#i am Convinced id be six feet under by now if i never left him

[labratboygirl]

head in hands . that fucker has not changed a BITTTTT

[cuquitalocita]

kids and car rides- feysand

AN: hi yes hello there- again, it’s been a hot minute since i’ve written anything so here’s something i’ve been pushing myself through for these past couple of days. this is my first time writing feysand so i’m sorry if this sucks- i have to wake up for school in... five hours... so... yeah. if there’s any typos or the plot is kinda... ?? just... cut me some slack :) anyway, hope you enjoy!

part two

~~

Feyre was going to murder her boyfriend.

No- mutilate was more like it. How and where were truly her only thoughts as she glanced around her at the full bleachers of screaming students covered in black and blue face paint. 

Dating Tamlin Hybern had been nice at first- surreal if anything. When the star lacrosse player had taken an interest in the quiet girl at the back of the class who spent her free time in an art studio, Feyre had been flattered. He had asked her out in between classes a few months ago and Feyre had managed to stutter out a blushing, yes, still reeling that the handsome blonde had even noticed her. 

But her relationship was dull and boring, lacking in color, and gods, Feyre needed to end it. 

Tamlin had dragged her to the football game, practically begging on his knees for her to come with him. Feyre had relented, not even having enough time to shower after her art class before Tamlin was picking her up. But the second they had pulled up to the school and gotten out of his truck, Tamlin had disappeared with Lucien and left her in the bleachers with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek and a promise to find her later. 

It left Feyre seeing red. The crowd raged around her as the Bats scored a touchdown, and Feyre glanced at her phone. Shit. It was seven-thirty, meaning Nesta had already left on her date with Tomas, leaving Feyre without a ride home. Elain was out with her friends, actually enjoying her Friday night as a teenage girl should, and Feyre was left alone and ready to leave. 

She had been at the game for thirty minutes, in which the sun had gone down, blanketing the sky in a twilight full of stars. Feyre would stay if only to watch them a little longer- her favorite thing to paint. But as the crowd raged again, Feyre stood up from her spot on the bleachers and began pushing her way through the crowd and back to the parking lot, ready to walk home. It was only a few miles, really, and she had her sneakers on. She could manage. 

“Feyre!” A kind voice broke through her thoughts before she was halfway through the crowd, and she turned to see the familiar face of Morrigan from French class. 

Feyre’s lips turned up into a smile at the sight of the girl and her racing heart calmed a little as Mor came closer, stopping in front of her. 

“Hey, Mor.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you hated football.” Mor’s question was innocent, lacking the judgemental tone that most people would have added on. 

“I do,” she snorted. “But Tamlin wanted me to come, so here I am.” 

Mor’s smile turned down at the mention of her boyfriend. The girl had never tried to hide her dislike for Feyre’s boyfriend, even if the two of them weren’t very close and although she should have been offended, Feyre relished in her honesty. “Either way, I’m ready to go. See you Monday, Mor.”

“Wait, do you need a ride?” Feyre smiled, shaking her head at her easy kindness. She knew she liked Mor. 

“Thanks, but it’s really fine. I only live a few miles down the road- I’ll be fine to walk. Besides, we’re not even halfway through the game. Stay.” Mor bit her lip, clearly deciding whether or not to pick a fight, but Feyre fixed her with a look that eventually had her sighing. 

“Ugh, fine. But text me when you get home. Who knows what kind of creeps are wandering around here.” Feyre nodded, squeezing Mor’s hands in thanks, and left the bleachers, stopping only when she was back in the student parking lot.  

She pulled out her phone, remembering that she came here with her boyfriend. 

>> Hey wasn’t feeling well. Getting a ride home from Nes. 

It was five minutes before he responded. 

<< sure thing- see you later babe

Feyre scoffed, shoving her phone into her back pocket. Unlike Mor, he had not asked her if she was okay and to text him when she was home safe. She had told him that Nesta had a date too- which he obviously hadn’t been paying attention to. 

Ready to start walking, Feyre patted her pockets, looking for her ID, just in case anything happened, only to find them empty. 

“Godsdamn it,” Feyre muttered under her breath, realizing she must have forgotten her wallet back on the bleachers. Turning back to the field, Feyre almost tripped on her own feet when she heard a little voice behind her say,

“That’s a bad word. And my mommy says you shouldn’t say bad words.”

 Spinning back around, she was surprised to see a little girl- no older than six staring up at her and twisting her little fingers together. Her jet black hair was pulled back into two short ponytails and Feyre swore she was one of the cutest things she had ever seen. Bewildered, Feyre stared for a moment before shaking her head. 

“Uh- yes. You’re right- I… I shouldn’t have said that. And neither should you.” The little girl just continued to look at her in silence, causing Feyre to raise her brows. Who was this girl? And why was she by herself? What kind of parent left a little girl alone at a high school at almost eight o’clock?

“What’s your name? Are you lost?” 

“My mommy says I shouldn’t talk to strangers.” At that, Feyre smiled a little bit. She bent down, putting her weight on her knees so she was eye level with the girl, and mustered up her friendliest smile. 

“That’s very smart of her. Well, how about this?” Feyre stuck her hand out to the girl who eyed it warily but didn’t back away. “My name is Feyre. I go to school here. There, now we aren’t strangers anymore.” 

The girl’s eyes widened and it was then that Feyre noticed their unique color, unlike any she had ever seen before. Her eyes were a beautiful violet, and in the reflection of the moon, she swore she could see stars in her eyes. 

The little girl took her hand, practically dwarfed from the size of Feyre’s, and she gave Feyre a small smile that had her melting just a bit. 

“My name is Thebe,” she finally said, her voice small. 

“Well Thebe, are you lost?” She nodded, looking at the ground. Feyre gently took her small hand, forcing the girl to look at her, and smiled again. She could see small tears beginning to form in the little girl’s eyes. 

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. I’ll help you get back. Who are you here with?” 

“My brother,” she responded, and Feyre clenched her teeth. What kind of brother left his little sister alone? With all the fighting she did with Nesta, Feyre knew her sister would never have left her alone in a public place, let alone at night. Once again, Feyre was seeing red. 

“Okay then. Is he at the football game?” Thebe nodded, and Feyre deduced that she must have snuck off into the crowd, bored with the game. She couldn’t say she blamed her.

Taking the girl’s hand in her own and trying not to sigh when little fingers wrapped and her own, Feyre led the little girl back to the raging football game. 

“Do you think you can show me where you were?” Thebe nodded and gripped her fingers tighter, pulling Feyre through the bleachers, using her as a shield from the crazy teenagers. 

Feyre saw Tamlin through the crowd and quickly averted her gaze, focusing back on the girl in front of her until they came to a stop on one of the bottom bleachers. It was surprisingly empty, other than being filled up with athletic bags and water bottles. 

Feyre frowned, following Thebe as she sat down next to one of the bags and pulled out a small jacket that was clearly her own. 

“Thebe, where is your brother?” It was then that the little girl pointed out to the field. “Your brother is playing?” Thebe nodded, leaning her small head on Feyre’s shoulder, her hair tickling her neck, and Feyre admitted that maybe she could stay at the game a little longer, even if she would eventually have to deal with one of the loathsome jocks. But her blood still boiled at the fact that her brother had left her alone. Gods know what could have happened to her if someone else had found her.

“Why did you let me walk you back?” Feyre wondered aloud. Thebe shrugged. 

“You’re pretty. My brother says you can always trust a girl with pretty brown hair.” Feyre blushed, the compliment warming her to her toes. 

“I think you’re pretty too Thebe,” she whispered. 

It was only then that Feyre realized how cold it had gotten. She shivered, running the free hand that wasn’t around Thebe up her arm, which was barely covered with a paint-stained t-shirt. Thebe only reached into the bag in front of her and pulled out a much larger jacket, one with the familiar school colors. She handed it to Feyre, who quickly realized it was a varsity jacket. 

“This is your brother’s jacket Thebe. I can’t-”

“He would share.” Feyre fixed her with a look which Thebe returned with a more convincing one. “Trust me- he would.” Another shiver ran through her and Feyre, sighed, relenting, and shoved her arms into the jacket, immediately warmed. 

They stayed there for a while, watching the game in silence as Thebe began to doze off on her shoulder. Feyre hid her smile as the bleachers creaked, announcing that another person was coming to sit. She looked up to see Cassian Guerra lifting himself onto the bleachers, a carefree grin on his all-too handsome face. The football player’s hair was pulled up in a bun and Feyre vaguely remembered Nesta saying something about him. She doubted it had been positive. 

Feyre remembered Tamlin mentioning how Cassian had gotten injured and was out for the season. It was cool of him to come and support his team. 

His hazel eyes glanced over the little girl next to him and he grinned. 

“Hey, Thee, I thought you were with Az. New babysitter?” Feyre scowled and the little girl seemed to brighten as she looked at Cassian- then at Feyre. 

“New friend,” was all she said, bringing a smile to both her and Cassian’s faces. It was then that he truly looked at her, and a spark of recognition flashed through his eyes. 

“Hey, you’re-”

Cassian broke off as a buzzer sounded through the stadium and the crowd erupted into cheers. He was grinning at her, and Feyre managed back a small smile as Thebe shoved her head into her shoulder. The crowd began emptying out, and Feyre turned to Cassian, meaning to ask what she should do with the little girl. Not that Feyre was too eager to part from her. But he had vanished, finding somewhere else to be, and Feyre huffed, waking the little girl. 

“Alright, I think it’s time we found your brother.” Feyre got up from the bleachers, taking the little girl down to the field where most of the players were still talking to each other and clanking helmets. “Okay, tell me when you see-”

“Rhysie!” 

Feyre’s heart dropped into her stomach as she realized who the little girl was pointing at. Because not ten feet from her, looking impossibly attractive in a way that shouldn’t be possible after sweating for two hours straight, was the bane of her existence. With his jet black hair and twin eyes to Thebe’s, he looked like a god made man. 

“Your brother is Rhysand Knight?” Feyre practically screeched at the little girl holding her hand. 

Thebe nodded excitedly as Rhysand jogged over to his little sister who had quickly abandoned Feyre’s hand and met him halfway. He scooped her up into his arms easily, the grin on his face much too gorgeous for a high school boy, and Feyre grit her teeth. 

Maybe it was just her, Feyre realized, that had to have some sort of connection with the most popular boys in school while managing to remain in the background herself. Rhysand was the captain of the football team and unsurprisingly, loved by most of the people in the school. If he wasn’t so infuriating, Feyre may have even liked him.

But from debating her points in English class to attempting to speak to her afterward, Rhysand Knight was nothing more than a massive pain in Feyre’s ass. A handsome pain, coincidentally, but Feyre refused to acknowledge that at the moment.

“Hey Thee,” he smiled, placing the girl down. “Enjoy the game?” 

It was only then that he noticed Feyre standing behind his sister. It seemed that widening eyes ran in the family, as Rhysand did the same thing his sister had as he gazed at her. 

“H-hey,” he stuttered, the sound strange coming from his usually smooth lips. “Feyre, right?” 

She awaited the inevitable words that always came after the sentence. Tamlin’s girlfriend, right? 

“From English. With Suriel?” Feyre started in place. So he had remembered her. 

But as Thebe ran up to her and tugged at her hand, Feyre ignored the flipping of her heart in her chest at his nervous smile. Instead, she nodded, her movements jerky and final as she arched an angry brow at him. 

“Did you enjoy the game?” he asked, smiling casually again. Feyre huffed. 

“I would have enjoyed it a lot more if I didn’t have to worry about something happening to your sister. I found her wandering around alone in the parking lot,” she snapped. 

Rhysand frowned, glancing at Thebe quickly before looking back at her, pinning Feyre in place with his gaze. 

“What are you talking about? I left her with Cassian and Azriel. They’re like brothers to her and they were watching her the whole time.” Feyre fixed him with a look that said they clearly weren’t and Rhysand’s gaze turned frustrated as he seemed to realize what had happened. 

He sighed, kneeling down until he was eye level with his sister who seemed to be looking everywhere but at him. The sight brought a small smile to Feyre’s face. 

“What did I say about running off Thee? And what did Mom say about talking to strangers?”

“But she said her name is Feyre, like the one you and Cass and Az talk about all the-” Rhysand cut off his sister’s rambling with a playful hand over her mouth and Feyre could have sworn she saw bits of red dotting his cheeks. She pushed away from the thought of how cute she found it. 

“Alright, I think it’s past your bedtime you little menace.” Thebe narrowed her eyes and bit at her brother’s hand, causing him to leap back with a curse, earning an instinctual laugh from Feyre. 

His gaze snapped to hers, softening at her laughing face, and his own turned into a small grin that sent her heart fluttering. 

Shit Fey, you have a boyfriend. 

Her cheeks colored as she noticed Rhysand’s gaze conspicuously running up and down her body and she realized she still had his jacket on. Feyre cursed under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear as she fumbled for the zipper on his jacket. 

“Sorry, I was freezing. Here-” 

“No!” Rhysand cut her off and the blush returned to his cheeks. “I mean- it- you look- uh, you’re just gonna be cold again. Keep it- for now.” Feyre shook her head, unzipping the jacket and handing it to him.

“I should head home anyway. Good game.” She tried for a friendly smile. She had never given him one. Feyre leaned down until she was eye level with Thebe. 

“Thanks for being my game buddy,” she whispered. Thebe beamed, throwing her arms around Feyre’s neck. She hugged the little girl back and tried not to look at Rhysand, whose gaze she could feel on the two of them. 

“Feyre, do you need a ride? I saw Tamlin leave and didn’t know...” His voice rolled over the words like midnight and Feyre shook her head. 

“Thanks but I really don’t live far-”

“It’s going to start raining soon, and I’m not letting you walk home in the dark. Just take the gesture Feyre.” He sounded exasperated, running a hand through his hair. Her eyes narrowed.

“And what, Rhysand, makes you think I want anything from you?”

“Rhys.”

“What?”

“People call me Rhys. Especially people who let me drive them home from football games.” Feyre shook her head in disbelief. 

“Gods, you’re relentless, aren’t you?”

“It’s one of my best qualities darling,” he smirked. 

And there it was, that insufferable charm that had every girl at school drooling over him. Feyre couldn’t say she blamed them, even if it did slightly annoy her. She finally smiled, reaching over to cover Thebe’s ears with her hands. 

“Only second to being a prick?” 

“If I say yes will you let me take you home?” Feyre rolled her eyes and Rhys’ grin widened, both of them knowing she had long since relented. Rhys handed Feyre his jacket and she grumbled, shoving her arms through.  

“Give me a second to find my wallet, then I’ll meet you at your car.” Rhys practically beamed in triumph, scooping his sister back up in his arms and heading back to the parking lot. Feyre loathed admitting that she watched them until they were out of her line of sight. 

She sighed. It was those damn eyes. It had to be.

And it was because of those eyes that ten minutes later, Feyre sat in the passenger seat of Rhysand Knight’s jet black ford fusion. Thebe was in the back, kicking her feet to the beat of whatever song was playing on the radio- one that Feyre couldn’t hear over the pounding of her own heart, and Feyre eyed the little girl through her side mirror so not as to look at the boy beside her. She was keenly aware of the small amount of space between them.

Rhys drove safely, unsurprisingly through their small town, and Feyre gazed out the window until Rhys cleared his throat. She turned to him. 

“So… how are you liking Bronte so far?” Feyre frowned before realizing that he was talking about the book they were reading in English. The book he had argued with her about to no end. 

“I think you know the answer to that Rhys, considering you make it your business to disagree with me.” Surprisingly, the words held no bite to them, and Rhys smiled without taking his eyes away from the road. 

“Well, darling, if you didn’t make it so easy to disagree with you, maybe I wouldn’t have to.” Feyre gaped at him and it was purely instinctual as she reached over the center console and shoved his shoulder as if they were best friends that did it all the time. Gods, what was she doing? She hated him. Maybe.

But if Rhys was surprised by her actions, he didn’t show it as he let out a laugh. Damn, that sound would be staying with her. 

“Look, I’ll give it to Catherine-”

“If this ends with any Heathcliff support I will jump out of this car Rhysand,” she cut him off, tone deadly serious. 

“No!” Thebe called from the back, causing both of the teens to laugh, catching each other's gazes before Feyre quickly looked away. She couldn’t be more grateful for how dark it was in the car so Rhys couldn’t see the blush attacking her cheeks. 

“So, what brought you to the game tonight? Not that you don’t seem like that type of girl but you… don’t seem like that type of girl.” His chuckle sent goosebumps up her arm even though she was still wearing his jacket. Feyre fidgeted her fingers and gazed down at her lap as she shrugged. 

“Uh, Tamlin asked me to come so… here I am.”

“Here you are… in my car.” Feyre sucked in a breath, glaring at Rhys from the side of her eye. The rivalry between the two athletes was no secret, and Feyre had yet to figure out where it had originated.  

“It’s not like that, Rhys. He thought I left. I had… until I ran into a certain black-haired beauty.” Feyre smiled at the side mirror where she could still see Thebe singing along to the radio. Rhys finally smiled too. 

“That’s fair. I know I can be a lot to look at once.” Feyre shoved him again, both of them laughing, and Feyre questioned when her life had turned so off-kilter. 

“Shut up, prick.” She didn’t joke with Rhysand Knight. She didn’t even talk to Rhysand Knight outside of class. So what in the gods was happening?

“Turn here,” she directed, shoving herself out of her thoughts. Rhys obeyed, moments later pulling up in front of her dark house where clearly none of her sisters were home. They sat there in silence for what seemed like eons. Just… sitting there. 

“Well-”

“I-” 

The two laughed as they cut each other off and Feyre shrugged off Rhys’ jacket, shoving it into the open athletic bag next to Thebe, who grabbed her hand before she could pull back. 

“Are you leaving?” she pouted. Feyre gave her a kind, tired smile, and nodded. 

“Sorry Thebe, it’s past my bedtime. But I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?” The girl nodded excitedly and Feyre almost startled back when she turned to see Rhys looking at her with a strange expression on his face. 

“What?” Rhys shook his head as if erasing the thoughts.

“Nothing… you just… surprise me.” Feyre snorted, ignoring the blush that had risen to her cheeks. 

“Yes, well, my kid whispering does tend to floor men at times.” But Rhys didn’t smile, or say anything in return, leaving Feyre to raise her brows and clear her throat. “So, I guess it’s my turn to head out.” Feyre placed her hand on the door handle before turning back to the boy next to her. “Thank you. For the ride.” 

Finally, Rhys smiled, his eyes betraying something that looked almost like… anxiety. 

“Hey, Feyre?” The car door had just shut behind her when she heard his voice again.

“Hmm?” 

“Would you want to…” Rhys scratched at the back of his neck and Feyre arched a brow. 

“Would I want to…?”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “Go over art notes sometime?” Feyre frowned, fully turning back around and crossing her arms in front of her body to shield herself from the night chill.

“I didn’t know you were in art.”

“Yeah uh- new class.” Feyre nodded, tapping her foot on the ground as she stared him down. Rhys stared right back, clearly unsure of what her answer could be. And she couldn’t help it as a small smile graced her face. 

“I’ll think about it,” was all she said. “Goodnight, Rhysie.” 

Feyre laughed at the sound of Rhys banging his head on the steering wheel and approached her house once more, using her phone flashlight to find the spare key Nesta had hidden somewhere. It was for that reason that she was still outside when Thebe’s little voice spoke to her brother. 

“I like her hair. With the colors. She looks like a princess.” A frown graced Feyre’s lips once more as she subtly inspected a strand of her hair, wondering what the child was talking about. Sure enough, the strands crunched under her fingertips and Feyre had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming in embarrassment.

Of course, Feyre had forgone taking a shower before going to the game. And of course, she had been using her last period of the day as a free period in the art studio. And of course, she had mistakenly dyed her hair with acrylic paint that she had now kept while being in a car relatively alone, with one of the most attractive boys in school. Not that she cared about that, of course. 

Cheeks burning, Feyre finally found the key and rushed into her empty home, wishing for nothing more than a black hole to swallow her whole in her embarrassment. 

But if only Feyre had waited; had paused for more than a moment or tried to hear over the raging sea of emotions inside of her head, she would have heard Rhys’ dazed voice speaking words she wouldn’t even conjure up in a dream. 

“Yeah. Yeah, she does.”

~~

hope you liked it :)

[justkeeptrekkin]

Hi M anon!! I’m so sorry this took me so long. I’ve played around with the idea a bit, hope you don’t mind. Tagging @a-shipping-life who requested something similar. Enjoy!!

***

“This is....”

Crowley’s voice trails off as he views his surroundings. When he’d imagined post-armageddon, he had always thought of fire and brimstone. Or, depending on how the war ended, sickening rounds of celestial harmonies, on repeat- listening to it all from behind bars in a pit. Instead, three years into the Third Testament, the New Era, the Age of Satan’s Spawn, and Crowley’s attending children’s birthday parties. Apparently.

The back garden of the Young family household is perfect for a party- according to Azirphale. A nice little closed off area, with some nice bunting and nice cake and a nice view of the Cotswolds rolling in the distance. Kids and family friends, together, having a nice time. All a bit too nice for Crowley’s taste, who’d preferred the bratty parties Warlock’d had, with nasty children and inappropriately dangerous presents (Nanny Ashtoreth had been the one to anonymously give Warlock a bow and arrow set).

Crowley takes his stand beside Aziraphale, wincing at the ensuing fourteenth birthday party. He needs a shot of insulin with how sweet this event is. He eventually manages: “This is. Ugh.”

“It is not ugh,” Aziraphale tuts, rolls his eyes. “Birthdays are nice.”

“Exactly. Nice is ugh.”

Aziraphale casts him a reprimanding glance, but a smile is pulling at the corners of his lips. He looks Crowley up and down judgmentally and passes him a plastic cup. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Punch.”

“I’m assuming not the alcoholic variety.”

“It’s a fourteenth birthday party, Crowley.”

“What? The Youngs could be more progressive than you think. What harm did a bit of vodka do a teenager. Do teenagers not drink nowadays? I find it hard to keep track.”

“Not till his sixteenth,” Aziraphale says. Eyes scanning the party with as much wariness as Crowley’s had. Adults eating cake from paper plates, teenagers sitting on the grass and sulking at how lame this is.

“I can- I can almost guarantee that lot will have had a cheeky WKD before sixteen,” Crowley mutters into the plastic cup of punch.

Their gazes find The Them, who are sat on the garden bench and on the grass, conspiring amongst themselves. And Crowley thinks that whilst a couple of them aren’t really that badly behaved, Adam has a mischievous streak about him, and the others follow suit. The Youngs are probably struggling to keep up with their teenage son. But then, better the little devil use his powers to make a fake ID to grab a six pack of Strongbow from the corner shop, than to destroy the world.

Just as he’s considering this, the four of them look up at Aziraphale and Crowley. As if they’ve been talking about them.

Crowley sighs, peering at them over the rim of his glasses. “Yep. That lot are trouble makers.”

“It- are they talking about us?”

“Looks like.”

Aziraphale pouts his lips. “Teenagers.”

For a moment, they simply stand at the periphery of the party and survey. Newt and Anathema are here, who they could probably hold some awkward conversation with (“So… world didn’t end then.” “Apparently.”), however, they’re currently occupied by some of the guests from the village. And there’s a lot of other people who’ve been invited by Mr and Mrs Young who seem to be here for their benefit rather than Adam’s.

“Why are we here again?” Crowley whines.

“Because we’re his godparents.”

Crowley wrinkles his nose, peers down at the red juice that’s calling itself punch and doesn’t have nearly enough rum in it. “Not officially.”

“You were the one who assigned us that term, remember?” Aziraphale prompts.

“Suppose.” Then, because he’s feeling brave. And he gets these bouts of bravery when he’s in Tadfield. “How’s about after this we find the nearest pub and pissed. You can crash at mine afterwards.”

There’s a moment when he looks like he’s going to argue, twisting his lips primly and casting fleeting glances at Crowley. All coy. Crowley loves every daft bit of him. “Yes. That does sound good.”

“We can wash down the niceness of this pa- uh-oh. Here they come.”

Aziraphale picks up the slice of cake that he’d laid on the table behind him. A forkful hovering just in front of his mouth. “Sorry?”

“Teenagers, twelve o’clock.”

Aziraphale reluctantly lowers the fork, puts it down on the paper plate and surveys The Approaching Them. Adam at the front. And then the others disperse- going inside to do something more interesting, Crowley supposes. Now, with just Adam, it feels less like they’re about to be ambushed. The boy looks at them with that quietly expectant look he has, and has had since he was eleven when they first met. Though he’s a few inches taller than he used to be.

Dog trots by Adam’s side, and looks up at Aziraphale, pleading silently. Aziraphale brings the plate of cake closer to his chest and narrows his eyes at Dog.

“Thanks for coming,” Adam says, though he doesn’t look massively excited.

“Are you having a nice time?” Aziraphale asks pleasantly.

Adam shrugs. “Not really. Mum and dad invited all their friends and none of mine. Apart from you two, and Anathema and Newt. And obviously Pepper and people. It would be a lot nicer if there weren’t all these annoying old people, too.”

Crowley nods in grim understanding, curls his lips in disregard for said old people.

“Oh,” is Aziraphale’s reply. Then, smile wavering, “Well, it’s nice to see at least that there are people here who care about you, no?”

“They don’t even really know me,” Adam shrugs. “They aren’t here for my birthday. They’re here for the free cake and to boast about their lovely little middle class lives. It’s the perfect opportunity for bourgeoisie posturing under the guise of a birthday party- it’s actually really shallow.”

So this is teenaged Adam. And no less, Adam as a teenager being influenced by Anathema. Aziraphale looks a bit lost for words, but Crowley’s grinning like a loon.

“Well said,” he drawls through his smirk. “Any good presents?”

“Got a Nintendo Switch.”

“Very good,” Crowley replies seriously.

“Anyway,” Adam sighs, “The others have gone inside to find lactose free snacks. I should go help.Brian’s lactose intolerant now.”

“Oh, what a shame,” Aziraphale says sincerely.

“See you later.”

Adam traipses inside, and Dog follows chirpily. Aziraphale and Crowley watch them disappear.

“He’s going to be…” Aziraphale shakes his head, exhales through pursed lips.

“Ball-buster, that one.”

“Yes.”

Some very nondescript music plays distantly. It looks as if Mr Young is attempting to hook up his phone to bluetooth speakers and is struggling, crouching on all fours to inspect the wiring. There isn’t any wiring, is the problem. It’s a wireless speaker system. But that doesn’t seem to have occurred to Mr Young- bum in the air and face buried in Apple technology.

“Oh- oh bother. Why am I like this?”

Crowley turns to see Aziraphale has dropped cake down his waistcoat. He’s holding out the offending plate of cake and frowning at the mess- multi-coloured frosting and sprinkles everywhere. Dog is absolutely delighted, eating the scraps by Aziraphale’s feet.

Aziraphale gives Crowley his sad, cherub eyes. Crowley looks back, pouts his bottom lip. Oh, diddums.

“Would you…?” Aziraphale asks. Looking at him through his lashes.

He gives it a long moment- gives Aziraphale a few seconds to enjoy himself, gives Aziraphale the impression that he needs to work to convince Crowley. He doesn’t.

Crowley snaps his fingers, cake gone. More than that, he turns to fetch him another slice.

And he makes that little flustered smile. The one that makes Crowley putty in his stupid angelic hands. “Oh, thank you.”

“Alright, alright,” Crowley waves a dismissive hand over his shoulder as he goes to get more cake.

There’s the cake- half of it left, at least eight slices. There’s the stack of paper plates. He looks up- no one around. He takes a slice as quickly as he can, not wanting to be cornered by any of the horrifically boring guests.

Then:

“Can I ask you a question?”

Crowley spins round to find Adam. Oh, that’s fine. Adam’s not a boring octogenarian. “Questions? Love questions. Shoot.”

“None of the others believe me,” Adam starts, hands in his pockets, expression as cool and collected as ever. “I’m pretty convinced, but it seems rude to tell them I know when I haven’t even asked.”

“Asked what?”

He’s busying himself with cutting a slice of cake, paying attention but not feeling the need to give Adam his undivided attention. That is until:

“You two are married. Aren’t you?”

A perfect slice of cake had been balanced on the knife in Crowley’s hand. And then Adam had said that. So now, he’s got a perfect slice of cake splattered all over the table. And Adam’s got a speechless demon, steaming from the ears. Literally, steaming from the ears.

“Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-”

“So,” Adam’s eyes widen a little, and he nods slowly. “You’re… not. Married.”

“I’m- you’re- what? Who- why’re- listen,” he says, pointing a paper plate at the son of Satan, “You have no- what did- did he? Where did-”

This could take forever, and they both know it. Crowley’s mouth is a broken record. His brain has disconnected itself entirely from the rest of his body. For a demon who can speak multiple languages, who can speak tongues, he can’t for the life of him speak any of them well. Thus, Adam makes the executive decision of saving him from this never-ending, hellish loop of inarticulacy.

“Sorry for making it weird,” he says, not looking that sorry, “The two of you are just so obviously in love, I figured you guys were married. And gay marriage was only legalised recently, cause, like, homophobia and stuff. So I figured that you didn’t have rings because- are you OK? There’s smoke.”

“What?”

“There’s smoke. Coming from your head.”

Right, so he’s progressed straight from steaming from the ears to smoking. Fantastic, perfect, excellent. It’s probably from the speed that his thoughts are spinning; his brain going so fast, so out of control that it’s generated enough mental friction to cause a fire. Thoughts like-

-me and Aziraphale married a wedding what would we wear where would we live would we live together perhaps we’d have a garden and I could cook for him and he could knit me socks like the socks he gave me for Christmas two years ago and oh holy fuck is it that obvious that I love him does he realise does Aziraphale know does he love me back he loves me he loves me not he loves me he loves me not he loves me-

-OK, he can smell the smoke now. Just wonderful.

Then, from across the garden, Crowley hears Aziraphale exclaim: “Married?”

Pepper is staring at him like he’s an idiot. Aziraphale’s staring back at her like he’s gone catatonic. Holding an empty paper plate. Mouth hanging open. Eyes widening slowly, like the THX theme music should be playing in the background.

And then Aziraphale’s head snaps round to look at Crowley. Looking, as far as he can tell, absolutely mortified.

Crowley stares back.

Adam stares.

Pepper stares.

Crowley puts down the cake knife and takes a deep, nerve-steadying breath. Because whilst the world hadn’t really ended three years ago, it feels a bit like it has now.

Time to face the music, he thinks.

***

Part two possibly will be written if people want one...

[space-blue]

The Dreamcaster

Bit of a filthy love letter to Inception.

I saw the trap the moment I stepped into the parlour.

The goons stood out like warts on a Courtesan's smooth backside. Such glaring display was surely bait, inviting nervous people to lose their cool and turn around.

I walked past with the carefree gait and flowing robes of a rich patron. I didn't let my gaze linger on them, the man I played tonight would be too righteous to care. I reached the counter and asked to join the public session, two hours worth of Dream. I gave my fake name and ID, paid in cash. The men didn't react to me but that guaranteed nothing, so I started a mental list of potential enemies. I knew of five serious ones, six, if counting personal vendettas. I reviewed grudges in order of threat and seriousness as the young hostess showed the way to a lounge-room.

I wondered if it could be Hamsworth keeping tabs on me. I was months behind the man's deadline. I love deadlines, especially the noise they make as they fly by.

The goons could be some of my target's henchmen, left in the lobby while their master drooled in some drug infused paradise, but that would be an unexplainable change of attitude. After all, my target kept his Dream addiction so secret that he always moved alone and disguised himself a lot more than I ever care to and I'm the outlaw.

I am a Dreamcaster. One plagued with a busy body and mind.

I could never settle for the easy life of a parlour, making up worlds for anxious patrons to play in, managing them down rosy plots to ludicrous, fulfilling ends that would leave sweet submemories to mend their broken souls. Humdrum, wretched work! I strive on challenges. I cast like no one else: I can fake true life, give a taste to sounds, I can imagine colours that don't exist. I can take a Dreamer by the hand and have him walk me through his mind-palace with pride and honour. Which is, incidentally, one of the many aspects that make me a criminal, and the very task I was paid to execute tonight.

The hostess opened the door of a small, cushioned room. She smiled as she handed me a tray with needles, plastic straps and a little piece of disinfecting gauze. She left to fetch a vial of this session's Dream. No prattle, no explanations. No need for them: my arms were already out of my sleeves, both covered with the black tattoos that ran along the veins of professionals and junkies alike.

I wasn't done disinfecting myself when the door opened again.

'That was fast.'

The laugh that answered was manly. I didn't make it to my feet before other manly things crashed against me and pined me to the cushions. Four men loomed above, three holding me and one flicking at the glass of a syringe with a smile, all strangers. They had the rough faces of long-time mercenaries.

'I can inject myself, thanks,' I said, dripping sarcasm and not quite breaking character yet.

The fourth man laughed again and bent down to where his colleague held my right arm in a lock.

'I very much doubt you would.'

Then I saw the syringe properly. Its long needle dripped black. My whole body broke in a sweat.

'Oh no, no, no, you can't! Fuck, mate, you can't! Not Nightmare! Why?!'

The man plunged the needle in the dark maze of my tattooed veins. I shrieked, giving it all I had while the black sludge sank into me.

'You've been a bad man Mr Kureno,' the man said.

'Well, what the fuck does that make you mate?!'

'I'm only a delivery man. You should be grateful, now you'll be sleeping too tight to feel the trip.'

'To where? To whom?'

Darkness choked my thoughts before he could answer.

I started awake, panting, sweat plastering my hair to my skull. I was home, sitting in my bed, jumped halfway out of my kimono, sheets rumpled around my legs. Nightmares of thugs putting me under Nightmare? Next level shit. Probably a stray natural dream.

'Kure?'

I perked up. It was my mother calling me.

'Kureno?'

I froze. Yes. It was my mother. My ten-years-dead mother, coming up the stairs of a house I had burned down myself the day she'd died.

I looked at the crook of my arm and saw some gauze covering the vein the villains had pricked in that nightmare. I reached for it and started to pull. The skin came out with the gauze, flesh sloughing off my arm.

A false awakening! These men had really put me under to take me somewhere! In a second I was on my feet, dread pushing my stomach up my throat. I reached inwards, using the mental cues to access old memories.

I was trained in Nightmare, more than most too, but that meant nothing. With Nightmare, you had the stuff five times in your life and you were a veteran! I have thousands of hours of work on Dream, my brain grew on the drug, developed my reflexes for it. Nightmare stimulates different networks, it warps your subconscious perceptions, reverses the laws of the whole game. It would play my own habits against me.

I squatted, gathering myself for the push that ought to get me flying. Instead the air turned to thick jelly against my body, gravity pressing me to the floor.

Typical Nightmare dynamics.

'Kureno?'

My mother opened the door. She looked at me with empty eye-sockets, her twisted mouth pulled taunt against white jaw bones.

'What is it child,' she asked, reaching for my face, 'why won't you come down?'

I made to step back, my feet dragging, her hand just as slowly brushing past me, a battle in slow-motion.

'You're dead you know?' I said to my mother's dried, charred face. 'I burnt the house to the ground with you in it. That's why you're here. No matter how right it was to do, it's still the stuff of nightmare, these memories.'

With some effort I cleared my mind to trigger a new iteration. The nightmare reset itself, and as my old house and dead mother disappeared, I fell.

I tore through the air, an upside down townscape blurring in my sight. The sensation of falling was so vivid I cried in panic. None of my probes shaped the world as they should. I was in true free fall.

'Hey!'

I twisted around to find a man falling with me. Tall, lanky, with short, jet black hair over green eyes, my spitting image without any tattoos: my twin brother, Koharu. His aura however did not match his body. It was, and wasn't my brother. Such misplacement is common in natural dreams, and it felt aweful.

'Kureno,' my brother's image called, coming down on a level with me, 'grab my hand!'

'Fuck off.'

'Kureno, you'll die if you don't!'

I flipped over, feet down to the abyss of the sky, arms catching the wind, the crazy shapes of the world swirling out of reach.

'It's a Nightmare. Dying would just start a new iteration!'

'The ground is coming up,' he yelled, horror in his voice. It was. Somehow the sky had become a solid thing. Koharu caught my loose kimono, and I grabbed for his hand to pull him close.

It broke.

Shattered at the wrist like a twig, a flawed porcelain handled too rough. We stared at each other, stupefied, swallowed by the certainty of our death.

Reality hit me like a ton of brick.

I was on all fours, retching. Waking isn't like in movies, when you're never sure if you aren't still dreaming. Puking your guts out while awake never feels dreamy enough for such doubts. Koharu's hand was on my back, holding me while I gathered my wits. We were in a corner of his lab. I remembered now, my twin injecting me with his latest batch of so-called "innovation". We often work together. He's the smart one, I'm the artist.

'How much are you paying me to trial that black crap again?' I asked, wiping my face with a trembling hand.

'We'll discuss a raise once you've spat your analyses. Out with it, I want it fresh!'

'First iteration was incredible convincing. Instinctual theme, solid narrative structure, I was working a Tour-type Dreamcast. Paranoia heavy, but lowered wariness.' I detailed the attack, the subsequent false awakening, the free-fall, reviewed my feelings and sensations. 'If I hadn't woken up in our old house I might not have realised I was on Nightmare at all. Mother was there.'

We exchanged glassy looks.

'I could reset the iteration,' I went on, 'but other commands were completely ineffective. Whatever you're planning to do with this new variant, it will throw off anyone, trained or not.'

'Kureno,' he said, smirking at me with my very own favourite grin, 'this new Nightmare will throw off the whole world.'

~~ March 2016 – Nightmares

[anonthenullifier]

Celestial Bodies

Chapter 25 of Celestial Bodies

Chapter summary: Being an Avenger means putting aside personal matters for the greater good, except Wanda and Vision never imagined this would mean missing their wedding. (8.2k words).

Happy Scarlet Vision Appreciation Day everyone! I hope you enjoy this unapologetic fluff fest.

AN: If you have not read any of my Celestial Bodies series, that’s fine, the only chapter you might want to skim before reading this is Chapter 1 because the theme of that chapter is a motif in this chapter. 

Wanda’s lungs heave in as she crests what seemed an unassuming hill, but the joy of increased gravity means it felt more like a mountain. In all her life, she’d never really thought what it would be like to walk an alien world, never imagined it would feel like rainy days when the mud sucks her boots down and every stride becomes a small battle with nature. Other than her thighs aching from a measly hill, the world around her seems oddly non-alien, mostly. The setting sun creates streaks of amaranth and clementine, silver specks flicker behind wispy clouds, and even the ground is wrapped snugly in a blanket of small, mustard colored flowers like the rocky slopes outside of Novi Grad. Except Sokovia never had four moons and never shined like stained glass under the sun. Minus those small details, she can almost imagine they are back on Earth.

One bit of normalcy that contributes to this feeling is the sight before her, Vision staring silently across the still waters of a little pond, mind, no doubt, ticking through every negative event from the day. Not that she blames him, her own mood soured about ten minutes after waking up to find Tony waiting at the breakfast table next to Vision, a manic grin on the billionaire’s face and a handful of shredded paper that he tossed into the air with a Congratulations! once she sat down. Thankfully Tony had already established his…eccentricity with the Guardians who didn’t seem fazed by the action (well other than Mantis excitedly clapping at the confetti display), even if her own team all became intensely interested in the cardboard-esque food on their plates. 

Wanda sucks in a few more breaths before descending, calves screaming with each step while her mind unhelpfully reminds her that this isn’t the walk she was supposed to be making towards Vision today. About halfway down the hill, he gets on his knees, shoulders slouching forward as he stares deeper into the water. Wanda frowns, feet moving a bit faster to close the distance, understanding he is now transitioning into level 3 brooding. “Vizh…” 

She says his name approximately five steps before she reaches him and yet it takes another agonizing three seconds after she’s at his side before he acknowledges her. “Hello.” Despite greeting her, his attention is focused on the steady scooping and pouring of water over his arm, each splash followed by a wince. 

Wanda kneels next to him, hand dipping under his cape and rubbing up along his spine. “Can I see it?” Wordlessly he shows her his right arm, four punctured lines running down it with a sickly green slime clinging to the raised edges of the injury. “That’s gross.” 

“Yes, it is,” disgust hangs heavy in the words, which is surprising given not much bothers him (at least physical things like monsters or biological organisms, the bigotry and hatred of people disgusts him daily). “I never wish to do that again.” 

“I thought Nebula was going to do it, since her arm’s not, well...” Wanda doesn’t know how to finish the statement so she leaves it hanging, finding the woman in question a terrifying and unsettling mystery even if Vision assures her that the she’s not an immediate danger.   

Thankfully he effortlessly picks up her thought. “Last night Rocket tested our durability and tactile sensitivity in a carefully constructed simulation.” The way he phrases it makes it sound like one of Stark’s grand technological courses back at the compound, not like the three-foot-high pile of wires, pillows, a couple of blankets, half of the eating utensils, and a soup bowl corroding by the second, that was actually used. “Nebula and myself had similar bodily responses to the acid mixture.” Wanda stares at his arm trying to figure out if they also anticipated the rows of teeth inside the creature strong enough to cut vibranium or if that was an unpleasant surprise for Vision. Based on available evidence, she’s going with the latter. “But when it came to our tactile abilities, I was much better at detecting subtle changes in texture which meant I would be more capable of locating the switch.” 

This is partially true and likely what he wants to use to convince himself that he was the right choice, except she was sitting nearby when she heard them going over the rules of asteroid, paper, blaster. “And I’m sure it had nothing to do with losing their game.” 

Vision’s lips curve slightly as he washes his arm again, “They cheated.” 

“Still counts as losing.” 

The teasing is supposed to cut the tension between them, not increase it with his leaden, “I suppose.” 

Wanda sits back on her heels and watches him continue to rinse his wound, each hypnotic splash chipping away at the remnants of their partially failed mission.  It’s been a long, strenuous week, and today was a mixed bag of success, on the one hand they finally disabled the entrance (or what Rocket lovingly referred to as a semi-sentient trapdoor of doom) to where the artifact is kept, a task they’d failed at for days and ended up having to use their last-ditch strategy of an unlucky person (i.e. Vision) shoving his hand into the creature in search of the switch for the door. On the other hand, inside the door they came across yet another deadly puzzle to solve and ominous warnings of an ember eyed demon, which was nowhere in their intel. This new development required them to call off the rest of the plan and regroup tonight for further strategizing.    

“Do you, um…” Vision tenses at the questioning slant of her words and it compounds what’s been bothering her this whole damn mission, because since unexpectedly blasting off into space, the air between them has been heavy, an unacknowledged perturbation forming that they silently deemed a concern best left to discuss after the mission. Which isn’t the healthiest tactic, but Vision tends to believe in compartmentalizing personal issues away from Avenger directives for the sake of focus. They’ve done pretty well, pretending like nothing's wrong, but after this morning with Tony and yet another day tacked on to their trip, and especially due to the way every conversation has started to feel like walking over eggshells that surround a slumbering interdimensional demon, Wanda has had enough. “Can we please just talk about—” 

“I have already apologized to Mr. Stark for my loss of temper.” 

“I know.” When Vision says a loss of temper, what might come to mind for people unacquainted with him is a blast from the Mindstone or a punch so hard it shatters a wall. What actually happened was a very terse, Tony, be quiet. No one other than herself and maybe Natasha even realized the depths of seething annoyance sewed into those three words, but it was right as he snapped, right as he took away focus from maintaining the right density, that Vision also gasped in pain at the plant-like creature biting down on his arm. None of that is actually what she wants to talk about, however. “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

Wanda leaves the rest silent, fully aware of how the weight she gave her words will settle onto his shoulders, cocooning him in a guilt that needs no prodding other than a few more seconds of empathetic quiet. “It is just,” he sits back on his heels, hands coming to rest on his knees, and stares out at the twisted trunks of the piebald trees around them, “Even though I do not regret being present to help save the universe,” something she agrees with, “I also was very much looking forward to, well,” he shrugs, trying to act as if what’s he admitting is some sort of childish wish, “our wedding.” 

Wanda scoots a few inches to help close the gap between them so she can lay a kiss to his temple. “Me too.” Finally, for the first time since leaving the compound, they’ve acknowledged the elephant stampeding around them. Today was supposed to be spent in New York City in a venue that was too big and too fancy for them, committing to spend the rest of their lives together. Instead she spent four hours holding up a scarlet shield to keep the onslaught of rabid, insanely powerful six legged monstrosities at bay while her fiancé had his arm shoved down the throat of a thing that looked like a venus fly trap had a drunken one night stand with a blobfish. “You know, I figured something weird would happen today because weird is kind of our thing, but I wasn’t expecting our day to go like this.” 

“I concur. Though I will admit,” Vision’s arm wraps around her shoulders, holding her tight to his side, “it was very charitable that the semi-sentient trapdoor of doom was thrown in for free since the colored napkins were extra.” 

A full-bodied laugh rushes out of her body, delighted at the sardonic thoughts he rarely shows to anyone but her. “I’m sure if we had wanted the fully sentient model it would have been like three hundred more.” 

“Oh, most assuredly.” Wedding planning, they discovered very early on, is a gaping jawed monster with an endless pit for a stomach.  It drove Vision crazy, nearly as much as dealing with the county clerk’s almost eight-month long refusal to recognize his birth certificate for their marriage license. Vision’s tone sashays away from sarcasm and back towards despondency. “I am certain the fee for having to reschedule will be exorbitant.” 

“Probably.” Which should make her angry right now, not so much the charge, though it is ridiculous, but she should be in a rage at how long the mission is taking and how aggravating it is that all they do is squabble over who has a slightly better idea instead of deciding on a path and fleshing out the plan. When they left, the possibility of missing their wedding wasn’t even a blip on her radar of concern. When the universe needs to be saved, you go and save it. Which doesn’t erase how very very much she wanted to get married today...but even if they were to go back in time, knowing all they know now, she still would have gotten on the Milano because she’s an Avenger and Avengers don’t put their personal lives first. Perhaps she should feel guilty about it, but she doesn’t, which kind of makes her feel guilty. “Vizh?” 

“Yes?”

“Would you have rather have dealt with the trapdoor of doom or paparazzi today?” 

The scrunch of his face betrays his indecision and it instantly feels like absolution of her own sinful thoughts. “I believe I would rather have dealt with the trapdoor,” quickly he qualifies his decision, “for the sake of the universe.” 

“The universe is pretty important.” 

“Very much.” Vision pauses, lungs half full and mouth still open, his mind abuzz against the shallow link she has with him, and whatever it is he’s considering vibrates the air around them, prickling against her skin and sending her heart into a slightly faster tempo. “You know, I have been thinking that, um, since we likely will not have the Orensanz again for some time,” the refurbished synagogue Stark found for them touts a wait list of up to 3 years and they were told, about a million times, that they only got the date they did because the sheer celebrity of their wedding would mean an even longer waitlist in the future. They were also informed this cutting in line was a one time exception. “Perhaps when we return we just do something small?” 

The suggestion latches to the corners of her mouth, his words floating up and bringing a smile to her face. “You mean like the wedding we actually wanted?” 

A playful defensiveness weaves through his response, “If today had gone differently, I would have been thrilled to vow my life to you in front of two hundred and fifty of our closest friends.” 

“You forgot about the seventy-five person wait list and the fifty press members.” 

“Yes, and the protestors.” After Tony published an announcement of their wedding, they were alerted to an online movement to picket outside the venue. “I checked the news earlier, the protest still happened.” 

Of course it did. “Any good signs?” 

His eyes grow distant, no doubt sweeping through the news for pictures, “Nothing truly imaginative, which is on par for this group,” now the disgust is back and she feels like it should be a lot more pronounced than it is, “one sign did purport that Asimov is rolling in his grave, but I believe this may be a fundamental misunderstanding of Asimov’s work.” 

Wanda decides to move back to a better topic, never knowing where Vision’s mind will descend when discussing the laws of robotics. “So, what are you thinking for this small wedding?” They’ve discussed it already, both at the onset of their engagement and throughout the planning process, always late at night once Tony had left, Vision’s voice growing more wistful the further Tony pulled them away from an intimate ceremony, claiming the first Avenger wedding had to be a big ordeal, but she never gets tired of hearing him walk her through it. 

Vision straightens his back, his hand remaining on her shoulders to hold her steady as he moves off of his knees to sit on the spongy moss, an action she mimics, enjoying the feel of his muscles on her back when he cuddles her to his side once again. “I believe our backyard would be best,” with a flick of her finger, Wanda inserts herself into his mind, grinning at the image he constructs to go along with his words,  “the chuppah can be placed on the east side of the lawn,” the four posts rise in the center of his thoughts and then their handcrafted cloth envelops the structure, “we could string lanterns around the perimeter,” twinkly ones he saw on a backyard renovation show, “we will need to wait until dusk when the stars come out, and there should be just enough space for our teammates, Helen, and the Bartons.” The white folding chairs plop into their still growing grass, and though she doesn’t count, she knows he has the right number. 

“You should probably finish putting up the fence first.” 

“Yes,” a white paneled fence with decorative lattice work on top (that matches their pergola) pops up in his mental picture, “privacy would be of utmost importance. The ceremony would be unchanged,” the only thing Tony left up to them in the planning, though that control was not ceded quietly, a threat of scarlet and Vision’s best disappointed stare the only reason Stark backed off, “and I believe the reception would just be an evening with friends. We would, for the sake of public opinion, and Mr. Stark’s pride, hold a larger reception at some point.” 

It’s what he’s always daydreamed about, what she has as well, and it’s part of why she’s not completely overwhelmed with disappointment that today went the way it did, even if she would rather be his wife right now. “That sounds perfect.” 

“You two ever coming back?” Sam’s voice in her ear fractures the contentment of the moment. “Steve wants to get strategizing.” 

Another click from the comms and Starlord’s grating voice comes through making sure that any enjoyment that remained is decimated by his puerile addition, “Yeah, tongues back in your own mouths.” 

“Shut up, Quill.” Now Rocket joins in and Wanda rolls her eyes at Vision who sends her a commiserate nod. “You didn’t even realize those two were a thing until an hour ago when we told you.” 

Defensiveness seems to be a second skin to Starlord, one he pulls particularly snug around Tony and Thor, though clearly his own teammates know how to get to him. “How am I supposed to be in the know about everyone’s dating life?” 

Nebula flatly counters back, “They make out everywhere,” which isn’t true, “you’re just oblivious, as usual.” Which probably is true, based on the week Wanda’s known the man. 

“Yes,” Mantis’ voice is always gentle and optimistic, brimming with enthusiasm that is infectious even while contributing to ruining a nice moment with Vision, “last night they were on top of the ship.” They were, but they were just trying to find some peace and quiet, something Wanda shouldn’t have to feel defensive about. 

“And at the table,” this is proudly added by Drax, “they didn’t notice me standing in the corner.” They did, which is why they moved to the roof of the ship. 

Sam hits his comm a bit early, allowing the sounds of rustling and background chatter to come through, “Welcome to living with those two.” It’s a comment that from the likes of Stark would be derisive, but from Sam is good natured albeit it still makes her a little self-conscious. 

Natasha, a consummate professional, wrestles control back of the comm system, something she and Steve have struggled to do with the increased lines in use. “Can you two please come back?” 

“We will return momentarily.” 

Nat’s “Thanks, Vision,” seems cheerier than usual, likely from the victory of stemming a conversation on the brink of being out of control.

The line finally returns to the light static of dormancy. Vision untangles from their embrace, standing up with a reluctant sigh, his arm extended and palm up, offering assistance that Wanda accepts. “I suppose we should return before we have to deal with that again.” 

They should. Even if it is the last thing she wants to do. These meetings are always long affairs due to the inevitable devolving into one-upping each other with acts of stupidity masquerading as heroics. Sometimes she’ll participate, but most of the time she just wants to shower and relax, actually decompress before the next phase of the mission. Additionally, given the complete lack of privacy and solitude in the cramped ship, as their teammates so kindly noted, she’s remiss to leave this spot and this moment, Vision the only person she ever wants to be around post-mission. Tonight even more so. “Yeah, we should.” 

Despite their words, neither moves from the peacefulness around them. 

The stars are crystalline, so much brighter than the ones they see on Earth. Wanda’s not even sure if they are the same stars or different, not really understanding where they are, but she admires them all the same, especially the way they reflect off the placid surface of the pond, in the middle of which two moons hang together, rippling when an insect lands on the water.  “Vizh.” Their hands are together, fingers laced so naturally, their muscles remembering each other perfectly so that a simple action like holding hands can happen without thought. Wanda tugs on his hand, turning his body to face her, his eyes bright and curious at what she wants. “I love you.” 

His face softens, the Mindstone glowing a touch brighter as his lips mimic the curves of the moons above. “I love you too.” 

It’s a common exchange between them, done at least five times a day, usually more, but today it holds a special weight, or at least, it was supposed to. Maybe it still can. Wanda reaches out her other hand, wiggling her fingers until, with his head cocked to the right, he takes her invitation, his body fully facing her now. “You know, I’ve spent the last three weeks practicing what I wanted to say to you today,” usually in the shower or lying in bed while Vision was off making her tea. It was nerve-wracking to write down her feelings for him, even more petrifying was the knowledge of having to say it in front of so many people. Right now, however, it’s just him. “And, um, is it okay if I tell you? Even without the wedding.” 

Vision’s lips tighten into a line as he works through her request, the right side tipping up when he nods in understanding, “I would like that.” 

“Okay.” The world hushes around them, the gentle lapping of the water at the mossy shore providing a meditative anchor to calm her nerves while her heart matches the rhythm of his irises spinning. He’s beautiful, always, but especially against the backdrop of the nebulous skies. “Okay. Vision,” if it is this hard to say it just to him, she can’t imagine how she was going to do it in front of over two hundred people, “A long time ago I was told I had a moon. A very kind, very gentle, freakishly intelligent and attractive moon,” the increasing slope of his mouth and the comforting pressure of his hands helps keep her going, “and I thought they were idiots.” Vision laughs with her, easing her nerves just a bit more. “And they were, to be fair.” 

He whispers his agreeance, making sure not to interrupt her too much. “Yes, they were.” 

Wanda spends several seconds counting the turn of his irises now that she’s reached the part she had struggled to put into words without it sounding so cheesy she was embarrassed to say it. “They thought you were a moon and I was a planet, never realizing that we were just two planets that happened to pass by each other and become joined in a mutual orbit.” A moment goes by where she seeks out some sort of response, having watched the documentary again just to make sure she didn’t screw up the science lingo. Vision simply smiles. “One that’s only grown stronger throughout these wonderful, amazing years. No matter what we’re doing, or where we are, we will always find each other, we will face every obstacle and accomplishment together. I will always be drawn to you and you to me, I hope.” 

“I will.” 

Wanda beams at the reassurance, “That’s good. I love you, Vision. And, um, even though we’re already pretty comfortable in our little planetary system, I am so incredibly overjoyed to be binding my soul to yours today.” 

“That was beautiful.” 

“Thanks.” A weight falls from her shoulders at the unmitigated love on his face and booming from his mind, her cheeks beginning to sting a bit from how wide her own smile is as she feels his thoughts and feet shift. 

“Wanda Maximoff,” his voice shakes as he adjusts the grip of his hands, his thumbs nervously running over her rings while the gears in his eyes race counterclockwise. “I am most comfortable with the world when it can be quantified and analyzed conclusively, which may come as a shock, I know.” 

“Truly shocking.” 

A gentle kiss is laid on her forehead, the pressure of his lips replaced with the corners of the Mindstone as he touches his face to hers, voice lowering as he continues, “Ever since I came into this world, there were quantifiable changes where you were concerned. My heart rate always increases 2.25 beats per minute whenever you enter a room, 5.73 whenever you smile at me, and 9.62 whenever you touch me.” If she concentrates, Wanda can feel his elevated heart rate even now, thrumming happily in the pulse at his wrist. “During the evenings, my mind spends significantly more minutes replaying our conversations than the combination of my time spent with our teammates. There is also a significant lag in the number of milliseconds it takes me to form words when you stare at me in a particular way,” Vision breathes in, releasing a shaky, self-conscious laugh, “Like the way you are looking at me now.” 

“You’re doing great.” 

“Thank you. Um, so these are only some of the numbers I associate with you,” the rest, no doubt, she could find in spreadsheets and charts, a thought that only increases the smile on her face, which she thought was impossible, “and yet they fail to represent what you mean to me.  Wanda, my love for you defies quantification, and oddly, I find this immensely comforting, that there is no straightforward way to define the ineffable rightness I experience whenever you are with me.” Vision lets go of her hand in order to bring his palm to her cheek, the ridges of his thumb tickling her skin as he wicks away her tears. “I love you, Wanda Maximoff.” 

“Are you,” she lifts onto her toes, bringing their faces closer, “going to kiss your bride now?” 

A radiant grin breaks across his face, “Yes I am.” 

As Vision bends closer a voice booms in their earpieces, “Hey, lovebirds,” Tony’s timing is impeccable, as always, Vision’s forehead falling back to hers in defeat, “Steve just crossed his arms and sighed which means the aneurysm is next, so please, get your asses back here and then you can disappear, capiche?” 

A deep inhale from Vision helps to calm both of them and her own aggravated exhale serves as a mild catharsis. “Let’s just go appease them and then,” she runs her hands up along his arm, always enjoying the feel of his tricep flexing beneath her touch, “we’re going to come back to that whole kissing your bride thing, okay? Because I am expecting one hell of a kiss from you.” 

Vision huffs in amusement. “That is amenable to me.” He swings his body away from the lake, his momentum encouraging her own feet to point towards the hill she walked over earlier, and holds out an arm in the general direction of the basecamp. “Shall we?” 

“I’d really rather not.” 

“Me neither.” 

“But we should go.” 

“Yes, we should.”

They walk back hand in hand, eyes trained up on the sky as Vision points out the differences in this stellar vista from the one they like to watch from the compound roof. As they approach the ship, the unmistakable beat of Starlord’s repetitive music greets them, making it hard for her to hear the last bit of the tragedy of some serpent lovers embedded in the sky. Wanda tamps down her annoyance and heads towards their typical seats, ready to get the strategizing over with and back to Vision. Except their seats aren’t there. “Where’s the…” Wanda glances up and freezes, voice caught in her throat, unable to finish the question. Vision doesn’t need to hear the rest, his own body rigid and confusion thrashing in his mind. 

All of the chairs and boxes have been rearranged from the circle they’ve been using for meetings to rows, separated into two halves by an aisle leading to a four post structure covered in a large, linen cloth that is a singular piece, embroidered with a border of twining Ws and Vs made up of scarlet and gold thread.  “Wanda did you…” his voice trails away, dissipating into the air as they stare at what appears to be their chuppah, well most of it anyway, the posts are not the same branches they’d carefully chosen a month ago. Not that that is important. What is more important is that Wanda knows for a fact she didn’t pack the cloth and if Vision’s own discombobulated thoughts and cessation of breathing means anything, then he also didn’t bring it. 

“It’s about time.” Nat’s voice startles them both, Wanda jumping at the intrusion and Vision’s fingers flinching against her hand. “Steve was about to send out a search party.” 

“Nat,” Wanda leans to the right to glance around their teammate just to double check what she’s seeing is real, “what the hell is going on?” 

The spy presents them the same smug grin that crawls across her face during their biannual poker nights, right around the time they all realize their last chips are about to be taken. “You’re supposed to get married today, right?” When neither of them acknowledges this, Wanda, personally, in too much shock to process what is happening, Natasha’s pride descends into a softer, friendlier cadence. “Sam and I realized as we were all running around packing, that we might miss the wedding.” 

“So we grabbed the important stuff, you know,” the other culprit joins them, a toothy grin on Sam’s face as he throws his arm around Vision’s shoulders, “rings, the canopy thing, Thor got us an intergalactic marriage license he claims will be recognized by the U.S., though we’ll have to figure that one out when we get back because I don’t believe him.” 

The way Natasha's arms cross always makes Wanda nervous, an action that typically precedes bad news, “I couldn’t fit your dress into my bag," her shoulders drop a little, releasing some of the involuntary tension in Wanda's neck, "but I did pack a couple of your normal ones, if you want to change, and apparently Drax is pretty good at braiding hair, if you want that.” Based on Natasha's own disbelief, Wanda is not eager to find out if the man is a braiding aficionado. The dress, needs a bit more thought.

“I, um,” at the tenth obscenely priced bridal store Wanda had told Nat and Pepper that she didn’t care if she got married in her pajamas, which was a bit of an exaggeration, but it also held some truth. Sure, when she was a little girl she had her dreams of fancy dresses made by mice and horse drawn carriages, yet as she got older those fanciful thoughts fled, the world beating them out of her with each tragedy. She’s not a princess and Vision’s not a prince, they’re Avengers and no fancy dress can or should change that. This is their life, the reason they met, and it’s fitting, in a way she hadn’t ever contemplated, to get married as Avengers. “I think I’m fine like this. Vizh?” 

“You did this,” Vision’s voice is distant, a bit strangled, not used to being caught so completely by surprise, and the corners of his eyes glisten as he takes in the grinning faces of their teammates, his mind still about three steps behind in the conversation, “for us?” 

Sam’s incredulous, “Of course, what kind of best man would I be if I didn’t make sure you got down the aisle?” seems to shock Vision even more, his body turning away to take in the area around him and Wanda joins him in this, a smile creeping ever higher on her face at the sight of their teammates mingling. Mantis is stringing makeshift electrical wire garland along the seats where Gamora and Nebula lounge in silence, Rhodes and Starlord appear to be arguing over a boombox, Groot keeps sprouting flowers and placing them in a sizable bouquet, and Thor is just to the left of the chuppah, chatting merrily with Tony and Steve. “You two want to get married, right?” 

“Yes.” The first one is disbelieving, but after Vision meets her eyes to get her consent, which she gives unapologetically with an enthusiastic nod, his second “Yes,” is firm and brimming with excitement. 

Though Wanda’s close with Natasha, they’ve never had a touchy relationship, which makes the arm she lays along Wanda’s shoulder a bit awkward yet still amicable in its unexpectedness, “Good. I know it’s not the lap of luxury you were supposed to have...” 

It’s not, but it is surprisingly close to what they actually wanted. “This is perfect.” 

As if the gesture wasn’t already wonderful, Nat adds another detail to the day, “Rocket even got Helen and the Bartons in on a video feed to watch.” 

“Thank you,” Vision’s voice still trembles with shock, “for all of this.” 

“Seriously, our pleasure,” the shake Sam gives to Vision’s shoulder causes Wanda to sway as well, “let’s get you up front.” 

Vision hesitates at the suggestion, turning back towards Wanda with a furrowed brow, “Should I change?” 

“I think you look fantastic like this,” Wanda fidgets with the edge of his cape as she talks, “plus I’m not changing, so I’d rather you not make me feel underdressed.” 

“Then I will remain like this.” He glances towards the canopy, where only Thor now stands, sending them a friendly wave, and Vision’s lips twitch up when he faces here once more, raising her hand and placing a reverential kiss to her skin, “I will see you shortly.” 

“Bye.” Wanda’s fingers flex at the loss of his touch. The graceful flow of her groom’s gait as he takes his place sends a tingle shooting up her spine while butterflies seem to flutter in her stomach. The sight of the two men speaking quietly with each other, their capes billowing against the rocky backdrop, stirs her heart, a warmth budding in her chest and hitching a ride through her veins until her entire body is aglow. 

“I am Groot.” 

Wanda looks down at the tree, a broad smile forming at the bouquet he offers her. “It’s gorgeous, thank you.” 

“I am Groot.” 

“Thor claimed you all know what to do for the ceremony.” The statement ends in an uptick, Natasha’s own, smaller bouquet tilting to the side as she looks at Wanda for confirmation. 

“As long as he didn’t change anything, then yeah.” 

“Good. I convinced Tony not to walk you down the aisle.” 

This is why Nat was the easy choice for her sole bridal party member. “Thank you.” 

Natasha shrugs, never one to want compliments for doing her job. “Groot volunteered to be the flower…tree, I guess, so he’s going to lead the way, I’ll follow, and then Quill is going to play the only song he owns that seemed mildly appropriate, that’s when you go. Any questions?” 

They have the chuppah, the rings, both she and Vision are conscious and relatively unharmed. It seems all of the most important components are here. Then a chill runs up her spine and her lungs spasm at the thought of forgetting one other vital piece of the ceremony. “Did you grab the frame?” When they began planning in earnest, Vision bought a new, much sturdier frame for the only remaining photos she had of her parents and Pietro, the intent being to place it on a small table next to them so she’d have all of her family with her. 

“It’s on the ammunition case right next to where you’ll be,” Natasha’s bouquet directs her to the case and the silver frame. 

Even if it infringes on the status quo of their friendship, Wanda throws her arms around Nat, “Thank you so much.” 

The hug is reciprocated for a couple seconds and then it ends, Nat pulling back with a half-cocked smile, her eyes a little wet but she acts as if that’s not happening, instead brushing a stray piece of Wanda’s hair away from her forehead. “You sure you two don’t need a few minutes to get ready?” 

“No, we’re good.” 

Natasha let’s go of her with a serious nod that is given levity by the brightness of her, “Then let’s get you married.” 

It feels like a dream, all of it, which makes Wanda’s agreement wistful and a bit uncertain.  “Okay, let’s go.” 

The dreamlike feeling remains even as she watches Groot dance down the aisle, one hand dropping the same small flowers of her bouquet to the rust colored soil and the other releasing flecks of light into the air that remind her of lying in the forest during the summer, marveling with Vision at the way the fireflies blink in and out of existence. When Natasha leaves her, reality starts to set in a little bit, her heart racing and fingers closing tighter around the stalks of her bouquet, and she doesn’t really understand how something so wonderful can make her feel so off-kilter. The song changes and somehow her feet know what to do, moving independently of her mind, a fortunate thing because she’s only vaguely aware of the faces on either side of her, far more enthralled by the tiny, stunning smile gracing Vision’s lips, one that grows with each step she takes until he beams down at her, the love radiating from his mind brighter than any star she’s ever seen. It’s when he takes her hand, right around the first chorus of I fooled around and fell in love, and leads her under the cloth, the moonlight cascading through the fabric, creating a stunning pattern on his vibranium, that it fully hits her: she's getting married. 

“Are you ready?” 

Wanda grins up at her very-soon-to-be-husband, “I am.” 

Wordlessly they move into place for the first part of the ceremony, a tradition Vision insisted remain as they decided what parts from her heritage to keep and which to amend. Not that she wanted to forego this part of the ceremony, but she halfheartedly pretended to just because she enjoyed watching how enthusiastically he outlined the reasons to include it. Wanda lets go of Vision’s hand and steps in front of him. In time with the music, she walks a tight circle around him, making sure to brush his arm on each of her three passes, reaffirming her commitment to be close to him and to protect him. The slight nudge she gives to his shoulder on the last circle is just to keep him on his toes. Once she’s done they switch places, his three revolutions are more elliptical but just as tactile, the tips of his fingers in constant contact with her body while he moves around her, and she accepts his promise to remain with her through all cycles of her life. It’s the seventh and final circle when she finally stares into his eyes, focusing on the jubilant whirl of the gears and the sheepish tilt of his mouth, their bodies facing each other, barely an inch between them, as they take synchronized steps to transition from two separate paths into one joint orbit. 

Thor takes over once they resume their original positions, side by side, a thoroughly thrilled grin on his face and his hands gesturing wide as he speaks. “Welcome my dear friends. Is it not fitting that on this day we are gathered on a field of recent bloodshed,” Vision glances at her, the lift of his eyebrows matching her own amusement at the change in script, “to celebrate this momentous and singular union of two of the universe’s most powerful and otherworldly warriors?” 

The words are allowed to settle before Thor gives a hearty laugh, clapping his hand to her shoulder, leaning forward as if he is telling her a private joke despite the fact his voice is still loud enough for everyone to hear. “It is humorous to me, the evolution of this relationship. Wanda if not for your villainous invasion of my mind,” something she had not considered necessary to bring up at her wedding, “I never would have investigated the existence and capabilities of the Mindstone, and your groom here,” Thor’s other hand lands on Vision’s arm with a loud slap, one that, if it were anyone other than a vibranium-laced synthezoid, would send a body reeling, “would not have come into being. It is truly poetic how deeply entwined your lives were at the onset and how this has been cultivated into a love so true,” he shakes their shoulders to emphasize the words, “and so profound that it will no doubt be sung in the great halls of Midgard for centuries to come. My dear friends,” his large hands leave their shoulders, but not before shoving them closer together with a wink, “it is my honor to be here today to herald in your union. You have prepared vows, yes?” 

The expectant stares around them are stifling, Wanda a person who has never had a strong desire to be the center of attention. “Um yes.” 

“Then please, face each other and speak your unbridled passion.” 

Before either of them move, Natasha stealthily takes her bouquet, leaving Wanda’s hand free and unsure what to do, their actual rehearsal was supposed to be last night and though she knows roughly what happens now, she finds herself a bit lost on who is supposed to do what. Vision reaches out for her floundering hand, encouraging her to swivel to the appropriate position. Reliefs rushes through her at the slightly flummoxed wrinkles of Vision’s forehead, and she finds that when she looks at him, the rest of the people fade away and the only discomfort left, as she counts the ten clicks of his irises, is the antsy tap of her heels as she waits to finally kiss her husband. “Vizh,” the gentleness of his fingers cinching around her hands always flips her stomach and does funny things to her heart, “if it’s okay, I might just do the abridged version, since, well…” 

“Of course,” that little reserved smile on his face, for years, has created sunbursts under her cheeks. It still does. 

“Okay.” Wanda stares at him, studying the textured lines of his face (even though she has them memorized), and then glances down at the contrast of his skin against hers, unable and unwilling to dam up the giddiness spreading throughout her body at holding his hands like this for the rest of her life. A half step back is just enough to take in the way the floating, golden orbs reflect off the vibranium and give his eyes the slightest of shimmers, Wanda committing this moment to memory as the last time she looked at him as her fiancé. “Vision,” she’d meant to recount only bits of her planned vows, yet new words seem to sprout as she takes him in, “you are my best friend, the love of my life, and my planet. I am so lucky that in this weird,” her gaze briefly slides to the faces in the frame, Vision following her gaze and holding her hands a little tighter, “unforgiving world, I managed to find a soul like yours. You make the universe more beautiful and give me hope when I don’t think any exists. I love you so much.” 

Thor wipes a tear away, infringing on their moment with a, “Truly resplendent. And now Vision.” 

A small cough precedes Vision’s barely audible, “You did not inform me these would be improvised.” 

Wanda shrugs, equally quiet with her, “Sorry.”

“I will forgive you.” He winks at her and it sets off a flurry in her chest. “Wanda,” the team took bets on who would cry first in the ceremony, everyone but her betting against Vision, which makes the tear running down his cheek all the sweeter as his voice seems to run away. A gentle squeeze of his hands seems to help him recover. “Wanda,” no amount of pride or money can match the way his voice washes over her, sincerity and love stitched into every word, “as was recently mentioned, my path into this life was a little unusual,” silently she mouths just a bit and is rewarded with the breathy, nigh inaudible snort he does whenever he’s simultaneously amused and embarrassed, “what I am about to say is antithetical to scientific theorem, but there are days I find myself considering kismet because I am unable to accept we found each other by random chance. You were the first person I ever felt in my mind, the first face I ever saw, and the first and only person I ever intend to love.” He pauses, feet shuffling a few times and his voice drops so that the only way she can hear him is to touch his mind. “All the other things I said earlier tonight also apply.” 

“I figured.” 

 “Wanda,” Thor’s voice and countenance maintain the Shakespearean gravitas needed for such a moment, guiding them back to the established ceremonial path. "Do you take Vision,” her eyes remain on the perennial joy of Vision’s face, “to be your husband, to cherish and protect him, to remain by his side in both moments of triumph and adversity, to live a life hallowed by your never-ending love and faithfulness?” 

Vision’s face grows blurry as her eyes fill with tears, but she refuses to let go of his hands in order to wipe them away. “I do.” 

“Excellent. Now Vision, do you take Wanda..."

The words exist only as a crackle in the back of her mind as she watches every tic of Vision’s face – the way his pupils dilate with a subtle click, the darting tip of his tongue that wets his lips whenever he is nervous, the twitching of his cheeks as he attempts to maintain some semblance of control over his emotions, and the scrunch of his nose that lets her know he’s aware she’s staring at him. Suddenly all the tell-tale signs go away and are replaced by a striking confidence and then his lips move and she hears the words a half second after she feels them in her mind, “I do.” 

“Wonderful, and now the rings. Samuel, Natasha.” Their wedding party step up, each handing a ring to Thor. “Wanda, please take the ring."

Wanda turns towards Thor and picks up Vision’s vibranium ring (their rings a very kind wedding gift from T'Challa). The ceremony dictates the officiant say the vow first, but Wanda knows it by heart, having said it dozens of times in her daydreams, so she forges on without any help. “With this ring,” she brings Vision’s hand up and begins to slide the ring along his finger, “you are now a part of me, for I love you as my soul.” His ring finishes its journey a lot smoother than any of their practice runs, something she thinks could be related to a minimal manipulation of his molecules, but she’ll lecture him on that later, far too excited to proclaim to everyone around them, “You are now my husband.” 

"Now Vision, please repeat after me." The reprimand is in good fun, but Vision still straightens up at the command, refusing to ditch tradition as enthusiastically as she does.  

It’s almost impossible not to bounce on the balls of her feet as Vision slides his left hand under hers, lifting it into position where it lines up with the simple vibranium band gripped between his thumb and index finger. Thor’s voice is drowned out by the rapid beating of her heart, so strong it vibrates her entire body, but not loud enough to stifle Vision’s own words, “With this ring,” the metal is cool on her skin as he inches it to her first knuckle, “you are now a part of me, for I love you as my soul,” they’d practiced this, with some of her other rings, a few days before they left, and just like all their practices, Vision gets the ring stuck on her second knuckle, lips pursing as she wiggles her finger in encouragement. One more push and it clinks against her engagement ring, his thumb glancing over the band. There’s an adoring smile on his face as he declares, “You are now my wife.” 

What is supposed to come next is the formal announcement, followed by a breaking of a glass, and then, finally, their kiss. Wanda, however, feels like they didn’t think through the order very well, so she eschews the plan and draws Vision to her, finally able to kiss her husband. Somewhere in the distance she can hear Thor laughing and cheers from their teammates but they are muted by the feel of Vision’s arm snaking around her waist to draw her against his chest, his head tilting ever so slightly to the right to deepen the kiss, and then, just to make sure he keeps his promise of one hell of a kiss, Vision dips her low to another round of cheers.  “I love you,” his lips brush hers as he speaks, “my wife.” 

“I love you too…hubby,” the way he chuckles enlivens her soul, sparks sputtering under her skin at his delight.  Vision pulls her back up firmly onto her feet, his hands cupping her face for one more exuberant kiss. 

“Friends,” Thor steps closer to them, “we only have two more actions and then you may relish the bliss of your nuptial oath.” Reluctantly Wanda steps back from Vision, their hands finding each other once more, only this time there’s a new sensation on his finger, a piece of metal she’s never felt, that’s new and right and perfect. “It is with great honor and joy that I,” Thor nudges them to turn towards their teammates who are standing, varying degrees of happiness on their faces, even most of the Guardians seeming to have been swept up in the moment, “present to you Wanda and Vision Maximoff.” 

Swiftly Sam lays down a glass and covers it with a towel, flashing them a thumbs up as he steps away. “Well, Maximoff,” she’s waited so long to use that name for him, and the wait was worth it, his face breaking out into a brilliant, moony radiance, “on three?” 

“On three.” 

“One, two, three,” Wanda grips his hand tighter as their feet come down on the glass, shattering it into pieces with the hope that their happiness in the years going forward will be more plentiful than what lies beneath the towel and that their love is just as irrevocable. 

Tony shouts a, “Mazol Tov!” and everyone leaves their seats.

   It is much later, after copious amounts of not-mission-approved alcohol is imbibed and most of the team has sat down, their arms sore from the unexpected competition that occurred to see who could hoist Wanda and Vision's chairs up the highest, and their feet tired of dancing to the same rotation of songs, that Wanda is able to have Vision to herself. They sway beneath the starry sky, arms snug around each other and foreheads resting together, cherishing this moment of bliss since the morning will return them to the mission. Wanda draws her husband into another kiss, melting into the devotion of his lips and the way he gently grabs her waist, content knowing that no matter what life offers, it will all be made so much brighter with him by her side, just two celestial bodies careening through this unpredictable universe together.   

[kickstartmyheartmc]

Revival: Chapter 3

Word Count: 3,646

Taglist: @public-enemy-sixx @fastnfearless @fandomshit6000

              Eighteen was a big number for you. It meant legal freedom from anything binding you to your past, and the freedom to move out of Dottie’s apartment without worrying about a cosigner. She helped you get a credit card in order to raise your credit for the very purpose of moving out. She loved having you around, but she missed living alone for the simple things in life: day drinking, eating two bowls of spaghetti without judgement, and the occasional date brought home for fun. She felt constricted with you around, as if she needed to be the best influence upon you and your young life. Once you moved out, she could go back to her destructive habits without a worry.

               “Happy birthday, Y/N!” Dottie yelled from the kitchen right before emerging with a two-tier chocolate and vanilla ice cream cake covered in strawberry frosting with little decorative pink sprinkles at the base of each tier. A chocolate ice cream cone was perched on top, tilted to the left, with the ice cream dripping down the side of the top tier.

               Your eyes lit up. “Dottie, you’re amazing!” It was beautiful and the best cake you ever saw. The only birthday cakes you had with your family were single-layer chocolate cakes with overly-sweetened fudge icing that would get stuck to the roof of your mouth if you weren’t careful. Dottie put a lot of effort into this cake and the two of you were going to end up in a sugar coma, you just knew it.

               The two of you dug in, and it took an entire hour to finish the cake. It wasn’t humongous, but the sheer amount of sugar within one bite took some time to process and finish. The amount of time it took to finish the cake allowed for you and Dottie to have a deep conversation about what you wanted to do with your future.

               When she asked the question, you had to stop and think for a moment. “I actually… am not sure. I never finished high school, so in order to go to college I’d have to get my GED.” You shrugged. “I could try to work in advertising or on movie sets, but those require experience, and to get experience I need to go to college, and to go to college I need a GED.” Your head hurt just from thinking about it. “I really don’t know. All I want to do is move out and start my life alone. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Dottie, but it’s time I start looking for apartments.” You gave her a soft smile.

               She returned the gesture, rubbing your back. “Hon, you’ve been a wonderful addition to my life the past seven months, but I cannot wait to get you out.” You both laughed and started to clean up your messes. “Now that you’re eighteen, I’d be more than happy to show you the ropes as a manager at Donny’s if you want more hours and a higher wage when you’re working hourly.”

               You didn’t look back at her, but you replied, “You’re the best, Dottie.”

               She was quiet until you walked through the kitchen door to go to your room. “I know.”

               You opened the door to your room and Emily came bursting out. “Hi, baby!” You crouched down to let your dog kiss you and cuddle up, happy to see you again after only an hour. “I’m sorry I had to leave you in there; you would’ve tried to eat my ice cream cake if I hadn’t!” You patted her on the back and led her out the front door, taking her for her daily walk. The sun shined down, heating up the cold ground beneath Emily’s feet. It was November 16th, 1977, the day you were waiting on for years. Your eighteenth birthday. Nothing had actually changed, but you felt a new sense of purpose, as if you could actually make a difference now.

               Just then, Emily growled and darted away from you. Your fell to the ground and were able to un-loop the leash from your wrist before she dragged you down the Sunset Strip and tore your clothes—let alone your skin—apart. “Fuck,” you muttered, pushing yourself to stand back up. You sighed and watched as she chased someone on a bicycle, almost causing them to fall off and crash in front of a truck. Before she could go anywhere else, someone grabbed her leash and kept her in place. The anonymous hero petted her as she stood up on her hind legs to reach up and lick their face.

               “Thank you so much,” you huffed. “She’s never done that before; she caught me off-guard.”

               “No problem, Y/N.” The stranger looked up with a small smile, revealing himself to be Nikki.

               You were taken aback; it seemed as if you two were drawn to each other by fate, destiny, or luck of the draw—all you know is that whatever it was kept trying to tell you Nikki was supposed to be in your life. “Hi, stranger.” You smiled, taking the leash from him. “Fancy seeing you around.”

               Nikki shrugged, popping his collar as if he knew he was cool. “Yeah, well, I get around.”

               “I don’t know if that’s something you should be bragging about in that way,” you giggled, crossing your arms. “What’re you up to today, anyway?” You turned your chin upwards a little bit, giving off the illusion of disinterest.

               Nikki mimicked the movement. “Just browsing apartments.” He shrugged. “I’m picky, it takes a while.”

               Eyebrows raised and lips puckered, you said, “Funny. So am I.” Maybe this was it. “Would you want to, I don’t know, search together?”

               “Um… I don’t see why not.” Nikki didn’t think you were going to say that, but he was glad you did. “Where do you want to start?”

               You dropped Emily off at Dottie’s apartment and introduced her to Nikki now that you two were “bona fide buddies” (as Nikki described the two of you). The first apartment was a small studio fit perfectly for someone always on the run. The manager just about talked you into buying it right away, but Nikki stepped in and showed you the ropes on how to make a deal. The next complex featured a few one- and two-bedroom apartments that were a bit pricey for your serving job. Nikki grabbed two applications, one for him and you, despite the suggestion from the landlord about sharing one and living together.

               “Oh, no, we’re not together,” you nervously protested. “Thank you for the thought, though.”

               While you and Nikki strolled towards the last destination, which was right around the corner from the Whiskey-a-Go-Go, he nudged your arm. “You know, I wouldn’t be opposed to living with you. I know we aren’t that close, and haven’t spent, like, any time together, but you seem like the kind of person I could vibe with.” He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck. “Just a thought.”

               Your cheeks lit up. “I mean, I’ll have to think about it… but thank you for the offer.”

 “Thank you for your time today, uh, Y/N and… Nikki?” The landlord eyed Nikki as if she didn’t believe that was his real name. “I’ll process these papers, get your information in the system, and then you’ll be all set to move in!” She shook both of your hands before you two left.

               “I don’t know how you convinced me to do that, but it was nice doing business with you!” You laughed and held your hand out to Nikki, who gladly shook it.

               “No problem, Y/N. Now, how about I take you out on a celebratory date?” He swiftly intertwined your fingers with his. “My treat. You’re the reason I’m getting off the street for the first time in three years.”

               That was news. It never occurred to you that he was living on the street and that was the reason why he was home-hunting. What else did he keep hidden away from the world? Was he putting on a show to convince you to move in with him just to find a place for his lady loves? These questions crossed your mind as your body reacted in a positive manner to his loving gesture: bright smile, sparkling eyes, a gentle nod. “Of course I will.”

 7:13 P.M.

               “How do I look, Dottie?” You strutted to the middle of the living room, posing in front of the television she was watching.

               That caused her to grumble, “Fine, now move,” and she waved her hand to the side, indicating you to move to the side.

               You pouted at her. “Thanks for you support, Dot. Not like I’m nervous or anything. Not like it’s my very first date, like, ever.” You slid on the nicest pair of shoes you had, a pair of black boot heels. “Just going to end up tripping over my own two feet anyway.”

               She waved good-bye as you ran out the door, ready for your date at the Whiskey with Nikki. He promised to be there, but he gave you no other details. The blind trust you had in him was phenomenal, and it surprised you more than it shocked him, especially considering everything that happened between Mom and Dad back in Florida.

               The cool evening air brought you back to reality. There was a line forming in front of the club, but it wasn’t too long so you were able to get in relatively quickly. The bouncer looked at you for a few seconds, squinting as if he was unsure about whether or not he needed to check your ID. With a small shrug and a quick head tilt, he gestured for you to go inside. You let out a quick sigh of relief. It felt nice being able to get into forbidden places, almost as if it was a secret society.

               The atmosphere inside was unlike anything else you’d experienced. There were women with skirts riding as high as the bottom of their ass cheeks. Their breasts swayed to and fro from the lack of support from a bra, and they were dancing alongside tall, handsome men. They ranged in size from under six feet tall to towering at almost seven. There was a wide range of skin tones and body shapes, but each and every one was interesting to you and your inquiring eye. You moseyed over to the bar to order a jack and coke for yourself while you waited on Nikki to arrive.

 7:56 P.M.

               The blonde woman on the opposite side of the bar top pushed her chest out towards the handsome man she was speaking to. She twirled her fingers in her hair, biting her lip. You ordered your third jack and coke as you observed. Something about her seemed familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. When the bartender put the drink down in front of you, a random man slid a $10 bill on the counter towards her. “Keep the change, darlin’.” He winked at the bartender before looking at you. “Hi there.”

               You cleared your throat. “Hello.” Hopefully he would go away if conversation was short and snappy.

               “What’s your name, beautiful?” He reached his hand up and held your jaw between his thumb and index finger. The feeling of his hand on you didn’t feel right.

               “Y/N,” you answered shortly. “What’s yours?”

               He chuckled, running his other hand through your hair, causing you to jolt back. His smile faded as he tried to touch your hair again, this time tightening his grip so you couldn’t move as much. “Lizzie Grey.”

               You snorted. “It’s original, I’ll give you that.” You reached up and grabbed his wrist, digging your nails into his skin. He hissed and let your hair go.

               “Bitch,” he sneered, shoving your face as he let go of your jaw. You watched as he walked away towards the back of the building through a door with “Employees Only” on it. Whether or not he was allowed back there didn’t matter to you as much as finding Nikki was. His absence came as a surprise, especially since he seemed so adamant about the date. It came only as a mild shock but brought more disappointment than expected.

               You sighed, downed the rest of your drink, and stood up from the stool. While you flattened out your clothes and prepared for a way to get home safely, a crowd surged past you to the stage that was empty just a few minutes ago. Now that you looked up at it, you saw five men on stage in dark leather clothing with big hair and platform boots. It wasn’t uncommon in 1977 for men to dress in such a way, especially because of the ever-growing rock-and-roll scene; what shocked you was the sight of Nikki on stage with Lizzie Grey, the man that just tried to assault you in public, while holding a bass guitar. If it hadn’t been connected to your head, your jaw probably would have dropped to the floor. No fucking way, you thought. This new information meant that a closer look was inevitable.

 9:17 P.M.

               Your body swayed to the music, feeling the bass from Nikki and the drummer send vibrations through your bones. Nothing was better than dancing—the freedom to express emotions without words; the ability to show off to anyone willing to lay eyes on such beauty; the raw energy released through such a creative outlet. The drink in your hand helped too… just a little.

               You were so wrapped up in dancing all night to notice the diminishing crowd, with less than fifty people left to snicker and laugh as you drunkenly stumbled around. Dancing might have been a creative outlet, but it had no control over how people treated you at your happiest. Fortunately, you did not notice; unfortunately, Nikki did.

               As soon as the song ended, Nikki said something into the singer’s ear. The crowd booed, wanting more music. The bassist flipped them off as he left the stage and went through the Employee Only door, only to come back out almost immediately. You didn’t notice him grab your hand until he pulled you to the side of the bar, into a corner where nobody was at in order to get some privacy.

               “Hey, Y/N?” he asked, helping you sit down in a booth.

               “Hm?” you replied, eyes half closed and glazed over, a wide grin adorning your face. That made Nikki laugh.

               “While I normally love getting shit-faced to forget my problems, I think I need to take you home.” He reached to help you stand, but you smacked his hand away from you.

               “Don’t fucking touch me,” you growled, accidentally spilling your drink all over your outfit. “Shit.”

               Nikki stepped back and looked around. The band got off the stage a couple minutes earlier, deciding they couldn’t continue without a bassist (which made Nikki feel good, he was not going to deny that; it was just odd because this was not how they usually operated). He sighed, pursed his lips, and grabbed a couple glasses of water from the bartender. He gave one to you and made you drink before he sat down beside you. “While you sober up, I guess we can talk about the set. Did you like it?”

               You would have loved to answer, but your mind was going a million miles a minute. This was your first time being drunk. The fire that graced every inch of your skin made you feel crazy, as if clothes were unnecessary for survival in that very moment. They would have come off if Nikki didn’t stop you.

               He cleared his throat. “While I can’t wait to get you in bed, I would rather you not show every man in here what you have.” It took everything in his power to not rip you from the booth and drag you home.

               “The music was supendipular,” you giggled, leaned on Nikki’s arm. Hiccup. “The singer is an asshole.”

               “Wait, what?” Nikki sat you back up and held your shoulders so you could look at him directly. “Why would you say that?”

               You pouted. “He grabbed my jaw like this—” You demonstrated on him. “—and put his hand like this.” Your other free hand snaked up his neck and behind his head in order to grab his hair and pull it, but he stopped you before it happened.

               He was fuming. Before he could get out of the booth, the four other band members appeared to check on him. Lizzie was the first to talk. “Hey, man. Oh, shit! It’s that bitch I was telling you about.” He turned to his bandmates for unspoken backup. “She refused to let me touch her, but now I can see why.” The band laughed, but Nikki was not taking it. He looked at you one last time, winked, and turned back around to stand up and place an untrained punch on Lizzie’s nose. While it didn’t break, he still stumbled backwards and screamed.

               “What the fuck, dude?!” He looked at his fingers after feeling his nose only to find blood. “I think you broke my fucking nose!”

               One of the guitarists tried to step in and retaliate at Nikki, but the drummer grabbed and stopped him. “It’s not worth it, Randy.” He kept a tight hold of Randy until he promised he wasn’t going to hit Nikki.

               “Fuck you,” he snarled. As the singer and guitarist left (per the drummer’s instructions), Lizzie stared Nikki down.

               “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you’re fucking fired.” He touched his nose again, only causing it to bleed more.

               Nikki clenched his jaw. “Lizzie, you’re a disgusting person. Why don’t you show a little more respect?”

               “To who? You or the tramp?”

               This time it was the drummer who threw the punch and broke Lizzie’s nose. The man fell to the ground, unconscious.

               From the booth, you stared at them in shock. It was only a few moments until you slurred out, “What the fuck was that?”

               Nikki turned to his band mate. “You didn’t have to help, man.”

               “Of course I did, dude. You’re my brother.” He patted Nikki’s back. “He’s an asshole anyway.”

               “Thanks, Dane.” He shot him a smile before turning back to you.

               After your declaration of not knowing what the fuck was going on, you slumped over and passed out in the booth, completely worn out.

 10:24 P.M.

               Nikki knocked on the door to Dottie’s apartment. She opened the door to find Nikki’s shy smile, you slumped on his back snoring, and a few flies buzzing around. She had no idea how to greet him, so she just moved out of the way to let him in. He asked where your bedroom was, and she pointed him in the direction. When he crouched down to let you off his back and into your bed, you woke up.

               The world was groggy, and nothing was in focus, but the familiar scent of incense and dog hair was an indicator of home. You groaned and wiped your eyes.

               Nikki found that exponentially adorable. “Good morning, sleepy head.”

               You stopped in an instant. Everything came flooding back and the pounding in your head became ten times worse. “Oh my god, what happened?” You let your back rest on the wall. The alcohol was still heavily coursing through your veins, intoxicating and addictive.

               Nikki kneeled down in front of you and placed his hands atop your knees. “Well, one of my former band mates decided to call you a few not-nice words and I beat the shit out of him.”

               You stared at him in disbelief. “I know I’m drunk, but I think I would’ve remembered a full-out brawl. What really happened?”

               Nikki sighed and asked to sit by you on the bed, to which you complied. “Let’s just say that I stick up for my friends, and he decided to use a few choice words in front of me. You also told me how he tried to force you to be physical with him.” He clenched his fists and you noticed. “I always felt something was off about him, but I never knew he was that kind of person.”

               You noticed the hurt in his eyes. “Nikki, it’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it, I’m a big girl. I can handle my own problems.”

               That made him chuckle, but only in an endearing way. “I would love to agree, but your alcohol tolerance is garbage.” That made both of you laugh this time. “How about, instead of me trying to surprise you with my amazing bass skills next time, I take you to a restaurant and we actually enjoy each other’s company? Hm?” He slowly reached up and cupped your cheek in one of his hands, smiling gently.

               Your heart began to beat faster, and you could not tell if it was because of the booze in your system or the sweet gesture by Nikki. Either way, there was no way you were going to turn him down.

               “Okay,” you whispered. Your hand covered his, slowly intertwining your fingers. “Can I sleep now?” You didn’t need his permission, but it was an open invitation for him to stay the night rather than sleep on the streets again.

               “Whatever you want.” He scooted closer to you, as close as he could get, and gently placed a peck on your lips. Your heart fluttered, this time for sure caused by him. You let out a quiet sigh, unsure how to process the affectionate act. However important it was, that discussion would be saved for another day. Headaches don’t go away fast enough; sleep is the only answer now.

A/N: I was so worried this was going to be too short of a chapter, but it’s the longest one yet! I decided to stay up late and get this one busted out because a) it’s been more than a week since chapter 2, and b) I work at a Mexican restaurant and this is Cinco de Mayo weekend, so I literally won’t even be on tumblr on my phone let alone my computer to upload a chapter. Wish me luck, and I’ll see you guys in chapter 4!

[cchellacat]

Dancing In The Dark

Love All The Marvel Ships Challenge 

Day Sixteen ~ Dancing

Darcy had been thrown into the past six months ago.  When she had landed here, bruised, bloodied and shaken she had panicked.  She had no ID, no one she could turn to for help and no way home.

Jane had been working on her Bifrost inspired bridge when the explosion occurred.  One-minute Darcy had been throwing herself into Jane's path and pushing her out of the way, and the next she had been engulfed in this wave that had felt as though she were being put through a blender than put back together again.  When she had woken it had been in an abandoned building in London at the height of the Blitz.

According to a newspaper she had procured the date was July 1943.  She had wandered into a hospital shortly after, claiming amnesia.  It hadn’t been a difficult sell, she had after all been dropped from a height when the shock wave that had picked her up during the explosion dumped her here in this time.

After being passed from one person to another and talking to numerous people from different agencies and departments they had cleared Darcy as being stable and sane and well enough to look after herself, even with memory loss.

Being a single woman in this era wasn’t easy, worse still she had no one to help, no friends or money.  She had done the only thing she could and joined the WAC.

They had quickly noted her aptitude for nursing.  Not surprising considering all the mandatory and voluntary courses she had attended as Jane’s sole support staff.  One of them had to know how to deal with potentially life-threatening injuries and, since so often they worked with dangerous machines and sometimes all alone out in the middle of no where, it had made sense for Darcy to pick up a few courses, or ten.

By this point she had become a qualified medic.  It was good being able to use the skills in the here and now of the past.

After the difficult and harrowing six months she had almost become used to her new normal.  A small part of her however still craved home.  She stubbornly tried to stay out of known events or interacting with anyone she had ever read about or heard about, not wanting to take the chance of changing the past.  Who knew what damage she could do without knowing.  So far it had been easy, she was just a lowly nurse, no one special or likely to make waves.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was New Year and some of the other girls had convinced Darcy to come out for a drink with them to celebrate the New Year.  Reluctantly, she had agreed.

So here she was sitting in a dimly lit pub, crowded with people, listening as a small piano and a band played at the back of the room.

The bartender had just set down her drink when she saw him.  Darcy had to stifle the urge to call out his name at the sight of him.  Steve Rogers stool tall and broad just a few feet away, leaning against the bar, his back to her.  She would know him anywhere though.  His silhouette was unmistakable.

Before being thrown back here she and Jane had been working with Stark. They had been given lab space at the compound , which is where Jane was building her own Bifrost.

Darcy’s urge to mother hen anything looking remotely in need had kicked in for most of the Avengers and she had tucked Steve and Bruce and Tony firmly under her wing.  She cooked for them, helped in the labs, made sure they went to bed and worked with Steve on navigating modern culture, social media and the internet.  He had been quickly becoming one of her best friends.

The sharp stab of homesickness buried itself in her gut, she wanted to go home so badly, she missed them all so much.  She had to get out of here.  She paid for her drink, knocked it back and made her excuses to the girls before winding her way through the throng to get out the door.

Just as the door came in sight a man reached out for her.

 “Where are you off to Doll, the good music’s just started?”

Darcy freezes in shock at the words.  She had been waiting her whole life to hear those words.  Waiting patiently, knowing that one day her soulmate would say them to her.  This could not be happening. 

He’s looking at her, waiting for something, but for the first time in her life she can’t speak a word.  He’s so damn pretty too.  Tall, with broad shoulders and the most beautiful eyes, wide and blue and full of mischief.  God, she bet he was a heart breaker.  He turned up the charm and smiled at her as she allowed him to brush his hand down her arm to take her hand in his.

“What do you say sweetheart?  Dance with me before you go?”

The smile he gave her was one part sweet and two parts trouble, but she couldn’t help the tiny sound of amusement that left her mouth or the way her lips curved into a grin of accent.

His smile widened at her acquiesce and he tugged her back towards the dance floor, just as the band began a new song.

He drew her into his arms and she went willingly.  There was no place she would rather be.  Was this why she’d been sent back?  To meet this man who would change her life?  What did it mean for her?  Would she never return home, would she live out her life here with her soulmate?

He held her gently, as if he was afraid to scare her off, there was a respectful distance between their bodies as they danced, but as the music changed, she let herself drift closer until she was pressed up against his strong chest.  She felt safe there, in his arms, his hand placed just a hair too low on her back than was strictly appropriate for the time. 

The song was a sad one, about losing the one you loved, of the hope of meeting them again one day.  She should have figured from that omen right there that this new shiny hope she’d just been presented with was doomed.  But she didn’t know that yet, so she snuggled into his chest, laying her head against his heart and sighed as he rested his cheek in her hair.  For the first time in six months the weight of worry had lifted, all she wanted was to bask in it forever.

Her eyes had closed as she let him lead her through the steps, what there was of them, and so she didn’t see Steve approaching with a sharp eyed Peggy Carter at his side just as the music came to an end.

“Bucky, we’re going to head back to the base.  Are you coming?”

Darcy stepped back from her partners arms at Steve’s voice so close and felt her mouth go dry.

“Hey pal, sure.  Just let me grab my coat.  Doll, you’ll let us walk you back home first, alright?”   

He looked down at her hopefully and she nodded out of panic.  The slowly dawning horror of the situation she finds herself in breaking through.  Bucky.

Her soulmate was Bucky Barnes.  Steve’s best friend.  The one he spoke of to her so often.  The same friend that dies tragically just over a year from now.  She feels the grief clawing at her throat.  All she wants is to find a quiet place to scream and cry at the unfairness of it all.

Then it dawns on her that she’s left standing there with Steve and Peggy Carter.

“I’m sorry ma’am, Bucky has no manners, I’m Steve and this is Peggy.”

On auto pilot Darcy shakes their hands.

“I’m Darcy, it’s lovely to meet you.”

She looks through the crowd where Bucky had gone and comes to a decision.   Perhaps if it had been anyone else, even knowing they were going to die, she would have stayed by them, been with them right to the end.  But there is so much riding on these people.  People who make decisions, life and death decisions every day that shape how the war turns out.   Steve had never mentioned Bucky having a soulmate and to the best of her knowledge he had died, his words still the deep black of those unclaimed.  She can’t be here, can’t love him, can’t have the very thing she wants most, even more than going home to Jane and the others.

Darcy steps back.

“I’m sorry.”  She says to Steve.  “Tell him I’m sorry, but I can’t….  I just….  I am so sorry.  I have to go.”

She turns and pushed through the crowd and manages to make it outside, running as quickly as her feet will take her, till she’d back in her dormitory at the hospital.  She strips shakily and climbs underneath the covers and cries.  She cries till there is nothing left except dry sobs that feel as though her body might break apart from the pain of them.

A week later a portal opens in front of her and she’s suddenly back in the future.  Jane waiting to hug her, apologising over and over about how long it took to get her back.

It’s turns out it’s been fourteen months since she was thrown back in time.  Darcy had a lot of catching up to do.  She throws herself into getting up to date through social media and checks in on the situation with Shield.  That had been a shock, finding out that they had been infiltrated by Hydra, the whole organisation falling apart and Captain America’s role in it….  Darcy felt as though she was still playing catch up.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve is gone for six months after Darcy returns, no one knowing quite what he’s up to, only that he’s looking for something.  So Darcy settles back into her life, helping Jane and Tony and Bruce, working through the deep sadness that assaults her from one day to the next.

When Steve calls in to say he’s coming home, Darcy gets his suite ready for him and two guest suites for the friends he’s bringing.  One of her favourite coping mechanisms is baking.  With Steve returning, the memory of Bucky rears up freshly in her mind.  So she bakes.  Apple pie, Blackberry crumble, Raspberry and Pear strudel.  Muffins of every variety and enough cookies to fill three jars.  She’d just pulled the last pie from the oven when she hears Steve’s voice as he enters the room.

“The kitchen’s through here, every one’s welcome to use it, but you’ll usually find…  Darcy?”

Darcy grins at the shock on Steve’s face.

“I’m back!”  She throws up some jazz hands and laughs at his expression.  He bounds over like the over eager puppy that he is and she shrieks when he picks her up and hugs her.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”  He demands.

“Hey, I tried to get a hold of you but you were the one not returning or accepting calls Cap.”

“Well, I’m really glad you’re home Darcy.  There’s someone I really want you to meet.”

She turns as he smiles over her shoulder, smiling in welcome to whoever he has brought and feels the world fall out from under her.

For months she had dreamt of him, of his face, of his smile, of eyes bluer and deeper than the sea.  She had thought that she would never look on him again.  That that one night when she had danced in his arms and for a brief moment believed she might have found something wonderful, something forever, that it was the only time she would ever have with him again.

Now she stands in the future, her future and he is there.  Real and alive and so very, very present.  She can’t feel her fingers or her toes, then her vision starts to frey at the edges.   Everything narrows to one point, his eyes, looking into hers.  The last thing she registers is the expression in them turning from shock at seeing her to fright.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve tracking him down had probably been inevitable, he’d just crossed into Romania when Steve and Sam caught up with him.  He’d been ready to bolt when Steve had called out to him, it had just been a name.  One he’d never even had from the lips of the dame it belonged to.  But it had been enough to stop him in his tracks.  It had been enough for him to listen to them.

There were still too many gaps in his memory, whole years gone that he would probably never get back but he remembered meeting her.

New Year 1944, he’d been a hole in the wall pub, in London.   It had been a good night, the music had been playing and he’d danced with plenty of pretty gals.  Then he’d seen her, sitting at the bar, knocking back a drink before hopping down off a stool, leaving in  a hurry. 

She had been wearing a dark blue dress, nothing flashy, but she had moved with purpose, her hips swaying, shoulders back, her dark hair held back from her face with pearl clips, her lips painted crimson.   She’d looked lost for someone so set on going somewhere, and he’d been unable to resist stopping her, asking her to dance.

At first, he’d thought she would refuse but she hadn’t.  She had stood rooted to the spot, looking at him like she couldn’t believe he existed.  Looked at him like he mattered.  There had been a pull within him to charm her, hold her close, get to know who she was. 

They had danced slowly through two songs and by the end of it he had known that nothing and no one, would ever feel as right and good in his arms as she did.  He’d only left for a minute to get his coat.  When he came back, she was gone. 

He had looked for her, but he’d never seen her again.  He and Steve had manged to track her down to St Bart’s Hospital, where she worked, about two weeks later.  One of the other nurses had told them she’d went missing just a few days before.

She had never spoke to him.   Steve had told him what she’d said before she left that night and he had known then.  Known why she had left so quickly.  She was running from him because she knew what he was to her.  At first he’d been angry about it, but the longer he thought it over the more he came to see why she had done it.  She had been afraid to speak because if she had, it would have been real.  She would have said his words and then she would have lost him.  Turns out she had been right.

Steve shouting her name to him made him stop.  Then Steve had brought out his phone and handed it to him.  There she was, smiling into the camera, her eyes bright with laughter.  That was what had made him come back.  The promise, the possibility that he would find her again.

Steve had explained about the accident that had caused her disappearance from this time, that had sent her back to their past.  That Doctor Foster was working on bringing her back, that he was certain that the her sudden disappearance in 1944 had been Doc Foster bringing her back to her future.  So he’d followed his old pal back to the States, hoping for a miracle.  Hoping that what he had thought all those years ago was the truth.

Then they were there, standing in the slick looking modern kitchen in Upstate New York, the girl he’d dreamed about, about to greet him after seventy years.

He watches as she smiles automatically at him before she recognises him.  The way her hands flare out in front of her, shaking as her face drains of colour and her smile falls as her eyes widen in shock.  He knows what’s about to happen before she suddenly drops like a puppet with its strings cut.

He catches her before she can hurt herself, scooping her up easily and snapping at Steve for dropping it on her like that.  He at least knew what he might be walking into.

A few minutes later, unable to let her go now he’s found her again, she slowly comes too, held in his arms, her blue eyes full of surprised elation, tears beginning to gather as she takes in her knew reality.

 “I can’t believe you’re here, I thought you were dead!”

He grins at her stupidly, pressing his head to hers.

“You said my words.”

“You said mine first.”  She retorts, tone both apologetic scolding.

He feels complete, like all the missing pieces of him have been filled with a light that he’d lost long ago.  It was her light, making him whole again, driving some of the darkness away.

Darcy wipes at her tears and reaches out to him, touching his face, hand still shaking form shock, but he’s real and alive.  His stubble scratching her fingertips, she brings them to his lips and he kisses them gently.  He lowers her to her feet, but she throws her arms around his neck and clings, the reality hitting her as she cries into his neck.

She’s not sure how long he holds there, but she knows that Sam and Steve leave them be, giving them the privacy they need.  She had thought he was gone, had tried to process that loss only to find him again.  She doesn’t understand how he’s here, it doesn’t matter, all that does is that he is.

“I’m here Doll, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”  He tells her.  That’s when she realises she has been muttering out loud, all the fear that’s been wrapped up inside her that he’ll disappear again.

“I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“I can’t believe you are.  I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”  He tells her.  She can hear the same pain in his voice that she knows carries in her own.

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew, you never said a word, but I knew.  Never felt anything else so right in my life as dancing with you Doll.”

“Neither have I.”  she whispers into his chest as he kisses the top of her head.

It’s going to be alright now.  Everything is going to be fine.  All she can feel is him, all around her, putting all the jagged broken pieces back together again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.  Now can we try this again, we never were properly introduced?”  She looks up in confusion as he lets her go.

“My name’s James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

Darcy laughs and holds out her hand.

“Darcy Lewis, I’m your soulmate.”

He takes her hand and bows over it, giving it a kiss.  It’s the beginning, and not the end, of a very happy story.

NEXT

@captain-rogers-beard

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 2

Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face... Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: PTSD, thievery, death (implied).

A/N: Hello rabbit hole. How the fuck did I go from, “I’m going to write a smutty ass fic,” to well there’s a whole story, with lot’s of background, and pain, and feelings in like NO time?! There will be smut but there’s apparently gonna be some fluff, some emotional shit, and some touch starved/let’s help each other heal shit too. Who am I?

Word Count: 1381

Tags are open!

You want nothing more than to disappear into your scarf, just fall into your shell like a turtle. But you know you have to keep your head up, look normal, be vigilant. The museum rises up in front of you, it’s stunning facade somehow comforting. Beautiful buildings always inspired Y/N. But she was gone. ‘We can have similar interests,’ you think pushing away the ghost of your former self.

It’s Friday and the museum has just opened but there are enough people to make you feel at ease with your plan. Some tourists and two groups of rowdy school kids. ‘Perfect.’ You slide near a gathering of fourteen tourists who, from the sound of it, are Danish.

The cheery museum worker hands you a headset without a second thought, smiling brightly, and, gives you an appreciative once-over. ‘Girl must have a thing for vagabond-chic.’ She seems young and you hope she’s got a good friend to help her polish her taste in men.

You follow the group a few paces behind, observe where the men’s wallets are, what women have purses without zippers and plan your strategy. Bucharest is done, but you need funds to get out and tourists always have cash and in places like museums, a false sense of security.

As you pass the incredible skeletons your mind wanders to the Soldier. You’d caught wind that he’d vanished after the incident. Given his rap sheet, you have no doubt he has more than Hydra on his ass if that’s the case. But he was their star, the crown jewel of their murderous menagerie, you can’t imagine why he’d go rogue. Though there was that time-

A young woman slips on the tile and careens into you bringing you back to the task at hand. “Undskyld! Undskyld! (Sorry! Sorry!)”

“It’s ok,” you respond in Danish brandishing a smile. Knowing almost every language in modern usage may be the one good thing to come out of this nightmare.

“Oh,” she smiles awkwardly as you hand her tote back. You knew she’d assumed you were a man, that responding in a distinctly feminine voice would throw her even more than her slip. You also know that this is all the distraction you need to pull her wallet up, out, and under your jacket. Weaponizing gender norms, Nix would be proud. “Thank you!” Without a second thought, she strolls back to her friends, not wanting to linger.

You continue the museum tour for a bit without lifting anything else, not wanting to push it. The woman running into you was, despite your previous thoughts on the subject, lucky. Biding your time is best. 

In the marine life exhibit the hall is narrow and dim, everything awash in blue light. You’re bummed to be leaving this city, this museum alone with it’s winding corridors is a gold mine.

One of the Danish men pulls his phone out of his pocket, his money clip peeks up for just a moment and wouldn’t you know it just falls out and silently into your hand. A British man who’s group was already in the hall lost his wallet, shit luck that. Spoils in tow it’s easy enough to slip away unnoticed and duck into the men’s restroom.

A decent enough haul, about $300 Romanian Leu and $250 Euro. You’d certainly done worse. The money clip also seems to be gold so you hold onto it. The Brits wallet you let fall to the bathroom floor and as you casually stroll back past the mastodon on your way out you let the woman’s wallet float silently near where you’d collided. You may be a thief but you know getting around a foreign country without your ID is difficult and don’t want to cause them anymore issues. You’ll take any good karma you can eek out.

The thought of leaving the museum makes your mouth go dry. Romania seemed unassuming enough. After Berlin, you thought the typical European locals were too risky but you needed to be in a city where a stranger could go unnoticed. Was there really no place safe from Hydra… was running worth it?

Steeling yourself you step into the crisp day. Kiseleff Park is right by the museum and it seems as good a choice as any. You go far enough away as to not be seen by the tourists when they exit but not so far as to be away from public view and lounge on a bench. If they wanted you dead they could probably hit you here but if they want to take you in, this is too public. It wouldn’t be impossible of course but given the bind Hydra’s in it would certainly be too inconvenient.

You let your sixth sense slither down the legs of the bench. The screws securing it to the concrete are rusty but you’re pretty certain you can weaponize it if necessary. Down the bench, to the sidewalk, you feel out the cracks in the concrete surrounding you, easy enough to break it up and hurl it. The trash can to your back left is metal, the posts that make up the barrel can be pulled apart and used as projectiles. Even the lamppost about six feet away would be useful in a pinch.

‘What a good attack dog you will be,’ that voice slithers from the recesses of this morning’s dream. They were so impressed at your ability to think on your feet, to get out of a bind even if they were the bind…

You stop yourself. Don’t want to give him power in your waking hours, he has enough of that when your body demands sleep like the traitor it is. You fish your shattered phone from your pocket and give the surrounding area one last look over before trying to plot your next course.

The money from today would be more than enough to get you to the coastal city of Constanta, but from there you’d be partially surrounded by water. While living the rest of your days on a boat sounds kind of perfect you aren’t exactly a sea fairing woman and considering that the Black Sea is bordered by some pretty unstable regions, it’s best to not. You’ve got about $700 Leu between today and what’s in your squat, that may be enough to get a shitty car, or you could steal one. Maybe drive to Croatia.

The thought sends a pain shooting through your chest. The last Friendsgiving you had with them you’d convinced everyone that Croatia belonged on your group travel list, showing them photos you’d pinned and talking about how enchanting it looked when Anthony Bourdain went. You’d even priced hotels and flights just to show how y’all could make it work.

A single tear catches between your sunglasses and cheekbone and you quickly brush it away before you map the distance. Fourteen hours. You could do that without stopping. Ditch the car on some back road and walk to the city of your choice. You swallow the sob bubbling up your throat. There’s no point in tears now. You’re going on for them. They are gone because of you. It would be selfish to throw away the life you have, no matter how shitty it is when they don’t get to live theirs anymore. You can weep for them in the ocean they never got to see but not here on this fucking bench.

You slump over, take one ragged breath, then another. Dig your fingers into your thighs. Try to ground yourself in your body. And look up.

He’s across the street. Openly staring at you with no cover whatsoever. ‘Pretty shitty for an assassin,’ you think and you’re once again hit with the feeling of difference about him. He seems almost wilted. That doesn’t matter. Hydra will do anything to get at you. What better than to position someone like him here to get close, make you think you’re on the same struggle. An excellent way to break you down.

Suddenly you’re ready. If they want to play you’ll play. You take your glasses off and hook them on the neck of your shirt. Slowly you lift your face and meet those eyes. Unblinking you stand and walk away. You know he’ll follow.

________________________

I know, I know. So much world building. But I guess you just write the fic you like right? Bucky and the Reader meet next and honestly... I’m way too into it. 

[pherryt]

Destiel 28. ‘Stop texting me weird stuff at night.’

This got long. i had this idea but to reach it required so much...i hope you like it.  the rest of it is under the cut

word count 2198

Deangroggily blinked his eyes open and rolled over with a groan. He peered blearilyat his clock and groaned again. His phone – the reason he was awake – chirpedand he sighed, groping at his bedside table for the cursed thing.

Hethumbed it open to find a text from Cas. As usual. Not a night passed that hisbest friend didn’t text Dean at least once – usually about the most inanethings.

Hehadn’t minded so much when they were younger, when his ability to fall backasleep at the drop of a hat was a well-honed godsend that he’d taken forgranted.

Well,not anymore. He would never take it for granted ever again should that skillreturn. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep and itwas driving him insane, he was sure of it. As much as he loved Cas – somethinghe’d been hiding for at least the last 8 years – come one morning, Dean wasgoing to take a hammer to his phone and then it simply wouldn’t be a problemanymore.

Cas 1:23AM: Did you know that when the Trex animatronic for Jurassic Parkmalfunctioned, it looked like it was alive?

Cas 1:23AM: It did that a lot in the rain which, as you know, was highly crucial forthat iconic scene.

Dean: 1:25AM: Normally Id be all 4 random movie trivia but Cas I need sleep

Dean: 1:26AM: Tell me 2morrow

Cas: 1:26AM: Of course, Dean

Thenext night was the same at almost exactly the same time. And the night afterthat, and the night after that, just like it had been for years before.

“Deandid you know – “

“Iread the other day –“

“Isn’tit amazing how –“

Deancursed the invention of cell phones and his need to keep it nearby foremergencies. During the day, Cas’s texts were a welcome thing but at night hewas losing sleep because of them. After a particularly long day – hell, afucking long week, with his alarm set for way too fucking early in the morning– Dean readied himself for bed. He had a crucial meeting in the morning and hewas so damn exhausted.

Hewas asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Ofcourse, Dean didn’t get to stay asleep. His phone chirped once, twice, threetimes before he fumbled for it. Without even checking Cas’s messages, he simplytyped out.

Dean 2:06AM: Stop texting me weird stuff at night, man – I really need to fucking sleep

Dean 2:06AM: And I can’t do that if you won’t leave me alone

Hedropped the phone to the table and rolled over, firmly closing his eyes. Guiltwracked him and kept him awake, however. He hated being so short with Cas buthe needed to sleep. Cas would understand. Right?

Thephone was blessedly quiet, but it was too late.

Nomatter how long he lay there, Dean couldn’t fall asleep.

Hespent his entire day in a foul mood and a sleepy haze. His coffee maker was broken and when he stopped atDunkin’s he didn’t get two sips of it before he spilled it all over himself andthe Impala. The early morning meeting was nearly a disaster. Only quickthinking on Bobby’s part saved the deal. He dropped his tool box on his footand – well, the day didn’t get much better from there.

Thenext day didn’t pass any better. Despite the fact that Cas didn’t text oncethat night, or the next, Dean found he couldn’t sleep. Between 1 and 2 am,Dean woke with a start, convinced he’d forgotten something very important.

After3 more days of this, it dawned on him that he not only had not heardfrom Cas in the wee hours of the morning as Dean had requested (Demanded wasmore like), but not at any other point of the day either. And Dean missed hisbest friend terribly. It contributed to Dean’s increasingly foul mood and his ever-increasingsleepless nights.

Whyhadn’t Cas messaged him?

Thenagain, why hadn’t Dean?

Dean 3:38PM: Hey dude – movie & pizza nite 2nite? My treat

Dean 4:32PM: U in or what?

Dean 5:17PM: Hey buddy, u Ok? Havent heard from u in a while

Hetyped out the words “I miss you” and deleted them before hitting send at thelast minute, then opening a new text, to Cas’s brother.

Dean 5:20 PM: Hey, is Cas ok?

Ashe waited for a response, so many things ran through his head of what couldhave happened to Cas in the few brief days they hadn’t talked. Or that maybeCas was mad at him. What if Dean had ruined their friendship for good?

Thatthought had him hyperventilating and he had to shove it away.

Gabriel 5:21PM: Why don’t you pull your head of your ass and ask him yourself.

Gabriel 5:21PM: I’m not my brother’s keeper. That’s your job.

Gabriel 5:21PM: Now for the love of god, kiss and make up already. I need my sleep.

Deanstared at his phone. “Well, that was uncalled for,” he grumped aloud to theempty room. What had that been all about? Gabriel made itsound like he and Cas had broken up, but if Dean were dating anybody –especially Cas – he sure as hell would have known that. Had Cas really beenthat upset with Dean? Was it really that bad that Dean just wanted a singlenight worth of uninterrupted sleep? Seriously?

Themore he thought about it, the more it bothered him, till he stood up, grabbedhis jacket and his keys, shoved his feet into his boots and left. 20 minuteslater, he was standing in front of Cas’s door with 2 boxes of pizza and a sixpack. He shuffled till he could use his hand to knock and did so.

Therewas silence for a while and Dean knocked again, wondering if this had been agood idea. There wasn’t even any guarantee that Cas was home (He worked fromhome. He had to be home) and he hadn’t answered any of Dean’s texts.

Deanknocked for a third time and finally he heard movement. He breathed a sigh ofrelief that lasted only as long as it took for Cas to open the door.

“Fuck!You look like shit!” he blurted.

“Thankyou. So do you.” Cas’s voice was flat as he opened the door further. He didn’tmove out of the way. “What are you doing here?”

“Look,wanted to apologize for the other night and hey, man, I missed ya! So what doyou say? Pizza? Beers? Netflix?” Dean waggled his eyebrows at Cas and the smallhint of a smile appeared as the man let him in.

Deantoed off his boots and didn’t even bother bringing anything in to the kitchen.He headed straight for the couch and placed the boxes and the beers on the beat-upcoffee table. Netflix was already on, and it looked like Cas had been binge-watching…Deansquinted at the tv…Reality TV? Oh boy, things were worse than he thought.

Hesat on the couch beside Cas who was already curled up in a blanket and a sliceof pizza – sans plates – in his hand. The man looked exhausted, ragged. Deanknew he kept his own hours. Being able to work from home helped with that, butwhat the hell?

“Dude,haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Notreally. What about you?”

“God,I’d kill for a decent night’s sleep. I can’t remember the last time I had one.”

“So…mytexting at odd hours…when I stopped…?”

“Didn’tfucking help. Now I wake up waiting for them. Isn’t that weird? I wake up andstare at the ceiling and I can’t even get back to sleep afterwards. At leastwhen you texted me I could fall back asleep.” Dean admitted with a sigh, grabbing two of thebeers. He used the coffee table to pop the tops off and handed one over to Cas.“It didn’t help a damnbit, so, you can, y’know, if you want…”

“Dean, are you’re sayingyou missed me?” Cas said, his mouth full of pizza as his other hand acceptedthe beer.

“Dude,you must be more tired than I am. I said that when I walked in,” Dean took aswig of his own bottle, stillcold since he’d just picked it up. “Look, I know why I’m tired. What about you?And what was Gabriel talking about? That he needed sleep?”

“You texted my brother?” Cas blinked atDean in surprise. Dean blushed.

“You weren’t answerin’, Cas. I was uh…alittle concerned,” Dean said, not looking at Cas. He took a huge bite of hispizza.

Despite his attempts to not look, Deanstill caught Cas looking at him incredulously out of the corner of his eyes. “Haven’tyou ever wondered why I send you messages at all hours of the day?”

“Um…no? I mean, its what you’ve alwaysdone, so I just…it’s you,” Dean said,his words garbled because of the pizza. He turned to face Cas. “I just came toexpect it. Hell, most of the time, I was really looking forward to it. One ofyour crazy texts can turn a bad day right side up again. I just…I thought that’show it was.” Dean ended the statement slowly, swallowing the lump of cheese,dough and sauce in his throat. “Cas, is something wrong?”

If he’d felt guilty before, Dean feltextra guilty now. The way Cas had asked the question had made Dean reevaluate everythingin a flash. It was odd, now that he thought about it, to be texting or callingat any hour. Even though Dean knew Cas kept his own hours…when did he sleep?

Cas shook his head and smiled. “No,everything’s fine. Just been a rough few days, that’s all.” After that, thematter dropped and the two of them ate their pizza and watched Netflix.

Dean didn’t know what time it was whenhe jerked awake. The room was dark and there was something warm on top of him.He pulled the warmth closer, realizing as it shifted that it wasn’t his blanket,but Cas. They were both so fucking tired, they’d fallen asleep on the couch. Hestifled a laugh. He wasn’t sure what to do. He felt awkward basically cuddlinga man that didn’t know Dean had a crush on him. But on the other hand, he didn’twant to wake cas up. It was obvious that he needed his sleep as much as Deandid. As he debated the idea, Dean’s heavy eyelids drifted shut, his bodytabling the dilemma for now.

A jerking motion had him waking upagain, much later, according to the clock, about 1am. Dean’s grip on Cas tightenedand then he heard it – Cas was breathing hard, small whimpers pulling from histhroat.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was still sleepy,but concerned. Rolling carefully, Dean tried to peer into his face. “Cas, areyou all right?” Dean reached a hand up to touch Cas’s face and his friends eyesflew open on a gasp. He jerked back and would have fallen off the narrow couchsave for Dean’s quick reflexes. He rolled to his back, bringing Cas with him,helping him settle face own on top of Dean. Cas groaned and let his head thunkon Dean’s chest.

After a moment, he tilted it to peer atDean apologetically. “I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to wake you. I know you’retired – “

“Dude…I saw the clock – do you wake upat this time every night like this?”

“Not…always…” Cas’s eyes slid away. “SometimesI’m already awake. Or…”

“Or?” Dean prodded.

“It uh…happens a lot. Sometimes a fewtimes a night.” Cas admitted slowly. Dean wondered if he would have, if he’dbeen rested.

“Shit, no wonder you look exhausted! Howlong - ?”

“Since I was a child. And no, going tothe doctor didn’t help. Taking sleeping pills doesn’t help either. It’s just…baddreams, old memories,” Cas said tiredly, sadly. Without even realizing it, Dean’shand started stroking Cas’s back and he watched those sleepy eyes start to droop.

“Does anything help?”

“Mhmm,” Cas said.

“What do you need?”

“Fss,” Cas said.

“What?” Dean blinked and strained hisears. That was certainly not English, he was sure of it.

“Jus’ you,” Cas mumbled a littleclearer. “’s always been you.”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat and hisnext breath was shaky. “Wait, is that why you always—”

“Mhmm,” Cas curled into Dean a littlecloser, completely unaware of how he’d taken the mans breath away by that one,simple sound. He continued to run a soothing hand along Cas’s spine and stareddown at the man quickly falling back asleep in his arms. “Don’ leave me…”

The last words came out slow and softand Dean almost missed them. His heart ached and he swallowed thickly. “Never,Cas. I promise.”

[awhilesince]

Wednesday, 26 November 1828

Wednesday 26

6

11 25/60

Went out at 7 35/60 — with Mosey letting out the railing of the Cunnery brow to be ordered to the plantation and planted with oaks — then with Throp planting and the 2 wallers holing in the Cunnery plantation — came in at 9 1/2 — wet of my feet etc.

changing my things — breakfast from 9 3/4 to 10 1/2 — Letter 3 pages and ends dated yesterday from M— (Marianna) Scarbro’ — Dr B— (Belcome) buried at 10 on Monday morning — Steph and Mr Charles L— (Lawton) chief mourners — 8 of the principal gents (gents/gentlemen) of the town bearers — 3 mourning coaches and 8 gents’s (gents/gentlemen’s) carriages “most of the tradespeople attended in mourning and Charles said the church rows very full of respectable people — Mrs B—’s (Belcombe’s) income independent of Clifton £409 per annum that cannot be reckoned at less than £200 a year and surely on this with “Harriet’s £160 they may all do very well” …. “I mentioned the £200 I had saved for William, which I said he might have next “June that I meant to give Duncan £50 to receive in India, and that I thought it was all that I could promise — such information “was very little expected, and was I must say, gratefully received by all parties” … does not think William will live “he cannot sit “up more than a few minutes, and some of the wounds are still unhealed” — meant to have left Scarbro’ on Thursday (tomorrow) “so little difficulty in making a decent alteration” … will continue there till next Monday — week, and then stay (1) or 2 in York — can I be ready by that time? — Note from Mr Wilbraham — think the rules excellent — make no alteration — mention of my misunderstanding with Mrs B— (Belcombe) on repeating the words “my mother never wished to see you again” all were in astonishment — Ann did not remember writing any such message if she did write it, declares “she must have been drunk or mad” — Mrs B— (Belcombe) “declared such an idea never entered her head, that on reading your message she said “tell Miss Lister that we shall some time meet again, meaning by that her manner when you did meet would convince you that the thing was forgotten” …. “my mother was mortified by your manner at Mr D—’s (Duffin’s) and thought you had no “inclination to forget, and consequently when you next met at Steph’s trying to make her manners as like yours as she could I really think my Freddy there has been a great and uncomfortable mistake, for all disown every intention of saying or writing anything that could be otherwise than conciliatory — whatever answer you send to this part of my letter I shall shew” — “Charles and Steph left us at 12 today. The former will meet us at Manchester” — 

Letter also from Miss MacL— (MacLean) (Whitehall London) 3 pages and the ends dated the 23rd instant — good account of herself — bids me not mind about Cameron, but sorry I have got a servant threatened with consumption — to propose her to Vere woud never do — can do without her — a nice girl at the lodging she is going to 1 December — why do I talk of a lodging here or there — shall I not be with her? — “as you do not choose to take any notice of and eventual “remarks I made in my letter of late which you are not so stupid as not fully to comprehend, I shall in future prevent my pen from touching on such a subject but I am much annoyed not by any presumption only anxious for his ssake to be soon dismissed this of course only to yourself I shall write not more on the subject and at range enough it is that this young man should be so in love with her or connexions surely it must be I do not understand it — “I shall now tell you all — he will tell you all has discovered — if you and he understand one another as I expect you will - she seems to have lost her watch and seals — Mr Long has had a “severe blow from his horse’s head this morning — but had infallible application his I hope prevented inflammation” — …. “It must be merit of no common kind that can overcome manners and appearance such as his together with a bad stutter, lisp and brogue which you will judge of soon — his manners I am sure will surprise you at first” — hopes to be well in six weeks “tho’ he shakes his head when I say so” — asks if thinking of her health as I do, and shall be afraid to “run the risk” of having her in Paris — better say so now than afterwards — she can spend the remainder of the winter with Mrs Hunter in Edinborough and then go home — Mr Long “thinks under the blessing of providence that my original excellent constitution will presently be restored — I do not doubt it myself” — Miss H— (Hobart) asked her to write on some subjects relating to Mr Long “and to send her a paper in which a violent attack was made on him — I granted her request, and tho’ she has twice written to me, I have no intention of keeping up a correspondence — she is an excellent and sensible person but I have nothing more to Do with her” — had left off her wigs — Mr Long detests them — “says they are the dirtiest things in the world — keep in disease etc. etc.” — 

Kind letter from Mrs James Dalton (Croft) 3 pages the ends and 2/3 the first page crossed — nothing particular —

having read my letter went upstairs at 10 1/2 — put on my old pelisse and things again — afterwards Greenwood came about the wood — went out with him at 10 3/4 — told him about the Sheep croft — He had begun to turn it into a timber yard without knowing whether I would take the £10 a year offered or not — told him to see Mr Briggs, and then I would decide — should never allow any steward to let for me, except with my expressive directions so to Do — £10. not enough — said it was worth £20 — He said he could have had a field near twice the breadth of ground for £20 — I said as for that I did not mean to charge him the full worth — he had it on uncertain tenure — to be given up at another time — He said he had begun to make his saw-pit, but would leave it to my honour — he would willingly split the difference —well! said I — you shall have it then from this Xmas (Christmas) rent day to next Xmas rent day at £10, and then afterwards shall pay £15/ per annum — he thanked me, and said he was much obliged, seeming very well satisfied — I see Mr Briggs is not to altogether to be trusted with letting the church pews ought to be raised — went to look at the wood lying in the Cunnery brow, Pump Lane, and Lower Brook Ing wood — the lot valued at £5.2.0 or £5.4.0 (ready money) he said was cheap enough —  I said the chap was ready, so he must give me some little advice — I said £5.10.0 — He said no — he would give me £5.12.0 — Asked what he thought it really worth — he said £7 — well! said I, that is right to say so — I am quite satisfied for you to have a good bargain — He said, he had looked at the 3 trees at Northgate — cheap enough at £4.11.0 (William K— (Knight) said they were done up to the height) he would give ten guineas for the whole and pay tonight if I would send John down, and lead away on Monday — John to go tomorrow evening for the money — so that he gives me 7/. over at the Northgate lot, and 10/. over at the other — Told me my Southowram stone he had heard was worth 7/. a yard — but would advise me to sell it by ticket and always to have 2 values, and take the medium between them and then stock to that price, and take no less — went back to the Cunnery plantation about 11 1/2 — set Throp and Nathan Sharpe to get up a beech — all our men and 2 horses snigged out the trees —at 12 55/60 had Mosey and his companion to fell some more firs at the top of the plantation and kept them doing (boughing also) till — Throp and the 2 wallers 1 1/4 hour at dinner — said it was too long these short days — must limit them to 1/2 hour — get the beech (sledged it on the little sledge with shafts) set in the Allen car (near the top in front of the house) at 4 1/2 — put[ting] well get up — hope it will do well — Throp seven more weeping wilows this morning making in all 15 — Told Mosey I would have 10 of the holes made in the morning left, and 10 more made  — his charge for this at 1 1/2 per hole = 1/3 — himself 2 half days and his partner one hole at 3/6 per day and 6 d. allowed for drinkings = 6/. would make no change for felling the few trees 2 mornings some days back, but said I would give him something to Drink for it — 

came in at 5 1/4  — dressed — Looked out M—s (Marianna’s) letter containing on one of the ends the message from Mrs B— (Belcombe) “Scarbro’ 31 March 1826 — Harriet did give your “message to my mother — she read it herself, and returned H— (Harriet) the letter, saying “probably Miss L— (Lister) and I may never meet again, ’tis better we should not” Ann told me this — She has” (meaning Mrs B— (Belcombe)) never mentioned your name to me, tho’ I have “given her opportunities” — (vide line 12 from the bottom of page185) Some difference between these 2 messages as stated now and in March 1826! 

Dinner at 6 1/4 — afterwards wrote the whole of today — Rather rainy and drizzly this morning — occasional rain after breakfast and more especially rain and drizzle towards 5 — after dinner; about 9, very heavy rain — came upstairs at 10 20/60 — still raining heavily — from the bottom line 12, page 185.

(SH:7/ML/E/11/0097) (SH:7/ML/E/11/0098)

https://www.catalogue.wyjs.org.uk/CalmView/Record.aspx?src=CalmView.Catalog&id=CC00001%2f7%2f9%2f6%2f11%2f97&pos=1

https://www.catalogue.wyjs.org.uk/CalmView/Record.aspx?src=CalmView.Catalog&id=CC00001%2f7%2f9%2f6%2f11%2f98&pos=1

[omgbananasnailus]

You’ll Never Be Alone!! Part 10 - Daryl Dixon x Reader Fanfic -

So here is the final part (Well i think it is) I think its at a good part to leave it, i may add parts to it in the future but that depends on you guys really. Its a lot longer than the others and contains a lot of SMUT so be warned. Which it is my first time writing in a fic so my apologies if its appalling lol.

hope you all like it :)

As always links to previous parts are below :)

Part One        Part Two        Part Three         Part Four        Part Five

Part Six         Part Seven         Part Eight         Part Nine  

It had been four long days since Daryl, Rick, T-Dog and Shane had left to bring back Glenn and Maggie, an with each day that passed the tension around the prison grew. I tried my hardest to keep my mind off them and how dangerous it was what they were doing. I helped Carol and Lori around the prison and did extra shifts standing watch up in the tower.

Although being on watch wasn't the best activity when trying to distract yourself, as id find myself just staring out across the field watching for any signs of Daryl's bike or the pick up.

The only thing that seemed to keep me from going too crazy was the memory of how Daryl had been before he'd left, an the possibility that he could actually feel the same way as I did. All I needed was for him to come back in one piece and I'd find out.

It was late, Carol had just taken over from me in the tower so that I could try and get some rest, which I desperately needed. Walking into my cell I found Beth laying in her bunk staring up at the underside of mine. Her eyes looked glassy like she was trying her hardest to hold in tears.

"They'll bring them back" I said kneeling down beside her.

"What if-"

"You can't think like that" I said cutting her off mid sentence "Glenn will keep Maggie safe" I gave her hair a quick stroke before standing back up.

"Thank you" Beth whispered, her voice indicting the tears had finally won.

I climbed up onto my bunk and laid down stretching to get comfortable.

"We could sing something if you want" I asked. I wasn't really in the mood to do anything but sleep but I couldn't let her be alone and I knew singing calmed her.

"No it's okay....Thank you though" the springs on her mattress creaked signalling that she's got out of bed "I'm gonna go and find my dad" she smiled before exiting our cell.

I let out a sigh, mentally commanding Daryl and the others to get back here soon before closing my eyes.

The next morning I did the very same thing I'd done the last four mornings. No sooner were my eyes open I was out into the main room searching for any sign that they'd got back while I'd been sleeping, an just like every other morning there was nothing. Pushing away the disappointment, I quickly freshened myself up before heading outside to Dale who was stood at the edge of the tower watching out along the road.

"They should be back now Y/N" he said as I reached the top joined him in searching the distance.

"They'll be back soon" I tried to sound convincing. "Why don't you go get some rest.....I'll keep watch"

Dale nodded, giving my shoulder a light squeeze in thanks before heading down.

I watched as Dale made his way up back towards the prison, glad that I didn't have to keep up my upbeat attitude. I was really starting to worry now and I honestly didn't know how long I would be able to hide it from everyone else.

Turning back I looked out towards the road, my eyes caught sight of something in the distance.

Were they playing tricks on me, or was there really something coming along the road.

"DALE!!" I shouted getting his attention just before he entered the prison. "THEY'RE COMING"

I watched as the cars pulled through the gate. My eyes automatically searching for Daryl's bike but it wasn't there. My worry increasing as Dale closed the gate behind them.

Where was he?

I climbed down from the tower and quickly  made my way over to the parked cars just as Rick was slamming the boot of one closed, his arms full of bags.

"Where's Daryl?" I asked searching Rick's face for any sort of clue.

He stopped when he saw me, lowering his bags til they were on the floor at his feet.

"Where's Daryl....Rick?" I was beginning to panic "He's not......." I couldn't finish the sentence. This couldn't be happening! Not again!

Rick shook his head furiously "No, no, no.....He's not dead Y/N"

My hand flew up to my chest in relief as I let out a breath i didn't even know id been holding. He wasn't dead!!

"Then where is he?"

"We found Merle" Rick stated watching me.

"Oh my god!! Really!?! That's brilliant" I laughed nervously. This was amazing news....Daryl had found his brother. But there was something in the way Rick was looking at me that told me that it wasn't such a great thing as I seemed to think it was.

"You have to understand Y/N that Merle's done some pretty horrible stuff" he said pointing to his right. I followed his finger to where Glenn stood propped up against the pick up as Dale and Maggie checked him over. His face was battered and bruised with dried blood trailing from his nose and mouth. My hand shot up to my mouth in horror,  from how bad his face looked I could only imagine what the rest of him looked like.

"Oh God!! Glenn are you okay??" I asked starting towards him but a hand on my shoulder stopped me. I turned to find it was Rick.

"I couldn't let him come back to the group Y/N" Rick explained "I couldnt let him be near Sophia and Carl.........Or you or the rest of the group, I had to think of everyone's safety"

I nodded completely understanding why he couldnt allow Merle back, but stupidly I still couldn't seem to understand what this had to with Daryl........Then it clicked.

"He's......he's gone with Merle.......hasn't he?" I was afraid of the answer.

Rick nodded giving my shoulder a light squeeze.

And like that all the hope for Daryl feeling the same way vanished.

I nodded slowly trying to take in what Rick was telling me. Daryl had left............He wasn't coming back.........An what made it so much worse was that it had been his choice.

I turned away from Rick in shock an mindlessly started to make my way back up to the tower.

"Y/N....?"

I turned hearing my name to find Rick jogging up behind me. "It's okay.....You go inside, one of us with take watch"

I nodded lowering my head not wanting to see the look of pity across his face.

By the time I’d reached the prison door the fog had lifted somewhat and the hurt I felt had replaced with anger. Anger for him just going, an for him making promises he had no intention of keeping.

An then the guilt kicked in, when I realised I’d just left my beaten up friend back at the car and not even tired to help.

"Shit!" I cursed turning around and jogging back down the hill to Glenn who was now limping up towards the prison, his arms hung over Rick's and Maggie's shoulders for support.

"Can I help?" I asked as I reached them, giving Glenn an apologetic smile.

"Can you take over here" Rick asked slowly ducking out from under Glenn's arm before helping me take his place. "I need to sort some stuff out..........He needs to get to Hershel" he called disappearing behind us.

I didn't watch to see where Rick had gone, concentrating only on getting Glenn to Hershel as fast as possible.

"Are you okay?" Glenn mumbled, his voice muffled by the swelling to his jaw.

I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped my lips "Glenn.........With how you look at the moment, are you really asking how I am?"

"I know how much you care about Daryl though" he winced slightly.

"Your my first priority" I smiled back at him. Typical Glenn, always thinking of others before himself.

As soon as we entered the cell block everyone crowded round relieved to see Glenn and Maggie alive.

"Where's Rick?" Lori asked as soon as she saw us.

"Everyone's outside" I answered guiding Glenn around the table and through to the cells.

"DADDY!!" Maggie called.

Hershel came rushing from out of his cell, the smile of relief at seeing his daughter soon disappeared when his eyes took in Glenn's appearance.

"Bring him in here" he commanded moving out of the way so that we could lower him onto his bunk.

I left them to it and went back into the main room to find Rick and the others had come inside and were emptying the bags onto the table. I watched as Carol walked up to Rick and quietly asked him where Daryl was. Quickly before everyone found out and started to give me the same looks of pity Rick had outside I escaped back into my cell.

I must of fallen asleep because when I woke up the room was pitch black, the light from the windows no longer illuminating my cell. I jumped down from my bunk and headed out into the main room not really expecting to find anyone, so I was surprised to find everyone except Carl and Sophia still gathered around the table clearly in conversation.

My eyes found Glenn and I smiled, he looked loads better now that the dried blood had been cleaned away.

"Shane's dead" Rick suddenly announced grabbing my attention, looking around the room I could tell that this was new information for most.

"He's what???" Lori asked her voice rising in panic.

"He tried to kill Rick" T-Dog suddenly spoke up. "It was self defence"

"I don't believe that.......He...he was your friend" Lori's hand flew up to her mouth.

"I thought so too" Rick said running his hand through his hair.

Lori turned and stormed out of the room, Rick following closely behind.

I couldn't say that I felt much in regards to Shane's death, we'd not been friends. In fact we'd not really spoke since he'd shouted at me when I'd first come to be with the group. I wouldn't wish death on anyone, but if Rick said he'd had to kill him in self defence then I believed him.

"How you doing?" Glenn asked appearing beside me making me jump slightly.

"I'm okay" I gave him a small smile. "How are you feeling?" I asked trying to change the subject.

"If it helps any I don't think it was an easy decision for him to make" Glenn said ignoring my question.

I couldn't bring myself to say anything, too afraid that I would start to cry.

My eyes told him everything he needed to know an he gave me a small smile. "I'll be alright" he said answering my question before taking his seat again next to Maggie.

The next morning I slept in, I was surprised that I'd managed to sleep at all with the fact that I'd slept most of yesterday too, but somehow I had and I felt so much better for it..

I was pulling on my t shirt when I heard a commotion coming from the main room. Worried that something was happening I raced out, stopping dead when I saw him stood behind Rick. His blue eyes watching me as my heart pounded in my chest. He was back! But why?

"So this is the reason we had to come back brother" Merle scoffed looking me up and down. "Cant say I see the appeal myself"

Daryl spun towards him "Shut up or I'll shut yer up myself" He spat.

"Why's he here anyway Daryl?" Rick asked anger clear in his voice.

"I needed to get back to warn yer"

"Warn us about what?" Rick's expression changed to confusion.

"Tell him" Daryl ordered causing everyone to look to Merle.

"That guy yer've just stole the girl and the Chinese kid from-"

"We haven't stole them from anyone" Rick interrupted angrily.

"Doesn't matter what yer think..........he doesn't take kindly to things being taken from him" Merle stated "He will retaliate"

A shiver ran down my spine, I had no idea what the place was like they'd rescued Glenn and Maggie from but if Daryl had raced back to warn us then It was definitely something to worry about.

I could feel Daryl's eyes on me as I listened to Rick and Merle talk about The Governor, well that's what I thought I'd heard Merle call him anyway.  It made me incredibly uncomfortable, part of me wanted to scream and punch him but then the other part wanted to throw my arms around him and beg him not to leave again. Both would cause me to look crazy so instead I turned away from him and headed out of the room.

I needed some space, so with my knife firmly lodged in my boot I headed into the tunnels. My plan was to head to the kitchen to see if there was anything else useful, which also gave me the alone time I badly craved while I tried to sort my head out.

I found the kitchen easily and was about to head inside when I heard footsteps behind me. Grabbing my knife from my boot I turned with it raised ready to strike, but there was no walker there, only the person I was trying to avoid.

"How come yer came down here?" He asked coming closer as I replaced my knife back into my boot.

"To get away from you" I scowled, the screaming and punching part of me definitely winning.

Daryl looked at me clearly surprised by my answer. "Why?"

"How can you even ask that?" I asked in disbelief "I spent four days waiting for you to come back....to then get told by Rick that you'd left with your brother"

Daryl still looked confused "I thought you of all people would understand why I did what I did"

Anger bubbled up inside me and I was incredibly grateful that I'd put my knife away.

"You think I don't understand why you did it, he's your brother of course I understand" I shouted "it's not just the fact that you left.....it's the way you did it Daryl" I could feel my eyes beginning to water causing me to get more annoyed.

"You told me I wouldn't be alone anymore........And then you fucked off" i wiped away a stray tear that had managed to escape.

"I didn't want to" he whispered slowly walking towards me. "When I found him I was so relieved, then Rick told me he couldn't come back with us.........I've never felt the way I did then before"

"I would of come with you" I whispered.

Suddenly his arms were around me and his familiar scent filled my nostrils.

"I know you would have" he mumbled into my hair "But I couldn't let you, it's not safe out there.......I wouldn't of been able to protect you like the group can"

I pulled back looking up at him "When are you going again?" I asked not really wanting to know the answer..

"I'm not"

I looked up at him confused, but before I had chance to question him his lips found mine.

They crashed into mine catching me off guard, an it took a few seconds for me to fully grasp what was actually happening before I started to kiss him back. All the anger I'd felt moments before melted away as his lips moved against mine.

I pushed myself against him wanting to be as close as possible to him, an was surprised when I felt his hardness against me. Pulling away I looked up at him and smiled, no longer needing to guess whether he felt the same way as I did.

Our lips met again and it soon became more heated. Our hands roaming over each other at a frenzied pace wanting to touch as much of each other as possible. His hand quickly found my ass and gave it a hard squeeze as I felt him smirk against my lips.

He no longer tensed under my touch as he had done before, instead he seemed to enjoy it as I ran my hands up under his vest and guided it off his shoulders not breaking away from the kiss.

Every inch of me seemed to ache for him, every touch from him turning me on just that little bit more.

His fingers dug into my thigh as he lifted it up around his waist, pressing his cock into me causing a moan to escape.

I tried to open his shirt but my fingers were shaking so much that I couldn't grip the buttons, after multiple try's on the same button the impatient part of me won out, an with as much force as possible i pulled apart the material and was pleased with myself when the buttons suddenly scattered everywhere. I slowly ran my hands over his chest, trailing kisses as I made my way down to his stomach enjoying the feel of his muscles as they twitched under my finger tips.

I lingered on his belt for a moment, my insides tingled at just the thought of undressing him further. I wanted to see all of him.

His finger came up under my chin and he lifted my face so that he could continue the kiss while I blindly fumbled with his belt buckle. I smiled against his lips as I finally opened it, just as his hands grasped the bottom of my tshirt and pulled it up over my head.

His eyes hungrily took in my lace covered breasts. I reached behind myself and I unclasped my bra, pulling it off before dumping it on top of his vest on the floor. He wasted no time in bending down, his mouth taking in my nipple as he tugged it gently with his teeth causing the tingling between my legs to intensify.

My hands went back to his jeans, quickly opening them before pushing them down, using my foot to finish getting them to his ankles. My cheeks flushed slightly at the sight of his cock straining against his underwear. I wanted him inside me there and then but I held myself back. I didn't want to rush this, so instead I rubbed him through the fabric of his underwear causing him to moan pressing himself against my palm. Using his distraction I sank down to my knees in front of him, pulling his boxers down with me.

His cock sprung free and I quickly took it into my mouth, enjoying the feeling of him as I moved up and down his length. Holding the base of his cock firmly in one hand I pumped him, slowly at first.  My confidence growing as I watched him watching me, his eyes hooded with arousal. I increased my speed, flicking the tip with my tongue with each stroke. His hands fisted in my hair, holding me in place as he began to thrust into my mouth. His need for control fuelled the tingling between my legs.

"Y/N" he groaned his grip tightening.

I could feel his cock beginning to pulse signalling he was close to his release.

"Y/N......I'm gonna...." he groaned louder.

I grabbed hold of his hips and pumped him faster, twirling my tongue around his tip.

His breathing quickened, an then he exploded into my mouth with a shudder calling my name.

He soon had me back onto my feet as he fiddled with the button on my jeans. Feeling just as urgent as him I helped and pushed them off along with my panties and boots. He pressed himself against me once more causing us to stumble back against the stone wall.. The feel of his skin against mine was amazing, his hand grabbed my thigh and pulled my leg up once again around his waist.

His fingers found my entrance and he inserted one deep earning a gasp of pleasure from me as he slowly started to move them.

"Daryl...." I moaned, just the fact that it was him touching me was doing incredibly things to my arrousal and soon I could feel my orgasm building up "What if someone comes looking for us?" I panted, not that I really cared. I buried my face into his neck as the pleasure continued to grow inside me. He pumped his fingers faster as his thumb found my centre and began to rub. I knew I was close but I wasn't satisfied with just having his fingers, I wanted all of him. I needed him.

An then out of nowhere.

"Daryl?.......Kelly?" It was Dale and he sounded close.

Daryl's head snapped up towards Dales voice, his fingers not leaving inside of me.

I began to panic not wanting to be caught in our various stages of undress. I looked around searching for anywhere we could hide, relieved when I saw the big double doors of the kitchen across from us.

"Daryl" I whispered

He turned to look at me with lust filled eyes and I almost forgot about Dales impending arrival.

"The door" I signalled with my chin, Daryl removed his fingers and spun quickly, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the door shutting it quietly behind us.

Knowing Dale he probably wouldn't venture this far down on his own but we didn't want to risk it.

We stood in silence for a few moments listening for his voice, time seemed to drag as we waiting to be able to continue.

Shit! I cursed to myself realising that we'd left out clothes scattered across the floor outside the door.

It was soon pushed from my mind when Daryls lips suddenly found mine once again. Grabbing hold of my waist he lifted me up onto one of the benches causing me to giggle at the coldness against my rear.

I kissed up his neck taking in his familiar scent of leather and dirt that seemed to cling to him. I ran my hands over his chest, pausing slightly as I heard the sound of foil tearing, vaguely wondering where he'd got the condom from but soon the thought disappeared as I hungrily watched him slide it along his length.

He looked up at me questioningly causing me to giggle lightly as I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him against me. I needed him inside me and the anticipation was killing me.

He slammed into me causing me to gasp with pleasure at the fullness. He began moving slowly at first, each thrust pushing me closer to my release.

Thank God we were the in the tunnels because I was finding it incredibly hard to keep quiet as his thrusting quickened.

His hands grasped my ass holding me in place so that he could go deeper. The added pressure pushing me over the edge and I came loudly, my insides pulsing against him. He buried his face into my neck as he shuddered finding his own release once again.

For the moment we just held each other, not wanting to let go and end the moment.

When we did pull apart Daryl looked at me with a smile.

"Wasn't expecting that when I came looking for yer" he smirked.

I couldn't help but laugh "Yeah okay.......So I guess you just found the condom on the floor then"

His cheeks flushed slightly as he laughed with me, pulling me back into a hug.

Tomorrow wasn't certain. With the governor now out for revenge our lives were set to become even more complicated and dangerous, but in Daryl's arms none of that mattered.

----------------------------------------------------

and a tag for the lovely @jodiereedus22 :)

[thefragileblackdahlia]

Pilot: Part one

Summary

Orphaned since the age of 4, Blaire Remington is raised and trained by none other than Bobby Singer, who is a long time family friend of the Winchesters. 

Meanwhile, Two brothers witness their mother's paranormal death and are trained to fight by their father, who aims to hunt down the thing that killed his wife.

Blaire’s outfits  1 | 2

Warning(s): Angst, Typical Supernatural Violence, Mild Profanity

A/N: There is an error some where. It should say ‘of three years’ Not six years. My math was off by so much. It’s somewhere in there so ya. 

Word Count: 5,821

22 YEARS AGO

NOV 10TH, 1983

"Two homes erupted into flames this month, in Lawrence, Kansas. It is still undetermined what caused these fires, but the Police are suspecting arson. Stay tuned for more information coming after these messages." 

A caucasian male, Jaxon Remington, stood perched against the 1967 Red Plymouth Fury, She-Devil. He clutched a crying child in his arms, trying his best to soothe the 6-month-old. It was hard for him, his wife just died, pinned to the ceiling, and he had no idea how to take care of a baby on his own. He had no idea what murdered his wife, but he knew that whatever it was, wasn't a human. 

"Bumble Bee..." Jax whispered, "I will never let anything bad happen to you, even if it kills me."

What Jax didn't know is that he would only live to see Blaire grow to the age of 4, and then he was suddenly ripped from her life. 

This left baby Remington all alone with nothing but She-Devil. While Bobby was finishing up a hunt for a dearly departed friend, he found Blaire. Being a kind man, he took her into his home and raised her like his own. 

 There, she met the Winchesters and learned of their story, which was very similar to hers. 

Their mothers died pinned to the ceiling, 1983, Lawrence, Kansas.

PRESENT DAY

OCT 31ST, 2005

"Bobby, I'll be at the garage soon- Yes, I have the keys- I know you're not home!" A female hummed into her pink Motorola Razr as she drove down the highway. The cherry-red paint shimmered in the afternoon sun, bits and pieces of the scenery reflected in the gloss finish.

 At the wheel sat a mahogany-skin colored woman, with brown curly hair down to her back. She donned silver rimmed-heartshaped sunglasses with glossy lips.

She leaned over the steering wheel as she talked on the phone with her surrogate father, Bobby Singer. She tapped her fingers on the rim of the red fur-covered steering wheel, to the beat of Queen's 'Don't Stop Me Now.'

"Look, Dean needs help, and I'll be damned if I just sit here while Johnny's missin'." The beauty snapped into the phone just as it started chiming. "See, Look, that's Dean now. Bye, Dad." She cooed and ended the call to answer Dean's.

"Yes, Big boy." The woman laughed into the phone. "Hey, I'll stop callin' you Big boy when you start callin' me Blaire- Yes, I am 5 minutes away, Dear- Yes- Well, I don't know if Sam is gonna be up for huntin'... The last time we spoke, he made it pretty clear he did not  want to hunt with me." Blaire huffed into the phone. 

It wasn't like she was helping Dean just to talk to Sam. It had been two years since they broke up, and it was Blaire that did the breaking. She wanted to hunt and continue her dad's legacy, and Sam wanted to go to college. Regardless if she scored 1750 on her SAT, she felt like she had a duty and that the world wasn't going to save itself.

 "I'm pulling up." She murmured.

Blaire snapped her phone closed and settled both hands on the wheel. It had been a few months since she had been home, and when she was home, it was the usual: cooking and cleaning and checking up on the old hunter. As she reached Singer's Auto, she turned up her music louder and put down the top. Her kinky locks whipped around in the wind as she pressed her foot to the gas pedal.

"I'm a shooting star, leaping through the sky.

Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity!

I'm a racing car, passing by like the Lady Godiva!

I'm gonna go, go, go.

There's no stopping me!"

The African woman belted out the tune as she turned down the rocky pathway leading to the garage.

 "Hey, Deano! Baby's lookin' a little dusty." Blaire laughed and gave She-Devil two light taps as she pulled up next to Baby, the 1967 Chevy Impala. 

The pseudo-rockstar turned down Queen and tilted her glasses down. "Hey, big boy." 

Dean sat perched on the side of Baby with his arms crossed. "Yeah, Yeah. She-Devil's looking good, but we both know that Baby'll beat her any day." The hunter drawled while thrusting himself off the car and strolling to the trunk of his car. He loved hanging with Blaire; She was his best friend, and she was sharp on her toes. Nothing passed by her.

"Whatever. You talk, but we both know you can't back it up." Blaire teased and removed her glasses. "So-" She grunted as she leaped out of the car. "Tell me what happened and, why weren't you with John?" 

"I was working my own hunt- in New Orleans. Dad went to go check out this case three weeks ago, and this is the first I've heard from him- he left me this cryptic message today." Dean rambled while he opened the trunk and motioned to She-Devil.  

"Load up." He added.

Blaire just gave him a slight nod, yanking her keys out of the ignition, and slipping it into the lock on her trunk. "So, what's your plan to convince dear Schoolboy?" The dark-skinned woman let out a soft grunt as she lifted the secret compartment, exposing her hunter weapons. She wasn't sure what to take except her few weapons, lore books, and clothes. There was no telling how long they'd be searching for John, and he knew how to cover his tracks well; They all did. 

"I dunno, just ask him to come. If he doesn't, it'd just be us." Dean muttered as he played with the keys to the impala. 

It was apparent he didn't have a plan, and that summed up 90% of his personality. Dean goes in guns blazing and will go out in a blaze of glory. Sometimes no plan was better than having a plan at all.

"Great plan." Blaire quipped and tucked her pistol into the back of her jeans, and covered it with her blue flannel and denim jacket. "You're going in alone and convincin' him, right?" She queried with a bit of sass in her voice. 

"Uh...I was kinda hopin' you'd go in with me and blink your eyes a few times. You can work your sparkly gloss magic." Dean chuckled. 

The 22-year-old just rolled her eyes at that. She knew it was too good to be true. She gave Dean a sarcastic tone of voice, "Wow, and here I thought you almost wanted me to come on your road trip with you because I'm fun."

Eventually, she would have to get over the fact that Sam desired to be more than a hunter. But it was hard; he left her alone for two years. 

"D'aw, Y'know I love you, Bee" Dean cooed and enveloped the small woman within his arms. He knew this trip would be so much more bearable now that he had his best friend by his side.

"You smell really nice, like pie-" He hummed.

"Bee is a brace-faced 14-year-old. It's Blaire. And it's my new shampoo, you like it?" The huntress asked while collecting the rest of her garments from the trunk and then slammed it shut. Blaire bumped him out of the way and strolled over to Baby's trunk. She reached into her duffle and began sliding her armaments into the slots that were carved in for her.

Once she finished with her tools and fake IDs, she closed the compartment and tossed in her backpack full of lore books, then her duffles full of her clothes and shoes.

"You'll always be brace-face Bee to me." Dean mumbled under his breath. It was loud enough for Blaire to hear but still low that if she weren't paying attention, she would've missed it. 

Dean stood next to his best friend. "Ready?" He inquired as he raised his hands as she did hers. 

They both closed the trunk and started their journey to pick up Sam from Stanford.

STANFORD

NIGHT

The impala hissed as Dean pressed his foot against the breaks. Baby's soft rumbles filled the night air. When the rumble quieted, Blaire stirred in the passenger seat with her novelty sock-clad feet in Dean's lap. 

"Bee, we're here." Dean hurriedly pushed Bee's feet off of him and opened his door. This rude gesture earned a grumble from the sleeping beauty, who swung herself around to face front. She wasn't ready to face Sam or possibly be in the car with him.

"Fine~" Blaire whined as she slipped her feet into her heeled boots and tied up her hair in a ponytail. She hunched over and strained her eyes to look into the side mirror; she looked good for someone who slept the whole ride and had a hunt the day before.

After getting herself situated, the duo climbed up the fire escape. Blaire kneeled and picked at the locked window. The huntress carefully opened the window wide and slipped inside. Her heels made a thud sound once they came in contact with the wood floor. FUCK.

Dean soon followed after her, being louder than he wanted to be. The point of sneaking in was not to alert Sam, but she guessed Dean had other plans. She quickly shuffled into the living room just as she heard the floorboard creak and light breathing. It was from Sam; he was always such a light sleeper. Blaire motioned two fingers to Dean and glanced over her shoulder in time to see Sam hide behind a wall. Dean briskly walked past a beaded curtain heading to where his partner told him to go.

Sam lunged forward and grabbed the man's shoulder, which prompted the man to knock away Sam's hand. The stranger went to strike at Sam, who ducked and went to jab his elbow, but the man caught his arm and swung him around. Sam went to kick the man, but it was blocked as the intruder shoved him back into the living room. 

Dean metaphorically tapped in Blaire and stepped off to the side, which only confused Sam until he saw a womanly figure emerge from the shadows. Bee caught a glimpse of Sam's baby face with the little light that shone through the apartment windows. 

Sam also caught an overview of the woman's face. 'Blaire?' He thought. No way- it couldn't be. She was in South Dakota the last time he talked to her; two years ago. 

Blaire smirked once she saw a glimpse of confusion, which earned him a hard elbow to the face. Sam turned with force but showed no signs of giving up. He raised his leg to the woman's head, but she only ducked and swung her fist, which Sam blocked. Blaire jabbed him in the side twice, then palmed his face and swung him down over her shoulder.

 The huntress now had Sam pinned to the floor, one hand at his throat and her leg stretched out, digging her heel into his wrist and keeping it pressed to the floor.  Her other hand held his right hand to her chest while his left leg was awkwardly hanging over her shoulder.

"Whoa, easy, tiger." Blaire whispered in a sultry voice. She missed training like this with Sam. The look in his eyes when he went into battle mode made Blaire's blood rush. The Nubian beauty dipped her head down into the natural light so Sam could adequately see all her features. 

Sam and Blaire's hard pants filled the room. 

"Blaire?" Sam queried while tilting his head to the side.

Blaire only let out a haughty laugh and flashed him her pearly whites. Her canine teeth were sharper than the rest, which complemented her smile.

"You scared the crap out of me!" Sam huffed as he was still processing the fact that his ex-girlfriend was now in his apartment, straddling him. He almost forgot Jessica was in the next room. 

"That's 'cause you're out of practice." Bee drawled as she dug her heel deeper into his wrist, a groan erupting from his throat.

The retired hunter stared into Blaire's big brown eyes and then grasped at her wrist while bringing his heel down into her back. Sam's leg wrapped around Blaire's neck in the process as they rolled over with Sam on top, having the woman bound to the floor. The male kept a sturdy grip on her wrist until he noticed she still wore the friendship bracelet he made her. 

"Or not. Sammy- Let go." Blaire moaned, wriggling her wrists away from Sam's hold.  

Dean entered the scene with a beer in his hand, watching the whole debacle. It was amusing to see Sam staring at Blaire like he had seen a ghost, as well as it was fun seeing Blaire ogle at Sam's dominance. "Alright, break it up, you two. I leave for a minute and someone's on top of the other." Dean teased with a chuckle.

Sam peered over his shoulder at Dean, who he presumed to be the first person he attacked. 

"Get off me." The huntress growled. Her mood quickly changed once Dean entered the room. No way in hell was he going to hold this over her. She swung the weight in her legs over to Sam's head and wrapped them around his neck. Once she was free from his armlock, she pushed herself to her feet and glanced over to Dean, who just had a smug grin on his face. 

"What the hell are y'all doing here?" Sam breathed as he rubbed the back of his neck and also rose to his feet. He knew Blaire was smaller, but she sure did pack a punch, and he could remember clearly all the times he pissed her off and earned a punch to the face; one time she broke his nose.

"Well," Dean started and gestured to the beer in his hand. "I was looking for a beer." Leave it to Dean to avoid serious topics and coat it in humor. Blaire knew deep down that it bothered Dean that John was missing, and Sam was at Stanford, living his best life.

"Actually, we gotta talk-" Blaire interjected. She wanted to cut to the chase and get down to the nitty-gritty, which reflected her personality and how she hunted. Bee was about to explain why they were there, but suddenly the lights turned on. She didn't bother to look over her shoulder once she put together what could've turned the lights on- and it wasn't her.

"Sam?" A feminine voice rang out behind Blaire, who remained still. Bee tentatively watched as Sam and Dean concurrently turned their heads to look at the woman, then Blaire's face for a reaction. 

"Jess, Hey." Samuel paused as he struggled to form words. He looked from Dean to Bee, who just had a look of utter betrayal. "Dean, Bee, this is my girlfriend, Jessica." Sam gestured to the blonde woman. 

By the look on Dean's face, she must've been attractive, and Blaire wasn't ready to face the thought that Sam might have moved on. The concept was not grasping. The huntress slowly turned around to face her replacement. 

"Wait, your brother Dean?"Jess asked with a small smile and a pointed finger. 

It was like Blaire wasn't ever there, and she never noticed Sam's eyes constantly darting over to her and analyzing her face, which just held a small smile. The retired hunter could tell that Blaire was hurt, though she was queen at holding it in, years and years of being around her made it almost impossible for her to hide anything from him- or so he thought.

A dorky, shit-eating grin danced across Dean's face as he approached Jessica. "Oh, I love the smurfs. You know, I just gotta tell you- You are completely out of my brother's league." Dean shamelessly flirted with his brother's girlfriend in front of the ex-girlfriend.

Jess nodded over to Sam, "Just let me put something on."

Finally, it felt like the circuits in her brain stopped shorting. It wasn't her turn to speak, but who the hell cares, she surely didn't. "No, no. It's okay, seriously." Blaire forced out a small giggle, just to show Jess that she was 'friendly.'

Dean and Sam were just as surprised as Jessica was to hear Blaire finally speak. The boys saw her friendly demeanor as shark-infested waters and knew not to fall into that trap. This prompted Dean to return to his brother's side as Blaire held eye contact with Jess.

"We just gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. That's s'all." The dark-skinned woman uttered. Her southern belle charm added to the pseudo sweetness that could, for sure, give everyone a cavity. "But, uh, pleasure meetin' you, ma'am" She finished.

"No." Sam asserted. He stepped toward Jess and tossed his arm around her."No, Whatever you want you to say, you can say it in front of her." Sam declared and squeezed his girlfriend. He knew it would only make Blaire mad; Sam felt like he had the right to be a dick since she was the one who broke up with him. So, if she was jealous, so be it.

Blaire's stoic expression never wavered as Sam hugged her replacement. Yes, of course, it hurt her, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. 

"Okay. John hasn't been home in a few days, Dean's worried." She stared blankly.

Sam remained next to Jess with the most asshole-ish attitude, "So he's working overtime on a Miller Timeshift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later."

This reaction made Dean sigh. He dipped his head down and then looked up to his brother, "Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days." Dean clarified.

Jess looked to Sam in confusion, Blaire had just said the same thing, what was different?  

Sam's stony expression held, but there was a small twinge of alarm in his eyes. He gulped, "Jess, excuse us."

Blaire was the first to exit the apartment, her heels clacking against the steps. She finally began expressing an emotion other than fake happiness, which only meant bad news for Dean in the car ride later if Sam doesn't agree to come. How dare he move on, and not even care to mention that she used to be his girlfriend of five years.

Three minutes later, Sam and Dean emerged from the apartment.

STAIRWELL & OUTSIDE

"I mean, come on. You can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you." Sam complained as he trotted down the stairs with Dean. 

Dean sighed and nudged Sam's arm. "You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. We need you to help us find him." 

"We. You have Blaire to help you, and she's just as smart as I am, even smarter." As they rounded the corner, Sam could see the back of Blaire's head. "You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine." By the time he concluded that statement, they were at the bottom of the stairs, and Sam stood behind Bee. 

"Y'know, you're full of shit. Just say you aren't coming, so Dean and I can get to saving people." Blaire sneered at the tall man. She disliked the fact that she had been replaced and also how in denial Sam was being. It's not hard to piece together the clues. John's missing, and he could possibly be the D-word.

Sam glared daggers into Bee's chocolate eyes. They held disdain and betrayal, which made him quickly look away. He wasn't ready to open those can of worms. "I'm not coming." He uttered.

Dean just looked up to his younger brother with a pang of sadness in his stoic expression. "Why not?"

The retired hunter shook his head as he answered, "I swore I was done hunting for good."

"It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad. You're just runnin' away cause you're scared." The African woman snapped and started for the exit. She didn't mean to call him a coward or let her problems seep its way into the conversation, but she needed Sam to know precisely how she felt.

"Scared?" Sam queried as he followed after Bee, brushing past Dean, who was hot on their trail. 

"Yes, Samuel. Scared." Blaire spat while stopping at the door and turning around to look at her ex-boyfriend.

"When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45." Sam inched closer to Blaire, whose death stare never staggered; her glare could cut cleanly through chunks of ice. The brunette male shifted on his feet. 

"Well, what was he supposed to do?" Dean asked with his hands in the air.

Sam scoffed and said the next line with care. "I was nine years old! He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark."

Blaire let out a loud snort. "Don't be afraid of the dark? Are you kidding me?" She turned her body and gazed out the window. "You should be afraid of the dark...You know what's out there. What it did-" A small crack in her voice caught the brothers' attention, they hated when Blaire cried, it was like the weather agreed with her and it always rained.

"Yeah...I know, but still. Bee, The way we grew up after our moms were killed, and our dads' obsession to find the thing that killed them. You were four you should have been playing with dolls, not guns!" As Sam spoke, he gradually closed the space between him and the sorrow-stricken woman. 

For them, it was like an instant replay of their break up, and it only made the exchange more emotional. Sam recommenced, "And we still haven't found the thing. So we kill everything we can find."

Dean decided to butt in before they ended up in another fistfight. "We save a lot of people doing it, too." 

There was a small pause where Sam processed his brother's response while also still searching Blaire's face. Before he could even think of what he said, it already came tumbling out his mouth. "You think Mom would have wanted this for us?"

This inane question earned him two angry looks from Dean and Blaire. The curly-haired woman didn't know her mother, but she had pictures, and it helped because she looked just like her mother, except for her eyes; she had her father's eyes. 

At least she remembered her father. Blaire just whirled around and slammed into the door, opening it. Dean, who felt the same, followed close in her footsteps. Sam had no choice but to chase after them.

The retired hunter felt the need to explain himself and justify why he said what he said. "The- The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean- Bee, we were raised like warriors."

Blaire climbed the short flight of steps that led into the parking lot. Her rubber heels thudded against the concrete. About halfway to the car, she turned around and gestured to the apartment building. "So what are you gonna do, Sammy? Huh? You just gonna live some normal, 9 to 5, apple-pie life? Is that it? Cause I think you're full of shit." 

"No. Not normal. Safe." Sam muttered.

"And that's why you ran away." Dean added with a scoff. He peeped at Bee, who looked like she was teetering on the edge of punching Sam in the face or crying. 

Sam shifted on his feet and held his arms open. "I was just going to college. It was Blaire and Dad who said If I was gonna go, I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing." He could remember that night clearly, and it hurt him deeply to hear those words twice from two people he loved dearly. 

"Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already, I can feel it." Dean pressed out. All that went through his mind was the voicemail he was left. He didn't want to assume the worst, but in this life- you didn't live to die from old age. "I can't do this alone." Dean asserted.

Sam furrowed his brows and nodded over to Bee. "Yes, you can."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to." Dean huffed and looked anywhere, but Sam's eyes. 

Sam let out a heavy sigh and looked down at the ground. Should he help them? What about Jessica? He felt obligated to help them; he glanced at the two and pulled his lips into a tight line. "What was he hunting?"

Blaire's expression lightened as she heard that question. It meant they were making progress. The small woman just looked over to Dean, who opened the trunk of the impala, then the spare-tire compartment. He propped the compartment open with his sawed-off shotgun and rummaged through Bee's various witchy paraphernalia.

"Bee- you have too much stuff. Why do you even have-what even is this?" Dean paused and picked up a jar filled with a dark red substance. The boys looked to Blaire expectantly.

Blaire glanced between the two brothers with a nervous expression. She always made sure to keep her car packed with things just in case she needed it. She acquired this trait from Bobby. "It's Dead-Man's blood- for vampires- look- just hurry up, would ya? It's gettin' pretty cold, and I gotta pee." 

"Okay, okay, Hold your horses- and your pee. Let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?" Dean resumed searching through the clutter. 

Sam leaned against the side of the car, having a full view of the arsenal. "So, when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?" 

"Oh! He said he was working his own gig- in New Orleans." Blaire blurted out with a small giggle. She really didn't believe he was working a case there, but he sounded so serious about it, maybe he did.  

Dean caught on quickly to her ridiculing him. He waved his hand, dismissively to the dark-skinned woman. "Look- It was a voodoo thing. I'm serious." The male hunter just kept combing through the files. 

"Wait." Sam started. "Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?"

Dean halted his movements and peered over his shoulder at his little brother. "I'm 26, dude." He shook his head and examined the last Manila folder and found the case. "All right, here we go." Dean inhaled sharply. 

"So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy-" He paused for a moment while handing the paper over to Sam, who took the paper and shared it with Blaire. 

Dean smiled at the gesture. "They uh- found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA."

The paper is a printout of an article from the Jericho Herald, headlined "Centennial Highway Disappearance" and dated Sept. 19th, 2005; it has a man's picture, captioned "Andrew Carey MISSING."

The former couple scanned the article in record timing and looked up to Dean simultaneously. 

Sam spoke first. "So, maybe he was kidnapped." 

The eldest tossed down an article for each date mentioned. "Yeah. Well, here's another one in April- Another one in December, '04, '03, '98, '92, ten of them over the past twenty years." Dean drawled as he snatched the article from Sam's hand and neatly put them back in the folder.

"All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road." He added.

There was a beat.

"It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough." Dean stated while he reached into another part of the arsenal for a tape recorder. 

"Then, I get this voicemail yesterday." He pushed play on the recorder. 

The audio started with static but clear enough for the trio to understand what was said. 

JOHN: Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.

Dean pressed the stop button and looked to Blaire and Sam. 

Concurrently, the former couple spoke while gazing at Dean. "You know there's EVP on that?" It surprised them both that they said they spoke at the same time. Blaire kept her gaze on Dean, feeling Sam's on her.

"Aw, You two are adorable. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Dean cooed as Sam shook his head disapprovingly. "All right, I slowed the message down, I ran it through a Goldwave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got." The short-haired male pressed play on the recorder, and a woman's voice came through. 

WOMAN: I can never go home...

"Never go home." The tall hunter repeated. Sam pushed himself off the car and peeped at the Nubian woman who had her fingers to her full lips in deep thought. She must have been going over the possibilities of what could have caused it. 

Sam admired this about her, the smarts, and the brawn; It was something about watching the way kicked ass and did research. He was pulled out of his daydream when Dean shut the trunk and leaned against it.

"You know, in almost two years, I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing." Dean pleaded. 

Samuel brought a hand to his face, wiped his mouth, and let out a heavy sigh. "All right, I'll go. I'll help you find him- But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here."

The Stanford student began moving back toward his apartment but stopped when he heard Blaire's soft voice. 

"What's first thing Monday?' Blaire breathed. 

On the outside, Blaire seemed calm and collected, but on the inside, she felt like she was falling apart. Her heart thumped 2 miles a minute, and it only pumped faster when Sam didn't turn around to face her when he spoke. 

"I have this...I have an interview." Sam mumbled. 

Dean remained perched against the vehicle, "What, a job interview? Skip it." He asserted.

Sam finally turned to face the two, "It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate." He affirmed. 

"Law school?" Dean chuckled with a smirk. 

"So, we got a deal or not?"  Sam queried. 

"Deal." Bee spoke for Dean. She was genuinely happy for Sam. All the times he told her about college and going into law, it was his calling but not his true calling; at least that's what she thought. She felt as though Samuel was made for hunting even if he pushed the thought away, and she partially believed he only ran away because of John.

Sam just pivoted on his heel and hurriedly made his way back to his apartment.

It was going to be a long trip, not only with him and Bee being awkward but also with Dean possibly badgering him about coming back into 'the family business.'

Blaire turned to Dean and gave him a playful nudge. "We'll find John, don't worry. I'll be there every step of the way." She pulled her lips into a tight line and rested her head on his shoulder.

 "Y'know I love you, Big boy." Bee mocked and ruffled his hair right before she took off sprinting around the other side of the car. 

"Hey! Not the hair Blaire, come on!" Dean carded his fingers through his short, spiked hair and grumbled as he was sure it looked wilder then he intended. "I'm gonna kill you, Blare!" He shouted and ran after her. 

The two spent the next few minutes running around the car and fooling around until Dean caught up with the woman and wrapped his arms around her middle, and lifted her from the ground.

"I got you, you little bug!" Dean jeered in a jovial tone while holding her back to his chest. He gave her head a hard noogie, earning a giddish side of Blaire to surface.  

Their little play session ended when they heard the creaking sound of the apartment building's side door. Blaire suddenly stamped her foot down on Dean's, which caused him to let go. It wasn't as if she was afraid of being vulnerable in front of Sam, she just didn't want him to assume that she was with his brother. Don't get her wrong- Dean was handsome and by his bragging, well endowed, but She just couldn't see Dean settling down. Maybe if he found the right one?  

"Ready?" Dean groaned as his brother approached the two with a questionable expression.

Sam parted his lips to speak but just decided not to. All he saw was Blaire's roughed up hair, and Dean panting right behind her. It wasn't like he was jealous, right? The thought of his older brother messing around with one of his ex-girlfriends or potential girlfriends ate at him, especially him potentially sleeping with Blaire. 

At the beginning of their relationship in 1999, Sam specifically told Dean that Blaire was off-limits. Maybe, because he ran away to Stanford is what made Dean feel different, but the rule still applied. 

Yes, Sam was jealous.

Sam kept silent as he threw his bag into the trunk and climbed into the passenger seat. He couldn't hear the words that were exchanged between his brother and ex, but he just assumed they were fussing about what he just saw. That changed when he saw Blaire playfully pressed her fist against Dean's chin. 

"Don't forget that it's your turn to drive." Dean murmured as he peered over his shoulder at the driver's seat. He turned back with a small smile. "Maybe I can finally get some shut-eye."

"I'll drive her later." The African beauty raised her fist to her best friend's face and lightly pushed his chin. "But for now, Big boy,  I'll be in the back countin' sheep. I had a long hunt- chasing a wendigo." She laughed and went to claim her spot in the backseat.  

Once she got in, she kicked off her boots and stretched her limbs across the black leather bench seat. Dean followed behind her, getting into the driver's seat. 

"Wake me when hit out first stop." Blaire moaned as she nuzzled into her makeshift jacket pillow and closed her eyes. Not too long after she hit the seat, she was out like a light.

"All right, Jericho, here we come." Dean affirmed and started Baby. A giddish smile danced across Dean's face as he started the car and pulled off onto the road. 

This was the start of their never-ending story.

PART TWO

SERIES REWRITE MASTERLIST

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

A Brief Recap of My Vacation Thus Far

- Yesterday, we accidentally took the wrong route and ended up on The Bad Bridge, everyone was panicked and our travel time was increased by an hour

- We still somehow made it here before the rest of my family. I get so much shit but honestly? None of us are capable of being on time

- There was a guy innocently dancing at a gas station, my grandmother called him a 'nut' and he heard and started laughing with us. This innocent interaction somehow sparked into a 30 minute race debate where I was told "It's bad to be PC. You're being too PC." All I did was say "Hey, maybe don't refer to non-white strangers as 'foreigners'". Help me.

- My Grandmother, like, completely unprompted, started denying the fact that the world has a growing population that's a bit of an issue??? Still confused

- I forgot. To pack. My headphones.

- My mother peer pressured me into drinking at dinner (omfg the waitress asked me if I had an id and literally before I could move to pull it out she goes 'who am I kidding, I can't fucking see it unless you hold it all the way over the ocean). Despite my usually high tolerance, I hadn't eaten all day so while I wasn't acting drunk or tipsy I could not make my legs function properly rip

- I came home and slept for like six hours before my mother's monstrous snoring woke me up at 2 am. Was never able to recover. I'm so tired rn

- The whole family, in true form, spent the morning ignoring me and then left for the beach without me. It took me over an hour to dredge up enough willpower to walk there myself

- I had to leave through the garage, in which you have to walk through the Hillbilly Murder Showers and struggle with The Very Small Yet Astoundingly Heavy Door. Despite pressing the button a total of six times, it still had to be essentially pried open

- This lead me to under the Boardwalk, which was covered with orange construction cones and had a huge gaping hole with Very Worrying Noises emerging from it, new feature this year. I almost took it as an omen to head back but trekked on anyway, managing to not fall into the hole.

- My family was found under a flag for the country of Montserrat, a place none of us have even heard of, but apparently my cousin kept getting emails that he had been promoted to the general of their military, and found the flag on complete coincidence and thought it fate. There was also an Eagles flag, because we are quite literally never allowed to forget that this is a Philly Family(tm)

-  My mother learned the hard way that you're supposed to Goddamn rub in the spray on sunscreen

- My hair got caught in my sunglasses so badly we almost had to consider using scissors to cut them out

- The Moon Was Apparently Out, But Only Eileen Can See It For Some Reason

- My younger cousins have a profound misunderstanding of what an undertow is

- The water was so rough today it was alarming tbh like HUGE waves hitting in the shallows, I was getting a little worried

- Even though alcohol has like, never been allowed on the beach, this year they apparently decided to Care About The Rules, so police officers were milling about. My family decided the best, least suspicious way to hide the beer was solo cups.

- I ate my weight in resses cups because I literally have no concept of self control

- Every time I pulled out my book, Jenna popped up going "did you know that movie sucked?". She wouldn't stop. I was there for three hours and barely made it to chapter 2

- Me, stuffing my face with cheese and sliced ham "idk veganism sounds kinda neat"

- My cousins three month old baby was there and my mom had to keep this child in her sight at all times like she was so convinced something was gonna Happen

- Also, the baby's grandmother was holding her while she napped and she went on this little tangent to my mom like "My mother taught me how to put a baby to sleep-" like she kept going on in this nostalgic tone about her mother and finally mom was like "Kathy we're literally sisters and mom is sitting right there you don't have to do this no one cares"

- Megan took a nap and her seven year old woke her up to ask her where his shirt was and she got. UNREASONABLY mad at him. The whole 'God forbid I can rest I do everything' spiel but like. Megan. Megan. You were asleep for like two hours. He's seven. Megan he's literally a baby he can't exactly be independent all the time.

- Seanie came over and was sitting on the big wheel of the wagon next to me so I asked him what he was doing and he went "Well, apparently I can't sit in a chair without people annoying me" and gave me a VERY pointed look so I just went back to my book so as to not invoke a 12 year old's wrath

- Can I just say: Seagulls need to stay THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME

- I cowered in fear most of the day

- A man with a chair strapped to his back and very dark sunglasses wandered into our site, head tilted toward the sky and arms out in front of him, wobbling and almost fell into multiple holes my cousin's dug. He didn't seem to notice us as we called out to him, and eventually tumbled out of our site and plopped his chair down some ways away, which he collapsed into. The Elders and The Youngins' were convinced he was blind and was whispering amongst themselves, if he's blind where's his cane? Why's he here alone? Is he really blind. To which one relative finally quipped "Well, I'm sure some alcohol can MAKE you blind" and I was cracking up tbh like how HADNT they smelled the booze coming off him when he passed by?

- Danny, 12 years old, sitting calmly in the sun, drinking a large mason jar of pickle juice. When I politely asked him what the fuck, he turned and held eye contact with me for a solid three minutes, still drinking the pickle juice.

- When you're scared about getting arrested for drinking a bottle of beer but someone can apparently start Blazing It(tm) feet away from the police with no repercussions

- Also...random observation but all the police officers, firemen, and various other In Charge people I've encountered down here over the years seem to be younger than me? Why is this place being run by 18 year olds?

- Intense debate about why there's been so little promotion for Sharknado 5, airing this Sunday.

- Holy SHIT okay so I started leaving the beach right

- I'm having trouble trekking through the thick sand. My hair looks like a literal nest, I am unevenly pale and tan, a chair and bag are threatening to knock me over in the winds- basically I look outside like the mess I've always been inside.

- AND THIS FUCKING

-THIS FUCKING GREEK GOD OF A LIFEGUARD

- YOUNG, FIT, SHIRTLESS, BLINDING SMILE, EFFORTLESS HAIR, LITERALLY THE MOST FLAWLESS TAN I HAVE EVER SEEN

- HE FUCKING PULLS UP TO ME IN HIS SAND ROVER

- REMEMBER I LOOK LIKE A HERMIT CRAB THAT JUST EMERGED FROM THE SEWERS HERE

- AND HE JUST CHEERFULLY CALLS "MOLLY! HOP IN, I'LL GIVE YOU A RIDE!"

- HOW

- THE

- FUCK

- HOW DOES THIS GORGEOUS ENTITY KNOW MY NAME? WHY WOULD THIS IMMORTAL BEAUTY CHOOSE TO ASSOCIATE WITH ME.

- He said "Molly" one more time and I'm not kidding or exaggerating. I felt my name in his voice IN MY UTERUS.

- We did not speak the entire ride, but he somehow knew pretty much exactly where to drop me off and told me to have a great day before rovering off into the fucking sunset

- I am still so SHOOK right now who was this man????? I know for a fact I've never met him before so HOW DID HE KNOW MY NAME. Why did fate bring us together when I looked so authentically me???? Who is pulling these strings I Would Like A Word With Them

- I need to lie down it's been far too long since I was this attracted to a person idk what to do goodnight

[eyeliner-byeliner-blog]

Everything is Nothing

Harry Potter x Draco Malfoy

A/N: so listen this is the first time i ever written anything and this is just the first chapter lemme know if i should continue to the second one, oh and these will be in Draco and Harry POVS so next chapter is Draco’s. And I am dyslexic so I tend to miss a lot of spelling and grammar errors so I'm sorry about that in advance (Also feel free to give me criticism please)

Description: angsty as shit bruh

—————————————————————-

“…you never know exactly how much space you occupied in people’s lives”- F.Scott.Fitzgerald

-Harry- Harry woke up on the grimy floor in a dimly lit room,it wasn’t very large and it had no windows or doors that harry could see,the light seemed to be coming from the edges of the walls and from along the lines in the floorboards, it was a strange light , it looked faint but enough light so the whole was lit in a soft light, yet it was somehow menacing, Harry adjusted his glasses to look closer and saw why, a green aura was faintly on the edges, it made the whole room vaguely glow a green hue that was barely visible, harry sat up startled after this realization, he checked himself. His was missing his wand

He senses on high alert now that he felt powerless without his wand. He walked around the room, searching for a way out, or for his wand, he found neither. No hidden doors, no trap door in the floorboards, no wand. Upon examining the room’s edges further in his attempt to find it, harry saw that the floor and walls were splattered was a dark substance

Blood

Harry got away from the was as quickly as he could, he stood in the center of the room, he needed to get out of here, NOW. He needed his wand, he would at the least have more options with it, he hoped that this was all a bad dream, but everything looked and felt too real, the walls were cold under his touch, there was even the faint metallic scent blood leaves once dried.

Harry closed his eyes, feeling powerless and cornered, he hoped that when he opened his eyes he’d be staring at the ceiling of his room, safe and sound. He slowly opened his eyes, he saw immediately the room had changed but it wasn’t the ceiling of the room, he instead was looking at a crumpled body on the ground.

He was staring at the broken and bloodied body of Hermione Granger, her eyes open in a familiar blank, glassy stare. Her body showed battle wounds but He knew that wasn’t how she died.

Harry felt his blood leave his face, all thoughts of finding his wand and finding out where he was left him, he jerked back but nearly fell from tripping over something behind him, he spun around and saw Ron’s crumpled body with the same wounds but also the same blank, open and empty stare of someone who had died from the Avada Kedavra curse, the same look Harry had seen too much after the war.

Harry turned again but this time instead of just seeing Hermione’s body he saw that the whole room was filled with the bodies of people he loved

Remus

Tonks

Ginny

George

Charlie

The list went on

That’s when the bodies started to slowly stir. one by one they slowly came back to life, “ but they couldn’t be Inferius, Im the only person in this room” Harry thought to himself trying to reason with the obvious he had no where to go, he stood frozen on the spot, half from fear and half from helplessness, he had nothing to defend himself, the bodies formed a circle around Harry and that’s when he saw her

“M-mom?”

“This wasn’t real his parents were-” he stopped himself “are dead”, the woman turned to face Harry fully confirming his question. A look of recognizance crossed her face and with it came a look of malice “Oh isn’t it the magnificent Harry Potter” Harry was flooded with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, this was his mom but how? And why was she looking at him like that? Why did she sound so sarcastic?

She continued was a sneer “ if only I could have known you were going to get me killed, if only I had know you were cursed from the very beginning, if it weren’t for you Id be alive! But no I had to get killed, you were a burden that I had to deal with, an unwanted obstacle that caused me nothing but pain.” She finished with a look of utter hatred.

Harry was speechless, she had just confirmed all of Harry worst fears of how she felt about him, his heart felt as if it were breaking in two but before he could say anything another familiar voice spoke from somewhere else in the crowd that Harry realized belonged to his dad “if we had never had had you me and Lily could’ve been living a happy life right now instead of being six feet under!”

Harry who had stumbled back from the shock and pain these words were bringing him tripped over someone behind him and fell on the floor, then came Fred’s voice “ i would still be alive if it weren’t for you, who are you to think you should have people die for you? I had a family! You could have saved so many people and families if you had died no one would have cared, you killed the only family you had, not like that would’ve mattered not exactly like they even wanted, you aren’t special, hell you aren’t anything to have so many die for you!”

Then from the crowd a chorus of voices arose from the group yelling at harry and agreeing telling him how he had failed to save them , how it was solely his fault that they had died, telling him it should have been him

Harry stared up at the group from the floor where he was propped up on his arm trying to get away, he couldn’t go anywhere he was trapped and out of options, he laid in shock, feeling as if his heart was broken beyond repair and the pain… he felt as if he was suffering a Dementor’s kiss, there was no such thing as happiness for him anymore because he didn’t deserve it, his mouth felt dry and his tongue felt heavy

“No no please no! Im sorry! I tried! I couldn’t do anything! I-” Harry’s voice cracked, he was trembling

“I tried!”

But the words sounded fake when they came out of his mouth, he didn’t know if it was true anymore, he curled up into a ball crying, they continued they’re yelling, his feeble attempt to defend himself worked to no prevail. “Its not real, its not real, its not real, it cant be” harry whispered to himself trying to keep sane

The voices yelled louder as if they all had megaphones “Im so sorry, I tried, I tried…"said harry trying to convince himself of the truth

he curled more on to himself, he body racking from the force of his sobs, they were closing in on him, everything was going dark…

Harry woke up sweating with tears running down his face, he had the same dream -or more better titled- nightmare agian, the same one he had ever since the battle of Hogwarts, it was always the same thing but it always felt so real

he hated waking up.

Because the reality of everything would come crashing down on him again,

it was always more or less the same thing

Remembering who was alive and the feeling of flooded relief and then the crushing blow of who wasn’t anymore

Because of him

Harry laid on his bed breathing hard, he thought it would’ve been better by now, it. Had been four months since the battle, since he killed the Dark Lord , since he had boarded himself up in his dead godfathers house not wanting to be harassed everyday by the daily prophet and varying other news outlets

or that’s at least what he told himself so it seemed rational to lock himself away and not for the real reason of just wanting time alone to fix himself and totally not because he felt as if he didn’t deserve anything and probably deserved worse

He could still remember that day he defeated Voldemort as clear as if it had happened the day before.

Harry actually did it, he was elated, and so was everyone else

Cheers broke out all around him, and celebrations ensued, it was several hours later until things died down and Harry wandered around campus in search of Ron and Hermione, they probably ran to make out in some corner he thought chuckling to himself, too bad he wanted to talk to them about sleeping arrangements for the night. He turned into the Great Hall

That was his first mistake

He had forgotten that’s where they had left the bodies of everyone who had died

Harry stopped in his track, his eyes falling on the dead yet peaceful looking bodies of Remus Lupin and Tonks Andromeda, his thoughts going towards Teddy who now was an orphan.

“All because of me” whispered Harry to himself

His eyes darted around the room and fell on the body of Fred, his thoughts traveled the Weasley family, of George who had lost his other half, of Ron, Ginny, Percy, Charlie, Bill who had lost a brother, of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who had lost a son.

“All because of me”

Harry’s thoughts spiraled

If only he had found the horucruxes sooner

If only he had turned himself in sooner

He could’ve faced Voldemort alone without having anyone die for him

If only…

Harry felt as if he was about to fall to pieces, he had spent so many years actually sane and he didn’t know how, he realized now he had only bottled it up, until it broke like a dam.

He had to get out now here, not just the room but Hogwarts, he had to get away, away from the tears that were sure to come from those who had lost someone, away from anyone and everyone

Harry couldn’t bear the thought of the Weasley family crying over Fred knowing that is was his fault Fred had died, he couldn’t stand the thought of Teddy with out his parents anymore because of him.

Harry knew what he needed, he needed a quiet place to fall apart

He ran out of the Great Hall, tears starting to fall down his face, peopled looked at him as he passed, some every stopped to say something to Harry but he didn’t stop running, he at one point crashed into Draco Malfoy

Draco looked up startled until he saw who ran into him “i thought you would be off celebrating with your friends Potter. what are you doing running down these halls crashing into people?”

“Not right now Malfoy!” Harry replied and pushed Draco to the side leaving him standing in the hall with a look of confusion.

Harry realized a while ago that something had looked off about Draco but he couldn’t figure ut what, he had just wanted to get away

Harry needed to get off the grounds and disapparate, he didn’t think he could concentrate enough to fully show up at the house but so what if he died by getting splinched? It would be better to die, to feel nothing at all rather then everything he was feeling right now

12 Grimmauld Place

12 Grimmauld Place

12 Grimmauld Place

He apparated in front of the house and made his way in the house somehow he found itself in Sirius’s room which made Harry hurt more, knowing that Sirius had died for him, he crumpled to the floor and cried, for how long? He couldn’t remember…

Harry laid on his bed, staring at his ceiling, calming down slightly as he reminisced everything

He had told Kreacher to tell anyone who stopped by that Harry was not excepting visitors at the moment, no matter who it was, he ignored the steadily growing pile of letters in the corner, he had also told Kreacher to burn anything that was not a letter from someone they knew, he knew those letter were from concerned friends, Hermione and Ron would be worried but he couldn’t face it and talk to them

Not yet, it all hurt too much still

Harry replied several weeks later with half-assed apologies that would seem earnest to them , he gave them the excuse that he didn’t want to be harassed by reporters and that was the sole reason why he locked himself away, that Kreacher had been accidentally burning their letters along with the Daily Prophet ones, he told them he was fine just bored.

They of course replied minutes after Harry had responded telling him they had been worried sick about him, that it was smart to stay away from the press, they said how they wished he could have been at Fred’s funeral they saved a honorary spot for him, saying they were sorry they couldn’t visit but that they were rebuilding Hogwarts and those who had lost loved ones in the war- harry’s heart sank from guilt upon reading that part- and that they were for sure keep in touch….

And here harry was, still a mess, just a well organized mess, he could conceal that he was a mess, chaotically organized, an oxymoron of the highest level

Harry sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed, his bare feet on the cold wood floor, his vision was blurry, he searched his bedside table and after several moments he located his glasses, everything became clear.

His room was splattered in a soft gold light, he glanced at the window that he had accidentally left open, it was sunrise. He glanced at his clock, it read 6:37, “early bird catches the worm right?” He said to the empty room.

Harry, still murky from waking up stretched, he felt his muscles in his body ripple from being dormant in his sleep, harry shivered, it was cold in his room from the open window

He glanced around his room, his eyes fell to the letter that had been on his desk for the past month it was a letter from Hermione telling Harry that Mcgonagall had decided to make an eighth year at Hogwarts for the seventh years that wished to return, who needed closure or for those who just need to feel something normal

Hermione told him of course Ron, Ginny and herself would be returning and that Harry should go as well, the press wouldn’t be able to crowd him at school and another year would be good for all of them, Harry of course agreed, he didn’t want to let them down again

Harry got up off his bed and looked at himself in the mirror, he had grown a tiny bit over the summer, he looked older but tired, the nightmares had taken a toll on him, his hair was a mess- or a lost cause as Harry liked to call it, his face had scruff and his pajama bottoms hung loosely around his bare waist, revealing the V coming down from his hips

He glanced around the room again and sighed, he couldn’t believe today was the day he would be going back again, his trunk was already packed with his robes and varying books, earlier in the week Harry had gone and bought himself a new owl with the help of a poly juice potion so he wouldn’t be recognized

Harry winced at the thought of losing Hegwid

he had gotten a kind and ruddy colored barn owl, he had decided to name her Caeli, it was latin for starry because the way the light reflected in her large eyes reminded him of starry nights.

He started to rummage through one of his drawers looking for clean and presentable clothes he could wear on the train before he changed into his school robes, when he finally suitable clothing he made his way towards his bathroom

“I can do this.” Harry thought to himself as he turned the water on in the shower, “I can do this.” It was the same thing he told himself everyday since the battle

“ i have too”

Too many people were counting on him, Harry undressed and stepped into the shower and felt the warm water run over him and watched it flow in rivulets down his body, as he got lost in his thoughts he went through the mechanical movements of taking a shower.

He had to at the least looks happy and not like he’s age twenty years from not getting a good nights sleep since the battle, Harry sighed, he knew already how drained he’d feel at the end of the day from putting up the facade all day, he wouldn’t want to concerned anyone, especially Ron or hermione

He didn’t think either of them would understand that he didn’t need someone to tell him it will get better, to just take it one day at a time because he himself had already been saying that for so long, he needed someone to say it wasn’t Harry’s fault, but not in that tone everyone always uses when trying to comfort someone he needed the honest truth

Harry turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, shivering at the cold air that hit him, he dried himself off and went to his room, towel tied around his waist, hair still damp from the shower, smelling clean, he pulled his clothes on anticipating the coming day.