said, still smirking and clapped your hands together along with other couples, then switched partners and Henry smiled at you.

“Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“Sir Granville,” you greeted Henry and put your hand on his shoulder. “Having fun?”

“Quite so, you must give my gratitude to Lady Hadfield,” he said. “A wonderfully planned ball.”

“There’s nothing Bess can’t do wonderfully, except for keeping her plants alive,” you commented and let him twirl you before you took a step.

“Our lovesick couple is back in the honeymoon phase then?” he asked and you shot him a lighthearted glare.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“No?”

“Not at all,” you said with a smirk, stealing a look at Lucy who was now dancing with Benedict, “We were simply enjoying the fresh air.”

Henry chuckled, then you both clapped your hands and switched partners, Benedict grabbing you by the hand to twirl you, making you giggle.

“Hello Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Hello to you too Mrs. Bridgerton,” he grinned at you, “How are you on this fine evening?”

“Enjoying the ball, and yourself?”

“Enjoying the sight of the most beautiful lady at the ball as we speak,” he said and you scrunched up your nose at him, ignoring the burning in your cheeks.

“Ever the romantic,” you teased him. “I should write you a sonnet or something, to pay back the favor. Can’t have you covering that whole front.”

He let out a laugh and you both circled each other as the dance required.

“A sonnet,” he said. “That sounds lovely. Will you carve it on a stone with a knife or something?”

“That does sound romantic now that you mention it,” you said. “And a stone can be a weapon as well, so you would have a sonnet you can actually use if need be.”

“Ever the practical,” he teased you back and you both clapped hands along with other couples, the music coming to a stop. Laughter and chattering filled the dance floor as you dropped a curtsy and Benedict bowed.

“Come on, let’s grab drinks,” he said and offered you his arm, and you put your hand over it so that you both could walk away from the dance floor. Benedict grabbed two glasses from the tray, then gave one to you.

“Is Lottie alright, do you think?” you asked and he nodded.

“She said she was, before reminding me she still wasn’t talking to me.”

You repressed a laugh and stole a look at Colin who was talking to Penelope by the corner.

“And Colin?”

“Pen will make him snap out of it,” he said. “Being around her always makes him feel better. Look at him, smiling already.”

You tilted your head, turning to glance at them but before you could comment on it, someone touched your back, making you look behind you.

“Andrew,” you said, turning around to see him better. “This is a good surprise after what, two weeks?”

“I know,” he said, giving you an apologetic smile. “I have been busy. Hello Benedict.”

“Hello Andrew.”

“Busy with a certain artist?”

“Maybe,” he winked at you. “Where is he anyway?”

“He was just on the dance floor,” you said and Andrew looked through the crowd, then nodded.

“Alright, I’ll be back but before I forget,” he said. “Y/N, Josie says you’ve been worried about the letter from your father and I get that but trust me, even if they do come here there’s no—” he stopped talking as your eyes widened, your heart dropping to your stomach. Benedict slowly turned to look at you before turning to Andrew with a frown and Andrew glanced between you, then hissed in a breath.

“And you haven’t had the chance to tell him,” he muttered. “Damn it. Sorry, I thought…”

“Your parents are coming here?” Benedict asked you and you pursed your lips together, then cleared your throat.

“Andrew, do you mind?”

“Yeah I’ll just—” he motioned at the other side of the ballroom. “Go and mess up another couple’s relationship on my way there so that you won’t feel alone. Sure.”

“Great, you do that,” you said and he squeezed at your arm in an assuring manner before walking away from you. You took a deep breath, your heart beating in your throat before you nodded at Benedict.

“Come with me?” you asked and made your way through the crowd with Benedict following you. You both left the ballroom and you climbed the stairs, then turned left and opened the first door which turned out to be one of the guest rooms. Benedict stepped inside after you, then closed the door behind him and put his hands in his pockets after a pause, clearing his throat.

“So?” he said, his voice completely calm. “What is happening?”

You heaved a sigh and ran a hand over your face.

“My uh…my father sent a letter,” you managed to say and Benedict frowned.

“To you?”

“No, to my uncle,” you motioned outside vaguely. “He talks about wanting to host Teddy for the rest of the season, which will not happen by the way, over my dead body,” you added in a haste. “It’s just a trick to ask for more money from my uncle, at least that’s what he says.”

Benedict nodded. “And they’re coming here?”

“It was implied on the letter,” you murmured, biting inside your cheek. “But my uncle thinks they won’t.”

“And you?”

You could feel your whole body stiffening and it was so familiar to you that it made you scoff, then you shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” you said curtly. “Father didn’t send another letter.”

“But why wouldn’t you tell me earlier? When did—” he stopped talking as a look of realization dawned on his face, making you shift your weight.

“That’s what you were going to tell me,” he said slowly. “Earlier.”

You pressed your lips together, fixing your gaze on the wall as you crossed your arms.

“That’s why you…” Benedict let out a breath, nodding his head. “Now it makes sense. You wanted to tell me, and I was at a party.”

That familiar feeling of defenselessness sent a shiver down your spine, making you frown before you cleared your throat.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said almost stoically. “It’s fine.”  

“Y/N, I’m really sorry—”

“No need to be,” you cut him off, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sinking in your stomach as you rubbed at your wrist, his eyes following your movements. “We don’t even need to talk about this really.”

“I think we do.”

“We do not.” You shook your head, your mouth dry all of a sudden. “I’m fine.”

“If they come here—”

“I can handle it,” you interrupted him again and rolled your shoulders back. “It’s fine. I don’t need—I can handle it, even if they do come here. I don’t need anyone’s help, I’m fine.”

That soft light appeared in his eyes and he stepped closer to you to pull you into his arms, heaving a sigh.

“Oh my stubborn girl…” he murmured into your hair, his hand cradling the back of your head as you rested your forehead on his chest. His other arm snaked around your waist and you felt the stiffness of your muscles relax slowly, almost melting into his touch. The music coming from downstairs slowly washed away from your ears as your hearing became muffled and you felt the tears rushing to your eyes, making your whole body tense up again. You took a shaky breath and pulled away from him even if you wanted nothing more than just stay there in his embrace forever, then you ran a hand over your face.

“Are you alright?” his voice was gentle and you nodded.

“Yeah I just don’t—I don’t do that anymore.”

“Do what?”

“That whole crying nonsense,” you rasped out, blinking back the tears as you went to sit down on the bed. A silence fell upon the room before he approached you, and crouched down to look at you while you played with the ring around your finger, your gaze growing distant as you found yourself lost in thought until you heard his voice.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Why not tell me afterwards?”

You shrugged your shoulders, nibbling on your lip.

“We weren’t on best terms,” you muttered. “I could not.”

A gentle smile curled his lips and he entwined his fingers with yours, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb as if trying to assure you.

“No matter what happens between us,” he insisted. “No matter what, I will always protect you. Nothing could change that.”

It felt as if someone was squeezing at your heart inside your chest but you managed to find your voice.

“Benedict, if they do come here…” you trailed off and he shook his head.

“Even if they do, nothing will happen,” he said, his voice determined. “I promised you, remember? No one will touch a hair on your head, ever.”

You dragged your gaze to his as you swallowed thickly, then nodded. For a moment, the only thing you could hear was your own heartbeat, the desire rushing through you. If you leaned in just a little to brush your lips against his, you could—

Your head whipped around as the sound of what was probably a vase falling down to floor and smashing reached inside and you heard Andrew’s laugh and Felix shushing him before someone slammed a door down the hallway. That was enough to snap you out of the haze you were in and you pulled back, blinking a couple of times to focus.

“Can we, um…” you muttered and Benedict seemed to understand what you were going to ask.

“Back home or back to the ball?”

“It’d be rude to Bess if we went home, we must stay,” you said as he stood up but you didn’t let go of his hand and stood up as well. You gave him a small smile, swinging your hands absentmindedly and Benedict raised your hand to press a chaste kiss on it, then shot you that lopsided grin of his.

“Would you spare me another dance, Mrs. Bridgerton?”  

The simple joke made you feel as if that heaviness in your chest was lifted off, letting you breathe again. A giggle escaped from your lips and before you fixed a serious expression on your face, pretending to consider it for a second.

“I suppose I can,” you mused in an airy manner and tugged at his hand to lead him to the door. “You are quite easy on the eye after all.”

Chapter 33

[ariesmusingz]

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ╱ one syllable name masterlist ( below the cut is #181 one syllable first names. they are a mixture of feminine, masculine and neutral names, but please use as you see fit. please like / reblog if you found useful. )

air

anne

art

ash

ayn

banks

bay

bear

beck

bee

bell

ben

bess

birch

bird

blair

blaise

bliss

blue

blythe

bo

bram

branch

bree

britt

brock

brooke

brooks

cal

cale

carl

cash

cat

ceil

chance

charles

chris

clare

clay

cole

cort

cove

crew

cy

dale

dan

dane

dash

dax

day

dean

dove

drew

dune

elle

eve

faith

fay

fern

finn

firth

fox

frank

frost

gael

gage

grant

gray

greer

gus

gwen

hal

hank

hayes

hope

huck

hugh

jack

jade

james

jane

jay

jett

joan

joe

john

joy

jude

june

kai

kate

kay

kent

kerr

king

kit

knox

lake

land

lane

lark

lee

leith

lou

love

lux

luz

mac

mae

max

maeve

mark

maude

max

miles

nash

nate

neil

nell

north

nyx

oak

paige

paul

pax

pearl

penn

pierce

pike

poe

price

psalm

puck

quinn

ralph

ray

reed

reese

rex

rose

roy

ruth

sage

saint

sam

sean

seth

shane

shay

sim

sloane

snow

storm

tai

tate

tay

tess

thad

tom

true

truth

ty

vale

van

vaughn

vern

wade

walt

wes

west

whit

will

win

wolf

wren

wynn

yahn

zack

zane

zeke

zen

[assortedseaglass]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤 & 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕒𝕚𝕝𝕠𝕣 -𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

Tom Bennett x Bess Vaughn

Tom Bennett is rebellious, cocky and listless. On the eve of World War II, Tom senses this may be his chance to leave Manchester behind. The problem? It means leaving practical, quiet and confident Bess Vaughn behind too.

Warnings: World on Fire spoilers, language, era typical sexism and ablism, sexual assault, war and injury detail, smut.

Volume I

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Volume II

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

✍Chapter Twenty Four

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Pomposo

Chapter Fourteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam, Dean/Jo, John/Kate, Adam, Ellen, Garth/Bess (in passing), Cas and Mary (mentioned)

Word Count: 4559

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining. MORE BACKSTORY AHEAD, story takes place currently in Dec 2017, flashback to Jan. 2004 in italics, talk of Sam's past use of hard drugs, hangovers, vomit, car accidents, injuries, character death, guilt, John was not so great a parent or husband, some paraphrasing of last chapter unbeta'd

Special shout out to @thoughtslikeaminefield who helped immensely on sorting out the backstory for this chapter too, way back when I started outlining this thing.

Series Masterlist

Sam settled on some old school soul music to start their road trip and Dean couldn’t even come up with a reason to complain. Aretha sang in the background and they headed east, the world was their oyster and all that. Dean held onto the small bit of smug satisfaction from the interview with Meg as the city disappeared behind them. She really wanted him to crack, but he hadn't and that gave him some hope for going home.

They veered north for a bit and continued on I-40 until they hit Flagstaff. Dean liked the mountains, the air was infinitely better than LA and there was something about spending the holidays where it got cold that made sense. Unfortunately, it was just an overnight stay. How they managed a room in the first hotel they tried, he’d never know. He just shuffled in with his duffel bag and his ball cap over his now sleep-sloppy hair. There was a player-piano in the lobby and Dean had the fleeting thought about how Cas was spending the holidays.

Maybe he’d try and leave him another message, it had been months.

Sam called Madison after dinner and Dean decided to check out the amenities in order to not have to watch Sam get all goopy. Dean hadn’t packed a bathing suit, but a gym’s a gym even if it’s just three treadmills, a stair climber and free weights. So, he jogged for a little bit, watching whatever passed for news. He forgot his earbuds in the room and it really wasn’t worth going back for, he was finding his groove even without music as a buffer to the world around him.

After a solid 5k, Dean stepped down to stretch. Which worked out because a couple in their fifties came in just as he started some curls, leaving the treadmills open for their evening stroll. They talked about their family, the wife explaining what she got each of their grandchildren and where they were supposed to be on which day. Perfectly normal people conversation, but something about it made Dean sad, so he tried to tune them out and focus on his reps.

Part of his life after Cain and Alistair was a loss of gym time. Sure, he could work out at home or even do laps around the neighborhood, but it wasn’t the hours in the ring or at the bag or with a jump rope full-body-punishment that he had worked himself up to. It was also a lot more peaceful, less reactionary. And Dean decided he would find a balance between stagnation and self-destruction. Twenty eighteen was just around the corner afterall.

Dean got back to the room in time to shower and crash. If they wanted to push it, they could make it to their Dad’s place the next day. But neither of them were in a hurry, even in Sam’s fuckboy Charger it was nice to be on the road together. Dean took the first stretch towards Albuquerque, but Sam called it in Santa Fe. He had thought ahead and booked them a hotel instead of chancing it again, which surprised Dean for some reason. Sam had gone and gotten to be responsible while Dean was busy fishing himself out of professional purgatory.

“You talk to Bela?” Sam asked as they waited for their pizza to be delivered. 

“Uh, she texted me that she landed at Heathrow, but not really. Why?” Dean asked after taking a sip of his beer.

“Wasn’t sure if you guys were doing the whole gift exchange thing,” Sam shrugged. “Madison made me wait until after we get back to give her hers.”

Dean chuckled. “I don’t want to know what you’re giving her, alright?”

Sam rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored the innuendo. “Won’t people be asking about what you got her?”

Dean hadn’t really thought about it. “I guess I could ask Trouble for some ideas, see if she thinks it’s necessary we post about it. I don’t know, I was kind of hoping of forgetting about the whole thing until New Year’s at Elizabeth’s, you know?”

Sam leveled Dean with a glare. “You know Dad is gonna ask to meet her.”

Dean set down his beer. “Well it’s a good thing she’s halfway across the world then.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Mom loved that show,” Sam said thoughtfully.

He was right. Dean had completely forgotten about why he’d recognized Bela the first time they’d met at your housewarming party way back when. But, yeah, Mary had watched ‘Red Sky in the Morning’ every Tuesday night after she put them to bed. Once Dean reached junior high, he was able to persuade her to let him stay up and watch too.

“I can’t believe it was on as long as it was, it was fucking awful,” Dean said playfully.

“Yeah, but it was her escape,” Sam added gently.

Dean took a long pull off his beer. “I guess so.”

When Sam went to meet the delivery driver, Dean turned on the television, banking on some sort of Christmas special to take his mind off memory lane. They ate quietly, letting last minute sales commercials drown out their thoughts. Tomorrow they were going home, or as close to it as they had outside of LA. Dean felt lopsided over getting to see Adam, having to navigate his dad, and tiptoeing Kate’s well-meaning but invasive nature.

But that’s family for you, nothing more important than that.

Dean rolled over on the couch, something had woken him up and he was too hungover to let it win. But it didn’t stop, a trilling sound coming from his pants pocket, fuck, it was his phone. He cracked one eye open and checked the caller id.

He closed his eyes and answered. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Dean Winchester?” a harried voice asked, decidedly not Jo.

“Ellen?”

“Yeah, listen— there’s been an accident. Jo and Y/N were T-boned on Hound Drive last night. Can you come to the hospital? I just came home for a change of clothes, but I’m heading back there now.”

Dean sat up, liquor and a headache dulling his reflexes. “Ellen? What are they saying?”

“She’s in the ICU. I— we need you there.”

 Terror flooded Dean’s system, churning with a relentless guilt. Jo wouldn’t have been out so late if it wasn’t to see him. He swallowed. “Uh, of course. Do you want me to drive you? I can be there in ten minutes.”

“I’ll pick you up. I’ve got my truck, the roads are still a mess.”

“Right, okay, I’m at Dad and Kate’s— do you–”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Ellen? Be careful.”

“Don’t you start young man.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Ellen hung up.

Dean stumbled into the bathroom and threw up. He didn’t have time for a shower. Instead he grabbed his shaving kit and threw on a fresh layer of deodorant and brushed his teeth. He pounded three Advil with the water from one of those flowery Dixie cups Kate kept in a plastic dispenser on the counter. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, he knew how bad he must look. He stomped back into the living room and swapped his sweaty flannel for one that smelled neutral from his duffel. Adam showed up as Dean was shoving his boots on.

“Dean? Can I put on cartoons?”

He didn’t jump, Dean didn’t get scared of six-year-olds in footie pajamas. He was just on edge, was all.

“Knock yourself out,” Dean said.

“Where are you going?” Adam asked, stealing the afghan Dean had left on the floor.

“Uh, friend of mine had an accident, so I’m heading to the hospital. Can you tell Dad? I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“You can tell me yourself,” John’s voice pressed in behind Dean as he came in from the kitchen, mug of coffee in hand.

“Dad—,” Dean looked at his father, a man who had been on the road cheating on his mother for years. The same mother who died in a fire because John couldn’t bother to make sure to keep the electrical in their shitty double wide up to code. “It’s Jo. Ellen’s gonna take me to the hospital. Dad, I—”

John’s entire stance changed. “Go. Call when you know something. I’ll send Sammy when he’s up, he’ll know what to do.”

They both knew Sam couldn’t stop whatever was happening, but he’d keep Dean from causing a scene.

A car honked in the driveway.

“I gotta go. Thanks,” Dean brushed past his dad without even a glance at Adam.

Dean wouldn’t let Ellen drive, even hungover he trusted himself behind the wheel more than a desperate mother. She only pretended to argue before sliding across the bench seat and letting him in. The roads were a mess. In the thirty minute drive to the hospital, Dean saw another two cars in the ditch. Though, it was clear now in the morning sunshine, everything was blinding in its whiteness.

“Listen, you shut up and keep your head down. Let me do the talking,” Ellen warned him as they approached the reception desk.

“Hi, I’m Ellen Harvelle, I’m here to see my daughter Joanna? This is her fiance.”

Dean squirmed, but nodded at the nurse who looked at him like she wanted to reach over and hug him. “Of course, right this way.”

She led Dean and Ellen down a hushed hallway, the beeping of machines and huffing of ventilators the only sounds escaping the doorways as they passed. Dean looked around for a trash can, the painkillers in his stomach threatening to come back up. Ellen took his hand and pulled him into a room. 

Jo was hooked up to more machines than should have fit in the tiny room. Her hair was matted with blood and she was drowning in the hospital gown. Her beautiful face was swollen and red, the bruises still forming where she hit the passenger side window— or maybe that was the dashboard, Dean couldn’t tell she was so misshapen.

“Oh, Jo,” Dean’s voice broke. He stopped himself from saying anything as the nurse talked, but all he wanted to do was sob.

 He didn’t realize he had let go of Ellen’s hand until he was clenching the rail along Jo’s bedside. Ellen stood on the other side of her, carefully brushing the hair out of Jo’s beaten face. Her one arm was framed in a metal fixator, skin angry from where the bone sliced her open from the inside. Her leg was in a brace, but at least that meant those bones were more salvageable.

“What happened?” Dean said eventually, unsure of when the nurse left. He eyed the machines tracking Jo’s heart rate, but he wasn’t sure if the readings were good or bad.

“Someone was driving on the wrong side of the road— couldn’t see the lines and Y/N swerved to miss them, they spun out and the other car didn’t stop. They took her to surgery– her right knee was shattered.”

“Jo took the brunt of it,” Dean stated the obvious, still too terrified to reach out and touch Jo. She was suddenly so very fragile.

Ellen sniffed.

“They are watching for internal bleeding before they’ll operate. Her brain—," Ellen couldn’t finish.

“Hey,” Dean rushed around the bed and pulled Ellen against his chest, finally giving his hands something to do. “They’re doing everything they can.”

“It’s not enough,” Ellen argued.

“I know,” Dean agreed, squeezing her tighter.

Ellen pulled back and wiped her eyes, muttering to herself about going soft. Dean needed to give her a moment, hell, he needed a minute to catch his breath. He told her he was going to find coffee and she told him they had a waiting area down the hall. He nearly ran out of Jo’s room.

He checked his watch, it was just after ten o’clock. And as exhausted and hungover as Dean felt, he was pretty sure Ellen hadn’t slept at all after closing the bar. He wondered if she’d even made it home before getting the call. He found the coffee maker and pushed a button for something hot and thin and caffeinated. He wondered if Y/N had passed a breathalyzer, knowing how much Jo had been drinking didn’t make him certain her driver was much better off.

He was gonna be sick again.

He left the paper cup on the grate and fell into one of the stiff plastic chairs around the small table. He put his head between his knees and breathed, resting on his elbows. Dean counted the flecks in the white linoleum squares beneath his feet.

Nothing made sense. They were just getting started. Last night there was the impossible giddiness of seeing her in person after so long and now the unabashed horror of her mother sneaking him into the hospital as her fiance so he could see her before…

She was eighteen-fucking-years-old and he was going to lose her.

And it was all his fault.

He stared at the floor until he couldn’t anymore. The coffee was nothing more than a passing burn on the way to his knotted stomach. But he couldn’t stop the tears and he wouldn’t go back to Ellen until they were dry, she needed him to be better than that. When he couldn’t cry anymore and after he used his last single for a pack of peanut M&Ms, Dean went back to Jo’s room.

Ellen was asleep in an ugly mauve chair with her hand clutching Jo’s good ankle over the thin hospital blanket. Dean found another blanket from a CNA and tucked it around Ellen’s shoulders. He stood guard, through Ellen’s brief nap and the three o’clock shift change, even after Sam came by with lunch but left because he wasn’t allowed on the ward.

The seizures started around five and Ellen and Dean were asked to wait outside. Before six, she was wheeled away from them into emergency surgery and by seven she was gone. Dean had to hold Ellen back from slugging the surgeon. He caught her when she finally sank into reality, and somehow Dean found more tears.

Nothing felt real, least of all Dean himself.

Adam looked Dean in the eye and grinned.

“Get over here you little shit, I told you to stop growing the last time I saw you didn’t I?” Dean hugged his youngest brother hard, thumping him on the back as he rocked from foot to foot. “Good to see you, man.”

“You too,” Adam grunted out before Dean could release him.

Then came John, waiting for Dean as he walked through the front door. They didn’t say anything, just gave each other the once over and went in for the hug. John held him tight until he cleared his throat, stepping away from the vulnerable moment. Sam came in with his bags and hugged Kate first, who had been waiting in the hallway to the kitchen.

“Sammy,” John said, holding out his arms.

“Hey Dad,” Sam hugged with genuine warmth on his face, Dean never thought he’d see the day. But time does things to a person, and forgiveness was always Sam’s superpower.

“You boys hungry? I can reheat dinner, I know you’ve been on the road, wasn’t sure when you’d get in,” Kate offered as Dean went in for the obligatory hug. She had colored her hair, instead of her natural blonde it was a mature auburn, covering the gray and giving her a different air.

“Don’t worry about us, we can scavenge for something later,” Dean assured her. “I like your hair.”

That startled her. “Oh! Thank you, yeah I just figured I’d do something different for winter, you know.”

“Don’t she look good? I told her redheads are feisty,” John teased, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Gross,” Adam called on the way to the basement, where Sam had headed down to watch him finish his game.

“Beer?” John offered and Dean gladly accepted.

Arriving three days early was pushing their luck, Dean knew that, but there was nothing keeping him in LA. And after the novelty of catching up and last minute shopping in the tiny downtown of Mills’ Crossing, there wasn’t much more small talk to be had. 

Naturally, John started it. But it was over Sam that had Dean’s hackles up first. They were sitting down for a late lunch, having gone to church as a family for the first time since Kate and John got married when John made a comment about it was good to see Sam’s forearms ‘healthy’. 

What he meant was he was proud of Sam for kicking his habit, for staying clean. What John didn’t know was that Sam was so good at hiding it, Dean had to check between his toes before he finally got him into rehab the last time. Seven years since Sam had kicked it and John still needed to point it out.

The jam session that night seemed to clear the air. Adam had decided he was a drummer sometime after Dean and Sam’s first platinum album so John built him an entire soundproof room in the basement to go wild. Which meant the Winchester men were a full four piece, if they got to pick their parts. Dean abstained from playing lead because it was John’s house after all, but the old man’s hands weren’t what they used to be. And that gave Dean a little bit of satisfaction.

They rolled through the classics, even playing a couple of Phantom Traveler’s songs that didn’t rely too much on the keys. Dean made John sing though, laughing when he made up his own lyrics.

They ended the night with a drunken, almost punk rendition of Jingle Bell Rock after which Kate shut the lights out on them and told them to go to bed.

Christmas Eve was boring, Dean had gotten stir crazy and kept checking his phone. He knew you had gotten in the night before, but he couldn’t justify trying to hang out while you had such little time with your family as it was. Sam gave him a look and they started playing poker, teasing Adam that he needed to know every version of the game if he was gonna hold his own one day. 

Kate wiped the floor with them all.

They had eggnog and exchanged one round of gifts before going to bed, no expectations of Santa Claus or any set wake up time scheduled. It was just another day. Dean barely slept, anxiety churning inside him. He tried meditating. He even prayed, but God, who was understandably busy that night, didn’t save him. Because he woke up with a bug up his ass and, naturally, his father was the first one to point it out.

“You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?” John asked after Dean cursed at Adam’s obnoxious ringtone.

“Do a lot more with it than that,” Dean muttered before he could stop himself.

“Dean Winchester,” John snapped as if Dean was still sixteen, still living under his roof.

“Oh, come on, kids in college, he’s heard worse,” Dean griped, going back to his coffee.

It all went downhill from there. Naturally, Adam got the lion’s share of gifts. Sam and Dean didn’t need anything, but it was so uneven it looked like John and Kate didn’t even remember they were coming to visit. Meanwhile, John’s plasma screen had arrived two days earlier and Sam and Dean were tasked with installing it in the living room midmorning.

Nothing says family time like manual labor and micromanagement.

Dean started drinking before Kate had taken the ham out of the oven. And while Sam wasn’t exactly keeping track, Dean felt like he was asking for whatever bitchface he got next. He just couldn’t stop himself once he started snarking.

Adam was telling them about the musical composition class he had finished and how he had written something for a string quartet. 

“Our new keyboard player went to Julliard, you should send it to him,” Dean said off the cuff, before shoving some venison sausage in his mouth from the snack trays Kate put out.

“So you upgraded from Cas officially now?” John asked suspiciously.

“Dad, Cas left the band last spring, of course we made it official,” Sam cut in. John already knew this.

“I know, I just hoped you boys would work it out.”

Dean laughed darkly. “Nothing to work out. Dude left, we moved on.”

“And why did he leave exactly?” John goaded Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes, John was one to talk. He had pissed off half of all musicians between the Rockies and New Orleans before he hung it up.

“Let’s call it the Winchester temper and leave it at that,” Dean smiled without teeth, then popped more snacks into his mouth.

“Yeah, cuz the Campbell blood held only saints,” John muttered.

“Dad!” Sam admonished.

“That’s fucking rich! Talking about her when she’s not here to call you on your shit. I fucking punched Cas, alright?! You happy?! And who, DAD, taught me how to do that? Huh? Winchester temper. Not Campbell. That one was all from you.”

John stepped into Dean’s space, but spoke to Sam. “Sam, take your brother outside for a walk to cool down before dinner.”

Sam grunted in confirmation.

“Watch how you talk to me in my own home, Dean. Or I’ll show you a Winchester temper,” John said lowly. “You understand?”

Dean rolled his shoulders and looked his father in the eye. “Who exactly paid for this house again, Dad? Yeah, I’ll talk to you how you deserve it. I’m out of here.”

Dean felt Adam watching from the corner as Kate pulled John out of the kitchen and into their bedroom to give him a piece of her mind. Sam nodded at their younger brother, silently thanking him for holding down the fort as Dean stormed out the front door.

The Roadhouse was blissfully the same, with only a handful of beaten down cars in the parking lot. Dean had spent enough Christmases at bars or taverns throughout his life, but now he just wanted something that felt like home to get through this tightness in his chest. What they found inside was something altogether more special.

Ellen’s entire face lit up as they walked in, an empty plate in front of her and Garth manning the food line. Dean got his hug in first, but Sam took his time asking about what was going on. Then you were there, and Dean felt a hot shame creep up because he was this close to falling into old patterns. And that wasn’t how he ever wanted you to see him. He zipped his lips, pleading with himself to get a handle on his temper already.

He felt you breathe him in, the truth was never hard for you to suss out. And yet Dean held on, needing you close, being stupid and selfish as ever.

They took their free meal and ducked into a corner, watching as Ellen played angel to the downtrodden of Boone county. Slowly, Dean was able to set his shit aside. With Sam talking about anything and everything across from him; he accepted his resentment for his father, his frustration at himself and the stupid fucking feelings he had for you. It all seemed much more manageable when faced with people who had to get over much bigger obstacles with so much less. There was one more thing he promised he’d do while he was home, now that he’d visited Ellen. And he double checked that Sam was still good to go with him, to be his chauffeur.

They helped clean up, though Ellen moved a mile a minute and did tasks faster than she could explain them. And then Ellen was handing you off like a Christmas present, one that Dean couldn’t ever accept. 

Ellen said her goodbyes and left Dean standing in the parking lot without much of a guess on what you wanted to do next.

“I guess we better get going,” he said, asking Sam more than anything.

Then Sam reminded Dean about the cemetery and a new wave of guilt seeped into Dean’s stomach. When it came to Jo, you had first dibs. She was your best friend and Dean’d be damned if he’d visit her without you getting a chance to too. As macabre as it was, he felt he owed it to you.

You looked like you were going to be ill.

“Maybe we should ask her if she wants to go,” he told Sam, searching your eyes for permission at the very least.

You took your time with the idea, but turned him down. “If it’s okay, would you mind dropping me off first? I know it’s in the other direction.”

Dean felt you sinking behind a wall the further they got from the Roadhouse, you asked questions and made conversation, but you weren’t really in it. He probably shouldn’t have brought up Jo, but with Ellen and Christmas and the Roadhouse, she was already everywhere anyway. 

They let you out at your parents’ and headed back across town. The streets were almost empty with the sacredness of the holiday. The cemetery was decorated in pine wreaths and cheap red ribbons. The narrow paths were  silent beneath their feet. Dean had thought he knew what he wanted to say when he decided to take this little side quest to see Jo.

What he said once Sam was safely back inside the Charger was something else entirely.

“So, I’ve been better. Not like I’m bad now, but I’ve been doing actually better. I was a mess for a long time. And not just from you, but a lot of shit. And last year, I guess earlier this year really, I kind of imploded. I started hurting people, like actually hurting them and justified it to myself somehow. Then I pushed Cas away from helping me, after breaking his nose. And well, the bands a lot different now. But we’re still doing it. 

Look, Jo, I know you wanted me to live my dreams and see the world. Things I always wish you could have done. But sometimes dreams are regular everyday things, like bringing home pie or having somebody to say goodnight to. And I haven’t let myself have dreams in a long, long time. But I think maybe I’m starting to again.

And I just need you to know that I’m gonna be okay. And I am gonna do what I can to keep your people safe, because they’re my people now too, you know? You gave me another mom and a best friend without even meaning to. And we all miss you like crazy. But, we’re okay. Merry Christmas, beautiful. I  hope the angels pull out all the stops up there.”

Dean exhaled, his nose thick and eyes stinging in the cold air. He wiped his face and looked at Jo’s name one more time before turning back towards the road. Sam waited until Dean was buckled in before asking, “you good?”

“Yeah, man. Let’s get back before I cause more of a sensation,” Dean said, not meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Okay,” was all Sam said.

Tagging:

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Chapter 15: Rubato

[biggs-regretti]

Mama bear Bess and her son, Chance having a lil snooze!

[aceofnace]

Nancy’s Feelings for Ace

Nancy told Ace that the first time she realized she had feelings for him was during the dreamscape with the wraith, because that was her official “oh” moment, but as a viewer we know she had feelings for him long before that, even if she didn’t know it. The first real signs for us were her obvious jelly feelings as she watched Ace flirt with Amanda in 2x07 and her mind immediately jumping to Ace when she heard the sentence “the one with the pretty eyes” in 2x08. But really, it goes even further back than that.

Nick asking Ace in the last episode if it was ever really only friendship and nothing more between him and Nancy got me thinking back to the very beginning. And to be honest, I don’t think it ever was only friendship. For either one of them.

We know now that Ace had a crush on Nancy in high school. So naturally, when she started working at The Claw, that crush returned right away (even if he also had a crush on Bess at the time). And we know Nancy met Nick and it was lust at first sight and she immediately embarked on a physical relationship with him soon after. This all happened before the show began. What else happened before the show began and it’s one of the first things Nancy tells us about Ace when her narration introduces us to him?

The smoke break.

Upon first viewing, it feels like an unimportant throwaway line. A piece of information that could just as easily have been left out. But it wasn’t. Why? Because I think that smoke break, a moment we’ve never gotten to see, was when Nancy’s feelings for Ace actually started.

Think about it for a second. We know that Nancy has always found Ace attractive. When she hears the term “pretty eyes”, she’s like “Who, Ace?” When she’s under the spell of a lust dress, she lets it slip out that she’s always imagined how soft his hair would be. In as early as episode 1x02, she’s placing a hand on his shoulder for no reason while she talks and she doesn’t let go until she’s done. He may not have necessarily been on her radar in high school like she was on his, but he certainly was as soon as she started working at The Claw.

So, now that we have obvious physical attraction out of the way, that smoke break. We know very little about it. The most of what we do know about it is made up from the minds of countless fans who’ve written their own fan fic version of it (myself included). But the one canon thing about it, the thing Nancy told us herself, was that he didn’t judge her for tanking her grades after her mom died. And how did he even know about that? Because she told him.

Nancy Drew, who at the start of the show was the queen of high emotional walls who didn’t like divulging personal information to anyone, divulged some pretty personal information to this boy she barely knew (and even though it’s never discussed again, there’s a pretty good chance that wasn’t the only smoke break they ever spent together). Meanwhile, she was hooking up with Nick and even sorta calling herself his girlfriend, but any time he tried to get her to open up and talk about anything, she shut him down immediately.

I feel like this is something that should be discussed more. The fact that she was able to so quickly and comfortably share stuff like this with Ace and nobody else is a huge deal. And in the beginning, it’s completely overlooked because Nancy’s love interest was Nick, and then after they broke up, Owen was next in line. For most of season one, she did not outwardly show any significant interest in Ace as anything more than a stranger–turned–co-worker–turned–sleuthing buddy–turned–close friend. But that interest was there.

And why wouldn’t it be? As I already mentioned, Nancy was always physically attracted to Ace. She knew from before the show began that he was a good listener and easy to talk to. And then early on when she learned about his hacking abilities, she saw how smart he was. Soon after that, she learned how loyal and dedicated he was. The boy risked his entire future to break her father out of prison, and he did so without her even asking him to. He willingly drank what could’ve been poison to prove she was right and to keep her from getting arrested. Every time she called, he answered. Every time she needed help or needed a favor, he delivered. How could she not possibly fall for him?

So, she did fall for him. Most likely even in season one. It was evident during the library scene where they were reading Ryan and Lucy’s emails out loud. Hearing Ace say things like “I think I love you too” and “I want to be with you, I don’t care what anyone else says” made her feel something, hence the look the two of them share afterward. But here’s the thing: if Nancy recognized that feeling at all, she would have shoved it down so far and so fast because that feeling was something real. Something more than she was used to feeling. And that scared her.

Nick was a distraction from the grief over her mother’s death. Owen was also a distraction from that grief, as well as from her break-up with Nick. Ace wasn’t a distraction. He was a friend. A confidant. Someone she could rely on. Someone she could count on under any circumstances. This kind of relationship with a guy was one she wasn’t accustomed to. And she knew that it could someday lead to something more serious—something she most definitely wasn’t ready for.

In 2x10, while under the spell of the lust dress, Nancy theorized out loud that perhaps the dress was intensifying feelings of attraction she already had but was repressing, and she said it while turning and looking directly at Ace. Keep in mind that (somehow) 2x10 in the timeline is not that far from where they were in season one, so to assume those repressed feelings started in season one is not that much of a stretch. And looking back, even starting within the first few episodes of the series, you can clearly see she has always been drawn to him in a very subconscious way. She would always stand so close their arms would almost touch. She would lean closely over his shoulder when he was on his laptop, their faces sometimes only mere inches apart. She would practically bump into him while walking side-by-side. She’s always had this unrealized need to be near him. To be close to him. And he’s the only one. I challenge anyone to find scenes that show her casually existing so closely next to Nick, Owen, Gil, Park or even now Tristan. You can’t. Because they don’t exist.

And this makes sense. Canonically, they are soulmates. And that would explain why Ace could simply see her make a volcano erupt in high school and develop feelings for her. It would explain why since day one, Nancy has had a bond with Ace that she’s never had with anyone else. And I know the writers say that Nace wasn’t the plan from the beginning, and I do believe that, but somehow, they inadvertently set it up perfectly for these characters to end up in the situation they’re in right now: desperately in love and desperate to be together. They are each other’s person. And they always have been from the very start.

To go back to what they were before would just be staying the same. They’ve never been just friends. And the sooner Ace can admit that to himself, the sooner they can get back to trying to break that curse and securing their future together.

[reviewdiaries]

Examining that Nancy x Ace scene from 4x01

It’s been far, far, far too long since we’ve had new Nancy Drew, but they still managed to make it worth the wait. Honestly that last scene is absolutely unhinged and I am here for it. But I wanted to take a minute to break it down (because that’s my jam) and make myself feral watching it approximately 8,000 times. Fair warning it gets long, more beneath the cut.

By the time we reach that final scene Ace is absolutely done. My boy has put himself through the wringer, both by thinking he isn’t enough and that’s why Nancy wouldn’t want him, and by then thinking he’s ruined everything by trying to kiss her. This is a guy who has spent just over two months without the support of one of his closest friends (see aforementioned trying to kiss) and thinking he’s ruined his chance with the woman he’s in love with. I think the power of realising Nancy’s been lying to him fuelled his mad run all the way from the Historical Society to Icarus Hall. Because when she opens the door and he’s panting trying to get the words out, sure some of that is down to the depth of the emotion he’s feeling, but a lot of that is the fact that he has forgotten he owns a car and has straight up run to talk to her. 

And this is the most Ace we have seen Ace all episode. Every time we’ve seen him before this he’s been uncertain, unsure, completely knocked off his axis as though he has lost his true north. He’s tried to talk to Nancy, but this is Ace and he knows her, knows something isn’t right, particularly after the Lover’s Vigil when she says it’s her fault and she keeps leaning in and god he can feel it, feel something and then the glass is shattering and she’s gone. Again. Every bit of their interaction at the Vigil is instigated by her, the leaning in, the forehead touch. 

Well, almost all of it. When he first catches her as she spins across the room towards him, there’s a split second where he’s steadying her without really putting his hands on her, unsure how he’ll be received, terrified to ruin it further, of crossing some unseen line. 

And then the sheer need kicks in, the closeness of her after so long, and his hands tighten and pull her in towards him, just for a moment. Just a moment can’t hurt? Particularly when she’s looking at him like she’s drowning and he’s pulling her from the waves. And he can’t even finish his sentence when he glances down and sees the dress she’s wearing and it feels like there’s no one there but them. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel like sitting at home alone, it was after twenty four hours without being able to see her he had to find her.

@livelovecaliforniadreams​ (GIF Credit)

Ace is a smart boy, he can read between the lines, and Nancy has been avoiding him so long precisely because of this, because he knows her and will see the lie in her words - she can’t even make herself believe them, every time she says they can’t she leans in a little more. And this is the tipping point, the dominos start to fall into place as he parses through what she’s saying and what she’s doing. As the jar in her hand shatters and something about the sound of breaking glass hits too close to the memory of glass shattering once before that he’s been playing over and over and over again for weeks. 

@bess-turani-marvin (GIF credit)

If they didn’t almost immediately rush out to deal with the undead he’d have remembered and gone back to that pile of broken glass earlier, but it’s hours after that he finally remembers and suddenly his compass rights itself. He doesn’t have the answers, he doesn’t understand it yet, but he knows then that he’s not wrong, and the certainty burns away that lingering doubt that’s been clouding his mind for too long and fuels that desperate run to Icarus Hall, to her, and to some answers.

He’s direct now, no more stepping around the point and trying not to scuff through lines he doesn’t see. No he trusts his instincts, and more importantly he trusts Nancy, and although everything she’s been saying has been no no no, the word she’s written screams yes, you, it’s you, you’re not in this alone.

You were lying. You do have feelings for me.

Eye contact, that slow walk in, he doesn’t know it all yet but he knows the most important thing, and he knows Nancy isn’t going to talk about it unless he pushes her in just the right way. But this is Ace, and he knows exactly how to get Nancy to talk. Don’t give her room to evade, push through the denials. Crowd into her space until she gives him the truth.

And he hands over that paper (that paper that Nancy folded oh so neatly in one crisp fold when she wrote his name (his name) but now is crumpled from being clenched so tightly in his fist as he ran there) and the sudden absence of that square of truth is enough to make his fingers flex on empty air as he fists his hand again, suddenly bereft of the solid proof he’s held to so tightly. 

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

He knows her handwriting, would know the sharp spike of her a’s and the slant of her e’s anywhere. He watched her protect that jar, try to cover up the pieces of it when she ran to clean up her hand, and now, as soon as she’s faced with the proof she can no longer meet his eye. Looks in his general direction, but evades his own stare knowing she cannot make the lie reach her eyes as she tries to deny it.

She walks away. He was expecting that. Given the amount of denial, of avoidance, of strangeness of the last two months, he didn’t expect her to admit it that quickly. So he follows her, he has time now, now he’s not worried about butting up against some unknown line he paces after her. Deliberate, unhurried, as he bats her feeble excuse away. And when she turns around he can see the defences crumbling, almost as though she wants him to keep pushing, keep asking, to unburden herself of this secret. 

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

She’s not saying anything, and that would normally unnerve him, but the pieces are finally slotting in together and he has a theory, an idea that he wants to test. The words spilling out of him as he finally takes those shattered pieces of glass and holds them up to the light. The barometer, that was weird, a coincidence (not that he believes in those anymore) but the jar as well? Now that’s almost a pattern. That’s something he can work with. You can see the smile just tracing the curve of his lip. 

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

He’s spent too long around Nancy and she’s rubbed off on him, and the tugging of a thread until he can see the whole picture, the tenacious worrying of a point until it makes sense, that’s him, but it’s also her, the two of them so intertwined now they’ve become a whole without ever realising it.

Both times I felt something and I know you felt it too.

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

Nancy opens her mouth to protest as he makes his declaration but closes it again quickly as he states that he knows she felt it too. He steps in - proximity, he’s learning, is the key. And intent, and he has enough intent for the both of them now. He is careful, oh so careful, so aware of her, for any (true) demand that he stop, but the longing in her eyes is a real thing and as he steps in she moves in closer too.

It’s a hypothesis, it’s a test, it’s a god damn it please let him be right and understand this, and wrong and let him finally (finally) kiss her. He knows what’s going to happen (maybe not exactly, but the shape of it) but there’s still that desperate longing hope that maybe this time they’ll kiss, that this time he’ll feel the shape of her lips under his, that this time he’ll be able to sink his hands into her hair and pull her close without her jerking away with that terrified look in her eyes. We’ve not seen them have this moment yet. Every hallucination he kissed her neck, never her lips. In the other timeline this crucial breathless moment of wanting turning into reality was never shown, just the aftermath. This moment, this threshold is something sacred, something special, that’s why it is this moment of near touch, of almost, of finding the shape of the boundary of the curse that the warning springs from.

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

But the torch glass shatters and the groan Ace lets loose, of frustration, of desperation, of want and need and longing is so nearly swallowed down as to be almost inaudible. Because he’s both got what he needed, what he wanted, and exactly the opposite. She is so close, and yet further than ever. And he would wait a hundred years for her, a thousand, but that doesn’t stop the desperate need whenever he’s close enough to touch her.

Nancy hears it though, just as clearly as she hears the glass breaking. For a moment she’s lost in the nearness of him, and she follows his movement back, desperate to remember the feel of his lips on her, lost in the memory of having done this a hundred times already. As she comes back to herself it crashes back in all the thousand reasons why they can’t, and she moves back, finally dragging her eyes to his - she owes him this much. 

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

He is still so close and the sadness is overflowing from her. She’s admitted her feelings to herself, to her dads, and now finally to Ace. Not in so many words, not out loud, but it’s there in the sharp spike of an a and the slant of her e. It’s in the way she leans into him like a flower searching for sunlight whenever they’re close. In the way she can’t take her eyes from him when he’s near. Struck over and over by the disjointed feel of knowing and not knowing. She knows what it feels like to run her hands through his hair, knows that he smiles in his sleep, knows the precise cadence of his stuttering breath as they kiss. And yet she also doesn’t. She is stuck in this isolated limbo and so so tired of the weight of the secret pressing her down into a defeated shell of herself. She can’t focus on anything, the overlay of the knowing and not knowing - that Ace will bring her all the world’s sorbet to make her smile, that he thinks the town loves her and he’s with them, the feel of his blood on her hands as the light vanishes from his eyes.

She’s grieving and not, and alone and not, and it all sounds so silly even now, even after all they’ve been through to say the words out loud to him.

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

Because we’re cursed.

It’s the sort of thing you read about in books, that happens in fairy tales. The prince and princess were cursed and true loves kiss wasn’t enough to break it. It’s enough instead to shatter glass and remind them of their place. Temperance still reminding Nancy that she controls the strings even now in death. 

Ace takes a step away and the loss of his warmth is enough to break her already fragile heart further. But he doesn’t leave, and he doesn’t doubt, and for now, that will have to be enough.

[quill-pen]

SCREW IT:

Ebenezer's gonna know how to play the piano.

I can't pass up the chance to make those beauteous fingers of his tickle the ivories.

Don't like it? Boo-hoo. Blame Longmire.

[lindalofbroome]

lief: so where's barda jasmine: he's looking for the belt of deltora lief: he's wHAT

31 - Essence of Rodda

'Despair is the enemy. Do not let it defeat you.' [Zeean whispered.] DELTORA QUEST 3 The Sister of the South Ch 9 The Yellow Notice

'Norris!' shouted Rowan, shaking him. 'Even if you are right — even if we have been led by some evil force into a trap — we cannot just lie down and die!' ROWAN OF RIN Rowan of the Bukshah Ch 13 The Climb

'So it is not too late, Rye! We still have a chance to stop that future from happening! It is not too late!' [said Sonia] THE THREE DOORS The Third Door Ch 23 Three Doors

And she imagined what her companions on the shore were seeing — a dishevelled girl in a flaring red skirt, surrounded by a throng of fawning ghosts. No wonder Sky and Jewel had fled from her as soon as they were able. She quelled the wave of misery that threatened to engulf her. She had always been haunted by her past. The wraiths were just the visible sign of it. STAR OF DELTORA The Hungry Isle Ch 6 The Glittering Shore

👇👇👇👇

[ben wyatt voice] it's about the perseverance through suffering 👌

👆👆👆👆

there's a bunch of other stuff like double meanings and being epic and found family that i wanted to do but in the end i didn't have time for lol and so i had to chase the serotonin for this last post and make a bad joke out of it to motivate me adfKSDJFH but also so serious

the suffering is not the end; there are horrors AND delights; you lose when you give up; not everything is as it seems but also multiple interpretations can coexist; i know this is so sappy and kids cartoons but it's so real hope is everything and can counter the overwhelmingness of despair; choose to be optimistic, to love, to be happy

you're gonna really feel that in DQ3 because of the high stakes but this is also like the very essence of rowan of rin. he's always being surprised when the big heroic models of courage break down, but they've never had to keep moving forward and doing so scared the way he has. norris was overconfident but he's never had to face something like the cold time and the Mountain, but this is rowan's like hundredth rodeo. this is not to dunk on norris at all but just the way that rowan of rin directly and indirectly shows courage and perseverance

anyway this was supposed to be our beloved trio being a family and looking after each other but it turned into post-mask and then i forgot i cant halfass things to save my life this was supposed to be a crappy shitpost but then i was looking up so much cirque du soleil references trying to figure out what they might wear lol. they might not actually be wearing costumes but the other acrobats with jasmine were so why not put her in one too and then how could bess not resist dressing lief up in her son's clothes etc

so lief's outfit is like a preliminary costume before a more grander and brighter one if he became fully integrated into their circle. i keep searching up baby bird and forgetting that im going to see some gangly pink guys lmao

jasmine's acrobat troupe were described as just blue costumes from what i found. and i was like. UH OH. because i was gonna have to work soooooo hard to differentiate from bede's blue bird vibe. i thought i'd go for a lighter blue than the sorta. royal blue i give him usually. and then it got me thinking sky blue. the perform acrobatics up in the air. they reach for the sky. they up there in the sky. sky costume.

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Comfort in Making a Home

Summary - Part 57 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends), Garth x Bess, Sam x Eileen

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: Wanted to give you guys a bit of a fun one this week. I also tried to make it a bit longer than the past few. 1. In honour of Jensen’s birthday! And 2. Because I’m not sure if I’ll get a chance to write and publish a chapter next week as I’m going to my first-ever SPN convention, SUPER EXCITED, I’m finally gonna meet J2!! But as such, I’m gonna be a little busy, so sorry in advance if I don’t get a chance to upload next week.

Feeling reassured that the threat of other hunters coming after your little girl or the presence of other monsters in town was all an overreaction, you and Dean spend the rest of the week cleaning, furnishing and decorating your new home. You let Destiny choose the colour for her room, a pastel violet. Her room is the quickest and easiest as you just set it up similar to how it was at the bunker. While the process seems like Deja Vu as you move the same furniture you only just bought and set up, it feels more natural and permanent here.

The rest of the house proves to be a more extensive project. Though Dean grumbles about taking measurements, the weight of furniture, and the hassle of shopping, his complaints are laced with a certain satisfaction. You can tell Dean enjoys the change of pace. It’s still hard, tiring work, but it’s free of blood and death and he gets to spend time with you in a place where he knows you’re safe. No demons, no angels, just the ordinary challenges of making a house a home.

Your shared bedroom comes together quite quickly with Dean insisting that you keep your bed, as the memory foam remembers you both. You chuckle at his childish antics but agree nonetheless. Neither of you owns a lot of clothes either, so it’s a simple task for you to arrange them in the walk-in wardrobe while he paints Destiny’s room. Multitasking and working together proves a breeze after years of doing so on hunts.

Destiny plays in her new room, arranging her toys while you and Dean focus on the rest of the house. As you work together to arrange the living room, Dean teases you about the throw pillows and blankets, but there is a lightness in his eyes and tone that speaks volumes. The simple moments of shared laughter and playful banter feel like a luxury compared to the life you’re leaving behind.

“I still think this is too many pillows, but if it makes you happy…”

You roll your eyes, playfully swatting his arm with a pillow. “It's called decorating, Dean. You'll get used to it.”

“I’m sure they’re good for something…” Dean muses as he picks one up and swats your bum with it. You retaliate until you’re both lying on the couch laughing and out of breath.

Dean grins, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, his eyes scan the room with a sense of accomplishment. The house quickly transforms into a home, a safe haven where the threat of other hunters and monsters feels like a distant memory.

As the day turns into night, the glow of a lamp illuminates the living room. Feeling the exhaustion of the day's work, you sigh.

He kisses your head and then says, “Not bad, huh? Maybe suburban life ain't so bad after all.”

You lean into him, the sense of security in his embrace making the sacrifices of the hunting life seem worth it. “Definitely not bad. Not that it’s suburban up here in the mountains…”

Dean rolls his eyes at you and pinches your side softly. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. It's nice to have a place where we can just be... us.”

And in the quiet of your new home, surrounded by the echoes of laughter and the promise of a peaceful future, you know that this change of pace is exactly what your family needs. And as you and Dean sit on the couch in the living room, exhaustion replaced by contentment, you know you've found something rare and precious—a place where you can truly be safe and happy.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Early morning sunlight spills through the curtains of your new bedroom, casting a warm glow over your bed and the hardwood floors. Not used to having windows, the feeling is a little surreal to begin with, almost like waking up in a motel room. Dean yawns as he stretches and pulls you closer to his bare chest.

He kisses your forehead, “Morning, Beautiful.”

You smile as you snuggle into his embrace. “Morning, Handsome. It still doesn’t feel real, you know? Our own place…”

“We haven’t Christened the house yet, you know…And there’s no annoying little brother here to interrupt us!”

“Ah, true…But there is a little girl that could wake up any minute. And she had a bit of a rough night…not sure if you noticed me get up about five times. You, on the other hand, seemed to have the best sleep of your life. So much for man-of-the-house protecting us…I had to go protect her from the tree branches and animals in the woods.”

Dean slips his fingers under the hem of your sleep shirt, dragging them lightly along your stomach to trace the swell of your breasts. He trails kisses over your face towards your neck. “You’re my sexy, strong, badass protector. Let me show my appreciation.”

You playfully groan, “Dean…”

He takes your hand in one of his and guides it over his stiffening dick. “You feel that? I’m getting blue balls with all this waiting and stopping…They’re going to explode and kill me. You’re literally going to be the death of me.”

You let out a light chuckle as you shake your head. “You’re so melodramatic! You and I both know that’s a myth. I promise it won’t kill you. Plus, I heard you jerking it in the shower the other day.”

“Which is no substitute for the real thing, I’ll have you know.”

“I know. I also know I’m hungry and need coffee and we have yet to stock the kitchen here or buy a coffee machine…So, come on, Honey. Stow your blue balls and get up.”

He groans loudly as he flops back down on the bed in defeat. “This is like the chastity vow all over again! All I want to do is make love to my wife, is that really too much to ask?”

You lean over and kiss his lips. “What we need is a proper date night. Leave it with me. We got plenty of friends, I’m sure I can find a babysitter for one night…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The sun is casting a beautiful pink and orange hue over the forest when your family finally returns from another long day shopping, dining out and picking up a few more belongings from the Bunker. Dean, clad in a worn-out plaid shirt and his trademark smirk, takes charge of arranging pots and pans, his culinary expertise evident despite his continued grumbling.

“I can't believe I spent another full day shopping and now am voluntarily ending it in the kitchen. This better be worth it.”

You shake your head and chuckle. Destiny, a bundle of energy despite the long day, eagerly pulls colourful bowls and plates out of the bags, her eyes wide with excitement. The kitchen buzzes with laughter as you and Dean share a glance, appreciating the normalcy of domestic tasks. With her arms overflowing, Destiny waddles into the kitchen as if trying to help. Dean notices her looking lost and rather than chastising her for being in the way or taking the bowls off her, he picks her up so she can reach the overhead cupboards and place the colourful wares inside. 

With all the new purchases in their new home and the kitchen looking more homely, Dean sets about preparing everything he needs to cook up a delicious feast for your first official meal in your new home. He ties on an apron before producing a matching one in a much smaller size. Destiny beams.

Wearing her miniature apron, she stands on a step stool, helping with stirring and mixing the gravy. Dean, despite his initial protests, enjoys the rhythm of chopping vegetables and sizzling pans, surrounded by the warmth of his family. You go about setting the new wooden table on the patio with the colourful plates, cups and cutlery Destiny helped to choose. It looks bright and welcoming, the opposite of everything you’re used to. The one piece of normality is the shotgun Dean leaned up against the corner of the patio, a single line of defence to make him feel more secure in the open space.

Just as Dean’s preparing to bring the food out to you the doorbell rings. Destiny jumps off the stool and pulls off the apron to show off the fancy new dress Dean bought her. It’s long sleeve with flannel designs and a frilly skirt that matches. He thought it was so cute that he couldn’t not buy it. Truly, it surprised you after his earlier whines about the lack of privacy and sex, he really sees Destiny as his little partner in crime during the day and revels in the way she looks up to him (both literally and figuratively).

“Can I get it!” Destiny asks brightly.

Despite being 99% certain of who’s at the door, you insist on going with her just in case. So, while Dean finishes delivering the food to the table you go downstairs with Destiny to get the door.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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