#but nope! turns out he grabbed my journal while i was outside and READ THROUGH THE ENTIRETY OF IT

[feluka]

remind me to never ever write down anything in arabic ever again

[hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis]

Songwriting

Julie and the Phantoms

Pairing: Luke Patterson x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Masterlist

A/N: Here’s my first JATP fic. This is loosely based on the “Edge of Great” ep. This ended up being much longer than I expected, but who’s complaining I guess. Please let me know what you think and if I should write more. I hope you all enjoy!

@im-a-writer-right​ YOUR TURN!!!

Ever since Julie’s mom had passed away you had been hanging around a lot since you knew what it was like to lose a parent. But ever since you found out that Julie had 3 ghost boys in her garage you found yourself hanging out at her house much more often. It was interesting and you really had nothing else better to do. And considering you’re the only other person that can see them without music playing Julie felt more comfortable having you watch over them if she thought they’d get into any trouble.

You had been hanging out in the garage waiting for Julie so you could watch her and the boys practice. You were writing lyrics in your journal when all of a sudden Luke popped in onto the couch next to you. 

“Whatcha writing?” He asks peeking over your shoulder.

“Nothing!” You say slamming your notebook shut.

“Shutting your notebook isn’t nothing. Come on, what is it?” Luke asks turning himself to you.

“Ok, how about. None of your business,” You respond. 

“Y/N when are you gonna tell me what’s in your notebook? You hug that thing like it’ll be the death of you if someone reads it,” Luke chuckles.

“It’s my personal journal when are you gonna get that?” You say and get up to put it in your bag. 

“When you let me see what’s inside?”Luke asks.

“You’re so damn nosy, Luke,” You chuckle as Julie walks in.

“What’s going on here?” Julie asks, clearly thinking something is going on between you and Luke.

“Luke is trying to get me to show him my notebook,” You say showing Julie. 

“Ah, your mu--” Julie starts before you run to cover her mouth.

“Wait she knows?” Luke asks.

“Well yeah. She’s my best friend,” You say with your hand still covering Julie’s mouth. Julie muffles something through your hand but it was incoherent, so you remove your hand.

“Where’s Reggie and Alex? We need to practice,” Julie says. 

“Oh! They were just out doing their own thing. They’ll be here,” Luke says. Just like on queue the two popped in. 

“Hey, guys, ready to rock?” Reggie says.

“Yeh, so we’re playing Edge of Great first. Let’s start on that,” Julie says. You sat and watched as the band practiced for the show Julie’s dad put on. 

“So what do you think?” Julie asked you.

“It was great. You all are gonna do amazing!” You say. After the boys were gone for a break before the show, you wanted to show Julie what you were working on.

“Hey, I was wondering if I could show you a song I was working on,” You say.

“Of course,” She says.

You go over to pick up one of the acoustic guitars and make sure it’s in tune. As soon as you were ready you started playing some chords. “One moment you’re here and the next you’re not. But I know you’re watching over me and you’re still with me,” You sing. You continue until you finish the chords you have set out. 

“I have all the lyrics but I’m still working on the tune. What do you think?” You ask Julie as you finish. 

“It’s great. Is it about your dad?” She asks.

“Yeah, it’s been in the works for months and I just finished the lyrics before Luke so rudely interrupted,” You respond.

“You know...” Julie starts with a look on her face.

“No. No. I know that look on your face. You’re gonna suggest something that I won’t like,” You say.

“Come on. Just hear me out?” She begs.

“Fine,” You say, and cross your arms.

“You should ask Luke to help you finish the tune and open for us at the show,” She suggests.

“Nope. Nope. No,” You quickly say.

“Come on. You write amazing music and have barely shared it in the last few years,” She says.

“You know that’s because a lot of my songs are super personal, especially this one,” You say.

“Ok, well do you have a song you’d be okay singing?” Julie.

“I have one, but I don’t have any tune for it,” You respond. 

“Ok, ask Luke to help. He’s amazing at creating tunes for lyrics,” Julie says.

“No,” You sternly say.

“Why are you so scared to let the boys know you sing and write music?” She asks.

“I don’t know. It’s not something I really like to publicly announce,” You respond.

“You don’t publicly announce it, but you’re one of the best artists in the school music program? Come on what’s the real reason?” Julie questions.

“I guess it’s just because it’s been a long time since I’ve performed solo and my songs have seriously been lacking. Plus there are only a few hours until your show, I’m not sure if I can pull a full song out before then,” You respond.

“Your songs have not been lacking. And if I can bounce back. Then you definitely can. Just ask Luke, I know he’d be more than happy to help and to find out what’s in your notebook. You have the rest of the afternoon. Plus,  I’ve seen you pull songs out 1 hour before you went on stage, you got this,” Julie says. 

“You really think I can pull this?” You ask.

“I know it. And you can find out if there really is anything going on between you two,” Julie smiles and pokes at your stomach.

“Stop. There’s nothing between Luke and me, he’s just a good friend,” You say.

“A friend that my best friend likes. The way you two look at each other and talk to eachother that can’t be nothing,” Julie says.

“So this is why you want Luke to help me?” You ask.

“Ehhhh. Also if you don’t play, I’ll hunt you down and make you,” She says as you two walk out of the garage. 

“Fine. Fine. I’d rather not die at your hand. But there is NOTHING between me and Luke,” You chuckle.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Julie says as you glare at her.

~An hour Later~

You walk into the garage hoping to find Luke or even one of the guys hanging out, but it was completely empty. After looking around for a bit you decided to leave and come back later. But just as you were about to leave you, hear two feet hit the ground.

“Hey, looking for Julie?” Luke says as your turn around.

“Uh, no, actually I was looking for you,” You say looking at your feet. 

“Oh uh, what’s up?” Luke asks.

“I don’t know if this is too much to ask but ummm, Julie was thinking that I could open up for your guys’ show in a few hours and I kinda need help finding a tune to some lyrics I wrote. Julie thought you could help,” You say.

“Wait you sing? Why didn’t you tell us?” Luke asks excitedly.

“Yeh, I don’t usually play outside of school or my room anymore,” You say.

“Well, it’s not much to ask and I’d be glad to help,” He says and sits down next to you on the couch.

“Thanks,” You say and pull out your notebook.

“So that’s your lyric book,” Luke says.

“Yes, and you promise not to peek at any other songs after showing you?” You ask and Luke nods. You flip to the page of the lyrics for the song you’re gonna play. “Here’s the song. I uh wrote this a while back when uhh, I was finally feeling like myself again after my dad passed. It’s called Sunflower,” You say hesitantly.

“I’m sorry,” Luke says as you can feel his eyes trained on you. He clears his throat, “So let’s see what you have,” Luke says and you pass your notebook to him. “This is great,” He says after finishing.

“Thanks, I play the guitar, mostly acoustic,” You say and pick up your guitar. 

Luke reads the first few lines of lyrics trying to figure out a good tune, “From dusk til dawn,” Luke mumbles reading through the first verse. He grabs the guitar from your hands and starts to strum some chords. “So here’s what I think,” Luke says and starts to play chords while singing your lyrics. 

“That’s great and what do you think if I stung this note out a bit,” You say taking back the guitar and playing the chords back while singing. 

“You have an amazing voice,” Luke says as you finish singing.

“Thanks,” You chuckle. The two of you sit for the next few hours creating a tune for your song.

“Ok, so this is what we have. Not like we can change it, the show is in 2 hours,” You say. You start to play the chords and sing. You expected to Luke join in like he normally would but he just sat there watching you sing. “So I guess that’s it,” You say after finishing the song. 

“It’s great! You’ll do amazing, I know it!” Luke smiles at you. You couldn’t help but think about what Julie said earlier, and Luke’s cute smile wasn’t helping. 

“What’s going on here?” Reggie asks. The two of you scoot away from eachother.

“I was just helping Y/N with a song, “ Luke says.

“Y/N sings?” Alex questions.

“Yeh I do, Julie wants me to open for you guys tonight. Luke was j-just helping me put a tune to my lyrics,” You say.

“Can we hear it?!” Alex asks excitedly. 

“I’m gonna leave that for the show,” You say.

“But guys, I promise it’s amazing! Y/N’s amazing,” Luke says as you chuckle. You feel chills move throughout your body at the comment Luke made. 

“Hey, guys! Ready to set up?” Julie asks walking in. She smiles seeing that you had actually asked Luke for help.

“Yeah,” The guys respond. You help Julie set up the equipment before heading inside to get ready for the show. 

“So, how was it with Luke,” Julie asks looking in her closet.

“It was good,” You respond.

“Just good? Come on, I need details girl,” Julie stops her task.

“Ok...fine. Luke is as good as you say in finding tunes. And he was very helpful,” You say.

“Really? I mean like did you feel something? Like a connection?” Julie asks.

“Julie,”

“I’m serious. You didn’t hear from me but I know Luke likes you. He just doesn’t know how to say it,” 

“Wait really?”

“Ah Ha! So you do like him,” 

“Me questioning if he likes me does not prove that I like him,”

“If I know Y/N and I do. I know when she likes someone. And you like Luke. I promise I won’t say anything,”

“Fine will you get off my back if I tell you how I really feel about Luke?”

“Promise,”

“Okay. He’s a great guy. And I can tell he’s really passionate about his music and that he loves playing. He’s also really sweet, cute...and stupidly annoying,” You chuckle.

“If I didn’t know better a certain someone likes Luke,” Julie smiles.

“Yes, your hunches were right,” You smile.

“Hey, you guys ready?” Luke says popping his head through Julie’s door.

“Uhh… yeah. We’ll be down in a bit,” You say.

“Cool. Y/N you’re gonna do amazing. And Julie we’re gonna kill it,” Luke says and leaves.

“I really hope he didn’t hear any of that,” You bury your face in your hands a few seconds after Luke leaves and Julie chuckles. You and Julie finish getting ready and head downstairs where Flynn was waiting. 

“You ready, Julie?” Flynn asks.

“Yes. But there’s a slight change of plans. Y/N is gonna open up for us so you’ll just have to introduce her first,” Julie explains.

“Yesss….I’ve been dying to hear you sing again,” Flynn squeals. The three of you make your way to the garage. You, Julie, and the boys prepare for the show. You find yourself shaking as soon as you hear Flynn speaking over the speakers. 

“Hey. Hey. You got this. Your song is amazing and you’re gonna kill it. If I could give you a big ‘good luck’ hug right now I would, but--” Luke says as his hand passes through yours. 

“It’s ok. Just...some jitters,” You say right before Flynn says your name. You make your way to the front of the garage. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N and I’ll be opening for Julie and the Phantoms,” You say and get ready to sing. You look up to find Luke standing in the front of the crowd and he gives a big smile, “You got this,” He says. 

You start off with the chords Luke played. As you continued to play and sing you felt like you were home again. Like you were meant to play in front of people and share your music. Once you finished, you headed out and let Flynn introduce Julie and the boys. You watched as they played “Edge of Great” and couldn’t be happier to watch them all do what they love most. After the party ended you found yourself staying the night at Julie’s. 

“Hey, can I talk with Y/N alone?” Luke asks as Julie is putting away a few things and the boys are hanging out.  They all nod and start to head out. As Julie leaves, you see her giving you a smirk like she knew what was gonna happen.

“What’s up?” You ask Luke as soon as everyone cleared out. 

“I just wanted to say you did amazing and that you should perform more,” Luke says giving a nervous chuckle after.

“Thanks, you guys did great too. I mean it was your show,” You say. A few moments of awkwardness passed. “Was that all?” You ask.

“N--No. I--I--” He hesitates.

“I know you like me,” You blurt out. After the fact, you realize what you had said. “I didn’t mean to say it like that, Uh,” You say nervously.

“Y/N, you’re an amazing songwriter and an even more amazing person. And yeh, you--you’re right I do like you. And I know we can’t exactly touch each other and I’ve been dead for 25 years, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you,” He says.

“Luke. I don’t really care that you’re a ghost. I feel the exact same way. And yeh it’s a little weird to say I like a ghost, but one day I feel like you’ll really be in front of me and I’ll really get to touch you,” You say.

“I umm wrote this song. It’s actually about you, “ Luke says and picks up his guitar. He starts to play the chords and sing. 

“I love it,” You say after he finishes. You hear a clap from outside the garage doors and you quickly shoot a look and see three heads quickly move down. 

You get off the couch and open the doors, “We’re you guys really eavesdropping?” You ask.

“How did it go?” Julie asks hesitantly.

“Does ‘alone’ really mean nothing to you guys?” You ask.

“If you guys really want you to know...it went great,” Luke says and smiles at you.

“Hey, you guys can’t blame us for wanting two of our friends to get together,” Reggie says putting his hands up in defense.

“You guys are seriously ridiculous,” You say and walk out of the garage.

[peggyrose19]

Day 19: Soulmates

Jeez formatting this was a bitch. Advent for tonight is a little bit different, because the prompt was an accidental double. So, instead of being a sensible human being and just writing a different one-shot off it again, I decided I should get my O’Knutzy soulmate AU done instead, thinking it’d be fairly simple. Oh how wrong I was. Who knew writing an actual plot and developing a relationship was so hard? Me, but I started it anyway so really I did this to myself. So if it’s complete shit, I apologize in advance. Some day I will go back and edit and add to it. Characters by the always amazing @lumosinlove 

Summary: Finn and Logan were soulmates, and had been since the moment they were born. Both had a journal filled with messages to each other, given to everyone once they turned 18. When Leo turned 18, he opened his journal to discover something rather peculiar. What did one do with two soulmates?

Sorry the summary is shit, I suck at them :) Journal entries are in italics and text messages are in bold because tumblr won’t let me underline. Hope you guys enjoy, leave a comment and I’ll love you forever <3

Leo stared down at the paper in front of him. His mind had gone blank when he’d opened the book. His soulmate journal, given to him today, on his 18th birthday. He had imagined this going hundreds of different ways. It had consumed his every waking thought for the past six months at least, what he would say, how his soulmate would respond, the possibility of words waiting for him already. What he hadn’t imagined was the words from two distinct hands written on the pages. 

He thumbed through the book as word after word flashed by. Conversations flowed between these two people, going back nearly three years, according to the dates on each page. The handwritings were different. One was messy, scrawled, and Leo caught a few words of French here and there. The other was neater, script-like, and the ink was dark and consistent.

Unsure what to do, Leo began reading some of the journal. He had never heard of this happening before; he wondered if the other two knew. 

What’re you doing up, it’s nearly 3 am? was the first thing Leo’s eyes fell upon. 

Can’t sleep. What’re you doing up?

Reading. But that’s irrelevant. Go to bed. I’ll be here when you wake up.

Okay fine. Night, Fish.

Night. 

Leo could feel the affection between the two, even just from those simple words. He kept reading, flipping back through conversations that felt too private for him to be reading. His eyes found the words “I love you” written in big stark letters, filling nearly half a page. He slammed the book shut.

What was happening? Why did these two already seem to have a life? Why were they in his soulmate journal?  He pushed back the tears forming in his eyes and slowly opened it again. Words began appearing on the page. 

Finn, you there?

A moment later, answering words appeared, Yeah, what’s up?

Shit day. Then, I miss you.  

Leo wasn’t sure how to feel about all of this. He didn’t know who these people were, why they were in his journal, what to make of the clear connection they had. The best way, he supposed, to resolve this was to see who they were.

Hesitantly, Leo grabbed a pen and set it to a blank page.

Hello? 

Umm… hi? one of them wrote back quickly, the messy one. 

Who are you? the other, Finn, added. 

I’m Leo, he wrote, unsure of what else to say. I just got my soulmate journal, he added. 

There was no answer for a while. Leo had just about given up when words began appearing on the page.

This is our journal. We’ve had it for about four years now. I’m Logan, by the way, he added. 

I’m Finn.

Uh, well it’s nice to meet you both. 

Neither Finn nor Logan were sure what to make of the situation. Finn grabbed his phone, watching Leo’s words spread across the page, telling them about who he was and what he’d discovered when he’d opened his journal for the first time that morning.

Lo, is it even possible he’s also our soulmate? Is that even a thing? He sent the message to Logan, turning back to the journal.

Leo, where are you from? he asked curiously. 

New Orleans, came the response. Born and raised. What about you both?

New York City, Finn responded right before his phone pinged. 

He pulled up Logan’s response. I’m not sure, maybe? I’ve never heard of this happening before but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t. 

Quebec, came Logan’s response in the journal a moment later. Leo answered, but Finn wasn’t paying attention.

He was focused on the message on his screen, mind running through all the soulmate stories and tales he’d heard over the years. He remembered his brother getting his, being ecstatic at the messages he’d received. His friends all getting theirs, writing excitedly to their soulmates from the first moment. Even his parents talked fondly about it, the two of them meeting after a year and already being in love. None of them had two soulmates.

But then, in the back of his mind, a memory surfaced. His grandmother, telling him a story, late one night when he couldn’t sleep, about her best friend from high school. She had had a girlfriend when they went off for college, her soulmate. When they connected some years later there had been a boy too. She had never questioned it. After all, this had been the 60s. People didn’t ask questions like that. 

But maybe it was possible. Maybe this could explain the hole that still seemed to exist between him and Logan, no matter how much they loved each other.

~

As the months passed, Leo slowly made it through the journal. Finn and Logan had both given him permission to read it, although initially he had been surprised. He barely knew these people, why were they trusting him with their deepest secrets? But Finn said that’s what a soulmate journal was for and so Leo spent each night before bed reading a few pages, getting to know his apparent soulmates better and better with each word. 

He learned that Finn was a year older than Logan, 23 now, and his birthday was in August. Logan’s was in December, four days before Christmas. He read page upon page about their siblings, Finn’s older brother and Logan’s three older sisters. He wondered briefly what it was like living with siblings. 

They’d met before, in person, two years ago, Logan flying from Quebec, where he lived, to New York City for New Years. Leo’s heart ached when he read that. He wondered what the city had been like, what it had been like when they met. 

He wished he could meet them. 

He learned the small things about them, too. Logan had a terrible sweet-tooth. He was French-Canadian and could speak it fluently. (Canadian French was very different from New Orleans French). He couldn’t dance to save his life, despite his sisters trying. Finn knew how to figure skate, but had switched to hockey early on. He still kept up with it.The only food he could make without burning was hot chocolate the way his brother showed him. Finn liked to feel useful, to make people feel better. He liked to read. He liked to write letters to Logan while he slept. And Logan would scold him for staying up late, then absolutely melt at the words written on the page.

Leo wanted one of those letters. 

By the time he reached the entry from his birthday, three months had passed. It was quickly becoming summer in New Orleans, despite it being only May. As he got to know his boys better, and they got to know him, Leo wished more and more that he could meet them, see them. He wished he’d known them four years ago when they first met. He wished they’d had that time together. 

He wanted them to fall in love with him.

~

Hey Le! Logan wrote cheerfully late one afternoon. Leo sat outside in the shade of a nearby tree, flipping aimlessly through the journal. He felt conflicted. But the nickname sent flutters through his heart. What’re you up to?

Not much, he replied. Sitting in the garden. What’re you up to?

You have a garden?

Leo chuckled. Yeah. I can see the ocean from here actually.

You can see the ocean?? Jealous. 

Yeah, it’s also 85 degrees.

Nope, I’m out.

That made him laugh again. That’s what I thought.

I just don’t know how you do it! It’s like a million fucking degrees there all the time. I would actually die. 

And it’s always a million fucking degrees below freezing where you live. 

….touché. Leo could sense his reluctance through the paper. He wished desperately to see Logan’s face in that moment, see the pout he undoubtedly was wearing right then. To kiss it away, maybe press him back against his bed…

No. He wouldn’t let himself think of that. Because if he started down that path there was no coming back. And he wasn’t sure he could handle that. 

~

Finn we need to talk 

The text came one day as Finn was getting ready for bed. He paused in brushing his teeth, typing out a response.

FaceTime in 5?

Sounds good

If he was being honest with himself, Finn had expected this a while ago. He had known it was coming, knew it needed to happen. From that first message, Logan laughed at something Leo had written. Finn knew in that moment he was gone. They both were. The only problem now was how to say it.

The ringing of his phone shook him from his thoughts.

“Hey, Lo,” he answered as the call connected. 

“Hey.” 

“What’s up?”

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah, I gathered that from your text.” Logan didn’t laugh, and that’s when Finn knew this was really bothering him.

“Logan, I know what this is about. It’s okay.” Logan’s eyes snapped to his face. 

“What- how?”

“Babe, you’re not exactly subtle. And, well, neither am I. I know it’s about Leo. It’s okay.”

Logan sighed. “I just- I know he’s our soulmate, obviously. But it still feels like I’m betraying you? How can I love both of you? How does that even work?” Finn’s eyes widened at Logan’s words. 

“You love us? Both of us?”

“Harzy, how could I not? You’re my soulmates. But it’s more than that. I love you for you, not just because of some match in the system. And I want us, all of us, to be together.”

Finn was quiet for a long time. Eventually, he said quietly, “That’s why we never made sense. Why there always seemed to be a, a hole. We need Leo to complete us.”

Logan smiled. “Exactly.”

~

Leo, you there? Finn wrote.  

Yeah, came the reply a moment later. 

We have something we want to tell you.

We?

Hi Nut, Logan added hurriedly. Finn smiled at him through the phone screen. He wished he was there in person. He wished both of them were. 

Logan?

Yeah, it’s me. Fish and I talked. About this, us. We want- 

“Don’t take my moment!” Finn scolded playfully. “Besides, no one can read your shitty writing, I would know.” Logan pouted, but let Finn continue. 

Sorry about that. What we were trying to say is that we want you. If you’ll have us. I know all of this is new for you, it is for us too. But we need you. You’re the missing piece of our puzzle, and we don’t work if we don’t have you. 

Leo read the words over and over. Silence buzzed in his ears. It didn’t seem real, that these two boys, who had been each other's for so long, now wanted him. His mind couldn’t make sense of it all, of the love he could feel even through the thin pages of his notebook.

Leo, you there?

I’m here, he managed. I just don’t know what to say. 

Good or bad? Finn asked cautiously. 

Good, he laughed. Of course I want you two, do you know how long I’ve wished for this to happen? 

Oh yeah? Tell us.

“Logan!”

“Sorry.”

Okay, you don’t have to tell us. But please tell me you’ll come see us? I need to see your face. 

Please? Finn added for good measure.

Leo could have jumped up and down in that moment. Of course I will come visit. Of course. Then, a moment later, heart in his throat, he added, I love you guys. 

[nerdypanda3126]

City of Love – Ch. 6

After Juleka teases him about 'his muse,' Luka confesses that he's written music about Marinette, and although she knows what he means when he says it, she has no idea how to respond.

Read on Ao3 

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Luka went out and found Marinette in the same spot he’d left her, although now she had a sketchbook splayed across her lap and her head was bent over it. 

“Hey,” Luka started, settling into place across from her. Her head snapped up and a bright red blush spread across her face. 

“Hi.” 

“Tikki said you wanted me to look at something?” 

She hesitated before she passed her sketchbook over to him. When the pages settled into his hands, he ran a hand over her work, feeling the impressions her pencils had left. She was incredibly talented. She’d recreated his gas tank from a few different angles and redrawn her idea on each one. On top was a prominent bunch of flowers, blue in the center and tipped with white. Behind the flowers, she’d drawn a delicate fishnet lace that he had no idea how she planned to recreate in paint. Here and there, she’d drawn deliberate rips, and on the sides, there were swirls that followed the curves of the tank like she’d said before. 

“What do you think?” she asked hesitantly. 

“I… Marinette, this is…” He ran a hand through his hair in disbelief. “This is… extraordinary.” 

He popped his head back up to look at her and she was biting her lip, anxiously waiting for his appraisal. He lost all train of thought when her lip slipped out from between her teeth and she smiled. He handed the sketchbook back to her, still entirely lost for words. 

On the ground next to her, her timer went off. Must be time for that last coat. She picked up the spray can and started shaking it, but he interrupted her. 

“Do you think I could give it a try?” he asked, although it didn’t sound like his voice or feel like his words. He almost felt like he was outside of himself, watching as she shrugged and handed him the can of paint. 

“It’s your bike,” she said casually. 

The can was in his hand, and she hesitated before she untied the bandana from around her neck and offered it to him as well. His fingers trembled as he accepted it, although he hoped his face was doing something a little more normal. He cleared his throat and prayed that the next words out of his mouth were something clever. 

“Um, yeah, so if I screw up, it’s no big deal, right?” 

Nope, that wasn’t anywhere near clever. But she hid a giggle behind her hand and blushed before she shrugged to agree with him. He brought the bandana up around his face to hide what was probably a lovestruck, dopey grin. 

He tried to take a deep, calming breath, which was when he realized that calming down at that current moment was impossible. The bandana smelled like whatever perfume she was wearing. Something light and floral with a citrusy background. Every breath he took in just intoxicated him more. He was getting lightheaded and he wasn’t even painting yet. 

He glanced up and she was watching him curiously. Probably wondering why he hadn’t started. He gave the can a couple more shakes, then aimed it at the gas tank and prayed for steady hands. 

When he’d finished, he handed the bandana back to her first, then the can of primer. The original dark blue paint that was underneath looked like it was frosted over. Marinette set her timer again. And again it was just the two of them. And again he could think of nothing to say to this amazing woman, only this time it was exacerbated by having her scent still lingering on and around him. He cleared his throat again, but no words came out. 

This was going to be a long few hours. 

***

Marinette had no clue what happened between when Luka went inside and when he came back out, but suddenly he was completely tongue-tied. He could barely look at her without raking his hair over his ears and he was smiling like he didn’t know how to stop. They took turns adding the base coat, and she had a shiny black surface to work on by the time they were done, but both times she’d handed him her bandana, he’d looked at her like she was handing him some priceless artifact. 

She bent her head to her work with Tikki’s lecture ringing in her ears. He didn’t seem to mind her lack of conversation. At one point he must’ve ducked back inside to grab his guitar again because she vaguely registered the music. 

Tikki hadn’t been a fan of her idea to do nothing about her attraction to Luka. She’d urged Marinette to go after him, to tell him how she felt, to make some sort of move, and when Marinette had steadily refused, Tikki had actually raised her voice to tell Marinette she thought she was being stubborn and that Luka deserved to know. 

Maybe Tikki was right. She should probably at least tell him that she liked him, or ask to see him again in a more official setting. Not trying at all felt so counterintuitive. But she really wanted to know what this was between them. To do the smart thing for once and wait before throwing herself into the deep end of a new relationship. So instead of thinking about his kind smile or his soft eyes or his slender fingers, she focused on steadying her hands to paint the delicate lines of the lace and the outlines of the flowers. 

“Do you mind if I take a look?” he asked after a while, breaking her out of her concentration. 

She took a breath and pulled her brush away carefully before blinking out of her trance and looking up at him. He’d set his guitar aside again and had a notebook lying open beside him with a pen, his headphones, and his phone strewn out on top of it to keep his place. He’d been writing, then? She hadn’t even noticed. She nodded before she stood and stretched, surprised at how much light had disappeared while she’d been working and how stiff she felt from sitting hunched over her painting. 

She took a few steps away to shake her legs out and he moved to look at what she’d been working on. She’d started in on the white of the flowers, and his fingers hovered over her work, following her lines as if he could feel them in the air. 

“It’s beautiful,” he said simply, but when he met her eyes again, she knew he meant it. 

“Thank you,” she murmured back, then smiled when she caught sight of his notebook again. “Do you mind if I take a look?” She pointed at it and he followed her direction. 

“Uh… yeah. It’s… I mean, it’s just scribbles and notes, but… yeah, sure.” He swallowed visibly and moved again to grab it before he stood with her and handed it over. 

He hadn’t been kidding about the scribbling. What he hadn’t scratched out in big, black blobs, he’d written in almost illegible scrawls. She could only make out a word here and there, and one he’d circled several different times. 

“Is that the title? Miraculeuse?” she asked, pointing to it. 

“Uh, no, I mean, I’m not really a lyricist, I’m just, you know…” He fiddled out to the side as if he were playing his guitar and let out an embarrassed chuckle. “But... if there were a title, I guess that’d be it.” 

He had a few lines of music notes written down, and she hummed what she could make out. “Is it the same one you showed me earlier?” 

He didn’t answer right away, and she looked up to make sure he was still there. He shook his head when she caught his eye. 

“No, it’s just…” He blinked at her, dumbstruck it seemed, before he took another one of those breaths. Were they calming to him, maybe? After a slow exhale, he looked up at her through his hair. “It’s just something I thought of, watching you paint.” 

She blinked back at him. “You… wrote this about me?” 

He nodded and looked away as he ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know anything about drawing, you know? To me… that’s… what you do… it’s…” Another calming breath. She felt her heart start skipping in her throat as she waited for him to find his words. “You took something that I don’t even think about most of the time, and you made it beautiful. You made it art. It’s nothing short of a miracle, if you ask me.” 

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks before she could stop it. As she handed the notebook back to him, she noticed someone walking straight towards them in the background. 

She was tall and slender, with black hair like Luka’s except she had purple streaks instead of blue that peeked through when the breeze caught it. 

When she reached them, she threw her arm over Luka’s shoulders and hung onto him casually. Luka shoved her off, although there wasn’t any meanness in the gesture. Marinette’s eyes flicked back and forth between them. 

“You must be Juleka,” she said finally, when she’d put the pieces together. 

“And you must be Marinette,” Juleka echoed; her smirk was identical to Luka’s. "I recognize you from the stupid look my brother has on his face." 

She elbowed Luka in the ribs, grinning. He chuckled nervously at Marinette, then shot Juleka a look, rubbing his side.

“Has he played you the song yet? Please tell me you played her the song.” Juleka looped her arm through Luka’s and leaned her chin on his shoulder, blinking up at him with a pleading pout. Marinette hid a giggle behind her hand as Luka rolled his eyes. 

“He hasn’t played it yet,” Marinette answered her, “but what he has so far seems like it’ll be really good.” She pointed to the journal in Luka’s hands and Juleka’s eyes followed her direction before they lit up with menacing glee. 

“Another one? Already? Come on, let me see!” 

She reached for it and Luka tugged it out of her hands. There was a brief battle between them, with Luka holding Juleka back any way he could and keeping the journal away from her and Juleka reaching every which way to get at it. He couldn’t even hold it above his head because she was just as tall as he was. He was winning, though, by a slim margin. 

Finally, Juleka sighed as she relented, but punched him hard on the shoulder in irritation. 

“N’importe-quoi. But you’ll show it to me later, right?” 

"Même pas dans tes rêves." 

Juleka stuck her tongue out at him, then moved towards the door. She smiled back at Marinette as she passed by him. “Good to finally put a face to your muse,” she muttered in Luka’s ear, just barely loud enough for Marinette to catch it.  

Luka reached back and swatted her with the notebook and Juleka cackled as she ducked away and slipped inside. Marinette raised her eyebrows at him as he raked his hair over his ears for what must’ve been the millionth time in the few hours they’d spent together. 

“What was all that about?” 

“Nothing. She just—well, she likes to tease me and she’s had a lot more ammo recently.” 

“She called me your muse,” she said, feeling her blush creep up her cheeks. 

“She got that from Sass. I told you, it’s been a nightmare, living with those two.” 

Rather than press the issue, Marinette sat back down to her work. He hesitated before he sat with her again. As she picked up her brush and lowered her eyes to her painting, he spoke up again. 

“They're not that far off, though, to be honest." 

She glanced up, if only to show him she was listening, and he continued after a pause. 

"I haven't been able to write anything for… I don't know, months I guess, and then you show up. And my head has been so full of music ever since I can't get it down fast enough." 

Her hands were shaking. She took one of his breaths—quick inhale, deep exhale, but it didn’t help her at all. It just made her think of how right before he’d leaned over to kiss her he’d taken a breath just like that. Which only made her realize that he’d been nervous but he’d leaned in anyways. 

She kept her eyes down as she pulled her brush away from her work and swirled it into the blue paint that was up next, blending it with the white she’d been working with so she could create a subtle shade between the white tips of the petals and the deep blue of the center of the flower. 

She should tell him. Shouldn’t she? He’d been more than honest with her. 

“That’s probably a weird thing to say to someone, isn’t it? ‘I hear music when I look at you.’” He chuckled nervously and paused until she glanced up again, and when their eyes caught he continued. “But it’s the truth. You’re the song that’s been playing in my head since the moment we met.”

She probably went some shade of crimson based on how hot her cheeks felt. The bass from the club was back in her chest, but only because her heart was beating so hard it was thudding against her ribcage. 

That sounded like a declaration. Of love. Which made no sense because he’d said he’d never been in love… had he said ‘before’? She couldn’t remember when her eyes were locked on his and he was smiling at her like they were talking about the weather and not that he was inspired by her. That he was in love with her. 

Abruptly, she stood and pretended a need to stretch before she shook her hands out. They were still trembling and she wouldn’t be able to get any work done until they stopped but talking with Luka was having some sort of effect on her flighty nervous system and all she wanted to do was run away from him, but at the same time she wanted to fall into him, but at the same time she wanted to scream and laugh and cry and—

Luka’s hand fell on her shoulder and gave a small squeeze, which simultaneously sent butterflies fluttering through her and also calmed her spiraling thoughts. She didn’t know how he did that. 

“That was forward of me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She shook her head, wanting to tell him he hadn’t, but her tongue was frozen. He was standing so close and his hand on her shoulder was sending a wave of warmth through her. She looked at the gas tank on the ground, so close to being finished, and resolutely pushed her panic away until she had time to think about what it meant. 

Luka seemed to sense the calm that washed over her, because he took his hand off her shoulder, but his eyebrows knitted together as if he were confused at the sudden change. There was a little panicked Marinette still banging her fists against the inside of Marinette’s skull somewhere, and when she was alone with Tikki that panicked Marinette would probably come back full force, but for now, she was focused on the task in front of her. 

“I should get this finished,” she managed to say, and he nodded, already pulling away from her to let her sit back down. 

She finished up just as the sun started setting and he said a quiet thank you before he offered her his hand to shake and a warm smile. Sass paid her, throwing pointed glances at Luka the whole time, and Tikki linked arms with Marinette as they walked away together. Tikki was blowing kisses over her shoulder to Sass, but Marinette kept her eyes on her shoes as her paint kit knocked against her knees. 

It had been a long, confusing day, and she was more than willing to let it end. 

Translations:

Miraculeuse: Miraculous N’importe-quoi: no matter what (whatever) Même pas dans tes rêves: Not even in your dreams (not a chance in hell)

[shirtlesssammy]

6x21: Let It Bleed

Then:

Dean and Cas broke up

Now:

March 15, 1937

Providence, Rhode Island

It was a dark and stormy night, and HP Lovecraft sits at his typewriter clicking away. He finishes his manuscript, and his door slowly creaks open. He pulls out a revolver and heads to the hallway, but quickly backs back into the room and locks the door. A window blasts open and a shadowy figure is there. He pleads with it --but becomes blood cannon fodder anyway. 

Dean continues to dissect what could have gone differently to prevent his breakup with Cas. Sam tries being the logical friend --but there’s no explaining heartbreak, folks. Bobby comes in to tell them that when Cas popped in for his late night tet-a-tet with Dean, he stole a journal. But don’t worry, Bobby had a copy. 

Upon reading it, Bobby discovers a mention of HP Lovecraft. Dean doesn’t know who that is --and you’re going to tell me the dude that knows horror movies like the back of his hand and reads Stephen King doesn’t know who the father of horror is? And I know that Dean lies to cover up things he thinks other people would look down on him for, but this would be a weird moment to do that. 

Anyway, Bobby thinks Lovecraft knew something about purgatory. 

Meanwhile, Ben is chilling in his room reading Cthulhu graphic novels while his mom is watching the sportsball with her new beau. Demons bust in and gut the boyfriend right away. One takes after Ben. Ben gets to his room and calls Dean in a panic. He doesn’t know what’s out there and he can’t get to the shotgun in Lisa’s closet. Dean tells him to jump out his window. It’s too late --Crowley’s there and has both Ben and Lisa. 

Crowley tells Dean that no harm will come to them if he backs off from the purgatory plan. 

Sam throws some salt on Dean’s wound and asks if Cas knows about this. “We gotta assume that he does.” OUCH.

While Bobby heads off to follow the Lovecraft lead, Dean and Sam set to finding Lisa and Ben. They summon Balthazar and tell him that Crowley is alive. He blinks and tells them Cas already informed him. They then tell him about splitting the souls in purgatory plan. Balthazar knew that too, ahem. He refuses to help find Ben and Lisa. 

Sam thinks they should call Cas. “WE’RE NOT CALLING CAS.” This is a man in pain, Sam, he needs time. 

Bobby, meanwhile, interviews someone who possesses a large collection of Lovecraft’s private letters. He asks about March 10, 1937 specifically, and the dude wonders if he’s working with the other guy --”trench coat, looks like Colombo, talks like Rainman.” We’re supposed to assume he’s describing Cas, but ?? okay. They’re competitors actually.

The guy tells Bobby that Lovecraft had a dinner party with other blackmagic followers. They were getting together to perform a ritual to open a door into another dimension. He has --or had-- letters describing the dinner. Bobby leaves, knowing exactly how the letters disappeared. 

Bobby discusses the case with Sam, revealing that one guest of the party -the maid’s son- didn’t die and has been in a mental ward since that night. He’s gong to interview the man now. 

Dean, meanwhile, is lining the demons up and taking them down if they don’t answer his questions. 

For Murderous Rampage Science:

Sam tries to get his brother to take a break, but Dean is 100% on an emotional bender and will not stop. Sam then heads outside to pray to Cas --pleading with him to bring Ben and Lisa home. 

When Cas doesn’t appear, Sam walks away, dejected. Only Cas is there, invisible to Sam. AND I WANT TO TEAR OUT MY EYES. 

Cas confronts Crowley. Crowley was “merely exploiting the obvious loophole.” Cas demands he tell him where they are. 

Crowley tells Cas the only way to save Lisa and Ben is for him to find Purgatory. 

For Literal Science:

Cas flaps away when Balthazar summons him. They meet in a wooded area, and Balthazar confronts Cas about his partnership with Crowley. 

Balthazar confirms that Cas would be the vessel to take on the souls from purgatory. He could explode from all that energy. Cas assures him he won’t (weeps). Cas demands Balthazar tell him if he’s with Cas, and Balthazar laughs but agrees. 

Bobby interviews the maid’s son, and discovers Cas was already there. Bobby asks for the story. The man tells what was said at the time, but then asks, “Do you believe in monsters?” He tells Bobby that the door did open that night, and whatever came through took over his mother. Then the others died. Bobby gives his condolences to the man, and he shows Bobby a picture of his mother. Bobby recognizes her.

Dean prepares his Tortures for Demons™ when his foot drags part of the devil’s trap away. The demon immediately gets the drop on Dean, only for Cas to flap in (or turn visible) just in time to save Dean’s bacon. 

Dean’s...ungrateful. Surly, even! Cas apologizes about Lisa and Ben, and he’s hurt when Dean doesn’t believe that he had nothing to do with their abduction. 

“Dean, I do everything that you ask,” Cas pleads. “I always come when you call and I am your friend - still. Despite your lack of faith in me, and now your threats.” Cas is just asking for backup this ONE TIME. (And you know what? Knowing the crap these Winchester boys have pulled, I always felt like Cas made a good point here.) They lob soulful looks at each other. Cas promises to rescue Lisa and Ben if Dean will just PLEASE stand down and let him absorb every single monster soul EVER it’s NOT A BIG DEAL. This is entirely the wrong tactic, and Dean tells Cas to go back to Crowley and he’ll save Lisa and Ben on his own. 

Cas flaps away. Soulfully. 

Bobby arrives at Eleanor-the-Dragon’s door. She’s at a little cabin in the middle of nowhere - one of her safe houses. He confronts her with the old photo and demands to know her agenda. “You know, we’re not all alike,” she retorts. She reacts similarly poorly to Bobby complaining about sleeping with her without knowing she was a monster. BOBBY! WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT RIGHT NOW. She tells him that the world’s lucky that she’s who popped through the portal. The professor is on Team Earth. Bobby begs to know the secret of the portal so that he can protect her from Cas. 

Balthazar flaps in on Sam. He’s joining Team Winchester because he’s terribly concerned about Cas’s life choices. He flies them close to Crowley’s angel-warded lockup, and Dean and Sam swoop in to save Lisa and Ben. 

They split up inside the warehouse - always a sensible plan. Sadly, Sam “Soft Noggin” Winchester gets knocked out IMMEDIATELY. Sam plz. Dean bursts into Lisa and Ben’s prison like a little angry blur of knives and in short order, he’s killed all the demons standing guard. They start to flee, when Lisa holds Ben at knifepoint, her eyes flashing black. 

The demon goes all in on the mental torture, telling Ben that Dean’s his real father (JK!) and that Dean is Lisa’s WORST EVER MISTAKE. While Dean catalogues the internal damage, he and Lisa fight. He sheathes the demon blade and starts an exorcism, and I look directly at the camera. Demon Lisa’s got another trick up her sleeve. While the exorcism progresses, the demon grabs a tool and jabs it into Lisa’s gut. Then, she gives Dean a choice: exorcise her and Lisa bleeds out or let Lisa remain animate (but a demon puppet). Wrenchingly, Dean finishes the exorcism. 

He makes sure Ben’s armed with a salt-round shotgun and then they head out of the factory. Ben shoots his first demon while Dean shouts at him to “pull it together” and I...just…….

Guys.

I’m just going to box these feelings up and stuff them in my Dean Winchester is a Sad Child attic, while humming Cat’s in the Cradle to myself.

They find Sam and head for a hospital, Dean muttering the whole time that she’s FINE Lisa is JUST FINE she is FINE. Cut to the hospital where Lisa is NOT FINE, but also is not dead! Yet! 

Cas flaps in. 

Dean refuses his apology. REFUSES IT. But Cas didn’t come to apologize. Okay, he DID, but he primarily came to heal Lisa miraculously. Dean looks up at him like he completely forgot that Cas can heal. 

For Healing Cas Science:

In Jensen Ackles your face is a menace news, Dean displays grief, joy, relief, anger, betrayal, sad cat memes, and more in like less than five seconds of screen time. He thanks Cas for healing Lisa. “I wish this changed anything.” Regrets lie thickly between them. Dean asks for one more favor. He wants himself erased from Lisa and Ben’s memories for good. 

When Lisa wakes, Ben explains that they were in a car crash. Dean enters, and introduces himself as the guy who hit them. GAH. The shitty things these characters do!!! Excuse me while I hurl knives at the wall for a solid thirty minutes!

“I lost control for a minute,” Dean says, not AT ALL metaphorically about their time together. “And I just want to say that I’m sorry.” He heads out, leaving the Braedens entirely unprotected from future supernatural threats and missing a substantial chunk of their lives. Hope Cas also cleaned up Matt’s body??? And the busted door??? (Side note: does anyone else have weird squid emotions thinking about Cas willfully blanking their memories when his own memories have been tampered with time and time again? I SURE DON’T!)

Dean meets judgmental Sam back at the Impala. Sam, I see your judgment, and I judge thee valid. Dean talks about his emotions in an open and healt----hahaha nope. Dean tells Sam that if he ever mentions the Braedens to him then he’ll break Sam’s nose. He punctuates that with mournful, red-rimmed eyes which definitely deal at least 1.5X damage against Sam’s puppy eyes. They drive off into the sad music. 

Elsewhere, Eleanor Visyak leaves her cabin, only to encounter Cas behind her. Cas flaps her away. CAAAAAAAAS!

You QUOTE Miette??!!

Your chocolate's been in my peanut butter for far too long

What’s with the slow burn?

You’re just a man. I’m better off protecting myself

I’m officially on your team. You bastards

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[trashyswitch]

Roman's Spa Day

Roman has been overworking Thomas lately. So, the main sides decide to give Roman a spa day to relax him. But, THIS spa day has a secret twist mixed in...

I'm on time again! And I'm mostly caught up on my college courses! *Snoopy dances* Look at me go!

Here's Tickletober Day 16: Massage

Roman has been overworking himself ever since Thomas voiced the Throat-Lobster in Phineas & Ferb: Candace Against The Universe. Roman had been making Thomas work his butt off for the audition and the voice recording, and was so proud when Thomas took his improv advice! Even though meeting the voice of Dr. Doofenshmirtz was an amazing experience, Roman had been overwhelming Thomas as of late.

Finally, enough was enough. Patton, Logan and Virgil were all very annoyed, yet very worried about him. So, the sides had a quick meeting to determine how to help the poor creative side simmer down and take a break. By the time the meeting was over, all 3 sides knew exactly what to do: they were going to set up a spa day for him. Only this time, there was going to be a little twist added to it...

Patton offered to be the blind-folder and the usher for Roman. So, that meant he needed to guide the blind Roman along to every single room that was needed for the spa day. Roman was sitting at a desk, writing down something in a bright red journal. At first glance, it didn’t even look like Roman at all! It looked like Logan, if he chose to wear red that day! Patton walked into the room, and frowned upon seeing the state Roman was in. His posture was off, he had bags under his eyes, his hair was a filthy mess, and his desk was covered with props and scripts. Patton sighed and pulled out the blindfold he was gonna use. Nervous he was gonna make Roman angry for doing this, Patton gave himself a Hunger Games good luck salute before taking on the actor.

Patton wrapped the blindfold around his head super quickly and tied it into a knot. “WHAT THE- HEY! INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER- HAHA! HEHEHEHEY!” Roman shouted. Patton had quickly started tickling him to get him kneeling on the ground and double-checked his blindfold knot. “WHOHohoho...Who’s there? Who DARE FIGHT THE GREAT ROMAN?!” Roman shouted, reaching for his sword. But...his sword wasn’t in its usual spot! Not only that, but the entire belt was missing! “Hey! My sword! Give me back my be-”

Patton quickly covered up his mouth with his hand, and curved it so Roman couldn’t bite his hand. “Shhhh...Calm down Ro.” Patton ordered. “It’s just me: Patton.” he told him.

“How do I know it’s you, and not Janus faking it?” Roman asked.

Patton smirked. “Would Janus know that THIS tickle spot exists?” Patton asked as he lightly tickled his chin.

Roman snorted and squealed in surprise, before kitty fighting the fingers in front of him. “Ohokay. Good point.” Roman mentioned, before reaching out for his hand. Patton brought his hand to Roman’s so he could grab it, and lifted him up. “You ready for the time of your life?” Patton asked.

Roman’s giddy smile dropped slightly. “For what? Why did you blindfold me? What’s going on?” Roman asked. Patton only led him through Roman’s door frame and out to the hallway. “And where are you taking me?” Roman asked.

Patton smiled. “To the living room!” Patton replied.

“That’s it?” Roman asked as he pulled the blindfold off. “Why did you blindfold me just fo-” Patton took the blindfold from Roman’s hand and tied it back on. “It’s a surprise.” Patton replied as he tightened the knot on the back.

“Oooh.” Roman reacted. “Is there a pinata?” Roman asked eagerly.

Patton giggled. “Nope.” he replied.

“Oh. A sword fight?” Roman asked.

Patton smiled. “You’ll see…” he replied.

“Oooooh!” Roman reacted, clapping his hands as he was pushed into a tent entrance by Patton. Roman threw his arms up in front of him, and seemed to relax when Patton gave him his arm to hold onto again.

“Here you go.” Patton offered, pulling a chair out and gently sitting the man down. “There.” Patton muttered as he removed Roman’s blindfold.

“Well...I will admit that I never imagined Patton to go for the blindfolding method.” Logan told Roman.

Roman took one look at Logan and bursted out laughing. Logan was dressed as a cross between a wizard and a fortune teller. “Hello Roman. I am going to be your fortune teller.” Logan said calmly, despite being laughed at by his customer. “And despite what you may believe, I have had plenty of practice on multiple other folks. So as long as you stay still, I will be able to read your palm.” Logan explained.

Roman finally managed to stop laughing and calm himself down. “May I have your right hand please?” Logan ordered politely. Roman nodded and gave him his right palm. Logan read the palm carefully and started to focus on the 3 lines on the hand palm. “Hmm...Artistic and adventurous.” Logan told him. Logan smiled as he read the second palm line. “A sensitive soul with an appreciation for literature and fantasy.” Logan explained.

Roman chuckled. “Well, of course you said that. You’ve known me for years.” Roman mentioned, not really believing in the art of palm reading.

Logan continued to read his plan despite the judgements from Roman and read the third line. “Wow! A positive person!” Logan told him. Roman smiled and placed his left hand on his chest.

“Awww! Thank you!” Roman replied.

Logan smiled and looked closer as he slowly drew the line of fate out with his pencil. “A successful life up ahead.” Logan told him.

Roman snorted. “I wish…” Roman reacted.

Logan frowned slightly as he read the palm. He wasn’t believing much of what he was saying. So, he decided to start purposefully poking and drawing out the palm lines to create feeling. “Patient, hard-working and practical, I see…” Logan added, focusing on the Mount of Saturn. “You’re also energetic, creative, and passionate! A good set of traits.” Logan added, drawing circles around the Apollo mount on his hand. Roman started to cover his mouth a little as the need to giggle and smile awkwardly, started to take over. The movements Logan was doing, were starting to tickle him and make him all giggly.

Logan noticed this, and continued his actions. “And...Wow! You have the water hand! Oval palms,” Logan started drawing his finger on the outside of his palm. “And long flexible fingers!” Logan drew down his fingers with his index finger one by one. Roman finally let out an uncontrollable, small giggle.

Logan smirked. “And of course:” Logan lightly grabbed his wrist with his non-dominant hand and started skittering his index and middle finger on the palm of Roman’s hand. “Sensitive palms!” Logan teased as he tickled his palms.

Roman giggled at the teases and rested his forehead on his arm as he giggled and snorted. Sensitive? More like a giggle spot. “Ohohokahay. Thahahank yohohou Lohohogan.” Roman attempted to tug his hand back. But of course, Logan had Roman’s ticklish palm right in his own and was taking advantage of the cute ticklish spot. “Lohohogahahahan! Lehehet gohohohohoho!” Roman begged through his giggles and snorts. Logan smiled, fluttered his fingers one more time and let go of his wrist. Roman brought his palm against his chest and scratched it to get the ticklish sensations to leave him. “Ehevil. Evil fortune man!” Roman accused, sticking his tongue out.

Logan smirked and stuck his tongue out right back at him.

“Enjoy your appointment.” Logan said with a smile.

“Appointment?!” Roman reacted, before his eyes were blindfolded again. “HEy! What’s up with all the blindfolding?!” Roman asked.

Patton giggled. “It’s to keep you on your ‘toes’, silly!” Patton said with a wink towards Logan. Logan gagged, but sent him the thumbs up back. “Don’t you trust me?” Patton asked.

Roman guffawed. “With how you blindfolded me earlier, not really.” Roman replied. Patton did the puppy eyes at Roman and stuck his bottom lip out in mock sadness. “Awww…Patty is sad now, UwU.” Patton whined in a high-pitched furry voice. Roman giggled and felt around for Patton’s side, before squeezing his side in revenge. Patton squeaked and pushed his shoulder, causing Roman to laugh out loud.

With that, Patton and Roman were off to the next room! Patton led Roman down a few hallways, and into a bedroom ready all ready for him! “We’re here!” Patton greeted as he entered. Patton sat Roman down, turned his chair around a little and removed the blindfold. Roman took a moment to look around and smiled as he realized this was Virgil’s room! Only this time, there was a table with multiple tools and items on it.

“Hi Roman.” Virgil greeted on the other side of the table. Roman giggled and clapped his hands. “Sweet! I’ve been eager for a manicure!” Roman reacted as he placed his hands on the table, separated and ready.

Virgil started off by examining his nails and clipping them into shape. He clipped them in a curved motion, and carefully filed them into the curvy shaped they were gonna be. Virgil aimed for oval-shaped nails for this part, and took a bit of extra time to make sure they were as identical as he could make them. Next, Virgil grabbed two big bowls from underneath the table and put a bit of gentle shampoo into the bottom of the empty bowls. Next, Virgil grabbed a kettle off the heating item and poured the water into both bowls, allowing the soap to bubble up a bit. With one quick temperature test, Virgil placed the bowls into the correct spots and signalled for Roman to insert his nails and his feet into the bowls.

Roman slowly put his hands in, but quickly put the rest of his hands in the water. With his feet, he put them in almost right away. Roman let out a full sigh of relief upon feeling the warm temperature of the water. “Feeling relaxed, Princey?” Virgil asked.

Roman nodded. “Mm hmm…” Roman replied.

When the water time on the fingers were done, Virgil let Roman remove his hands before gently patting them with a towel. While Virgil did this, Patton moved the table away and started working on Roman’s feet. Roman rested his dried hands onto the armrests that were beside him and let Virgil work on his manicure, while Patton removed one foot at a time, placed the exfoliating cream onto his feet and started rubbing and exfoliating his foot.

While the manicure was amazing and very relaxing, the pedicure was a bit...ticklish... -Okay, a lot ticklish. Roman was biting his lip through the whole exfoliating process due to the crystals in the formula tickling and lightly scratching his entire foot wherever Patton’s palms massaged. It tickled a lot, and made him giggle a little despite his attempts to keep it in.

Patton couldn’t help but giggle at this as well. “Ticklish?” Patton asked. Roman bit his lip harder and nodded his head. “Y-Yeah...a bihit.” Roman replied.

Patton finally placed his exfoliated feet back into the water and washed his feet off. Roman finally took the moment to relax while the exfoliating crystals slid off his ankles and disintegrated into the water. Roman’s foot was soon removed and patted down with a towel. After placing it down, Roman’s other foot was removed, patted down with a towel and placed aside. After that, Patton put some cream onto his hands and started massaging his foot. With the feeling of Patton’s massaging palm, Roman started to relax more and more. Patton brought the cream up his ankles as well, and up the lower calf. As Patton started to gently massage the top of Roman’s foot with his fingers, he smirked as he heard slight giggles form Roman again.

Patton looked up at Roman with a starry glint in his eyes, and snuck a couple tickles under his foot. Roman’s foot twitched and he let out a titter. “Pahahat, cahaharefuhuhul!” Roman ordered.

“Awww! The poor prince is too ticklish for massages! It would be rude if I were to…” Patton started skittering his fingers under his toes.

Roman snorted and threw his head back with newfound laughter. “NAHAHAHA! PAHAHAHAT! CAHAHAHAREFUHUHUHUL!” Roman begged. Virgil smiled and nodded for Patton to keep going. Patton’s smirk grew wider as he flattened Roman’s foot and scratched on Roman’s inner arch. “NohoHOHOHOHO! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE! GAAHAHAHAHAHA!” Roman laughed helplessly.

Patton smiled innocently. “Your laugh is so cute, Ro-Ro!” Patton complimented as he moved to the ball of Roman’s foot.

Roman squeaked as his laughter went up about 3 octaves into high-pitched giggles. “Ihihihihi’m toohohoho tihihihicklihihihish thehehehere!” Roman told him.

“Oh, you think this is bad? I haven’t even started massaging the middle of your foot!” Patton reacted.

Suddenly, Patton pushed his flattened thumbs into the middle of Roman’s inner and outer arch.

Roman wheezed and threw his head back as fits of cackles left his throat. Roman took in a big breath and- “OHOHO GAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHEEL! NOHOHO HEEEEEHEHEHEHEEL!” Roman shrieked and laughed himself silly.

Patton giggled and laughed along with him as he enjoyed the sound of Roman’s contagious laughter. Despite the ticklish feeling and wiggly reactions, Virgil was still capable of painting all 10 of Roman’s nails almost perfectly! As Patton slowed his tickling down and gave Roman some time to breath, Virgil let the right nails dry and started putting pretty silver jewels on Roman’s left hand’s nails as decoration.

Patton’s ticklish endeavor soon returned to actual foot grooming. To finish it all off, Patton put some clear polish onto his nails and put tiny little glitter dots onto Roman’s toes to replicate the design Virgil created on Roman’s fingernails. When those were done, Patton gently started clearing the polish and bowls off the table while Virgil put his own polish, cream and tweezers away. As Roman gained his breath back, he looked at Virgil and Patton’s handiwork:

Virgil had given him oval, bright red nails with silver sticky gems curving the side of his nails! It was so pretty!

And Patton had gotten a bit more natural, and simply did more of a massage then a pedicure. He had put finishing polish on his toenails, and placed sparkly dots on the side of his nails, similarly to his fingernails!

“Wow! I am impressed, you two! Thank you!” Roman reacted happily.

“No problem.” Virgil replied.

“You’re welcome, Ro!” Patton replied happily. “And now, one more thing!” Patton declared. Roman beamed in excitement and got up off the chair.

Surprisingly, Patton didn’t put a blindfold on him this time! He just grabbed Roman’s soft wrist and led him to his own room. Patton’s room had a massage bed in it, with blankets, creams and heating pads. “Okay. I’d like you to take your shirt off, show off those abs of yours!” Patton said, pausing to poke one of Roman’s abs. Roman doubled over and giggled in surprise before he removed his shirt. “Now please lay down, and relax.” Patton told him politely as he started up some piano music from a radio. Roman laid down on the massage bed like he was told and let out a big breath of relief, while Patton got started almost right away:

Patton started off with some simple back rubs to loosen him up and keep him relaxed. Patton started rubbing his back muscles somewhat quickly, but softly. He moved up the back, down the back, and out to the sides. He did practically every hand movement possible, right onto Roman’s back. But whether it was actually a back technique or an improvised session from Patton, Roman couldn’t tell you. What he could admit however, was just how nice it felt.

...And then Patton started tapping his fingers lightly on his upper back.

“Hehe...Hehehehehe! Pahahat, thahahat tihihicklehes!” Roman reacted.

He should’ve known this was gonna happen! Considering how often tickling showed up in the entire experience, he should’ve been able to predict Patton’s movements from calming to ticklish. But, here he was: giggling under the fingers of Patton again.

“I call these...the sprinkle fingers. Doesn’t it feel like hundreds and hundreds of sprinkles are falling on your back?” Patton asked as he continued the 4-finger tapping.

Roman’s giggles got more and more frequent the lower Patton went. “Ihihihit feheheels like- TihihickLISH RAHAhahaindrohohohops!” Roman replied.

“Oooooh...that’s a good idea.” Patton replied.

Then, Patton started swaying his hands back and forth across his back. “This movement reminds me of fluffy icing being lathered and smoothed onto the top of a cake.” Patton told him softly as he continued the back and forth hand movements. He was moving both his hands around like a pair of icing spatulas. It felt amazing, and a lot more relaxing than the ‘sprinkle fingers’.

Patton smiled and continued the technique, before moving onto something new: Patton started walking his index and middle finger backwards from the top right side of the back, to the bottom. “I call this...the tiny moonwalk.” Patton told him.

Roman snickered at both the ticklish feeling from his fingers, and at the name of the silly technique. It tickled a lot, and made him shiver and giggle. “Nohohoho mohohoonwahalks plehehehease. Tohoho tihihicklihihish.” Roman ordered. Patton slightly frowned in disappointment, but dropped the negative attitude as he came up with a new technique:

Patton started rubbing and smoothening the top of Roman’s back with his fingers alone. He lifted his fingers off the skin, moved his hands down, lowered his fingers and started massaging again. He repeated this rubbing process all the way down his back, and even continued it up his back. Roman seemed to enjoy the feeling at first. But the piano silence quickly filled with giggles and laughter as the technique reached Roman’s lower back. Roman’s back was the most ticklish part on his body, that not even massouses can continue massaging him without causing some ticklish laughter.

Patton smiled at this adorable fact. “Say...How would you feel about a mini massager?” Patton asked.

Despite being tired, Roman’s eyes widened in horror as his imagination overwhelmed him with how ticklish that would be!

Suddenly, a vibrating sound could be heard, which only worsened his imaginative thoughts! “This mini massager is shaped like a turtle!” Patton reacted before placing the mini massager’s legs onto the small of Roman’s back.

Roman let out a surprised squeal! “aaAAAAHAHAHAHA! PAHAHAHAT NOOOOHOHOHOHO!” Roman begged.

Patton let out an almost evil giggle as he moved the massager around. “Patton YES!” he replied as he moved the massager up and down his lower back.

Roman wiggled around and laughed hysterically at the super ticklish massages! Oh gosh! It was so ticklish! He couldn’t believe just how ticklish a simple battery-charged mini massager could be! It was nuts! Roman laughed and snorted into his arms in ticklish excitement. This was both torturous, yet unbelievably fun! If there’s one thing Patton nailed, it was the inability to get bored during the massage! Who in the world could get bored when your back was being tickled to pieces by a turtle designed mini massager?!

Patton continued this ticklish technique for a good 10 more minutes before turning the massager off and rubbing away the ghost tickles. Patton softly resumed the icing-spreading technique he used earlier, to calm Roman down and let him breath.

The rest of the massage was a mix of feather light tickling, careful rubbing, and even massaging of the back ribs. Roman’s reactions often went from relaxed, to laughing, back to relaxed. There was no in between for Roman! It either tickled, or it felt good! That was the spectrum.

After the entire spa day, Roman could proudly say he feels a lot more at ease and relaxed. He could even say he feels an extra hint of giddy and giggly! Thomas could not believe the difference the sides were capable of creating on Roman. A spa day was exactly what Roman needed to relax and reward himself for the creativity he’s come up with.

[darlingsdevil]

The Setting Sun (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

I sincerely apologize again, I cannot add a read more tab on mobile.

Summary: Your marriage with Arthur isn’t going too smoothly.

F!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, verbally abusive relationship, degrading terminology pertaining to women, violence.

Words: 3.6k

A/N: Sorry for the angst.. I guess? This will be a two part fic.

Slight spoilers

•••

You had heard the whispers around camp as your marriage fell apart. The women slyly mumbled about your fighting, and how they were sure you didn’t sleep in the same bed as him anymore. The men were more open about their observations and their rumors, especially Micah who nearly begged you to take his hand in marriage the second you called it quits with Arthur. Both the men and the women grumbling in the morning when your fighting seeped into the late hours of the night. But it wasn’t either of their talk that drove you mad, it was the disapproving look from Dutch. He looked at you like you had failed his son, which you had.

You were hot headed and Arthur was spiraling down a path of rage. The way he looked at you these days were cold, filled with anger, even when you weren’t fighting. Arthur looked sick at even the sight of you, like you were a monster in his bed. Arthur was met with cold glares and disapproving eyes when not fighting.

It was awful, nearly every night tears fell from your eyes when you decided to cool off by the river while Arthur got to sleep in his tent, scribbling away at that stupid journal. Your face hot, voice scratchy from screaming.

Hosea had asked you once if you would like to leave for a month or two and come back, once the dust had settled between you two, and your marriage could be repaired from the little threads that were still holding it together. You decided if it became that bad, you would, but you wouldn’t let Arthur run you out of your home that easily. Perhaps it had gotten ‘too bad’ too long ago. You had been in the gang nearly just as long as he had been and you grew up together.

Arthur hated fighting with you, he could tell your jabs at each other were pent up emotions from long ago. But when things got firey, and the truth was spewed from eachother, you felt the riff grow larger and larger between you. You didn’t like fighting, neither did he, but something in your blood got hot and your eyes blinded by rage, the moment your husband said anything. He was the same, like everything he said would come out ten times worse than he meant it, like he couldn’t control himself from letting every mean thing he thought of, come from his mouth. Every jab, every screaming match, every fight tore you from him.

You tried your best to remember every good moment with him, how he used to make you feel. How you felt when he would catch you staring or the first time he kissed you, blushing faces and shy glances. But the worst moments with him stuck in your mind even when you weren’t upset with him. It felt like the bad was outweighing the good. Bad memories clouding your mind, covering the good ones.

Arthur left for jobs more frequently, taking the longest ones so he wouldn’t have to see you. Arthur was so sick of fighting, he had to get away.

Apologies were never frequent. He rarely ever slept besides you, that had long since been out of the question. You were like a stranger in his bed, nothing more than a common whore he could use whenever he wanted, nothing like the sweet Arthur who would be so gentle with you, slow touches like he was afraid that you would break.

Your marriage was falling apart, and you were both the culprits. You barely felt anything for him besides anger, your pride refusing to allow yourself to miss him. But deep down, your heart ached every time you let him walk away, let him turn his back on you. Where did it all go wrong?

It started with simple bickering, turned into infrequent fights, and then arguments that left you sobbing and dizzy, his words repeating in your brain, over and over until that’s all you could think about.

One afternoon, when Arthur had been gone for days, you found a letter in Arthur’s trunk. You were looking for an old skirt to make into a blanket, the Heartlands air was unforgiving at night and without Arthur’s body heat next to you, you were frozen.

You noticed how the envelope was already opened, gingerly, not with a letter opener or even torn. You weren’t going to look inside, you weren’t that nosy, but the name on the outside left you pondering.

Mary Linton

Judging by how carefully Arthur had opened the letter, the letter stuck out to you. Something wasn’t right. While Arthur’s absence was not uncommon, you were perplexed by the name. Why did it stand out?

Until it finally hit you, your heart dropped to your stomach. You felt sick. Mary Linton was Mary Gillis, Arthur’s ex fiancé. He had convinced you years ago she was nothing to worry about. You were about to examine the contents when you felt someone behind you.

Arthur snatched the letter from your hands, glaring at you. His eyes shot daggers right through you.

“What the fuck is that, Arthur?” You asked accusingly.

“It’s none of your goddamn business,” Arthur growled in response. He held the letter behind him, guarding it like it was something precious.

“Why did that whore send you a letter?” You couldn’t control the words coming out of your mouth. Anger rose in you at the disrespect.

“Don’t look through my things again,” Arthur turned away, ready to walk off.

“Nope. You don’t get to walk away, tell me what that woman wants from you,” You yelled at him, Arthur swiveled around, his entire face enraged.

“What the hell are accusing me of?”

“I don’t know. What’s it sound like?” You spat back at him, crossing your arms in a defiant stance.

“You’re accusing me of cheating on you?” Arthur scoffed.

“I’m sure you’ve done a hell of a lot worse while you were with me,” You shot back. It was verbal war, and you were both stuck in the crossfire.

“Shut your mouth, woman. You’re walking on thin ice,” Arthur said in a low voice, inching closer to you.

“I might as well dance then. Don’t tell me to shut my fucking mouth, tell that slut to shut her fucking legs.”

Arthur’s nose twitched, he didn’t care about holding back. He would already regret saying something bad.

“You really think I’m banging Mary?”

You were silent, glaring at him. You looked at him like he was the most vile thing on the planet.

“Well then you’re dumber than I expected. Maybe if you had snooped around my stuff before I got back you would have been able to read it,” Arthur held the letter, waving it in front of you.

“I fucking hate you,” Your voice rose, anger building up in you like it was the only thing you could ever feel again.

Arthur nodded, turning away from you, “Like I don’t already know that.”

Hot tears began trailing down your face, as you covered your mouth. You didn’t mean to say that. Your heart beat rushed in your ears. Everything felt awful, Arthur started walking away from you.

“Don’t walk away, you smug bastard!” Your voice cracked, like you were begging him to turn around and tell you everything was alright. You felt your knees almost give out, everything felt dizzy as the blood rushed to your head. Your chest heaved with sobs, your legs giving out as you fell to the ground with a thud.

Arthur continued walking away, he couldn’t handle the shouting, he couldn’t handle the pain. It was suffocating. He held his chin high, as he felt the ground underneath him. Arthur’s emotions were bubbling underneath him, he so desperately wanted to turn around and ask to stop the fighting, the pain, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself.

“I never want to see you ever again!” You shouted as your heart completely shattered into a thousand pieces. You leaned against his trunk, sobs racking through your body, pain erupting through your entire body.

Arthur didn’t turn around, not even to look around at your ruined state at the foot of his bed.

You had to get out of this camp, away from this gang. The members of the camp already began their gossip, a few sneaking glances at you. Their gossip was loud, bouncing off your skull, every rumor suffocating you.

You stood up quickly, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, their judging eyes piercing through you. You rummaged through your things from Arthur’s tent, grabbing only your essential items. You took the blanket off of his bed and made a makeshift sack out of it, tying all your things in it. You took one last look at your family, they might not even be here when you left but that was a chance you were willing to take. You were willing to go it alone for awhile if it meant things would cool down.

You rushed to your mare, you hopped on her and stormed away, through the thicket. You heard someone shout your name but you didn’t look back, leaving behind everything you had ever known.

The sun was beginning to set in the western sky, so you rode towards it, feeling like you were untouchable yet breakable all at the same time. Like a pound of bricks couldn’t hurt you, but a light feather could easily. You were like a bomb, one wrong move and everything could come shattering down.

The cool air was freeing, you only slowed for your horse to breathe, though she adored the run. When you began thinking clearer, it had been too far to turn back. It was completely dark out now, it would be foolish to continue riding.

You found a nice spot on a cliff's edge, hidden by a thicket of trees. It was your home for the night, not perfect but it would do. You unrolled your blanket and set it down on the stone. The cliff overlooked all of the Heartlands it seemed. The sky was a brilliant blue, with speckles of diamonds sewn in, weaved throughout.

Arthur was likely looking at the same sky, you wondered if he was thinking of the same things. You wondered if he was looking for you, waiting for you to come home to him.

You loved Arthur, you did, you loved him since the day you met him. You didn’t want to fight with him, ever.

Maybe you would’ve warned the young girl you once were if you had gotten the chance, but there was no turning back now.

Surprisingly, the night brought you peace, a stark contrast to the heat that burned you during the day.

You wondered if this was the final straw with Arthur, if you had fucked things up too badly. Mary Linton was no rival, you knew Arthur would never do such a thing. It hurt to remember what you said to him, to the man you loved so dearly. Vicious words cutting so deep, that you were even surprised they had come from your mouth.

You were both to blame. Your hearts no longer beating in sync, a riff in between you. A stranger in your own bed.

“I never want to see you ever again!”

The last thing you said to him. You hadn’t even meant it. You wondered if the universe would play some cruel trick on you for saying such an awful thing.

Sleep came rather peacefully, drifting away while you thought of everything you should have done differently.

The night sky twinkled, Arthur stared at it from the edge of his bed. Regretting his actions during the day, he couldn’t sleep. If only he had just told you that Mary needed his help, instead of hiding it. No one knew where you went and he was worried sick. Arthur wondered if this was it, after all the verbal cyanide, the brutal end to a sad story.

He hoped it wasn’t.

•••

Three weeks passed, since you had taken a break from the gang. A well needed break, that was for sure. You no longer hated the thought of Arthur, instead you missed him, wondering how you could be so blind. You craved Arthur’s touch, for him to hold you, for the first time in what felt like years.

When you would return, you would apologize for everything that you had done, you would make it up to him. Everything would go back to normal.

No one bothered you as you lived off the land, you had been to Valentine only once. You prayed no one would be in town while you were there, luckily no one was. You had even gone as far as to scope out Horeshoe Overlook, it was still thriving, you could see almost everyone through your binoculars. You even caught a glimpse of Arthur, he tried to hide his distress but you could tell something was troubling him. Arthur was talking with Dutch, Dutch looking nearly as distressed as him. After a few moments, you decided to leave before anyone came snooping around.

That was a week ago, you were going to return to camp in a day. Uneasiness grew on you throughout the night, you wondered if Arthur would ever take you back.

At night, you watched the sky again, it was clear again, not a cloud in all of it’s endlessness. You ate your supper for the last time in your small home, it had become rather nice. You bought a tent from Valentine and even found some books to go along with it.

Your expedition into the wilderness left you with a lot of time to think, but tonight your mind wouldn’t muster a single thought. Like all your thoughts had suddenly vanished.

Sleep didn’t come quite as easily, your body not allowing yourself to drift into the realm of sleep. Though your body felt heavy with worry, you felt nearly weightlessness, like you were drifting on a cloud, above everything.

As you stared into the black sky, you heard a snap behind you. You immediately reached for your gun, on high alert. Your fingers trailing over the trigger. Anyone who dared mess with you would get a face full of lead.

Another crunch. This was no animal, animals were not that quiet.

“Who’s there?” You called out, your voice rising above the trees.

A third snap, you turned immediately to where you heard it, aiming your gun towards the thicket.

A man with a wolfish grin stepped out, looking at you like you were a piece of meat.

“What’s a little lady like yourself doing out here all alone?” The man inched closer to you, taking slow steps. The shadows casted on the man, making him look unnatural, almost like a monster.

“Another step and I’ll blow your fucking head off,” You barked, aiming your gun at his head.

A second man stepped out from behind you, you swiveled around to face him, the first man pulled out his own gun and aimed it at the back of your head, you felt the cool metal on your head. You narrowed your eyes at the second man, your veins growing hot.

You thought for a moment, weighing your options.

Almost instantly, you elbowed the man behind you, knocking his gun out of his hand, before the second man could react, you shot him in the face, he fell to the ground in a gorey mess.

“Oh, you little bitch!” The first man shouted, delirious and enraged. He tackled you, right as you were turning to face him. The man pinned you to the forest floor, your mind was being taken over by the survival instinct. He punched you directly in the face, the force of it making you see stars, you kicked out your legs, staggering him for a moment so you could throw a punch, right in the nose, his nose cracked underneath your knuckles. The man fell off of you, his nose spewing blood, the bone in a crooked shape.

He cradled his nose with one hand, the other scrambling for his gun that had been knocked out of his hand. Your mind was fuzzy, you got up as quickly as you could, your face aching.

The man reached for his gun, you aimed your own, on the ground he aimed at you and fired. You fired your own gun, both bullets seemingly moving in slow motion as they passed each other. The gunshot was loud, nearly deafening. The man was dead, the bullet went straight through his head.

You almost didn’t feel the bullet until seconds later. Pain erupted in your abdomen, you felt the slick blood pool out of you, darkening your blouse.

The bullet tore through your flesh with every step you took, you rushed to your horse, wincing. Blood got all over her silky coat, like an abstract painting. You set off back to camp, through the forest and deserts of the Heartlands.

Pain continued to develop in your stomach, your mind started going fuzzy. The air whipped around you, as you rode hard back to camp. Every jolt shot pain in your stomach. The only thing you could think about was reaching camp, being home finally.

Black spots began clouding your vision, the terrain slowly becoming more and more familiar. You felt weak, like all your limbs were ten times heavier. Blood continued to pool out of you, a slow, but steady stream.

You leaned against your mare’s head, your own head too heavy to keep up. She was a pretty horse, strong and loyal.

Why had you been so foolish to leave camp? Why had you been so foolish to be horrible to Arthur? Where did it all go wrong?

You regretted a thousand things it seemed. A thousand things you would never get to see, it seemed. Repairing your marriage with Arthur, owning a small farm with him when things cooled down, having a little girl and a little boy that looked just like him, growing old with Arthur, simple things. You would miss it all.

You could barely see now, your mind slowly going blank. Your limbs no longer feeling attached to your body. You could just barely make out Horseshoe Overlook in front of you, the lights dim and shapeless.

This was death, it seemed so distant and so close all at the same time. Peaceful and painful. You let your eyes close for the final time, just as you reached the outskirts of the camp.

You slowly slipped off your horse, into the grassy ground.

This was death. You had gotten your wish.

•••

Arthur heard a scream from the other side of camp, immediately shooting up from his bed. It sounded like one of the women. The other men came rushing to that side of camp, Arthur grabbing his own gun and dragging himself out of bed.

A large group gathered by something on the ground, it was silent, no one saying anything. The entire group turned to Arthur, splitting to make a path for him.

You were on the ground, bloody, and lifeless. Arthur’s eyes widened as he kneeled next to you. He could barely believe what he was seeing.

“No, no, no, no. Wake up, come on darlin’, wake up,” Arthur shook his head, grabbing your limp hand. At first, he was sure you would wake up.

“God damnit, wake up,” Arthur said louder, shaking you. Anger, grief and disbelief in his voice.

“She’s not waking up, Arthur,” Susan said from behind him, her voice breaking. He heard sobs from behind him, someone put a hand on his shoulder.

It was silent, everyone holding their breath. They watched him with intent, making sure he would not crack. The crickets chirped in the distant, the air from his lungs being sucked out.

Everything cruel he had ever said to you, everytime he had ever convinced himself he hated you, flooded his mind. Everything he did wrong, everything that went wrong.

Arthur brushed the hair from your face, holding back his tears. The crowd dispersed from behind him, leaving him alone with you. He covered his mouth to stop the sobs that would escape his mouth otherwise.

The anger and sadness that ripped through him, a sudden pit in his stomach that would never go away from now until he died. His entire world had been knocked out of place, thrown off track.

His chest heaved with pain. He was never able to make it right with you, and that would live with him forever. Knowing you died thinking he hated you, it was unbearable.

“You weren’t supposed to go like this,” Arthur whispered to you, he lightly held your face like you were fragile.

Arthur slowly picked you up, holding your cold body in his strong arms.

“We were supposed to make up, get out of this life, have a few kids, run a little farm,” Arthur poured his heart out to you, carrying you to the outskirts of camp. The patrons of camp bowed their heads as he passed them, a silent goodbye.

“I’m so sorry,” Arthur said to you, clutching you close to him, his hands shaking. Blood getting all over his clothes, staining them, even when the blood went away he still could smell the stench of blood on them. A forever mark on his soul.

Arthur buried you that night, on a little hill surrounded with flowers, overlooking the setting sun. A part of him died with you. He would remember the last words you had ever said to him, and how he had simply walked away.

Arthur never forgave himself.

•••

[frost-flame]

Stan’s Ford plushie

A fic based on my post. This is also a practice to write more Stancest in the future. (It’s more of plot though)

His brother is such an ungrateful bastard! Why did he expect a "Thank you" from his brother? Right, he was hopeful. He should've learn to stop being so hopeful. Life in the streets taught him that. He'd gone soft.

He sighed sadly as he removed his fez and sat on his bed. He put the fez and his glasses on the nightstand and lied down the bed, staring at the ceiling with nothing in his mind. But sleep still hadn't come to him. He had gotten used to working on the portal every night. For 30 years that's what he did. Now... He feels incomplete without that on his routine.

All he wanted was a "Thank you" (and maybe even a hug) from his brother. Their reunion was completely different than what he thought it would be and yet... That was actually one of the possibilities he thought of. Ford punching him on the face. He remained positive and hoped that maybe one good thing would come to his life. He should've known no good things happen to him, except the kids. Them coming here is the best thing that happened to him.

Stan chuckled. He may not get the love he wanted from his brother. But he has the kids now. They love him. They made it obvious to him every day. With that thought, he fell asleep.

~~~~~

Next morning Mabel can't help but feel a bit down after remembering what happened yesterday. Her grunkle Stan seemed so sad. Then again, if she was in Stan's case, she would be too. Getting punched at the face by your twin brother whom you haven't seen for 30 years isn't really a reunion anyone would be expecting.

Mabel had made a decision. She wants to make her grunkle happy, but how? She could make something for him. But would that be enough? No. What would cheer up Stan? Money? Stan already gets that through the mystery shack. A date? Stan didn't seem to show any interest to anyone else in the Falls. Getting a tourist to go on a date may be a solution, but the shack is close. A plush? Now what would Stan need a plush for?

Wait a moment...

Remembering the wax figure that she made before (that unfortunately melted), Stan treated it like a person... Like his brother.

"Like Great Uncle Ford!" Mabel said out loud. "What about Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper asked with interest and a sparkle in his eyes. "Nothing, Dipper. I just want to cheer Grunkle Stan up. He seemed so sad yesterday" said Mabel as she sat cross-legged on her bed and hugged Waddles and played with his little pig arms.

"I know. I never saw how fake his smile was until that moment when he smiled at us before we went to bed" Dipper replied as he put his book on the nightstand. As much as Dipper wanted to ask the author a billion questions about Gravity Falls, the man had just got back last night and is probably adjusting. He needs to give the man a bit of space before asking him what he needed to know.

"What do you mean like Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper asked. "What?" Mabel replied confused. "You said "Like Great Uncle Ford" suddenly. What do you mean by that?" Dipper asked again.

"Oh right! Remember the wax figure that I made of Stan? He treated it like a person. And then we discovered Grunkle Stan has a twin and the wax figure look like him! It all come together Dipper. He treated the wax figure like his brother!" Mabel exclaimed.

"I never thought of that. No wonder why he was so sad when the wax figure "died" said Dipper thoughtfully. "But what's the point in all of this, Mabel?" Dipper asked in interest.

"Well, I want to cheer Grunkle Stan up! You saw how he looked last night. I want to make him happy" said Mabel with a happy smile. "How are we going to do that? Bring him out fishing?" Dipper asked with teasing tone to his voice. "Nope! I'll make a replacement Ford" Mabel exclaimed.

"A what?" Dipper asked, shocked at Mabel's statement. "You know, a substitute. A replacement for the wax figure I made so he could get the love he wants from his brother" replied Mabel with a big grin.

"And what exactly would this "substitute" be? Another wax figure?" Dipper asked.

Mabel hummed in thought and then snapped her fingers as an idea popped into her head.

"A plush! Everyone loves plushies! I think" said Mabel but mumbled the last part. "What about a plush of Great Uncle Ford?" Mabel asked with a big grin.

"That can be a good idea" said Dipper thoughtfully, putting a hand on his chin. "But you need to ask for Great Uncle Ford's permission first" he added. Mabel's smile slowly turned into a frown as that idea came into mind.

"You're right. How am I suppose to ask Great Uncle Ford that?" Mabel asked. "I don't know. That idea was great and all but if The Author didn't approve of a plush toy of him, it will be pointless" Dipper stated rather than reply.

"It's not a question of yes or no. It's a question of when I can ask him" said Mabel confidently. "What made you certain Great Uncle Ford will say yes?" Dipper asked with a raised brow. "That's on me, Dipper" said Mabel.

She jumped from her bed and ran downstairs excitedly. "Wait! Mabel!" Dipper left his bed and grabbed the 2nd Journal to continue reading for later and ran after his twin.

.

Reaching down the stairs, Dipper hurried to the gift shop and saw his sister standing in front of the vending machine with a little reluctance etched on her face. She gave Dipper a grin and was about to reach to type in the code. But then the vending machine opened and out came their great uncle Ford. He seemed surprise to see them as well.

“Kids! What are you doing up so late?” Ford asked surprise. “It’s already morning, great uncle Ford” Mabel replied with a smile while Dipper nodded in awe at seeing their great uncle or the author again.

“It’s morning? I didn’t notice. Is there any breakfast?” Ford asked looking around. Only then did he notice that indeed it is morning, the light outside the shack making it obvious.

“Yes! There are pancakes in the kitchen for you” Dipper replied. Mabel noticed Dipper sweating a little bit. Mabel snickered at that.

So far so good.

They followed Ford onto the kitchen and watched him grabbed a fork, seeming to inspect it for a second and sat at the table. The pancakes were neatly stacked along with maple syrup and butter on top. A note was written Ford on top of it all.

“Do you kids want some?” Ford asked nudging the plate of stacked pancakes towards them. Both twins shook their heads no. Now’s the moment, Mabel thought.

“Great Uncle Ford, do you mind if we make a plush toy version of you?” Mabel asked quickly but shyly. Despite being a relative, the man is still a bit foreign to them (or to her). But she does want to make something for the man. How about finger puppets? He could be the master of finger puppets with his six fingers. She'll do that later.

Ford seemed to enjoy the food he was eating as he looked slightly blissful and happy as he ate the pancake. “Hmm? Oh yes, of course” said the author with a dismissive wave of hand. Mabel cheered and ran off, Dipper following suit.

“By the way, Grunkle Stan made those pancakes! it’s good right, Great Uncle Ford? So much better than the Diner's!” Mabel added happily. Both twins didn’t notice the surprise look of the author and the phantom smile that came after it.

.

Mabel and Dipper walked around town wondering where they can find a tailor to sew a plush toy of Ford and wondering how much it would cost. if it’s too expensive, Mabel would have no choice but to make it herself, whether or not it would look like Great Uncle Ford or not.

"Now where can we find a tailor that sews custom plushies?" Mabel asked to herself. "We should ask someone we know for a trustable source" Dipper commented. Mabel nodded her head in agreement. That would be preferable. If the price for customized plush would be too expensive, Mabel would have to buy all the materials needed and she has to learn how to make one too. But as much as possible she preferred to have it be created by a professional.

"Heya, dudes!" A familiar voice greeted. "Soos!" The twins greeted back in unison. Because of the events last night, the shack is once again in repair, being managed by Stan while his only two staff had the day-off. It seemed the town is also in the same condition.

"Soos, thank goodness you're here" said Mabel in relief. "Soos, you're just the guy we need" Dipper added. "Really? What for?" Soos asked curiously.

"We're looking for a tailor. Someone who is willing to make a customized plush toy of someone" Dipper replied. "We want to make a plush toy version of Great Uncle Ford for Grunkle Stan" Mabel explained. "To make him happy."

"For Mr. Pines, anything. Follow me, dudes. I know a tailor that might do your request" Soos said waving his hand to follow him. Mabel cheered then the twins followed Soos to the location of the tailor.

.

It took a lot of bargaining but since the tailor knew Soos, they were finally able to make the tailor agree with the price. It's a reasonable price but still a bit high. Soos decided to pitch in too. Mabel disagreed but Soos insisted because "It's for Mr. Pines" he said. Fortunately, they'll only pay once the product has been made.

"I'm glad that's over" said Mabel as she happily skipped back to the shack. "Yeah but we're going to wait a week to get it." Dipper complained. "For Grunkle Stan? I'm willing to wait" Mabel said.

Dipper shook his head but with a smile at his sister's determination or stubbornness.

~~~~~

A week passed and what happened yesterday still amuses Mabel. The fact that she went on an "epic magical quest" to save her brother was fun. She'd also been making finger puppets for her great uncle but he doesn't want to do it. Oh well, maybe next time. It seemed she's forgetting something. What could it be? What could it be?

Mabel looked at her surroundings and saw Waddles only lying down on the carpet. Her grunkle Stan is nowhere to be found because he's managing the shack again. Great Uncle Ford is still down at the basement as usual. Maybe that's where Dipper is.

Wait...

Ford... The Ford plush! "Oh that's what I forgot!" Mabel muttered, mentally smacking herself. She ran to the attic, grabbed the money and ran to where the tailor is.

Reaching the tailor, Mabel went inside and the owner of the little shop greeted her not so warmly.

"Took you long enough, kid. I was expecting earlier than this" said the tailor. Grabbing a box and giving it to Mabel. "Go ahead and check it kiddo, I did my best to make it adorable but detailed like those "chibi" things you showed me." The tailor made a circling motion with her wrist while rolling her eyes.

Mabel opened the box and took the plush. The fabric was nice to feel. There are exactly six fingers on each hand. And the plush is so soft. The hair had stuffing too. It seemed the glasses are removable. The jacket isn't though. That's fine.

"This is beautiful" said Mabel in awe. Someday she will make plush toys just as great as this, but nicer towards customers.

"Well, honey, of course it is! I made it!" said the tailor proudly with a smug look.

Mabel took the money from her backpack and paid the tailor. She put the plush back in the box and took the receipt and ran back to the shack with a big smile.

.

When Mabel reached the shack, she ran to her room and found Dipper there. Whatever he and Ford had been doing, it's done now.

"It's finished, Dippingsauce!" Mabel exclaimed showing the box where the plush is. "Really? What's it look like? Is that woman really great like she said?" Dipper asked with obvious curiosity. He would totally hate it if his sister wasted her money for nothing.

"Yes!" Mabel replied opening the box and showing the plush. "Wow, she is good" said Dipper. "I guess now we know why the price is like that"

"Worth it!" Mabel exclaimed with a huge grin. "I'm going to give this to Grunkle Stan later"

 ~~~~

Stan doesn’t know what he was staring at. Well he knows but he can’t believe what he was seeing. Mabel was holding a Ford looking plush right in front of him. It was pretty big. Maybe it’s about 40 centimeters? It looks expensive. Mabel was grinning at him with pure happiness and excitement. Is this for him?

“Grunkle Stan, what do you think? I had this made for you!” said Mabel with a big grin. Stan doesn’t know what to say really. He had no idea why Mabel would do this… and seriously that thing looks expensive.

“I- I don’t know what to say” he replied. Mabel took it as a compliment, fortunately. “I had this made for you” Mabel exclaimed and pushed the plush towards him. “Mabel, sweetie, how much did you pay for this?” Stan asked. “Doesn’t matter, Grunkle Stan” Mabel replied dismissively.

“Mabel if you spent a lot of money for this-“

“If I spent a lot of money for it and you decided to throw it away, then that would be wasting money”  Mabel cut off with a hint of embarrassment in her voice.. That’s logical. But the tone… is she embarrass that he got this for him? It would be a waste of money to throw it because he didn’t like it. But he didn’t ask for this. But Mabel bought it for him (which is also embarrassing) because she was thinking of him.

“Why exactly did you bought this?” Stan asked unconsciously hugging the plush tighter.  “Grunkle Stan, you were sadder – or grunklier – than usual again and I thought it was because of your brother. So I thought of getting you that so at least you can give as many hug as you can from your brother… like how you treated the wax figure before” Mabel replied while twiddling her fingers and face red. She is really that embarrass? Well, it is understandable now. An old man isn’t usually seen with a plush toy that is usually for children.

“Now I really think I wasted my money” Mabel muttered, embarrassed. That look doesn’t suit Mabel, not at all.

“Well, I kind of like it” Stan replied. “Mabel’s face looked surprise. “Really?” Mabel asked with her face starting to brighten. “Yeah! This is a lot better than the wax one. I like it. Thank you, Mabel” said Stan with a grin and playfully messing up her hair.

“Ack! Grunkle Stan”!” Mabel said removing the hand from her hair. She giggled and then gave him a hug, which caught Stan off guard. She skipped happily away with the knowledge of cheering up her Grunkle Stan.

The next day, Stan seemed to get attached to the plush quickly. Dipper and Mabel were proud of themselves. Stan’s mood lighten and he doesn’t glance at the vending machine nor hang at the gift shop often anymore. But he also doesn’t talk to the plush like a person unlike the wax figure. This is better. It benefited everyone! Stan’s happy with the plush and their Great Uncle Ford doesn’t need to be disturbed. It’s a great idea!

~~~~

Mabel and Dipper didn’t expect this…

Their Great uncle Ford obviously did not like it. He had been glaring at the plush whgenever he sees it for 2 days now, which was weird because he seemed to be okay with the plush at first. That was only three days ago. Does that mean it only took a day for Great Uncle Ford to hate it? Is it because they did it without his permission? That can’t be right. They asked permission and he said “yes”. Albeit dismissively, he still said yes!

…Then why? Why would he hate it? What if it’s because it is possessed…? No it can’t be possess. If it is, with or without permission from Stan, Ford would have destroyed it and explained to them why he had to do it. Then why? It’s an innocent plush.

Unless… is Great uncle Ford jealous of the plush, specifically the attention it keeps receiving from Grunkle Stan?

If that is the conclusion, Dipper would be doubtful… at first. It’s proof now. Stan just gave the plush a quick peck on the cheek and Great Uncle Ford seemed ready to commit murder. A few hours later, Stan did it again and Great Uncle Ford almost stormed to the living room if it weren’t for the fact that Mabel and him held Ford back.

Great Uncle Ford is jealous of the plush… This is going to be chaotic…

[cluttermind]

Without A Parachute (4/?) - Smoke and Ashes

Summary:  Emma worked tremendously hard to give herself a better chance. From group homes, to living in her car, to ivy league student, this English Major’s only solace was escaping her reality through books. One night, Emma comes home to find a small package with only her name on it written in beautiful calligraphy. The package contains a thick, brown leather journal. Emma soon learns that the fiction she writes in the journal eventually becomes reality. Will Emma learn to control this gift, or will she fall too fast into the temptation to change too much? With the help of her good friends August, Robin, and Elsa, and the mysterious, intriguing bartender of The Jolly Roger, Emma discovers just how easy it is to lose control, and how difficult it is to pick up the pieces.

Rating: M

Words: 14,041 total / 3,559 Ch 4

Read on ao3: Beginning | Current

Note: I thought this would take a lot longer to write than it did. This one kind of wrote itself.

I'm adding a trigger warning as the end of this one is a little dark. I hope you enjoy it either way! Things are really starting to move forward plot wise :)

TW: implied attempted sexual assault and under-aged drinking.

//

Chapter 4

“Smoke and Ashes”

I heard the church bells from afar

But we found each other in the dark

And when the smoke does finally pass

We will rise above all the ash

- City and Colour, We Found Each Other In The Dark

“It’s open!” August shouted from the kitchen of his large studio apartment. Emma opened the door and stepped in. “Emma! You’re late!” Ela and Robin called out hellos from their spots around the coffee table.

“Yeah I didn’t sleep much last night. What’s for brunch?” She asked, walking to take her seat next to Elsa on the floor in front of the couch.

“Chocolate chip pancakes” Elsa said, licking her lips. “Hurry up, August! I’m starving!” She whined dramatically, nudging Emma.

“Yeah August. Hurry before we perish.” Emma played along with Elsa, attempting to rile August. Robin chuckled, rolling his eyes at their antics. He was sitting across from Elsa, his laptop already open on the coffee table, typing away at a paper due in a few days.

“Nope. You were late. You can perish.” August retorted, flipping pancakes to be added to the growing pile next to him.

Emma gasped playfully. “Rude.” She pulled out her macroeconomics textbook just as her phone buzzed.

Killian Jones: Leaving before I wake up? Classy, Swan ;)

Emma Swan: I left a note!

Killian Jones: But without a kiss goodbye

Emma grinned at her phone like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Emma Swan: Then I guess it wasn’t goodbye ;)

“Well, well, well.” Elsa toyed, “Who are you texting Emma Swan?” August finally finished making an enormous pile of pancakes and brought the tray over to the table. Robin helped by running to grab some plates and silverware.

“Oh uhm Ruby.” Emma lied. “We’re joking about how awful our econ professor is.”

“Well I’m more interested in what the hell happened on Thursday,” Robin chimed in, handing Emma a plate. So much for being in a bubble.

Emma took a deep breath, hugged her knees to her chest and gave them the CliffNotes version of the story. Elsa rubbed her back the entire time. Saying it out loud somehow didn’t crush her they way it had before, as if the words no longer carried the weight they once did.

“Emma that’s awful!” Elsa nearly yelled when she finished speaking. “Don’t listen to a word he says. What kind of professor does that?!”

“What did he say to you after class?” August asked between taking bites of his pancakes.

“That I don’t have what it takes to be a writer.” Emma said, pausing, Killian’s words from last night echoing in her head. You get to make your own choices. Make them based on what makes you happy. “But he’s wrong.”

Her friends, being the wonderful, supportive people they are, stood strongly by her side. Yelling to each other how ridiculous this professor is, how he shouldn’t be a professor, and how brilliant their friend is. In that moment, Emma felt the least alone she had ever felt - surrounded by intelligent, kind, and loving friends who taught her what it means to be a part of a family. Because that’s what they were to her. They were her family. Her beautiful, ridiculous family.

After the yelling had died down and the excessively large pile of pancakes had been eaten, they spent all day studying, taking only a few short snack breaks. Before they knew it, it was dark outside. It was usually around now that they’d quit for the night, having finished enough to go the rest of the weekend relaxing. August nearly slammed his book shut, making the rest of them flinch.

“Geez, August. What’d the book ever do to you?” Robin asked.

“It existed.” August quipped, dramatically. “Can we be done? I need to be done.”

“I think I’ve done all I can for this weekend too.” Elsa said, closing her laptop. “What’re we doing tonight? Movies? Pizza?”

“I could go for a drink, honesty.” Robin responded, mirroring Elsa as he closed his own laptop.

“Drinks anywhere that also has food is usually expensive.” Emma stated.

“Yeah I guess.” August paused. “Oh! What about The Jolly Roger? It’s not that expensive right? Plus if I remember correctly, their onion rings are insane.” August was nearly salivating remembering the onion rings. The last time they had gone together was sometime last semester to celebrate the end of midterms.

“Right! I forgot how good those were.” Elsa responded. “Okay if we’re actually going out I need to change.”

“I’m so hungry. You look fine. Let’s just go.” August responded. Emma giggled about how the tables have turned since this morning when they were the ones complaining about being hungry.

“I’m not going to a bar in leggings and a sweatshirt.” Elsa threw her things in her bag. “Emma and I will meet you guys there in an hour. I have this beautiful dress that you just have to wear tonight.”

“Oh this isn’t an outing outing! We’re going for food!” Robin groaned.

“If we’re going to a bar, we’re going to a bar . It’s been way too long since we actually went out.” Elsa claimed. There was no arguing with her. She was pretty determined to make this happen. Plus, she wasn’t wrong. It had been a while since they went out together. She considered texting Killian to make sure he was working, but she knew he would be since he took yesterday off and thought she’d surprise him.

Emma shrugged and grabbed her things while August grumbled, grabbing the remote to turn the TV on for a bit.  She followed Elsa out the door. At Elsa’s dorm, she handed Emma a simple, low cut, black dress. It was tight, ruched, and hugged her in all the right places. And the glitter got everywhere. Despite Emma’s protests about the glitter, Elsa insisted she wear it. She also insisted that Emma let her do her makeup and that she wear the black heals that ‘go so perfectly with it it’d be a cardinal sin not to wear them.’ Eventually Emma got to look at herself in the mirror, her dainty gold chain with a small gold book charm falling against her bare chest above the deep neckline of the black dress. Elsa was right, the shoes did go perfectly. And her red leather jacket actually pulled the look together.

Except it was freezing outside. Like actually freezing. All she wanted was her sweatshirt that was in her backpack that was now sitting in Elsa’s room.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Emma said, shivering as they waited for the bus.

“Oh come on! It’s not that cold. Plus you look great.”

“August might kill us. We’re so late.”

“We’re 20 minutes late.”

“We’re 30 minutes late Elsa.” Emma laughed as Elsa shugged, clearly not caring about August’s desire for food as they finally stepped onto the slightly crowded bus.

“August will live.”

“I’m more concerned about Robin having to deal with him.” Really what Emma was nervous about was seeing Killian. Butterflies filled her stomach when she thought about seeing him in something other than jeans and a sweater.

15 minutes later, they walked through the doors of The Jolly Roger 45 minutes late. Emma was grateful for the warmth of the pub. She instantly spotted August waving them over. He and Robin had already ordered and had food in front of them.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” Robin joked, drinking the last of his beer.

“Blame Elsa.” Emma playfully nudged her friend next to her.

“Fine fine. This round’s on me. Emma help me with the drinks?”  Elsa said, leading them to the bar.

That’s when Emma saw him, handing a customer a drink at the bar. Part of her wanted to run and hir, the other part of her wanted to run to him. He looked up from his customer and looked in her direction. She swore her heart nearly stopped when he smiled at her, eyes drinking her in.

“Swan.” Killian said, grinning at her as they approached. “Isn’t this a surprise. I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

I did say it wasn’t goodbye earlier, didn’t I? Emma thought.

“You two know each other?” Elsa asked.

“Aye. We do.” Killian said.

“Killian owns the pub. I come here to study during the week when it’s quiet. Sometimes he feeds me.” Emma said. Killian raised an eyebrow at her.  “Okay fine. He feeds me a lot. Killian this is my friend Elsa. Elsa, this is Killian.” Elsa was staring wide-eyed at Emma, mouth open, silently screaming how did you not tell me about him?!  

“Nice to meet you lass.” Killian said politely. His eyes, however, never left Emma’s and Elsa turned her attention back to him. “What can I get you?”

“4 beers and 4 shots of tequila.” Elsa chimed.

“Grilled cheese?” Killian asked Emma.

“With onion rings apparently. The thought of Smee’s onion rings were making August drool earlier. And make it two.” She responded as Killian poured their shots and set them in front of them. Elsa carefully grabbed three of them, letting Emma know she’ll meet her back at the table. Emma downed her shot quickly, wincing as the clear liquid burned her throat. Killian’s gaze sent a warmth up her neck and to her cheeks.

“You look nice, Swan.” He said eventually, pouring them each a shot. Killian held his glass to gently tap it against hers. They both downed the shot.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Aye, I know that, love. But I wear this every day.” Killian leaned forward on the bar in front of her. “So what’s the fun fact of the day?”

Emma looked confused. “The what?”

“You usually greet me with a weird fact whenever you come in here.” He paid attention. He listened to me , Emma thought. Part of her thought he never paid attention to the random things that came out of her mouth. She smiled. He was listening.

So she took a risk. “The whole button down, vest, fitted jeans thing really works for you.” Emma flirted.

Killian took the bait, smirking and raising an eyebrow at her, his voice dropping to a place she hadn’t heard before. “That black dress is really working for me. And I happen to quite like the red leather, love” Emma blushed bright red, her face matching the color of her jacket, and Killian pushed back against the bar, standing straight again. “Your friends are waiting for you. I’ll have Ruby bring your drinks in a second.”

“Tell Smee to rush that grilled cheese. I’m starving.” Emma said as she walked away, returning to the table her friends were at.

“Excuse me but who was that? What was that?” Elsa asked immediately.

“He’s the owner. I told you.” Emma stated, trying to avoid that conversation. “We’re friends.”

“Yeah, okay.” Elsa scoffed. Ruby brought over their drinks and another round of shots, and Elsa’s attention was suddenly elsewhere.

“Hey Emma! The shots are on the Captain.” Ruby said as she set everything down. “Anything else I can get you?”

Emma looked over at the bar to see Killian wink at her. She smiled and rolled her eyes at him. “I think we’re good."

For over an hour, they ate a little too much, drank a bit, and gossiped a little too much about the rumor going around the English Department that a student was sleeping with a professor. After a while Elsa went to get another drink and Robin went to talk to some friends in one of his classes, leaving August and Emma alone at the table.

“Elsa’s flirting with the bartender.” August commented.

Emma's eyes went wide with . . . jealousy? Not that Emma had any reason to be jealous. Killian could flirt with whomever he chose to. They spent one night together, literally sleeping. It didn’t mean anything. Did it?  

August noted her confusion and nodded his head in Elsa’s direction. Emma turned to look where he was motioning to. Elsa was leaning forward on the bar talking to Ruby. They were giggling and Elsa was blushing, sipping on her drink.

“She looks happy” Emma smiled. “And they’re definitely flirting.”

“Oh yeah they’re not subtle at all.”

A song came over the speakers that Elsa and Emma both love. Emma watched as Ruby bothered Killian into turning the volume up and Elsa looked back at Emma, grinning from ear to ear. They had danced to this song hundreds of times in Elsa’s dorm and August’s apartment. Elsa nearly ran over to her, pulling her to her feet. They were nearly screaming the lyrics at each other, their hips swaying with the music. It wasn’t long before most of the pub was dancing with them.

Killian laughed as he watched Emma. He had never seen her this carefree, this full of life. The sight of her with her friends having fun sent a shiver of warmth through his body. As unsettling as that was, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, wanting to save this image of her forever.

“Dance with her.” Ruby said to him, pulling Killian out of the trance Emma had put him in.

“What?”

“Go dance with her. I’ll manage the bar for a bit.” Ruby held her hand out for his phone so she could keep the music going. He rolled his eyes, handing it over. As the song ended Ruby kept the energy going by putting on one of her carefully curated dance party playlists.

Killian snuck up behind Emma, hands grabbing her waist from behind. “Hi, love,” he said into her ear, laughing as she squealed from the unexpected touch

Emma turned her head back to smile at him, recognizing his thick accent. “Killian!” She laughed, clearly a little tipsy by now. Emma leaned back against him, her body still swaying with the beat of the music that somehow keeps getting louder, her ass moving fluidly against his hips. Elsa bounced away, making her way over to Ruby at the bar, leaving Emma and Killian as alone as two people could be in a crowded pub.

Killian ran his hands up her sides, entirely lost in Emma and the music. She turned around, laughing in his arms. Her hands rested on his shoulders and his found their place on her hips, pulling her close to him.

She was singing along to the music entirely off key on purpose And he laughed at her, his body moving easily with and against hers. Killing kept her tight against him. If he wasn’t working, if they weren’t in a crowded room, Emma might find her hands wandering places other than where they were playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Killian’s blue eyes locked on hers and she struggled to catch her breath. Emma’s entire body was humming in reaction to the way he looked at her and the way his hands rested possessively on her hips. Suddenly Emma crashed her lips against his, pulling him closer to her. Shocked for a brief second, Killian’s eyes shut as he kissed her back, his passion, his eagerness matching Emma’s. His arms wrapped tightly around her and the world fell away around them. Emma’s entire body was on fire as she kissed him. She kissed him like she had been waiting to kiss him her whole life. He kissed her like she could heal every broken piece of him.

Then the song changed and Killian pulled back.

“Wow” Emma breathed, finally releasing the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding for so long.

“Aye." He grinned. "I have to get back to work, love,” Killian said, a tinge of disappointment noticeable in his voice as he stepped back, putting distance between them. “To be continued.”

Emma smirked at him as she made her way back to her table. August was lost in the crowd, as was Robin. She finished off the rest of her drink before joining Elsa, who was clearly oblivious to everything other than the cute bartender in front of her. Emma bumped her with her hip playfully.

“So he’s hot .” Elsa whispered, barely loud enough for Emma to hear over the music.

“He’s not bad.” Emma smirked before confiding in her friend. “I kissed him.”

“Stop.” Elsa gasped. “Tell me everything.”

“Oi, love. I didn’t take you to be the type to kiss and tell.” She heard Killian tease. Her face went bright red. She hadn’t realized he was standing so close or that she was talking as loud as she was.

“Eh it was average.” Emma teased back, pretending to ignore him while she continued her conversation with Elsa. “He could use some practice.”

Killian raised his eyebrows at her, and leaned in towards her across the bar. “Is that a proposition, Swan?”

“Potentially.” Emma’s head was starting to spin. “I think I’m going to head home though. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Elsa asked.

“Nah it’s just a few blocks. I’ll be fine. You have fun.” Emma said. “Do you know where August and Robin went?”

“Robin left a few minutes ago with that girl from his philosophy class. I think her name was Regina?”

“Hm go Robin.”

“August’s at the other end of the bar with some guys I don’t know.”

“Ah well, I’ll let him be. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Emma asked, pulling Elsa into a hug.

“Definitely.”

Emma grabbed her jacket, bracing herself against the cold as much as possible. Everything was spinning around her. She didn’t remember having that much to drink. Her head was killing her. She stumbled a bit. These damn shoes . She felt sick, and dizzy, and weak. She heard footsteps behind her. Her legs gave out beneath her. Someone grabbed her upper arm tightly - too tightly - to keep her upright. Emma flinched at the pain in her arm. Suddenly her body was flush against another's, someone who she didn’t recognize.

“Let go.” Emma protested as much as she could but her body was betraying her.

“Shut up,” the man snarled at her. His voice was dark and rough.

It hit Emma like an earthquake, slow and confusing at first before the earth split beneath her. It hit her that this wouldn’t end well. There were few versions of stories like this that did. As a writer, as a woman, she knew. Emma didn’t know when she started crying. The cold wind felt colder against her wet cheeks and the dread of what would come next filled every fiber of her being.

And while she wasn’t religious, a familiar prayer popped into her head, a shadow of a memory from some of the religious-based group homes she had found herself in.

Hail Mary, full of Grace

She wanted to jerk her arm out of his grip, hit him wherever she was able too. She couldn’t tell if it was the fear or something else that was paralyzing her.

The Lord is with Thee

He walked her a few steps forward, her feet dragging against the sidewalk. No. No. No. Please. Even her voice was betraying her. His grip on her arm tightened when she tried everything she could to pull away.

Blessed art thou among women

Her body was trembling yet her mind was blank. Thoughts beyond the plea to a God she didn’t believe in were unable, unwilling to form. Emma refused to think about anything beyond the time it took for one foot to be dragged in front of the other. She couldn’t remember the next line of the prayer. She skipped it. Everything was simultaneously happening too fast and too slow.

Hail Mary, Mother of God

She could barely keep her eyes open or her body standing. She had to lean against him for support. This made Emma sick to her stomach. Tears fell faster as she begged to see tomorrow.

Pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death --

“Swan! You forgot your phone!” Killian called as he ran out to catch Emma. His voice cut through the night, interrupting the final word of her petition.

“LET HER GO!” She heard Killian run towards her.

The man in the hoodie cursed when he heard Killian’s voice and ripped Emma’s necklace from her neck. “I’ll get you one day, pretty. One day you’ll really fall and I’ll be waiting,” he whispered harshly. The man tossed Emma to the ground, discarding her from his grip, before sprinting away. Her head hit the concrete sidewalk. Pain and relief and fear and disgust and guilt washed over her.

Killian was kneeling at her side in an instant. “Emma, are you okay?” His accent was thick with concern as he lifted her head off the sidewalk. Everything was still spinning. Everything was still slipping away.

She opened her wet eyes to see Killian close to her. Everything was going dark. Everything was spinning. The only thing in focus was Killian’s blue eyes. Emma felt like she was drowning and the world around her was going dark.

Even though she felt herself sinking deeper, Killian’s touch, his presence, his voice gave her the strength to allow the word she’d been wanting to scream for the past minute and a half finally escape her lips.

“Help.”

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Christmas without Miracles

I’ve fallen a bit behind on my contributions to @drawlight’s Advent Calendar, but behold!

One fic using two prompts so I feel less guilty!

This one takes place in the early 1800s. No specific location - just isolated, outside of England, and cold.

This is supposed to be a few years before the 1862 argument, but if you want to headcanon a universe where this happens instead of the 1862 argument, that’s cool, too.

06 - Sleigh Bells/07 - Silent Night (2,630)

Snow had started to fall.

Just lightly, each white flake twisting down from a sky dark with clouds.

All the usual nighttime noises – insects, animals rustling in the undergrowth, even the wind in the trees – were silenced. Just the gentle hush of snow accumulating, molecule by molecule.

Aziraphale knew he should be inside. There was a fire blazing in the hearth, the cabin bright and warm and empty. Two of the three would be an improvement on what he had out here, standing on the porch, looking across the rolling, tree-dotted hills.

Cold. Empty. Silent.

He hated the silence most of all.

--

Crowley didn’t hate snow, so long as he didn’t have to travel in it.

Walk, and your boots filled up with snow.

Ski, and you looked ridiculous anywhere outside the Alps. And in them, too.

Riding a horse was out – if he went the rest of eternity without ever sitting on one of those again, he’d be happy.

But anything with wheels was also out – carriages and wagons and carts could barely handle clean city streets.

Trains were good, if the tracks were cleared, but so far Hell had not been interested in his proposal to build a train line that stopped at every human residence in the world. Which was fine, that had only been semi-serious, anyway.

The only remaining option was to use some form of sled.

He glared at the…sled? Sleigh? Whichever. It was small, just enough room for one person, or a small pile of supplies, to sit in it the seat, but whoever drove it had to stand behind on the runners. It was pulled by some kind of long-maned pony or very small horse that looked like it had its own ideas about who was in charge.

The bridle and reins were covered in bells.

“Do you have one without the bells?” he asked, not even really hoping.

“Nope,” the man said with the cheerful joy of one who knows he has the transportation market cornered for the next few months. “Those bells let people know you’re coming even when they can’t see you. And anyway, they keep off the evil spirits.”

“So I’ve heard.” Crowley reached over and flicked a finger at one of the large silvery bells.

Chk-chk-chk

The whole line jingled, sending shivers up and down his arms, settling at the back of his neck.

He hated that noise most of all.

--

Too many frivolous miracles.

First, a letter full of such threatening language that only a trek through a revolution-torn city to find his favorite pastries – as well as a not-quite-chance encounter with a certain demon – had been able to calm him down again.

Then, a commendation. Congratulations on performing your job perfectly as always.

And now, a “meditative retreat” – five months alone to think about what he should and shouldn’t be using his powers to achieve. No miracles allowed.

A month and a half in, he’d decided – he hadn’t the faintest idea.

Take the most simple of duties: sometimes, he was assigned to keep a person safe.

Did that mean use a miracle to stop them from being injured? Or to heal them afterwards? Or was he supposed to guide them, miracle-free, as if he were another human? Do what seems best, he’d be told, but what seemed best to him never seemed best to anyone else.

Or protecting himself – his corporation, rather, since Aziraphale’s true self was rarely in danger. Could he use a miracle to avoid a dangerous situation? Heal himself from an injury? Was his body the same as a human body, or less valuable? Was all this a waste of Heaven’s resources when he could simply get a new body? How many miracles were equal to one body, anyway?

Questions he shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t have to ask. He should just know. Angels received their orders, obeyed them, and chose the best course of action, because that’s what angels did.

Angels weren’t supposed to get confused.

But Aziraphale did. All the time. What did that make him?

--

Crowley preferred to do everything by miracle.

Need new clothes? Manifest them.

Need money? There it is.

Food? Never bothered to learn to cook. When he was hungry, he pulled fully prepared meals out of the nearest cupboard.

Hell rarely tracked exactly what he did, as long as he could demonstrate evil had been accomplished.

But they did track where he was, using miracles. It didn’t do to be more than a few miles from where you were supposed to be.

This wasn’t anywhere near Venice, which was a pity, because he’d rather like to be in Venice right now.

He stared around the bakery. “I don’t know. Just get me several things that are hot and edible.” He had a list, but it wasn’t helping. “Do you have a…stuffing? Or butter?”

“You can get butter from the general store,” the baker’s wife offered, putting together his packages.

“No. The shop person said they didn’t have any dairy.”

“He just meant milk and cream. They’ll have butter, and cheese if you want it.”

Crowley dragged the heel of his hand across his forehead. He’d lived in agricultural societies. He knew perfectly well that butter and cheese were both dairy. “Fine. I’ll go back. How about the stuffing?”

“You’ll want to make your own.”

“Really don’t.”

“I can give you a family recipe!” She started writing in pencil on the brown wrapping of one of the packages. “You’ll need ground beef, sausage…”

A few minutes later, Crowley opened the door to the bitter cold wind outside, making all the bells in the wreath jangle up and down his already-raw nerves.

Chk-chk-chk

He paused, cracked his neck, and kept walking.

--

Aziraphale finally had to return to the cabin, as the snow had piled up higher than his feet.

Only a single room – wood stove, table and benches, rug; there was a bed even though he didn’t sleep, a few pots and pans even though there was no food. 

No chair. No books. Well, one book.

Gabriel had left him a journal, and pen and ink. Encouraged him to write down his thoughts.

Aziraphale thought best when he was reading, talking, engaging with someone or something. For the first few weeks, he’d talked to himself a lot, arguing with the empty room, having mock conversations, even reciting poetry he had memorized.

But slowly the oppressive quiet had settled across his soul. And he found himself picking up the pen to write –

What? What could he write about? His doubts? His confusion? What would he even say?

When it got to be too much, he tried drawing, sketching out what he could see. That helped a little, but once he’d scribbled down images of the room, the hills outside, the one tree he liked to walk to…well, he was back to the same dilemma, what to write?

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to list a few questions. Just so he could think about the answers.

--

Chk-chk-chk

The door of the last shop slammed behind Crowley, bells clattering. Shaking his head to clear it, he checked his list one more time. It looked like he had everything, though the ink was already smudging where snowflakes fell on it.

He settled the packages into the sled, tucking a blanket all around them, and pulled up the collar of his coat against the biting wind.

“Better leave room for yourself,” said the kid.

Crowley looked him up and down. Seventeen or so, son of the man who had rented him the sled and horse. He was supposed to drive it out and return with it.

“Nope. I’m driving, you’re staying.”

“That’s not how this works. We only have a few, and we need to be able to get supplies out in an emergency –”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Crowley handed over a pile of money. “This should cover the sled and the horse, in case I don’t come back. Plus a bit. Give it to your dad.” He considered the kid another moment. “You have, I don’t know, a girl you like? Boy? Anything?” The kid tried to give him a stubborn, blank look, but some of that pink wasn’t just from the cold. “Whatever, not my business.” Crowley handed over the rest of his money, saving only what he would need to get back to London. “Give him, her, or them something nice. Cheers.”

While the kid was still staring at the pile of money, Crowley climbed onto the runners of the sled and took the reins in both hands.

Chk-chk-chk

He felt that one in his stomach.

With another jingling of sleigh bells, he shook the reins –

And nothing happened.

“Go.”

Nothing.

“Move, horse!”

Now it was just embarrassing.

The kid leaned against the sled. “Are you sure? I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course I don’t!” He jerked the reins back, trying to ignore the way the sound of bells hammered into his spine. “But no one can know where I’m going.”

With a shrug, the kid shoved the money into his pocket. “Pull on one side, gently, to turn. Not too sudden, it’ll tip over. Whoa to slow down, walk to go, and remember, you’re in charge.” He winked, and walked away with a swagger that wasn’t quite as good as the demon’s, but better suited to over six inches of snowfall.

Clutching the reins again, Crowley called: “Walk.  WALK!” He shook them hard. “COME ON YOU BLESSED HORSE, WALK!”

Nothing moved.

--

Once Aziraphale had started writing, it was hard to stop.

Page after page. Whatever entered his mind.

It was nice just seeing the ink flow.

Hearing the scratch of the pen fill the silence.

--

Crowley got off the back of the sled and walked up to the horse, grabbing it by the bridle. “Listen, here, you, I am in charge!”

The horse snorted and stomped directly onto his foot.

“Nghaa that was not – ugh!”

The horse shook its head, jingling the bells again and again until Crowley was ready to tear his own ears off, until Crowley let go and stepped back.

The horse lashed its tail.

“Look, fine.” Crowley grumbled trying to stand where the horse could see him clearly, despite the snow that was now falling thick. “You’re in charge if that’s what you want. But I need to get somewhere. I should have been there hours ago. Days ago. You are my only way of getting there. I have nothing to bribe you with. I promise, you get fed either way, you get brushed either way, and you will absolutely get enough apples and sugar to make you sick because I’m not doing anything else with those.”

He reached out a hand to touch the horse. He had lived in agricultural societies, but he was much more comfortable around the crops and plants than the animals. Still, rather to his surprise, the horse let him stroke its nose. “Please. This is more important than you can imagine. Just get me there.”

He stepped back onto the runners, picked up the reins. “Walk.”

The horse didn’t walk. It moved much quicker than that.

--

Aziraphale lay down his pen, wiggling his fingers after all that writing. There were a lot of words on the page. Perhaps he should read over them.

He found himself walking back to the door, stepping into the silent night outside again.

The snow was falling so fast it was almost a physical thing, blocking his view even where the light from the door should have been enough to see the edge of the woods. It spilled across the porch, piled at the corners of the cottage.

And still, everything was so quiet. Even the wind, which had picked up, seemed to carry only the flakes and not any sound –

Were those sleigh bells?

A moment later a horse came into view – one of the small, sturdy northern breeds – pushing on through the unbroken snow, pressing through the storm with determined strides, pulling behind it a small sled and clinging to the back of that –

“Crowley?”

“Whoa,” called the dark figure. “Whoa – I said whoa! We’re here!”

With a final jingle of bells, the horse stopped in front of the porch, and Crowley fell backwards, off the sled runners and into the snow.

“Crowley! What the Hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Angel.”

“You’re supposed to be in Italy!”

“Yeah, I am. No, don’t worry, I can pick myself up.” He started to rise, then stumbled again.

Aziraphale rushed forward. “I’m – I didn’t realize – what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Bloody sleigh bells. Chase off evil spirits.” He clasped Aziraphale’s hand, pulling himself up. “I’ll be fine, just need to get a drink and warm up.”

“Of course, but – I don’t have any food or drink.”

With a very tired grin, Crowley tossed aside the blanket in the sled. “Happy Christmas, Angel.”

--

Crowley had needed to compromise on a few things.

He had the goose, and what he was assured were all the ingredients needed for stuffing and gravy.

Potatoes, brussels sprouts, and parsnips had been easy to find; and something he was almost certain was redcurrant sauce.

There had been no plum pudding this far from England, or mince pies, or fruitcake – though he wasn’t certain fruitcake was something you bought, it was possible all fruitcakes already existed and were simply eternally exchanged. He had managed to get a variety of sweet pastries.

Lots of wine.

And two bundles of books – the ones he had picked out at stops on the way, and the ones he had taken from the shop. Aziraphale shouldn’t have been surprised Crowley knew his favorites, but the demon was pleased at his smile either way.

There were two things to take care of first.

Crowley spied the notebook as soon as he stepped in. He only glanced at it long enough to see that Aziraphale had written a lot.

Then he picked it up and dropped it into the flames of the stove.

“Crowley! That was a private journal!”

“No it wasn’t.” He pulled off his glasses and glared at Aziraphale. “What did you think, they were going to let you keep that? Ask you to tell them the important parts? They left you here alone to write your own confession.”

Aziraphale clenched his teeth, didn’t say anything.

“I don’t like it.” Crowley grumbled. “They’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t know what’s changed.”

The other issue was the horse.

“No, I can’t have a horse in the cabin!”

“You can’t leave it outside, Angel, it’s a storm!”

“I thought you didn’t even like horses.”

“I don’t! But this one got me here and…” Crowley shrugged. “And it’s as much of a bloody-minded stubborn bastard as you are, so you’ll probably get along.”

Aziraphale sighed, and Crowley could see him start to give in. “How am I supposed to hide the fact that there’s been a horse in here when Gabriel gets back? We can’t miracle it clean.”

“Eh, just tell him some traveler lost in the storm stayed here a while. It’ll be true enough.”

--

And so, with the horse in the corner working through its feed bag and having the night of its life, Crowley and Aziraphale set about figuring out how to make a Christmas dinner.

It wouldn’t be perfect.

Neither of them had ever cooked without miracles before. There was immediately an argument over how one peeled a potato, and what exactly stuffing was for, really.

It wouldn’t be perfect.

But the jangle of the bells had ended, the silence had been driven from the cabin, and once again they were together.

And that, in a way, was perfect.

[strangerivy]

Double Life Strangers - One

Summary: All Lillian has is a journal of the other Lillian. The one that belonged here. The one that had lived their life here in The Shire with Bilbo. Gandalf knows but only gives her small hints. Can she figure out her purpose before it’s too late? Will she stay? Or will she leave when the journey is all over? Warnings: Swearing Pairings: Fíli Durin X Original Character (Lillian)  Genre: 18+ | Fluff | Angst Word Count: 2486 Author’s Note: Alright. Here we go. Double Life Strangers. I hope you enjoy this story; I have enjoyed writing it. Feel free to leave any feedback, I always love hearing back and yeah!

Links: || One | Two | Three | Four (Coming Soon) |

My life was fairly normal. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I had an average apartment in an ordinary town. It was simple and I liked it. My job however wasn't ordinary, I would say it’s the exact opposite. I was a surgeon, so I guess that balanced out the ordinary in my life to extraordinary. I didn't hate my life. I loved it in fact. I loved every minute of it. I loved saving people’s lives. I loved making the impossible, possible. So, you could imagine when I woke up in a bed that wasn't mine and in a home that wasn't mine. The confusion I felt why this was happening to me. Why did I end up here? More importantly, how did I end up in Middle fucking earth.

I knew right away this wasn't just any home in middle earth, it was in fact, Bilbo Baggins hobbit hole. I closed my eyes in hopes that when I opened them again, I would be in my bed and in my home. That this would just be a very realistic dream I was having. Nope. I closed them again, squeezing them very tight.

"No. No. No." I whispered quietly to myself dragging out the last no in a bit of a whine. Open. Still not home. My breathing started to become uneven and I was gripping the bedding so tight my knuckles were beginning to turn white. There must be an explanation for this. I felt my heart beating so fast it felt like I was going to go into cardiac arrest at any moment. My face was hot. My body was hot. I threw the covers off, sitting up and throwing my legs over the side of the bed. I closed my eyes and took three extremely deep breaths feeling my heart start to slow down. I opened my eyes again and I took in my surroundings. The room was comfortable. It was warm and inviting as was expected for a hobbit hole. The sun was shining brightly through the small round window behind me. There were books scattered all around the room, similar to how my room looked at home.

I stood up slowly expecting to nearly hit the ceiling, but I didn't. My eyes went wide with panic, I looked up raising my hand to touch the ceiling and I barely could. I reached down touching the top of my head measuring the distance and there was a good foot, if not more, between me and the ceiling. I closed my eyes once again looking down at my feet, I opened them and let out the breath I was holding in. My feet. My normal, human-looking feet. What the hell am I? I jumped nearly falling back onto the bed startled by the loud knock that came from the closed door.

"Lillian, are you awake?" It was Bilbo, I recognized the voice. That's still my name. Good. I still have my name. I took a breath trying to get rid of the shakes.

"Um, yes. Yes, I am!" My voice came out slight shaky, but it was still my voice. 

"Good! It's nearly mid-day! Don't want to sleep all day now do you?" I heard him chuckle and then walk away from the door. I heard another door open and shut. I sat back down on the bed and that's when I saw on the nightstand was a black leather-bound journal. I quickly grabbed it running my thumb over the two gold letters over the front. L.B. I didn't know why but it brought a smile to my face. I shook my head trying to recollect my thoughts and opened the journal to the last entry written.

23/4 2941

Another day in The Shire. Another boring uneventful day. I crave adventure! I want to see the world. To see mountains and elves and everything this world has to offer but my brother...he has forgotten that want. The thrill of all that. Maybe it’s because I am not a Hobbit. Maybe it’s because I am now 80 and have done nothing but stay in The Shire. Maybe it’s because I am not really a Baggins. I do not know. I don't enjoy the comfort of The Shire anymore and its routine life. Bilbo does, I just wish it was more like when we were younger. I need to leave; I need to find out who I am.

L. 

I closed the journal more confused than when I opened it.  Brother? Bilbo?  That entry gave me more questions than answers but it shows that I am someone in this world. I have a history. A life. I looked around and found a dresser. I walked over and opened the drawers and pulled out a simple long dark green pleated skirt and a plain tan shirt. While getting dress I noticed the full-length mirror in the corner of the room next to the window. I took a deep breath in to calm my nerves as I walked over to it. I relaxed instantly when I saw my reflection. I looked the same. Like me. Just shorter. Much shorter. My brown hair still long, reaching just past my shoulders and still had a slight wave to it and my eyes. The same blue eyes I had back home were staring back at me. For all intents and purposes, I was still some form of myself. 

I turned on my heels facing the door to leave what I assumed was my bedroom. Right next to the door were a pair of boots. Now realizing I was barefoot I grabbed a pair of thigh high stockings out of the dresser putting them on before grabbing the boots and lacing those up. They were beautifully made dark brown leather boots that laced all the way to the top and had three buckles in the shape of a leaf. They were comfortable as well which was a bonus.

I looked back at the journal grabbing it from the nightstand and opened the door. Now this I recognized. I looked down the hall and saw the front door. I have seen the movies, once. I had some idea of this world I was now magically a part of. This part of Bilbo's house I knew. This was familiar, in a sense I suppose. I went to open the front door when I stopped just before grabbing the handle when I heard Bilbo. I pressed my ear to the door to listen in.

"Can I help you?" Bilbo asked whoever he was speaking with.

"That remains to be seen," I peeked up at the side window to see who he was talking with and it was none other than Gandalf the Grey. "I am looking for someone to share in an adventure." Bilbo lowered his pipe down and look at the old wizard stunned with a hint of disbelief. I sunk to the floor putting the information together. This was it. This was THE adventure. The quest for Erebor. I tilted my head back against the wall gripping the journal to my chest.

"Why am I HERE?" I yelled out in frustration yelling out the last word a bit louder than I had wanted, catching the attention of the wizard just outside.

"Is that Lillian I hear in there?" He seemed glad to find out I was here. I stayed in my spot not quite sure what to do in this situation. "Well come out here my dear girl! Let me see you, it has been ages." He shouted, I took a breath pushing myself up off the ground and threw the front door open with a smile.

"Gandalf." I greeted trying to act as if I knew what was going on and was still the Lillian he knew. He smirked and raised an eyebrow at me. odd. He gave a small head nod in greeting.

"You know him?" you turned to Bilbo who was looking at you in utter confusion and then out of nowhere, as if this memory had been there the whole time.

"Of course? You don't remember Bilbo?" He shook his head lifting his arms into the sky in frustration but with no words to describe it. I laughed. "He used to tell us of all his adventures whenever he came to visit. We used to act them out when we were younger!" I felt excited watching the memories in my head and then my face dropped. I shouldn't have those memories. What just happen?  I looked up at Gandalf and he had a very suspicious look on his face as if he knew something was different. I would need to somehow get to speak with him in private later.

"Ah yes!" A memory finally clicking for Bilbo. "Gandalf the wandering wizard who made such excellent fireworks! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve!"

Gandalf frowned "I guess I am pleased you at least remember something of me, even if it’s just my fireworks." We stood there in a bit of silence, Bilbo glanced over at me in confusion and me giving a shrug of how I was just as confused. I wasn't an expert on the movies, the one time I watched them I thought they were very good but I had no idea what to expect now that I was here.

"Well that's decided, it will be very good for you two and most amusing for me." I imagine Bilbo had the same face as I did, utter confusion. He couldn't possibly mean to bring me on the quest to reclaim Erebor. Could he? "I shall inform the others."

"Others?" Bilbo asked, I could tell he was completely confused now and a bit ruffled up. It brought a small smile to my face. He never got like this. More memories came to the surface, playing like a movie in my head. I frowned again walking back towards the house. What is happening? How do I have these memories? This was beginning to get very odd. I looked down at the journal in my hand. I would just need to read more. I entered the house and Bilbo was not to far behind me.

"We do not want any adventures here, thank you. Not today. Not -- " Bilbo stopped before coming inside. " I suggest you try over the hill or across the water, good morning."  He entered the house and you stared at him trying to hold back the laugh you had at his disgruntled state.

"That old wizard really ruffled your feathers." You chuckled walking into the sitting room and taking a seat in one of the chairs to read some of this journal. "What do you think he meant by it being good for the both of us?" 

"I don't know and I do not want to know." He stormed past going off into the house somewhere. "I am going to get some things for dinner, I will be back later." I lifted my hand and waved goodbye to him before opening up the journal to read another entry, this time something further back.

15/6 2921

Bilbo and I played outside the majority of the day today while his mother and father looked on. It's moments like these I wish I had my mother was here. To enjoy the memories that were being made. She would have loved Bilbo, he had so much spirit compared to most hobbits. I love the Baggin's. They treat me so well and I will always be grateful for them taking me in when no one else would. But I wish... I wish I knew who I was. Where I came from, what my history is. I have so many questions and every time I ask Belladonna, she says it is too soon. That I am not ready for such trouble yet. I am not sure what she means by that. Another day, I guess. It's always another day. 

L. 

The memory of this entry flashed before my eyes. I looked around, Bilbo hasn't returned yet. I turned a few pages landing on a new one that was longer than most in the journal. How was I able to remember the memories in this journal if I wasn't the one that lived them? I lifted the book back up and dove back into the pages.

02/4 2934

We're alone. Belladonna passed away a few days ago and I don't know what to think. I don't know what to feel. She brought so much laughter and happiness to my life. How do you move on from such a loss? How does a heart mend itself from such heartache? I promised her I would look over Bilbo until it was my time to move on and my life to another direction. I don't know what she could mean by that. Bilbo is the only family I have now. I will always look over him. No matter what. We have been inseparable since the day he was born. I don't see that changing anytime soon.

I know what I am... Bilbo and I found my mother's diary in his mother's glory box. My mother  was a human, something I already knew. But my father... my father was a dwarf! Can you believe it? I can hardly myself! Seeing as the only quality I have to a dwarf was my height and perhaps my stubbornness! Ha. Now it makes sense that Bilbo's father would say I was as stubborn as a dwarf. Otherwise though I look human. Just oddly short. No wonder no one in the human cities would take me when my mother was trying to find someone to take me in because of the sickness that was quickly spreading throughout her body. They probably thought something was wrong with me as well!

I know these next few months will be difficult for us as we sort through how to live without his parents. I don't think it should be too difficult. I just hope we don't become to dull!

L. 

I closed the journal setting it down on the table next to me. I rubbed my temples. I could feel a headache coming on.

"Dwarf?" I muttered under my breath. So I wasn't just one race. I was a mix. Half-human, half-dwarf. I heard the front door open and close knowing Bilbo was now back. I heard his footsteps move past me. I set my hands down and looked behind me.

"What's for dinner today?" I shouted at him, he poked his head out of what I assumed is the kitchen.

"Fish, why don't you come and help me with the biscuits?" I sighed and stood up, might as well pass the time. I knew sitting here feeling sorry for myself wasn't going to do me any good. Might as well make the best of this situation.

[outofnewjersey]

Start Spreading The News |College!Shawn AU

Summary: You meet Shawn at a bar/club, then walk to a cafe and talk all night. A few weeks later he’s taking the summer Jounalism course you’re the TA for.

Word Count: 2,212

Warnings: None

A/N: Hi Shawnblr!! This is my first fic ever! I’ve spent a lot of time working on this piece, I hope it shows.💕

Part 1

You really didn’t feel like going out. You just wanted to stay home in your fuzzy pjs, eat popcorn, and watch a murder documentary. Yet, your best friend had bigger plans.

It was 9:30PM when you heard a knock at your door. You decided to ignore it and get settled on the couch. The knock got louder and then you heard your friends voice from the other side.

“Y/N it’s Kelly open the door! I know you’re in there!” I groaned as I stood up from the couch, I walked up to the door wrapped in a blanket. I opened the door to Kelly in a mini dress and heels just as high as my expectations in a man. She looks me up and down somewhat annoyed as she lets herself in. I close the door as I roll my eyes and turn back to walk to the couch. As I sit down Kelly is staring at me.

“Y/N what are you doing? It’s Saturday night! We’re going out!” She said as she sat down next to me.

“No we’re not I’m getting ready to watch the Ted Bundy documentary I told you about!” I replied sass clear in my voice. Kelly looked me up and down, I have a messy bun and my glasses on as well as my fuzzy pj pants, a T-shirt, and a blanket wrapped around me.

“No Y/N we’re going out! I’m not letting you stay cooped up in here all night!” Kelly said as she made her way to my room. I groaned and rolled my eyes as I followed behind her. She whipped open my closet to pick out an outfit. I plopped on my bed and just stared at her.

“Kelly, seriously I’d rather just stay in tonight. I’m not in the mood, and just look at it outside! It’s supposed to storm soon!” I said as I pushed up my glasses looking toward the window hearing the rain fall on the fire escape. She already had 2 outfit options in her hand. She threw them at me as she went to the bathroom to grab my makeup bag. I groaned in annoyance as Kelly made her way back with my makeup bag. She rolled her eyes at me and asked “Did you pick what you’re wearing yet?!”

I looked down at the clothes in my lap, Kelly had picked out 2 dresses. A little black strapless dress and another dress similar in blue. I sighed and looked up at her. “The only way I’m going with you tonight is if I’m wearing jeans.” I said flatly hoping she would argue, disagree, and go by herself. Luckily for me she agreed and was so happy I “changed my mind about going out.”

It was now 11:15PM when the rain finally let up and we made our way to the bar a few blocks from my apartment. I ended up wearing minimal makeup despite Kelly’s protest. As well as high-waisted jeans with a Yankees T-shirt and an Adidas windbreaker. Just incase it’s going to rain/storm some more like the weatherman said it would, but you never know. I mean, it’s New York. We finally got to the bar after what felt like forever. Kelly wasn’t missing a beat despite her ridiculously huge heels, she practically dragged me inside. When we walked up to the bar Kelly grabbed one of the bartenders attention and ordered.

“I’ll have a cranberry vodka!” Kelly said with a smile.

“Sure thing! Coming right up.” The bartender replied as she took Kelly’s order. I immediately recognized her voice.

“Zoraida?!” I say excitedly looking up over the bar.

“Oh my god! Y/N! Hi! Long time no see!” Zoraida replied with a smirk as she walked away to grab the bottle of vodka. Zoraida is a friend you met in your Biology class 2 semesters ago. She became a good friend and study buddy, but with your two crazy schedules you weren’t able to see each other much recently. Zoraida handed Kelly her drink, but before Kelly could grab you to scout out the place for cute guys you told her you were going to catch up with Zoraida. You told her you’d find her later as she walked away toward the dance floor. Zoraida made her way toward you as you leaned against the wall at the end of the bar.

“Would you like anything to drink Y/N?” Zoraida asked leaning closer so you could hear her better. “A water would be great!” You said with a smile.

Zoraida sat down the glass in front of you and said, “So what’s been up with you? We haven’t had the chance to talk in a few weeks!” After taking a sip of the water you nodded and said, “I know! Since the semester ended Professor Sanders asked me to be his TA for his summer Journalism 101 class at NYU. Even though the class doesn’t start for another 2 weeks, he’s been driving me crazy! He’s given me lesson plans and notes for the class already. He’s even made me create some of the assignments!”

Zoraida was about to reply, but she looked behind you with her eyes open so wide they looked like they were going to pop out. “Hottie 12 o’clock!” Was all she said as she walked back to the other end of the bar. My own eyes went wide at the realization a guy was about to come up and talk to me. I quickly calmed down as I felt his presence next to me.

“You like the Yankees, eh?” The stranger said with a smirk.

“Yes, and you like the Blue Jays.” I replied with an expectant look in my eyes, while holding back a smirk.

“How’d you know I like the Jays?” The stranger replied with knitted eyebrows while rubbing the back of his neck cheeks turning rosy.

“Nobody from New York says ‘eh’.” I said with a chuckle. I look up at the stranger meeting his eyes. I felt heat creeping up my face. I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t making me nervous. He was breathtaking with his hazel eyes, curly brown hair, and pearly white smile. He was wearing black jeans and a Calvin Klein hoodie with a leather jacket. He pulled me out of my gaze with an out stretched hand saying, “I’m Shawn!” A blush growing on his face matching mine.

“I’m Y/N!” You say biting your bottom lip holding back a smile as you shake his hand.

After you two release the hand shake, you grab Shawn’s attention starting a conversation. Which was so unlike you, you were on the shyer side; yet something about Shawn drew you to him. “So... what brings you to New York?” You said looking up at him. Despite the dim lighting you couldn’t help but notice his facial features. You noticed everything from how his lips curved to how sharp his jaw was. Shawn reply’s, “I actually go to college here, I go to NYU!”

“Ohhh, that makes sense why I haven’t seen you before!” You said with a smile. “I go to Fordham, and most people that come to this bar go there as well!”

Shawn nodded and said, “Yeah, I had to switch apartments for the summer. My friend Brian, his dad owns the apartment we’re renting and he wanted to fix it up a little bit for us. So, we’re staying around here until it’s done!”

Shawn smiled while looking around the room. He adverts back to you and says, “Would you like to go somewhere quiet? We can go to the cafe across the street?” You were a little shocked to say the least, but you happily agreed. You both got up from the bar and headed for the door, Shawn with his hand on you shoulder so he wouldn’t lose you through the crowd. You had forgot you came with Kelly, hopefully Zoraida will let her know you had left.

Walking into the cafe you offer to wait in line, but Shawn said he would and asked for you order. While he was online you went and found a booth. Shawn returned with your coffee as well as one for himself.

You talked for what felt like hours. The two of you talked about anything and everything, you eventually got to the topic of your majors plus the stories behind them. You explained your lame story about how you feel in love with the Yankees and baseball which lead to you wanting to be a journalist. You explained how you would write down all the hits, and important moments of the game. You would then make it into an essay, which sat on the kitchen table waiting for your dad to read with his morning coffee.

Shawn admired how you knew so much about the game and the teams starting at such a young age. You just blushed and gave all the credit to the New York Daily News and New York Post sports sections, but Shawn wouldn’t let it go.

“Y/N seriously I bet your articles are amazing!” Shawn said looking out the window. You didn’t have the courage to look up at him with your face turning into a tomato, yet you managed to mumble “Thanks.” Shawn then looked back at you with a smirk like a light bulb went off in his head. He took his phone out of his pocket and went on Google.

“What are you doing?!” You asked with a curious smile. “I’m looking up your articles from Fordams newspapers website, duh!” Shawn said with a laugh as he pulled up the link. “Shhaawwwwwnnnn!!” You whined as you face palmed. “What? I wanna see how good of a story teller you are!” Shawn beamed looking up at you from over his phone.

You rolled you eyes trying to hide the smile creeping on your face. Shawn started to read the headline of your latest article. “Bed Bugs at Lincoln Center, McKeon Hall.” Shawn looked up at you with shock all over his face and said, “Oh shit, are you kidding?” You started giggling and said, “Nope! I even had to go there and interview people, I even had to bring the photographer with me!” Shawn just looked at you in disbelief that you actually had to go inside the building.

“I was so creeped out and scared one of the little suckers would jump in my purse or something!” You added with a giggle. “I mean they are tiny, and yeah they’re gross. Maybe one did jump in your purse without you noticing.” Shawn said with a smirk and a shrug of his shoulders. You shook your head trying to hide the smile that appeared on your face looking anywhere but at him. Something about Shawn made you feel like you could be you. Unlike how you normally act around new people. You were always so shy at first which you never understand with being a journalist. You tried to think of what drew you to him, maybe it was his aura and energy? After shaking yourself out of your thoughts you decided to ask Shawn the story behind his major.

Shawn was happy to start telling his story, his eyes lit up to a beautiful golden brown despite the dim lighting. You could see how much passion he had for his major just through his eyes, and he hasn’t even started talking. Shawn explained, “I knew I wanted to do something with music, but it became clear while on a family vacation to Portugal when I was younger. It was my first time there, we were visiting my dads side of the family. We were in the middle of the city and I just randomly decided to start singing. I never truly understood why, but I just knew it was something I needed to do.”

Another hour passed by and you never realized it had started raining. “Oh no Shawn, it’s raining!” You said staring out the window. You then checked the time, 2AM. “Shawn, it’s getting late we should get back home.” You said disappointed. “Of course Y/N! Let me walk you home.”

So, there you were running down the street in the pouring rain with Shawn only a block away from your apartment. You couldn’t stop giggling. You would catch a glimpse of each other behind your hoods, quickly looking away with smiles on our faces. You just shook your head keeping your thoughts to yourself, on how much you hoped you’d see him again. The thought slipped your mind when you finally got to the front door of your building. You turned and asked Shawn if he wanted to come. He was just as soaked as you were. He politely declined and said “Thank you Y/N, but I should get home. I’m actually only another block from here!” You nodded and thanked him for the coffee and being great company. Shawn gave you a huge smile and a hug to your surprise, but you happily returned the gesture. He then waved goodbye and said he’d see you around.

Boy did you hope you would.

————————————————-

Authors Note:

I hope you all enjoyed Part 1!! It would mean the world if you could reblog and share with your friends! I’m currently working on part 2, please comment if you’d like to be apart of the tag list!💕

[les8ean]

i'm not familiar with any of your ocs! but i would love to hear about them! are there any that can do magic/have some sort of supernatural abilities? or are just really, REALLY good at what they do (art, music, etc)?

well I have a million different AUs for all my OCs sdkgjhkfshg but my main magicky OCs are Alyren and Nova

picrew used

Alyren is a high-elf mage, mastering in restoration. she grew up in Shimmerene with parents who were diplomats. they very much followed the Aldmeri culture of needing everything to be perfect, and The Best™️. They pushed Alyren to be a mage, and everything she did as a child was to get their approval and affection (which didn’t come often). One day when she was 9 she decided to do something to really impress them. She found a spell tome for a powerful fire spell, and spent hours practising it, trying to make it work, trying to make it perfect. But she fucked it up. the spell raged out of control and burned her body extremely badly. she lost her left arm (where she’d been focusing the spell) and had the left side of her face badly burned (the burns are bigger than than they are in that pic, but not many picrews have options for burns scars so i did what i could sgjhkfjh). Her parents found her before the fire killed her, and put it out, but Alyren had been extremely badly scarred. she turned to her parents, whimpering for help. they looked at her, then each other. they threw a blanket over her, and grabbed her, running out of the city in the dead of night and deep into the forest. They abandoned Alyren in the forest, scared and scarred. They called her hulkynd. Alyren wandered through the woods as best she could, trying to find her way, half blind. but eventually she collapsed, and accepted that she was going to die here. and with her being hulkynd now? she thought she deserved itIt surprised her when she woke up, in a bed, her wounds covered in ointment and bandages. the bed was rattling, and through a small window nearby she could see trees going by. she was in a caravan. she sat up, and saw an argonian woman sitting at a table nearby.Alyren had been saved by some travelling mage’s guild scholars, who had been given exclusive access to the summerset isles for their studying (Alyren was born before the second era, when the Isles were opened to outsiders). they’d found Alyren collapsed on the side of the road, and had picked her up.after that, they took Alyren back to Black Marsh with them, to their guild hall. they got Alyren a prosthetic arm, and had their best healers help her with the pain and scarring. It took Alyren a long time to learn to love herself again. in a lot of different ways. her appearance. her being hulkynd. her failure at that spell. her being trans (although being around argonians when she came out, it was much easier for her than it might have been back in summerset). 

Alyren never used fire magic again, instead mastering in Restoration (tho she of course dabbled in the other schools. Alteration in particular fascinated her). She had a natural talent for magic of all types, being the top of most of her classes. as she got older, people told her it was a waste of her talent for her to choose to master in restoration (it’s not a very well respected school (*cough cough* Colette Marence *cough cough*)). this just made her more spiteful to be better at Restoration magic.while Alyren learned not to live for perfection and the approval of others, she still somewhat wanted to prove to others that Restoration was not the useless school of magic that others saw it as. it could be a dangerous, powerful tool in the right hands. most people only saw the school of restoration as healing magic, but it was so much more.(this is gonna get kinda gross here and also probably not lore friendly becuase this is all just my personal speculation on the possibilities of the school of restoration, so feel free to skip this is you want, i just hate that restoration is always seen as weak and shitty) you see, above everything else, the school of restoration was about inspiring growth. who's to say that you should stop the growth once the broken bone is healed? you could continue the growth , make the bone thicker and stronger, or perhaps have it grow in shards, piercing through the muscle and flesh or even the vital organs if you choose the right bones. you could flesh upon flesh, weighing a person down, incapacitating them. you could grow more red blood cells, more blood, drowning a person in it. with strong and complex enough restoration magic, you may be able to regrow an entire body simply from a severed finger. and the growth doesn't need to be limited to a person. it could apply to any living thing. plants, insects, animals, the smallest bacteria.  really, Alyren couldn't help but think, Necromancy and Restoration were simply two sides of the same coin. (okay gross stuff over it’s safe to read again now) she thought that earning a title as a professional teacher of restoration in the Arcane University might give her the respect and approval she would never admit she still craved.

When she was in her 40s, Alyren was invited to join the Psijic Order for her incredible skill in magic and her amazing discoveries regarding restoration. Here, Alyren thought she might finally have her skill recognized, and not have to constantly try to prove Restoration’s worth to others anymore.....NOPE. if anything, things got worse. she knew her peers made fun of her mastery behind her back. her books and notes would be stolen. people would make a point of loudly talking about the usefulness of healing potions while she was in the room. But she put up with it. not every psijic looked down on restoration, and she found herself befriending those that respected it. Artaeum’s halls held more knowledge than she could ever have imagined, and she wasn’t going to let that opportunity pass her by . the collection of ancient tomes and dangerous artifacts fascinated her, and she made every day count.

But she couldn’t stay there. it wasn’t only the other psijic’s view of restoration that drove her away. it was the way they looked down on everyone back on Tamriel. their refusal to use the knowledge they had to make the lives of everyone else better. the policy of not getting involved in anything in Tamriel, wars or plagues or even end-of-the-world scenarios. they would only get involved if it benefited them (I.E, the Eye of Magnus). Alyren couldn’t stand it.So, after nearly 60 years, Alyren fled. she enchanted a bag of holding, and filled it with as many artifacts and books and relics she could. She made a pendant that would hide her soul-signature from other Psijics (Psijic’s have their soul-signature edited to allow them to get to Artaeum, which is essentially in another dimension). and she ran, to live with an old friend. an immortal khajiit named Junnaya (it’s a long story). Junnaya and Alyren had been friends since Junnaya was just a child (again, long story) and Alyren was like a big sister to her.

these days, Alyren lives with Junnaya at her home, a manor hidden deep in the mountains between Cyrodiil and Skyrim. Junnaya has her own reasons to hide, and already had the manor’s location hidden behind many magical barriers to stop anyone finding it, so adding one more to hide Alyren wasn’t difficult. the two are close friends, and often antagonize each other in the way only best friends can. Alyren continues her study of Restoration (and the things she stole from Artaeum >:3c), and uses what she knows to help those in need.

picrew used

Nova can see ghosts! he’s been able to since he was born. it has something to do with his unusual eye colour.as a child, his mums would joke about him having imaginary friends, when really he was talking to the many spirits that were around. it wasn’t until he was 8 that he realised no one else could see what he could see. since then, he’s been filling journal after journal with everything he’s learned about how ghosts and spirits work, where they come from, how they pass on (this post is already long enough so........ i won’t get into the unreasonably long ghost lore i have written specifically for this singular OC..................)

[ain-t-bovvered]

Serendipity 13

RE-POST  EDITED: @waywardbaby

A/N 1: so I’m slowly getting back in the writing thing, I first need to finish to re-post this act so I don’t get overwhelmed by the others too. Bear with me while I finish this I NEED to get this done, then I’ll get back at the others.

Pairing : Dean X Reader

Characters : Dean , Sam , Castiel and Jack

Warnings : slow burn guys…slow burn . Also some fluff, humor,feels and angst.

a/n : this was my first ever spn writing. It started as a one shot and I couldn’t put it down to rest and kept writing and writing. Don’t know what else to write honestly….this is my first born and I love it, I hope you do too.

summary: You were minding your own business at work, in your little town.Your world was small and uneventful, work,studying,gym,netflix, a devastating heartbreak, the need to travel, the craving of freedom, adventure…just something different. You just knew you needed more .

Suddenly an American green eyed stranger walks in and, like someone heard your prayer ,your life won’t be the same.

Masterlist : Serendipity

catch up! : Part 1   Part 2   Part 3    Part 4    Part 5   Part 6   Part7  Part8   Part 9 Part10  Part11  Part12

You didn’t sleep. Not that you thought you could, so nothing surprising there. That has been unbelievably pathetic and sad.

How in the hell were you supposed to go and meet them this morning? You groaned knocking your head on the bus’s window, too tired to drive. Almost missing your stop, you pushed people out of your way and managed to get off just in time.

It was a sunny day again but you couldn’t enjoy it. Your mood was foul, because of lack of sleep, too many people around and a massive awkward time awaiting. So if the sun was out and singing you couldn’t care less. From across the street, you saw them waiting. Sam massaging his temples and Dean faking reading the bulletin board.

“Ok, you can do it. There are monsters in this world, you fought a ghost and met a witch. You can definitely face one Dean Winchester”.

Balancing your journal and your trustful gigantic thermos full of hot coffee and milk, you took a deep breath and crossed the street.

“Hi guys!” you chirped behind them. They both spun around startled. Nope, one Dean Winchester was much more intimidating.

“Y/N, morning,” Sam said weakly.

“Oh wow! Sam, you look ….awful. I brought you coffee. You’ll thank me later”

Dean stayed silent but nodded at you, hands in his pockets.

You nodded back and said nothing.

Yeah!

What possessed you to think you could face one Dean Winchester looking like that.

Sam stared at both of you frowning. “Alright I’m too hangover for this” he sighed. “Shall we?” he motioned you to go ahead.

Once inside, Sam looked like a child in a candy store. You laughed tiredly and turned to Dean to make a joke but it died in your throat. He had stayed behind peering outside a window with a bored look on his face. Sam called after you, shifting your attention to him, and you didn’t see Dean’s gaze fixing on you.

“We should ask for this book, this one, that one and that one too…also ask if they have some of these documents and these records”. Sam gave you a long list of names for the assistant, who after reading it frowned. You laughed it off nervously, scurrying to the table where Sam was slumped on the chair, head leaning over his arm. How bad must he be feeling right now?  

You took out three mugs out of the bag you had brought from home and started to fill them. The aroma filling your nose and slowly, very slowly, Sam’s head lifted as the fumes called to him. Plopping down on your seat, you let the smell lull you, giving you life again. With your eyes closed, you enjoyed the first sip, leaning your head back letting out a long groan of relief as the coffee already worked its magic. Coming back from your little moment of ecstasy, your eyes met Dean’s. He was looking at you longingly, and as he crossed your eyes he instantly looked elsewhere. Sam was again caught between this exchange and eye-rolled grabbed his mug taking a sip.

“This is great,” he said smiling contently, deciding that it was too early for all that.

“Y/N, here’s your books, and I found some of those records you asked. Anyway what kind of exam are you preparing?” The library clerk stopped by your table unloading the pile of dusty books. You paused, your brain panicking. “Uh... I’m writing a paper on how some old Italian families are connected to esoterism”

“Oh ok,...weird...but okay. Well, enjoy” he nodded at them.  “Just remember to write the time you finish. Here are the gloves”

“Thanks”

You were nose deep in books and papers for hours, while Sam looked more and more like a human again, avidly asking you to translate phrases, helping you with some of the Latin and filling other blanks in your journal.

Dean…

Dean was gone. He had announced after the first half-hour that he was going to stretch his legs and breathe some real, fresh air before, ‘we could pass him the nerdiness’ he had said. Every now and then, your eyes would search for him.

“Don’t worry. He’s always like this”

“I’m afraid it’s because of me“

He snorted.  

“I really don’t think so”

Sam watched you nibbling your lips and sighed,’ these two idiots’ he though. “Here, the sooner we finish the sooner we’ll join him”.

“And that should cover most of everything. I’ll let Castiel fill you in on the angel parts”

“But he’s not here. How can I ask him if he’s coming to pick you up tomorrow?”

“You can pray to him and if he’s free he’ll come”

“…texting is so 2018”

Sam chuckled while scrolling through papers and documents. You saw him freeze and he quickly got up and walked to the window. Narrowing his eyes he brought a yellowed page closer to his face.

“What is it?” you asked on your tippy-toes, trying to see. He smiled and turned the document to you, “I don’t see it”, you frowned scanning the document.

Lifting a gloved finger he pointed to the corner of the page.

“Look closely”. Squinting behind your glasses, you looked where he was pointing. In the top, right corner was a faded sigil.

“That’s not a hunter’s sign,” you said confused.

“No, but it’s a Men of Letters’ one. This proves there is a branch here too. There are a few names listed here. We can trace their legacies and hopefully, we’ll find their locations. This way …”

“-this way I’ll have someone to contact” you whispered.

This was exciting. Your heartbeat faster and you looked at Sam, eyes glistening feeling like you had actually found something to look forward to.

In the next hour you discovered there were still some families left, but if they were active or not was your job to find out on your own.

You and Sam were still discussing the best approach while exiting the library that you almost passed by Dean who was waiting for you, leaning with a bored look against the wall.

“Dude, where have you been?”

“Took a stroll in the castle and since I was there I searched for ghost activity, just in case.” His eyes shifted on you and said: “Guess what?” He wiggled the EMF device, grinning satisfied, “ No more ghosts”.

“Nice” you smiled back, and then your tummy protested and Dean’s one followed.  You both looked down.

“Nice to see you two getting along again” Sam chuckled.

“So guys, when are you going to call Cass?”

You had suggested having lunch where you worked since you had tonight’s shift so starting early in order to gain some extra cash seemed like a good idea.

“First thing in the morning should be fine. We can use these few hours as a vacation. I don’t remember the last time we did this, Dean?”

“There was that time we went to that lake, that lasted what? Maybe less than a week? I don’t know”

Sam scoffed “Oh yeah! Hadn't you just come back from the dead?”

“Yeah. Which time was it?”

“Ah, no! Right!  I think I had just cured you from being a demon”

“And some monsters had busted your arm”

“I swear you guys make the weirdest conversations” you interrupted, shaking your head.  “Here we are. It is warm enough to sit out. Is that ok?”

Just as you started to sit down two arms grabbed you from behind and a high pitched shrill drilled into your ear as Sam tensed and Dean stood up alarmed.

“Y/N!”

Your friend squealed again in your ear “You're still alive? How did that night go? You didn’t text me back”

“Hey” you said, disentangling yourself from her tight embrace. “Sorry, I forgot.  I’ve been busy “

Her smile widened dangerously, “Oh, I bet you were”. She lowered her voice a bit.  “Sooo, was he that good to you?”

You blushed and looked briefly at Dean who luckily didn’t understand a thing but wore a curious expression and your blushing got redder. Her eyes followed yours and she gasped.

“Is that …?” she looked at you again, “Oh my god he was! Right? Oh my god! What the hell? He’s hot! And...”, her eyes shifted to Sam, “Who is the exquisite giant?”

“This is Dean and Sam Winchester”

You said in English so as to include them. “Guys, this is Y F /N, my friend.”

She pushed you aside, scrambling to shake their hands taking particular interest in Sam who, by now, just wanted his hand back as she leaned into Dean.

“So... Dean…I hope you gave my girl a good time”. She elbowed him and winked. He looked at her confused and then slowly smiled smugly as his eyes settled on your panicked face. “She needed it so bad, like, I think she hasn’t seen a d-”

“Y/ F/N!”, you yelled in panic, dragging her away from Dean. “What the hell?! Nothing happened!!”

“Oh. Well maybe I coul-“

“Shut up...” you snatched the menus from her hands, “...and come back in a few minutes for our orders”

You turned to the boys embarrassed, Sam chuckling and Dean casually looking anywhere but you.

“..um, sorry about that…”  mumbling with your face hidden by the menu.

“That was amazing, I’m gonna miss this when we go back to our normal fast food diet” you watched as Sam patted his tummy satisfied.

“Hey!! I cook for you!” Dean said as he was still stuffing his face.

“No, please!! I can’t eat anymore” Sam whined as he saw your friend coming back with more plates.

“Don’t be rude Sammy” Dean said with his mouth full.

“Sam, please.  I’m gonna treat you for helping me and as a goodbye gift”

“Is that pie?” Dean’s eyes sparkled pushing to the side what was left of his meal as Y/F/N put the plate in front of him. “Oh, hell yeah!”

“This is our region traditional pie. You all like chocolate, I hope?” The pie had a crunchy chocolate and almond bottom and the filling was chocolate biscuit soaked in coffee and light mascarpone cream. All of this covered with a thin sheet of dark chocolate flakes.

“You better order some more if you want to eat too because he’s gonna eat it all by himself,” Sam warned eyeing his brother who was cutting a thin slice, pushing it to Sam and diving into what was left, not even caring that his mouth was covered in chocolate.

“This is awesome” he said mouth full. “Sorry. You wanted a slice too?” and by the look on his face you could tell he didn’t really mean it.

“I’m good”, you chuckled, tapping your fingernail on the small cup of coffee.

“Y/N we should get the check “

“Nonsense! My treat. You spent the morning babysitting me”, you hushed Sam, looking at your watch.

“Well, this is it! I’m gonna stay here and start my shift earlier. I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your ‘vacation’”, you said tying the maroon apron around your waist.

“We could come for a drink later,” Dean said, “if you want, that is.” You couldn’t help the wide smile that spread on your face. You really were not ready to say goodbye.

“Yeah…I’d love that, we’d love that”

“Yes please do! I need something nice to look at!” your friend shouted from behind the counter as you walked them to the door.

You watched their backs as they walked away. Dean glanced back and you smiled brightly waving. He smiled back too and all seemed to be back to normal…Well, at least close to how normal these last few days had been.

Y /F/N hugged you from behind, her chin laying on the top of your head.

“Damn Y/N” she said dreamily and clearly watching their asses by the way you felt her head tilting to the side. “Where did you find them?”

You both signed.

She grabbed your shoulder and spun you around to face her.

“…what the hell is wrong with you? What did not happened with Mr Freckles?”

“…I don’t know! I froze and he only tried to take my hand.” You smiled, bitterly, shrugging. “I’m hopeless. I guess I’m still hung up on...well you know...“

“Yeah, yeah I know and the fact that you can’t even say his name is a clear sign”. Now her face was serious. “How can you still be? It’s been months!”

“After almost 7 years, I’m sorry if there’s no switch off button”, your voice broke.

“Yeah, but you are so hung up on someone that never existed anyway. He just played the part and you were too blind to see it-”.

You avoided her gaze. You knew she was right. You had said those things to yourself too.

“-and you are also doing nothing about it!” She grabbed your face.

“I know it’s hard but, you need to start living again”, her eyes softened, “he sure as hell has. You are so stuck in this hole you dug yourself and I don’t want you to suffocate in it, losing whatever chance on happiness comes your way because you are stuck down there.” Tears pricked at your eyes and you felt a lump in your throat. She hugged you tightly and whispered in your ear “I care for you too much to let you do that to yourself; you deserve the world that he wouldn’t give you. So snap the fuck out of it ”

“Okay!”, you smiled weakly.

“Promise me”, she said grabbing your shoulders and shaking you hard.

You laughed, cried, and sniffled… whatever.

“I promise!”

“Good! Now, tell me, is Sam single?”

You pushed her away laughing and went inside.

“Hey bitch! I’m serious!”.

It was the middle of a busy shift and you both were juggling around the tables, not a moment to catch your breaths when out of the corner of your eyes you saw the Winchesters coming in. They certainly stood out of the classic crowd, tall and burly, wrapped in plaid and leather. They radiated that foreign aura everywhere they went. Sam and his impressive height and long hair, Dean with his bowlegs and striking green eyes.

Yep!

The Winchesters were a rare sight and probably the most exciting thing that had happened to your sleepy town during that time of year. As you waved back at them you couldn’t help but catch some curious and envious stares from some of the customers and the brothers chuckled as you almost crashed into a chair on your way to meet them at the counter. Embarrassed, you indicated the bar stools, the only seats available.

“Hey guys! Sorry busy night, it’s going to quiet down soon”

“No problem” Sam smiled at you.

“What can I get you?”

“Beer’s fine for now”. Your heart leaped in your throat at the sight of Dean, looking as gorgeous as ever. You on the other hand probably looked like a mess, sweaty and flushed, apron covered in stains, part of your shirt wet with beer that had spilled over you and pretty sure your braid hang sad and disheveled on your shoulder.

“Coming right up”

Later you were able to spend some moments chatting with them when you heard the door opening again. Before you could turn to greet the new customers, Y/ F /N stopped you.

“Eer, don’t worry about that Y/N. I got it.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. You already have too many orders to serve”

“No I-”

You didn’t let her finish and walked away grabbing the menus.

“Oh, shit!” Dean heard Y/F/N say.

“What is it?” he asked.

“The ones that came in….Y/N‘s ex is one of them”

“Oh…”, they both mouthed.

“No, no this is bad. It’s her first time seeing him after..” she scratched her head “…after a year. Fuck!” she began panicking “I shouldn’t have let her go”

“Hey guys, you already know what you want or should I leave th-“

“Y/N”

You froze.

Shit.

“...Hey” you managed to say. You felt your entire ex-group of friends’ eyes on you.

“…w-what do you all want to order?”

You took their drink orders mechanically and turned around but he grabbed your wrist preventing you from getting away. At that moment, you crossed eyes with Dean sitting at the bar.

Dean watched how she stiffened. Even from behind, he could tell she was uncomfortable and her body screamed that she wanted to run. She still took their orders, but when she turned to walk away, the bloke grabbed her wrist blocking her as she turned around and locked eyes with him.

She was livid, her bottom lip trembled and her eyes were hollow. He wanted nothing but to go there, twist his hand and set her free, but before he could do anything, he saw her closing her eyes, taking a big breath and turning around.

“Why doesn’t he let her go? “ Dean growled feeling uneasy at the whole thing happening before them.

“I don’t know, they look like they are talking”

“Does she look to you like she wants to talk to him?” Sam asked worriedly.

“..No! I don’t know what to do. I can’t go there and pull her away in front of everyone.  Her boss is here. She’ll hate me”

Dean watched as she squirmed under his grip again, more fervently and then she flinched in pain.

“HEY WE’RE DRY OVER HERE!!” he shouted. He saw her pulling free and running to them.

He barely had time to look at her expression. She looked like a hunted animal, but before he could say or do anything, she hurried past him and disappeared in the back room. He got ready to follow her but Y/F/N stopped him.

“Give her time. She doesn’t want to be seen like that, trust me”

Dean sat back slowly, him and Sam sharing a worried look.

“Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip”, you were pacing in the middle of the storage room, your chest felt tight and tears threatened to spill. Sighing, you leaned against the cold wall and threw your head back hoping the gravity would stop the tears that were threatening to spill. When the buzzing in your head stopped, you smacked your cheeks with both hands and took a long shaky breath.

“Ok girl, you got this!” You walked out and met the others.

“Hey, you ok? I’m sorry! I should have gone instead of you”

“please. This is my job. Besides, it would have happened eventually, right? We live in the same city”. She gave you a quick hug and resumed her work not before throwing another worried look in your direction. You walked behind the counter, stopping in front of the boys. You quickly glanced at them and smiling weakly, you grabbed the first bottle within reach, poured a generous amount of whatever that was and gulped it all down.

You grimaced and shivered, “That was disgusting….ok,” you slapped both hands on the counter, “So, where were we?”

“Err…Y/N you want…to talk about it?” Sam began.

You laughed.  “Nope”.

Sam scoffed peering at Dean, who responded with a mouthed ‘what?’.

“So, how was the rest of your day?” you continued rubbing your wrist without thinking.  Dean’s eyes did not miss it.

After talking with them you started to relax. They told you about the Men of Letters and the bunker that they call home and you finally got to ask about Jack after you had insisted.

“He sounds….nice,” you said not entirely convinced. He was still the son of Satan.

“Apparently the Antichrist likes nougat,” Dean said sipping from his bottle.

“Y/N …”

Your face fell…apparently, the boy can’t take a hint. Sam and Dean turned to the source of the voice.

You acknowledged him, “The bill?”

“Ah…yes, thanks”.

You moved to the cash register. Dean watched how you rubbed your hand on your jeans before grabbing the piece of paper with shaky hands.

“ 40 in total, cash or card?”

Dean did not understand what were you saying but your voice was steady and flat as you gave him his card back.

“Thank you and goodnight,” you said glad that this was over.

“Wait Y/N!”

“NO!!” you snapped, few heads turned your way, “no” you repeated, lower between your teeth.

“I don’t understand, I did nothing for you to be this angry”

You stared at him. You knew he was genuinely confused like he had always been. Never did anything, nothing was ever his fault; the others can’t understand, all the bad in the world was on his shoulders.

“Exactly. You did absolutely nothing”

You peered at Dean who sat closer to where you were, eyes darting between you two, evaluating the situation. “Listen, this is unnecessary…just go please”.

“God!! You haven't changed a bit”, he scoffed unpleasantly. That blow landed perfectly and suddenly it was hard to breathe and your face was hot.

“Is there a problem here, pal?” both your head and his snapped up to Dean who had turned around in his seat.

”Dean it’s ok –”

“No it’s not. I don’t understand what he is saying, but I can tell it’s making you uncomfortable, so…,” he snarled back looking at him, tilting his head, smiling coldly. “What’s up, big guy?”

He looked at Dean and then at you sneering.  

“Oh I see!” he leaned closer over the countertop.

“Is this how you get off? You must be thrilled. Tell me. Do you speak in English when you get f-“

“Hey!” Dean grabbed his upper arm stopping him from leaning further into you. Sam startled, stood up too putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“You paid, time to go buddy!”

He tried to unsuccessfully wriggle out of  Dean’s grip.

“Tell your lap dog to keep his hands off me”.

You put a hand on his arm. “It’s ok Dean. He’s going, right?”

Dean’s grip softened.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going”

He snatched his arm back, massaging it and walked away. He stopped at the door.  “I’m sorry”, he said looking at you.

“No…No you are not. You've never been sorry in your whole life”, you smiled sadly and his face fell.

“Y/N…” you heard Dean’s voice close, but your eyes were glued to the now closed door. He put a hand on your shoulder and you jumped, startled.

“Y-yes?”

“You okay?” he asked, peering at your face.

“Yeah”

That sounded weak. You cleared your voice.  

“Yeah, I’m fine”

He kept staring at you, lifted his hand to cup your face, his thumb wiping the wetness under your eye. “Then why are you crying?”

“What? I- I’m not” you backed away and touched your cheeks. You were indeed crying. Your face was wet and the tears wouldn’t stop. You maniacally wiped them with your sleeve. “I’m…I’m sorry I don’t know why…I’m sorry”. You ran past him and out the door, Dean calling after you.

He easily found you later, sitting nearby on the edge of the marble fountain facing the old church.

“Can I?”, he asked and you shrugged. He sat beside you, his warmth radiating and you suddenly felt very cold.

“So…uhm…the ex”

“Yep”

“Yeah, break ups, uh?” he bumped his shoulder into yours. “Tough sons of bitches, am I right?” he chuckled nervously.

“I wouldn’t know. This is my first”

“Oh!” his brows shot up.

“Yeah. Maybe, that’s why it’s so hard now. Maybe the next won’t hurt this much”

He signed loudly “...not sure about that kid, they all suck in their own way”

“Awesome!” you saw his hands fidget and you smiled bumping into him too.

“It’s okay. I’m okay...In fact, I think that was the closure I needed “

“What?”, his grin returning, “No car windows smashing, trash his house, poop mails?”

“Nah, I don’t need that and he doesn’t deserve it, really” He really didn’t. You rubbed your wrist again, lost in thoughts.

“Does it hurt?” He said reaching towards you but stopping. Instead, put his hand on his knee.

You peeked at his face as he was awkwardly watching some of the few people walking by and then your eyes fell to his hand. You stroked the crystal that was now constantly around your neck and holding your breath you reached and intertwined your fingers with his.

@curly-haired-disaster @time-travel-bouqet    @dean-winchesters-bacon     @babyimp1967      @wingedcatninja      @imma-winchester-addict       @ravenangel33     @maimalfoi      @purpleskiesandcherrypies        @marilynnlew       @mariekoukie6661    @wayward-and-worn       @thewinchestertales    @raelady1184       @mah1c       @spnskinnyballs      @starfirerules       @missjenniferb       @hunterswearingplaid       @sculptorofbeginnings      @younoeatcheeseyounobefat       @theangelwinchester       @missihart23       @weathergirl83       @ravenhg      @soloarcana       @itsstillnotwhatyouthink       @sexykitten253       @ackleholicwinchester       @clarinette07      @biawol       @snffbeebee       @daskleinevolk       @demonic-impala        @icequeen6666      @hobby27         @sandlee44       @formulafun    @linki-locks11      @tw1721boobear      @thatsnotwhoifuckingam      @thisismysecrethappyplace      @katiecurls75       @bcfangirlthatswhy    @flipperjanga11    @srsllydunnodoncare   @katriel-tumbles   @henrietteoaks   

[besidemethewholedamntime]

‘i forgot my name again.’ + FS 💞

thank you so so much for the soft angst prompt! This got me writing so quickly and I loved it! It’s a little angsty and contains memory loss/amnesia but it’s not sad, if that makes sense! I loved writing it! Thank you

love is more thicker than forget

{Read it on Ao3}

or read below!

He knows as soon as he steps in the ward that todayisn’t a good day.

In fact, he thinks he knew before that. When he woke upthis morning the leaves on her plant had wilted slightly. The milk was off andthen the warning light appeared on the car. The weather is colder now. He sawhis breath when he woke up this morning in his empty and lonely room.

So his heart sinks in his chest and he feels afamiliar pressure build up behind his nose but still he holds the flowers hecarries carefully and makes sure to not bang the carrier bag he carries off thedoors. `When he gets to her room he pauses, rearranging his emotions like Tetrispieces, before he beams an almost-genuine smile and enters.

Jemma sits up in bed, looking out of her window. Thenurses have already been in, he sees. The bandages on her arm are fresh andwhite, and the new dressing on her hairline contrasts more so with her hair. That’salso been brushed, too, until it falls in waves around her shoulders. She won’tlet him wash it, won’t let anyone touch her like that, and so they’ve beenmaking do with dry shampoo just now. Grey streaks at her scalp. The bottle andthe hairbrush lie on the side table.

She doesn’t look around as he enters, too caught onwhat’s outside. Her lips move ever so slightly. Fitz recognises the game. Thedesperation of naming everything she can see outside, starting again when there’sa word her brain can’t grab from its memory. On other days it gives him hope,but today is just makes him sad.

He sets down the bag, places the flowers in the vasethat waits empty to receive them. She looks up, then, and there’s almost a flickerof recognition before she says what he dreads with trembling lips and glassy eyes;

“I forgot my name again.”

They tell him that eventually it won’t hurt as much.They tell him that they just don’t know why. He wants to ask a higher power. Hewants to take it back.

It makes him so angry. For the past five days all hehas done is raged a war with three sides; anger and sadness and relief. For she’salive and that is surely something. But she’s lost her memory, lost herself,and it makes him ache in the strangest way. And he’s so bloody, unimaginably angrythat it had to happen to her.

But anger has got him nowhere, as his bruised knucklesand battered bedroom wall can attest, and so he only smiles gently, sits downin the bed next to her and says, “It’s Jemma.”

“Jemma.” She says it slowly, as if tasting it for thefirst time. “I like it.”

He chuckles, reaching slowly for her hand should shedecide to back away. “I’m glad. It really suits you.”

She places her hand over his. It’s freezing.Reassuring. His whole world has been tilted on its axis, hers thrown completelyoff, but her hands are still cold.

Maybe, just maybe, things will be alright.

“I remember you,” she tells him, eyes earnest. “Notfrom… before, but from the days you’ve been here. That’s got to be something.”

“It’s brilliant,” he tells her, stroking her hand withhis thumb. “Have the doctors been in today?”

“No, not yet. They say I’m a doctor, too, but I…” shelooks down, “I don’t remember.”

“Would you like me to tell you or do you want to waita bit?”

Her eyes, always so infinite, betray a gratefulnessthat hurts his heart. “Wait until later, hm?”

“Of course.” He smiles but his throat is tight and,regretfully, he lets go of her hand to reach into the carrier bag. “I broughtyou some things from ho- I mean just some things I thought you might like.”

A nod is all he gets but it’s hopeful and in thismoment, it’s enough.

He brings out some things that her family have sent.Childhood toys that produce some recognition. A blanket with ‘Jemma’handstitched in purple across the front. Then some things from work. Apaperweight shaped like a double helix. Her latest completed ‘to-do’ post-itnote. Then the things from their home. The things that went in first but he hasto bring out last. While she marvels over things her hands know but her eyesdon’t, he falters over the things that keep him going.

The photograph of them from university that she keepson her bedside table. They have their arms around each other, the free handsholding their graduation caps aloft. Then there’s the necklace she wears everyday, the one that the paramedics removed along with her other jewellery. Itseems safe to give – the last thing he wants to do is make her feel bad for notremembering. Then there’s her jumper, that she wears with pyjamas. The one that’sreally his and neither can quite remember when she acquired it.

“It’s so strange,”she whispers, hands brushing lightly over all the things laid out on theblanket. She looks up at him. “I know all of these things, or at least I thinkI do, but I don’t know them at all.”

Hear thrumming with hope, Fitz thinks he smiles alittle too wide. “That’s good, though. You know them, really. The rest willcome back.”

The rest must come back. He wishes for the thousandthtime to trade places with her. If it was him… she’d know exactly what to do.She’d have all the journals read, all of the evidence studied. Jemma would beclued up on the brain until her own was coming out of her ears. There would beno punching of walls, no crying herself to sleep until her throat was so rawuntil she could barely talk. No arguing with the doctors… well, he allows himselfa small, discreet smile. Perhaps, in that respect, they are alike.

“I’ll try to remember, Fitz,” she tells him, sniffingloudly. “I promise I’ll try.”

“Hey, hey, Jemma, no.” He sits back down in the chair,taking her hand, holding on tighter than he means to. “No, you jut focus ongetting better, alright? Your memory will come back on its own.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

He’s asked himself this question a lot over the pastfive days. The research he has done, the people he has asked, and everythingcomes back different. What will he do if she only ever knows him in her heartand not her head?

“Then I’ll help you, alright?” A deep breath. “If youwant me to. You’re still Jemma Simmons. Still the best person I’ve ever known.”

For things might change but that will always stay thesame. She will always be someone to him. No matter what. There’s nobody else.Could never be anybody else. She will always be Jemma Simmons and she willalways be a wonder. Nothing can ever take that away from him.

She chuckles sadly, swiping away a tear with her freehand. “I don’t even know me.”

“I will remind you every day,” he says solemnly,swearing to her and himself and whoever else may be listening.

“At least I know you,” she offers, smiling genuinely. “Notthe way I maybe once did but, well, I do know you.”

Tears start to burn his eyes, little pinpricks stabbingover and over. He looks away, noticing the patterns in the grey linoleum. “Yeah,”he croaks, not looking but holding, “there’s that.”

She must sense, because she takes her hand away andclaps them both together. “Is there anything else in the bag?”

Surreptitiously he swipes his eyes, coughing beforegetting up to check the bag again. “Eh, I don’t know. Let’s have a look.”

“These things are nice,” she says absently. “They dohelp, in a way.”

“That’s good.” His voice is not all there. He feelsvery far away. All of a sudden as though he’s living a different life, watchinghimself through a screen or crystal ball. The thought of what he’s forgotten,what they’re meant to be thinking of right now, makes him feel small. Now somore than ever, he wants to turn back the clock and make it all undone.

“F-Fitz?” Always cautiously, as though she’s still notquite sure. “Are you alright?” He feels her nervous gaze. “Is there anythingelse in there?”

“Uh… nope.” The small black box with her engagementring sits snugly in the corner of the bag. He folds it over and smiles at her, notquite believing in it. “That’s all for now.”

[spnjediavenger]

White Wolf Chapter 1: Sam and Dean Winchester

Disclaimers: I do not own Supernatural, any of its characters, or dogwood canyon; Creds to Wikipedia for 70% of the grootslang lore i include (yes, it’s a real legend!)

Time frame: set early S5

           A slight lurch awoke Elliana. She sat up in her seat, stretched her arms above her head, and looked out the bus window to see woods all around her. She let out a small smile at the sight, always feeling at home in nature.

           The passengers of the bus began standing to get off and Elliana did the same, grabbing ahold of the leash at her side. She stood, awaking the loyal dog at her feet and, once outside, she walked, with the aid of a map, until she came to a wooden arch held up by stone columns reading ‘Welcome to Paradise. DOGWOOD CANYON NATURE PARK’.

           For a while, she took her time wandering around, taking in the sights, giving her dog a chance to stretch; for the next day, her hunt would begin.

           Once Elliana had a room to stay in the park, she let her dog, Anaya loose in the room and pulled out her laptop and brought up the news stories she found associated to the park. There had been disappearances in the park for the past 2 weeks and there had seemed to be no connection to any of the victims.

           Since it was later, Elliana just went through some basics before going to bed; tomorrow would bring some heavier research.

           On her third day at Dogwood Canyon, Elliana woke up and headed to one of the restaurants located there.  She sat in a corner booth, eating and looking over her notes before she would go out and search the park and its caves for the creature she was hunting. What she didn’t know was that two hunters had arrived that morning and they were currently right across the room.

           Sam and Dean Winchester walked into the building and sat at the bar off to the side.

           “You two hunters?” the bartender asked quietly as he approached the boys.

           They shared a surprised look then nodded.

           “You may be here for nothin’,” he continued. “Word is another hunter is already here.”

           Dean looked at Sam, a skeptical look on his face, and then turned back to the bartender. “Yeah, well even if that’s true, we’re gonna check the place out anyway.” The bartender shrugged and took the guys’ orders, gave it to another worker, and returned to give them drinks.

           Sam and Dean had been looking around, their eyes stopping on Elliana.

           “What’s with the kid in the corner booth?” Dean asked, raising a brow at the bartender.

“Not sure. She’s been here a few days though. Kind of a shadow, that one. Always slippin’ in and out and always writing in that notebook of hers,” he said, cleaning a glass behind the counter.

“And you never talked to her? Asked her anything?” Sam spoke up.

“Tried to. First time, she said she was waiting for someone. Second time, she faked a call. Never got a third try. She started watchin’ me I suppose. ‘Cause any time I went to talk again, she’d disappeared before I could get to her.” Sam and Dean share a look.

“One of my boys got a glimpse of her book the other day though. Had a picture of a banshee on it.”

The guys snapped their heads over to her, eyes wide.

“A banshee?”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

Sam looked at Elliana again, squinting his eyes. “Hey dean – doesn’t that backpack look familiar to you?”

Dean looked closer and his jaw dropped. “Son of a bitch…”

On a previous hunt, Sam and Dean had caught a glimpse of a figure tailing them. They never spoke up; the boys didn’t even notice them until the end of the hunt and the person was a second too late at leaving, allowing the boys to see their backpack only. Their face was covered but they had lost their necklace in fleeing.

Sam pulled out said necklace; he and Dean looked at each other, then got up and walked over to Ellie.

“Go away,” Ellie said before the guys could get a word out.

“We jus-“

“I didn’t ask why you came over here – I told you to leave,” she said shortly.

Dean huffed and grabbed her necklace from Sam’s hand and held it out to her, already starting to get frustrated with her demeanor. “Alright, so I guess this isn’t yours then?”

Her eyes gave a quick, almost non-existent glance, and then she did a double take and shot out of her seat, going to grab it. “Where did you get that?!”

Dean held it up above her head. “Nope, you answer some questions, then you’ll get it back,” he said smugly.

“Give it back, you idiot!” she whisper-yelled, trying to pull his arm down.

Sam picked up on the urgency in her eyes and took the necklace back from Dean, putting it in his jacket pocket to try and prevent a scene from unfolding, then looked back to Elliana.

“Look, we just want to talk-“ Sam started, but was cut off by Elliana.

“Hey!” she yelled at Dean, who was moving to grab her journal. She snatched it out of his reach and punched his arm with more force than he’d expect from someone her age.

“What was that for?!” he yelled back, rubbing his arm.

She quirks a brow and looked over at Sam. “Is he always this stupid or is it just on Mondays?”

Dean gave her a bitch face and Sam couldn’t help but laugh.

Ellie found the tension inside her letting up the slightest bit at that. Something about Sam made her less on guard. More…comfortable. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Can we please talk? You won’t have to share anything you don’t want to. But I think we could help each other. We’re hunters,” Sam said hopefully, offering a small smile.

She glances between him and Dean, finally resting on Sam again.

“Ok,” she sighed. “But your nosy dog stays here,” she reasoned, grabbing her things and putting them in her bag, which she proceeded to sling over her shoulder.

“You little-“

“That’s fine,” Sam interrupted his brother. “He was going to look into some things anyway,” he continued, giving Dean a hard stare, signaling that this wasn’t up for negotiation.

“Unbelievable,” Dean muttered. As he’s about to walk away, a crash was heard from across the bar and Elliana jumped into Sam, grabbing ahold of his coat. He froze for a moment then put a careful hand on her shoulder.

“You ok?” he asked warily.

“Perfect actually,” she said, stepping away from him with a smirk on her face. The guys looked at her, confused. “And here I thought I might have to do something a lot more dramatic to get this back,” she continued proudly, brandishing her necklace. She walked away from the boys, who were frozen, dumbfounded. “And by the way, what I do is none of your business and what you do is none of mine. And I don’t care that you hunt; a lot of people want to hunt here but it’s protected. Now stay away from me.”

(The next morning.)

           Elliana stared down at her wrapped wrist and sighed, ignoring the sting of the gash on her face. How did this happen? she thought.

           Across the room, the Winchesters walked into the restaurant again. They looked around until their eyes locked on Elliana. They went to walk over when Sam grabed Dean’s shoulder.

           “Dude, look at her face,” he said, pointing her way.

           Dean’s face fell a bit and he muttered a ‘crap’ under his breath. Sam nodded his head her way and they approached her. This time, she didn’t reject them right away; she merely sat in silence, staring down at the table.

           “Hey,” Sam spoke gently.

           No response.

           Dean nudges Sam to speak again.

           “What uh…what happened? Are you alright?” he said carefully, worry lines creasing his forehead.

           “Go away,” she finally spoke, though only in a hushed tone.

           “Kid, we can see you’re hurt. Just tell us what happened,” Dean said.

           Nothing again.

           The guys sighed and begrudgingly walked off to the side, away from Elliana.  

           “Alright, she won’t talk. We’re on our own then. Wendigo?” Dean asked Sam.

           “Best guess as any. Let’s grab the torches from the car and start hiking.”

           Just as the guys started walking away, Elliana called out to them. “It’s not a wendigo, you know.”

           The guys turned to face her, surprised. They shared a look and Sam stepped forward.

           “What is it?”

           Elliana let out a light sigh, still not looking at them. “It’s a grootslang.”

           “A what?” Dean said right away, furrowing his brow.

           Elliana finally looked at Sam, who nodded encouragingly. She looked at Dean, then to Sam again and sighed once more. “Come with me,” she said, sliding out of the booth. The guys saw her arm and Dean went to grab her shoulder but she stepped away before he could. He put his hands up defensively.

           “I was just gonna say we should take care of your wounds first; we’re not gonna hurt you.”

           “I can take care of myself-“

           “The cut on your face looks infected; just let me help you clean it out and wrap your arm in something more stable,” Sam reasoned, a caring look on his face.

           “Just follow me,” Elliana said shortly, brushing past the boys. They shared another look then followed her out of the restaurant.

           Elliana led Sam and Dean up into a tree house in the middle of the woods surrounding Dogwood Canyon. The guys looked around as she rummaged through some things under the bed. Anaya came out from the side room, growling at the boys, making each take a step back.

           “Uh…kid? What’s up with the mutt?” Dean said.

           “First off, she’s not a mutt. She’s a Siberian husky. Second, her name is Anaya and she’s mine. Been my hunting partner practically since the beginning. She won’t hurt you unless I say so.”

           “Alright then…You payin’ for this place?” Dean asked.

           “No,” she responded, still on a short fuse. “No one’s going to let a 13 year old check into a place like this by herself. It’s an old tree house – and by the state of it and lack of paths around it, I suspect they haven’t used it for awhile. Found it when I got here a couple days ago.”

           She finally dug out a first aid kit and walked into the small bathroom, leaving the door open.

           “Are you sure you don’t want help?” Sam asked again.

           “Grootslang, or “Grote Slang” in Afrikaans, are cryptids,” Elliana began, ignoring Sam’s offer. Sam sighed but listened to her explanation, running his had through Anaya’s fur when she stepped up to him. “Legend comes out of South Africa. When the gods were still in the beginning stages of making things, they mistakenly gave it a crap load of strength, cunning, and intellect. So, the gods tore ‘em in half to make the first elephants and snakes.”

           Elliana walked out of the bathroom with her wrist properly wrapped and cut cleaned and continued to talk. “But, one of the original grootslang escaped and was rumored to live/hide in a cave and it would lure elephants and snakes into its cave.”

           “Hold on,” Dean interrupted. “You said South Africa. Kinda far don’t you think?”

           Elliana gave him a hard stare. “That original grootslang is said to have spawned all other grootslang to exist and its cave connects to the sea. Eventually, there wasn’t enough food for all of them so they spanned out through the tunnel.”

           “Well I hate to break it to you, kid, but there are no elephants around here. And it’s people dying – not snakes,” Dean said.

           “Look here, Dean – you wanted help, I’m giving it to you. I’m not just some useless kid. And if you would stop interrupting me, you would know that once the grootslang didn’t find enough elephants and snakes to prey upon, which is why they branched so far out – the original wanted to destroy everything its family was torn into – they took to preying on humans that resembled those animals. The victims that have gone missing here are all either heavy – representing elephants, or tall and skinny – representing snakes. Grootslang live in watery caves; the one here is inside the cave across from the restaurant I was in.” Elliana finished with her arms crossed over her chest.

           “So how do we kill it?” Sam spoke up.

           “Sam, do you really think this kid-“

           “Dean, we did ask for her help. And everything she’s said makes sense. She knows her stuff.”

           Elliana did her best to hide her surprise at Sam’s backup.

           “How’d you get hurt?” Dean asked, ignoring Sam.

           “Dude!”

           “You say she knows her stuff, fine. Then how does she get injured so easily?”

           Wham! Elliana’s fist flew across Dean’s face. It nowhere near knocked him out, but it still hurt enough for his own hand to fly up and grab the spot.

           “Son of a bitch!” he said, pulling his hand away to inspect it for blood, which he found a small amount of. “What the hell?!”

           “Yeah, I was following you guys on your last hunt – it was so I could learn more about the supernatural on a case I knew would have been too much for me on my own. I had intel that the surviving grootslang are much smaller than the original since the original had to spawn without a mate. I thought I could handle it but there ended up being two. And I’m sure that that’s happened to even you before.  The only reason I didn’t let you two walk off thinking this was a wendigo was because I knew you would’ve been killed going under the wrong assumption. So I don’t need you in here questioning me because I’m young and telling the great Dean that he was wrong. So if you want to kill this thing, get off your high horse and follow me to the cave.”

           With that, Elliana stormed into the side room to gather her hunting bag, leaving a surprised Dean and Sam, who was going back and forth from curiosity – of what the girl must have been through to make her so rough and defensive, to humor – as he tried to hide his smirk at the fact Dean just got hit by a teenage girl.

             Elliana and the guys stood outside the cave, preparing to go in. After collecting her things, Elliana led the way in quite an uncomfortable silence, still fuming from the way Dean had talked down to her.

           “Ok, so how do we gank these things?” Sam asked her.

           “Gank?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow. Sam simply shrugged so she continued. “Since I don’t know of any hunters encountering these before, I had to try and go off my own judgment. Venom is something that snakes evolved with over time as a defense mechanism, meaning these grootslang would be just as susceptible to its effects as any other animal, supposedly. So,” she reached back into her bag to pull out a jar and a dartgun, “I collected a bunch of snake venom and filled darts with them.”

           “That’s pretty brilliant,” Sam said with a small smile, inspecting the gun.

           “But, that’s the other reason I ended up getting hurt. The venom either isn’t strong enough, or I don’t have enough of it to be affective on a creature this big. It only slows them down for a little while. Knocked one out, the next came at me, and as I was trying to get to a vantage point to shoot it, the first came to. Crushed my arm against the wall with its tusk, the other went to bite me but I was able to pull away in time to get away with just this,” she finished, pointing at the gash on her face.

           “So, the venom only stuns them?”

           “Yes. As far as I know anyway. So, I got some more intel, and from legend, these things coveted gems. Some of their victims could even get away if they paid the grootslang with precious jewels – diamonds being the most sought after. And while my contact has never come across one, he was able to tell me that once the deities found the creatures coveting jewels and not them and that was the final straw. So they cut them up with the jewels they so coveted to make elephants and snakes. So a weapon of diamond,” Elliana pulls a dagger from her bag; “can kill them.”

           “Where the hell’d you get ahold of something like that?” Dean spoke up. Elliana gave him a cold look but answered him.

           “Contact. You have your people, I have mine,” she said simply, thinking back to her exchange with her guardian the night before.

           “Let me heal you,” he said, sad to see his ‘ladybird’ hurt.

           She pushed away his hand and rolled over on the bed. Even Anaya lay somberly next to Ellie, the dog’s head resting on her legs.

           “Look, kid, I know you’re bummed but you didn’t know what would happen. But I know you can do it,” the angel said, giving her a comforting smile.

           Elliana just lay still, making him sigh.

           “I talked to a friend the other day; told me how to kill these guys. Here’s some lore you didn’t find yet,” he said, laying a paper next to her. “The deities carved them into elephants and snakes with diamond daggers. My friend was a bit reluctant to give me one but let’s just say I was convincing,” he finished with a smirk, pulling out a diamond dagger.

He still got no response.

He sighed. “I’ll leave this here for you. Incase you change your mind. Take care, sweet cheeks. Remember Gabe’s always here for you,” he finished, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder before vanishing.

Elliana broke out of her momentary trance and got back to business.

“So here’s what we’re gonna do – I take the blade-“

           “No,” Dean’s gruff voice said.

           “What?” Elliana responded, a challenging look on her face.

           “Maybe it would just be a good idea if you let one of us take it,” Sam interjected, not ready for another match between she and Dean. “You’re already injured; we don’t want it to happen again.”

           Elliana turned to face Sam. “These things hurt me once – they’re not getting the chance again. And I’ve been hunting by myself for over a year now and I’m not gonna let you baby me just because you’re older,” she said, her voice dominant. “You take the dart gun,” she hands the item back to Sam; “And you can take the rest of the venom in this jar and coat one of your weapons in it,” Elliana finishes, tossing the jar to Dean. “You guys can go in first, if you want, and stun them with the venom. But I finish them off.”

           Elliana walks away to let the guys prepare their things and Dean looks at Sam.

           “Great. Now we have to babysit. Freaking 10 year old telling us how to do our job.”

           He didn’t give Sam time to respond before he walked towards the cave entrance with his venom-coated knife.

              The boys entered the cave, Dean groaning about having to go through the water.

           Elliana led them around a few areas until the finally got to the grootslang’s nest near the back. Everyone stilled as splashes were heard. Elliana motioned for the guys to move the opposite direction as she began climbing the rocks along the cave walls.

           Dean rolled his eyes once more and shook his head, still hating this plan, when a large figure came out of hiding. They guys froze at the beast before them; a long, darkly scaled body slid through the shallow water, and by a crack in the ceiling, the light shone on an elephant-like head, trunk running from underneath its chin and razor-sharp teeth filling its mouth. A snake-like tongue shot out as the creature looked around the cave.

           The guys went after the first creature, which towered a few feet taller than them, as Elliana approached the second grootslang, curled up in the back of the cave on the bank of the water. She slunk carefully above it on the rocks, looked over to the guys to make sure they were holding their own, and swiftly jumped down, plunging her diamond blade into the grootslang’s body, just behind the head.

           The guys and even the other grootslang paused at the shriek emitted from the grootslang Elliana stabbed.

           The first, bleeding slightly from Dean slicing it with his knife, slithered as quickly as it could towards Elliana but stopped cold when her blade was thrown strategically into its throat. It, too, let out a cry as it fell to the ground.

           The guys looked from the two dead grootslang to Elliana, unable to hide the shock from their faces.

           Elliana gave Sam a small smile, which turned into a smug one as she looked at Dean.

           “Don’t underestimate me,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she walked forward the grab her blade from the grootslang’s chest.

           “And I’m 13, by the way. Not 10,” she called back as she walked out of the cave.

The following morning, Elliana stopped into the restaurant one more time to get something to eat before hopping on a bus to move again.

To her slight dismay, two figures slid themselves into the seats across from her, eliciting a deep sigh and bowed head from her.

“Look,” Sam chuckled. “I know you’re not our biggest fan but we just wanted to say you did a great job last night,” he smiled at her.

“You really did,” Dean added, making Ellie go wide-eyed as she snapped her head towards him. “Look, I’m sorry I talked down to you, kid. You can probably guess we don’t come across many hunters as young as you. Maybe a part of me was hoping I could get you to quit,” he continued, giving a sad smile.

Elliana did her best to not to give him much of a smile. What he said was nice, but it would take a lot more to get her to be able to trust either brother.

“Thanks. But I don’t think that’s ever gonna happen,” she said, keeping any emotion from her face. “I know enough about hunting to know there is no quitting.”

Dean slightly shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“So, you’re gonna keep moving then?” Sam said.

Ellie nodded, finishing up her food.

“I know you’re going to want to shoot me down right away but hear me out first-“

“’Cause that just makes me eager to listen,” Ellie said sarcastically, adding an eye roll for extra effect.

“I know you won’t quit hunting, and that you’ve been doing it for awhile now, and you’re fully capable of taking care of yourself – but why don’t you come with us for just a few hunts? At least let us see you in action a little more and feel better about leaving you. But it would also give you the chance to get to know us and maybe come with us from now on.”

Sam finishes and Ellie looks between him and Dean, partly wondering if she heard right, and partly wanting to do as Sam had said earlier – shoot him down right away. But something in Ellie couldn’t help trust them a little. Well – Sam anyway.

Ellie sighed and looked over at Dean. “You know Anaya comes too, right? Aren’t you afraid of messing up your precious car?” she smirked. It came out as a joke but she secretly hoped it would make Dean reconsider their offer. Though he only rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, ha ha. I know the dog comes. But if it poops or pees in my baby one time, I’m throwing both of you out on the side of the road,” he points at Ellie accusingly.

Dang it, she thought. Ellie gave a long sigh and looked over to Sam, defeated. “All right. I’ll come with you. But,” she said, catching the victorious smile on his face. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he said, still smiling.

Elliana rolled her eyes. “Let’s hit it, then. I have to grab Anaya.”

“Hold up a sec, kid,” Dean said. “Can you give us your name first? Hell, we haven’t even thought to ask you yet.”

“Elliana. Or Ellie.”

“Ellie…why does your name sound familiar?” Dean said, furrowing a brow.

Elliana furrowed her own brow as she thought about the same thing – and how she couldn’t shake the same feeling when the boys introduced themselves the other night. “I…kind of feel the same way…what’s your last name?!” Ellie’s head shoots up, feeling she had it.

“Winchester,” Sam said, more confused than she or Dean.

Then it clicked.

“Sam and Dean Winchester? Huh, I can’t believe it,” Ellie let out an airy laugh.

The guys share a questioning look.

“How do you know us? Have we met before?” Dean asked.

“Well, I know you, Dean. And we didn’t exactly meet. I called you for help. Elliana Moore.”

“Elliana Moore…Ellie Moore. I do remember now,” Dean points his finger, trying to dig through his memory banks. “Yeah, you called about vamps, right? How’d that go?”

Elliana was flashed to a hazy image of fangs out, the mouth they belong to pointing up to a smirk, hovering close above her face. The vague feeling of fear running though her veins.

“Ellie?” Sam questioned, worry lines crossing his forehead at her dazed look.

“Kid, you alright?”

Elliana snapped out of her daze to meet the boys’ concerned and confused expressions. “What? Yeah…yeah. I’m good. It was good. Let’s go,” she said quickly, confusion filling her mind as well.

She got up and led the way out of the restaurant with Sam and Dean following her, unsure of what happened but not ready to push anything yet. They were at least glad she agreed to go with them; and that was a start.

Chapter 2 ->