#in the bright ass sun and that basically means not leaving the hotel room and im just so upset because i want to want to go and do things

[abowlofpetuniasandawhale]

i wish i could just handle someone being a little thoughtless and rude without it getting under my skin and poking at my wounds so much like. it’s so frustrating that the most inconsequential things just have me spiraling dramatically

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

You Can’t Get Better Than A Thrombey

Summary- 4.7 Ransom x You. You and Ransom have a good thing going. Friends with benefits and nothing more. But Ransom’s selfish ways end up ruining it, and you are done. Gone. You moved on with your life. Until one traveling night that brings you back to the city you had left behind, and of course Ransom Drysdale shows up. Written for @imanuglywombat​ Wombat’s Ugly 4k Challenge. 

Warnings- This fic has a spousal cheating element to it. Please do not read if that bothers you. Other warnings, Smut, Male receiving Oral and Swears. 

A/N- Thank you @imanuglywombat​ for the wonderful challenge! It was so much fun. Congratulations on your follower count babes. 

A/N Two- Moodboard Wombat made is at the very bottom of the fic, and the lyrics used for second prompt, Good Luck by Basement Jaxx will be in italiacs through the fic. 

A/N three- if just occurred to me that the whole "you cant get better then a thrombey" came from @jtargaryen18 series Naughty Ransom Holiday Tales, which her Ransom Drysdale series is top tier and absolutely should go read. It's one of my favorites. Probably why the line got stuck in my head.

“Come on Baby, just one more.” Ransom hissed against your ear, his tongue swiping over the shell of your ear while tightening his hold on your throat, your sobs coming out half strangled from needing to come on his cock that he kept pounding into you. Feet planted on the plush hotel carpet, his thrusts into your cunt had you gasping with need while your channel fluttered around his cock. He grasped your hand that was currently buried in his hair and wrenched your hand down to press against your stomach. “Feel that Kitten, how I’m rearranging your guts and fucking you useless for anyone else?” 

Your head nodded, as much as he allowed with the hold on your throat, causing his fingers to flex, closing around your throat tighter till you were seeing sparks blossom in your sight and that's when you couldn't hold back anymore. Behind you, Ransom's sweaty chest clung like wrap to your back, vibrating as he grunted against your shoulder. You ended up flooding his cock, gushing on your thighs and slicking against his as he pounded you harder now, grabbing your hips and rutting you now to reach his end. Leaving your limp body to be rag-dolled in his lap till he shot himself inside of you to paint your walls, and you both fell back against the ruined California King bed, the sheets sex sweat stained from earlier. 

Gasping breaths and heaving chests were the only sound in the overheated room, and you eased off him, your back peeling away to roll next to him with a groan. You peeked at him from where you had buried your head against the crook of your arm, and admired the flushed cheeks, and still tensing tendons in his neck, his hair was all disheveled and out of its usual place from where he always had it groomed back. “Mmh, what are you staring at?” He questioned before turning to look at you, his ridiculously long lashes were swept against his cheek for half a second before cold crystal cerulean’s looked at you inquiring. 

“I'm looking at your post orgasm face.” You respond, and prop a hand under your head once you turn to your side. “It's a good look on you Ransom, one of your better ones.” 

He arched a brow as he reached over, tracing the curve of your breast before tugging on a still sensitive nipple to make you gasp, and shove your hand against his shoulder making him smirk in his signature way. “Fucking glad you approve, maybe we should do this more often.” 

“Well next time you're in the city, give me a call.” You say swinging up to sit on the edge of the bed, looking around at your discarded clothing. 

“And where the fuck you going?” He tugged you back to tumble into the bed, rolling over you so you could feel his thighs wedge yours apart and his hips drop into place. You fold your arms across your chest and huff, looking up at him as he braced himself above you, tendrils of sweaty hair falling over his forehead. 

“You can't be serious Ransom, again? I have to go back to my apartment. I have a work meeting tomorrow with my bosses.” You state matter of fact. “Besides, whatever happened to that no sleeping over rule?” 

“Who says I'm letting you sleep? I barely get to come to the city anyways.” He lowered over you, pressing his soft pillowed lips in all your weakest spots on your shoulder and neck, a hand sliding between your thighs and into slick folds. Fuck this man, your mind thought till it went blank again in the sensation of his fingers so expertly playing between your petals that you already were stretching your thighs wider for him. “I haven't thoroughly fucked you yet.” 

“God I hate you.” You moaned out as you felt your resolve fluttering into his favor, the metal of his pinkie rubbed against your clit and a long finger stretched you open once more. 

“Well this sure isn't love Kitten, cause I'm about to destroy you. Admit it Y/N, you haven't had anything better than me.” He expertly gave you those long fingered strokes that had you keening his name, losing your entire resolve. 

“That's my girl…” He praised above you while you grabbed his biceps and started to climb to the heavens all over again.

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A knock on the door disturbed your sleep. You stirred in confusion against the overly soft pillow that wasn't at all familiar. You lifted your head in confusion, looking around when another knock came, and you heard Ransom yell from the bathroom, snapping it open. “Fuck, will be right there.” 

You clutched the sheet and sat up, rubbing at your eyes while he brought in a cart with covered trays. “I didn't think you would ever get up Y/N.” He said while wheeling it to a table, and it occurred to you that the sun was awful bright. 

“Oh shit, Ransom, what time is it?” You shoot across the bed, looking desperately for your cell phone, and he gives a shrug while lifting the cover off one tray. 

“Hell if I know… 10? 11?” he says while grabbing a piece of toast and biting the corner while you are moving aside pillows trying to find your phone. 

“Ransom!” You snagged your phone from under a pillow, and checked the notifications. Closing your eyes in frustration. “It's more like 1 in the afternoon, and I was supposed to have a meeting at 10. I set my alarm.” 

Ransom strode over to you as you were typing out a message to your office hurriedly. “Oh, yea I might have silenced it this morning. The fucking thing wouldn’t stop chirping.” 

Your eyes lifted from your screen and said with utmost disbelief. “You… silenced it?”

“It was so fucking early and woke me up Y/N.” Like you had inconvenienced him. “I don’t know why you set the fucking thing anyways.” He said, and you felt rage well up in your chest, pushing up out of the bed, and grabbed at your clothes. 

“You did it this time Ransom. You are a fuck buddy, and yet you take the whole thing quite literally don’t you.” You grab at your panties, shoving them on and then snatch your bra. “Fucked me over on the most important meeting of my life, I should have known better then to answer your fucking text.” You are ranting to yourself, searching for your skirt. 

Ransom seems confused at your words, starting to follow you around. “You’re mad because of that job? I’ve told you a hundred times to come on as Harlan's assistant. He’s been looking for years and you would be perfect. Probably pay you better and you can come to my place more often.” His tone turned cocky while saying this, his gift to you apparently. 

You pushed past Ransom without even saying anything, grabbing your shirt and shoving it over your head. “You sold me down the river now Ransom.” You grab at your heels and slip them on while reading the message on your phone sent back from your office. Basically telling you to get your ass in because the boss wanted to see you. Breathing out in defeat. “I hope you’re feeling happy now.” You drop it in your bag while he gives an exaggerated eye roll at you. 

“Come on Y/N, It's not the end of the world.” He grasped your arm to stop you storming out, and you hiss at him. 

“You don't get it Ransom do you, I worked hard for this, my whole fucking life. And I let you ruin it for me. I should be mad at you but it would be such a waste  of energy on you. So I’m mad at myself more.” You look him up and down while wrenching your arm out of his grasp, and look up at him, committing him to memory, this exact expression of his. Signature sneer crossing his face that edged on his face with a smirk like he would fix this problem with the easiest way possible. It might have worked with another woman, one who thought that he ‘Loved Her’ but you were not fooled, there was no love between you. This was a way to scratch an itch. One that you needed to break away from. Now that the damage was done. 

“We’re all done Ransom, I can’t keep doing this shit anymore with you. The consequences outweigh the benefits of sleeping with you.” You started towards the door and you felt him spin you around, pressing you against the door. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Kitten?” He sneered down at you, and when you tried to push him away, he slammed you back into the door with a dull thud. “You don't throw away a good thing Sweetheart.” 

You catch your breath, the hard masculine body crushing against you was all too familiar, and up to his expression that looked like he had won you over. Now you always have a sneer in your smile Ransom, you thought to yourself, thinking you have actual control over me. Your hands planted against his chest, and his gaze darkened as you made him back away from you with resolve. “But wake up, Baby, You’re so totally deluded… I'm throwing away this good thing right now.” Turning away, you were quick to open the door and look over your shoulder. “Don’t bother fucking calling me anymore.” 

With a quick snap out the door, as you walked down the five star hotel hallway, you heard Ransom rip open the door and poke his head out. “Don't worry about me calling you Kitten, not like you are the only lay I can get in this town.” 

You didn't even bother answering as you stepped on the elevator. Your last sight of him was striding towards the elevator doors as they shut, staring back at him coldly as he shouted your name and the doors blocked him from you, now your reflection staring coldly back at you in the steel doors as the elevator brought you to the lobby. 

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That would be the last time you saw him in a couple years. You ended up losing your job that day, and decided that it wasn't just Ransom you needed to change in your life, but all of it. You put out resumes all over New England and found someone to take over the lease to your apartment. Within a couple months from that night, you were moving out of the city and to a small suburb, house, lawn and everything. You went to work as a legal aide at a small law firm. Dates happened here and there, but you didn't let any of them get close in the way Ransom was. Eventually dating turned into a matter of convenience for you. You settled finally. A lawyer that chased after you for a while, Neil. He made an excellent lover and you two were comfortable, you even loved him in a way. Just like he loved you in a way. He had long hours, and you always traveled. It became a relationship of sorts for you two. 

This evening you sat in the swanky Boston bar, another business trip for the firm, sipping from a second gin and tonic while scanning the room when you saw a sight you never thought you would see again. 

One Ransom Drysdale came in with some slim waisted woman clinging to him, chatting away but you could tell just from the way he scanned the room that he wasn't even paying attention to her. When his gaze fell on you, his brows arched in surprise, but then they darkened and he whispered to his companion. When she split away towards a table, he strode over to you sitting at the bar. 

“Never thought I would see you slumming in this part of town again.” He said slowly while waving the bartender over. “You look good Y/N.” He said in a matter of fact tone, and you raked a gaze over him. In the two years you hadn’t seen him, he barely changed. Still wore the high end clothes, and that camel colored coat that was so soft to the touch, that pinkie ring shone just a bit in the low light. “Another gin and tonic for her to.” in which your drink was switched out with a fresh one. 

“Business Hugh.” You snipped out, catching him scowl at mention of his name. How you got a thrill knowing how much he hated it. “And you don't look bad yourself. Still living that trust fund life, it treats you good.” You thanked the bartender and sipped from the much stronger gin and tonic now, feeling the tendrils of heat curl in your veins from the alcohol. 

“Well I will have you know not entirely a trust fund life now.” He remarked your words back to you while he leaned in closer, his hand sliding along your thigh in that all too familiar way of his. “I took over part of Blood Like Wine just to piss Walt off. But I enjoy it, and have been doing some writing myself with Harlan’s help.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise, tilting your head towards him. “You actually got serious in life? I’m impressed.” 

Ransom shrugged while twirling his glass, the bits of ice clinking in the glass. “Got bored, needed something to do Y/N.” 

You laughed hearing him, and glanced over your shoulder. “Isn’t your date waiting on your Ransom?” 

He looked over his shoulder at the woman he had come in with, shaking his head. “Nah, she will be fine. See, she already is eyeing up someone else.” He stated, watching as his previous date scooted over, letting someone sit in the booth with her. Ransom turned back to you and smirked, settling in comfortably next to you. “Guess we actually get to catch up.” You didn't send him away, in fact you two fell back into easy conversation talking about the past two years. The evening turned to night, and the bartender gave you two the cut off. Before you could excuse yourself to leave, Ransom reached out and caught your wrist to keep you from getting up.

 “Looks like I'm free tonight, what do you say… one more for old times sake?” 

You pondered his offer, the last swallow of gin and tonic was probably that last push as you glanced at your old lover. His eyes showed promise that it would be good, and you knew full well that he had every right to be cocky. Setting your glass down, you nod. 

“Old times sake… but this is it Drysdale.” 

You two escaped the bar, Ransom knowing the streets like the back of his hand. It was like the old days when you two messed around, familiar in the sense you knew that you two would hit the subway. You hated riding in the beamer around the city, and he was well aware of it. Teasing looks and touches were shared on the subway, once in a while a dirty kiss before splitting apart. “Fuck you taste good Kitten.” He muttered your old nickname against your neck as he sucked a mark against your pulse. “So addictive.” You hide a grin in against his shoulder hearing him. 

The thing that ended up surprising you was when Ransom didn't pull you to one of your regular meetup Hotels, but an actual apartment building. “What is this?” You stalled as he hit the numbers in the pad on the side of the building to be let in. 

“I moved into the city. Made more sense then having to travel all the fucking time.” Pulling you into the building and steering you to the elevator, he crowded into you once the doors shut on you two. Your head tilted back to let him skim those lips over your pulse once more and tug your ear between sharp teeth, needy fingers bunching under your sweater, and trailing fire against your skin till his touch turned into a press of fingertips biting into your curves. Your hands fisted in his cashmere sweater, brushing your face against the hard planes of his jawline, sighing in such a needy way, its been so fucking long since you’ve felt this. Felt that physical urge to just get lost in the most primal of ways. 

You two crashed into the apartment, tugging at each others clothes and stumbling into the walls, pushing back and forth till you shoved Ransom hard against the hallway wall, rolling into him with a clash of teeth and hisses when his hand fist in your hair, pulling you away to march you two closer to the bedroom, his enormous body crowding you where he wanted you. “Come on Kitten, remind me how good that mouth was again.” 

You didn't hesitate to drop to your knees on the hardwood floor and your hands twisted in his trousers to tug at the button and zipper, yanking them down his legs till he stepped from them.  “Open.” Ransom demanded while wrapping his hand around his hard cock and jerked it while you looked up at him with a begging expression, you wanted it, him. You tongue fell out to accept his offering. Perhaps you should have felt shame at your desperate actions, at how easily you turned into a whore for Ransom. You had been in a committed relationship with Neil for six months, and here you were breaking it all for a man you sworn yourself from. Ransom was not gentle about taking you apart either, which you had craved his demanding nature the past two years. His cock pressed past your lips into your wet heat, making you widen around him till he hit the back of your throat making you sputter. You tried to pull away instinctively but he held you there for a few seconds till you relaxed. “Thatta girl Kitten.” Ransom praised and his hips started to thrust into your mouth. 

“Fuck I missed seeing you like this.” He grunted as he moved your head back and forth, his hands digging into your scalp and fucked into your mouth. You clenched your thighs underneath yourself, wanting to hide that desire to grind into anything for the friction, completely growing wet with the way he just fucked your mouth how he wanted. You slurped on his cock, hollowing your cheeks to tighten around him, fluttering your tongue against that thick vein while he pressed your mouth to take more, and your nose ended up against the tight dark pubic curls, drool dripped down your chin to leave you ruined looking. 

“Grinding yourself against your thigh Slut, I can see those hips moving.” He yanked you off his cock, your tongue darting to kitten lick the red tip while looking up at him as your hands rubbed up and down his muscular thighs while he jerked himself. Seeing he was close you tipped back further as his hold allowed, whining. 

“Yes I am Ransom, fuck you for making me this way.” You whined out as you shifted your hips, rubbing your cunt as hard as possible against the back of your foreleg, wanting to get that fulfillment. 

He squeezed himself slightly to keep from cumming and dragged you back to your feet, snapping a hand against your ass to get you moving “Then let's take care of that Kitten.”  Your fingers dipped into your waistband of your panties shimming them down while Ransom grabbed palmfuls of your ass and ground his cock between your cheeks. “I got to get inside you…” He panted into the curve of your neck and as soon as you reached the bedroom, he pressed you against the dresser just inside the door. Pulling your ass out and his cock pressed between slick folds, pushing himself into you, both of you sighed in relief at the familiar sensation. You stretched around him till you were full of him, and him feeling you wrapped around him so tight, your cunt seemed to swallow him. 

He took you from behind, rattling the dresser with each pounding thrust, his hands digging permanent marks into your hips in a ruthless way. A way you had missed, hard demanding ruts, banging your hips into the hardwood of the dresser and your hands tried finding purchase against the wood when he angled and found that sweet spot that only he seemed to be able to find. Making you keen his name and he snapped his teeth, clenching his jaw till the tendons of his neck strained with the power he was slamming into you. 

“That was all it took to flood my cock, Kitten, you must be needy.” 

You sagged against the dresser but he wasn't over with you yet, it had been years since he had you with him. Man handling you to the bed, you went to your back and he fell over you. Snapping kisses against the sensitive part of your chest to the tops of your breasts, his hand dragged your bra down, the bands straining and lifting your chest off the bed while you dug your hands into his hair, pulling it hard enough for him to moan into your skin and his teeth sink into the top of your breast. 

“Ransom, no more marks.” You tried to stop him but he muttered something between the curves, drawing a swipe till he got to your nipple, latching on and pulling on it for it to swell. 

“Yea yea, got a boyfriend you can’t let see.” He said in a joking manner as a hand moved underneath you to release your bra, and he shifted your hips to settle underneath him. You slipped your hands along his chest, and curled around his neck, shrugging a shoulder. 

“Perhaps, just don't mark me up.” you snapped, and he smothered you again, lip biting kisses as he thrust into you, your legs wrapping around his slender hips, and pulling him in closer. 

As his hips rocked into you, slower than before dragging himself back and forth, he lifted to his elbows, looking down at you as you bit your lip, pressing your head back. “What's his name?” 

Your eyes spring open as your fingers dig into his back. “W-what Ransom?” 

He pressed forward, pinning you into the mattress while grinding into you. “His fucking name Kitten, what is it?” This time when you look up at him, you can see his mouth set in a thin line, and ground himself into you, making you clench around him. 

“Why does it matter?” your nails loosen slightly and drag down his back. “You never cared before.”  

Ransom then blessed you with that signature smirk, and moved his hand to your throat to tighten, and tighten enough to make you gasp out, the move making you flutter around him. “Because Kitten.” His mouth lowered over yours, teeth sinking into your lip and tongue filling your mouth and stealing the last air from your lungs. “I know you, you will never be satisfied with settling down Y/N. It's not in you. These past two years, have you actually been satisfied like this.” 

“A lot changes in those two years Ransom.” You gasped into his mouth, fighting him back now after his words, working your hips back to meet him with each thrust. “Oh better to be like you? Just fucking around. You’ll end up old and lonely without someone in your life.” Your tongue lapped at the roof of his mouth and your eyes rolled up feeling him splitting you apart. 

“Come on Kitten, you're not telling me you didn't miss this? Us? You are all I have ever needed, you know that.” Ransom demanded, and you shuddered under him, cumming just then, his hand around your neck tightened all that much further while he chased his own ending this time. Pushing you up the bed till you both were buried in the pillows. Soon you felt him paint your walls, burying himself into you till his body crushed yours down into the mattress, your thighs quivering around his waist and you were panting against his shoulder, trying to catch your breath. He lifted his head to look down at you, a brow arched waiting for an answer. “So?” 

Your fingers slid up his back and over his shoulders, staring back up at him, wrinkling your nose at him. “Why do you have to make this anything more then a good one last time fuck?” You pushed on his shoulders to turn him to his back and straddled him, covering his mouth. “Just shut the fuck up, okay?” 

Ransom's teeth sank into your palm, while grasping your hips and lifting you to sink you onto him. 

“Make me Kitten.” he hissed at you in challenge. 

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It was early morning when you both were tangled around each other, the sheets pushed off the bed, and you were using Ransom more as your blanket, soaking in that post sex haze that made you all limp. He was half snoring in your hair and you were staring at the ceiling. You closed your eyes with shame and disgust with yourself, since you were going to have to make some lame excuse to Neil about why you didn't answer your phone. As well as why you weren't at your hotel last night. 

“I can hear you thinking” Ransom groaned from above you, and you tilted your head up to see an early morning beard starting to prickle his skin, and you shifted to pull back, giving a bit of space while resettling yourself to face him properly. 

“You asked me last night if there was someone. There is Ransom… we've been dating just about six months. And he’s a good person, a decent man.” 

He rubbed at his face to open his eyes and be able to focus on you, still sleep laced as he spoke once more. “And Y/N? Why are you worried? It's not like we haven’t done this plenty of times, dating someone or not.” 

You worried your lip, sighing with a shake of your head. “That hasn't been me since I moved, I left it all behind when I left Boston. But then you come right back, and I’m stupid enough to fuck around with you again. Am I ever going to get you out of my system?” 

That made him smirk, and lean into you, kissing you dirty so early in the morning. “Now you're making yourself sound like one of those crazy bitches on the ID channel. Should I be worried about you?” 

You snorted against his kiss, pressing him against his chest to make him fall back into his spot in the bed. “If you didn’t get a bullet in your head already after the last time, you should know you're safe.” 

His arm circled around your waist, his thumb sweeping back and forth across the small of your back. “I'm glad I’m forgiven for last time Y/N. And this changes nothing that you do with whatever his name is.” 

You reached forward and let your fingers trail along the planes of his pecs, feeling guilty, but not regretting it, not really. Ransom had always fulfilled something in you that no one else ever was able to. 

“Yea I guess you're forgiven, although it was still a shitty thing to do. Come on, even you have to admit that Ransom. And his name is Neil.” You pushed to hear him admit he was in the wrong, and he rolled his eyes at you, sliding his hand to grasp an ass cheek and squeeze it in his palm.

“Did I just have to say that last time for you to forgive me Kitten? Cause fuck, two years is a long time.” 

You chuckle and shake your head. “No, I fucking hated you back then. I would have still left, I’m just now tolerating you.” You pulled back and moved to sit up at the edge of the bed. “And now I gotta call Neil with some lie about where I was.” 

Ransom moved to the other side, reaching for his boxers to slip on. “Just tell him you met up with an old friend Y/N.” 

You pushed off from the bed and tugged the first shirt you found, Ransom's sweater while leaving the bedroom to talk to Neil. With luck, he didn't answer, and you just left a message to call you back and that you were safe, that you had met up with some old girlfriends. Glancing around, it occurred to you that Ransom really did live here, not just stay here on occasion. There was mail on the counter, books and manuscripts on the coffee table in the living room, and coats hanging near the door, an abandoned dirty coffee mug near the sink. You started to pick up the clothing you two had scattered through the apartment when Ransom came out, watching you for a moment while leaning against the wall. 

“Reach the boyfriend?” He said matter of fact, which you straightened, and glanced back at him while folding some clothes and shaking your head. 

“No, but I should probably get ready to go, I'm supposed to be driving home today.” you pluck at his sweater you're wearing and he strides across the room, his fingers sliding under your chin to lift your gaze back up. 

“You know Kitten we will never really be done with each other.” He said, tilting his head. “Week from now, five years down the road, it doesn't matter when it happens again. So lose the guilt, it's not good for you. It's just the way it is.” 

He was right, you knew he was right and part of you hated him for the fact that he was right. “After all, you don't get anything better than a Thrombey, Kitten.” 

Fuck this man for having this hold on you.

Moodboard Prompt- The City

[angelthebedsheet]

Can you do a modern zuko x male reader where they vlog their day or they go on vacation. It’s okay if you can’t

a/n: ahhhh thanksies anonnie! i’ll try my best. zuko and m/n are camera transitions kings, i also have no idea on how airports work bc i’ve never been to one 💀💀, for their hotel room think of it was one of the waikiki resort hotel rooms w/ a balcony, i had fun with this!! lemme know if yall want a part 2!

lets get it yall!

“Hello, Zuko here. Welcome back to our channel. So tomorrow we’re going to Hawaii and we’re gonna take you guys with us.” Zuko said as he shot finger guns to the camera. “Right now, M/N is in the bathroom packing the last bit of his things. He’s a procrastinator.” Zuko commented. “YOU ACT LIKE YOU DIDN’T WAKE UP AT 5AM TO EVEN START PACKING.” M/N’s voice yelled from the bathroom. “He’s a liar don’t listen to him. He’s hangry.” Zuko said as he smiled.

“I’m hangry?” M/N walked to him. “Hey hey wait.” Zuko said as he turned the camera to record him. “C’mere. Imma teach you a lesson, boy.” M/N said as he rolled up his sleeves. “No wait you don’t haVE TO.” Zuko squealed as M/N threw him over his shoulder. “PUT ME DOWN!” Zuko yelled as he banged his fists on his back. “Nah you can’t talk mess like that and expect me to not attack you.” M/N teased as he walked out of frame. Zuko yelped as M/N dropped him in a chair. He started tickling him. Zuko busted out laughing. “B-Babe no!” Zuko exclaimed as he rolled the chair back. He slid back into frame with M/N tickling his sides. “Shut up and feel my wrath, pretty boy.” M/N cackled as Zuko squirmed around.

“I’m gonna piss my PANTS STOP.” Zuko cried out between laughs. M/N stopped and pressed a kiss to his lips. Zuko hummed with a soft smile. “We’re gonna edit that out?” Zuko asked. “Keep it in. They deserve to see how cute you look when you laugh.” M/N said. Zuko scoffed and slapped his arm. “Shut up. My image will be ruined.” Zuko said dramatically. “What image? You realize our fans have edits of you smiling and laughing?” M/N said as Zuko looked at him. “They do?” He whispered. M/N snorted. “Yeah they do. You’re on Twitter everyday, Zu. What do you think those profile pictures are?” M/N whispered back, amused. M/N watched as Zuko furrowed his eyebrows. He started laughing when Zuko’s face dropped. “Cut the camera, deadass. I’m an idiot, hold on.” Zuko whined as he ran a hand down his face. M/N kneeled down laughing. “It wasn’t that funny stop itttt.” Zuko said as he used his hand to cover his face. He gently kicked M/N’s side, causing him to wheeze.

“I’m turning off the camera. See you guys tomorrow, I’m tired of getting clowned.” Zuko mumbled with a small smile. “It’s just that you looked so fucking confused, I couldn’t handle it.” M/N cried. “Bye.” Zuko said as M/N raised his hand to wave. He covered the camera with his hand.

—————————-

M/N uncovered the camera with his hand. “And we’re back at the asscrack of dawn. It’s M/N here. Our plane is at 6am and we’re up at 3am. I already hate life.” He said as he wiped his eye. “Same here. Also why are you still wearing that bandana you can put on your durag. Isn’t that better for you?” Zuko commented as he looked at the f/c bandana. “Nigga why you still wearing that shirt you can put on your hoodie. Isn’t that better for you?” M/N said as he looked at Zuko. Zuko scrunched his nose and pushed M/N’s face away. “This is why we don’t speak early in the morning. His mouth is so rude.” Zuko whined. “You fell in love with me because of this mouth, sir.” M/N said. “Shush.” Zuko said as he covered M/N’s mouth. “Kinky.” His muffled voice said. Zuko groaned and wiped his hand off on M/N’s hoodie.

“I hate you.”

“Stop lying to yourself. You love me.”

“Yeah.... Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?? Guess I’ll just run away then.”

“Have fun.”

“You’re an asshole.” M/N chuckled. Zuko hummed with a smile. “But please change that bandana you look goofy with it.” Zuko said. “Garsh.” M/N commented as he set the camera down. He ducked out of frame and went to grab his durag. Zuko fixed his messy bun and threw on a hoodie. “Is that mine?” M/N asked from out of frame. “Yeah. Cry about it.” Zuko said, earning a pillow to the face. “Bitch.”

“Hoe.”

“Slut.”

“Cougar.”

“Whore.”

“Dumbass.”

“Clown.”

“Oh we’re talking about ourselves now?” M/N said with a false sense of surpise. “Low blow you lil shit.” Zuko grumbled. “I’m leaving you and asking Sokka to come with me instead.” He said. “Tah. You think Sokka’s gonna wake up at 3:30 in the morning on a Saturday? He’d skin you alive.” M/N commented. “Somewhere in the distant he woke up sneezing.” Zuko said dramatically. M/N chuckled. He picked up the camera and adjusted his backpack strap. “Autobots roll out.” He said, making Zuko rolled his eyes. “See yall in the airport, teehee.” M/N said as he held his hand up. “Did you have to say teehee like that.” Zuko said. “Stop shitting on my parade before I fart on your pillow.” M/N said. “You’re disgusting, why do I date you?” Zuko grimaced. “Because you’re stupidly in love with me and you’re whipped for my stupid ass.” M/N sang.

“N. e. ways. Before I was so rudely interrupted by this big baby—”

“I’m NOT a baby.”

“Uh I’m not finished—”

“I’m a grown MAN.”

“Oh my god, can you let me do what I need to do.”

“Go on.”

“Okay damn. As I was sayin—”

“I just think—”

“I’m gonna beat you with a tiki torch, Zuko. Shut UP. Let me do the fucking transition, fireboy.”

Zuko bit his lip to hide his smile. M/N huffed before smiling at the camera. Zuko waved. “See y’all in a few!” M/N said before covering the camera with his hand.

——————————

Zuko uncovered the camera. “Well hello there again. We’re in the airport now. It’s too bright in here.” He said quietly. “This tastes like shit. Like it makes me depressed even drinking it but caffeine.” M/N said as he grimaced at the taste. “I told you to not buy that brand. You don’t listen.” Zuko commented as he balanced the camera ontop of his suitcase. “It’s not even brand coffee.” He mumbled. “What is it then?” Zuko asked as he fixed his bun. “You wanna try?” He asked as he handed him the cup. Zuko took a sip and gagged. “That’s gonna give you some type of heart disease what the fuck is that? It tastes horrible!” Zuko exclaimed as he pushed the cup away. “Just a shit ton of caffeine shots and 5 hour energy.” M/N said.

“Jesus fucking christ. How do you drink that crap? Give that to me. I’m getting you actual coffee so you don’t die of high blood pressure before the age of 50.” Zuko said, snatching the cup away. “Zukooooo.” M/N whined. Zuko stood up. “This is basically gasoline. As a matter of fact, no more coffee for you. I’m supposed to be the coffee addict but this here is death in a cup. I’m getting you go gurt or some shit.” He said as he left. “He’s a hater he just took my gasoline.” M/N whined. He sucked his teeth and grimaced. “It was pure fuel. Can you get high off of caffeine? I mean it is an adrenaline.” He said as he fixed his durag.

Soon Zuko came back with a water bottle and a smoothie. He sat down. “Drink some water to wash that god awful mix out.” Zuko said, tossing it to him. “You couldn’t hand it to me?” M/N mumbled as he opened it and drank some, swishing it around his mouth before drinking it. “What flavour’s the smoothie?” He asked. “Piña colada.” Zuko said as he gave it to him. “But aren’t we gonna have that in Hawaii?” He asked again. “Stop complaining before I take it.” Zuko groaned. M/N shook his head before drinking the smoothie. “See you guys soon.” Zuko said, covering the camera.

———————————

There was a montage of Zuko and M/N, going through baggage claim and boarding the plane before Zuko turned the camera to face them. They waved at the camera. Zuko covered it again.

———————————

M/N uncovered the camera. “Hey girl hey, I’m in a plane.” He said. “That was awful.” Zuko grumbled as he adjusted his seatbelt. “When will you brighten up? Is it because you’re pastey?” M/N asked. “Pastey? I’m not pastey.” Zuko said. “You need some vitamin D? The sun? That good ol melanin? Cuz your panties are in a twist.” M/N teased. Zuko only rolled his eyes.

———————————

M/N recorded the plane taking lift off. There was a monatage of the plane getting higher and higher off the ground till clouds started to show. He turned the camera to show him and Zuko. Zuko rubbed his eye and waved. M/N only smiled and pressed a kiss to Zuko’s cheek. Zuko closed his eyes and smiled. He covered the camera.

———————————

He uncovered the camera to show Zuko hugging his arm while sleeping. He cooed. “See how cute he is when he sleeps? Lil chubby ass cheeks. Lookin like a dumpling. I can’t even turn on my laptop because he’s hugging my arm. He’s just so....” M/N trailed off to fondly smile at him. He pressed a kiss ontop of Zuko’s head. “Since I’m editing this video before it comes out y’all gonna see some real mushy shit because we are simply two stupid guys in love. I know some of y’all just gon eat this shit up. See y’all in Hawaii.” He said softly before covering the camera.

————————————

Zuko uncovered the camera. “We’re in a car and M/N’s out like a light.” He said as he showed M/N’s head on his shoulder. “I like him when he’s quiet sometimes. S’nice. Forgot to mention we’re in Hawaii now.” He said as he showed the scenery that passed them by as they sat in the cab. “I can practically feel the jet lag so we’ll probably stop filming after we show you our hotel room and continue tomorrow.” Zuko said, leaning his cheek ontop of M/N’s head. “We’ll be back.” He said before swiping his hand down the camera.

———————————

Zuko’s hand swiped down the camera revealing their shoes walking down the sidewalk. There was a montage of them walking into the hotel, checking in, going up the elevator and walking to their room.

——————————-

“Time for the big reveal.” M/N said as he held the keycard. Zuko hummed as he swiped the keycard and opened the door. They gasped as they looked at how cute the room was. “Bro... this is...” M/N said as he held the door open for Zuko. He walked inside showing the camera the whole room. “Cute.” Zuko mumbled. “Better than our room.” M/N said as he closed the door. M/N placed his luggage in the corner of the room and plopped down on the bed belly first. “Holy shit, Zu baby come HERE.” His muffled voice said. “Why what happened?” Zuko asked as he went to sit on the bed. “Oh my god.” He said.

“I know. Yeah no we’re gonna sleep and cuddle the rest of the day cut the camera.” M/N said as he turned to lay on his back. He kicked his shoes off and pulled Zuko down. Zuko squealed before he moved his head to lay ontop of M/N’s. He kicked his shoes off. “Welp. We’re gonna knock out. Bye.” Zuko said with a smile. M/N waved and covered the camera.

[sylvanfreckles]

Eye of the Beholder

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: Sam encourages Cas to try to express himself by taking up drawing. It seems to be a lost cause...until Castiel tries to draw Sam’s soul.

(Something warm and soft and hopeful after FebuWhump)

* * *

Sam leaned  against the low wall surrounding the picnic area park and let his head tip back to catch the warmth from the sun. They'd hit this town to check on rumors of a demonic possession at the local college, only to find Claire and Kaia had beat them here and pretty much had the whole thing taken care of. Now, he was enjoying just keeping an ear on the banter as Dean checked over the girls' gear and Jack chattered enthusiastically about the old fantasy novels he'd found on one of the rooms at the bunker (apparently Kaia had heard of the author and they were bonding, much to Claire's amusement).

A hint of movement at his side had him cracking one eye open to see Cas settle into a similar posture. Watching Dean and the kids with a fond look on his face, Cas caught Sam's eye with a smile. “He's good at that.”

“Dean's always been good with kids,” Sam agreed. “Probably because he still acts like he's twelve.”

Cas gave a very un-angelic snort, and Sam shifted around enough to watch the angel now. He couldn't remember when life had been this peaceful before. There were hunts still, sure, but it finally seemed like there wasn't some big bad pulling the strings behind it all. He couldn't remember a time in his life that had been like this—just the routine of the hunt and home, with their own network of friends and family.

It took him a moment to realize Cas's attention wasn't on the others anymore. The angel was looking out across the park at a mural painted on higher wall that ran around the park's perimeter. He was pretty it was a memorial to the town's history as part of the underground railroad, based on what he'd learned before they got here.

“I think the high school kids work on that every year,” Sam commented, nudging Cas with his shoulder. “When I was researching the town I found an article that said it was one of their graduating projects, and every year a group of students repairs and restores the mural.”

Cas shook his head and looked back at Sam. “Humanity's capacity for creation will always amaze me.”

Sam blinked. He hadn't...thought about it like that. Dean had always said Cas was just a weird little nerd, but was that why he always seemed to stop when he saw a statue, or a carving, or a painting? That it wasn't a type of art he preferred, but he was appreciating the human act of creating art?

“Have you ever tried?” Sam asked, trying to be casual about it. “Making something, I mean.”

The look Cas shot him was quick, but Sam thought his friend looked grieved. “Angels weren't made to create. We can only replicate.”

Sam started to protest, but hesitated. Zachariah's Beautiful Room...he'd offered Dean things from Dean's past, not some idealized thing he'd want. Gabriel had pulled from human television to make his TV world. Even Lucifer, in creating Jack, had used a human body to impregnate a human, not some celestial act of creation.

“Have you ever tried?” he repeated.

Cas pushed away from the wall. “There's enough in this world to admire,” he replied, though he wouldn't meet Sam's eyes and his shoulders remained tense. “You don't need my...'pitiful scratchings'.”

* * *

Cas's words twisted through Sam's head as he followed the others through the small downtown area back toward the hotel. Had Cas ever tried to make something around them? Had one of them said something like that? Or was this some distant event from heaven, some other angel stomping out any fraction of individuality?

He pulled up as they passed a small, disorganized craft store. “Hey, go ahead without me,” Sam called when Dean turned around. “We need a couple things.”

Sam waited until the others turned away, giving Jack a reassuring nod and smile, before pushing the door open and slipping inside the store. It was cramped inside, with shelves and bins overflowing, and the smell of cinnamon and beeswax filling the air. It wasn't completely a lie...they always needed things like natural pigments and scraps of leather for hex bags, and some places sold essential oils or crystals he liked to keep on hand for emergencies.

It just wasn't why he was here now. He squeezed past a rack of wooden beads and nearly knocked a dressmaker's mannequin over, but finally found the drawing section. The sketchbooks were easy enough to sort through—he grabbed a large one with a dark cover that had an elastic band to keep it closed when not in use. The pages were about the size of a standard sheet of printer paper, so it was big enough for Cas to have lots of room to experiment on each page but small enough to travel with him. The drawing supplies, though, were a little harder.

Sam stared at the selection of pencils, paints, and markers. If Cas had truly never tried something like this before, where could he even begin? Would he want something like colored pencils, that would have a smooth texture on the page but need to be kept sharpened? Or paints, which might be easier to blend and shade but wouldn't be portable? Or start with the very basics and get a box of crayons and hope Cas didn't think it was too childish?

A long, flat box at the end of the shelf caught his eye. Pastels. He had a flash of memory of one of Jess's friends in college who worked with pastels, the way their hands swept over the canvas to leave bright ribbons of color and then darted back to smooth and shade. Sam could suddenly imagine Cas, pastel stick in hand, a smear of pigment on his chin, brow furrowed in concentration as he filled a canvas with bright color.

He bought the sketchbook and pastels plus some silver charms to make a stronger protection hex bag for Claire's car, to make it seem like the drawing supplies had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. By the time he got back to the hotel Dean had already ordered pizza, while Kaia and Jack had Claire sandwiched between them on the couch as they tried to convince her to watch an old fantasy movie with them (Sam was on their side, Willow was awesome). Cas looked up from picking at the label on his beer bottle when Sam walked up to the table, eyes widening further in surprise when Sam set the bag from the craft store down in front of him and presented the drawing supplies with a flourish.

“I thought you might like to try,” Sam explained as he pulled out a chair and sat down next to Cas at the room's little table. “I mean, I'd kind of be interested in seeing an angel's...uh...'pitiful scratchings', you know?”

Cas hesitantly ran the tips of his fingers over the dark cover of the sketchbook. “Sam...”

“Just try?” he suggested. He scooted closer so that his shoulder brushed Cas's, knowing the physical contact helped when the angel was dealing with something new or difficult. “No one's gonna laugh if you can't do it. Well, maybe Dean, but he's an ass.”

“I heard that!” Dean shouted. As far as Sam could tell, his brother was completely focused on something on his phone. That was obviously just an automatic response.

The angel was quiet. Then, slowly, he tugged the pastels out of the bag and lifted the lid of the box. The colors almost seemed to glow under the room's overhead light, and Cas gently brushed the bright gold stick with the tip of one finger. “I'll try.”

“Good,” Sam bumped Cas's shoulder with his own, then leaned a little more closely against him, grounding him. “I can't wait.”

* * *

Sam bit his lip as he flipped through the first few pages of Cas's sketchbook. The angel leaned against the table almost despondently, arms folded across his chest and head tipped forward so that Sam couldn't see his eyes.

“These are good,” Sam said, trying to sound encouraging. “I mean, they look just like the, uh, things you were sketching. That's...that's good.”

Technically speaking, the sketches were good. There was a vase of wild flowers Kaia had put on the kitchen table the second day of her and Claire's visit. The bust of one of the old Men of Letters. Jack's profile as he read from a large leather-bound book. They were perfect and lifelike and exact, yet somehow...empty.

Cas took the sketchbook out of his hands and gently folded it closed. “Angels weren't given the breath of life,” he said, his voice quiet in the stillness of the library. “We can't...we can't create, Sam. All I can do is copy. These are copies of life.”

Sam winced. “Maybe you just need some practice. I mean, this is your first time, right? Nobody's perfect their first time.”

His friend's smile was sad when Cas finally looked up at him. “I feel no inspiration, Sam. I look at the world and nothing calls to me. The flowers and Jack...I chose those because I knew that was what a human might choose. I could have just as easily chosen the scalpels in the infirmary, or the backseat of the Impala, or every doorknob in the bunker. There's no...it's not creation, Sam. They're just copies of life.”

With a sigh, Sam ran one hand through his hair. “Cas, a lot of artists struggle with that. Maybe you just haven't found the right thing yet. With some more time I bet you could find the, the soul of a vase of flowers, or whatever.”

Cas grunted. “Flowers don't have a soul.”

“You know what I mean. Artists, they...they capture a part of themselves in the world around them. Their art reflects their own soul, you know?”

“I don't have a soul either, Sam.”

“You know what I mean.” Exasperated, Sam took a few steps away, then paced back again. “When you look at something that kind of pulls at your heart, you can make something that has a bit of your soul in it, you know? It's what humans have done for thousands of years, even longer.”

Cas let out a mournful sigh and rubbed one hand over his eyes. “If you could see your own soul you might understand,” he said wearily. “Compared to that even an angel's true form is inadequate.”

Sam huffed out a breath. He'd just wanted Cas to have a new experience, maybe find a hobby that could bring him joy. He hadn't meant to start some kind of identity crisis. Then his friend's words caught up to him. “Wait...Cas, are you saying you can see my soul?”

His friend gave him a flat look. “I am still an angel.”

“No, no, I mean...you can see my soul?”

“Of course, Sam.”

Heart pounding, Sam spread his arms out. “Then draw that!”

Cas stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “Why would you want to see something like that?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I want to see it!” Sam turned in a full circle before grabbing one of the library chairs and dragging it in front of Cas. “Is this good? Or, wait, do you need better light?” His soul through the eyes of an angel...who wouldn't want to see that?

There was still hesitation in Cas's movements as he slowly picked up his sketchbook and lifted the cover off the box of pastels. “You're sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Cas flipped to a clean page and stared over the top of the sketchbook at Sam. Sam waited, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Do you need me to do something?” he asked, when Cas made no move to start drawing.

Cas frowned, then reached in the box for a pastel. “Just talk. About one of your passions.”

A passion...okay, Sam could do that. Like Dean had always said, he was a huge nerd. “Oh, I found that book about cuneiform we were talking about,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “You were right, the author was completely ignorant of the language schism toward the end of the Bronze Age....”

He talked on and on while Cas drew. The angel glanced up at him from time to time, a little smile brightening his face. It was almost exactly the image Sam had conjured in the craft store...Cas with a smear of pigment on his chin, bright colors filling the page in front of him. As he drew the angel seemed to relax, the perpetual slump of his shoulders easing back, the worry lines in his forehead smoothing out.

Sam could have pumped his fist in victory. He knew this had been a good idea.

Then Cas set the pastels down and hesitantly pulled the lid over the box. He seemed unsure of himself again, tipping the picture up to makes sure Sam couldn't see it.

“Is it done?” Sam asked. “Can I see?”

For a moment he was afraid Cas would refuse, then the angel slowly turned the sketchbook around.

Sam had seen human souls before...or at least he thought he had. They'd been wispy balls of bluish light, nothing too amazing. This was...this was something else.

The page was a riot of colors. Sweeping and dazzling, greens and blues with threads of red twisting through them, all turning back in on themselves over and over. There were jagged cracks in the swirling shapes, but they'd been filled in with a golden color so vivid he almost brushed his finger over the page to see if it felt warm.

“In some cultures,” Cas's voice was quiet as he explained, “when an item is broken they mend it with gold, so it is more beautiful and valuable because of the cracks.”

Sam drew in a breath. “This is how you see my soul?” The cracks...memories of Lucifer and the Cage, everything they'd lost, the darkness he'd hidden for so long...Cas saw them mended in gold?

“Oh, Sam,” Cas's hand was warm on his shoulder and he looked up, surprised to see tears in his friend's eyes. “This is you.”

He swallowed and looked back down. There was so much...so much hope. Despite it being almost incomprehensible swirls of color on paper, he could feel the hope and faith and trust nearly radiating off the page. Was this...was this really what Cas saw in him?

“Whoa, am I interrupting something?”

Sam pulled back, scrubbing a sleeve over his face. He hadn't even heard Dean coming. “We were just,” he tried to explain, gesturing at the page.

Dean was staring, tilting his head to one side. “Okay, man, call me crazy, but why does this look like Sammy?”

He let out a shaky laugh and ran his hands through his hair. “That's my soul, man.”

“You drew this, Cas?” Dean was leaning in even closer. “Ha, yeah, there's the little part that died when I told you Santa wasn't real. It really is your soul.”

Sam couldn't help but smile at his brother's antics and looked up to meet Cas's eyes. “Can I have this?”

“No way,” Dean interrupted, putting his hand on Cas's wrist.

“Dean, it's my soul.”

“Yeah. We're framing it,” Dean took a step back and held his hands up, like he was envisioning the drawing in a frame. “This is going next to the family pictures, Sammy.”

“We don't have family pictures, Dean.”

“We do now,” Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder. “You should do Jack next. I'll get 'im.”

“Wait,” Sam lunged after his brother. “What about you?”

“Not happening,” Dean replied, easily twisting away from Sam's hand. “Let me go get the kid.”

* * *

Jack, predictably, was thrilled. He sat in front of his adopted father, eyes bright, as he talked about his first memories of Castiel. Sam stood behind Cas's shoulder and watched the picture take shape—all interlocking golden halos bursting out of a dark shadow, radiating a light that was somehow yellow and blue at the same time that banished that darkness away. It was peace. It was strength. It was family.

It was Jack.

Claire and Kaia were next, crowding together into one of the big armchairs with their fingers intertwined. Sam had been expecting some kind of double drawing, maybe two pages side-by-side, but the drawing Cas produced was somehow Claire, somehow Kaia, and somehow a blend of the two of them that went beyond anything the human eye could see.

“That's what it looks like to be soulmates,” Cas explained when Sam asked.

When they went back to Jody's house with the girls, Jody sat for a drawing. Her soul was all graceful arcs swooping around a central, solid core. Sam could almost feel it extending beyond the page, pulling them all together around the woman who had chosen to care for the motherless.

There were others, as hunters checked in at the bunker or they met them in the field. Eileen's soul was a fury of purple and silver, sharp with the kind of love that dove into battle with sword held high. Bobby's was a blend of muted shades that spoke to the loss the older hunter had experienced, and his determination to carry on.

Sam was dropping a new sketchbook in Cas's room one day, a few weeks later, when he spotted a few loose papers that had fallen out of the old one. Meaning just to pick them up and shuffle them back in, he was startled to find he had a picture of Dean's soul in his hands.

It couldn't be anything else. While Sam's had had cracks mended with brilliant gold, Dean's looked like it had been broken and pushed in on itself over and over, more like overlapping plates of ice from a lake that had been melted and refrozen. There were layers and sharp edges, and a few twisting shadows of darkness that lingered in odd corners.

But it was warm. Despite the cracks and the broken parts...despite the trauma and ache and pain it was good. It was the soul of a man who loved so completely he would—and had—lay down his life for his family.

He heard a shuffle from the doorway, and turned to see Cas was standing there, staring at the paper in his hands with something like guilt on his face. “Sam, I...”

“When did you draw this?” Sam asked in a whisper. “He kept saying he didn't want you to do it.”

Cas hesitated, then approached close enough to gently take the drawing from Sam's hands. “It was from memory. Dean and I have always had a connection, since I pulled him from Hell.”

Sam almost laughed. “A more profound bond?” he teased. Cas's lips twitched in a smile and he nodded. “We should hang it up with the others.”

Shaking his head, Cas frowned down at the drawing. “He keeps saying no one would want to see it.”

“Well, he's wrong,” Sam looped an arm around Cas's shoulders. “Come on, I know where he stashed the extra frames.”

[artificialqueens]

Pretty Please (Oneshot, Branjie) - Holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (word count: 3965)

Brooke’s not the jealous type. She’s not. Or at least, that’s what she tells herself, until an old classmate of Vanessa’s tests her on that assertion just a little.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the wonderful comments on ‘it’s nice to have a friend,’ I’m so happy that it was so well received and enjoyed. Here’s a quick trip back to the 'nobody knows where we might end up’ verse, in case anyone has missed neurosurgeon Brooke and cardiothoracic surgeon Vanessa. I was supposed to write this fic for Barbie last Christmas, if that tells you anything about how quickly I get things done. At least it’s here now? Thank you as always to writ for betaing and being the best <3

Brooke likes being Vanessa’s arm candy sometimes.

It gives her an opportunity to soak in just how brilliant her girlfriend is. Sure, Brooke’s known it since they were in undergrad with their heads buried in textbooks, but it’s magnified now, more than a decade later. Because the way Vanessa’s in her element when she talks about her research and her practice is almost mesmerizing to watch, and Brooke knows she’s not the only one who’s impressed.

From the standing ovation that Vanessa’s presentation gets after she’s finished talking? She’s just that good.

“Great job, babe.” Brooke whispers to Vanessa once she sits back down, squeezing her hand. “I feel bad for the poor sucker who has to follow that.”

“I’m just glad I could answer all of the audience questions,” Vanessa shrugs, “being in the early stages of the study and all. There’s still so much that we haven’t done yet.”

“And yet you were a rockstar. Proud of you. Now you get to enjoy the rest of the conference.”

A cardiothoracic surgery conference doesn’t normally fall under Brooke’s domain. Cardio is a little out of her element, with even the basic ideas being discussed requiring her to wrack her brain to recall exactly what they mean. Except that Vanessa’s team is making progress in their research, enough to present at symposiums and conferences to create some waves in the cardiothoracic surgery world and sue Brooke, she likes watching her girlfriend succeed. It doesn’t hurt that the conference is taking place in San Diego, either, because any chance to get away from the bitter cold of the Toronto winter is one that Brooke will gladly grab on to.

Besides, it’s kind of nice to turn her brain off for once. At this conference, Brooke gets to relinquish the notion of being an expert, unlike the neurosurgery conferences that she goes to every year. She doesn’t have to pay attention to the latest research and techniques or present any of her own findings, nor does she have to work her ass off to build connections with fellow neurosurgeons. At this conference, she can sit back and watch Vanessa do it all herself.

It’s an interesting feeling, becoming more settled in her career. Brooke knows that younger Brooke, even five, six years ago would feel like a fish out of water at this conference, intimidated by all the information that she doesn’t know. Except that now, Brooke knows what she’s good at. It may not be cardiothoracic surgery, and honestly? She’s okay with that.

Because Vanessa gets to be the one to dazzle everyone.

Vanessa’s surrounded by audience members once the current round of presentations is completed, forming a swarm around her to praise her work and ask her more questions. Brooke plops down beside Vanessa’s research partner, Jimbo, who’s already looking for places nearby to grab lunch.

“You’re not gonna help her out with that crowd?”

Jimbo shrugs. “Nah, she’s got it. I got my eye, meanwhile, on the shawarma place across the street.”

“They do give us a boxed lunch at this conference, y’know.” Brooke tries to hold in a laugh at the deadpan expression that Jimbo throws at her.

“Two slices of white bread and an apple. Delicious.”

Brooke rests her cheek on her palm, her eyes absentmindedly scanning the groups of people around the room. There are fancy suits and pencil skirts and button downs but there’s even a guy in jeans who Brooke remembers had presented in the morning. Brooke herself is in a pantsuit, because hey, even if she has nothing to contribute to cardiothoracic surgery, she may as well look good. Vanessa’s dress compliments her outfit by accident, the navy trim nearly the same colour as her suit. Brooke likes it.

She lets her mind wander to what they’ll do this evening once the conference wraps up for the day, because their hotel has a spa but they’re also near the beach, and maybe Brooke can catch some sun before it goes down, and-

“Brooke! C’mere!”

“Huh?”

Jimbo snickers when Brooke nearly falls off of her chair at Vanessa’s yell, and Brooke tries to ignore the burning in her cheeks that is only present when she’s caught not paying attention. It’s not her fault Vanessa’s audience still wants to talk to her about her research.

Vanessa’s gesturing to her to come over, and Brooke can’t help but smile back at Vanessa’s excited grin. Surely, whoever Vanessa wants to introduce her to must be great, and worth getting up from her comfy chair for.

“This is Jackie Cox. Cardiac surgeon out of Mount Sinai in New York. We…go way back.” Vanessa’s smile is shy as she reaches out, squeezing Jackie’s hand.

Jackie herself is smiling, too, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear before pushing her glasses higher on her nose. “More than way back. Med school level way back. How would I have gotten through Genetics I without you?”

“Jesus, I still have nightmares about that class.” Vanessa shudders, and then her and Jackie are giggling, and Brooke can’t help the way her brow furrows.

Who even is this woman?

“Not gonna introduce me?” Brooke keeps her tone light because hey, she’s polite. Maybe Jackie is nice enough.

Vanessa claps a hand over her mouth. “Jackie, this is Brooke Lynn Hytes. Neurosurgeon extraordinaire.”

“What’s a neurosurgeon doing at a cardiothoracic surgery conference?” Jackie’s tone is friendly enough, but Brooke can’t help but bristle slightly, take a step closer to Vanessa.

“Just here to support my girlfriend.” Sure, the arm she snakes around Vanessa’s waist is a bit overkill, but Brooke can’t help it. Not when it makes Jackie’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“Oh! That’s lovely!” Jackie’s smiling, friendly as ever, but a little part of Brooke feels smug, especially when Vanessa tucks an arm around her waist, too. “I was going to ask Vanessa to grab some dinner after the conference is done for today to catch up and reminisce a little, but I  suppose I should ask the both of you. Would you happen to be free afterwards?”

Vanessa’s looking up at her, eyebrows raised as if she’s leaving the answer to Brooke. It’s all too easy for Brooke to shake her head, put on her most convincing expression of disappointment.

“No. Busy, sadly. Dinner plans and after-dinner plans.” Brooke smiles at Jackie, channeling as much brightness as she can. “Another time, though! I’m sure we’ll run into each other again!”

Vanessa’s rolling her eyes as they walk away after saying goodbye to Jackie. “Wanna explain what that was about?”

“What?” Brooke answers just a little bit too quickly, because Vanessa lets out a snort. “I was perfectly friendly and professional.”

“Ah, yes, because ‘perfectly friendly and professional’ is becoming weirdly threatened by someone I went to med school with.”

Brooke scoffs. “Threatened? I’m threatened.”

She isn’t.

“Then why did you just practically drag me away from her after saying our goodbyes? Wait.” Vanessa pauses, her eyes widening for just a second before they’re filled with absolute glee. “You’re jealous!”

“Jealous? Who said I’m jealous? I’m not jealous.” Brooke sputters, but it’s no use, because Vanessa is grinning and looking a little bit too smug. Brooke huffs, crossing her arms. “She was being weird!”

Vanessa has the ability to read her almost too easily, after knowing her for so long. It’s nice sometimes, but other times, like now? Brooke feels exposed.

“She was not being weird. Jackie and I dated for a bit back in med school before realizing we were better off as friends.” Vanessa gives her a pointed look, but Brooke can’t help but feel a little vindicated.

“Ha! I knew I was picking up on some sapphic vibes. That girl is most definitely not straight.”

Vanessa, though, rolls her eyes. “Of course she’s not straight, dumbass. She’s married and has a wife. And three pet cats. But most importantly? A wife. Which you now won’t get to hear about because you turned down an invite to dinner with her.”

“A wife?” Brooke squeaks out the words as she feels her cheeks heat up, because shit.

A wife. Jackie’s married. She wasn’t hitting on Vanessa.

Whoops.

“Sinking in now, is it?” Vanessa’s giggling, though, and wrapping an arm around her waist. “You’re something else.”

“You don’t think she noticed, did you?” Brooke can’t help but think back to the interaction with Jackie. “Do you think she thinks I’m an asshole? I should apologize. Should I apologize?”

Brooke’s probably gone and pissed off one of Vanessa’s friends. Maybe she should ask if Jackie would reconsider dinner. It would be the nice thing to do, right?

Especially knowing Jackie is already married.

“Jackie is going to be just fine, babe.” Vanessa grins, looking over Brooke’s shoulder. “Especially considering the fact that she’s waving at us from the Starbucks line at this very second.”

Brooke turns, looking over her own shoulder in the direction of Vanessa’s pointed hand, and sure enough, Jackie has a grin on her face while waiting for her order. Brooke joins Vanessa in waving back, her friendliness a little more genuine this time.

“It’s cute that you were jealous, though. You rarely ever are.” Vanessa’s smirking as she whispers the words under her breath, and Brooke has to fight back the indignation that immediately bubbles up.

It’s true - they’re back together and doing so well, and, for all intents and purposes, Brooke feels comfortable and secure with Vanessa. She knows she has nothing to worry about, that Vanessa’s her person and that she’s Vanessa’s, too. There’s very little that can shake the foundation that they’ve built together, which is why Brooke’s unbothered when guys ask Vanessa for her number, watching amusedly as she finds creative ways to turn them down. She doesn’t mind if other girls hit on Vanessa, mostly because Vanessa’s the first one to stand up and put them in their place.

Vanessa has a handle on herself, and is more than ready to express her own commitment. It’s nice, knowing that Vanessa is the one, that Vanessa feels the same way about her, too. That they’re in this together.

Funny how a girl in brimmed glasses can manage to shake Brooke’s confidence in approximately thirty seconds flat.

Brooke isn’t jealous, though. She doesn’t get jealous. A fact that she wastes no time in reiterating to Vanessa with a scoff. “I don’t get jealous. That’s not me.”

“Sure, it wasn’t you becoming edgy beside me and wanting to move away from Jackie as fast as possible, but not before, let me mention, wrapping your arm around my waist at the most opportune time. Definitely not jealous.” Vanessa looks positively smug, and Brooke huffs, because, well?

She’s a little bit right.

“Okay, maybe I was a little bit jealous.” Brooke grumbles, as Vanessa lets out a snicker. “Just a little, though. Not that much.”

“Mhm. Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.” Vanessa pats her arm, and Brooke has to hold back the urge to pout.

There’s a million different ways that Brooke can embarrass herself at a conference for a surgery specialty that she isn’t a part of. Acting like an idiot in front of an old friend of Vanessa’s, though? An unexpected turn of events.

“I feel a little stupid, now. She was nice enough. Especially since she’s married.” Brooke wonders what Jackie’s wife is like. With their luck, her wife’s probably here at the conference and Jackie is going to tell her all about Brooke being weird at their first meeting.

“You’re relieved at that part, aren’t you?” Vanessa’s grinning as she leans forward on her tiptoes to whisper in Brooke’s ear. “If it makes you feel better, it was hot. That jealousy. Though you didn’t hear it from me.”

Vanessa takes a step back, then another and turns on her toes to head towards Jackie and the Starbucks line, and Brooke’s frozen in place for a millisecond while her brain tries to comprehend what Vanessa’s just said.

The rest of the day goes by slower than Brooke wants it to, the presentations and research talks taking her back to the cardiothoracic units in med school that she would always want to skip over while studying. The slow ticking of the watch on Brooke’s wrist isn’t helped by the fact that Vanessa looks positively smug. Well, not smug, exactly. More excited. Full of anticipation.

It’s not hard to know why Vanessa’s smirking, either, not when she’s putting a hand on Brooke’s back when they walk between conference rooms, and when her hand is ever so lightly tracing on her thigh when Brooke’s trying her hardest to pay attention to the guy presenting about a new method of AV node ablation.

“Behave.” Brooke mutters the word under her breath when Vanessa’s hand starts creeping a little bit higher on her thigh, though the words have absolutely no impact, by the way that Vanessa’s eyes are gleaming as she glances up at her.

“Or what? You’re gonna punish me after?” Vanessa’s snickering as she crosses her own legs, knowing damn well how effective the subtle motion of her thighs is at driving Brooke crazy.

Though Brooke isn’t one to let Vanessa win so easily. “No. Or I’ll go to bed early tonight after a riveting episode of Jeopardy and leave you to take care of the problem between your legs by yourself.”

Brooke really, really hopes that the audience members around them are paying attention to the presentation and can’t hear a word of what they’re saying. It’s worth it, though, when Vanessa’s eyes widen and her bottom lip pushes out ever so slightly.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Maybe I would.”

“Maybe I’ll go to dinner with Jackie, then.” Vanessa’s smirking, flipping her hair over her shoulder and Brooke hates it, really, how easily it makes her skin prickle. “While you watch your Jeopardy.”

Jackie’s married, Brooke knows that. Her and Vanessa are solid and healthy and they trust each other and she has nothing to worry about at all, but there’s a little voice in the back of her head. One belonging to a little green eyed monster that whispers that Vanessa is hers, that she isn’t Jackie’s no matter what sort of dating history they had back in med school, and that there’s no way in hell Brooke wants to share.

“Maybe you should watch what you’re saying now so you don’t have to pay for it later, princess.” Brooke mutters the words into Vanessa’s ear as the audience begins to applaud the presenters, their presentation presumably coming to an end.

It’s exactly what Vanessa wants and has been baiting her for, and it shows from the way she bites her lip in anticipation, hooking Brooke’s pinky with her own.

“Promise?”

Vanessa is pliant in Brooke’s arms when she pushes her against the wall in the entrance of their hotel room, sucking in a breath that Brooke steals with a biting kiss. Brooke kicks the door closed with her heel, not bothering to lock it because she has more important things to attend to. Namely, her girlfriend who’s keening under her touch and trying to climb on her tiptoes to get closer to her.

Brooke pulls back as Vanessa chases her lips for a kiss, the corners of her lips curving up when Vanessa lets out a little whine.

“Why so desperate?” Brooke trails a hand up Vanessa’s side, the other planted against the wall and boxing her in.

Vanessa’s breath is coming out in pants, her fingers hooking onto Brooke’s belt loops. “Come closer.”

“You need me that much, huh?” Brooke leans down, placing a biting kiss on Vanessa’s neck, tugging just a little bit longer than she should in a way that’s going to show on Vanessa’s skin later on.

“Just come here-”

“Tell me. How much you need it. Need me.” Brooke trails the hand along Vanessa’s side up to cup her tit, her thumb brushing over the lace that she can feel through the fabric of Vanessa’s dress.

Vanessa’s whimper is immediate, her body already trembling under Brooke’s touch. “I…I…”

“What was that?” Brooke pulls her hand back, resting it against the wall near Vanessa’s shoulder so that she’s boxed in between her arms. “Tell me.”

“Need you so bad…” Vanessa’s squirming under Brooke’s gaze, but she’s tugging on her belt loops fruitlessly, trying to bring her closer. “Been thinking about this all day.”

“All day, huh? Even when you were presenting? Were you that horny, baby? Only thinking about us coming back to the hotel room?” Brooke presses another kiss to Vanessa’s neck, drags it down to her collarbone.

Vanessa’s cheeks are crimson when Brooke pulls back, biting at her already swollen lip. “Maybe.”

Brooke finds the zipper on Vanessa’s back, drags it down until her dress pools on the floor around her ankles. Vanessa is hot to the touch when Brooke brackets her sides with her palms, her fingers pressing small indents into her skin. “Beg for it, then.”

Vanessa’s too far gone to play their usual game of being a brat and teasing Brooke back until they’re both worked up, and instead the words fall from her lips in a way that makes Brooke want to squeeze her own thighs together. “Please, I need it, need you, I’m being so good, right, please fuck me, please-”

Brooke swallows her pleas with a kiss, tugging at Vanessa’s bottom lip before pulling back and Vanessa is a vision, with her mussed hair and dazed eyes and unsteadily balanced on her feet.

“On the bed.”

The way Vanessa leans back on her hands as she settles herself on top of the sheets is mesmerizing, her legs crossed almost demurely. It’s a sight that Brooke takes the time to drink in as she undoes the buttons on her blazer one by one, throwing it over the back of the desk chair. She keeps her shirt and slacks on, though, if only for the contrast that they create with Vanessa’s lingerie. The bed squeaks as Brooke leans against it, rolling up her sleeves to her elbows before straddling Vanessa, her knees against the mattress on either side of Vanessa’s hips and her palms nestling themselves into the sheets above her head.

“So pretty.” The words aren’t intentional but Brooke can’t help it, not when her girlfriend never fails to take her breath away, even when she’s the one who’s supposedly in control tonight.

“And all mine.”

The whine from Vanessa’s lips and her subsequent sharp intake of breath curl around Brooke like rings of smoke that she has to wade through to press kisses down Vanessa’s neck, along her collarbone, across the top of her cleavage. Vanessa’s hands fist themselves in her hair, and Brooke can feel Vanessa’s heart pounding underneath the areas of red that she decorates along her skin.

“All yours.” Vanessa’s breathless, already trembling underneath her and Brooke wants nothing more than to keep pulling her apart. “No one else’s.”

The words don’t need to be said, necessarily, not when Brooke already knows that they’re true and run through the fabric of her and Vanessa’s relationship. But they still calm the part of her brain that likes to act up every now and then, the one that starts second guessing and expects things to take a turn for the worse, even though with Vanessa, they never really do anymore.

The words are a comfort. A spoken truth, one that reminds Brooke of how lucky she really is.

Vanessa’s already wet when Brooke drags the pads of her fingers across the fabric of her panties, her thighs squeezing together around Brooke’s hand. She eases them apart, pulling off Vanessa’s panties all together before kissing down her stomach and past her hip bones. She dots a kiss on the inside of Vanessa’s thigh, and it makes Vanessa reach down and grab her hand for a second before letting go.

Brooke takes her time, savouring Vanessa’s gasps and moans as she teases at her folds. She works Vanessa up at a pace that would normally have her grumbling to hurry up, already, but today Vanessa’s too far gone to care, her hands fisting in the sheets below her, the rise and fall of her chest erratic.

She circles her tongue around Vanessa’s clit before sucking on it in a way that always makes Vanessa mewl, using one hand to hold Vanessa’s hips down onto the bed and to keep them from bucking. Brooke’s other hand drags up Vanessa’s thigh before tracing her folds as she lifts her head up, admiring the sight in front of her.

“Tell me who you belong to, baby, if you want to come.” Brooke crawls back up until she’s face to face with Vanessa and has the perfect view of how her thumb against her clit is already making her tremble.

Vanessa’s eyes are squeezing shut with a gasp when Brooke pushes a finger into her, a gasp that Brooke wants to hear again and again. Vanessa’s hot to the touch and Brooke feels like she herself is going to burn up, too, which is why the goosebumps rising along both of their skin make absolutely no sense. Brooke slows her pace down a little until Vanessa’s whining, her hips canting up and begging for more and she covers her face with the crook of her arm.

“I belong to you, I’m yours, all yours and no one else’s.” The words are mumbled and end with a moan when Brooke adds another finger, keeping the torturously slow pace that she knows drives Vanessa crazy.

“I’m the only one who can get you like this, huh? All worked up and whiny and dripping down my palm because you can’t hold yourself back?”

Vanessa, for her part, is hanging on by a thread and can barely kiss back when Brooke licks in her mouth. “Please, please-”

“No one else can fuck you like me, can they, baby?” Brooke speeds up, then, tilting her wrist slightly to get the angle against Vanessa’s clit that never fails at getting her to the edge.  

When Vanessa comes she’s whining with her face buried in Brooke’s neck, her hands uselessly fisting in the fabric of her shirt. Brooke pulls her thumb away from Vanessa’s clit first when Vanessa lets out a mewl but keeps the pace of her fingers, pumping as Vanessa’s squeezing around them.

Brooke takes each finger into her mouth one by one when she pulls back, sucking them clean, but it’s all for show, really, because the sight of Vanessa watching her with dazed eyes is one that she’s never going to tire of.

“No one else can fuck me like that, that’s for damn sure.” Vanessa lets out a breathless giggle, grabbing the front of Brooke’s shirt to pull her in for another kiss.

Vanessa’s eyes are soft when Brooke pulls back, and the swell that she feels in her heart isn’t because of the sex, necessarily. It’s the way that Vanessa continues to look at her with complete adoration even all these years later, enough that Brooke sometimes feels the need to pinch herself to see if it’s really happening.

“Always yours, baby. You never have to worry about that.” Vanessa reaches up, tucking a lock of hair behind Brooke’s ear.

It’s true. Brooke really doesn’t. But sometimes, it’s nice to just hear it again.

Brooke’s about to reply when Vanessa shimmies in her grip, grabbing at her hips and-

“Hey!”

“My turn.” Vanessa snickers from her new position, straddling Brooke’s hips with her thighs and her hands waste no time, already working on Brooke’s shirt buttons.

“‘Cause I’m all yours, but you’re mine too, babe. All mine.”

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Sunflower - Harry Styles AU Series (Volume 3)

The year is 1977 and it’s officially summertime. Y/N is spending it with her family at the Malibu Breeze Hotel, where she meets, aspiring musician, Harry Styles. The two clash in the beginning, but soon realize they may just need each other in the end. Find out just how life changing one summer can be in Sunflower, a Harry Styles AU. 

      Here is part 3 of Sunflower. Hope you enjoy it! 

    Vol. 1    Vol. 2 

Word Count: 2,913  The next morning I woke up just as the sunrise started peeking through the window in our room. I sighed rolling out of bed knowing I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Not that I really slept much after last night anyway. The adrenaline and anticipation of what might happen next took over my body despite knowing how tired I really was. Marianne most likely wouldn’t wake up for at least another three hours, so I decided to head down to the beach.

I changed into my bathing suit before pulling on some flowy pants and a shawl just in case it was a bit chilly. I quickly brushed through my hair before grabbing my book and my sunglasses to head out. I left a note for Marianne just in case and closed the door as quietly as I could.

When I made it down to the beach, I noticed how empty and quiet it was. It was soothing and peaceful being able to hear the waves crashing along the shore without the noise of chatter from the either guests on the beach. The sun shined bright as I walked along the shore with my feet in the water.

There were only a handful of people at the beach, a few of them being workers setting up chairs and umbrellas for the guests, and a couple who were walking or running. I held my book against my chest, afraid I might drop it into the water and it would be ruined. I paused briefly to capture the remainder of the rising sun above the water.

After a few minutes, I took a seat down on the sand and opened my book. I hadn’t really read much while I’ve been here, putting some much time in to work on my song for the audition. The audition I wasn’t sure I would even get and if I did I had no idea how I would tell my parents. My father probably wouldn’t approve of it mostly because he would see it as a distraction for what was to come in the fall with me heading off to University.

Or because he would view me as being more like Marianne and not myself. However, both of my parents know how much music means to me, as least in the sense of it being a hobby. But if I did get offered to be in Harry’s band, maybe that would show them that it’s more than just a hobby for me.

The wind started picking up a bit, blowing my hair in my face and the pages of my book around. I was focusing so hard on trying to read through the blowing pages that I didn’t realize someone approaching me until I saw their shadow. I glanced up and quickly saw Harry standing there.

He was shirtless, showing off even more tattoos and yellow running shorts. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark, black, sunglasses.

“Um, hi,” I said awkwardly, putting my bookmark in my book.

Instead of answering or telling me why he was here, he sits down next to me. There’s still quite a bit of space between the two of us, but I can still feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Sorry for uh.. approaching you like this,” he said. “I saw you while I was running,” he coughed.

I nodded looking at him completely confused on where he was going with this. I wanted to ask him straight out about last night and why he was currently in my presence, but I couldn’t bring the words to leave my lips.

“Um, yeah, so I thought I’d get this out of the way and let you know, we decided you’re in,” he said.

Wait… what?

“In?” I asked, waiting for him to elaborate.

He sighed, “The band, look, you’re real good, and seem like a cool chick, I guess, but I just don’t know if our music is right for you.”

“Excuse me?” I asked. “I’m not following you… I’m in, but you don’t think I’m right for your music? What does that even mean?”

“Look, you seem real nice and shit, but the music scene isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. The tag line Sex, drugs, and Rock N’ Roll exists for a reason,” he said.

“Are you trying to say I’m too… too innocent?” I asked with annoyance dripping from my voice.

“I mean… yeah,” he said scratching his head.

“Well last time I fucking checked, you don’t know a damn thing about me,” I snapped. “And even if you were right, who the fuck cares… You said it yourself that I’m good and what your band needs. I know it. Your band knows it. Jasper knows it. And you fucking know it. I don’t get what it is that you don’t like about me, but if this is your way to try and get me to not join your band, then you’ve got another thing coming, Styles. I’m gonna show you just how wrong you are.”

I didn’t even bother to give him a chance to respond before getting up from my spot on the sand and walking away leaving him behind.

**

Later that day, I was sitting by the pool trying to forget about my encounter with Harry a few hours earlier. I couldn’t believe he spoke to me in such a way. Actually, I can because he’s always been an ass whenever I saw him before, so I don’t know why I thought he would be any different. I guess the biggest issue was because he said even though I was good, I wasn’t a “good fit” for the music.

What the fuck did he even mean by that? I stared at the blank page of my journal and started writing down my thoughts. I had written about half a page when I noticed someone blocking the sun for the second time that day.

“Can I help you?” I sighed looking up at Jasper, who was standing there holding a bright, pink, fruity drink on a tray.

“Yep, he was right,” he said sitting the drink down on the table next to my chair.

“One who was right and about what, two I didn’t order anything,” I told him, looking at him for a drink.

“I saw Harry this morning and he told me about your uh conversation this morning about how he fucked up,” he said. “So, I offered to bring you a drink as a bit of a peace offering.”

“Do you really think a fruity little drink with a paper umbrella is gonna make a difference?” I rolled my eyes.

“No, but it is a conversation starter,” he said sitting down on the chair opposite of mine.

I sighed, taking the glass in my hand, sipping it, “Let me guess, you’re here to do damage control?”

“In a way,” he winced. “Look, Harry can be a major dick, I’m not denying that.”

“So, then it’s not just me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope, he has his moments with everyone,” he said.

“Riight,” I said. “Anyway, let’s get to why you’re really here.”

He sighed, “After hearing about what happened this morning, we’re afraid you’re not going to take the offer.”

“Oh, you mean the offer that I’m good enough for, but not the right “fit” for,” I asked. “And is Harry included in this “we”?

“Yes and no,” he said. “It’s complicated with Harry. He knows you’re what the band needs to set them apart from what’s going on in the local music scene, but his pride is fucking with him.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Think about it… how would you feel if you’ve spent years trying to make a name for yourself and not getting anywhere and then someone finally gives you a tip saying it’s cause you're missing something. Which is basically saying you’re not good enough,” he said.

“Oh, um, yeah, I can see why he’s a bit of ass,” I sighed. “I guess I didn’t realize.”

“So, what do you say,” he said. “Will you at least give it a shot? A few practices, a gig?”

I sighed, looking down at the drink in my hand, “But what if he’s right? What if I don’t fit…”

Why was I second guessing myself? And why was I so open with talking to Jasper, when he was still technically a complete stranger.

“Hey, he’s not right and even he knows that,” Jasper said. “Just give it a shot and if you don’t feel like you’re a fit, then fine. But let it be your decision.”

I sighed with a nod, “Okay.”

“Groovy,” he smiled. “Here’s the deets on where to meet us. See you tonight.”

I take the slip of paper from his hand, “Thank you.”

He gives a small smile before getting up from the chair and heading back to work. I sighed, pushing hair out of my face and opened up the note.

The Soundbooth. 10pm.

**

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when I showed up at The Soundbooth. I brought my guitar just in case it was needed and I got help from Marianne with my outfit. I wasn’t going to change myself to fit in with the band, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t change up my clothing style a bit. When I arrived, the building was smaller than I had imagined, but given the name I don’t know what I thought it was going to be a bigger venue.

As I waited in line, I quickly thought it may not have been the best idea for me to come alone, but my only option was to bring Marianne and while we were getting closer, I still wasn’t ready to bring her into my world. Not that this was really my world yet. Once I was finally inside, the place was even smaller than it appeared. People were packed in like sardines. Tables and chairs were practically on top of each other. My grip tightened on my guitar case as I searched around for a sign of either Jasper or Harry. I secretly hoped I could find Jasper first because I wasn’t sure how I would react if Harry saw me and seemed annoyed at my presence.

Surely, he must know I was coming after my conversation with Jasper, but even if he did know I’m sure there was a part of him that wished I hadn’t come. Unfortunately, Harry was the first one I saw, he was standing at a table close to the stage. I sighed debating on walking over there or just finding a spot in the back, but I knew the latter isn't really an option. If I was serious about not only being part of the band, but also proving him wrong, I had to do everything I could.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed my way over towards Harry and where he was standing. I wasn’t sure what I would say when I got there, but it was too late to turn back now.

“You came,” Harry said, sipping his drink once he noticed.

“Doubt I would?” I asked, sitting my guitar down.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t,” he said.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve ever lied to a female,” I mumbled.

Harry sighed running his hands through his hair, “I uh.. Look, I know we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot or whatever…”

“Bit of an understatement, but yeah,” I interrupted.

He rolled his eyes, “I’m trying to apologize, okay? I’m sorry for what I said this morning, but this… this is my life and if you’re going to be in my band, then I need to know you’re serious about it and this isn’t just some extra curricular type shit for you.”

I sighed, feeling a little guilty about my own behavior towards him, especially after my talk with Jasper earlier that day.

“No, I get it,” I told him. “Music means a lot to me, too. I would never do anything to jeopardize that for myself or anyone. Including you, I wouldn’t have gone to that audition if I wasn’t serious about it. I never would have sat through all those horrendous auditions and then made you listen to me, if this wasn’t something I wanted to do.”

“Good to know,” he said. “So, for tonight, I thought it would be good for you to see what one of our gig’s looks like and what our music sounds like. That way if you know exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”

I nodded,”Cool.”

“You can sit here, but I’ll be going backstage to warm up. We can talk more after the show,” he said.

“Okay,” I nodded, pushing myself up onto the barstool.

Surprisingly, he gave a small smile before walking away. Since I would be there for a bit, I decided to order myself something to drink and something to snack on. About five minutes later, Harry and the band come on stage. I don’t know why I felt nervous, but my palms were starting to sweat and my stomach felt like it was in my throat.

The first song they performed was very upbeat and once again it didn’t take long to notice that Harry was made for being on the stage. Even though the stage was barely a few feet long, he made sure to take up every inch of it. I definitely wasn’t that kind of performer, but if Harry was the front man, I wouldn’t need to be. With each song they played, I started picturing myself up on that stage and trying to figure out where I would be needed.

I was so focused on my own thoughts, I had completely blanked out on the show, until I heard Harry talking to the crowd.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He smiled. “I hope you’re enjoying our songs and having a groovy time. We don’t get to do this, if you don’t come to our shows, so thank you.”

The crowd cheered and hollered with their drinks in the air. I smiled a bit as I looked around.

“Now, we’re gonna do something a bit different tonight for the last song,” he said. “I want to bring a special guest up on stage.”

My head quickly snapped in the direction of the stage, I’m pretty sure I gave myself a bit of whiplash.

“We uh… have a friend in the crowd tonight and I’d like for her to come up here and perform for you all,” he said. “Y/N?”

My mouth drops as my eyes widen at the realization of why I’m really here. He had planned this all along. That sneaky bastard. I can’t believe he would set me up like this and without warning. If I could throw something at him, I would. But this is exactly what he wants. He wants me to freeze up, to run away, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. I down the remainder of my drink, jump down from my stool and grab my guitar. I walk up to the stage, feeling my body shake from both nerves and adrenaline. When I made it to the stage, popped open my case to retrieve my guitar, I could tell Harry was a little shocked.

I put my guitar over my shoulder and looked over at him, while Jasper brought out a second microphone.

“So, Harry, since this was your idea, do you have a song in mind?” I asked.

“Ladies, choice,” he smirked. “It’s only fair.”

“I assume you know Landslide?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He looked back at his band, who all nodded.

“Then let’s go with that, shall we?” I asked.

“Sounds good,” he said.

I looked out at the crowd as everyone’s eyes were staring at the stage. The bright lights of the stage were blinding me, but I could still feel everyone’s gaze on me. I took a deep breath before I started playing the opening chords on my guitar.

The audience got quiet, only a few murmurs, “I took my love and I took it down. Climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills till the landslide brought me down, “I sang softly, nodding my head at Harry to take the next verse.

“Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? Hmmmm,” Harry sang next.

“Well, I’ve been afraid of changing. Cause I’ve built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older and I’m getting older too,” we both sang together.

We continued on with the rest of the song, staring at each other as we did. I’m not sure what it was, but singing with him felt so natural, so easy.

I couldn’t help but feel something burning inside of me as we sang the final line together, “Oh, the landslide will bring it down.”

I strummed the end note on my guitar as the audience cheered the loudest they had the entire night. But it didn’t matter how loud they were because all I could hear was the beating of my heart as Harry and I remained where we were, our eyes never losing contact.

**

Welp, here it is! Finally. Let me know what you think and if you hav anything you want me to include for the next update! :) 

[xwaywardhuntress]

You’re Not From This World (Part Seven)

Summary: Imagine the boys get sent to an alternate reality again without you, which leaves you stuck with the Winchester look-alikes, Jensen Ackles, and Jared Padalecki.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader, Jensen Ackles x alternate world!reader

Warnings: Both worlds POV, Swearing, Internal injuries, Gunshots

Words: 4700+

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. This is fanfiction only. Please do not redistribute my writings on other sites, horrible or not. Thanks!

Author’s Note: Holy Moly, this one is twice as long as the last part. Next part is already pretty long too, which may or may not be the last part, depending on how I split it. Welp, hope y’all enjoy. <3

Catch Up: Part One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

Arriving at the motel, the moment everyone was through the door of your motel room, you turned around with your hands on your hips. “Alright, convince me otherwise why I shouldn’t send both of your asses back to the bunker this instance?”

Jensen and Jared looked at each other and gulped. Jensen cleared his throat as he took a step toward you. “We’ve technically dealt with a witch before. A real witch.”

“Yeah, yeah. And I shot at her. We’ve got some experience with witches.” Jared added.

The boys were not making a very compelling case for themselves as you let out a sigh and shook your head.

Before you could speak, Jensen jumped in again, “We have an idea of how Dean and Sam think and we’ve played them for basically a decade now. And I know for a fact, Dean wouldn’t have let you leave on your own.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that the latter part of Jensen’s words were true. Since you first started hunting with the brothers, you hadn’t hunted by yourself in a long time. There was also the fact that there was always some bigger issue to deal with than the usual monster hunts. You sighed as you took a seat at the edge of the bed in the motel room. “You’re right. He wouldn’t. But….” You paused for a moment. “This wasn’t exactly a hunt. I told you guys before, I just have to grab the ingredients from another witch. I don’t plan on killing anybody or fighting anyone..” …Unless it comes down to it. You finished the sentence in your head as you knew there was a slight possibility there could be a confrontation, since it was the mother of the witch you had just killed recently. Jensen and Jared weren’t on the level of need-to-know at the moment.

The two actors continued to try to convince you to let them stay and help as they brought up past witch cases.

In the back of your mind, you already knew that the moment they showed up, they weren’t planning on leaving unless you literally dragged them back to the bunker. You sighed, giving in. “Fine. You both can stay…under a couple of conditions. One, you listen to what I say. You may be able to act like Dean and Sam but I’m the one with the real experience here…”

Both of the boys nodded their head in agreement, internally patting themselves on the back for being able to get you to let them stay.

You continued, “Second, you both are not allowed to go off on your own. No matter what you hear or see. Got it?” You narrowed your eyes at them.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Is there more?” Jared asked.

Getting off the bed, you walked over to your duffel as you grabbed an angel blade and tossed it on the bed in front of them. “Lastly, you’re both going to learn some basic combat and practice shooting better. Just in case.” You grinned at them.

Jensen and Jared looked at each other and gulped. They had a feeling that learning some basic combat from you would be much more intense than what they were used to from the trainers from the show.

- - -

Back in the actor’s world, the older Winchester woke up to the smell of food and sunshine. He grabbed a pillow and placed it over his head. “Why…so bright?” He mumbled underneath the pillow.

“About time you woke up. I ordered you breakfast after Cat insisted, but it’s probably cold now.” Sam shared as he had already been on one of the borrowed laptops researching ways for him and his brother to return back to their world.

Dean squinted one eye as he took the pillow off his face slightly to look at his brother at the table by the sofa bed. “Would you mind?” He asked, referring to the open windows where the sun shined brightly through.

There were two sets of curtains that would cover the window. A lighter set which was see through and then a darker set meant to block out the sun entirely. The younger Winchester gave him one of his infamous bitch faces as he pulled the lighter set of curtains to cover the window. “Some sunlight might still be good for you.”

Dean groaned in the bed as the sunshine was still a little too bright for someone who was just waking up. Eventually he got out of bed, his first stop was the coffee maker in the hotel room. Once he had his cup of coffee in his hand, he made his way over to the table Sam was sitting at already. When he spotted the food on the table, he couldn’t help but grin. “Damn, we need to stay in hotels rather than motels if you get this kind of breakfast all the time.”

“That’s all you’re going to get, Dean. They stopped serving breakfast over 30 minutes ago.” Sam stated.

“Fine by me.” Dean smiled as he forked some eggs and placed it in his mouth. Once the eggs were in his mouth, he made a face. “It’s cold.” He complained but still ate the eggs.

“If you hadn’t slept in, you wouldn’t have missed the food when it was hot and ready.” Sam explained, not having or showing any pity towards his brother.

Dean glared as his brother’s attitude towards him. He grabbed a bacon off his plate and threw it in his mouth. “At least I can count on bacon to be good hot or cold.”

The younger Winchester rolled his eyes at his brother’s comment. “Hurry and finish eating so you can start helping with finding a way to get back home.”

“Okay, mom.” Dean mocked, when he finally realized another body was missing in the room. “Where’s Y/N? I mean Cat?”

“She went to the studio to tell the TV crew and their bosses that Jensen and Jared are still not feeling well enough to work and also to pick up some scripts.” Sam explained.

As if rehearsed, the door to the hotel room jiggled as Cat came quickly walking through. Without even closing the door herself, she spotted both of the brothers awake and at the table, to her relief. When she reached them, she slammed a stack of papers on the only empty area left on the table as she flipped through and stopped at a particular page.

“You okay, Cat?” Sam asked concerned as he stared up at his friend’s doppelganger from this world.  

“Yeah, where’s the fire?” Dean asked looking behind her to play off his question. His plate of food was completely empty now.

Catching her breath, she pointed to a particular word on the page. Both boys looked at her questioningly and then leaned over to view the word. The word was portal. Immediately, Jared turned the stack of papers towards him as Cat took a couple of steps back to sit on the pull out sofa bed that had not been put away yet. She needed to catch her breath from rushing up here.

“What does it say?” Dean asked eagerly as he stood up to close the door she had left open. They didn’t need non-invited guests listening in.

Sam had been reading the page in his head. Once finished, he looked up at his brother, “It’s a spell to create a portal to another dimension.”

“So we found a way to get back to Y/N?” The older Winchester questioned, hope filling his eyes as he sat back down in his seat.

The younger Winchester turned his attention to Cat before answering his brother. “Where did your writers get this?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s a start. Our writers are known to do their research and try to use as authentic as it gets supernatural artifacts and spells.  I just remembered there were some issues before I started the show that Jensen once told me about. Apparently, there were some actual artifacts they used that would cause weird stuff to happen. Eventually the writer’s used what they found in their research as a baseline and would change some things to prevent anything weird from happening again, if what they found was real.” Cat shared, her breathing back to normal.

“So this world does have some supernatural in it.” Sam commented, almost happy about this news.

Cat chuckled, “I guess so.”

Dean looked between his brother and the actress. “So then we have a way home? We can get back to Y/N?”

Sam looked at his brother with a hopeful smile. “I think so. But…” He paused. “We’ll need to see what the spell is based off of. From what Cat said, the spell written in this script was changed from the original, we need to find out where the original spell is written. I have a feeling that an arch angels grace is one of the items they changed to fit the show more.”

“That sounds like a good guess. We can check out the storage room on set. Eric showed me it one time and said they kept any information they found that were used in the show there, just in case they needed to look back at previous research information.”  Cat added.

Dean stood up abruptly, “What are we waiting for? Let’s get going and find the original spell. Then we can click our heels together back to Kansas.”

Sam stood up as well, ready to find the original spell as both boys began walking around the room, gathering what little belongings they had with them.

As great as the plan to find this original spell seemed to be, Cat couldn’t help but think of one problem. “We can’t go till tonight.”

Both boys turned to look at her, but it was Dean who spoke first, “Why not?”

“I told everyone that Jensen and Jared were still not feeling well. Even though they shut down production for the day, there will probably still be crew members there to prepare for tomorrow, just in case the leads, you two, do feel better. We should wait till night to go to make sure you two aren’t seen.” She suggested.

“She’s right.” Sam agreed. “It’ll probably be bad for us to show ourselves when Cat has been telling them that Jensen and Jared are sick enough to not work. For now, we can try to search through the internet if we can find the spell.”

Dean sighed, knowing that his brother and Cat were right. All he wanted was to get back to you as fast as possible.

- - -

Back in the Winchester’s world…

After you gave a once in a lifetime basic training of how to handle an angel blade and got in a few practice shots until you were satisfied with Jensen’s and Jared’s performance, you all went out to a local diner. The three of you grabbed some quick grub as you also explained each ingredient you would be looking for: a fruit from the tree of life, the seal of Solomon, the blood of a most holy man, and an arch angel’s grace. Most of the items, you had an idea of what to look for. The one you were unsure of was the seal of Solomon. However, based on research before the boys showed up, you had narrowed it down to be some sort of pendant. After explaining what you would be looking for to the boys and finishing the food, you all headed out to stake out Remy’s mother’s place.

This time the Impala had been parked at a more inconspicuous location, out of sight from the targeted house. Luckily the neighborhood had one road in and out. All that you had to do was wait for Remy’s mother to leave her house and drive by. From your scouting earlier, you had learned from a male neighbor that the women along the street attended a happy hour bingo event, which just happened to be tonight. You did find it weird that a witch would go to a bingo event, but all witches had some kind of unexpected interest.

As you waited with Jensen and Jared in the impala, you’d thought it would be best to go over the plan one more time with them. “Alright, so what are your roles again?”

“Stay in the car and keep an eye out for the witch’s return.” Jared stated almost too proudly.

“And if she comes back while I’m still in the house?” You asked raising a brow as you looked between both actors.

Jensen groaned, just like Dean would, “Call you to tell you and still stay in the car.  We are not allowed to leave the car.”

“And then if anything really bad happens, we call Cas.” Jared added.

“That’s right!” You smiled at them.

“I don’t get it. If this is ‘not a real hunt’…” He used his fingers to create quotation marks. “…why do you have to sneak in to get the ingredients?” Jensen asked eyeing you.

You rolled your eyes, “Look, like I said earlier, I’m not planning on fighting her or trying to kill her. And to ensure that doesn’t happen, I just won’t make any direct contact with her. Plus, witches always want something in return. I don’t have time to deal with that.”

“Are you sure one of us shouldn’t go with you to help you look for the items? They could be anywhere in the house.” Jared asked.

“I’ll be fine. If this witch is one to play off being normal, she’ll hide her witch belongings all together in one place in the house. I just have to find that one place.” You shared, knowing that you could be wrong.

Before Jensen could get his opinion out, a car’s headlights lit up the road in front of the Impala. Everyone in the car ducked, except you. You peeked through the window as you watched Remy’s mother drive by in the car you had seen earlier parked at the targeted house. Remy’s mother had looked almost exactly like her daughter, except only an older version. Once the car passed by and took a turn at the stop sign behind the car, you got out of the car. Before you closed the door to the Impala, you leaned down and looked between the actors, “You guys know what to do. I’ll be back in a bit.”

After leaving the boys in the car, you broke into the witch’s house easily. The inside of the house was pretty normal looking till you reached the kitchen. There were herbs and containers all spread out around the kitchen counters. It was actually a mess. What really caught your attention as you entered the kitchen was a bright light running vertically in the air. “Alright, don’t know what that is so let’s not touch that.” You spoke to yourself as you began wandering around the kitchen looking for the ingredients.

Conveniently, all the materials you were looking for were grouped together by a bowl near the tear in the air. There was only one thing missing which was a glowing container, which you had seen before as an angel’s grace. Worrying about that one item later, you began to grab the rest of the items that were present. As you grabbed the pendant first, a bright light emitted from the tear in the open space sending you backwards. When the light cleared and you adjusted your eye sight, you saw a figure standing in front of you. It was Remy’s mother. “What the hell?” You swore you and the boys saw her leave in her car.

“Who are you? And what are you doing in my house?” The witch asked you as she caught sight of the pendant in your hand.

Your eyes followed the witch’s eyesight to the pendant in your hands. You chuckled embarrassed as you held your hands out in front of you, one holding the pendant. “Listen, I’m not here to hurt you or fight you. I just need some ingredients you happen to have. That’s all.” You tried reasoning with her as you began walking on the other side of the kitchen island from where the witch stood. If you could get behind it, you could use it as cover and grab your gun with witch killing bullets. A precaution that you deemed necessary to bring and thankful you did.

The witch watched you as if she was studying you. “Why do you need that pendant?”

“Long story short, I’m not sure. I’m being paid to get certain materials. You happen to have some of them from what my contact told me.” You lied your ass off, which you didn’t think the witch was buying with the way she was now glaring at you.

“Liar!” The witch yelled as she used her magic to throw you against the kitchen cabinets. You hit the cabinets hard, breaking some as you fell to the ground in pain. “Who are you?!” The witch yelled as she began walking over to you.

Despite the pain, you were able to reach behind you for your gun. Quickly pulling it out, you sat on the ground and pointed it at her. “I wouldn’t take one more step if I were you. It’s loaded with witch killing bullets.”

The witch stopped walking. “You’re a hunter.” She stated as she scoffed, “And you said you weren’t here to hurt me, yet you carry a gun with bullets to kill my kind.”

“Just a precaution to keep myself safe.” You commented as you slowly stood up with the gun still pointed at the witch. “Now, I’m just going to grab a few things and then I’ll be on my way. That’s all.”

“What makes you think I believe you? I don’t trust hunters.” The witch stated.

“I can say the same about witches, but you’ll just have too if you want to continue on living.” You shrugged as you had begun walking around the kitchen island again as you made your way to the ingredients you needed.

The witch watched slowly as she began putting together what you were after. “No. I know what you’re after.” She mumbled to herself as she threw her hand up to throw you against the wall again.

You had squeezed the trigger twice the moment you felt yourself being pushed away. One shot hit the witch in the shoulder but it didn’t kill her. How was that possible?

She forced you against the wall unable to move with a smirk on her face. “Well, it looks like your witch killing bullets failed. Now tell me, where is he?” Her smiled turned sinister.

You struggled against the force she was using against you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You weren’t lying, you really had no idea what she was talking about.

Remy’s mother smirked before throwing you against the cabinets again and then back against the wall. The throw definitely hurt a bit more. “Let’s try this again. You’re after the ingredients to create a portal, which means you’ve dealt with my daughter. And I assume she’s dead. Her death finally made her useful because that means he is free now. So where is he?”

Hearing her speak of her daughter so harshly, you spat in the witch’s direction as best as you could. The witch was talking about Remph, that much got confirmed to you. You lied again, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, bitch. Condolences on your daughter though.” This time you were the one to grin at her.

The witch glared at you as she threw you against another wall that broke, causing you to hit a wall in the living room area and fall to the ground. Your whole body ached as you could taste your own blood coughing up your throat. You definitely had something broken or fractured now.

“Fine. You don’t want to tell me? I’m sure those boys are around here somewhere. I’ll get one of them to tell me where he is. So now, I have no use for you.” Remy’s mother began lifting you up off the ground and began choking you.

This was not the way you wanted to go out. Being killed by a witch was probably one of the most terrible ways to go out. Without thinking, you prayed to Cas for help. You even prayed for a sliver of hope that your Dean would somehow come save you as he did on occasion.

As you felt yourself beginning to lose consciousness, you heard the front door bang open as multiple gunshots were fired. Dropping to the ground, you were fighting to stay conscious as you spotted two familiar faces. “Sam? Dean?” You mumbled to yourself as you were a bit incoherent at the moment.

It was Jensen and Jared. They managed to get two shots at the witch, one on her arm where you had shot her shoulder earlier and one on her leg, causing her to now limp. The shooting continued as you tried to watch the events. You heard footsteps turn into running as shouting followed after.

A set of arms soon surrounded you. “Y/N? Hey, you’re going to be okay. Stay with me. Sorry for not following your rules. I’ll be right back.” The deep voice said as you were left alone again. The reality of what was really going was becoming clearer after almost being choked to death.

“Jared!” Jensen shouted out for his friend who had followed after the witch when she had started running away with a limp. He met up with his friend in a trashed kitchen. The witch was standing in front of something both boys had never seen before with her hand reached out towards the unknown and a grin on her face. A bright light emitted and then disappeared, along with the witch. “Where’d she go?” The older actor asked.

“She disappeared into this like tear in the air.” Jared tried explaining. “I’m pretty sure we shot her, and with witch killing bullets, but she didn’t die?” Both of the boys put the safety of their guns back on and placed it back into their pockets.

“The same happened with me.” You spoke from the kitchen entrance, leaning against one of the walls that was still intact. You began coughing up blood as you started sliding down the wall you were leaning on. You were able to fight off the feeling of passing out, but you knew you had some kind of internal injury from the way the witch had thrown you around like a ball.

“Y/N!” Both of the boys called out for you, but it was Jensen who caught you.

“The ingredients….” You managed to say before coughing up more blood.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get it.” Jensen looked over at Jared, telling him through his facial expression to grab the ingredients. Jared shrugged as Jensen waved his hand around, mouthing to just grab everything. “Can you walk on your own? I’m going to help you back to the car.” You nodded your head as Jensen slung one of your arms over his shoulders acting as your support.

“You both didn’t follow my orders…” You quietly spoke, but Jensen still heard you as you approached Baby.

“Yeah, well Cas called us and said he heard you pray to him. But he couldn’t come since something was happening with Remph. We weren’t going to do nothing, so we ran to the house…” Jensen explained.

“…guns a’blazing.” You finished his story.

“Yeah…” He said as he helped you into the backseat of the Impala. “Get some rest. I’ll go back and help Jared grab the ingredients before the witch comes back. And then we’ll drive by the motel, grab your things and head back to the bunker. Luckily, we’re not too far from the bunker, so Cas can heal you when we get back and you can beat us up for not staying in the car as told.” Jensen winked at you.

You couldn’t help but smirk, shaking your head, “Definitely getting your asses kicked when I’m fully healed….” And with that said, Jensen left you to help Jared as you found yourself closing your eyes to get a moments of rest.

- - -

“Son of a bitch!” The deep voice yelled aloud.

“Shhh” Two voices shushed the older Winchester at the same time.

“This place has a night shift security guy named Tom, so you need to quiet down, okay?” Cat asked as she continued rifling through stacks of papers that were previously boxed up.

Dean groaned at the lack of findings they were having as they had been searching through the boxes for over an hour now. None of the boxes were labeled. Opening another box, he pulled another angel blade prop as he waved it in the air and watched this specific one wiggle a little. “For every fake angel blade that I’ve come across so far, I’d be one rich man I tell you.”

“Once the angel arc began, the set was filled with angel blades. You’d find them everywhere. I’m pretty sure there’s enough around here for each cast, guest stars, and crew members to take two home for themselves whenever the show ends.” Cat shared.

Dean frowned in thought as he considered taking one himself.

“Dean, quit playing around with the fake angel blades and keep looking.” Sam huffed.

“Bitch.” Dean called out rolling his eyes.

Sam returned the usual banter. “Jerk.”

Cat smiled at hearing the Winchester’s banter. It was one thing when she heard Jensen and Jared act it out, but hearing it from the real deal themselves was more amusing. While going to grab another box near the storage entrance door, Cat heard the sounds of items being moved around nearby. She quietly peeked her head out the door as she looked for any signs of security guard Tom. If he had caught her, she’d lie about wanting to practice with one of the old props for a future scene or something. Tom was a pretty chill guy and they’d met before on late set shoots. When she continued to hear the noises of objects being moved around, she walked over to the boys, whispering, “Guys, I think there is someone on the sets.”

“Works in our favor. While the security guard checks them out, we should be safe.” Dean commented as he continued to go through his current box he was working on.

“Okay...” Cat lingered on the word before returning to what she was doing. After about ten minutes, she heard a loud thud as if something fell over. The boys had heard it too when everyone looked up and looked at each other. After a visual agreement, it was decided to check it out. Making their way out of the storage room, the boys followed Cat towards the set area. They found a shelf filled with filming equipment to hide behind as they spotted a figure in the bunker set.

“Oh my god.” Cat whispered as she spotted another figure on the floor. “That’s Tom, the security guard. Is he dead?” She asked, feeling a chill run up her spine.

“I can’t tell from here. But, Cat, do you recognize the woman?” Sam asked quietly.

“No. I’ve never seen her before.” Cat answered.

Dean wrinkled his eyebrows together as he checked out the woman. It wasn’t until he saw her face where he had an inkling feeling that she looked kind of familiar.

The woman in question began laughing out loud. “This is the spot. I can feel it. It will open here and I’ll get revenge on the Winchesters and that woman.”

Dean and Sam looked at each other as Cat looked between them both.

“It seems like maybe it’s the other way around and you guys knows her?” Cat questioned as she looked back over at the woman who seemed to be preparing for something.

“She looks a bit familiar.” Dean answered. “I can’t put my foot on it right now.”

Before Sam could answer, a bright light appeared before the woman. The light ran down vertically in front of her.

“What the hell?” The boys and Cat all asked in confusion as another bright light emitted from the vertical light line and three figures appeared.

To be continued in part 8!

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[cadday]

Collateral Damage- Chapter 3

t’s dark and silent and it feels like he’s drowning in it. There's a vague glimpse of light in the distance and he tries to push toward it but he feels himself being pulled further and further down. ‘You should just give up, cooperate and sleep, it’ll be easier on you if you do.’ He fights violently then at the sound of that man’s voice and wishes he could scream but he can’t. Hearts can’t scream not in a way anyone can hear. The man’s laughing at him, the speck of light is gone and Braig isn’t sure which way is up or down, he’s drowning in nothingness. No one can hear him, no one cares. They aren’t coming, he’s drowning, and..

Dilan’s grip on his arms will probably leave a bruise but right now he couldn’t care less because he’s awake and it’s bright and oh god someones here. Dilan looks shocked though and slowly loosens his grip when Braig continues to stare at him and gasp for air because thank christ he can breathe. Dilan let’s go slowly when Braig seems stable and Braig almost latches on to his arms himself. He doesn’t want him to leave. But then Dilan is sitting on the side of the bed just watching him.

“You were screaming.” And Oh that actually makes sense. He had deffinetly wanted to scream in his nightmare, dream, memory, thing he was having. It made sense that the first chance he was able to again he would. Then it occurs to him if he could scream he could maybe..

“...sss” Well he was a snake now because he had meant for that to be words of some kind but nope. His frustration must have been showing on his face because Dilan put a comforting hand on his shoulder before he stood.

“Your fine. Come on, Aeleus took guard shift today so I figured we would walk around, Even said you were cleared for that much.”  He held out a glass of water to Braig and he frowned at it till he remembered  the pills on the side table. Sitting up he downed that and the water and then carefully pulled himself out of bed. Dilan watched him blankly then nodded.

“Get dressed and we’ll see about breakfast too. Do you need help or…?” Braig gave him what he hoped came across as the most irritated look he could muster. Dilan laughed and shrugged. “Alright, I’m outside when you fall on your ass, just I don’t know throw something at the door when you wipe out.” Braig tried to kick him but Dilan stepped around it and didn’t comment when he stumbled slightly in the process.

The door shut behind him and Braig set about pulling open a drawer with uniforms like Dilan and Aeleus wore. He thought of another uniform with black coats and groaned as his head began to ache slightly. This had to be what he was meant to wear though, it was in his room and it was at least familiar. Once dressed though he looked in a mirror and found that something looked wrong but he didn’t know what. 

Carefully he made his way to the door and swung it open to find Dilan leaning against the wall outside.

“Took you long enough, you re...ady…” Braig gave him a confused look and looked around then back to Dilan. Dilan raised a hand to his neck to mime something and then stopped.

“You're not wearing...Nevermind. It just was different.” Braig looked down at the uniform. He couldn’t remember what else he was supposed to wear. There was something else? Dilan didn’t have anything else. Was it something important? 

Dilan must have seen his confusion because he stepped off the wall with a frown.

“Is it missing, maybe it had to get cleaned. We can ask Even later, I didn’t think about the fact that it probably had blood on it. You were wearing it when, well you know.” Braig just nodded too whatever Dilan was talking about. He was sure he would remember it when he saw it. The only other thing he could ever remember wearing though was a stupid black cloak.

Dilan and he wandered down to breakfast in silence. 

No one else was in the kitchen when they entered and Braig glanced at the time and wasn’t surprised that it was closer to lunch than breakfast. Dilan noticed and shrugged. Braig ate quickly and Dilan didn’t really eat much of anything so he assumed the other had eaten well before then. When he was done he was practically vibrating in his skin, he wanted to go outside so bad. He knew it was crazy, technically he was outside a couple days ago, granted bleeding out in the process, but still he wasn’t some princess in a tower her whole life. But Braig had been locked up. Locked up inside himself and that had been terrifying and lonely and so dark. So standing outside the castle now in the sun and fresh air with Dilan walking quietly around familiar grounds with him he was practically beaming. They walked till he was too tired and needed to take a break.

“I’m going to check in with Aeleus, he should be nearby. You okay for a minute or do you want me to wait for you?” Braig snorted and waved him off. Dilan kicked one of his feet. “Don’t pass out while I’m gone.” Braig swung at his arm but only grazed him as Dilan laughed. He was grinning though. This felt right, more right then he had since waking up. 

“I was wondering if he had actually injured you beyond usefulness but here you are lazing about.” Braig’s stomach dropped so fast that he was sure he was going to puke. Then he turned to face the voice and yeah he was going to puke. “Are you ignoring me over a petty injury, pathetic. Still I have a job for you, you have a role yet to play.” 

Braig stood up and made to leave and he felt the thing get summoned. Turning he looked down at Luxu’s stupid keyblade with as much disdain as he could manage. Braig looked back at this old man with his plans, and keyblades, and just tried to convey hate with every fiber of his being. If he hadn’t shown up maybe none of this would have happened. But no Luxu would have found a way, Luxu had been here already waiting for an opportunity. He wasn’t here now though to push Braig’s heart and body to where he needed it until it was too late to fight back. He could fight back now. 

“I take your silence as defiance. It can be expected, but I am afraid I need vessels and you are already in too deep.” He is pointing the stupid keyblade at him and Braig is suddenly very aware he isn’t armed. So he drops and rolls away from the lunge which surprises the old coot and is probably the only reason he is able to take off the minute the bastard misses his target. His heart feels like it’s going to bruise his insides the way it's beating so hard but that’s fine because that means it’s still there. He’s been possesed enough in his lifetime to know he isn’t doing this again. He isn’t some freaking heart hotel. 

He books it down and alley and like the coward he is at the moment hides and prays the old coot decides he isn’t worth the struggle at the moment. Braig hears footsteps though and covers his mouth to hide his breathing, and he swears to god if the bastard puts a piece of his heart in him again after he just escaped Luxu he will off himself any way he can. He hears the footsteps stop then somethings grabbing him and pulling him away from the wall and he wants to scream but it’s not the old man. It’s some girl with blue hair. She’s looking at him concerned and Braig isn’t sure who the hell she is but she’s just looking at him then looking around like she was expecting, something.

“Hello, are you alright?” Braig stares at her, she stares back so without a better response he just shakes his head. She nods slowly and looks in the direction he came from. “It might sound strange but have you ran into anyone not from around here besides me?” He is starting to remember why he knows this girl. She has a keyblade. He nods to answer her question and she suddenly looks so serious. “Was it…”

“Xehanort..” Is what he chokes out and he is frustrated thats all he can say but he needs to do something because he remembers, he remembers the other kids. Terra and the twerp. They don't deserve what the old coots going to do. Aqua for her part looks murderous at the mention of Xehanort’s name and Braig likes this kid a lot. “Terra..don’t...fight...lose. Stop.” Aqua stops looking pissed long enough to look confused and concerned and Braig is cursing his life because he can barely choke out an explanation but he needs too because this is all one big trap and death wish and just this once he doesn’t want to be the freaking asshole. “Don’t..let..to..grave.” He’s cringing at his own cracking voice. At the words coming out wrong and hopes Aqua understands, god please understand. Aqua for her part puts a hand on his shoulder and nods so seriously he wants to do more laughing and crying just to get the frustration out. 

“Okay, I will take care of it. Terra’s lucky to have met a friend like you.” Braig wants to laugh hysterically at that. He wonders what will happen if Terra gets out of this and Aqua tells him who saved his skin. “Do you live around here? I can walk you back just in case.” He snorts at the thought but glances back the way he came and shrugs before pointing at the castle. Aqua looks temporarily surprised then grins. “Seems I have a knack for rescuing princesses.” Braig startles and realizes he’s being mocked and well if she wants to be like that he is justified at shoving her shoulder and being slightly annoyed when she barely budges and laughs at his irritated expression. He tries not to be impressed that her arm was basically all muscle. Seriously she could probably bend press him if she wanted.

“Alright well lead the way.” Braig nods and does just that. He is thankful for Aqua’s offer. Though he realizes he probably doesn’t deserve it. 

They reach the castle entrance and he turns to thank her when he hears a commotion. Then he realizes the commotion may be about him because he definitely hears Master Ansem calling his name. Turning he grimaces as Ansem, DIlan, and Aeleus are all headed their way. Aqua laughs and he looks at her confused.

“Are you sure you're not the princess?” He tries to kick her and she steps back out of the way easily still all smiles. 

“Braig, what is going on? Dilan said you were gone and considering what has happened we feared much worse.” Turning Ansem looked at Aqua with a frown. She bowed slightly which Braig didn’t think was really necessary, Ansem was a king technically but he barely acted like one. Mostly he acted like an over bearing father. 

“I apologize. My name is Aqua. I was passing through looking for my friends and...Braig made an attempt to assist me after he was...” Braig shot her a panicked look and Aqua frowned but continued. “After I ran into him.” Dilan was looking at him oddly but if he noticed he didn’t say anything. Ansem nodded and smiled at Aqua. 

“Well you have my thanks for bringing him back. Braig was recently injured and there were concerns that whatever caused it may have come back. I’m glad it was not anything of the sort. You have my gratitude and are welcome here anytime.” Aqua had looked at Braig intently when the injuries were brought up and she had that determined I’m going to kill a person look on her face again. He wonders what she thinks caused it but determinedly stares straight ahead. She smiles at Ansem and bids a farewell to them before pausing at Braig.

“I’ll visit with everyone once we're all together again. Thanks for your help Braig.” He shrugs and she laughs at that as if he told some great joke and then she’s sprinting off. Turning back to Master Ansem he shrugs again because he’s pretty sure he wore out all his allotted talking for the day. Which is fine because it gets him out of whatever this conversation would have been. Ansem puts a hand on his shoulder and sighs.

“Next time you need to run off, leave a note, save this old man a heart attack. You may be a guard but you are injured and we still have not apprehended the culprit.” Ansem stares at him particularly longer after that comment but then continues when Braig merely shrugs again. “It is best to err on the side of caution until you can properly arm yourself again at least. Even wanted to check your depth perception first but I think practicing in the training rooms would not be harmful as long as someone assists for the time being.” Braig is relieved at that. He could work with that and honestly his depth perception hadn’t needed any getting used to all things considered in his situation. In truth it probably would have been more jarring to have two eyes again after so long. He grinned at Dilan and Aeleus who were both trying to look exasperated by his excitement to get to shoot at things again. They probably realized they had been volunteered to monitor these training sessions after all.

[tingleparker]

When in Hawaii

Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Request: No one asked for this but Tom’s Instagram Hawaii pics are just too tempting.

•Warnings: Fluff, bad writing (definitely not my best), swearing?.

•Summary: When in Hawaii, You got to do something new. Sport? Not always your forte but you didn’t realize you are so awful at golf until you meet a handsome, trust fund golfer.

•Word count- 2.7k (how did I manage to write so much scrap)

When in Hawaii you got to try something new. In this beautiful place like this, you need to just get away from reality; take the world in for once in your life. Your family had planned this holiday for weeks now, and finally, all of you are here. Just like the pictures you see on Instagram feeds, the island is as beautiful as it is captured on our phone screens. While dragging all our luggage to the hotel, other families and groups of friends pass you by; but a certain group catches your eye. You don't remember them on the same plane but you do remember seeing a fancy jet at the airport surely that wasn't theirs right? You shrug it off, you didn't even know them anyways; so who are you to judge. You caught the eyes of the prettiest of hazel, the sun’s light shining down on the colour bringing out a little shine to it. Your lips twitch into a smile, as you see the rest of the handsome man that has now caught your attention. His eyebrow quirks up before returning the smile towards you and turning around to his family, catching up with them. You do the same, having to lightly jog to return to the group. A smile remained on your face throughout the rest of the day; which wasn't long as straight after dinner, you pass out on the hotel bed; exhausted by jet-lag and the journey here.

It is like waking up in paradise; the sunshine, the view, the atmosphere. Though you never liked waking up, you got up seeing a text from your younger siblings about the family already at breakfast. You sigh, you seriously thought you were early for once but anyways you begrudgingly cleaned yourself up before exiting your room and heading down for breakfast.

“So we were wondering if we could go?” You hear your younger brother Liam ask, as you get closer to your family.

“Go where?” You ask whilst pulling out a chair joining them, grabbing a plate instantly and getting what you wanted to eat.

“Golfing!” Your youngest sibling Malia, exclaims.

“You have permission to go but Y/n has to go with you two.” Your mother stated causing the pair of teenagers to groan.

“Out of everything you guys choose golf?” You ask after swallowing your mouthful, curious about why they chose what seems to be a boring sport in your opinion.

“You don't even play sport, maybe you should start. Golfs easy enough for you...I think” Liam sasses, causing you to shoot him a glare; your dad sternly calling out his name.

“Maybe I shouldn't go, which means you can't either.” you clap back, poking your tongue out at your brother as he huffs; crossing his arms angrily.

“Please Y/n… I really wanna go play and you gotta step out of your comfort zone. Try something new!” Malia convinces, grasping at your arm and putting on the best puppy eyes she can.

You sigh, you couldn't resist her damn eyes. The younger pair let out a big cheer, high-fiving each other knowing they had won.  

“Alright, you two little shits-”

“Language.” Your mum scolded, as you give a little sorry for an apology.

“As I was saying, my two dear siblings; you better be ready before twelve or else I'm leaving your asses.”

“Y/n!” You dad now piping up as you once again apologize but stood up from your chair, ready to head back into your room to have some alone time before having to go out.

“Oh! Before you go, just remember we’re all having lunch at the small restaurant near the golfing range at two-thirty” Your dad informs, you nod putting the information in the back of your head before heading up to your room.

~

After getting ready for golf, you head out of your room at exactly twelve and you turn the corner to see both Liam and Malia standing at the elevator all dressed and ready to go. You roll your eyes at their antics, all of you hopping into the; heading out to the golf course.

The three of you arrive, renting out some clubs and golf balls before heading out to the holes. You’ll admit that when you see others playing golf, it never piqued your interest; actually, you think you've never actually played before after recalling some past memories.  Your two younger siblings are smiling ear to ear as we get to hole number one, Malia setting up her shot first. You look around noticing a group of boys on the next hole, you decide staring is rude so you look around the scenery; getting into your own bubble.

“Y/n! Your turn.” Malia shouts, snapping you out of it and gripping the golf club that Liam hands to you.

“If you don't remember, Golf is where you hit the ball into that hole over there. Easy.” Liam instructs but obviously being sarcastic as always.

“Yeah, I got it. Should be easy right?” You say mostly to yourself, you don't even know why you were stressing; it is literally just golf.

“It’s easy, you got this Y/n!” Malia encourages with a bright smile.

You line up your shot, making sure that you'll hit the ball at the right angle to get it somewhat near the hole. Taking a deep breath you swung the club back before swinging it back forward hitting the ball. What you didn't realize was maybe you got your angles wrong, as the ball flew through the air landing right on the head of one of the boys ahead of you. You gasp loudly as Liam and Malia burst into laughter, you instantly start moving to the boy you hit; him now on the ground clutching his head as you see another person probably calling for staff. As you arrive at the group you realize it's the same family from the airport. Your mind could only focus on the fact that you have just hit the most the most attractive man you've ever seen, and you're not even exaggerating.

“I am so sorry!” You apologize, making all their heads turn towards you, but you only look at the injured man as he stood up right in front of you.

“Don't come near me ever again! My dad can sue you for this, not like we need any more money from people like you.” He basically hisses out, fire in his eyes; and if looks could kill, you’d definitely be six feet under in a second.

“People like me? You mean people who aren't spoiled brats?” You fire back, the words just coming out without a thought; not caring about the consequences.

“You want to say that again? Y-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Alright, let's not get violent now. How about we get you to the first aid bay inside Tom.” One of the other men steps in the middle before reaching out to help the injured ‘Tom?’.

“Don't touch me! I can walk myself, it's not like she hit me in the leg.” Tom pushes the blue-eyed boy away but the other two boys swooped in helping him walk.

“But she did hit you in the head, so you could have a concussion dumb-ass.” The curly, red-haired one spoke up as they aid him to walk towards the building.

Your phone pings with a notification from your siblings, saying that they'll continue through all the holes and meet up with you after. You quickly respond to them, hoping they won't misbehave, and you knew you would meet up with them soon. You look up again to see their figures getting smaller in the distance, without realizing the one who stepped in is still next to you.

“I’m sorry ‘bout him. He’s -” He begins to speak but you cut him off.

“Spoiled?”

“Yeah, but I bet he doesn't mean whatever dumb shit comes out of his mouth.” He defends after laughing at your response.

“Yeah, I bet” You sarcastically say, rolling your eyes.

“Seriously, C’mon we’ll go see him in the bay” Blue eyes says before starting to walk in the direction of the building.

“Are you kidding? Like he… I would want to see him again!” You say, a tad loudly for the man to hear; causing him to stop and turn around to face you.

“Well, I think you and him deserve some apologizes,” He says before turning around again, continuing on his journey.

You close your eyes, asking yourself; were you really going to face him again? You called this guy hot in your mind before hitting him with a golf ball and then going off at each other. You sigh, opening your eyes; seeing the man was quite far now before running to catch up to him.

“Glad you could join…”

“Y/n”

“Harrison, that div’s best friend.”

~

As you got to the first aid room, you see the two other boys who helped out heading out of the room.

“We gotta check up on dad, catch up later Haz.” One of them says before the two walk away, obviously to their father.

You are starting to second guess things, he obviously wouldn't want to see you after what you did; so why were you here? Harrison then goes to open the door but before he could push it open, your hand shot out to stop him.

“A-are you sure I should be here?” You ask feeling doubt and like you shouldn't actually go in.

“Seriously Y/n? We’re both going in. Don’t worry about him.” Harrison reassures before opening the door fully this time.

You were behind Harrison, Tom not being able to see you yet as Harrison greets the injured man. Tom is sat on the bed in the bay, the aid had gone off somewhere; so it was just him in the room.

“Oh thank lord you're here Haz. Did you tell that girl to get lost? Seriously as pretty as she was, she hit me in the head.” You hear the trust fund kids voice, wanting to run away and crawl into a hole but at the same time confront him.

He called you pretty but at the same time can't let go of his dick of a personality for one second.

“Not exactly…” Harrison draws out before stepping to the side, showing your figure behind him.

Tom sends a glare to Haz before turning to you, looking you up and down in judgment. You want to cower away from his sight but you needed to stand your ground, you couldn't let this rich, trust fund and handsome man beat you.

“Sorry?” you apologize but it came out more like a question, earning a nudge from Harrison who shot you a glare as well as Tom.

“Seriously? That's all?” Tom questions.

“Well, what do you want me to say? I’ve already apologized so what do you expect?” You ask, words just flowing out from your mind.

“Alright, I’m sorry. For being a div, how ‘bout we talk? You can sit if you'd like” Tom surprisingly nicely suggests.

You give him a weird glance but wouldn't refuse his suggestion, so you went to sit next to him on the bed; space between you two is still substantial.

It started off with awkward small talk before it just clicked. The two of you actually had common interests, sharing jokes that brought tears to your eyes. The two of you were in your own world and didn't realize Haz had walked out the room minutes ago. Harrison walking out the room proud to be the best wing-man for his best mate and wanting a ‘thank you’ from him later

“You know you're actually pretty funny for someone who hit me on the head.” Tom jokes.

“C’mon that was a low blow. Does it still hurt?” You ask, unconsciously moving closer to inspect the bump on his head.

“A bit, it's not bad though,” Tom says as your fingers reach out to slowly graze the injury you had caused.

You hadn't realized how close your faces were until your eyes flicker down to see that there was barely centimeters between the two of you. You feel Toms' hand fall to your hip as your hands slid down to cup his face. The two of you leaning a tad closer, lips brushing against each other. Just as you were about to close the gap, your phone notifications blare through the room causing the two of you to jump apart. You quickly grab out your phone, to see Liam spamming you with messages.

‘Where are you?’

‘We gotta meet for lunch remember?’

‘Or are you too busy getting a restraining order from that dude you hit?’

Your eyes widen as you forgot about the family lunch you had at two-thirty, looking at the time it so happened to be two-twenty.

“Shit!” You say out loud to yourself as you shoot to stand up from your spot.

“What's wrong?” Tom asks, looking at your frantic state.

“I forgot I had something and I really need to go if I don't want to be late.” You inform him, almost taking off.

“How about I give you my number? We could meet up sometime again?” Tom asks almost calmly but on the inside, he was freaking the fuck out; hoping to see you again.

“Yeah, sure” You respond; giving him your phone, obviously you wouldn't turn him down.

After Tom gives your phone back you quickly thank him and without thinking lean in for a kiss on his cheek, before basically darting out of the room with an ‘I’ll text you later!’.

Tom's lips tug into a smile, thinking about how this situation has turned before plopping his head on the weirdly comfortable pillow of the bed.

~

After rushing out of the room, you run to the reception desk; wanting to ask to place an announcement for your siblings but you see them standing at the side leaning against the desk. You let out a breath of relief, walking over to them and ushering them out; not wanting to be late for the family lunch, know mum would kill you.

“So how’d it go with the guy you hit?” Liam teases, obviously not knowing that you had made up.

“Actually good, thank you very much.” You respond as the three of you sped walk to the nearby restaurant.

“Ooo Y/n has a crush on the guy she hit in the head.” Malia joins in with the teasing, a skip in her step now.

“Y/n must've given him a concussion if he has any interest in her.” Liam snarks like he always does, earning a hit on the back of the head by you.

“Shut up and walk faster.”

~

The three of you make it in just in time, you spot your parents already sat at a table and you join them. Just as you were browsing the menu, you hear a loud chatter of people. Glancing up you see the Hollands and Haz, your eyes instantly finding Tom. With the feeling of someone watching him, Tom turns to see Y/n looking straight at him. With a wink of his eye, making a blush crawl up your cheeks the two of you turn away. The waiter comes, making you stutter out an order; making your family look at you weirdly. Your phone lights up with a message from a contact under “Div you hit in the head’

‘Fancy seeing you here love.’ The message read, you smile at it before looking up to see Tom sat at a table near yours; eyes already on you.

“So how was golfing?” Your dad asks, making the younger pair basically jump in their seats.

“It was so fun! I loved it” Malia exclaims in excitement, recalling the events of today in her mind.

“Yeah! It was fun seeing Y/n hit her crush in the head.” Liam exposes as you kick him under the table for the comment.

You didn't say anything back, but you glance up to see the prettiest of eyes and a purple bruise that you caused. Whoops. But you wouldn't change anything that happened today because...

When in Hawaii you gotta try something new and maybe you'll hit something you like.

[anonthenullifier]

This Wasn’t What I Had in Mind

Title: This Wasn’t What I Had in Mind

Gift for: Carlye (@scarletphantom1704)

Rating: T

Word count: 4.4k

Summary: During a rendezvous with Vision, a seemingly innocent excursion forces Wanda to remember all she has lost.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15996662

Prompt: I would love to receive a piece of fanart/or a fanfic of Vision comforting Wanda after a flashback, triggered by an ordinary object, and a panic attack in public. (MCU)

To Carlye: This was a fun but challenging prompt. I hope the story meets what you were wanting with the prompt :)

To Anya (@atendrilofscarlet), my beta, you are amazing! Thank you for reading so many versions of this in such a short time period and answering all my questions :D.

To everyone else, I hope you enjoy this too!

Made for the Scarlet Vision Exchange 2018!

It is freezing.  Wanda suspects the only reason the steam hovering in front of her face isn’t crystallizing is because of how rapidly she is sucking in the frigid air and then pushing it back out. It’s so cold her wool-gloved hands are buried deep in her coat pockets instead of seizing the opportunity of the moment and holding Vision’s hand. In lieu of intertwined fingers, their bodies are huddled, shoulders and hips practically glued together as they stare forward.

“Did you know,” he glances down at her, movements minimized to retain heat, “until today the coldest day in Sopot’s history was -2.5 degrees Celsius?”

She’s fairly certain the winters at the compound were comparable to now, possibly worse, yet the rush of air coming from the sea seems to banish all potential warmth, leaving just a gray, lifeless wraith of an afternoon. “Don’t tempt me with such balmy facts, Vizh.” What she assumes is a breathy laugh, though could easily be a shudder at the bite in the air, mingles with the crashing of waves against the embankment of ice along the shoreline. “You know, this really wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“I did offer an alternative of staying in the hotel next to the radiator.”

Wanda cracks a smile at the specificity of the statement, his mind so vast and yet during their clandestine meetups it collapses to only reach out as far as what they are doing in the present, disregarding any subtext of a time further than now. “We’ll go back soon.”

A nod and a bump of his shoulder confirms his desire to do just that, “I believe that is for the best,” his voice shifts to being overly concerned, a tone that has been increasingly common for the past several weeks, “I do not believe it is in your best interest to develop pneumonia again.”

Wanda shrugs. In her opinion, the downsides of being sick were far outweighed by other factors. “Got you to stay with me for longer.”

“Yes,” a tiny smile sparks a small, welcomed ember in her chest, “though it also almost led to my discovery.”

“You act like Nat hasn’t pieced us together yet.” Sneaking around is never what either of them wanted as a basis of their relationship, which is why it was almost a godsend when Nat confronted her months ago. Anger mixed with disbelief and betrayal, but in the end was a hope, a guarded, questionable hope, one that allowed for an understanding to be reached that so long as Wanda was safe and checked in when required, she could be happy. Despite this, Vision still insists on never crossing paths with the other rogue Avengers. Likely worried that the pressure of lying about seeing four people would be too much. Giving vague and unhelpful answers to Ross about his time “searching” for her has already taken its toll on his demeanor, she’d never ask him to add to that responsibility. Wanda veers their thoughts from that particular topic, determined to make the most of their rendezvous. “When I started pestering Steve about a beach getaway, this wasn’t really what I meant.”

Vision glances down at her, then to the desolate stretches of sand, before finally settling his gaze on the angry, icy sea. “Though not ideal, tactically this is smarter. During the summer there are upwards of 2 million people in this city-“

“I know, Vision.” It’s been a hard set rule of Steve’s that they avoid peak tourism seasons when determining the locations each time they move around. Arguably large crowds could provide more cover, a greater chance to blend in, but it also means more eyes and cameras that might happen to upload one of their faces to Twitter or Instagram. That doesn’t mean Steve had to send her here in November--even September or early October would have less tourists and have the added bonus of potentially being warm enough for a proper beach vacation. “I just had it all planned out and it didn’t involve freezing our asses off.”

“Well,” he removes his hand from the safety of his pocket and wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to nestle in the blissfully warm crook of his arm, “If it were warmer, what did you envision us doing?”

The images of such a dream flash through her mind, all nondescript as to the beach itself, given she had no idea where Steve would send her, but there are commonalities in all beach resort areas. “We would have woken up early,” a disbelieving wrinkle mars his forehead and she nudges him with her shoulder, “earlier than usual, at least. Maybe we’d grab breakfast and buy some snacks and then head to the beach to claim our spot before all the tourists descend.”

“So far we have been successful with your plan.”

Wanda regrets that they are outside because it means she can’t watch his irises spin in delight at the dryness of his sass, so she’ll have to settle for the slight, prideful smirk on his pale face. “Well if you want to continue with the plan, then slap on a speedo and dive right in.” The incredulous silence stretches out for several seconds. She can practically hear the gears in his eyes swishing while he figures out a response, his distaste of immodest clothing in public (for himself, personally. He believes everyone else can decide for themselves what is and is not comfortable to wear in public) is a topic they have discussed at length when she tried to get him to wear shorts over the summer. Wanda happily fills the continued silence, pushing the idea just a touch more by offering him the argument she had already crafted for his inevitable hesitation in the swimwear. “It’s what all the locals wear, you wouldn’t want to stand out.”

“I-” another long pause precedes the cautious, diplomatic cadence of his diverting words, “well it is really, um, an incredibly unfortunate happenstance for us to be here when it is so cold then.” Vision doesn’t allow room for her to comment further or persist in ribbing him on the matter. “What else, did you have in mind?”

“Well, after we had swam and enjoyed the sun,” the latter not even attempting to peek through the clouds for emphasis, instead remaining hidden in its own winter gloom, “we would walk the pier until we got to the end of it where there’s just the sea in front of us and the sun on the waves.”

“Sounds lovely.”

Wanda smiles at the warmth in his voice. “We’d watch the water, talk some more, I’d definitely kiss you-”

“That part of the plan can certainly still happen.”

“And then,” Wanda pulls her hand from its safehaven in her coat so she can wrap her arm around his waist, relishing the tightening of his grip in return, “we’d grab ice cream and go back to the hotel for some alone time before you have to leave.”

She can sense the wistfulness of his mind soaking in the imaginary sun and it almost makes the air around them feel a few degrees warmer. “Perhaps we can salvage some of it.”

“Oh?”

An enthusiastic, mesmerizing grin matches the brightness of his eyes as Vision looks down at her, “I believe there was an ice cream stand open not too far from here and,” he steps away from her and places his leather-gloved hands on her upper arms, “if I can manage to figure out the radiator, we can adjust the temperature in the room to allow for us to pretend it is summer.”

Wanda’s cheeks ache, possibly from the icy wind assaulting her face, but a more probable explanation right now would be the broadness of her smile, “Sounds perfect.”

The ice cream stand is harder to find than Vision’s plan suggested, their search leading them in a meandering labyrinth of cobbled streets and alleys as they investigate every building that has the same pink and brown ice cream cone sculpture. Eventually, after what feels like twenty stops, they come across a lone ice cream vendor.

Wanda’s image of this moment is different from reality, her memory filled with hot summer days and smiling faces handing her ice cream that’s started to ooze down the ridges of the cone, whereas the man shivering behind the glass case is mutely unimpressed by Vision’s very friendly, “ Dzień dobry*.”

A harsh, “What do you want?” is the reply. Wanda laces her fingers through Vision’s, noting the tension in his muscles and preparing for the talk they’ll have later, at how, because of his accent, among other things, he can never pass himself off as a native speaker wherever they are at. She thinks it’s kind of cute, his belief that he could ever mask his proper English accent to fit in, but she also sympathizes given her own experiences of trying (and failing) to not be an “other” in public after moving to New York.

To help with his attempts to blend in, Vision has started eating with her, treating his choices in food like he does everything else -- with a laser focus and a desire to be equitable to all options. What this invariably means is that he is about to ask about every single flavor, combo, sauce, and cone. Given Wanda already knows what she wants (it’s what she gets every time), she responds before Vision gets a chance to read any flavors, “Stracciatella.” A heaping cone is passed over the counter, her tongue happily running through the creamy, chocolate speckled heaven while her eyes turn to take in the tiny, ill-insulated building as Vision mulls over his choices.

It’s a basic ice cream store. The requisite signs about toppings and pictures of beaming beach goers in speedos (something she’ll kindly direct Vision’s attention to while they eat) lining the walls. There’s a section of the far wall with postcards and fading pictures with autographs. One catches her eye, a recollection of those faces surfacing though she can’t quite place it until she notices a melody in the air. The music is different from the usual happy, bubblegum pop of these places. The song playing from a speaker behind the glass case curves her lips up, the fast paced, punk sound unmistakable. This was one of Pietro’s favorites and she hasn’t heard it in a long time. Wanda makes a mental note to have Vision listen to Hladno Pivo later, even if he’ll dislike it, most likely critiquing the harshness of the vocals and the clashing of the instruments. “And what is this one?” Vision’s voice draws her attention back to the counter where he’s pointing at another flavor and the man, knuckles white around the ice cream scoop, is doing his best to not be annoyed at all the questions.

“ Kasztan, it’s uh,” the man waves the scoop as he searches for the word, then he snaps the fingers of his other hand, turning to Wanda, a congenial almost hopeful uptick in his voice as he switches languages, “kesten, ja?”

A tingling in her chest blooms at the question. “It’s um,” Wanda nods her head, trying to close out the song so she can focus on translating the word. “It’s,” the tingle grows into a claw, wrapping its digits around her ribs as bursts of fiery light erupt from her mind. She turns towards Vision, hoping his curious and bright eyes will do what they always do best: calm her. “It’s um chest-,” yet the words fumble out as her breath begins to fail her, the talons of remembrance puncturing her lungs,”-nut”.

Vision’s Interesting fades away, the movements of the ice cream vendor slowing as he spoons out a cone, but Wanda finds she isn’t really there anymore. Instead she is ten again, lungs spasming into coughing fits as she sucks in the fresh air. Pietro is at her side, hand clutching her own, pulling her each time he coughs to get the last of the dust from his body. You would think, after a bombing and numerous rescue missions, that someone would be helping two children in the street, and yet there are terrifying screams coming from the stretchers being carried out of the building that garner all of the attention from the medics and the bystanders. “Dođi,” Pietro tugs her hand but her feet stay firmly planted to the ground, eyes refusing to leave the hole in the building where their home used to be. “Dođi, Wanda, otišli su.**”

Eventually she budges, head hanging low as they wander the city, no one noticing them until a woman stops them several streets over. Pietro handles the conversation, Wanda’s mind far too lost to comprehend what is being said, something about if they need help or if they are hungry. Whatever is said leads to an ice cream cone shoved in her hand, her fingers begrudgingly scrunching around the paper wrapper. Why she has ice cream is a mystery, it’s not a hot day, it’s not a happy day, it’s not even a filling food after days trapped under a bed. A hand waves in front of her eyes, focusing her energy on the beaming, filthy face of Pietro, a beige hued mound of ice cream hovering at her mouth, “To je kesten***”

A frantically quiet, “Wanda?” dissolves Pietro’s smiling face.

Vision waves a hand through the air, brow etched with concern until she nods, swallowing down the rising bile at the memory, refusing to give in to it now, “Yeah?”

“Would you like to eat outside?” It’s not what he actually wants to ask her, not what is coursing through his mind or painted all over his disguised face, but to maintain their cover, it’s the best he has.

“Um,” Wanda stares at the beige ice cream cone in his hand, attempts to nod, but gets distracted by the room closing in, inch by inch, a subtle, unnerving minimizing of the space around her. A numbness spreads through her hands, one that is different than the flow of her powers, and it follows the rapid increase in her heart rate. Deep breaths should work, at least Vision always made her do it in the early days of their friendship. A steady inhale, hold for three seconds, and then an exhale. Repeat as many times as needed. Eyes, she can hear his voice in the distance, as if through a wall, need to be trained on one item. So Wanda looks straight ahead, only to see the damned cone and the trickle of ice cream oozing over the paper wrapper.

Pietro always ate his ice cream fast enough to not let it melt, no matter if they were ten, fifteen, twenty, he always ate it joyfully and quickly. And it was always the same flavor, he refused to eat any ice cream that wasn’t chestnut, they even learned which parlors carried the flavor, on which days, and who they could convince to give them either a free cone or a discounted one. He should be holding that cone right now.

The trickle of despair dripping into her soul suddenly turns into a downpour and she can feel the bullets ripping through his body, her knees ache at the cuts from when she fell--lost, confused, and angry. Years had passed, literal years without Pietro, and she had coped, survived, learned how to move on, yet she needs him back. Desperately wants that constant, to feel his mind, hold his hand. Wanda’s body starts to shake. She closes her eyes, clamping out the image of the cone, breathing in deeply again and again, though it becomes more difficult, the absence of Pietro too much, her soul torn asunder day after day after day without him. She no longer even has the Avengers, doesn’t have the compound, can’t count on Vision to always float through her wall, or get the shit beat out of her at training to distract her. The world hates her, half her former teammates hate her, she’s a wanted fugitive with no prospect of salvation. Much like when she was ten, clutching Pietro’s hand, eating ice cream. Only he’s not here anymore.

Her chest burns, breaths shallow and labored as the world seems to dissolve, the past mixing with the present, taunting her with a blank and empty future, and she can’t determine if she’s ten, if she’s falling with Sokovia, if she’s sleeping in a shelter with Pietro’s arms around her, if she’s back at the compound listening to the soothing lull of an English accent, or if she’s in Poland on a freezing day eating ice cream with her undercover boyfriend.

Only Pietro ever fully understood her when she spoke of separating from reality like this, of getting lost in the sea of memory, where each wave crashing down brings only more confusion. Wanda is falling now, a weightlessness overtaking her, and she closes her eyes as she feels her home plummet from beneath her, heart shattered and body empty, accepting her fate to join Pietro, wherever he went.

There is a feeling of movement, not of free falling, but hovering, her eyes cracking open long enough to see the world morphing around her: walls dropping away, the wind picking up around her head, stirring her hair, her legs swinging freely. There is motion and there is sound, words muffled and muddled so that she isn’t sure if people are screaming for help in the hell of flames, demanding why they are being asked to leave their homes, taunting her on the streets, calling her a criminal and a witch, or even just asking if she is okay. Her senses function like a kaleidoscope, shifting and rotating so that each combination of stimuli produces bursts of distorted experience that masks what exactly is happening or where she is. Wanda closes her eyes tighter, time slipping through her grasp, her fingers grabbing at the strands of her life, instead scrunching into the fabric of whomever is holding her-- maybe it’s Pietro, guiding her to wherever he’s been; maybe it’s Vision saving her from falling with Ultron’s carcass; maybe it’s the guards securing her after another flare up of her newly gifted powers; maybe it could even be her mother, cradling her after a night terror.

There is a chiming and then the world stops moving.

“Wanda?” A voice reaches out to her, calm though fraying at the edges. “Wanda.” Lavender fills her nose and a sweltering heat cocoons her. “Wanda, it is all right.” The ground under her sinks and creaks. Wanda flexes her fingers, digging her nails into a stiff fabric and a fluffy foundation. “Wanda, I made you tea.”  

She opens her eyes a sliver, just enough to confirm she is on a bed, noting a blurry patch of crimson not too far away. A sound attempts to come from her mouth, but her throat is parched, unwilling to function more than a croaked, “Vizh?”

A hand runs through her hair, each stroke diminishing the thoughts, bringing her back to the present. “I am here, Wanda.” It’s enough to vanquish most of the confusion, solidifying which reality she is currently in, yet still her body sinks under the weight of Pietro’s continued absence. “Do you want to discuss it?”

They established a routine in the early months of being Avengers, back when she was still figuring out who he was and what she was after everything, back before she could kiss him whenever she wanted, before she could slip into his mind at any given time, before he held her in a way that wasn’t just for comfort. It’s been a long time since they’ve used it, but clearly he remembers. Step 1: Neutralize the chance of public detection, Step 2: Utilize the calming principles of lavender and chamomile tea. Step 3: Offer to talk. “I-” Wanda tries to sit up but he lightly presses her down, crawling into the bed next to her so that their eyes are level. The gears are back, whirling in a frenzy that clashes with his overall calm demeanor. There’s so much to say, so much of it has already been said, countless times and honestly, she has no desire to talk about all of it again, can’t help but feel embarrassed at still having panic attacks like this. “Kesten was Pietro’s favorite flavor.”

“I see.” All of his empathy and apologies (ones for not being able to stop it sooner, for not being able to save Pietro, for not being able to take this pain away, for them being forced to moonlight as a couple) are wrapped into the two syllables along with a firm, nonjudgmental understanding that she doesn’t want to talk. “Would you like to try muscle relaxation?”

Wanda wants to know who all saw her attack, witnessed her crumbling facade, whether it attracted too much attention, if someone caught a picture and uploaded it somewhere. But he’s already moved them to Step 4: Regain control. Wanda decides to play along knowing there should be plenty of time to interrogate him as to what danger she placed them in. “That sounds nice.”

Unlike all the other times he did this at the compound, Vision wraps his arm around her, placing a chaste, loving kiss to her forehead before starting the process. “We will start with your hands.”

The first time he had her do this, she felt ridiculous, challenged him on it and refused for a time. Eventually he convinced her which soon transformed into her hoping he’d recommend this technique, as it allowed her more time with him and a chance to purposely place all of her attention on his voice. “Ready.”

“Focus on your fingers,” she wiggles them, brushing his stomach in the process, “I am glad you found them.” The smile is easily detected in his tone, but fades quickly as he instructs her. “Now focus on each hand individually, first squeeze your fingers into a fist, noting the tension," Wanda nestles into his chest, following his instructions, bending the fingers of her right hand into a shaking fist.  "Good, now ease your fingers open until there is no tension left.”

Her mind and powers calm as she begins to loosen the control of her grief, her fingers relaxing and dropping down one-by-one in relief. “Right hand good to go.”

A hand brushes through her hair, “Good job. Now your left hand.” She repeats the process, clenching and then unclenching her fingers, exhaling happily once both hands are resting against Vision’s body. The next step is her arms, so she starts to flex her right arm but pauses when Vision hugs her closer, drawing her forehead tenderly to his lips again. Such contact was never included in their routine, yet he seems indifferent to the change, segueing calmingly to the next part, “Well done, Wanda. Now-”

She stares into his eyes, awed at the twists and turns of life that brought this man to her and how he can so easily transition her from an all encompassing loss to the feeling of butterflies in her stomach.  “You’re changing the protocol.”

“I, um,” Vision frowns, not an upset or angry gesture, but a contemplative and shy move as he runs his fingers along her back, “thought such a gesture might aid in your relaxation. Perhaps a rewards based system of motivation.”

The timidness that fueled each touch and word in the early days of their not-quite-friendship-but-not-quite-lovers relationship has fallen away over the last year, giving way to this new, still cautious, but more confident side of Vision. Wanda grins, “I think it sounds helpful. Want to keep going?”

The half-arc of his lips is radiant, “Yes, now your arms.” He scoots away from her, leaving enough room for her to follow his instructions, “tighten your right bicep, drawing your forearm up.”

“Welcome to the gun show, Vizh.” It’s a joke he didn’t comprehend the first five times she used it, but now he simply smiles, head shaking as he watches her flex her muscles before releasing her arm to lay back down along her side. Then she repeats the action, and the joke, on the other side before Vision moves back, their chests touching as he lays another kiss on her forehead. “Next?”

They move through her body, his even commands guiding her to raise her shoulders up to touch her ears and then lower them into a peaceful state. He kisses her forehead with another “Good job.” Wanda sucks in a deep breath, creating tension in her lungs, only this time it’s under her control and Vision’s supervision, not a sense of gasping but a sense of order, her breath releasing against his face, causing him to blink rapidly before bestowing her reward. Her stomach collapses in and then expands out in time with his voice, only she pushes it farther than she's supposed to, bumping him with her body which leads to a quiet laugh as he kisses her again. “Lastly, Wanda," Vision holds her close, their foreheads touching as he talks, "squeeze your left thigh and curl your toes, then release.” Wanda sighs as she finishes the exercise, body sinking into the mattress, not because of grief anymore, but a sense serenity and contentment.  

Several minutes pass in silence, only the slight buzz from the radiator and the even rhythm of Vision’s breathing filling the air around her with a pleasing warmth. Having allowed her time to bask in her relaxation, Vision tiptoes into his next comment, “I am sorry.”

“For what?”

He shifts slightly, the springs complaining until he settles, lips pursed and eyes twisting in anxiety, “That the day did not match your expectations.”

None of her beachy daydreams included this moment, this is undoubtedly true, yet Wanda finds herself content to be wrapped in his arms, cuddled close on a freezing day. “It’s not your fault, Vizh. The day wasn’t horrible.”

“Not horrible is a poor benchmark for a day when we get so few together.”

Wanda grins at him, freeing her left arm from his embrace enough to draw her hand down his face, watch as his eyes flutter shut at the touch. For all that she has lost, all that she will lose in the future, she’s overjoyed that amongst all of that she has found him. “Well, there’s still time for you to fix the radiator and slap on a speedo.” He kisses her, stifling her laugh and distracting her from the world and all its cruelties for just a bit longer.

*Dzień dobry:  Good afternoon ** Dođi. Dođi, Wanda, otišli su: Come on. Come on Wanda, they’re gone. *** To je kesten: it’s chestnut!

[ezilyamuzed]

There’s no place like home- Part Two

Summary: The reader has had a unique gift all her life. While considering it a curse, she discovers the identity of her real father after her mothers passing. Journeying towards her new life, she finds herself thrown within the Winchester’s world. Is it her destiny?

Setting: End of season 13. This takes place between  13.17 and 13.18.

Warnings: language. POV may switch after certain sections. 

A/N: I am new at posting these online, so please be patient. Do not mistake my lack of experience for ignorance if I do not quite get it yet. Sorry for any grammatical errors. This is part two of a series that has been in the works while watching the episodes unfold. Thanks for taking the time to read! Comments are always appreciated.

Series Masterlist

Sam couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt. What you said about them ruining the world wasn’t exactly wrong. They didn’t mean to do any of those things, but somehow they were always involved in a major way when it came to the impending doom of humanity. Saving people was what their ultimate goal was, but in the process they have ended up hurting so many others. So many that they cared about that they promised to protect. What exactly would Bobby have said when she yelled at them? What would he have done? Sam knew one thing for sure, Y/N had to be protected. Not only was she Bobby’s daughter, but a girl that had a pretty normal life while trying to hunt monsters a concept impossible to him to even fathom. The idea that any harm could happen to her made Sam feel like his insides were twisted. He had to make this better for her. He had to watch over her. That’s what a brother would do, and as far as he was concerned she was family now.

Dean was already passed out when Sam got back. He had been able to get a couple hours of sleep in before Dean had texted and said they needed to meet. He sat in the raggedy old chair in the hotel and opened up his lap top, curious as to what Y/N was and who she was. What did she say she could do? Read auras? Did that mean she was clairvoyant? Probably not, didn’t really fit her description of her capabilities. Sam dug through the web trying to see if anything popped up that made sense. Synesthesia came up came up after a couple of pages, the crossing of the senses. Maybe this was it or at least a scientific reasoning behind her abilities? Sam could not help but to think he was wasting his time now as the afternoon approached. A google search was not going to answer all of his questions. Perhaps she was a new type of supernatural being. Cas would probably know, but who knows where he was right now. Whatever she is, Sam couldn’t help but to think how useful having powers like that would be on the road during a normal hunt. Right now he wished that was all he had in front of him. A normal monster or a quick salt and burn. He could already feel the stress rising in him as he thought about the impending doom that seemed inevitable. Michael and his angels destroying the world.

Dean started shifting in the bed like he was going to wake up. Sam shut the lap top and stared at his brother still snoring. Dean was such an ass to her before. How could she even consider them being around? Not only was Dean an ass, but she clearly had hatred for the name Winchester. Sam wanted to prove her wrong. They weren’t the fuckups that she had heard of, they were just normal good guys trying to help the world.  Well as normal as they could be in this life. It wasn’t their fault that they were born to lead this life. Higher powers pushed them towards it.  He picked up the keys to the impala and set forth to Y/N’s hotel. He had to try again with her.

After figuring out which room she was in by showing one of the fake badges to the front desk Sam walked up to her door. Definitely not the kind of hotel he was used to. You could actually smell something sweet in the air, not the musty smell of aged furniture. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“No housekeeping!” yelled Y/N on the other side.

“Y/N, its Sam.” He yelled back through the door while shifting his weight in unease.

Y/N opened the door looking like death had run her over. Hair in a tangled bun of a mess on top of her head and make up smeared around her eyes. Sam tried not to glance down and notice the too short of shorts on her with an oversized Journey tee.

“Hey Y/N, I’m sorry if I woke you up. I figured you might want a ride to your car and maybe some lunch?” Sam said apprehensively.

She rubbed her eyes, only spreading the make up more. She looked like a little raccoon now. A short little raccoon that was probably capable of taking him down within seconds.

“Yeah, sounds okay. Give me 10 minutes okay? I’ll meet you in the lobby” she said with her eyes half shut and a yawn escaping her mouth.

____________________________________________________________

Ugh, who the hell is it knocking on your door this early?

“No housekeeping!” you yelled while still holding the pillow tight to your face. You glanced at the clock on the little nightstand next to you realizing it was well after noon as you heard the voice from behind the door yell that it was Sam. The giant of a man with puppy dog eyes was knocking on your door after you had basically told him that you hated him and his brother. What could he possibly want? You got up from the bed, not caring what you looked like. He was no one that you cared at all to impress, even with him trying to ask nice last night.

As you opened up the door he immediately spoke up as if he was holding in a speech he had prepared. You needed to get your car and the rumble in your stomach told you that you should probably eat something sooner rather than later. He was trying and you could see it. It would take a lot to change your mind about him and his brother, but you appreciated his effort. You reluctantly agreed while remembering that you did care at least a little bit about others seeing you in this condition, so you told him to give you a few minutes.

You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror as you turned on the hot water. God you looked like hell. No not hell, you looked like you just wrestled with a werewolf and won. A grin appeared on your face remembering how easy it was to drop him down. The grin grew a bit larger when you remembered the look of shock on Dean’s face like he couldn’t believe someone like you just took down the Big Bad wolf. There was an appreciation in proving that you weren’t just some “little girl” which he had called you during your initial encounter.

The dream you had about Charlie started to rise into your thoughts. She was right about one thing, they were handsome. But you could not see how they were like brothers to someone who was so warm and fun to be with. You wondered if you should mention her in front of them, but decided that since you haven’t seen her in years it was probably a bad idea. What if they no longer spoke? Even worse, in this business what if something happened to her because of them?

You threw on a white t-shirt, a clean pair of jean shorts and your comfy sneakers. You were able to get rid of the raccoon eyes, but there was no need to apply any other make-up. Again, you didn’t care to impress your driving companion on the way to your car and food. You brushed your teeth and hair fast while you looked around for your things. Wallet, keys, and knife. Check.

It had only taken 15 minutes since Sam walked away from your door to get ready. He could live with the extra 5 minutes you took. You see him standing in the lobby looking very out of place amongst the business men checking in and the dolled up housewives gripping their purses and shopping bags. He wore very beat up jeans, boots, and yet another flannel shirt. Did this man not realize it was almost summer?

He smiled at you as you walked past him, immediately heading for the old impala. This was the car that was parked next to yours when you met them. It had seemed like it was in pristine condition when you had rushed past it yesterday to get into your car. After last night’s adventures and the brightness of the sun today you start to notice that this car has been through a lot. Tiny little marks along the fenders suggest that the drive on the dirt road last night had definitely not been the first. As Sam opened the door for you, you slid in and noticed how worn the steering wheel was, like someone had held on to it for life on more than one occasion. The seats worn down suggesting that hours have been spent by people sitting in them. A slight smell of men’s musk filled the air as you shut the door. These boys spend way too much time in here. A slight smile came across your lips when you realized that one could say that same about your baby, you spent way too much time with her as well.

Sam had already gotten in as you looked over to him and said, “Nice car here”. He gave you a smile back as he turned the ignition over bringing her to life. The purr of your baby always provided a soothing release for you when you were stressed, and this one was no different.

“Thanks, it was my dad’s” he said while making sure there was no one in his way as he backed out of the spot.

“Was?” you asked trying to be civil and have a simple conversation to get to know this man more. It’s not like they gave any insight to their lives, and while you knew about them you never heard their full story.

While not letting his eyes leave the road he simply replied, “Yeah. He died about 12 years ago now.”

You couldn’t help but to feel bad that you had brought it up. Even with all of your training you have had in being empathetic when emotional situations were brought up, you did not want to use any of them right now. He was not your client. He was just a man giving you a ride to your car was the agreement you had come to within your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “So in like 5 blocks you are going to make a right.”

He nodded in agreement with your directions. He might have actually been aware of where he was going already. Dean probably told him. He reached over to the radio and turned on whatever tape was inside. A smirk ran across your face as you started to recognize the tune. “Of Wolf and Man by Metallica,” you found yourself stating towards Sam.

His eyebrows raised and glanced over at you with a smirk on his face. “I don’t know really anyone else but my brother that could name that song so fast.”

“Well some people I guess don’t appreciate the greats in the world,” you said while looking up ahead. “I’m parked right over there”.

Sam looked into the direction that you were pointing and let out quick laugh. “That is your car?”

You looked at him confused and quickly answered “yes” with a hint of a question mark at the end. Was he being a typical guy and thinking that a girl didn’t deserve to be driving a “man’s car” or was he really interested?

“When we saw it yesterday at the coffee shop Dean stared it down. I think secretly he liked it but of course this will always be baby,” he said while patting the dashboard.

Baby? Dean calls his car baby too? You started to feel yourself becoming disgusted by all the things you were finding to have in common with this man, but also intrigued at what else you might share with him. Maybe if he wasn’t such an ass you might have considered getting to know him.  

He pulls right up next to your baby and your heart sank as you saw it. FUCK! The back window laid in shards all over the ground. You jumped out before Sam had even fully stopped the car. This was not happening. Who hurt your baby? Your fists start to tighten up next to you as you hear Sam on the phone with whom you presumed to be Jody telling her what had happened.

Only 30 minutes later you found yourself saying goodbye to your baby as she was being pulled by a tow truck to the local repair shop. Jody was down to you within minutes going over every detail in your car to make sure that nothing had been taken. She had reassured you that she would figure it out, but you knew that there was probably a slim chance in actually catching the assholes responsible.

Sam sat down next to you on the curb as the tow truck pulled away. You tried to cover up the tears that started growing in your eyes. Don’t let him see how much this hurt you. How everything just kept going from bad to worse. He moved his arm to embrace you, but stopped himself short as you started to tense up at his presence.

“Take me back Sam,” You said softy while looking away in the distance.

Sam looked at you and nodded even though you couldn’t see him. The both of you walked slowly back to the impala in silence and rode back to your hotel.

___________________________________________________________

Dean heard the loud noise of a car door shut outside of his room as he started to wake up. What a night. Bobby’s offspring was just like him; tough and stubborn. He heard a loud knock on his motel room door, he started to reach under his pillow to pull out his hidden gun when he heard the familiar motherly tone yelled at him. “Dean open up.”

He got up and opened the door, stepping to the side for Jody to walk in all dressed in her sheriff’s uniform. “We need to talk,” she said as she sat herself down at the tiny kitchen table. Dean sat down next to her in the other chair at the table as if she was commanding him to do so. She took a deep sigh before looking directly at him and saying, “We’ve got trouble”.

“What kind of trou…” Dean started to ask as Jody stopped him by holding up her phone to show a picture of an old Camaro with a broken out window. “Nice car. Sucks to be the owner. Who’s is its?” he said while wiping the sleep put of his eyes.

“Y/N’s” was all she said while still holding up the phone.

Y/N’s car? The girl had some taste. He definitely didn’t expect that. He thought she was probably an ecofriendly driving judgmental bitch with an attitude.

“Why does her broken out window mean there’s trouble. Maybe she just pissed off someone else with her bitchy attitude?” Dean said while getting up from his seat to grab a water bottle from his bag.

“Because she killed a werewolf last night. Because I watched the footage. Dean, it was another wolf that did this,” she said with concern in her voice.

Ffffuuuccckk. Of course it was. He hadn’t of thought about the fact that werewolves rarely travel alone last night as he had helped her dispose of the body. He took a large gulp from the water bottle. “Claire and Alex are already on it,” said Jody from behind him.

“So you want us to help them gank this monster?” Dean said while turning back to her.

“No I want you and Sam to watch out for Y/N. She doesn’t know yet, and honestly with all the crap that she has walked into in the last couple of days, I don’t really want her to.”

“So babysitting duty?” Dean said with a scowl on his face.

Jody gave him a smirk while she crossed her arms. “Think of it as a chance to actually get to know one another. Your latest impressions didn’t exactly woo her into thinking that you are a good guy.” She got up to walk to him and placed her hand gently on his shoulder. “Prove to her that Bobby helped raise the decent man I know you to be. Show her all the goodness that I know you like to hide away from the world.”

Dean sighed and looked her in the eyes, “I’ll try. I can’t say that I will like it, but I will try”.

Jody had left soon after, letting Dean know that she or one of the girls will stay in contact about the wolf hunt. Dean was already showered and dressed when he heard the door unlocking with Sam following directly in with the swoosh of the door.

“So Y/N’s managed to piss off something else,” Dean said while tossing his dirty clothes in his bag. Sam’s eyes widen, questioning how Dean could possibly have known about her car. “Jody stopped by.”

Sam nodded and sat down on the bed while opening up his lap top. “Jody said the girls were on the case. We are on babysitting duty,” Dean said while grabbing a beer out of the little green and white cooler that was their traveling companion.

Sam looked up from his screen, “So what’s the plan?”

Dean paused and shrugged. He looked down at his beer. “This,” he said with a shrug while shaking his bottle.

______________________________________________________________

When Jody had watched the video footage from the bar, the feeling of dread was confirmed. Another werewolf had smashed out Y/N's window because of the scent she had left at the scene. Dean was there too, so he was probably in danger as well. He, of course, would run at the chance to take down a werewolf, but that is not what he should be doing right now. He should be trying to get to know Y/N, Bobby's daughter. She made the call that the boys wouldn't be involved in this hunt. Not this time. 

After visiting Dean at the hotel to implement her plan of making Dean and Sam spend time with Y/N, she went back home where Donna, Alex, and Claire were waiting. 

"We got a job to do," Jody said to the group of girls sitting around the kitchen table. 

"What kind of job?" Claire asked with excitement. It had been a couple of days of quiet around the area, and Jody knew she was getting restless.

"There was a werewolf attack last night over at the Irish pub," Jody started to reply, but Alex interrupted her.

"There wasn't any news at the hospital about an attack, just a drunk girl that was passed out in their ally."

Jody nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he was stopped before any damage was done to his victim."

"So if he was stopped, then what are we doing here then?" Claire said with a roll of her eyes.

Jody glanced back and forth between the three women in front of her and sighed audibly. "There's another one hot on their tail. They attacked their car that was left at the bar last night. It was it was probably just following the scent." Jody said reluctantly.

She knew that she should have had the conversation with the girls about Y/N, but she hadn't been ready. Every time she thought about the news the last couple of days has brought, emotions fled through her that she didn't want to face. No. It was that she couldn't face them. Anything that brought up the memory of Bobby made her feel completely helpless.  She knew that there was nothing that she could have done to save him aside from selling her soul to make a deal, but he would never have wanted that. Bobby Singer was a selfless man, who only cared about the safety of others. A trait that she had noticed about Y/N as well.

Jody knew she couldn't keep everything to herself anymore as she started to explain everything from the beginning. The girls all listened quietly while giving their full attention to the story of Bobby's daughter, her gifts, and her quick takedown of the beast. 

"So it's mate, she's a ticked off, eh?" Donna asked with her Minnesota accent. Jody nodded and gave them a detailed description of her appearance that was seen on the camera footage.

"So why exactly aren't the Winchester's doing anything? Or that girl for that matter, since obviously, she can take care of herself. Why is this our case?" Claire asked while raising an eyebrow to Jody.

"Things definitely did not go well between them. Dean was his normal charming self when he is suspicious of someone’s intentions," Jody said while rolling her eyes towards Donna. 

"Oh, I know how that one looks. He's not the friendliest hunter in the bunch when he gets his nerves all riled up," Donna replied while looking towards the two younger girls. 

Jody nodded in agreement. She returned her eyes to Claire that was still awaiting an answer to her question. Jody sighed heavily, hoping that they would agree with the decision she had made. 

"They need this. They all need to be forced together to realize how stubborn everyone is being. For the sake of Bobby's memory."

Claire went to speak, but stopped herself short and sat back in the chair and nodded. 

"She doesn't know about the second wolf in town, and the boys think they are just babysitting her for her own safety. If trouble finds them, I know that they will be fine as a group. Sticking together like a family keeps us all safer than when you are alone," Jody said calmly while shifting her eyes between the three women in front of her. 

Donna smiled a toothy grin at them all. "Let's go save our family then huh?"

______________________________________________________________

Sam hadn’t protested too much at Dean’s idea of going to a bar with Y/N. The way that Y/N had acted earlier, she might actually need it. He followed his brother to the car, allowing Dean to be the driver as he gave directions to Y/N’s hotel. He took the lead towards her room and gave a little knock at which Dean rolled his eyes to. Y/N opened up the door, looking like she had just recently showered and changed again. Her face looked like she was shocked and confused as to why they were at her door again.

“Hey Y/N, we were around and figured that you would probably be getting hungry here since you didn’t eat earlier. We were hoping that maybe you would like to go get something with us? Maybe try that start over I was talking about before?” Sam said giving her the best puppy dog eyes he could muster while awaiting her reply.

She gave a deep sigh and said yes. She took a minute within her room to collect her things and followed behind the boys to the car outside. Sam knew Dean would want to drive, so he politely told Y/N that he would take the back. She raised her eyebrows at him while giving him a look up and down. “I’ll fit,” Sam said with a smirk as he opened up her door and let himself into the back door. 

After a couple of minutes in a silent car ride, they were all getting out the impala and walking toward another worn down bar on the outskirts of town.  It is surprising how many run down bars a town can have, and how his brother always knew where to find them. Then again if you couldn’t find Dean all you would have to do is follow the smell of stale cigarettes and whisky to find him held up in a corner usually.

“I thought you said food?” asked Y/N while looking in Sam’s direction.

Dean spoke with a cocky grin, “Don’t worry they got that here too princess.”

This was going to be interesting. Hopefully neither one stabs someone by the end of the night. Sam rolled his eyes while shaking his head as he followed Y/N and Dean inside, hoping that tonight he would prove that they aren’t who she thinks they are. 

Keep reading- part three here

[someonesingingalong]

taxi (II)

maybe we could go back, do you wanna?

-

Kelley squints with one eye open at the glare coming through the window. She knows Becky likes to get up at the crack of dawn every day, but she didn’t have to wake up the whole world with her. The least she could do was close the blinds. Kelley groans, grabbing the nearest pillow to shield her eyes. She tries to fall back asleep until there’s pounding at the door.

“Kelley, get your ass out of bed!”

“Come on, dude, it’s almost ten! I’m hungry!”

Kelley’s head perks up in the midst of her sheets. If she didn’t already have a migraine, she definitely has one now. She makes out the time on the bedside alarm clock and curses. The pounding continues, courtesy of none other than Pinoe. She yells, raspy voice and all, “I’ll meet you down there!”

Kelley swings her legs over the bed and stands up, or at least tries to. The ground in front of her doubles and she has to blink her vision steady before toppling over. She somehow manages to make it to the bathroom, only to take one look in the mirror and realize her t-shirt was inside out and backwards, like it was haphazardly thrown on. She tries to twist it around, but upon smelling a slightly funky odor (good god, was it dirty?), she decides to change into something entirely new.

Leaving the bathroom, she’s blinded by the sun once again and hit with the sound of her teammate’s footsteps trudging back and forth down the hall. Everything’s so bright. Everything’s so loud. She takes a step forward, feeling the straps of her bra or underwear or probably both tangled between her toes. She must’ve been tired last night. She bends down to pick up her clothes, stuffing them in her duffel, but when she looks up, her sight hones in on the two precariously placed items on her nightstand: a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

Kelley corrects herself. She must’ve been drunk last night.

She silently thanks Becky for her small act of kindness and walks over, pops a few pills in her mouth and downs the glass in one go. She grabs her card key and heads down to the conference room where breakfast was held. She only trips once.

As soon as she opens the door, her ears ring with all sorts of noises- more footsteps, chatter, and forks clinking plates. She manages to spot an open seat at the nearest table and pulls out the chair, immediately laying her head on the table in defeat.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Pinoe’s eyes shine with mischief as she greet her in a sing-song tone.  

“I hate you.” Kelley mumbles into the table cloth.

“How much did you have?”

Kelley finally lifts her head, looking incredulously across the table. She responds to Becky. “How am I supposed to know?”

Alex snorts, recalling the first hour of their night out. “Three beers and two tequila shots, for starters.”

“For starters?! No way!” Pinoe’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “You’re my hero, O’Hara!” She dramatically bows down to her.

Kelley shoots her teammate a glare, “Okay, Pinoe, if you don’t want a pancake shoved in your face, I suggest you take it down a notch in volume…like to this level.” Her voice ends in a whisper. Turning to the rest of the group, she asks, “Why would you let me do this to myself?”

Allie takes her fork, pointing it back at her, “You know, in our defense, you’re the worse to keep track of. You’re like lightning fast! I don’t know, but it’s like you gain superpowers when you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, all three of us were on Kelley duty last night!” Alex gestures at herself, Allie, and Pinoe.

Emily chews with her mouth full, adding, “You lost her in like ten minutes.”

“Exactly.” Alex smirks.  

“Well, it’s not like you two were any help.” Pinoe speaks towards Becky and Emily. “If it weren’t for your whole karaoke debacle with Carli, we wouldn’t have needed to search for another bar. Honestly, that second place was poppin’!”

“Okay, first of all, stop trying to make poppin’ a thing. It hasn’t been a thing since, I don’t know, forever!” Becky argues loudly, and then continues, “And second of all, it was Carli’s fault!”

Before anyone else could get a word in, Carli interrupts from a few tables over. “It was not my fault!”

Everyone rolls their eyes and Kelley can’t help but laugh. She’s not surprised. She vaguely remembers Carli going one-on-one with the DJ. She shakes her head, “Damn, I haven’t been this hungover since college.” She watches as everyone’s brows raise in unison. She sighs, “Okay, fine, since the World Cup.”

“There you go, kid.” Becky pats her on the back.

Kelley glares in return as she gets up to get a plate of food. Nothing sounds appetizing, so she ends up with half a bowl of cheerios. She sits back down, taking a handful and throwing them in her mouth.

Emily breaks the silence, “So it’s been killing me, what did you two do last night?!” She earns a shove from Becky.

Kelley swallows, but her mouth is half full still. She turns around to make sure no one was behind her. “Two?”

“Yeah, you know, you and Hope.” Emily fills in the blank.

“Hope?!” Kelley exclaims, almost knocking over her bowl.

“Jesus, Kelley, shhh!” Becky hushes her, only to receive a blank stare from her fellow defender.

Pinoe smirks, “Well it’s not a secret they went back to the hotel alone last night. We all saw it.”

“Plus, she’s been staring over here all breakfast.” Allie adds. Alex nods beside her in agreement.

Kelley sneaks a quick look at the goalkeeper, who’s in mid conversation with Carli. She whispers, “So what happened?”

“That’s what we’re asking you!” Emily reminds her.

“I don’t remember!”

Becky sighs, the truth unfolding once she opens her mouth. “Look, you were too drunk to come with us to the second bar, and Hope was heading back to the hotel early, so we thought- well we might’ve convinced her- to take you back too. She said she’d take care of you- really, it’s Hope. She didn’t mind, and if she did, she would’ve said something. Seriously, you don’t remember anything?”

Kelley’s clearly lost. She tells them, “I think the operative word here is drunk. So no, of course I don’t remember every detail!”

“Damn, the details are the best part.” Emily whines. It takes everything in Kelley not to lunge across the table.

Kelley picks her brain, thinking really hard about the night before. “I left the hotel with Alex and Allie. I got a drink at the bar, there were some girls on the dance floor, I had another drink, uhm, oh you guys were playing pool, and then Carli started fighting with that DJ, and then it got really hot, so I left to…oh, go outside, and I saw Hope, and then she was getting into a taxi and….” Kelley’s voice trails into silence, memories flooding back (oh my god, the taxi).

She stands up suddenly, this time knocking over her bowl of cereal. There’s no time to think or make a decision other than to speak to Hope. There’s still large gaps in her memories, and she’s the only one who could remedy that. She knows she’ll regret it later, but she’s already hungover and might as well get this conversation out of the way.

Kelley sits down next to Hope, instantly harassing her with questions. “What happened?”

“Good morning to you, too.” Hope continues to pick at the last bit of food on her plate.

“What happened?” Kelley repeats. She needs to know.

“Is the aspirin helping?”

“That was you?” Kelley’s eyes widen, “You were in my room?”

“Aw, thanks Hope for taking such good care of me last night.” Hope shrugs. “What are you going to do, tell Jill?”

“Is this funny to you?” Kelley is appalled at Hope’s nonchalant behavior. “What did we do, Hope? I know you know what happened. You’re too old to get drunk.”

“No thank you and now an insult? You’re bold this morning.” Hope masks her hesitation. She realizes she’s being a lot harsher than necessary, and unfair, so she sighs, “Kelley, you’re still drunk.”

“No, I’m hungover, which means I’m one step closer to being sober.” Kelley corrects, and adds, “It also means I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

Hope explains, her tone softening, “Look, I just think we should save this for another time…maybe when we’re both fully coherent, not in the middle of breakfast, and surrounded by the entire team.” Hope likes her privacy, and she knows Kelley does too.

“We slept together, didn’t we?” Kelley bluntly concludes. Carli nearly chokes and Hope feels pairs of eyes turn on them from all over the room. It’s like they were being studied under a microscope.

Hope huffs loudly in annoyance, murmuring, “Well I was basically done with breakfast, anyways.” Before her cheeks can redden anymore, she stands up, grabs Kelley’s arm, and guides her out of the nearest exit. They stand face to face in the nook of a hallway. Hope remains quiet. Kelley had started the conversation, so it was only fitting for her to continue it.

“Tell me everything.”

Hope’s stupid to think that Kelley would let her go easily. She thought she’d have more time to wrap her head around things before this. She truly doesn’t regret anything, but Kelley doesn’t need to know that. If they truly valued their friendship, then the best thing they could do was forget about what happened. But still, Kelley deserved the truth. Hope begins to recount the night before.

“I was heading back early because I was tired. I was waiting outside for my ride when you showed up. We talked for a bit, you reeked of alcohol, and I was dumb enough to get persuaded to take you back. But whatever, I’m your teammate and friend, and that’s what friends do, they take care of each other. It wasn’t that big of a deal until we got into the taxi and well…I don’t know, you just…” Hope pauses, trying to hint to Kelley what followed after. The younger woman stands her ground, leaving Hope no choice to finish. “You were halfway outside the window at one point and then you kept touching things, mostly me, and saying things…and well, we got back to the hotel…” Hope sighs, “You really don’t remember?”

“I need to hear it from you.” Kelley replies bravely. Deep down, she already knew how the night ended.

“I was trying to undress you- you managed to get your arms stuck in your shirt- and well, I couldn’t find a clean shirt for you to wear…I don’t know, I really was just trying to help you and get you into bed- well you know what I mean…” Hope’s not sure why this is so hard for her. It just happened. She looks Kelley straight into the eye, admitting, “It wasn’t like that…until it became exactly that.”

“Fuck, Hope…just stop talking.” Kelley interrupts, not wanting to hear another word. She doesn’t need further explanation. She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. “I remember.”

Hope waits. She waits for Kelley to acknowledge her, to say anything that would remotely give her an idea of what was running through her mind. It’s not long before Kelley’s eyes lock her in.

“I was drunk!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Hope begins to apologize profusely, even if she really isn’t sorry about what they had done. “I shouldn’t have gone in the room with you, or take you home for that matter. We shouldn’t have been alone.”

“I…I didn’t know what I was doing!” Kelley stresses in disbelief.

Panic flashes across Hope’s face. She didn’t want Kelley thinking the wrong idea. She reaffirms, “Hey, I would never take advantage of you-”

“I know.” Kelley immediately cuts her off, repeating quietly. “I know you wouldn’t. I’m not saying that you ever would…it’s okay.” A weak smile forms on her lips. “I’m sure I didn’t make it easy for you.”

Hope matches Kelley’s expression, a soft chuckle escaping her. “No, you definitely did not.”

Both of them look like they’d rather talk about absolutely anything else, but the remaining conversation is inevitable. Kelley’s brave enough to speak first. She speaks so softly, she’s not sure that Hope can even catch what she asks. “Where does this leave us?”

“It never happened.” Hope won’t sugarcoat her answer. She can’t lead Kelley, or herself, into believing that this was a good thing. At the end of the day, it was a mistake.

A part of Kelley wishes that Hope’s response was different. She knows their split had been amicable, but she always liked to think that maybe they were just on a break. Even with Hope married now, Kelley can’t help but wonder if the older woman still felt anything- anything at all- for her (the answer lies in the bed sheets from the night before). She had hoped, years ago, that they’d get the chance to talk about things more, that she herself could tell Hope that she was so done being on a break. Now is her only chance.

“What if I don’t want to forget?” Kelley asks. She takes a step closer, purposely invading Hope’s personal space. She tells her honestly, “I’m not like you, Hope. I don’t do this. I don’t do one night stands.”

“I care about you, Kelley. I wouldn’t treat you like dirt, like you meant nothing to me. What happened last night was not a one night stand!” Hope pleads.

“Well it sure looked like one when I woke up this morning!”

“It wasn’t, okay? We both know it wasn’t…because there’s something between us.” Hope finally admits, taking Kelley by surprise. She never expected Hope to be so open. Things had changed. “There always has been, always will be. But we already agreed, Kell. We’re not meant to take this any further than it already has gone. We already tried years ago.”

“We didn’t try hard enough.” Kelley’s tone is full of frustration. It isn’t fair. She moves even closer, persuading Hope by the touch of her hand upon hers.

Hope immediately takes a step back, her head hung low. Her voice lowers in warning. “Don’t make me do this again, please.”

“I just want to go back, Hope.” Kelley is desperate. “If I could, I would it all over again. I would do it right.”

“I care so much about you…you don’t even know.” Hope’s voice cracks with a kind of love that pervades everywhere and everything. “But look at where we are now. It’s better this way. I’m happy- and don’t tell me I’m not because I am, okay? I’m…content.” Hope is more than aware that word has an entirely different meaning, but she doesn’t have the energy to correct it. It is what it is.

“I’m happy…that you’re happy.” Kelley slowly begins to cave. She never intended for them to fight. They were done with all that; they had grown. Yet, she’s not very convinced.

“Just let us go, alright?” Hope places her hands on Kelley’s shoulders, rubbing up and down her arms in a poor attempt to comfort her (it really just makes it worse). A lone tear escapes Kelley’s eyes, but no matter how fast she wipes it away, the trail that it leaves behind forever etches itself in Hope’s memory. Hope immediately removes her hands. “Last night was a mistake- my mistake. I won’t ever put us in this position again. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have agreed to take you home. This is on me.”

Kelley finally sees regret fill Hope’s eyes. It pains her even more, but she remembers that she’s done this once before, and she could do it again. She tells her, “Stop taking responsibility for me. This is on me, too.”

Hope nods slowly in agreement. “So we’re okay now?” She sticks her hand out, and it hangs awkwardly. Kelley looks down at her gesture and she opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. She can’t believe this; this isn’t how they do things (a handshake, really?). But Hope reads her mind as usual and before she can make another move, she hears a heavy sigh and feels strong arms wrap around her tightly.

Hope whispers into her hair, “Never mind, just come here.” Kelley buries herself in the comfort of Hope’s chest because that’s all she’s ever known and how dare Hope ask her that question when she already knows what she’ll say.  

 (No, we aren’t okay)

[pinknerdpanda]

Heaven Sent - Part 3

Word Count: 1,601

Characters: Y/n, Castiel, Dean, Sam (Mentioned)

Warnings: Snark, Heaven-Induced Insanity, Language, Angst if you squint

A/N: This is Part 3 of a mini-series I wrote for @ellen-reincarnated1967’s “Andi’s Back in the Game” challenge. Beta’d by @hannahindie and @wheresthekillswitch who also helped me to brainstorm and nail down exactly where I wanted to go. Thank you both so very much!

A/N 2: This takes place roughly midway through Season 4

Tags are at the bottom - please send me an ASK if you would like to be added (or removed).

Need to Catch up? - Series Masterlist

Heaven Sent Part 3

Y/N

“Come again?” Dean’s face is twisted up like he’s just smelled shit. Idiot.

I sigh. “Exactly which part is it you are having trouble with, Winchester?”

“Oh I don’t know...all of it? Guardian angels. That’s a thing?”

“So you have no problem believing in the existence of angels in general. But the guardian bit is what gets you?” I frown up into his big, dumb face. “That’s a bit racist, don’tcha think?”

“There is a specific class of angels that were created to protect and guard over certain humans as they live out their days on earth,” Castiel drones from behind me and I grind my teeth together.

“Certain humans, but not all,” Dean looks down and his eyes flick back and forth like he’s reading a book. “Why not all? Why me?”

“Well, ya see Deano, there are certain humans that have a...oh what’s the word...predisposition for poor life choices. And sometimes those humans have integral roles in the ‘grand scheme of things’.” I sound like a kindergarten teacher talking to their class on the first day of school, and it’s obvious from Dean’s expression that he’s not happy about it. Oh well. “So angels like me are assigned to follow around imbeciles like you and keep you safe.”

“So wait, your job was to protect me?” He raises an eyebrow at me and narrows his gaze. “Let’s see; broken bones, electrocution, gunshot and stab wounds, death...you’re terrible at your job. No wonder you got the sack.”

I’m on my feet poking him in the chest before he can react. “Actually, I was the best at my job.”

“Right. That’s why they locked you up in angel-jail then, huh? For being so awesome?” He towers over me in an attempt to intimidate me. It’s laughable, really.

“Tell me, Dean. How’d you enjoy your stay in hell?  I think you may have been standing a little too close to Lucifer’s butthole. That whole hellfire-tan thing is so last season.” The muscle in his jaw quivers and I am close enough I can hear his teeth grinding together.

“Enough! Both of you!” Castiel shouts and flicks a finger in our direction. Dean and I go flying in different directions and land ass-over-teacup on opposite sides of the room. We both glare at him and he returns the looks, sighing.

“We have bigger problems at the moment than whatever grievances you have against each other,” Cas turns to face me. “Y/n, how did you get out? What is wrong with your grace?”

“I don’t really know. While you were busy rescuing Ken Doll over here, and requesting reinforcements, things got chaotic, they must have forgotten about me. My cell was just open and I just kinda...walked out and made a break for it. I didn’t realize until after I’d gotten to Earth that my grace was so diminished. Apparently the journey zapped most of what little I had left.” I tuck my feet up, placing my chin on my knees. I hate feeling powerless, but more than that, I hate having to admit my weakness in front of him.

“That stuff can just run out?” There’s no mocking or accusation in Dean’s voice as he looks at Castiel.

“Once admitted to the HARP facility, they limit the amount of grace you’re allowed for the duration of your stay,” Castiel looks at me, his nose wrinkled up. “You are unable to teleport then. And the frequency of the angel communication? Can you hear it?”

“Not since I got here,” I swallow back tears that are threatening to fall from my eyes. Stupid humans and their stupid emotions.

“So what can you do then?” I can tell he’s not asking to be a jerk, but really? He couldn’t have phrased it better?

“I can still kick your ass at pool,” I snap.

“Touche,” Dean smirks and then sighs. “Ok, so stopping Lilith, getting your grace back, curing cancer...just another day at the office.”

“Wait, what?” Surely I hadn’t heard him correctly. I’ve done nothing but call him names and insult his intelligence...though I would argue neither was unwarranted nor unfounded...and now he’s gonna help me get my grace back? There’s gotta be a catch.

“What?” He looks as confused as I’m feeling. “Your grace? Well, I mean it sounds like it was my fault you lost it to begin with. I figure we can use all the help with Lilith we can get, and when we’re done and that bitch is back in the pits of hell where she belongs, wouldn’t the God-Squad be willing to reconsider their stance?”

He looks to Cas for confirmation and he nods noncommittally. I manage to contain my remark about Dean knowing his fair share about bitches in hell. It’s a shame really; it was a good one. I appreciate his offer, but the idea of being anywhere near him or his abomination of a brother, much less Lilith and all of her seal nonsense is marginally less appealing than roaming the earth mostly human.

“You know what, I think I’ll pass, but thanks anyway, Dean.” I stand to leave and he charges across the room.

“So what? That’s it? ‘I think I’ll pass’?” He grabs my upper arm in a furious grip. “You don’t care that Lucifer could be coming back topside at any moment? That the world could be ending?”

“I mean, I know I should care,” I jerk my arm from his hand. “But ya know? Turns out, insanity has it’s perks.”  

I wish I could say that the decision to leave that hotel room has had no effect on me; that the image of Dean and Castiel’s faces - all disbelief and anger - don’t haunt me as I’ve wandered from town to town. I mean I could, but what’s the point in lying?

That’s not saying that my “world tour” as I’ve deemed it has not been completely void of small victories. It’s not like I lost 95% of my grace and suddenly I’m not an angel anymore...ok well, bad example. That’s basically exactly what’s happened. But I am still compelled to help people; that’s one thing that no one can take away from me. Which is good, because apathy is certainly a plague upon humanity as a whole.

In Des Moines, I performed the heimlich maneuver on an elderly man at a Biggerson’s who’d literally bit off more than he could chew. His wife was quite emotional and asked how she could repay me. I explained I was just passing through and high-tailed it out of there before the paramedics could arrive.

I was people watching at a mall in Peoria, enjoying a delicious Sbarro calzone when I saw two men flanking a teenage girl. Thanks to the convenient portability of said calzone, I was able to continue enjoying my lunch as I caught up with one of the two men. It’s amazing how fast flashing a long, silver stabbing object and mumbling threats of bodily harm around mouthfuls of cheese and pepperoni can make a couple of hooligans rethink their life choices.

Huntington though, that’s where I had my epiphany. I’d found a lovely park on a lovelier day. The sun was burning bright and warm overhead as the sounds of birdsong intermingled with the laughter of the children playing. One thing I’ve noticed about humans these days is their inability to be present. The worst is when parents get so wrapped up in capturing the moment digitally that they completely miss the subtle nuances of those moments as they happen. That day in Huntington, I’d watched this mother take at least 18 different photos of her young son swinging, completely ignoring his pleas for “higher Mommy!” until he’d crawled to a stop entirely. When she finally did give him a second gentle push, she immediately went back to her photo taking.

I could tell by the look on his face that something was wrong, but I suppose she was too concerned about the composition and lighting to realize what was happening. Having a full charge of grace certainly would have made the whole thing easier, but even running on nearly dead batteries, I made it there in time. Just as he slid off the seat of the swing and fell backward toward the ground, I was able to scoop him up; no harm done.

As he looked up at me with those large, hazel eyes, still shrouded in fear, he said “Mommy says there are angels watching over me; to protect me and keep me safe. You must be one.”

I know in his childlike naivete, he was simply trying to reconcile things he understands as fact, with the realization that a stranger was now holding him, having saved him from harm. But it was like he was seeing into the essence of my being. “You must be one.”

I must be one. It is my job. I must perform the duties I was created for and assigned to accomplish - not out of obligation, but because that is who I am. I can save a dozen kids from unnecessary ER visits or even 100 young girls from being attacked, but if Lucifer rises and destroys the earth, none of it matters. As much as I hate to admit it, Dean was right. But mark my words, I would rather die than let him hear me admit that. Those two idiots are the key to stopping the apocalypse and I have no idea where they are, but I have an idea of who might.

Read Part 4 HERE

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[eggutamaplz]

Operation Klance Con: Day 2

I said I would upload it here later today, so here it is!

This chapter was written by me.

The Ao3 chapter link is here.

Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Day 2

It is very early in the morning when Pidge stirs from her sleep, the entire room lit up by a singular Netflix message flashed over the end credits of Big Hero 6 on the TV: “Are you still watching?”

The room is filled with only the noises of soft breathing (or in Hunk’s case, soft snoring) and the air conditioner. Pidge gropes around to find her glasses and her phone, and groans as she turns on the display to check the time, the brightness burning into her eyes. 5:18 A.M., she thinks. Oh well, I can’t go back to sleep now otherwise I’ll just oversleep again.

Careful to not step on her teammates and friends, Pidge maneuvers around their bodies and creeps onto the balcony the hotel room had, providing a view of the convention center and the luminescence of the city. The sky slowly starts gaining an indigo color to signify the birth of another day, slowly consuming the twinkling stars, nebulas, galaxies, and other heavenly bodies in its wake. The moon, however, appears to be untouched.

Quiznak, to think that I’ve been to those same star systems above me, light-years away… and spent years amongst them...

Green sends a nudge in Pidge’s mind.

She chuckles. Of course, you were with me the entire time, girl. Well, after a boat ride with Shiro and a sloth creature, and after a brief separation a little trip to a garbage galaxy. We’ve been through alot together, huh?

Her lion purrs in agreement and a hint of pride.

Pidge stays on the balcony for a little while after grabbing a drink from (*insert names of people who are in charge of the room*)’s mini-fridge, watching the sky’s portrait continue being painted with colors. Not too long after getting her drink, the horizon slowly gains a streak of gold as the sun is reborn from the earth, the wispy clouds a strange yet beautiful silhouette against the canvas.

She heard movement behind her, from where she’s perched herself on a chair. She turns her head to see Hunk, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, shuffling over to her.

“Mornin’, big man,” Pidge says, shooting a two-fingered wave to her groggy newcomer.

“Good-” Hunk yawns. “-morning.” He stretches his arms and back, facing the sun. “Y’know, I really missed seeing the sunrise from Earth. Though we’ve witnessed many different sunrises on many different planets, home’s is-” Another yawn, as he ties his trademark bandana under his bangs and ties the knot on the back of his head. “- still the prettiest to look at.”

“Ditto, both on missing the sunrise and witnessing others,” Pidge replied, giving a yawn of her own shortly after. “Aw great, you’re gonna make me sleepy again from your yawning alone.”

“Oops?” Hunk shrugs while turning around and walking back into the room, passing their roommates for that night. “I might as well start cooki… okay now that’s just adorable.”

He starts grinning and motions with his hands for Pidge to come back into the room. She quirks an eyebrow, but leaves her roosting spot on the chair to look at Hunk is smiling about.

What she sees is pure blackmail material seeing the way her fellow paladins act.

Shiro and Allura are asleep sitting upright at the foot of one of the beds, the Altean Princess resting her head on the Black Paladin’s shoulder, he himself laying his own head on top of her’s. Pidge catches Allura nuzzling into Shiro’s neck, the side of his mouth quirking upward for a second in response. Their fingers are woven together between their sleeping bodies.

The Green Paladin snickers softly as she starts snapping pictures of the scene. “Ohoho, I see Space Mom and Dad have seemed to make advancements other than in battle strategies and technology for once.”

“That’s not the end of it. Look to the right,” Hunk says, gesturing to a place on the floor. He then proceeds to take a box of breakfast sausages out of his bag.

Pidge follows his gesture to be met with Keith and Lance. Asleep side by side, and quite close in proximity that is, their chests basically touching. Not only that, their legs are tangled together, and Keith’s arm is loosely wrapped around Lance’s sleeping figure, as if he was actually trying to snuggle with Lance.

Pidge continues to take pictures. “oh my god, this is too good. Lance and Keith are gonna flip out when they find themselves like this,” she whisper-shouts towards Hunk. “I mean seriously, Keith is like…” She crosses her arm and tilts her head downwards. “‘My name is Keith. I’m so emo, and I’m thirsty for Lance but I don't and will not want to admit it yet and I’m always jealous about him flirting with Allura!!’”

Hunk muffled a snicker behind his hand. “Don’t get me started on Lance about Keith. He’s always ranting about him but honestly it’s more like lowkey whining about how Keith is hot, and I’m pretty sure he means more than just hot-headed. Send me those pictures you took by the way,” he says as he continues preparing breakfast for the team.

The shorter hums in response. “I would continue this conversation, but it’s 6 A.M, and the drive to the con building is pretty far away.”

Pidge produces a wireless speaker from her bag, turns it on, and connects her phone to it. She then goes on YouTube, searches something up, and then clicks on a video.

“Hunk?” Pidge says.

“Yeah?” Hunk yells over his shoulder.

“Brace your eardrums for this and enjoy the show.”

And she turns the volume up to max.

The very start wakes everyone up with a jolt.

Everyone that was woken up let out startled screams and discontented groans, however their sounds were drowned out by the ear rape and Pidge’s hysterical laughter.

The first thing Keith noticed about his position is that oh my god. I slept right next to Lance. There is a blanket. Over our legs. We slept under the same blanket. He then remembers the final minutes before he went to sleep, where Lance laid his head on his shoulder, and very sleepily and stupidly let him be this way, and fell asleep snuggling with him.

Oh my quiznaking god I snuggled with him… lord take me now.

“PIDGE, WHAT THE QUIZNAK?!” Lance screams, now immediately up and on his knees. He, like the others, UCKare severely triggered. “YOU WAKE US UP WITH EAR RAPE AND RICKROLL?! YOU LITTLE SHIT I WON’T HESITA-”

The Green Paladin pauses the ear rape video. “Okay okay, Ocean Man,” Pidge says, raising her arms up in surrender, however a mischievous look plastered upon her face. “However before you kill me, I wanna know why you were sleeping next to Keith all…” She wriggles her eyebrows. “... couple-like.”

Lance quirks an eyebrow, confused. “Huh?” He then looks to his right, and sees Keith, slightly groggy yet wide-eyed, running his fingers through his bed-head mullet (oh god why is that so hot- wait what?), avoiding eye contact with him. Keith was also very close in proximity, and the blanket covering both boys’ legs only contributed to the fact.

Keith had already seemed to notice this and was very red.

Lance himself ended up doing the same.

Oh god oh god oh god Pidge why are you like this does he remember last night? What he did? D- Keith thought, but his racing thoughts were abruptly cut off by a pillow slamming into his face.

When he grabbed the pillow and pulled it off his face, he was met with Pidge and the others, trying not to explode from laughter, save for Hunk as he was already in the buffet. In addition to the laughter, Lance gave a shit-eating grin, but was also seemingly blushing out of embarrassment.

“Oops?” Lance said. “I was just trying to match how much you wanna tap male ass in the form of the force of a pillow hitting you in the face.”

Keith blinked, then in a flash pinned down Lance with a firm push from his palm to the other boy’s chest, that hand slamming on the floor next to Lance’s face once he hit the floor.

Lance, internally, was a fucking mess.

Here he was, pinned down by the Red Paladin after slight teasing, in front of his teammates, who were probably laughing and/or staring at the scene that unfolded in front of their eyes.

Keith, hovering over Lance now, gave a smirk. In a low, slightly flirtatious voice, he said, “Like that?”, which honestly, was doing a number of things to him mentally, and hopefully-not-but-probably physically. He was pretty sure his face was as red as the Red Lion’s body.

The Red Paladin, however, was freaking out. Did I say it like I did that one time in the snowball asteroid field?!

Lance was about to probably combust because of this rare, handsome, really fucking hot (okay whoa there buddy) Keith on top of him, but then he was met with a pillow full force to the face.

The thoughts subsided, replaced with the flame of battle.

“OKAY, IT’S FUCKING ON MULLET. ARE YOU READY TO SURRENDE-” Lance was forcefully hit again with Keith’s pillow.

He flopped on the floor with an abundance of dramatics. “Shiro, I’ve been hit,” Lance wails. “Avenge me, you beautiful 5-year-old!” He then makes choking noises to imitate death. Keith snickers while smothering Lance’s face with his feathery weapon and repeatedly smacking him with it.

Shiro laughs, slowly scooching away hugging his own pillow. “Nope, sorry Lance. I pick and choose battles, and it seems like a personal situation. Sorry!”

Pidge is observing the situation, obviously loving it. “Ha, truly number one in the `Top 10 Anime Betrayals’.”

“Well, we’re technically not an anime, our animation is owned by Dreamworks and Studio Mir, so we’re more like anime-inspired. Actual anime is animation straight from Japan,” mumbles Coran, watching from the sidelines.

Allura hears Coran mumbling and turns to him. “Hm? Coran, did you say something?”

“Ah, nothing important,” Coran replies.

Meanwhile, Shiro continues on. “I don’t know, you guys seem really occupied over there,” he says in a slight teasing tone.

“Yeah, probably, while you’re probably thinking, ‘wow, Allura is the most beautiful being in the universe, and I know this because I’ve been across the entire universe!’” Lance retaliates.

“I’m with Lance on this one, sorry Shiro,” Keith adds, still trying to lowkey suffocate Lance under him. “You guys fell asleep holding hands and looking quite content at that. C’mon guys.”

Shiro then turns a shade of red. He turns to Allura, who is also blushing. Their eyes meet, have some sort of understanding. Somewhat along the lines of, hey, you're embarrassed, I’m embarrassed, they’re responsible for this, let’s kick their asses. They nod in confirmation.

Then they hurl their pillows at Keith and Lance together in tandem.

This sparks the start of a pillow war, pillows being thrown between the Red, Blue and Black Paladins and the Princess. Pidge, Hunk, Coran, and Shay all witness the intense thwipping of pillows flying through the air and hitting each other in the face, along with a long stream of comments.

Eventually, everyone joins in the fight for the fun of it, except for Hunk, who was smiling to himself, looking over his friends every now and then as he eats the food he got from the buffet.

After 15 minutes, Hunk calls everyone to breakfast down at the buffet, and the paladins and their companions get their food- while still giddy from their pillow battle- and get back to their respective hotel rooms to get ready for Day 2.

Everyone shortly meets up after that, and in no time they’re back in the line for Day 2 of AX at 8 A.M. However, since they got their badges yesterday, they didn’t have to wait in line. But as they were in the car Lance notices Pidge typing something into her phone.

A minute later, his phone buzzes with two text notifications.

Keith also receives a text shortly after.

The texts both of them receive are a short message and a YouTube link from Pidge.

Pidgeon Molt(ing)/Pidge

Have some music I found today, I think it’d suit you, ya dense fucker ‘,;P

https://youtu.be/AzpHVQTlbdU

Well, it doesn't look like the rickroll link at least, Lance thinks, as he clicks, and plugs in his headphones.

Keith simply reads the message and clicks on the link.

The link sends them to a video with a song from a musical, Be More Chill. Lance has heard about, but never watched or listened to himself, while Keith on the other hand has listened to this song once or twice.

Another notification pops up in front of them as the instrumental starts.

Lance’s says this:

Pidgeon Molt(ing)

After listening to this, I want you to honestly tell me and Hunk how you feel about quote unquote “Mr. Mullet Man” later in person or through text

Lance frowns at this. Why Keith? Sure, I’ve been in compromising situations with him, but… He shakes his head to cut off his thoughts, and listens to the song and the lyrics.

Pidge’s message to Keith however, says:

Pidge

Just listen to it I already know how much you like this song so eh I sent it to a few other people?? Besides you honestly could be Christine or Jeremy… or both???

Keith lets out a sigh through his nose, smiling. He lets the music play and starts losing himself in the song.

“You’re used to thinking about him in a certain way

From the persona that he displays

Then one day it changes

And he changes…

From a guy that you’d never be into

Into a guy that you’d kinda be into

From a guy that I’d never be into

Into a guy that I’d kinda be into

Is he worth it?”

If Lance was the guy who this girl was talk/singing to, he’d definitely say “yes”. He knows himself that you can’t control when you gain crushes or fall in love-

Wait. Pidge said to think about Keith… Lance thought.

He looks over to the boy in question, who is nodding his head to his own music, eyes closed with a smile on his face. His hair falls repeatedly over his eyes, but he seems to not notice or care.

He looks so… carefree. He so stony and hotheaded at most times, even after we defeated Zarkon and Lotor, but yet sometimes… those moments when he genuinely smiles and has fun…

I like it. I really want to see more of it.

Meanwhile, Hunk, walking next to him, was observing Lance and Keith listening to the song.

He got a text notification.

Katie Holt (Pidge)

Is Lance listening to it

I know Keith is he’s bouncing his head

Hunkie Chunkie

Yeah, he is. And he is looking very contemplative. And he’s also staring at Keith like an ethereal being.

Katie Holt (Pidge)

Good phase 1 of Operation Klance Con is a go

Hunkie Chunkie

Wait, we had a name AND a plan for a thing we merely discussed before 6 A.M in the morning?

Katie Holt (Pidge)

Nah

Actually it sounds cool you wanna keep the name

Hunkie Chunkie

Sure. We’ll discuss the plan later…

Lance continued listening to the song, watching Keith bop his head to whatever music he was listening to.

The music drew to an end, and he laughed when Christine anticlimactically sang out “yeah, that guy that I’d kinda be into is… Jake.”

He put the song back on repeat to listen to it again and think about the lyrics and his own feelings.

Then came the verse again.

“Say there’s this person that you never knew that well

You thought that you had him pegged but now you can tell he’s gone

From a guy that you’d never be into

Into a guy that you’d kinda be into

From a guy that I’d never be into

Into a guy that I’d kinda be into

Is he worth it?”

In this verse, Lance could relate, in regards to Keith.

Way back when at the Garrison, he was all of a sudden plucked out of the cargo pilot class straight into fighter class, apparently because Keith Kogane, top pilot in the class, had temper issues and was kicked out.

The general consistently reminded him of that, for every single slip-up he made.

He always saw Keith as this talented, impulsive hothead who apparently does not have a sense for trends, proof cited in his mullet. That’s how most people saw him.

Months after when he saw Keith again along with Hunk and Pidge, he just had to follow him, to find Shiro, only to find out that he doesn’t even remember him. His replacement as a fighter pilot, Lance’s self-proclaimed rival.

And then they found Blue, flew to Arus, met Allura and Coran, and suddenly became part of Voltron.

Despite the entire change in scenery, Lance only continued to him as the guy at the Garrison and a rival, and it kept him from cooperating with him. And it seemed that Keith had the same mutual feelings.

And then the fight with Zendak happened.

After he recovered, he denied he remembered anything, but… he did. He remembered Keith giving him his hand, and instead of pulling him up, kneeling down to where he was sitting, all bruised up and slipping in and out of consciousness. Him telling Keith they were a good team while giving a weak smile. Keith reciprocating the smile before he fell unconscious again.

Then waking up for a minute while Keith was carrying him over to a healing pod, then passing out yet again.

From that event on, their dynamic… changed in a way. They still did bicker, sure, but they worked together much more easily and willingly. They gradually learnt more and more about one another, along with the whole team.

And then when Shiro disappeared… Keith trusted him with Red. A lion as impulsive as him, whose trust and respect had to be earned. He also helped him cope with the temporary loss of Shiro, talking with and comforting Keith as necessary.

Keith was still the same boy from the Garrison, his rival… but as time went on Lance found much more behind the prejudicial wall he had built around Keith, way back when. As impulsive as he is, he cares about others, so much to even rescue a being from the enemy. He isn’t as stony as people make him to be. He doesn’t really get jokes, he cries, he has fears, he has good days and bad days. It’s part of him, it’s part of who he is, Keith’s human.

Well, he’s technically half human, half Galra… living being??? Ah, whatever.

So in that way… he can relate to Christine, in thinking you had a person pegged. But being into him?...

…

“Absolutely,” sings out Jeremy and his Squip, and Lance agrees on his end.

Hunkie Chunkie

Lance has been staring at Keith for more than a minute. I can hear him thinking.

And it looks like we’ve hit realization.

Katie Holt (Pidge)

It seems my purpose for this song has been fulfilled thank you BMC

Lance decides to listen to the rest of the musical from the beginning to pass the time in the line.

By the time he finishes “Michael in the Bathroom” (poor Michael… sounds like a bad panic attack, Lance thinks), they are back inside the convention center. Shay, Rax, and Matt met up with them at the entrance with matching cosplays.

“Alright, paladins, day two of Anime Expo. What’s the plan?” Coran asked, twiddling with his mustache, as well as donning a simple green Scouting Legion Jacket, while Allura wears a Military Police version of the jacket. The rest of Team Voltron wear full Scouting Legion uniform cosplay, except for Pidge, wearing a Garrison jacket.

“Are you wearing that thing ironically?” Lance asked, seeing as the paladins were… well… students themselves in the Garrison. “Wait, how did you and Allura even get those jackets?!”

“Bought the badges and sewed them onto jackets. You just don’t really think about it cuz most of the time it’s always Scouting Legion people want. All versions of the jackets are generally the same price on the Internet, if you want to buy it off of eBay or something,” Pidge replies with a shrug.

“Jackets apart,” Keith said, checking his outfit, “I think we look pretty quiznaking awesome.” He sneaks a glance at Lance, who notices, and returns a smile.

“I totally second that, and I’m totally loving it, cuz I’m totally the best looking one,” Lance says, posing and changing his soft smile into a sarcastic grin. His replies from the team were a mix of laughing and groaning. Keith covered his mouth with a hand, but Lance could tell by the crinkles at the side of his eyes that he was hiding a smile.

“I know you’re smiling Keith,” Lance sings. “Come on, you know you’re allowed to exhibit enjoyment and let loose here. We’re not fighting aliens, we’re back home, it’s an expo!”

Keith drops his hand, however confused by Lance’s statement. The boy in question pokes the Red Paladin in the side, making him laugh and cover his eyes with a hand by habit.

“C’mon, Keef, lemme see it!” Lance coaxes, taking Keith’s hand covering his hand in his own.

Keith finally gives up trying to hide his smile and looks at Lance, laughing so carefree. Once he calms down, he looks at the Blue Paladin, giving him that smile that he longed to see. Lance feels his face heating up.

“Y’know Lance, at some points you never change,” Keith says in almost a whisper, the tenderness in his eyes unshielded. Lance lets out a soft laugh, returning the smile.

Meanwhile, Pidge, Hunk, Shay, Shiro, Allura, and Coran look at the intimate display between the two boys.

“Is it just me and Pidge, or are Keith and Lance probably going to follow the ‘red and blue characters are in love’ trope from a lot of books and TV shows?” Hunk asked the group while the two in question were having their moment.

They all looked at each other then back at Pidge. Their faces were blank as they nodded.

“Honestly, I could tell even before the space mice filled me in,” Allura said. “Their courtship rituals are… blatantly obvious.” Coran simply nods in agreement.

“Yeah,” Shiro agreed. “Keith always talks to me in our free time, and since he’s like my little brother, well… I know him pretty well and I can read him like a book. Besides, he trusts me with secrets, but honestly this-” the Black Paladin gestures to Lance and Keith. “- doesn’t look like a secret, or at least trying to keep it.”

Everyone expectantly turns to Shay, who just shrugs. “I do not know of other Skylings’ courtship rituals, so I simply did not look into it. However as this seems like one according to the rest of you, I believe they are doing that… how did you say it again Pidge?” She turns to the shortest of the group.

“Pining?” Pidge suggests.

“Ah yes, ‘pining’. They are pining,” Shay says.

Everyone else agreed and waited for Lance and Keith to notice that they were staring at them. It admittedly took a while, and it was only because Pidge ended up playing “Careless Whisper” from her endless library of audio memes.

“You gonna have a bonding moment you finally remember, Lance?” Pidge snickered, and Lance groaned.

“Pidge, please stop.”

“The Pidgeon makes no promises~” she sings while walking off towards Artists Alley.

From there, the team follows her, and for the next couple hours they spend their time wandering around Artist Alley, buying fan merchandise and taking pictures with other cosplayers, and attending panels.

-

“Oh my god, they have a pin that says ‘Space Dad’,” Keith chokes out while laughing. “Lance, should we get it?”

“Already way ahead of you, Keith.” He says as she holds out her hand, revealing a copy of that pin, as well as an assortment of other space-related buttons.

-

“Katie, you are not buying us hats that say ‘problematic’,” Matt says.

“Says my brother who bought like, half of the Kanan merch here in this entire area,” Pidge replies.

“SHE IS MY BEST GIRL AND OSHIMEN I SACRIFICED FUCKING 3 OF MY DREAM URS OF OTHER GIRLS JUST TO CONTINUE THE OSHIMEN CHALLENGE. I. AM. DEDICATED.”

“Yup, getting the hat set.”

-

“Wait, so Shiro, are you kinda like Marco because you lost your right arm?”

“Lance. No. Marco lost like almost all his right half of his body and died. I only lost my right arm, which is now a pretty badass prosthetic, and I’m alive. I think… wait, what if I’m still floating out in space?”

“Shiro, calm down,” Hunk says.

“What if I’m still in cryosleep and all of you are figments of my imagination?”

“Shiro. You’re fine.”

“What if this is the afterlife and I’m actually dea-”

“Okay, that’s enough existential crisis for Space Dad,” Lance says, and pats Shiro’s back, who would basically have a dark shadow masking his eyes and have squiggly lines over his head if he was an anime character right now.

-

“Is that a… dancing hot dog?” Allura says as she squints her eyes at a t-shirt display.

“Seems quite so, Princess,” Coran says. “Apparently this is what humans call a ‘meme’, as well as many more photographs, like this adorable specimen!” He points at a picture of Doge.

“Human culture is weird,” the Altean princess decides.

-

Before the gang could even notice, the sun has traveled to the western part of the sky, and they walk out of the convention center, caps emblazoned with the word “problematic”. Matt’s is decorated with Kanan buttons, and Shiro’s cap has a pin that says “Space Dad”.

The plaza in front of the place is still relatively crowded, but less hectic than inside the building. Many people are seen taking group pictures and chilling outside. A performer duo finishes a piece on the sidewalk, and passerby applaud.

Team Voltron starts walking back to their van after saying goodbye to Shay, Matt and Rax when the music playing from a speaker changes, and suddenly both Keith and Shiro stop abruptly in their tracks, catching the attention of the rest of them.

Lance, who has a pin on his Survey Corps. jacket that says “uranus is out of this world”, turns around, confused. “Uh, guys? You okay?”

Shiro smiles. “Yeah, definitely. Something Keith and I remember from a while back came up, right?” He looks over at Keith, who is donning a nostalgic, yet energetic smile.

“Definitely. Do you still remember our choreography Shiro?!” He asks.

“It’s been a while, so I might be a bit rusty. But hell yeah, I still remember.”

Keith’s eyes grow brighter. “Wanna do it for old times’ sake?”

“I thought you’d ask that, and the answer is definitely yes,” Shiro replies, then walks with Keith to a more open spot on the pavement.

Lance, Pidge, Hunk, and Shay at first are confused, when Allura suddenly says, “Oh, so this is what the mice told me about!”

“Wait,” Matt asks, “You know about Keith and Shiro’s dance?”

“Dance?!” The Blue, Green and Yellow Paladins echo, bewildered. Shay is still quite confused. Then Pidge straightens.

“Oh yeah, now I remember! It’s their song playing right now!” She says, and nudges Lance’s arm. “You might want to prepare your bisexual pining heart for this. Allura looks full-on ready. It’s gonna be fucking amazing.”

“Pidge, what do you mean? And how have I not heard of th-” Lance starts, but then shuts himself up when he sees Keith and Shiro in position, then moving in sync, mirroring each other’s movements to the beat of a BTS song.

However, as Lance starts to notice, the choreography both boys are dancing isn’t simply a copy of the original dance for the song, cut down for two people.

(And he knows this, because he has watched BTS’s MVs, thank you very much.)

No, this was a dance made from just the two of them, Brogane trademarked and choreographed.

An audience started building up around their display, some taking their phones out and recording, many cheering.

Keith then did a certain move where he ran his hands up his body, through his mullet, then turned to Lance, and smirked.

And then he winked.

He quiznaking winked.

This sent another fresh wave of cheers through the crowd, Team Voltron’s louder than the rest (although admittedly Allura’s cheers could be heard as the loudest of the group). However, Lance was only semi-aware of this, as he was currently occupied on pondering why he hasn’t melted into a puddle on the floor yet by the sheer heat of the Broganes’ dance and the fire in his cheeks.

Oh god, when did Keith and Shiro MAKE this dance?! This is way too seductive for my own good, quiznak! Lance thought, watching the rest of the performance.

A minute later, Keith and Shiro drew to their final pose, the music ending and their chests heaving out of exertion. Their audience clapped and cheered enthusiastically, multiple wolf whistles being heard as well. The Black and Red Paladins bowed, then walked back over to the group.

“It’s just as I remember it,” Matt says, still applauding the two as he hands the two boys water bottles. “You couldn't even tell that they hadn't danced this together in a few years!”

“That. Was. Amazing! I didn’t know you guys could dance like that!” Hunk took the Broganes into a tight hug then let them go.

“I agree. The dance was quite enjoyable to experience!” Shay adds on as she walks and stands next to Hunk.

Allura and Lance both exploded with the same question. “WHERE AND WHEN DID YOU LEARN THAT DANCE?!”

Keith blinked, smiled, and replied first. “Well, it was around a year before Shiro and Matt left for the the Kerberos mission. Me and him were really close and loved the same music, and we randomly decided one day to make our own choreography to one of our favorite BTS songs.”

“At first it was a little thing we did on a whim,” Shiro continued, “but eventually the dance ended up being our thing, and it stuck with us. We made tweaks and practiced it like we were actually going to perform it for a huge audience. We danced it for Matt and Katie one time, and that’s how they know about it!”

Lance was impressed. “I never really thought of you guys dancing together, K-pop at that. But seriously, you guys were amazing!”

“Wait, what’s K-pop?” Allura asked, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “Is it a genre?”

“Right you are, Princess,” Coran answers. “According to Keith, ‘tis a type of music that is popular in a country called Korea, hence the ‘K’ in ‘K-pop’, as well as here in America.”

“Anyways, let’s head back to the hotel now, it’s already 7 P.M. and we still have 2 more days left of AX,” Shiro says. “And this time, no staying up late!”

On the way back, Pidge and Hunk notice Lance staring aimlessly ahead, looking contemplative again.

They nodded to each other, and Pidge took out her phone and texted something to Lance. Seconds later, Lance opened his phone.

Pidgeon Molt(ing)

So do you have your answer ^^

Lance looked up at Keith in front of him, who was happily ranting about a Mothman cosplayer he met at the con today with Shiro and Allura.

Hunk and Pidge saw him smile fondly at the scene, and looked back at them while texting his response.

Ocean Man

Oh yeah

His “best ass in the galaxy” pin is spot on ;;;)))))

Pidgeon Molt(ing)

ha, ha. -_-

Pidge however then looked up to see Lance smiling awkwardly at her and Hunk.

Team Voltron continued their walk back to the van, facing the setting sun, the Garrison trio satisfied with Lance’s real answer as it reflected in that smile and his eyes.

Okay, fine. I like Keith.

[soonwellbefoundfic]

I know that this will hurt you..

larry.

“Can we just stay here for a few days instead of flying back home?” Her question drew my eyes away from my iPad.

“You wanna stay here – in LA?” I quizzed, shocked.

We hadn’t been home in forever, and I was sure that she missed it but she was proving me wrong.

“You not tired of hotel?” We’d done a hotel in Paris for nearly a week and then two different resorts in Malé.

“I mean,” She shrugged. “Not really. My clothes situation is off since I didn’t really pack when I was in my right mind.”

I thought about the way she’d left New York without me and rolled my eyes.

“But I can always just buy what I need.” She carried us back to the safe zone with her words.

“How long you want us to be here?” I quizzed, okay with the idea.

She shrugged. “Just a few days.”

We were only due to stay in this hotel for a few hours as we’d missed our connecting flight. And while I had slept in many airports I knew Marlee wouldn’t be down to.

“You wanna do different hotel?”

I looked around at the neutral walls and basic stock furniture. This place was close to the airport and convenient. It’s initial purpose was to give us somewhere to rest and recharge after our long and grueling flight but it was morphing into something quite different.

She looked around, eyeing the window that offered a view of the parking lot instead of the scenic LA mountainscape and then the mini fridge that held snacks that were anything but complimentary.

“This is fine.”

My brows hitched. “You sure? I want you to be comfortable.”

“I’m good, Larry. I’m not some pampered princess who needs a suite at the Beverly Wilshire.”

“You not?” I gasped with faux surprise.

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “No.”

“Well,” I moved my iPad to the side, pressing my body to hers. “Then how you fool me and make me think that for all these years?”

Her eyes dropped and a blush consumed her cheeks. “I think you more than a princess.”

“Stop it, I’m getting turned on.” Her declaration deepened my grin.

“Then maybe I say, I think you a queen?” Laughter exploded from her lush lips.

“Stooopp,” She whined even as her eyes darkened. “I wanna go eat something.”

“I wanna eat something too.”

Her ability to leave me insatiable was no surprise. She was magical.

There was no way possible I could ever get enough of her. Her touch, her taste, the feel of her wrapped around me, her blissful facial expressions, the sounds she made…

I shifted, needing to get away from my thoughts. I too was hungry but I would starve in an effort to experience her. She would fill me up in more ways than one.

“Stop,” She breathed as she crawled across the bed and into my lap. Her warmth and weight brought instant comfort.

My hand instantly moved to her bare thigh, stroking upward. I smirked when she shifted and smiled when her flesh grew textured under my touch due to chill bumps.

The way Marlee reacted to me was one of my favorite things. I’d become a master of reading her, having dealt with years of nonverbal signs that she was aroused. Everything from the flare of her nostrils to the twitch of her thighs often told the story of what I did to her.

“Can we go to Larchmont Bungalow?” She quizzed, pulling me away from my thoughts.

I smirked. “You remembers that?”

“Yes,” Her nod was soft and her voice quiet.

“Tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“What else you remember, Chinky?”

“I surprised you here when I found out about Laurent.” The mention of our son made me freeze. My heart ached as I recalled her flying out to personally notify me about our unborn son. My joy had propelled me to perform harder than I ever had with Monster.

“And I met Jay.” She moved on with ease. I’m not sure if she was being strong or sparing me because I was weak.

“Yesssss,” I laughed. “I think you get me fire because you act so crazy.”

“I did not!” She defended herself only it was no use. She’d nearly fainted when she met my boss’ mogul husband for the first time.

I shook my head. “You not remember right.”

“How you gonna tell me?”

“Because, girl with the broke head,” She gasped and lunged for me. “I remember better.” I easily dodged her advance.

“My head ain’t broke enough to not remember how that bird shitted on you on Hollywood Boulevard.” Her laughter closed the sentence and I peered at her, shocked.

She remembered the tiniest moments – things that could easily be written off as irrelevant. Her rediscovery of the past shun a much needed light on things I hadn’t necessarily forgotten but didn’t think of in the current times.

While there were intense shadows and some negativity, her memories were like a beacon of light. Her remembering little things and reminding me only intensified my adoration for her.

“I hate birds.” I mumbled, remembering my brand new Balmain tee that was ruined by the flying rodent.

“They hate you more.” She grinned. “You got shitted on in London too.”

Her cackles sounded and grew louder as I pushed her off of my lap and onto the soft mattress. She rolled onto her side, clutching her stomach as her laughter intensified.

“Is not funny,” I grumbled, even as I chuckled a bit.

I could remember that day like yesterday. We were young and not even dating yet when I revealed to her that London was less than three hours away via train. 

She’d assumed that because it was a different country it was super far. And my twin had no issue condescendingly informing her of the fact that European countries were not ‘stupid and big’ like American states.His rude declaration sparked an immediate argument between the two. 

After listening to Lau’s broken English and her snarky Brooklyn slang for five minutes I grew annoyed and settled things by promising Marlee to take her to the English speaking country.

The following week I did. And as I watched the girl of my dreams coo and take pictures of Big Ben I got shitted on by a malicious pigeon.

“You had on a white shirt too!” She hollered, eyeing me through eyes glazed over with tears.

“And I not have money to buy a new shirt cause I spend it all for this girl I think I like.” I expanded on the story. “Now she laugh at me so bad, I don’t know anymore.”

“If you like me?” She took a deep breath, coming down from her laughter.

My heart pounded rapidly in the confines of my chest as she wiped at her eyes, smiling at me. She was dangerous but I’d known that and still wanted everything to do with her. 

What she did to me was out of this world. She introduced me to the most intimate love. She managed to hold my attention for over ten years even with my short attention span.  

“Yeah,” I answered, distracted by her loving gaze and wide grin. “I maybe change my mind.”

“You looove me,” She sang, making her way back to my lap.

“I think maybe I don’t know.” I softly shrugged.

“Oh you know, nigga!” She playfully snapped, cradling my cheeks in her warm palms as my hands found their way back to her lush thighs.

My gaze locked on hers and my lungs nearly collapsed. Her smiling down at me with joy in her eyes and love in her heart was a sight I never wanted to erase.

She was most beautiful like this. Her face lacked all traces of makeup, her hair was wild and untamed and her skin rich in color from being freshly kissed by the sun. Her eyes were as bright as stars – she was happy, and as I peered at her I silently vowed to make her happy for the rest of my days.

I’d made the same promise before – mutely and verbally but I’d failed. I’d half-assed it and led her to despair. But I’d asked for redemption and because she loved me she granted it to me. I wouldn’t disappoint her – I couldn’t disappoint her.

I knew this was my final chance. She’d given me far too many – ones that she didn’t even remember. I knew that if I fucked up again she would leave me. She would leave me and make another man happy.

The thought burned my flesh and singed my bones. It was the concept of of a man snatching my world up from me. It was the concept of Pierre being that man that really fucked with me.

He, like me, was in total awe of Marlee. I saw it in his eyes when I caught them at Nello’s and heard it in his voice when I spoke to him months ago.

He was gone and it was understandable but completely unacceptable. Though Marlee wasn’t an object to be possessed she was mine and only mine. There was no room for Pierre in our future.

While I was sure that he wouldn’t pose a threat in the future I could admit that he had me every bit of shook when I spoke to him while Marlee was comatose.

He was far too determined to view her as only a friend. He was willing to do anything – to fight for her. It was evident. It was weaved through every word he spoke. He had a rebuttal for my every statement.  He tried to spin me in circles with his proper English. Had the situation not been a serious one I would have laughed at the insulting way he’d attempted to dumb things down to accommodate my foreign brain. He was a funny guy – very full of himself. 

I wanted to be upset as he boldly spoke to me but I realized that my lack-of had given him the bravado he possessed. My absence had left him with an immense amount of space to occupy. I’d fell off and like any other smart man he’d moved in. I understood that but I didn’t accept it – or respect it.

It was when he began speaking not only of my wife but for my wife that I got pissed. He addressed me as an outsider. He acted as though he knew Marlee better than me. He spoke of her with a confidence that made my stomach burn, and twitch, and roll. I’d struggled to hold my temper as he spoke about how miserable Marlee was – with me. And when I couldn’t take it anymore I ended the call with a gruff, 'stay away from my wife’.

Deep down I knew my warning was more of a plea – one I prayed he took heed to.

His feelings for my wife were authentic and had he expressed them to Marlee while she was vulnerable I probably wouldn’t be here with her today. I’d probably be in Paris right now, trying to gather myself post-divorce.

I nearly quivered at the thought. It was a scary one.

It was hard to imagine my future sans my wife. That didn’t seem like a future at all – not a happy one at least. The imagery reeked of misery. Marlee had been in my life for far too long – she was my life. She powered me more than music and dance ever could. She was everything and I couldn’t believe my fears had nearly led to me loosing her.

“Was wrong?” Her warm palm cupped my chin as she directed my gaze to meet hers. “You’re frowning.”

I quickly straightened my face and shrugged. “We need to get dressed.”

Having already showered not too long ago we were clad in only our underwear.

Her will to protest was written all over her face but to my fortune she nodded, stood and headed towards my suitcase.

marlee.

“Why you sound like that?”

“Like what?”

“You sad?” I quickly pondered his question, giving him an answer in the form of a head shake before I could come to an honest conclusion.

I was sad – terribly so but I would never tell him that. I didn’t want him worrying for me. I was fine – I would be fine.

“You look sad.” He pressed and I went to work, schooling my features one by one.

It was too late. He knew me too well.

He’d once told me that my voice changed when I lied – that it became more nasally. Along with that came information about how I flared my nostrils when I was annoyed and chewed my lip when I was in deep thought. He was far too in tune with me but that didn’t stop me from trying to deflect him from the truth.

“I’m tired, that’s all. Today was endless.” I huffed, praying the computer screen would create some sort of distortion to how I was really feeling.

“What you do?” I heard him shift and wondered what he was doing.

I wanted to see him but his faulty wifi connection prohibited that. Every few seconds the poor connection alert came up, leaving me with a blurred of frozen image of him.

I missed him like crazy. It had been nearly two months since I last saw him – touched him – and I hated every second of every day without him.

I was officially that chick. The one who only wanted to be up under her man all day. The one who felt more comfortable only if she knew where he was, who he was with, what he was doing. Hell, even what he was wearing.

I didn’t mind it though. Or at least that’s what I told myself. I would catch myself before it ever got to a point of ridiculousness.

I loved Larry deeply but I had goals and other priorities. My mother always stressed that love was great but it wasn’t everything. She adored Larry but knew that me being in a serious relationship at such a young age could hinder my future. She was right. At one point I’d been so over the long distance thing that I was ready to put my goals on the backburner for the sake of being closer to my man. But he wouldn’t let me. He knew that eventually resentment towards him would blossom in my heart and he didn’t want that.

Hell, I didn’t want that.

Times like this were hard but ultimately we were working to be at a point where we could settle down comfortably together.

“Um,” I chewed my lip, running today’s events through my mind. “I assisted on a Givenchy shoot and visual project. I was there for 15 hours.”

“Damn,” He murmured. “You love it?”

I smiled at the question. “The photography aspect, yeah. The filming was way too fucking repetitive for me. It was a lot. I had fun though.”

His brows furrowed. “You not gonna say details?”

“You care about the details?” I asked through a half smile.

He nodded. “Of course.”

And I went on, rambling about the amazing cameras that were worth more than my yearly income and the lighting tricks I’d learned. He listened, adding a sound in here or there. He laughed when I revealed how a model had tripped over her own feet after doing a twirling take for the millionth time. And his eyes grew narrow with concern when I mentioned that I’d spilled coffee on my hand.

“I was so scared while getting the cameras together. I didn’t want to fuck anything up.”

Confusion consumed his face. “How you can do that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know – put it on the wrong setting or drop the shit.”

“You can never think like that, Chink. You good and you know you kill this shit and even if you scared you go in and fake it and then make it!” His words tugged a smile to my face.

“I don’t know why I sike myself out. I just – can’t believe I’m here. It was such a hard position to get–“

He cut me off. “And you get it cause you deserve and you talented.”

“I was just so shocked because – I don’t know they’ve kinda been treating me like shit,” A frown instantly appeared on his face. “I mean, it’s whats to be expected when interning. The whole time I’ve been here I’ve been the glorified coffee girl. Most times I’m not even able to stand still long enough to watch the work that transpires because I get dragged back and forth a lot.”

I sighed, thinking of the long days that led to limited sleep. I’d come 'home’ to my raggedy hotel with throbbing feet, a pounding head and an aching stomach. Well, it was either aching or empty. Aching because I was so broke that couldn’t exactly afford nutritious food so I ate junk all day, including the leftover sweets from set – never the salad or sandwiches because that stuff was for the real crew. Or empty because, well, I was broke.

I never told Larry any of this. I didn’t want him to worry for me. I was fine – I would be fine. This would be all over in a month or so and I’d leave with a check for the lump sum of my work and great experience – in fetching other folks coffee.

“Half the time I don’t know whether this internship was created to mold an aspiring photographer or to find a fucking barista.” I went on and his frown deepened. “I went in today, knowing I’d have to deal with more of the same and I did but in addition to taking coffee orders I also got to actually touch the cameras and chat with the photographers.” I beamed and a smile crept to his face as well.

“You take picture?”

“Well, no – not for the campaign but I took a lot of test shots to make sure that the lighting and settings were perfect.”

His brows rose as he quizzically peered at me. “That make you happy?”

“It did.” I nodded.

“Then that make me happy.” His declaration widened my smile.

Larry didn’t completely understand all things photography and what it took to break big in the industry but he understood my passion. 

Him being a dancer made his art very tangible. People saw what he could do and reacted. Larry’s skills weren’t based on technical and traditional elements. They weren’t honed in a school. He simply possessed them, and then displayed then, wowing everyone.

Photography was different. It was subjective and even with the proper education many talented artists were still overlooked. And that’s exactly why I was busting my ass as a coffee girl for privileged white folks. I refused to be ignored, to have my work ignored… even if that meant starting at the very bottom.

“I’m still so shocked they asked me, babe! I’ve literally been doing bullshit for weeks! I’ve been the errand girl and finally I got to touch a camera and you wouldn’t believe who approached me and asked me.” I rambled, re-experiencing the same excitement I’d felt earlier.

“Who?” A small smirk tilted his lips as his eyes illuminated with interest.

“Georgia, fucking Steven Klein’s assistant!” I still couldn’t believe it. I mean he was no Patrick Demarchilier or Ellen von Unwerth but he was brilliant with the camera and very successful.

“Wait my baby. I call you back.” Larry spoke quickly, forcing my smile and my excitement to drop.

“Okay.” I murmured sullenly. “Love you.” The call ended, leaving me without a response and an attitude.

With a sigh, I stood from the not so comfortable bed and paced towards the TV stand. My stomach was empty and the only thing I could afford to fill it with was left over donuts from set today. I’d also managed to nab a few bananas and an apple but I was saving those it for tomorrow. 

I was off for the next two days and knew my meals with consist of the finest cuisine from the 7/11 across the street. I needed the fruits to balance out the trash I was bound to consume from the popular chain.

Using the rinky dink microwave, I warmed the Krispy Kream donut for a few seconds before extracting it and taking a huge bite.

It was as I was moving to my second donut that a knock at the door sounded. Annoyed that the cleaning lady was bothering me yet again, despite the fact that I told her I was fine, I moved towards the door.

I pulled the door open, ready and willing to accept the towels, cheap soap and peppermint candy she was bound to offer.

This was our routine. She’d come by at least two or three times, offering things that I already had, I’d refuse, tell her I was fine and she’d go on her way only to come right back. It always took me accepting her gesture to insure that she wouldn’t come back. She was sweet and clearly very nurturing, and usually I would laugh at her antics but tonight wasn’t the night.

However what I got when I opened the door wasn’t a short Mexican lady but a tall French nigga. My eyes widened as he leaned down peppering my lips with kisses.

“I love you too,” He murmured, pulling me into his arms. “Now finish telling me about George and Steve.”

“Why you smiling? What you think of?” He quizzed as I lowered the menu.

“You nosy.” He shrugged and looked at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Stop staring, nigga.”

“Tell me why you smile,” He pressed.

“Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are.”

“All the time.” He shrugged. “I’m waiting.”

With an explosive sigh I crossed my eyes, earning his chuckle. “I remembered when you surprised me here in LA while I was doing that internship at Smashbox Studios.”

The mere mention of the memory brought a wide smile to my face.

After I got over the initial shock of him being there I finished the story of my day. I was sure he was bored and went to move on to the next topic when he declared that he was proud of me. To my surprise, and his, the simple statement brought tears to my eyes. It meant more than I could ever explain hearing that from him – my man.

There I was broke, eating crappy but free food in a half star hotel, in a city where I knew no one and doing an internship that forced me to wait until after completion to be paid. My two hour rides to the studio were by bus, and then train and because everyone drove in LA the public transportation system was severely slower than New York. On top of all that I wasn’t exactly sure if anything would even come from the internship.

I had been miserable but forced myself to remain positive and optimistic. But it was difficult, especially knowing that I could have been back in the comfort of Brooklyn, working and getting immediate money.

Knowing that my man, who I missed dearly, was out there killing it and living his dreams drew me even deeper into depression. Thoughts of him being successful and me failing often plagued my brain, forcing negativity into my lungs. But hearing him say that he was proud of me made everything seem a little bit more worth it.

I could remember so many nights laying on that springy mattress, questioning what the fuck I was doing.  I could remember missing my mom more than anything. That internship had been a big decision – it had the power to make or break my career and I’d done it without her guidance. That was the first real time since she’d died that I truly felt alone.

Those nights where my stomach was growling and feet were throbbing were my some of my loneliest – second only to the nights where I’d clutched my recently vacated belly or imagined the synchronized laughter of Larry and Luzy.

Larry hadn’t been pleased with the hotel, mainly because it was raggedy but also because it was so far away from where I needed to be. He was also pissed about the state of my bank account. He’d gone on and on complaining about me neglecting to tell him the truth. He’d not only been upset but hurt that I didn’t trust him to take care of me.

It had been my tears and whining about going home to Brooklyn that forced him to ease off me but his silence only led to actual moves being made.

My emotional state led to exhaustion, forcing me into a long nap. When I’d woken up it was to a determined Larry packing my bags. In not so many words he let me know that he’d been able to sublet me an apartment closer to Smashbox studios. He left no room for my questions and urged me to get ready so that we could head over. 

The apartment was cozy but open. Sun light drenched the space, making me feel better instantly. It was just what I had been needing.

We didn’t stay for long because soon we were heading to the grocery store to get real food. I’d stocked up on produce and surprised Larry by grabbing mostly green shit to end my undernourishment.

The last stop we’d made had been enough to end my silence. As soon as he pulled the rental car into the bank I began to fuss. We’d argued back and forth for like a half hour before he finally grabbed my purse and exited the car.

The alert that came through my phone minutes later fueled my anger. I stared at the deposit amount in disbelief and said nothing when he got back into the car.

We didn’t speak until that following morning. He had a ton to say about how stubborn and unwilling I was to accept help and to his surprise I agreed, and then cried.

I’d only ever depended on one person to do things for me and that had been my mom. I didn’t know how to accept things from other people though I loved giving. I’d give Larry my left kidney but if he offered me a pint of blood I’d refuse it and claim that it was too much.

The conversation we had was exhausting but I’d promised him that I’d work harder on being as accepting of his help as he was of mine.

The sex we had was even more exhausting and to refuel we’d come here, to the very restaurant we sat in now, Larchmount Bungalow.

“I don’t remember.” He muttered with narrowed eyes.

I gasped. “How don’t you remember?!”

He shrugged as his gaze drifted towards the sky. “I just not.” Was his response. “Tell me what happened?”

“Um,” I paused, chewing my lip as I combed through the details of my recent recollection. “I was staying in some rinky dink hotel in El Segundo and I was superrrr broke.”

“How old we was?” His face scrunched with the most authentic form of confusion.“

"Like, 20…21.” I answered with ease.

“Ooooh yes! I know now. You lie to me and say you good but you eat noodle cups and donuts.” His eyes narrowed accusingly.

“I didn’t want you to worry about me. I would have survived had you not come to save the day, Larry.”

“I always worry for you.” His words weren’t meant to be endearing but they made my heart stutter.

Not knowing exactly how to respond or what to say, I offer a small smile.

“You guys all set?” The perky waiter asked, lingering over the polished wooden table.

“Oh,” I glanced down at my menu. “I’m not quite ready.”

“We ready.” Larry told the waiter, barely sparing me a glance. She do the Red & Blue Velvet Pancakes with extra whip cream and for me,” He hummed, briefly glancing at the menu. “I try the Seafood Breakfast Crepe with half order of Strawberry Tequila French Toast.”

The waiter smiled, collecting both menus. “Will that be all?”

A head nod from Larry sent him on his way and when he was out of ear shot, I cleared my throat forcing my husband to look at me.

“What if I wanted to try something new – different?” He smirked.

“You love the same thing always. I know this.” He was sure. His voice reeked of arrogance.

“I was looking at the LB French Toast.” I told him with an eye roll. I wanted to prove him wrong for the simple fact that he was so stuck on telling me about me.

His face scrunched. “You don’t even like chocolate.”

The saccharine breakfast entree was composed of plantains, Nutella and hazelnuts. “I was gonna get it without.”

“Why you can’t let me be right?” He smiled, knowing I was full of shit.

“Cause,” His brows rose in question. “You think you know everything.”

“About you I do.”

“You only know what I tell you.” I swore. “What I want you to know.”

“I know many shit you don’t even know.” His declaration brought a frown to my face and he instantly exploded with laughter.

“Shut the fuck up.” I murmured before sipping my water.

He was right but at this point I didn’t want to know any of what I didn’t already know. We’d been through too much. I’d experience too many emotions and my feelings were beyond mixed.

I was happy where I was right now with Larry and didn’t want a piece of the past to hinder that. I was accepting of our past and excited for the future but at the same time fear lingered at the root of my every exhale. 

What if I remembered something I couldn’t accept, something that wasn’t as easy to forgive?

I’d imagined all sorts of scenarios. I’d put together all these could'ves and shouldn’t'ves and fished out the ones that would hurt me the most, forcing me to walk away. 

My own imagination drove me to tears weeks ago when I mentally painted a picture of Larry impregnating Luzy.

In addition to killing our marriage something like that happening would have ultimately killed me. But Larry said he hadn’t physically cheated and I believed him – I did.

However, the weight of his emotional cheating left my muscles aching. And while he didn’t create a child with that bitch, he’d created a bond that gave birth to my insecurities, and my heartache.

I cleared my throat attempting to clear my thoughts.

“Stop think so much.” Larry spoke knowingly. He eyed me over the glass as he causally sipped his orange juice.

“I’m trying.” A nod was all I received, as there was nothing much to say.

A comfortable silence consumed us as we waited for our food. When it I arrived I happily dug in, moaning in delight. Larry had been right – this was the only thing on the menu that I wanted. He wore a knowing smirk but said nothing as he enjoyed his own food.

Halfway through my meal I grew bored and reached over, taking some of his.

“I don’t taste the tequila.” I observed chewing slowly on the mango dressed french toast.

“They cook it down so you not can taste.” He chuckled. “Is not for you get drunk. It leave slight flavor… sweetness.”

“Mmmhp.” I replied, unimpressed only for him to laugh.

“You wanna drink – we can go to bar at The W.”

“You just wanna get me drunk and take advantage.” I smirked, already down for the idea. It’d been so long since I’d had a nice cocktail.

“I do.” He confirmed and instead of laughing I shivered.

“Should I order a mimosa now orrrr…?” Our cackles loomed around us only to be cut short by the perky waiter who approached.

“Larry,” I called when we were to ourselves again.

“Hmm?” He quizzed, his mouth full.

“Where’s Millie?” The question had been on my mind for a while but I’d been too ashamed to ask.

In my haste to get away from my husband I’d left my dog without a care. I was the worst dog mom ever!

He chuckled, before swallowing his food and taking a sip of water. “I wonder when you ask. She with her uncle Roy.”

The name made me frown and because he’d probably predicted my distaste he laughed.

“That dusty nigga ain’t her damn uncle.” I snapped, annoyed.

Moving my food around with the tip of my fork I sighed. “Maybe we should go home. I need to get to her and– “

“Chink, she fine.” Larry swore, “Roy take care of her good. He do before.”

“I don’t like him.” I said what I was already known.

“You not even know why.” Larry was unbothered. In fact, a small smile played around his lips. This was a topic that brought him no stress. Knowing that eased my mind a bit but not much.

“Because,” I shrugged.

“You can’t even say a reason.”

“He’s a terrible influence.” I muttered.

“For me?” Larry’s eyes widened and smile dropped. My nod was minimal but it was enough to make him frown. “Baby, I’m a grown man. Every bad decision I do is because of me, never him. I stupid on my own.”

Him admitting that shocked the fuck out of me. Larry almost never admitted to his faults unless you pulled them out of him and even then he resisted.

“Well,” I plucked a chunk of mango off his plate, still searching for the tequila component. “You were one stupid ass nigga.

-

we can’t let our good love die..